The Wheel of Time, page 304
Egwene smiled. She dreamed of flying like a bird all the time, and this was a dream, after all. She leaped into the air, and kept going up, toward the roofs. She wobbled as she thought how ridiculous this was—Flying? People did not fly!—then steadied again as she forced herself to be confident. She was doing it, and that was all there was to it. This was a dream, and she was flying. The wind rushed in her face, and she wanted to laugh giddily.
She skimmed across the Panarch’s Circle, where rows of stone benches slanted down from the high wall to a broad field of packed dirt in the center. Imagine so many people gathered, and to watch a fireworks display by the Guild of Illuminators themselves. Back home fireworks were a rare treat. She could remember the handful of times in her life Emond’s Field had had them, with the grown-ups as excited as the children.
She sailed over rooftops like a falcon, over palaces and mansions, humble dwellings and shops, warehouses and stables. She slid by domes topped with golden spires and bronze weathervanes, by towers ringed with lacy stone balconies. Carts and wagons dotted wagonyards, waiting. Ships crowded the great harbor and the fingers of water between the city’s peninsulas; they lined the docks. Everything seemed in a poor state of repair, from the carts to the ships, but nothing she saw pointed to the Black Ajah. As far as she knew.
She considered trying to envision Liandrin—she knew that doll’s face all too well, with its multitude of blond braids, its self-satisfied brown eyes, and its smirking rosebud mouth—picture her in the hopes she might be drawn to where the Black sister was. But if it worked, she might find Liandrin in Tel’aran’rhiod, too, and maybe others of them. She was not ready for that.
It suddenly occurred to her that if any of the Black Ajah were in Tanchico, in the Tanchico of Tel’aran’rhiod, she was flaunting herself for them. Any eye looking at the sky would notice a woman flying, one who did not vanish after a few moments. Her smooth flight staggered, and she swooped down below roof level, floating along the streets more slowly than before but still faster than a horse could run. She might be rushing toward them, but she could not make herself stop and wait for them.
Fool! she called herself furiously. Fool! They could know I’m here now. They could be laying a trap already. She considered stepping out of the dream, back to her bed in Tear, but she had found nothing. If there was anything to find.
A tall woman was suddenly standing in the street ahead of her, slim in a bulky brown skirt and loose white blouse, with a brown shawl around her shoulders and a folded scarf around her forehead to hold white hair that spilled to her waist. Despite her plain clothes she wore a great many necklaces and bracelets of gold or ivory or both. Fists planted on her hips, she stared straight at Egwene, frowning.
Another fool woman who’s dreamed herself where she has no right to be and doesn’t believe what she’s seeing, Egwene thought. She had the description of every woman who had gone with Liandrin, and this woman certainly matched none of them. But the woman did not vanish again; she stood there as Egwene approached swiftly. Why doesn’t she go? Why . . . ? Oh, Light! She’s really . . . ! She snatched for the flows to weave lightning, to tangle the woman in Air, fumbling in startled haste.
“Put your feet on the ground, girl,” the woman barked. “I had enough trouble finding you again without you flying off like some bird when I do.”
Abruptly Egwene stopped flying. Her feet thumped hard on the pavement, and she staggered. It was the Aiel woman’s voice, but this was an older woman. Not as old as Egwene had thought at first—in fact, she looked much younger than her white hair suggested—but with the voice, and those sharp blue eyes, she was sure it was the same woman. “You’re . . . different,” she said.
“You can be what you wish to be, here.” The woman sounded embarrassed, but only a little. “At times I like to remember . . . . That is not important. You are from the White Tower? It has been long since they had a dreamwalker. Very long. I am Amys, of the Nine Valleys sept of the Taardad Aiel.”
“You are a Wise One? You are! And you know dreams, you know Tel’aran’rhiod! You can . . . . My name is Egwene. Egwene al’Vere. I . . . .” She took a deep breath; Amys did not look a woman to lie to. “I am Aes Sedai. Of the Green Ajah.”
