Wheel Of Time - Knife Of Dreams Part 2

CHAPTER 24

Honey in the Tea

Egwene knew from the start that her strange captivity would be difficult, yet she believed that embracing pain as the Aiel did would be the easiest part. After all, she had been beaten severely when she paid her toh to the Wise Ones for lying, strapped by one after another in turn, so she had experience. But embracing pain did not mean just giving way to it rather than fighting. You had to draw the pain inside of you and welcome it as a part of you. Aviendha said you must be able to smile and laugh with joy or sing while the worst of the pain still gripped you. That was not so easy at all.That first morning before dawn, in Silviana's study, she did her best while the Mistress of Novices plied a hard-soled slipper on her bared bottom. She made no effort to stifle her sobs when they came, or later her wordless howls. When her legs wanted to kick, she allowed them to flail until the Mistress of Novices trapped them under one of hers, awkwardly because of Silviana's skirts, and then she let her toes drum the floor while her head tossed wildly. She tried to draw the pain inside her, to drink it in like breath. Pain was as much a part of life as breathing. That was how the Aiel saw life. But, oh, Light, it hurt!When she was finally allowed to straighten, after what seemed a very long time, she flinched when her shift and dress fell against her flesh. The white wool seemed heavy as lead. She attempted to welcome the scalding heat. It was hard, though. So very hard. Still, it seemed that her sobbing stopped very quickly of its own accord, and her flow of tears dried up rapidly. She did not snivel or writhe. She studied herself in the mirror on the wall, with its fading gilt. How many thousands of women had peered into that mirror over the years? Those who were disciplined in this room were always required to study their own reflection afterward and think over why they had been punished, but that was not why she did it. Her face was still red, yet already it looked . . . calm. Despite the painful heat in her bottom, she actually felt calm. Perhaps she should try singing? Perhaps not. Plucking a white linen handkerchief from her sleeve, she carefully dried her cheeks.Silviana studied her with a look of satisfaction before replacing the slipper in the narrow cabinet opposite the mirror. "I think I got your attention from the start, or I'd have gone harder," she said dryly, patting the bun on the back of her head. "I doubt I will see you again soon in any case. You may like to know that I asked questions as you requested. Melare had already begun asking. The woman is Leane Sharif, though the Light knows how. . . ." Trailing off, shaking her head, she pulled her chair back around behind the writing table and sat. "She was most anxious about you, more so than about herself. You may visit her in your free time. If you have any free time. I'll give instructions. She's in the open cells. And now you had better run if you want anything to eat before your first cla.s.s.""Thank you," Egwene said, and turned toward the door.Silviana sighed heavily. "No curtsy, child?" Dipping her pen in the silver-mounted ink jar, she began to write in the punishment ledger, a neat, precise hand. "I will see you at midday. It seems you will eat both of your first two meals back in the Tower standing."Egwene could have left it there, but in the night, while waiting for the Sitters to gather in the Hall in Tel'aran'rhiod, she had decided on the fine line she must walk. She meant to fight, yet she had to do it while appearing to go along. To some extent, at least. Within the limits she set herself. Refusing every order would mean appearing merely obstinate-and perhaps would get her confined to a cell, where she would be useless-but some commands she must not obey if she was to maintain any sc.r.a.p of dignity. And that, she had to do. More than sc.r.a.ps. She could not allow them to deny who she was, however hard they insisted. "The Amyrlin Seat curtsies to no one," she said calmly, knowing full well the reaction she would get.Silviana's face hardened, and she took up her pen again. "I will see you at the dinner hour, as well. I suggest you leave without speaking further, unless you wish to end spending the entire day over my knee."Egwene left without speaking. And without curtsying. A fine line, like a wire suspended over a deep pit. But she had to walk it.To her surprise, Alviarin was pacing up and down in the hall outside, wrapped in her white-fringed shawl and hugging herself, staring at something in the unseen distance. She knew the woman was no longer Elaida's Keeper, if not why she had been removed so suddenly. Spying in Telaran'rhiod gave only glimpses and s.n.a.t.c.hes; it was an uncertain reflection of the waking world in so many ways. Alviarin must have heard her yowling, but strangely, Egwene felt no shame. She was fighting an odd battle, and in battle, you took wounds. The normally icy White did not appear so cool today. In fact, she seemed quite agitated, her lips parted and her eyes hot. Egwene offered her no courtesies, yet Alviarin only gave her a baleful glare before entering Silviana's study. A fine line.A little down the corridor, a pair of Reds stood watching, one round-faced, the other slender, both cool-eyed, with shawls draped along their arms so the long red fringe was displayed prominently. Not the same pair who had been there when she woke, but they were not present by happenstance. They were not precisely guards, and then again, they were not precisely not guards. She did not curtsy to these, either. They watched her without expression.Before she had taken more than half a dozen steps along the red-and-green floor tiles, she heard a woman's pained howling start up behind her, hardly m.u.f.fled at