The Path of Daggers (The Wheel of Time #8)

The Path of Daggers (The Wheel of Time #8) Page 158

“How do you know when a woman wants to kill you?” Rand mused.

“When she knows your name?” Dobraine did not sound as if he were joking. Rand tilted his head thoughtfully, then nodded. Nodded! She hoped he was not still hearing voices.

Rand gestured as if brushing away the women who wanted to kill him. A dangerous thing, with her about. She did not want to kill him, certainly, but she would not mind seeing Sorilea go at him with that switch! Breeches did not give much protection.

“Weiramon is a fool who makes too many mistakes,” Rand told Dobraine, who nodded sober agreement. “My mistake for thinking I could use him. He seems happy enough to stay near the Dragon Reborn in any case. What else?” Min handed him a goblet, and he smiled at her despite the wine that slopped over his wrist. Maybe he thought it was an accident.

“Little else and too much,” Dobraine began, then jerked back in his chair to avoid spilling wine as Min shoved the second silver goblet at him. She had not liked her brief stint as a tavernmaid. “My thanks, my Lady Min,” he murmured graciously, but he eyed her askance as he took the goblet. She walked calmly back to fetch her own wine. Calmly.

“I fear that Lady Caraline and the High Lord Darlin are in Lady Arilyn’s palace here in the City,” the Cairhienin lord went on, “under the protection of Cadsuane Sedai. Perhaps protection is not the correct word. I have been refused entry to see them, but I hear that they have attempted to leave the City and been brought back like sacks. In a sack, one story claims. Having met Cadsuane, I can almost believe it.”

“Cadsuane,” Rand murmured, and Min felt a chill. He did not sound afraid, precisely, yet he did sound more than uneasy. “What do you think I should do about Caraline and Darlin, Min?”

Settling into a chair two away from him, Min jerked at suddenly being included. Ruefully, she stared down at the wine soaking through her best cream silk blouse, and her breeches, too. “Caraline will support Elayne for the Sun Throne,” she said glumly. For warm wine, it seemed very cold, and she doubted the stain would ever come out of the blouse. “Not a viewing, but I believe her.” She did not glance toward Dobraine, though he nodded sagely. Everyone knew about her viewings, now. The only result had been a stream of noblewomen who wanted to know their futures, and right sulky, too, when she said she could not tell them. Most would not have been pleased with the little she had seen; nothing dire, but not at all the bright wonders that fortunetellers at the fair forecast. “As for Darlin, aside from the fact that he’ll marry Caraline, after she’s wrung him out and hung him up to dry, all I can say is that one day he’ll be a king. I saw the crown on his head, a thing with a sword on the front of it, but I don’t know what country it belongs to. And, oh, yes. He’ll die in bed, and she will survive him.”

Dobraine choked on his wine, spluttering and dabbing at his lips with a plain linen handkerchief. Most of those who knew did not believe. Quite satisfied with herself, Min drank the little that remained in her goblet. And then she was choking and gasping, jerking her handkerchief from her sleeve to wipe at her mouth. Light, she would have to give herself the dregs!

Rand simply nodded, peering into his goblet. “So they will live to trouble me,” he murmured. A very soft sound, for words like stone. He was hard as a blade, her sheepherder. “And what do I do about — ”

Abruptly he twisted in his chair, toward the doors. One was opening. He had very sharp ears. Min had heard nothing.

Neither of the two Aes Sedai who entered was Cadsuane, and Min felt her shoulders loosen as she tucked her handkerchief away. While Rafela shut the door, Merana curtsied deeply to Rand, though the Gray sister’s hazel eyes took in Min and Dobraine and filed them away, and then the roundfaced Rafela was spreading her deep blue skirts wide, too. Neither rose until Rand gestured. They glided to him wearing cool serenity as they did their dresses. Except that the plump Blue sister fingered her shawl briefly as though to remind herself it was there. Min had seen that gesture before, from other sisters who had sworn fealty to Rand. It could not be easy for them. Only the White Tower commanded Aes Sedai, but Rand crooked a finger and they came, pointed and they went. Aes Sedai spoke with kings and queens as equals, perhaps slightly as their betters, yet the Wise Ones called them apprentices and expected them to obey twice as fast as Rand did.

None of that showed on Merana’s smooth face. “My Lord Dragon,” she said respectfully. “We only just learned that you had returned, and we thought you might be eager to learn how matters went with the Atha’an Miere.” She merely glanced at Dobraine, but he rose immediately. Cairhienin were used to people wanting to speak in private.

“Dobraine can stay,” Rand said curtly. Had he hesitated? He did not stand. His eyes like blue ice, he was being the Dragon Reborn for all he was worth. Min had told him these women were his in truth, that all five who had accompanied him to the Sea Folk ship were his, utterly loyal to their oath and therefore obedient to his will, yet he seemed to find trusting any Aes Sedai difficult. She understood, but he was going to have to learn how.

“As you wish,” Merana replied, inclining her head briefly. “Rafela and I have reached a bargain with the Sea Folk. The Bargain, they call it.” The difference was clear to the ear. Hands lying still on grayslashed green skirts, she drew a deep breath. She needed it. “Harine din Togara Two Winds, Wavemistress of Clan Shodein, speaking for Nesta din Reas Two Moons, Mistress of the Ships to the Atha’an Miere, and thus binding all the Atha’an Miere, has promised such ships as the Dragon Reborn needs, to sail when and where he needs them, for whatever purposes he requires.” Merana did seem to grow a touch pontifical when there were no Wise Ones around; the Wise Ones did not allow it. “In return, Rafela and I, speaking for you, promised that the Dragon Reborn will not change any laws of the Atha’an Miere, as he has done among the... ” For a moment, she faltered. “Forgive me. I am used to delivering agreements exactly as made. The word they used was ‘shorebound,’ but what they mean is what you have done in Tear and Cairhien.” A question appeared in her eyes, and was gone. Perhaps she was wondering whether he had done the same in Illian. She had expressed relief that he had changed nothing in her native Andor.

“I suppose I can live with that,” he muttered.

“Secondly,” Rafela took up, folding plump hands at her waist, “you must give the Atha’an Miere land, a square one mile on a side, at every city on navigable water that you control now or come to control.” She sounded less pompous than her companion, but only just. Nor did she sound entirely pleased with what she was saying. She was Tairen, after all, and few ports held a tighter control on their trade than Tear. “Within that area, the laws of the Atha’an Miere are to hold sway above any others. This agreement must also be made by the rulers of those ports so that... ” It was her turn to falter, and her dark ch