Night came early that time of year, and only a few hours of daylight remained, as Easar pointed out, offering beds for the night. Ethenielle suggested that her own tent would be more comfortable, yet they gave no sign of disappointment when Elayne said she must leave immediately.
“Remarkable that you can cover such distance so quickly,” Ethenielle murmured. “I have heard Aes Sedai speak of a thing called Traveling. A lost Talent?”
“Have you encountered many sisters on your journey?” Elayne asked.
“Some,” Ethenielle replied. “There are Aes Sedai everywhere, it seems.” Even Tenobia was suddenly expressionless.
Allowing Birgitte to lay the marten-lined cloak on her shoulders, Elayne nodded. “So there are. Would you have our horses brought?”
None of them spoke again until they were out of the camp, riding through the trees. The horse-smell and latrine-stink had seemed mild in the camp, but their absence here made the air seem very fresh, and the snow whiter, somehow.
“You were very quiet, Birgitte Trahelion,” Aviendha said, thumping her bay’s ribs with her heels. She always believed the animal would stop without reminders to keep going.
“A Warder doesn’t speak for her Aes Sedai; she bloody listens and watches her back,” Birgitte replied dryly. It was unlikely the forest contained anyone who might threaten them, this near the Shienaran camp, but her bow remained uncovered, and her eyes scanned the trees.
“A much hastier form of negotiation than I am used to, Elayne,” Merilille said. “Normally, these matters require days or weeks of talking, if not months, before anything is agreed. You were lucky they are not Domani. Or Cairhienin,” she admitted judiciously. “Borderlanders are refreshingly open and straightforward. Easy to deal with.”
Open and straightforward? Elayne shook her head slightly. They wanted to find Rand, but concealed why. They concealed the presence of sisters, too. At least they would be moving away from him, once she had them on their way to Murandy. That would have to do, for now, but she had to warn him, once she could figure out how to do so without endangering him. Take care of him, Min, she thought. Take care of him for us.
A few miles from the camp, she reined in to study the forest as assiduously as Birgitte. Especially behind them. The sun sat low on the treetops. A trotting white fox appeared for an instant and was gone. Something flickered on a bare gray branch, a bird perhaps, or a squirrel. A dark hawk suddenly plummeted out of the sky, and a thin squeal broke the air and ended suddenly. They were not being followed. It was not the Shienarans she worried about, but those hidden sisters. The weariness that had vanished earlier, with Merilille’s news, had returned with interest now that her meeting with the Borderlanders was done. She wanted nothing so much as to climb into her bed as soon as possible, but she did not want it enough to give the weave for Traveling to sisters she did not know.
She could have woven a gateway to the Palace stableyard, but only at the risk of killing someone who happened to be crossing where it opened, so instead she wove one for another place she knew just as well. She was so tired that it required effort to weave, so tired that she did not think of the angreal pinned to her dress until the silvery slash had appeared in the air and opened onto a field covered with brown grass beaten flat by earlier snowfalls, a field just south of Caemlyn where Gareth Bryne had often taken her to watch the Queen’s Guards ride to command, breaking from columns to form a line four abreast at a shouted order.
“Are you just going to look at it?” Birgitte demanded.
Elayne blinked. Aviendha and Merilille were studying her with concern.
Birgitte’s face gave nothing away, but the bond carried worry, too.
“I was just thinking,” Elayne said, and heeled Fireheart through the gateway. Bed would be wonderful.
From the old practice field to the tall arched gates set in the pale, fifty-foot-high city walls was a short ride. The long market buildings lining the approach to the gates were empty at this hour, but sharp-eyed Guardsmen still kept a watch. They watched her and the others ride in apparently without recognizing her. Mercenaries, very likely. They would not know her unless they saw her on the Lion Throne. With the help of the Light, and luck, they would see her there.
Twilight was fast approaching, the sky turning a deep gray and the shadows slanting long across the streets. Very few people were still out and about, a scattering of folk hurrying to finish their day’s work before going home to dinner and a warm fire. A pair of bearers carrying a merchant’s dark lacquered sedan-chair went trotting past along a street ahead, and a few moments later one of the big pump-wagons rumbled in the other direction behind eight running horses, its iron-shod wheels loud on the paving stones. Another fire, somewhere. They happened most often at night. A patrol of four Guardsman walked their horses toward her and on, without looking at her twice. They did not recognize her anymore than the men at the gates.
Swaying in her saddle, she rode wishing for her bed.
It was a shock to realize that she was being lifted down from her saddle. She opened eyes she did not remember closing and found herself being carried into the Palace in Birgitte’s arms.
“Put me down,” she said tiredly. “I can still walk.”
“You can hardly stand up,” Birgitte growled. “Be still.”
“You cannot talk with her!” Aviendha said loudly.
“She really does need sleep, Master Norry,” Merilille said in firm tones. “Tomorrow will have to do.”
“Forgive me, but tomorrow will not do,” Norry replied, for a wonder sounding very firm himself. “It is urgent I speak with her now!”
Elayne’s head wanted to wobble as she lifted it. Halwin Norry was clutching that leather folder to his skinny chest, as always, but the dry man who talked of crowned heads with the same dusty tone he used for speaking of the roof repairs was almost dancing on his toes in an effort to get by Aviendha and Merilille, who each had him by an arm, holding him back.
“Put me down, Birgitte,” she said again, and for the second wonder in as many moments, Birgitte obeyed. She kept a supporting arm around Elayne, though, for which Elayne was grateful. She was not sure her legs would have supported her for very long. “What is it, Master Norry? Let the man go, Aviendha. Merilille?”
The First Clerk darted forward as soon they let go of him. “Word began arriving soon after you left, my Lady,” he said, not sounding dusty at all. Worry pinched his brows. “There are four armies . . . Small, I should say now, I suppose. Light, I recall when five thousand men was an army.” He rubbed a hand over his bald head, leaving the white tufts rising behind his ears in ruffled disarray. “There are four small armies approaching Caemlyn, from the east,” he went on in a more usual tone for him. Almost. “They will be here inside the week, I fear. Twenty thousand men. Perhaps thirty. I cannot be sure.” He half extended the folder to her as if offering to show her the paper