all by the heavy door to Silviana's study. So Alviarin was taking a penance, and not doing well to be shrieking at the top of her lungs so soon. Unless she also was trying to embrace pain, which seemed unlikely. Egwene wished she knew why Alviarin was undergoing penance, if it was an imposed penance. A general had scouts and eyes-and-ears to inform him on his enemy. She had only her own eyes and her own ears, and what little she could learn in the Unseen World. Any sc.r.a.p of knowledge might prove useful, though, so she must dig for every one possible.Breakfast or no breakfast, she returned to her tiny room in the novice quarters long enough to wash her face in cool water at the wash-stand and comb her hair. That comb, which had been in her belt pouch, was among the few personal belongings she retained. In the night, the clothes she had been wearing when captured vanished, replaced by novice white, but the dresses and shifts that hung from pegs on the white wall truly were hers. Stored away when she was raised Accepted, they still carried small tags st.i.tched with her name sewn into their hems. The Tower was never wasteful. You never knew when a new girl would fit an old set of clothes. But having nothing to wear save novice white did not make her a novice, whatever Elaida and the others believed.Not until she was sure that her face was no longer red and she looked as collected as she felt did she leave. When you had few weapons, your appearance could be one. The same two Reds were waiting on the railed gallery to shadow her.The dining hall where novices ate lay on the lowest level of the Tower, to one side of the main kitchen. It was a large white-walled chamber, plain though the floor tiles showed all the Ajah colors, and filled with tables, each of which could accommodate six or eight women on small benches. A hundred or more white-clad women were sitting at those tables, chattering away over breakfast. Elaida must be very set up over their number. The Tower had not held so many novices in years. Doubtless even news of the Tower breaking had been enough to put the thought of going to Tar Valon into some heads. Egwene was not impressed. These women filled barely half the dining hall if that, and there was another like it one floor up, closed now for centuries. Once she gained the Tower, that second kitchen would be opened again, and the novices still would need to eat by shifts, something unknown since well before the Trolloc Wars.Nicola caught sight of her as soon as she walked in-the woman appeared to have been watching for her-and nudged the novices to either side. Silence slid across the tables in a wave, and every head turned as Egwene glided down the central aisle. She looked neither to left nor right.Halfway to the kitchen door, a short slim novice with long dark hair suddenly stuck out a foot and tripped her. Catching her balance just short of falling on her face, she turned coolly. Another skirmish. The young woman had the pale look of a Cairhienin. This close, Egwene could be sure that she would be tested for Accepted unless she had other failings. But the Tower was good at rooting out such things."What is your name?" she said."Alvistere," the young woman replied, her accent confirming her face. "Why do you want to know? So you can carry tales to Silviana? It will do you no good. Everyone will say they saw nothing.""A pity, that, Alvistere. You want to become Aes Sedai and give up the ability to lie, yet you want others to lie for you. Do you see any inconsistency in that?"Alvistere's face reddened. "Who are you to lecture me?""I am the Amyrlin Seat. A prisoner, but still the Amyrlin Seat."Alvistere's big eyes widened, and whispers buzzed through the room as Egwene walked on to the kitchen. They had not believed she would still claim the t.i.tle while garbed in white and sleeping among them. As well to disabuse them of that notion quickly.The kitchen was a large, high-ceilinged room with gray-tiled floors, where the roasting spits in the long stone fireplace were still but the iron stoves and ovens radiated enough heat that she would have begun perspiring immediately had she not known how to ignore it. She had labored in this kitchen often enough, and it seemed certain she would again. Dining halls surrounded it on three sides, for the Accepted and for Aes Sedai as well as novices. Laras, the Mistress of the Kitchens, was waddling about sweaty-faced in a spotless white ap.r.o.n that could have made three novice dresses, waving her long wooden spoon like a scepter as she directed cooks and undercooks and scullions who scurried for her as fast as they would have for any queen. Perhaps faster. A queen would be unlikely to give anyone a smack with her scepter for moving too slowly.A great deal of the food seemed to be going onto trays, sometimes worked silver, sometimes carved wood and perhaps gilded, that women carried away through the door to the sisters' main dining hall. Not kitchen serving women with the white Flame of Tar Valon on their bosoms, but dignified women in well-cut woolens with an occasional touch of embroidery, sisters' personal servants who would make the long climb back to the Ajah quarters.Any Aes Sedai could eat in her own rooms if she wished, though it meant channeling to warm the food again, yet most enjoyed company at meals. At least, they had. That steady stream of women carrying out cloth-covered trays was a confirmation that the White Tower was spiderwebbed with cracks. She should have felt pleasure at that. Elaida stood on a platform that was ready to crumble beneath her. But the Tower was home. All she felt was sadness. And anger at Elaida, too. That one deserved to be pulled down simply for what she had done to the Tower since gaining the stole and staff!Laras gave her one long look, drawing in her chin until she