Amys’s expression did not change, really. A slight crinkling of her eyes, perhaps in skepticism. Egwene hardly looked old enough to be full Aes Sedai. What she said, though, was “I meant to leave you standing in your skin until you asked for some proper clothes. Putting on cadin’sor that way, as though you were . . . . You surprised me, pulling free as you did, turning my own spear on me. But you are still untaught, are you not, however strong. Else you would not have popped into the middle of my hunt that way, where you obviously did not wish to be. And this flying about? Did you come to Tel’aran’rhiod—Tel’aran’rhiod!—to stare at this city, wherever it is?”
“It’s Tanchico,” Egwene said faintly. She didn’t know. But then how had Amys followed her, or found her? It was obvious she knew more of the World of Dreams than Egwene did, by far. “You can help me. I am trying to find women of the Black Ajah, Darkfriends. I think they are here, and I have to find them if they are.”
“It truly exists, then.” Amys almost whispered it. “An Ajah of Shadowrunners in the White Tower.” She shook her head. “You are like a girl just wedded to the spear who thinks now she can wrestle men and leap mountains. For her it means a few bruises and a valuable lesson in humility. For you, here, it could mean death.” Amys eyed the white buildings around them and grimaced. “Tanchico? In . . . Tarabon? This city is dying, eating itself. There is a darkness here, an evil. Worse than men can make. Or women.” She looked at Egwene pointedly. “You cannot see it, or feel it, can you? And you want to hunt Shadowrunners in Tel’aran’rhiod.”
“Evil?” Egwene said quickly. “That could be them. Are you sure? If I told you what they look like, could you be certain it was them? I can describe them. I can describe one to her last braid.”
“A child,” Amys muttered, “demanding a silver bracelet from her father this minute when she knows nothing of trading or the making of bracelets. You have much to learn. Far more than I can begin to teach you, now. Come to the Three-fold Land. I will have the word spread through the clans that an Aes Sedai called Egwene al’Vere is to be brought to me at Cold Rocks Hold. Give your name and show your Great Serpent ring, and you will have safe running. I am not there now, but I will return from Rhuidean before you can arrive.”
“Please, you must help me. I need to know if they are here. I have to know.”
“But I cannot tell you. I do not know them, or this place, this Tanchico. You must come to me. What you do is dangerous, far more dangerous than you know. You must—Where are you going? Stay!”
Something seemed to snatch at Egwene, pulling her into darkness.
Amys’s voice followed her, hollow and dwindling. “You must come to me and learn. You must . . . .
CHAPTER 12
Tanchico or the Tower
Elayne drew a ragged, relieved breath as Egwene finally stirred and opened her eyes. At the foot of the bed, Aviendha’s features lost their tinge of frustration and anxiety, and she flashed a quick smile that Egwene returned. The candle had burned past the mark minutes ago; it seemed an hour.
“You would not wake up,” Elayne said unsteadily. “I shook you and shook you, but you would not wake.” She gave a small laugh. “Oh, Egwene, you even frightened Aviendha.”
Egwene put a hand on her arm and squeezed reassuringly. “I am back, now.” She sounded tired, and she had sweated her shift through. “I suppose I had reason to stay a little longer than we planned. I will be more careful next time. I promise.”
Nynaeve returned the pitcher of water to the washstand vigorously, sloshing some out. She had been on the point of throwing it in Egwene’s sleeping face. Her features were composed, but the pitcher rattled the washbowl, and she let the spilled water drip to the carpet. “Was it something you found? Or was it . . . ? Egwene, if the World of Dreams can hold on to you in some way, maybe it is too dangerous until you learn more. Maybe the more often you go, the harder it is to come back. Maybe . . . . I don’t know. But I do know we cannot risk letting you become lost.” She crossed her arms under her breasts, ready for an argument.
“I know,” Egwene said, very close to meekly. Elayne’s eyebrows shot up; Egwene was never meek with Nynaeve. Anything but.
Egwene struggled off the bed, refusing Elayne’s help, and made her way to the washstand to bathe her face and arms in the relatively cool water. Elayne found a dry shift in the wardrobe while Egwene pulled off her sodden one.
“I met a Wise One, a woman named Amys.” Egwene’s voice was muffled until her head popped out of the top of the new shift. “She said I should come to her, to learn about Tel’aran’rhiod. At some place in the Waste called Cold Rocks Hold.”
