“When my mother took the throne years ago,” Elayne said, glancing over at Ellorien, “there were some Houses it was said she’d never win over. And yet she did.”
“So? You already have enough support, Your Majesty. You’ve had your victory.”
“One of them.”
She left the rest unsaid. There was a debt of honor owed to House Traemane. Courting Ellorien’s approval wasn’t merely about strengthening the Lion Throne. It was about repairing rifts caused by Elayne’s mother while under the influence of Gaebril. It was about recovering her House’s reputation, about undoing the wrongs that could be undone.
Sylvase would not understand that. Elayne had learned about the poor girl’s childhood; this one would not put much stock in the honor of a High Seat. Sylvase seemed to believe in only two things: power and vengeance. So long as she supported Elayne and could be guided, she would not be a liability. But she would never be the strength to House Trakand that someone like Dyelin was.
“How is my secretary serving your needs, Your Majesty?” Sylvase asked.
“Well enough, I suppose,” Elayne said. So far, he hadn’t produced anything of value, though Elayne hadn’t given him leave to do anything too drastic during his questioning. She was trapped in a conundrum. She’d been hunting this group of Black Ajah for what seemed like forever. She finally had them…but what did she do with them?
Birgitte had taken the captives alive ostensibly so that they could be questioned, then tried by the White Tower. But that meant they had no reason to speak; they knew their ultimate end would be execution. So Elayne either had to be willing to bargain with them, or she had to let the questioner take extreme measures.
A queen had to be hard enough to allow these things. Or that was what her teachers and tutors had explained. There was no question as to the guilt of these women, and they had already done enough to earn themselves death a dozen times over. Elayne wasn’t certain how far she herself was willing to descend, however, to pry their secrets free.
Besides, would that actually do any good? Ispan had had some kind of Compulsion or oaths binding her; these were likely to have the same. Would they be able to reveal anything useful? If only there were a way to….
She hesitated, missing Sylvase’s next comment as a thought occurred to her. Birgitte wouldn’t like it, of course. Birgitte didn’t like anything. But Elayne had felt Birgitte move off out of the Palace somewhere, perhaps doing rounds of the guard posts outside.
“Excuse me, Sylvase,” Elayne said. “I just recalled something that I absolutely must do.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” the girl said in a flat, almost inhuman voice.
Elayne moved from her, then quickly greeted—and bade good evening—to the others. Conail looked bored. He’d come because it had been expected of him. Dyelin was her usual pleasant, yet careful, self. Elayne avoided Ellorien. She greeted everyone else in the room of note. Once finished, she began to walk toward the exit.
“Elayne Trakand,” Ellorien called out.
Elayne paused, smiling to herself. She turned, wiping her face of anything other than calculated curiosity. “Yes, Lady Ellorien?”
“Have you invited me here only to ignore me?” the woman demanded from across the room. Other conversations grew quiet.
“Not at all,” Elayne said. “I was merely under the impression that you would have a more pleasant time if I did not force you to interact with me. This evening was not intended for political purposes.”
Ellorien frowned. “Well what was it for, then?”
“To enjoy a good ballad, Lady Ellorien,” Elayne said. “And, perhaps, to remind you of days when you often enjoyed entertainment in the company of House Trakand.” She smiled and nodded slightly, then left.
Let her think about that, Elayne thought with satisfaction. Ellorien had no doubt heard that Gaebril had been one of the Forsaken. The woman might not believe it, but perhaps she would recall the years of respect she and Morgase had shown one another. Should a few short months be cause to forget years of friendship?
At the bottom of the steps out of the lounge, Elayne found Kaila Bent, one of Birgitte’s Guardswoman captains. The lanky firehaired woman was chatting amiably with a pair of Guardsmen, both of whom seemed quite eager to gain her favor. All three snapped to attention when they noticed Elayne.
“Where did Birgitte go?” Elayne asked.
“She went to investigate a disturbance at the gates, Your Majesty,” Kaila said. “I’ve had word that it was nothing. That mercenary captain who came to visit you earlier tried to sneak onto the palace grounds. Captain Birgitte is questioning him.”
Elayne raised an eyebrow. “You mean Matrim Cauthon?”
The woman nodded.
“She’s ‘questioning’ him?”
“That’s what I heard, Your Majesty,” Kaila replied.
“That means the two of them have gone out for drinks,” Elayne said with a sigh. Light, this was a bad time for it.
Or was it a good time? Birgitte couldn’t object to Elayne’s plan for the Black Ajah if she was out with Mat. Elayne found herself smiling. “Captain Bent, you are with me.” She left the theater rooms and entered the Palace proper. The woman followed, waving for the squad of Guardswomen standing in the hallway to follow.
Smiling to herself, Elayne began giving orders. One of the Guardswomen ran off to deliver them, though she looked confused at the strange list of commands. Elayne made her way to her rooms, then sat down, thinking. She would have to move quickly. Birgitte was in a surly mood; Elayne could tell that through the bond.
A servant soon arrived, carrying an enveloping black cloak. Elayne jumped up and slipped it on, then embraced the Source. It took her three tries! Bloody ashes, but being pregnant was frustrating sometimes.
She spun weaves of Fire and Air around her, using the Mirror of Mists to make herself look taller, more imposing. She fetched her jewelry chest and fished out a small ivory carving of a seated woman shrouded in her own hair. She used the angreal to pull as much of the One Power into her as she dared. To anyone watching who could channel, she’d look imposing indeed.
She glanced back at the Guardswomen. They were confused, obviously, and stood with their hands unconsciously on their swords. “Your Majesty?” Kaila asked.
“How do I look?” Elayne said, tweaking her weaves