had a fourth, then returned to brandishing her spoon and looking over an undercook's shoulder. The woman had helped Siuan and Leane escape, once, so her loyalties to Elaida were weak. Would she help another now? She was certainly making every effort to avoid looking in Egwene's direction again. Another undercook, who likely did not know her from any other novice, a smiling woman still working on her second chin, handed her a wooden tray with a large, stout cup of steaming tea and a thick, white-glazed plate of bread, olives and crumbly white cheese that she carried back into the dining hall.Silence fell again, and once more every eye centered on her. Of course. They knew she had been summoned to the Mistress of Novices. They were waiting to see whether she would eat standing. She wanted very much to ease herself onto the hard wooden bench, but she made herself sit down normally. Which reignited the flames, of course. Not as strongly as before, yet strong enough to make her shift before she could stop herself. Strangely, she felt no real desire to grimace or squirm. To stand, yes, but not the other. The pain was part of her. She accepted it without struggle. She tried to welcome it, yet that still seemed beyond her.She tore a piece of bread-there were weevils in the flour here, too, it appeared-and slowly the conversation in the room started up again, quietly because novices were expected not to make too much noise. At her table also the talk resumed, though no one made any effort to include her. That was just as well. She was not here to make friends among the novices. Nor to have them see her as one of themselves. No, her purpose was far different.Leaving the hall with the novices after returning her tray to the kitchen, she found another pair of Reds waiting for her. One was Katerine Alruddin, vulpine in copiously red-slashed gray, a ma.s.s of raven hair falling in waves to her waist and her shawl looped over her elbows."Drink this," Katerine said imperiously, extending a pewter cup in one slim hand. "All of it, mind." The other Red, dark and square-faced, adjusted her shawl impatiently and grimaced. Apparently she disliked acting as a serving woman even by a.s.sociation. Or perhaps it was dislike for what was in the cup.Suppressing a sigh, Egwene drank. The weak forkroot tea looked and tasted like water tinged a faint brown, with just a hint of mint. Almost a memory of mint rather than the taste itself. Her first cup had been soon after waking, the Red sisters on duty eager to be done with shielding and about their own business. Katerine had let the hour slip a little, yet even without this cup, she doubted she would have been able to channel very strongly for some time yet. Certainly not with enough strength to be useful."I don't want to be late for my first cla.s.s," she said, handing the cup back. Katerine took it, though she seemed surprised to realize that she had. Egwene glided on after the novices before the sister could object. Or remember to call her down for failing to curtsy.That first cla.s.s, in a plain, windowless room where ten novices occupied benches for thirty or more, was every bit the disaster she expected. Not a disaster for her, however, no matter the outcome. The instructor was Idrelle Menford, a lanky, hard-eyed woman who had already been Accepted when Egwene first came to the Tower. She still wore the white dress with the seven bands of color at hem and cuffs. Egwene took a seat at the end of a bench, once again without consideration for her tenderness. That had lessened, though not very far. Drink in the pain.Standing on a small dais at the front of the room, Idrelle looked down her long nose with more than a spark of satisfaction at seeing Egwene in white once more. It almost softened her frown, a fixture with Idrelle. "You have all gone beyond making simple b.a.l.l.s of fire," she told the cla.s.s, "but let's see what our new girl is capable of. She used to think a great deal of herself, you know." Several of the novices t.i.ttered. "Make a ball of fire, Egwene. Go on, child." A ball of fire? That was one of the earliest things novices learned. What was she about?Opening herself to the Source, Egwene embraced saidar, let it rush into her. The forkroot allowed only a trickle, a thread where she was accustomed to torrents, yet it was the Power, and trickle or no, it brought all of the life and joy of saidar, all the heightened awareness of herself and the room around her. Awareness of herself meant her smarting bottom suddenly felt freshly slippered again, but she did not shift. Breathe in the pain. She could smell the faint aroma of soap from the novices' morning wash, see a tiny vein pulsing on Idrelle's forehead. Part of her wanted to clout the woman's ear with a flow of Air, but given the amount of the Power she commanded now, Idrelle would barely feel it. Instead, she channeled Fire and Air to produce a small ball of green fire that floated in front of her. A pale, pitiful thing it was, actually transparent."Very good," Idrelle said sarcastically. Ah, yes. She had just wanted to begin by showing the novices how weak Egwene's channeling was. "Release saidar. Now, cla.s.s-"Egwene added a blue ball, then a brown, and a gray, making them spin around one another. "Release the Source!" Idrelle said brusquely.A yellow ball joined the others, a white, and finally, a red ball. Quickly she added rings of fire one inside the other around the whirling b.a.l.l.s. Red came first this time, because she wanted it smallest, green last and largest. Had she been able to choose an Ajah, it would have been the Green. Seven rings of fire rotated, no two in the same direction, around seven b.a.l.l.s of fire that carried out an intricate dance at the heart. Pale and thin they might be, yet it was an impressive display beyond dividing her flows