“You are a merchant? Few merchants have come out of Tarabon in some time.” The man's voice was as harsh as his face, and that looked as though all joy had been boiled out of it before he left the cradle. Suspicion filled his dark, deepset eyes; Nynaeve did not doubt that was, permanent, too. “Bound to where, with what?”
“I carry dyes, Captain.” She worked to maintain her smile under that steady, unblinking stare; it was a relief when he shifted it to the others briefly. Thom was making a good job of appearing bored, just a wagon driver who would be paid stopped or moving, and if Juilin had not snatched off that ridiculous hat as he once would have, at least he seemed no more than idly interested, a hired man with nothing to hide. When the Whitecloak's gaze dropped to Elayne, Nynaeve felt the other woman stiffen, and hurried on. “Taraboner dyes. The finest in the world. I can get a good price for them in Andor.”
At a signal from the captain — or whatever he was — one of the other Whitecloaks heeled his horse to the back of the wagon. Slicing one of the ropes with his dagger, he jerked some of the canvas loose, enough to expose three or four casks. “They're branded 'Tanchico,' Lieutenant. This one says 'crimson.' Do you want me to break open a few?”
Nynaeve hoped the Whitecloak officer took the anxiety on her face the right way. Even without looking at her, she could all but feel Elayne wanting to call the soldier down for his manners, but any real merchant would be worried at having dyes exposed to the elements. “If you will show me the ones you want opened, Captain, I will be more than happy to do it myself.” The man showed no response at all, to flattery or offers of cooperation. “The casks were sealed to keep out dust and water, you see. If the cask head is broken, I'll never be able to cover it over with wax again here.”
The rest of the column reached them and began to pass in a cloud of dust; the wagon drivers were roughly dressed, nondescript men, but the soldiers rode stiffly erect, their long steel lance points all slanted at exactly the same angle. Even sweatyfaced and coated with dust, they looked hard men. Only the drivers glanced at Nynaeve and the others.
The Whitecloak lieutenant waved dust away from his face with one gauntleted hand, then motioned the man back from the wagon. His eyes never left Nynaeve. “You come from Tanchico?”
Nynaeve nodded, a picture of cooperation and openness. “Yes, Captain. Tanchico.”
“What word have you of the city? There have been rumors.”
“Rumors, Captain? When we left, there was little order remaining. The city was full of refugees, and the countryside of rebels and bandits. Trade hardly exists.” That was the truth, pure and simple. “That's why these dyes will fetch particularly good prices. There will be no more Taraboner dyes available for a long while, I think.”
“I do not care about refugees, trade or dyes, merchant,” the officer said in flat tones. “Was Andric still on the throne?”
“Yes, Captain.” Obviously, rumor said someone had taken Tanchico and supplanted the King, and perhaps someone had. But who — one of the rebel lords who fought each other as hard as they did Andric, or the Dragonsworn who had pledged themselves to the Dragon Reborn without ever seeing him? “Andric was still King, and Amathera still Panarch, when we left.”
His eyes said she could be lying. “It is said the Tar Valon witches were involved. Did you see any Aes Sedai, or hear of them?”
“No, Captain,” she said quickly. The Great Serpent ring seemed hot against her skin. Fifty Whitecloaks, close at hand. A dust storm would not help this time, and anyway, though she tried to deny it, she was more scared than angry. “Plain merchants don't mingle with that sort.” He nodded, and she risked adding a question. Anything to change the subject. “If you please, Captain, have we entered Amadicia yet?”
“The border is five miles east,” he pronounced. “For the time being. The first village you come to will be Mardecin. Obey the law, and you will be well. There is a garrison of the Children there.” He sounded as if the garrison would spend all of its time making sure they did obey the law.
“Have you come to move the border?” Elayne asked suddenly and coolly. Nynaeve could have strangled her.
The deepset, suspicious eyes shifted to Elayne, and Nynaeve said hastily, “Forgive her, my Lord Captain. My eldest sister's girl. She thinks she should have been born a lady, and she can't keep away from the boys besides. That's why her mother sent her to me.” Elayne's indignant gasp was perfect. It was also probably quite real. Nynaeve supposed she had not needed to add that about boys, but it seemed to fit.
The Whitecloak stared at them a moment longer, then said, “The Lord Captain Commander sends food into Tarabon. Otherwise, we would have Taraboner vermin over the border and stealing anything they could chew. Walk in the Light,” he added before swinging his horse to gallop back to the head of the column. It was neither suggestion nor blessing.
Thom got the wagon moving as soon as the officer left, but everyone sat silent, except for coughing, until they were well beyond the last soldier and out of the other wagons' dust.
Swallowing a little water to wet her throat, Nynaeve pushed the water bottle at Elayne. “What did you mean back there?” she demanded. “We aren't in your mother's throne room, and your mother would not stand for it anyway!”
Elayne emptied the rest of the leather bottle before deigning to reply. “You were crawling, Nynaeve.” She pitched her voice high, in a mock servility. “I am very good and obedient, Captain. May I kiss your boots, Captain?”
“We are supposed to be merchants, not queens in disguise!”
“Merchants do not have to be lickspittles! You are lucky he didn't think we were trying to hide something, acting so servile!”
“They don't stare down their noses at Whitecloaks with fifty lances, either! Or did you think we could overwhelm them all with the Power, if need be?”
“Why did you tell him I could not keep away from boys? There was no need for that, Nynaeve!”
“I was ready to tell him anything that would make him go away and leave us alone! And you —!”
“Both of you shut up,” Thom barked suddenly, “before they come back to see which of you is murdering the other!”
Nynaeve actually twisted around on the wooden seat to look back before she realized the Whitecloaks were too far off to hear even if they had been shouting. Well, maybe they had been. It did not help
