Lord of Chaos (The Wheel of Time #6)

Lord of Chaos (The Wheel of Time #6) Page 248

Seating herself so she, Seonid and Masuri surrounded the pair, Merana adjusted her skirts and shawl carefully. There was some moral ascendancy in being seated while the others remained standing. To her, what Alanna had done was little short of rape. “In fact, he has placed another restriction. It is all very well that you two have located his school, but now I strongly suggest you abandon whatever thoughts you may have had in that direction. He has . . . charged us . . . to stay away from his . . . men.” She could see him still, leaning forward in that monstrosity of a throne with the Lion Throne on exhibit behind him and a carved piece of spear in his fist; no doubt an Aiel custom, that.

“Hear me, Merana Sedai,” he said, quite pleasantly and quite firmly. “I want no trouble between Aes Sedai and Asha’man. I have told the soldiers to stay clear of you, but I do not mean them to be Aes Sedai meat. If you go hunting at the Black Tower, you may be dinner yourself. We both want to avoid that.”

Merana had been Aes Sedai long enough not to shiver every time a goose walked over her grave, but it was close this time. Asha’man. The Black Tower. Mazrim Taim! How could it have gone so far? Yet Alanna was certain there were over a hundred men, though she gave no details of how she knew, of course; no sister willingly exposed her eyes-and-ears. It did not matter. “If you pursue two hares, both will escape you,” the old saying went, and al’Thor was the most important hare in the world. The others had to wait.

“Is he . . . ? Is he still here, or has he gone?” Verin and Alanna seemed to take it very calmly that al’Thor apparently could Travel; it still made Merana a trifle queasy. What else had he taught himself that Aes Sedai had forgotten? “Alanna? Alanna!”

The slender Green sister jerked, pulling herself back from wherever her mind had been. She seemed to drift quite often. “He is in the city. In the Palace, I think.” She still sounded a little dreamy. “It was. . . . He has a wound in his side. An old wound, yet only half-healed. Every time I let myself dwell on it, I want to weep. How can he live with it?”

Seonid gave her a sharp look; any woman who had a Warder had felt his injuries. But she knew what Alanna was going through, having lost Owein, and when she spoke, her voice was almost gentle and only a little brisk. “Why, Teryl and Furen have taken wounds that almost made me faint, even feeling them as softly as we do, and they never slowed a step. Not one step.”

“I think,” Masuri said quietly, “we are going afield.” She always spoke quietly, but unlike many Browns, always to the point.

Merana nodded. “Yes. I considered taking Moiraine’s place with him. . . .”

A rap at the door announced a white-aproned woman with the tea tray. A silver teapot and porcelain cups; The Crown and Rose was used to the nobility. By the time the tray was settled and the serving woman gone, Alanna was no longer dreamy. Her dark eyes flashed with all the fire Merana had ever seen in them. Greens particularly were jealous of their Warders, and al’Thor belonged to her now, however she had bonded him. Deference went down the well when it came to that. Straight as a blade she stood, just waiting for Merana’s next words to see whether to slash and cut. Still, Merana waited until the blueberry tea was poured and everyone back in her chair. She even told Verin and Alanna to sit. The fool woman deserved a little upset, even atop Owein. Maybe it was not short of rape at all.

“I considered it,” she went on at last, “and rejected it. I might have done so if you had not done what you did, Alanna, but he is so suspicious of Aes Sedai now that he might well laugh in my face if I suggested it.”

“He is as arrogant as any king,” Seonid said curtly.

“Everything Elayne and Nynaeve said and more,” Masuri added, shaking her head. “Claiming that he knows when a woman channels. I almost embraced saidar to show him he was mistaken, but of course, whatever I did to show him might have alarmed him too much.”

“All those Aiel.” Seonid’s voice was tight; she was Cairhienin. “Men and women. I think they would have tried to spear us if we blinked too quickly. One, a sun-haired woman who was at least wearing skirts, made no effort at all to hide her dislike.”

At times, Merana thought, Seonid did not fully realize that al’Thor himself might be a danger.

Alanna unconsciously began chewing her underlip like a girl. It was good she had Verin to take care of her; she was not fit to be out alone in her state. Verin merely sipped her tea and watched; Verin’s eyes could be most disconcerting.

Merana found herself relenting. She remembered too well the fragile bundle of nerves she had been after Baran. “Fortunately, it seems there may be a good side to his suspicion. He has received emissaries from Elaida, in Cairhien. He was quite open about it. Suspicion will make him keep them at a long arm’s length, I believe.”

Seonid rested her cup in its saucer. “He thinks to play us one against the other.”

“And he might still,” Masuri said dryly, “except that we know more of him than Elaida possibly can. I think she must have sent her envoys to meet a shepherd, if a shepherd in a silk coat. Whatever he is, he is no longer that. Moiraine taught him well, it seems.”

“We were forearmed,” Merana said. “I think it unlikely they were.”

Alanna stared at them, blinking. “Then I have not ruined everything?” They all three nodded, and she took a deep breath, then smoothed at her skirts with a frown as if just noticing the wrinkles. “I may yet be able to make him accept me.” The wrinkles were abandoned, and her face and voice became calmer and more confident by the word. “As for his amnesty, we may have to hold any plans in abeyance, but that doesn’t mean we should not make them. That sort of danger cannot be ignored.”

For a moment Merana regretted her relenting. The woman had done that to a man and all that truly worried her was whether it damaged their chances of success. Reluctantly, though, she admitted that had it made al’Thor biddable, she would have held her nose, and her tongue. “First we must bring al’Thor to heel, so to speak. The abeyance will last as long as it must, Alanna.” Alanna’s mouth tightened, but after a moment she nodded in acquiescence. Or at least assent.

“And how is he to be brought to heel?” Verin asked. “He must be handled delicately. A wolf on a leash one thread thick.”

Merana hesitated. She had not meant to share everything with this pair, who had only the most tenuous allegiance to the Hall in Salidar. She dreaded what would happen if Verin tried to take over here, if in fact she did manage to take over. She herself knew how to handle this; she had been chosen because of a lifetime spent mediating sensitive disputes, negotiating treaties where the hatreds seemed implacable. That agreements were broken eventually and treaties violated was the nature of humanity, yet in eighty years, the Fifth Treaty of Falme was her only real failure. She knew all of that, but all of those years had ingrained some instincts deeply. “We are approaching certain nobles, who by good luck are all in