fourteen ways. Juggling with the Power was not all that much easier than juggling with your hands."Stop that!" Idrelle shouted. "Stop it!" The glow of saidar enveloped the teacher, and a switch of Air struck Egwene hard across the back. "I said stop it!" The switch struck again, then again.Egwene calmly kept the rings spinning, the b.a.l.l.s dancing. After Silviana's hard-swung slipper, it was easy to drink in the pain of Idrelle's blows. If not to welcome it. Would she ever be able to smile while she was being beaten?Katerine and the other Red appeared in the doorway. "What is going on in here?" the raven-haired sister demanded. Her companion's eyes widened when she saw what Egwene was doing. It was very unlikely that either of them could divide their flows so far.The novices all popped to their feet and curtsied when the Aes Sedai entered, of course. Egwene remained seated.Idrelle spread her banded skirts looking fl.u.s.tered. "She won't stop," she wailed. "I told her to, but she won't!""Stop that, Egwene," Katerine ordered firmly.Egwene maintained her weaves until the woman opened her mouth again. Only then did she release saidar and stand.Katerine's mouth snapped shut, and she took a deep breath. Her face retained its Aes Sedai serenity, but her eyes glittered. "You will run to Silviana's study and tell her that you disobeyed your instructor and disrupted a cla.s.s. Go!"Pausing long enough to straighten her skirts-when she obeyed, she must not do so with any appearance of eagerness or haste-Egwene squeezed past the two Aes Sedai and glided up the hallway."I told you to run," Katerine said sharply behind her.A flow of Air struck her still sensitive bottom. Accept the pain. Another blow. Drink in the pain like breath. A third, hard enough to stagger her. Welcome the pain."Unhand me, Jezrail," Katerine snarled."I'll do no such thing," the other sister said with a strong Tairen accent. "You go too far, Katerine. A swat or two is permitted, but punishing her further belongs to the Mistress of Novices. Light, at this rate, you'll leave her unable to walk before she reaches Silviana."Katerine breathed heavily. "Very well," she said at last. "But she can add disobeying a sister to her list of offenses. I will inquire, Egwene, so don't think you can let it slip your mind."When she stepped into the Mistress of Novices' study, Silviana's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Again so soon? Fetch the slipper from the cabinet, child, and tell me what you've done now."After two more cla.s.ses and two more visits to Silviana's study-she refused to be made mock of, and if an Accepted did not want her doing a thing better than the Accepted herself could, the woman should not ask her to do it at all-plus her foreordained midday appointment between, the stern-faced woman decided that she was to have Healing to begin each day."Else you'll soon be too bruised to spank without bringing blood. But don't think this means I am going easy on you. If you require Healing three times a day, I'll just spank all the harder to make up. If need be, I'll go to the strap or the switch. Because I will make your head straight, child. Believe me on that."Those three cla.s.ses, leaving three very embarra.s.sed Accepted, had another result. Her teaching was shifted to sessions alone with Aes Sedai, something normally reserved for Accepted. That meant climbing the long, tapestry-lined spiraling corridors to the Ajah quarters, where sisters stood at the entrances like guards. They were guards, in truth. Visitors from other Ajahs were unwelcome, to say the least. In fact, she never saw any Aes Sedai near the quarters of another Ajah.Except for Sitters, she seldom saw sisters in the hallways outside the quarters other than in groups, always wearing their shawls, usually with Warders following close behind, but this was not like the fear that gripped the encampment outside the walls. Here it was always sisters of the same Ajah together, and when two groups pa.s.sed, they cut each other dead if they did not glare.In the worst of summer the Tower remained cool, yet the air seemed feverish and gelid when sisters of different Ajahs came too close. Even the Sitters she recognized walked quickly. The few who realized who she was gave her long, studying looks, but most appeared distracted. Pevara Tazanovni, a plumply pretty Sitter for the Red, almost walked into her one day-she was not going to jump aside, even for Sitters-but Pevara hurried on as if she had not noticed. Another time Doesine Alwain, boyishly slim if elegantly dressed, did the same while deep in conversation with another Yellow sister. Neither glanced at her twice. She wished she had some idea who the other Yellow was.She knew the names of the ten "ferrets" Sheriam and the others had sent into the Tower to try undermining Elaida, and she very much would have liked to make contact with them, but she did not know their faces, and asking after them would only draw attention to them. She hoped one of them would pull her aside or hand her a note, but none did. Her battle would have to be fought alone except for Leane unless she overheard something that put faces to some of those names.She did not neglect Leane, of course. Her second night back in the Tower she went down to the open cells after supper despite her bone-deep weariness. Those half-dozen rooms in the first bas.e.m.e.nt were where women who could channel were held if not to be closely confined. Each held a large cage of iron latticework that ran from stone floor to stone ceiling, with a s.p.a.ce around it four paces wide and iron stand-lamps to provide light. At Leane's cell, two Browns were sitting on benches against the wall with a Warder, a wide-shouldered man with a beautiful face and touches of white at his temples. He looked up when Egwene walked in, then