Elayne had caught a flicker of Aviendha’s eye at the mention of the Wise One’s name. “Do you know her? Amys?”
The Aiel woman’s nod could only be described as reluctant. “A Wise One. A dreamwalker. Amys was Far Dareis Mai until she gave up the spear to go to Rhuidean.”
“A Maiden!” Egwene exclaimed. “So that’s why she . . . . No matter. She said she is at Rhuidean, now. Do you know where this Cold Rocks Hold is, Aviendha?”
“Of course. Cold Rocks is Rhuarc’s hold. Rhuarc is Amys’s husband. I visit there, sometimes. I used to. My sister-mother, Lian, is sister-wife to Amys.”
Elayne exchanged confused glances with Egwene and Nynaeve. Once Elayne had thought she knew a good bit about Aiel, all learned from her teachers in Caemlyn, but she had discovered since meeting Aviendha how little she did know. Customs and relationships all were a maze. First-sisters meant having the same mother; except that it was possible for friends to become first-sisters by making a pledge before Wise Ones. Second-sisters meant your mothers were sisters; if your fathers were brothers, you were father-sisters, and not considered as closely related as second-sisters. After that, it truly grew bewildering.
“What does ‘sister-wife’ mean?” she asked hesitantly.
“That you have the same husband.” Aviendha frowned at the way Egwene gasped and Nynaeve’s eyes opened as wide as they would go. Elayne had been half-expecting the answer, but she still found herself fussing with skirts that were perfectly straight. “This is not your custom?” the Aiel woman asked.
“No,” Egwene said faintly. “No, it is not.”
“But you and Elayne care for one another as first-sisters. What would you have done had one of you been unwilling to step aside for Rand al’Thor? Fight over him? Let a man damage the ties between you? Would it not have been better if you both had married him, then?”
Elayne looked at Egwene. The thought of . . . . Could she have done such a thing? Even with Egwene? She knew her cheeks were red. Egwene merely looked startled.
“But I wanted to step aside,” Egwene said.
Elayne knew the remark was as much for her as for Aviendha, but the thought would not go away. Had Min had a viewing? What would she do if Min had? If it’s Berelain, I will strangle her, and him too! If it has to be someone, why couldn’t it be Egwene? Light, what am I thinking? She knew she was becoming flustered, and to cover it, she made her voice light. “You sound as if the man has no choice in the matter.”
“He can say no,” Aviendha said as if it were obvious, “but if he wishes to marry one, he must marry both when they ask. Please take no offense, but I was shocked when I learned that in your lands a man can ask a woman to marry him. A man should make his interest known, then wait for the woman to speak. Of course, some women lead a man to see where his interest lies, but the right of the question is hers. I do not really know very much of these things. I have wanted to be Far Dareis Mai since I was a child. All I want in life is the spear and my spear-sisters,” she finished quite fiercely.
“No one is going to try to make you marry,” Egwene said soothingly. Aviendha gave her a startled look.
Nynaeve cleared her throat loudly. Elayne wondered if she had been thinking about Lan; there were certainly hard spots of color in her cheeks. “I suppose, Egwene,” Nynaeve said in a slightly too energetic voice, “that you did not find what you were looking for, or you would have said something by now.”
“I found nothing,” Egwene replied regretfully. “But Amys said . . . . Aviendha, what sort of woman is Amys?”
The Aiel woman had taken up a study of the carpet. “Amys is hard as the mountains and pitiless as the sun,” she said without looking up. “She is a dreamwalker. She can teach you. Once she lays her hands on you, she will drag you by the hair toward what she wants. Rhuarc is the only one who can stand up to her. Even the other Wise Ones step carefully when Amys speaks. But she can teach you.”
Egwene shook her head. “I meant would being in a strange place unsettle her, make her nervous? Being in a city? Would she see things that weren’t there?”
Aviendha’s laugh was a short, sharp sound. “Nervous? Waking to find a lion in her bed would not make Amys nervous. She was a Maiden, Egwene, and she has grown no softer, you can be sure of it.”
“What did this woman see?” Nynaeve asked.
