Lord of Chaos (The Wheel of Time #6)

Lord of Chaos (The Wheel of Time #6) Page 180

Two Maidens were waiting in the corridor when he emerged. Harilin, a lanky redhead about his age, went running for the others as soon as he appeared. Chiarid, a merry-eyed blonde old enough to be his mother, accompanied him through hallways where only a few servants stirred, surprised to see him so early. Usually Chiarid liked to make jokes at his expense when they were alone—he understood some; she saw him as a younger brother who needed to be kept from getting too big for his hat—but she felt his mood this morning and said not a word. She did give his sword one disgusted glance, but only one.

Nandera and the rest of the Maidens caught up before he was halfway to the Traveling chamber, and caught his silence as quickly. So did the Mayeners and Black Eyes guarding the square-carved door. Rand thought he might leave Cairhien without anyone speaking until a young woman in the red-and-blue of Berelain’s personal servants rushed in and bobbed a deep curtsy just as he opened the gateway.

“The First sends this,” she panted, extending a letter with a large green seal. Apparently she had run all the way trying to find him. “It’s from the Sea Folk, my Lord Dragon.”

Rand stuffed the letter into his coat pocket and stepped through the gateway, ignoring the woman’s question as to whether there was any reply. Silence suited him this morning. He ran a thumb along the carving on the Dragon Scepter. He would be strong and hard, and put all this self-pity behind him.

The dark Grand Hall in Caemlyn brought Alanna nestling back into his head. Night still held here, but she was awake; he knew as surely as he knew she was weeping, as surely as he knew her tears stopped moments after he closed the gateway behind the last of the Maidens. A small ball of ragged unreadable emotion still sat in the back of his head, yet he was certain she knew he had returned. No doubt she and her bond had played their part in his flight, but he accepted the bond now even if he did not like it. That nearly made him chuckle wryly; he had better accept it, since he could not change it. She had tied a thread to him—no more than a thread; Light, let it be no more—and it should not cause trouble unless he let her close enough to make it a leash. He wished Thom Merrilin were there; Thom probably knew all about Warders and bonds; he knew surprising things. Well, finding Elayne would find Thom. That was all there was to it.

Saidin made a globe of light, Fire and Air, to illumine the way out of the throne room. The ancient queens, hidden in the darkness far overhead, did not bother him at all. They were only pictures in colored glass.

The same could not be said of Aviendha. Outside his apartments Nandera dismissed the Maidens except for Jalani, and the two went in with him to check the rooms while he used the Power to light the lamps and tossed the Dragon Scepter onto a small ivory-inlaid table that had considerably less gilt than it would have had in the Sun Palace. All the furnishings were that way, with less gilding and more carving, usually lions or roses. One large red carpet covered the floor, with gold thread outlining roses.

Without saidin in him, he doubted he could have heard the Maidens’ soft footfalls, but before they crossed the anteroom Aviendha came stalking out of the still dark bedchamber with her hair in wild disarray and her belt knife in hand. And wearing only her skin. At the sight of him she went stiff as a post and stalked back the way she had come, little short of running. A small light appeared through the doorway, a lamp lit. Nandera laughed softly and exchanged amused glances with Jalani.

“I will never understand Aiel,” Rand muttered, pushing the Source away. It was not so much that the Maidens found the situation funny; he had long since given up on Aiel humor. It was Aviendha. She might think it very funny to undress for bed in front of him, but let him catch so much as a glimpse of ankle when she did not choose to show it, and she turned into a scalded cat. Not to mention blaming him.

Nandera chortled. “It is not Aiel you cannot understand, but women. No man has ever understood women.”

“Men, on the other hand,” Jalani put in, “are very simple.” He stared at her, with the baby fat still on her cheeks, and she colored faintly. Nandera looked ready to laugh out loud.

Death, Lews Therin whispered.

Rand forgot everything else. Death? What do you mean?

Death comes.

What kind of death? Rand demanded. What are you talking about?

Who are you? Where am I?

Rand felt as though a fist had clutched his throat. He had been sure, but. . . . This was the first time Lews Therin had said anything to him, something clearly and plainly addressed to him. I am Rand al’Thor. You are inside my head.

Inside . . . ? No! I am myself! I am Lews Therin Telamon! I am meeeeeeeeee! The cry faded away into the distance.

Come back, Rand shouted. What death? Answer me, burn you! Silence. He shifted uneasily. Knowing was one thing, but a dead man, inside him, talking of death, made him feel unclean, like the faintest brush of the taint on saidin.

Something touched his arm, and he nearly seized at the Source again before he realized it was Aviendha. She must have flown into her clothes, yet she looked as if she had taken an hour to arrange every hair to her liking. People said Aiel showed no emotion, but it was just that they were more reserved than most. Their faces told as much as anyone else’s if you knew what to look for. Aviendha was torn between concern and wanting to be angry.

“Are you well?” she asked.

“I was just thinking,” he told her. True enough. Answer me, Lews Therin! Come back and answer me! Why had he ever thought silence suited the morning?

Unfortunately, Aviendha took him at his word, and if there was nothing to be concerned about. . . . She put her fists on her hips. That was one thing he understood about women, Aiel, Two Rivers or whoever; fists on hips meant trouble. He need not have bothered lighting the lamps; her eyes were hot enough to light the room. “You went away without me again. I promised the Wise Ones to stay near you until I must go, but you make my promise nothing. You have toh to me for this, Rand al’Thor. Nandera, from now on I must be told where he is going and when. He must not be allowed to go without me if I should accompany him.”

Nandera hesitated not a moment before nodding. “It shall be as you wish, Aviendha.”

Rand squared around on both women. “Now, just you wait! Nobody is to be told my comings and goings unless I say so.”

“I have given my word, Rand al’Thor,” Nandera said in a flat voice. She looked him in the eye with no notion of backing up.

“As do I,” Ja