returned to honing his dagger on a stone.One of the Browns was Felaana Bevaine, slender with long yellow hair that gleamed as if she brushed it several times a day. She stopped writing in a leather-bound notebook on a lapdesk long enough to say in a raspy voice, "Oh. It's you, is it? Well, Silviana said you can visit, child, but don't give her anything without showing it to Dalevien or me, and don't make any fuss." She promptly returned to her writing. Dalevien, a stocky woman with gray streaking her short dark hair, never looked up from her comparison of the text of two books, one held open on either knee. The glow of saidar shone around her, and she was maintaining a shield on Leane, but there was no reason for her to look once it had been woven.Egwene lost no time in rushing to thrust her hands through the iron lattice and clasp Leane's. "Silviana told me they finally believe who you are," she said, laughing, "but I didn't expect to find you in such luxury."It was luxury only when held up alongside the small dark cells where a sister might be held for trial, with rushes on the floor for a mattress and a blanket only if you were lucky, yet Leane's accommodations did appear reasonably comfortable. She had a small bed that looked softer than those in the novice quarters, a ladder-back chair with a ta.s.seled blue cushion, and a table that held three books and a tray with the remains of her supper. There was even a washstand, though the white pitcher and bowl both had chips and the mirror was bubbled, and a privacy screen, opaque enough that she would be only a shadowy shape behind it, hid the chamber pot.Leane laughed, too. "Oh, I am very popular," she said briskly. Even the way she stood seemed languorous, the very image of a seductive Domani despite plain dark woolens, but that brisk voice remained from before she had decided to remake herself as she wanted to be. "I've had a steady stream of visitors all day, from every Ajah except the Red. Even the Greens try to convince me to teach them how to Travel, and they mainly want to get their hands on me because I 'claim' to be Green now." She shivered much too ostentatiously for it to be real. "That would be as bad as being back with Melare and Desala. Dreadful woman, Desala." Her smile faded away like mist in a noonday sun. "They told me they'd put you in white. Better than the alternatives, I suppose. They give you forkroot? Me, too."Surprised, Egwene glanced toward the sister holding the shield, and Leane snorted."Custom. If I weren't shielded, I could swat a fly and not hurt it, but custom says a woman in the open cells is always shielded. But they just let you wander around otherwise?""Not exactly." Egwene said dryly. "There are two Reds waiting outside to escort me to my room and shield me while I sleep."Leane sighed. "So, I'm in a cell, you are being watched, and we're both full of forkroot tea." She cast a sidelong look at the two Browns. Felaana was still intent on her writing. Dalevien turned pages in the two books on her knees and began muttering under her breath. The Warder must have intended to shave with that dagger, he was honing it so keen. His main attention seemed to be on the doorway, though. Leane lowered her voice. "So when do we escape?""We don't," Egwene told her, and related her reasons and her plan in a near whisper while watching the sisters out of the corner of her eye. She told Leane everything she had seen. And done. It was hard to tell how many times she had been spanked that day, and how she had behaved during, but necessary to convince the other woman that she would not be broken."I can see any sort of raid is out of the question, but I had hoped-" The Warder shifted, and Leane cut off, but he was merely sheathing his dagger. Folding his arms across his chest and stretching his legs out, he leaned back against the wall, his eyes on the doorway. He looked as if he could be on his feet in the blink of an eye. "Laras helped me escape once," she went on softly, "but I don't know that she would do it again." She shivered, and there was nothing fake about it this time. She had been stilled when Laras helped her and Siuan escape. "She did it for Min more than for Siuan or me, anyway. Are you certain about this? A hard woman, Silviana Brehon. Fair, so I hear, but hard enough to break iron. Are you absolutely certain, Mother?" When Egwene said that she was, Leane sighed again. "Well, we'll be two worms gnawing at the root then, won't we." It was not a question.She visited Leane every night that exhaustion failed to drag her to her bed straight after supper, and found her astonishingly sanguine for a prisoner confined to a cell. Leane's stream of visiting sisters was continuing, and she slipped the tidbits Egwene suggested into every conversation. Those visitors could not order an Aes Sedai punished, even one held in the open cells, though a few grew angry enough to wish they could, and besides, hearing those things from a sister carried more weight than hearing them from one they saw as a novice. Leane could even argue openly, at least until the visitors stalked out. But she reported that many did not. A few agreed with her. Cautiously, hesitantly, perhaps on one point and not others, but they agreed. Almost as important, to Leane at least, some of the Greens decided that since she had been stilled and thus was no longer Aes Sedai for a time, she had the right to ask admission to any Ajah once she was a sister again. Not all by any means, but "few" was better than "none."Egwene began to think that Leane in her cell was having more effect than she was roaming free. Well, free after a fashion. She was not exactly jealous. This was important work they were doing, and it did not matter which of them did it better so long as it got done. But there were times when it made the trek to Silviana's