“It wasn’t something she saw, exactly,” Egwene said slowly. “I think not seeing. She said Tanchico had an evil in it. Worse than men could make, she said. That could be the Black Ajah. Don’t argue with me, Nynaeve,” she added in a firmer voice. “Dreams have to be interpreted. It very well could be.”
Nynaeve had begun frowning as soon as Egwene mentioned evil in Tanchico, and her frown turned to a heated glare when Egwene told her not to argue. Sometimes Elayne wanted to shake both women. She stepped in quickly, before the older woman could erupt. “It very well could be, Egwene. You did find something. More than Nynaeve or I thought you could. Didn’t she, Nynaeve? Don’t you think so?”
“It could be,” Nynaeve said grudgingly.
“It could be.” Egwene did not sound happy about it. She took a deep breath. “Nynaeve is right. I have to learn what I’m doing. If I knew what I should, I would not have had to be told about the evil. If I knew what I should, I could have found the very room Liandrin is staying in, wherever she is. Amys can teach me. That is why . . . . That is why I have to go to her.”
“Go to her?” Nynaeve sounded appalled. “Into the Waste?”
“Aviendha can take me right to this Cold Rocks Hold.” Egwene’s look, half-defiant, half-anxious, darted between Elayne and Nynaeve. “If I was certain they were in Tanchico, I wouldn’t let you go alone. If you decide to. But with Amys to help me, maybe I can find out where they are. Maybe I can . . . . That is just it; I do not even know what I’ll be able to do, only that I am certain it will be far more than I can now. It isn’t as if I will be abandoning you. You can take the ring with you. You know the Stone well enough to come back here in Tel’aran’rhiod. I can come to you in Tanchico. Whatever I learn from Amys, I can teach you. Please say you understand. I can learn so much from Amys, and then I can use it to help you. It will be as if all three of us had been trained by her. A dreamwalker; a woman who knows! Liandrin and the rest of them will be like children; they won’t know a quarter of what we do.” She chewed her lip, one pensive bite. “You don’t believe I am running out on you, do you? If you do, I won’t go.”
“Of course you must go,” Elayne told her. “I will miss you, but no one promised us we could stay together until this was done.”
“But the two of you . . . going alone . . . I should go with you. If they really are in Tanchico, I should be with you.”
“Nonsense,” Nynaeve said briskly. “Training is what you need. That will do us far more good in the long run than your company to Tanchico. It isn’t even as if we know any of them are in Tanchico. If they are, Elayne and I will do very well together, but we could arrive and find that this evil is no more than the war after all. The Light knows, war should be evil enough for anyone. We may be back in the Tower before you are. You must be careful in the Waste,” she added in a practical tone. “It is a dangerous place. Aviendha, you will look after her?”
Before the Aiel woman could open her mouth, there was a knock at the door, followed immediately by Moiraine. The Aes Sedai took them in with one sweeping look that weighed, measured and considered them and what they had been doing, all without the twitch of an eyelid to suggest her conclusions. “Joiya and Amico are dead,” she announced.
“Was that the reason for the attack, then?” Nynaeve said. “All that to kill them? Or perhaps to kill them if they could not be freed. I’ve been sure Joiya was so confident because she expected rescue. She must have been lying after all. I never trusted her repentance.”
“Not the main purpose, perhaps,” Moiraine replied. “The captain very wisely kept his men to their posts in the dungeons during the attack. They never saw a single Trolloc or Myrddraal. But they found the pair dead, after. Each with her throat rather messily cut. After her tongue had been nailed to her cell door.” She might as well have been speaking of having a dress mended.
Elayne’s stomach heaved leadenly at the detached description. “I would not have wanted that for them. Not like that. The Light illumine their souls.”
“They sold their souls to the Shadow long ago,” Egwene said roughly. She had both hands pressed to her stomach, though. “How . . . . How was it done? Gray Men?”
“I doubt even Gray Men could have managed that,” Moiraine said dryly. “The Shadow has resources beyond what we know, it seems.”
“Yes.” Egwene smoothed her dress, and her voice. “If there was no attempt at rescue, it must mean they were both telling the truth. They were killed because they talked.”
