“Let him in, Merise,” Cadsuane’s voice said from inside.
Merise hesitated, then gave Rand a glare as she pulled the door open all the way. Cadsuane sat in a chair, speaking with an older man whose long, gray hair fell loose to his shoulders. He had a large beak of a nose and regal clothing.
Rand stepped to the side. Behind them, someone gasped. Rodel Ituralde stepped up to the doorway, seeming stunned, and the man in the room turned. He had kindly eyes and coppery skin.
“My liege,” Ituralde cried, hastening forward, then going down on one knee. “You live!”
Min felt an overwhelming sense of happiness from Rand. Ituralde, it appeared, was weeping. Rand stepped back. “Come, let’s go to my rooms and rest.”
“The King of Arad Doman. Where did she find him?” Min said. “How did you know?”
“A friend left me a secret,” Rand said. “The White Tower collected Mattin Stepaneos to ‘protect’ him. Well, it wasn’t too much of a leap to wonder if they might have done that with other monarchs. And if they sent sisters to Arad Doman to seize him months ago, before any of them knew of gateways, they could have gotten trapped in the snows on their return trip.” He seemed so relieved. “Graendal never had him. I didn’t kill him, Min. One innocent I assumed that I’d killed still lives. That’s something. A small something. But it helps.”
She helped him walk the rest of the way to their rooms, content—for the moment—to share in his warm sense of joy and relief.
Chapter 33
A Good Soup
Siuan’s soup was surprisingly good.
She took another sip, raising an eyebrow. It was simple—broth and vegetables, bits of chicken—but when most food tasted stale at best, this seemed a wonder. She tried the biscuit. No weevils? Delightful!
Nynaeve had just fallen silent, her own bowl steaming in front of her. Newly raised, she’d taken the oaths earlier in the day. They were in the Amyrlin’s study, shutters open and spilling in golden light, new rugs of green and gold on the floor.
Silently, Siuan chided herself for getting distracted by the soup. Nynaeve’s report demanded consideration. She’d spoken of her time with Rand al’Thor, and specifically of events such as the cleansing. Of course, Siuan had heard the reports that saidin had been cleansed; an Asha’man had visited the camp during the division. She had remained skeptical, but there was little denying it now.
“Well,” the Amyrlin said, “I am very glad for this longer explanation, Nynaeve. Though saidin being cleansed does make it less unsettling to consider Asha’man and Aes Sedai bonding one another. I wish Rand had been willing to speak to me of that during our meeting.” She said it evenly, though Siuan knew she looked on men bonding women with as much pleasure as a captain looked on a fire in his hold.
“I suppose,” Nynaeve said, lips turning down. “If it matters, Rand didn’t approve the men bonding women.”
“It doesn’t matter if he did or not,” Egwene said. “The Asha’man are his responsibility.”
“As the Aes Sedai who chained him and beat him are yours, Mother?” Nynaeve asked.
“Inherited from Elaida, perhaps,” Egwene said, eyes narrowing just slightly.
She was right to bring Nynaeve back, Siuan thought, taking a sip of soup. She takes his side far too often for comfort.
Nynaeve sighed, taking her spoon to begin her soup. “I didn’t mean that as a challenge, Mother. I just want to show how he thinks. Light! I didn’t approve of much of what he did, particularly lately. But I can see how he got there.”
“He has changed, though,” Siuan said thoughtfully. “You said so yourself.”
“Yes,” Nynaeve said. “The Aiel say he’s embraced death.”
“I’ve heard that from them, too,” Egwene said. “But I looked into his eyes, and something else has changed, something inexplicable. The man I saw…”
“He didn’t seem like one to destroy Natrin’s Barrow?” Siuan shivered as she thought of that.
“The man I saw wouldn’t need to destroy such a place,” Egwene said. “Those inside would just follow him. Bend to his wishes. Because he was.”
The three fell silent.
Egwene shook her head and took a sip of her soup. She paused, then smiled. “Well, I see the soup is good. Perhaps things aren’t as bad as I thought.”
“The ingredients came from Caemlyn,” Nynaeve noted. “I overheard the serving girls talking.”
“Oh.”
More silence.
“Mother,” Siuan said, speaking carefully. “The women are still worried about the deaths in the Tower.”
“I agree, Mother,” Nynaeve said. “Sisters stare at one another with distrust. It worries me.”
“You both should have seen it before,” Egwene said. “During Elaida’s reign.”
“If it was worse than this,” Nynaeve said, “I’m glad that I didn’t.” She glanced down at her Great Serpent ring. She did that a lot, recently. As a fisher with a new boat often glanced toward the docks and smiled. For all her complaints that she was Aes Sedai, and for all the fact that she’d been wearing that ring for a long time now, she was obviously satisfied to have passed the testing and taken the oaths.
“It was terrible,” Egwene said. “And I don’t intend to let it go back to that. Siuan, the plan must be put into motion.”
Siuan grimaced. “I’ve been teaching the others. But I don’t think this is a good idea, Mother. They’re barely trained.”
“What’s this?” Nynaeve asked.
“Aes Sedai,” Egwene said. “Carefully chosen and given dream ter’angreal. Siuan is showing them how Tel’aran’rhiod works.”
“Mother, that place is dangerous.”
Egwene took another sip of soup. “I believe I know that better than most. But it is necessary; we must lure the killers into a confrontation. I’ll arrange for a ‘secret’ meeting among my most loyal Aes Sedai, in the World of Dreams, and perhaps lay clues that other people of importance will be attending. Siuan, you’ve contacted the Windfinders?”
“Yes,” Siuan said. “Though they want to know what you’ll give them to agree