study much harder. Still, she had successes. Of a sort.That first afternoon, in Bennae Nalsad's cluttered sitting room- books stood in haphazard stacks everywhere on the floor tiles, and the shelves were full of bones and skulls and the preserved skins of animals, birds and snakes along with stuffed examples of some of the smaller specimens: a large brown lizard was perched on the huge skull of a bear, so still you would have thought it stuffed as well until it blinked-that first afternoon, the Shienaran Brown asked her to perform an exhaustive set of weaves one after the other. Bennae sat in a high-backed chair on one side of the brown-streaked marble fireplace, Egwene, with decided discomfort, in one on the other. She had not been invited to sit, but neither had Bennae objected.Egwene performed each weave as asked until Bennae casually asked for the weave for Traveling, and then she merely smiled and folded her hands in her lap. The sister leaned back and adjusted her deep brown silk skirts a hair. Bennae's eyes were blue and sharp, her dark hair, caught in a silver net, liberally streaked with gray. Ink stains marked two of her fingers, and another smudged the side of her nose. She held a porcelain cup of tea, but she had not offered any to Egwene."I think there is little of the Power that remains for you to learn, child, especially considering your wonderful discoveries." Egwene inclined her head, accepting the compliment. Some of those things truly were her discoveries, and it hardly mattered now in any case. "But that hardly means you have nothing to learn. You had few novice cla.s.ses before you were. ..." The Brown frowned at Egwene's white dress and cleared her throat. "And fewer lessons as . . . well, later. Tell me if you can, what mistakes did Shein Chunla make that caused the Third War of Garen's Wall? What were the causes of the Great Winter War between Andor and Cairhien? What caused the Weikin Rebellion and how did it end? Most of history seems to be the study of wars, and the important parts of that are how and why they began and how and why ended. A great many wars would never have taken place if people had paid attention to the mistakes others had made. Well?""Shein didn't make any mistakes," Egwene said slowly, "but you're right. I do have a lot to learn. I don't even know the names of those other wars." Rising, she poured herself a cup of tea from the silver pitcher on the side table. Aside from the ropework silver tray, the tabletop held a stuffed lynx and the skull of a serpent. That was as big as a man's skull!Bennae frowned, but not for the tea. She hardly seemed to notice that. "What do you mean Shein didn't make any mistakes, child? Why, she bungled the situation as badly as ever I've heard of.""Well before the Third War of Garen's Wall," Egwene said, returning to her chair, "Shein was doing exactly as the Hall told her and nothing they didn't." She might be lacking in other areas of history, but Siuan had tutored her thoroughly in the mistakes made by other Amyrlins. And this particular question gave her an opening. Sitting down normally took a great effort."What are you talking about?""She tried running the Tower with an iron hand, never a compromise on anything, running roughshod over any opposition. The Hall grew tired of it, but they couldn't settle on a replacement, so rather than deposing her, they did worse. They left her in place and forced a penance on her whenever she tried to issue an order of any kind. Any kind at all." She knew she was going on, sounding as if she were the one giving a lecture, but she had to get it all out. Not easing herself on the hard wood of the chair seat was difficult. Welcome the pain. "The Hall ran Shein and the Tower. But they mishandled a great deal themselves, largely because each Ajah had its own goals and there was no hand to shape them into a goal for the Tower. Shein's reign was marked by wars all over the map. Eventually, the sisters themselves got tired of the Hall's bungling. In one of the six mutinies in Tower history, Shein and the Hall were pulled down. I know she supposedly died in the Tower of natural causes, but, in fact, she was smothered in her bed in exile fifty-one years later after the discovery of a plot to put her back on the Amyrlin Seat.""Mutinies?" Bennae said incredulously. "Six of them? Exiled and smothered?""It's all recorded in the secret histories, in the Thirteenth Depository. Though I suppose I shouldn't have told you that." Egwene took a sip of tea and grimaced. It was all but rancid. No wonder Bennae had not touched hers."Secret histories? A thirteenth Depository? If such a thing existed, and I think I would know, why should you not have told me?""Because by law the existence of the secret histories as well as their contents can be known only to the Amyrlin, the Keeper, and the Sitters. Them and the librarians who keep the records, anyway. Even the law itself is part of the Thirteenth Depository, so I guess I shouldn't have told that either. But if you can gain access somehow, or ask someone who knows and will tell you, you'll find out I'm right. Six times in the history of the Tower, when the Amyrlin was dangerously divisive or dangerously incompetent and the Hall failed to act, sisters have risen up to remove her." There. She could not have planted the seed deeper with a shovel. Or driven it home more bluntly with a hammer.Bennae stared at her for a long moment, then raised the cup to her lips. She spluttered as soon as the tea touched her tongue, and began dabbing at the spots on her dress with a delicate, lace-edged handkerchief. "The Great Winter War," she said huskily as she set the cup on the floor beside her chair, "began late in the year six hundred seventy-one. . . ." She did not mention secret records or mutinies again, but she did not have to. More than once during the lesson she trailed off, frowning at something beyond Egwene, and Egwene had little doubt what it was.Later that day, Lirene Doirellin said, "Yes, Elaida made a vital mistake there," pacing up and down in front of her sitting room's fireplace. The Cairhienin sister was only a little shorter than Egwene, but the nervous way her eyes darted gave her the air of a hunted thing, a sparrow fearful of cats and convinced there were lots of cats in the vicinity. Her dark green skirts had only four discreet slashes of red, though she had been a Sitter once. "That proclamation of hers, on top of trying to kidnap him, could not have been better calculated to keep the al'Thor boy as far from the Tower as he can stay. Oh, she has made mistakes, Elaida has."Egwene wanted to ask about Rand and the kidnapping- kidnapping?