“That went well,” Mat decided, hands on hips. “I worried she wouldn’t bite, but I think I reeled her in pretty well.” Though the bloody dice were still rolling in his head.
Thom laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.
“What?” Mat demanded.
Thom just chuckled, then glanced down at the scroll in his other hand. “And this was unexpected as well.”
“Well, Andor doesn’t have a court-bard,” Mat said.
“Yes,” Thom said, looking over the scroll. “But there’s a pardon written in here too, for any and all crimes—known and unknown—I may have committed in Andor or Cairhien. I wonder who told her….”
“Told her what?”
“Nothing, Mat. Nothing at all. We have a few hours until dinner with Elayne. What do you say we go buy you a new coat?”
“All right,” Mat said. “You think I could get one of those pardons, too, if I asked for it?”
“Do you need one?”
Mat shrugged, walking down the hallway with him. “Can’t hurt to be safe. What kind of coat are you going to buy me, anyway?”
“I didn’t say I’d pay.”
“Don’t be so stingy,” Mat said. “I’ll pay for dinner.” And bloody ashes, somehow, Mat knew, he would.
Chapter 20
A Choice
“You must not speak,” Rosil said to Nynaeve. The slender, long-necked woman wore an orange dress slashed with yellow. “At least, speak only when spoken to. You know the ceremony?”
Nynaeve nodded, her heart beating treacherously as they walked into the dungeonlike depths of the White Tower. Rosil was the new Mistress of Novices, and a member of the Yellow Ajah by coincidence.
“Excellent, excellent,” Rosil said. “Might I suggest you move the ring to the third finger of your left hand?”
“You may suggest it,” Nynaeve said, but did not move the ring. She had been named Aes Sedai. She would not give in on that point.
Rosil pursed her lips, but said nothing further. The woman had shown Nynaeve remarkable kindness during her short time in the White Tower—which had been a relief. Nynaeve had grown to expect that every Yellow sister would regard her with disdain, or at least indifference. Oh, they thought she was talented, and many insisted on being trained by her. But they did not think of her as one of them. Not yet.
This woman was different, and being a burr in her sandal was not a good repayment. “It is important to me, Rosil,” Nynaeve explained, “that I not give any indication of disrespect for the Amyrlin. She named me Aes Sedai. To act as if I were merely Accepted would be to undermine her words. This test is important—when the Amyrlin raised me, she never said that I need not be tested. But I am Aes Sedai.”
Rosil cocked her head, then nodded. “Yes. I see. You are correct.”
Nynaeve stopped in the dim corridor. “I want to thank you, and the others who have welcomed me these last days—Niere and Meramor. I had not assumed I would find acceptance here among you.”
“There are some who resist change, dear,” Rosil said. “It will ever be so. But your new weaves are impressive. More importantly, they’re effective. That earns you a warm welcome from me.”
Nynaeve smiled.
“Now,” Rosil said, raising a finger. “You might be Aes Sedai in the eyes of the Amyrlin and the Tower, but tradition still holds. No speaking for the rest of the ceremony, please.”
The lanky woman continued leading the way. Nynaeve followed, biting off a retort. She wouldn’t let her nerves rule her.
Deeper into the Tower they wound, and despite her determination to be calm, she found herself increasingly nervous. She was Aes Sedai, and she would pass this test. She’d mastered the hundred weaves. She didn’t need to worry.
Except, some women never returned from the test.
These cellars had a grand beauty to them. The smooth stone floor was leveled carefully. Lamps burned high on the walls; likely, those had required a sister or Accepted to light them with the One Power. Few people came down here, and most of the rooms were used for storage. It seemed a waste to her to put such care in a place rarely visited.
Eventually, they arrived at a pair of doors so large that Rosil had to use the One Power to open them. It’s an indication, Nynaeve thought, folding her arms. The vaulted hallways, the enormous door. This is here to show Accepted the importance of what they are about to do.
The enormous, gatelike doors swung open, and Nynaeve forced herself to master her jitters. The Last Battle was looming. She would pass this test. She had important work to be about.
Head raised high, she entered the chamber. It was domed, with stand-lamps around the perimeter. A large ter’angreal dominated the center. It was an oval, narrowed at the top and bottom, that sat unsupported.
Many ter’angreal looked ordinary. That was not the case here: this oval was obviously something worked by the One Power. It was made of metal, but the light changed colors as it reflected off the silvery sides, making the thing seem to glow and shift.
“Attend,” Rosil said formally.
There were other Aes Sedai in the room. One from each Ajah, including—unfortunately—the Red. They were all Sitters, an oddity, perhaps because of Nynaeve’s notoriety in the Tower. Saerin from the Brown, Yukiri of the Gray, Barasine from the Red. Notably, Romanda from the Yellow was there; she had insisted on taking part. She had been hard with Nynaeve so far.
Egwene herself had come. One more than normal, and the Amyrlin as well. Nynaeve met the Amyrlin’s eyes, and Egwene nodded. Unlike the test to be raised to Accepted—which was made entirely by the ter’angreal—this test involved the sisters actively working to make Nynaeve prove herself. And Egwene would be among the most harsh. To show that she had been right in raising Nynaeve.
“You come in ignorance, Nynaeve al’Meara,” Rosil said. “How will you depart?”
“In knowledge of myself,” Nynaeve said.
“For what reason have you been summoned here?”
“To be tried.”
“For what reason should you be tried?”
“To show that I am worthy,” Nynaeve said.
Several of the women frowned, including Egwene. Those weren’t the right words—Nynaeve was supposed to say that she wanted to learn whether or not she was worthy. But she was already Aes Sedai, so by definition she was worthy. She just had t