-but Lirene left no opening as she went on about Elaida's many mistakes, all the while pacing back and forth, her eyes darting and her hands twisting unconsciously. Egwene was unsure whether or not that session could be called a success, but at least it was not a failure. And she had learned something. Not all of her forays went so well, of course."This is not a discussion," Pritalle Nerbaijan said. Her tone was utterly calm, yet her tilted green eyes were heated. Her rooms looked more those of a Green than a Yellow, with several bared swords hanging on the walls and a silk tapestry showing men fighting Trollocs. She was gripping the hilt of the dagger at her woven silver belt. Not a simple belt knife; a dagger with a blade near a foot long and an emerald capping its pommel. Why she had agreed to lecture Egwene was a mystery, given her dislike of teaching. Perhaps because it was Egwene. "You are here for a lesson on the limits of power. A very basic lesson, suitable for a novice."Egwene wanted to shift on the three-legged stool that Pritalle had given her for a seat, but instead she concentrated on the smarting, focused on drinking it in. On welcoming it. The day had already seen three visits to Silviana, and she could sense a fourth coming, with the midday meal an hour off yet. "I merely said that if Shemerin could be reduced from Aes Sedai to Accepted then Elaida's power has no limits. At least, she thinks it doesn't. But if you accept that, then it really doesn't."Pritalle's grip tightened on the dagger's hilt until her knuckles showed white, yet she seemed unaware. "Since you think you know better than I," she said coolly, "you can visit Silviana when we finish." A partial success, perhaps. Egwene did not think Pritalle's anger was for her."I expect proper behavior out of you," Serancha Colvine told her firmly another day. The word to describe the Gray sister was "pinched." A pinched mouth, and a pinched nose that constantly seemed to be detecting a bad smell. Even her pale blue eyes seemed pinched with disapproval. She might well have been pretty otherwise. "Do you understand?""I understand," Egwene said, sitting down on the stool that had been placed in front of Serancha's high-backed chair. The morning was cool, and a small fire burned on the stone hearth. Drink in the pain. Welcome the pain."An incorrect response," Serancha said. "The correct response would have been a curtsy and 'I understand, Serancha Sedai.' I intend to make a list of your failures for you to carry to Silviana when we're done. We'll begin again. Do you understand, child?""I understand." Egwene said without rising. Aes Sedai serenity or no Aes Sedai serenity, Serancha's face turned purple. In the end, her list covered four pages in a tight, cramped hand. She spent more time writing than she did lecturing! Not a success.And then there was Adelorna Bastine. The Saldaean Green somehow managed stateliness in spite of being slim and no taller than Egwene, and she had a regal, commanding air that might have been intimidating had Egwene let it. "I hear you make trouble." she said, picking up an ivory-backed hairbrush from a small inlaid table beside her chair. "If you try to make trouble with me, you'll learn that I know how to use this."Egwene did learn, without trying. Three times she went across Adelorna's lap, and the woman did indeed know how to use a hairbrush for more than brushing her hair. That managed to stretch an hour lecture to two."May I go now?" Egwene said at last, calmly drying her cheeks as well as she could with a handkerchief that was already damp. Breathe in the pain. Absorb the fire. "I'm supposed to fetch water up for the Red, and I don't want to be late."Adelorna frowned at her hairbrush before returning it to the table that Egwene had overset twice with her kicking. Then she frowned at Egwene, studying her as if trying to see inside her skull. "I wish Cadsuane were in the Tower," she murmured. "I think she'd find you a challenge." There seemed a touch of respect in her voice.That day was a turning point in some ways. For one thing, Silviana decided that Egwene was to receive Healing twice each day."You seem to invite being beaten, child. It's pure stubbornness, and I won't put up with it. You will face reality. The next time you visit me, we'll see how you like the strap." The Mistress of Novices folded Egwene's shift over her back, then paused. "Are you smiling? Did I say something amusing?""I just thought of something funny," Egwene said. "Nothing of consequence." Not of consequence to Silviana, anyway. She had realized how to welcome the pain. She was fighting a war, not a single battle, and every time she was beaten, every time she was sent to Silviana, it was a sign that she had fought another battle and refused to yield. The pain was a badge of honor. She howled and kicked as hard as ever during that slippering, but while she was drying her cheeks afterward, she hummed quietly to herself. It was easy to welcome a badge of honor.Att.i.tudes among the novices began to shift by the second day of her captivity. It seemed that Nicola-and Areina, who was working in the stables and often came to visit Nicola; they seemed so close that Egwene wondered whether they had become pillow-friends, always with their heads together and smiling mysterious smiles- Nicola and Areina had regaled them all with tales of her. Very inflated tales. The two women had made her seem a combination of every legendary sister in the histories, along with Birgitte Silverbow and Amaresu herself, carrying the Sword of the Sun into battle. Half of them seemed in awe of her, the others angry with her for some reason or outright scornful. Foolishly, some tried to emulate her behavior in their cla.s.ses, but a flurry of visits to Silviana quelled that. At the midday meal of the third day, nearly two dozen novices ate standing up and red-faced with embarra.s.sment, Nicola among them. And Alvistere, surprisingly. That number dropped to seven at supper, and on the fourth day, only Nicola and the Cairhienin girl did so. And that was the end of that.She expected some might resent the fact that she continued to refuse to bend while they had been put back on the straight and narrow so quickly, but to the contrary, it only seemed to decrease the number who were angry or scornful and increase the respect. No one tried to become her friend, which was just as well. White dress or no white dress, she was Aes Sedai, and it was improper for an Aes Sedai to befriend a novice. There was too much risk the girl would start feeling above herself and get into trouble for it.Novices began coming to her for advice, for help learning their lessons, though. Only a handful at first, but the number grew day by day. She was willing to help them learn, which was usually just a matter of strengthening a girl's confidence or convincing a young woman that caution was wise, or taking them patiently through the steps of a weave that was giving trouble. Novices were forbidden to channel without an Aes Sedai or Accepted present, though they nearly always did in secret anyway, but she was a sister. She refused to help more than one at a time, however. Word of groups would surely leak out, and she would not be the only one sent to Silviana. She would make that trip as often as necessary, but she did not want to earn it for others. And as for advice. . . . With the novices kept strictly clear of men, advice was easy. Though strains between pillow-friends could be as harsh as anything men ever caused.One evening, returning from yet another session with Silviana, she overheard Nicola talking to two novices who could not have been more than fifteen or sixteen. Egwene hardly remembered being that young. It seemed a lifetime ago. Marah was a stocky Murandian with mischievous blue eyes, Namene a tall, slim Domani who giggled incessantly."Ask the Mother," Nicola said. A few of the novices had taken to calling Egwene that, though never where anyone not wearing white could hear. They were foolish, but not utter fools. "She's always willing to give advice."Namene giggled nervously and wriggled. "I wouldn't want to bother her.""Besides," Marah said, a lilt in her voice, "they say she always gives the same advice, she does.""And good advice it is, too." Nicola held up one hand to tick off fingers. "Obey the Aes Sedai. Obey the Accepted. Work hard. Then work harder."Gliding on toward her room, Egwene smiled. She had been unable to make Nicola behave properly while she was openly Amyrlin, but it seemed she might have succeeded while masquerading as a novice herself. Remarkable.There was one more thing she could do for them: comfort them. Impossible as it seemed at first, the interior of the Tower sometimes changed. People got lost trying to find rooms they had been to dozens of times. Women were seen walking out of walls, or into them, often in dresses of old-fashioned cut, sometimes in bizarre garb, dresses that seemed simply lengths of brightly colored cloth folded around the body, embroidered ankle-length tabards worn over wide trousers, stranger things still. Light, when could any woman have wanted to wear a dress that left her bosom completely exposed?Egwene was able to discuss it with Siuan in Tel'aran'rhiod, so she knew that these things were signs of the approach of Tarmon Gai'don. An unpleasant thought, yet there was nothing to be done about it. What was, was, and it was not as if Rand himself was not a herald of the Last Battle. Some of the sisters in the Tower must have known what it all meant, too, but wrapped up in their own affairs they made no effort to comfort novices who were weeping with fright. Egwene did."The world is full of strange wonders," she told Coride, a pale-haired girl who was sobbing facedown on her bed. Only a year younger than herself, Coride was most definitely still a girl despite a year and a half in the Tower. "Why be surprised if some of those wonders appear in the White Tower? What better place?" She never mentioned the Last Battle to these girls. That was hardly likely to be any comfort."But she walked into a wall!" Coride wailed, raising her head. Her face was red and blotchy, and her cheeks glistened damply. "A wall! And then none of us could find the cla.s.sroom, and Pedra couldn't either, and she got cross with us. Pedra never gets cross. She was frightened, too!""I'll wager Pedra didn't start crying, though." Egwene sat down on the edge of the girl's bed, and was pleased that she did not wince. Novice mattresses were not noted for softness. "The dead can't harm the living, Coride. They can't touch us. They don't even seem to see us. Besides, they were initiates of the Tower or else servants here. This was their home as much as it is ours. And as for rooms or hallways not being where they're supposed to be, just remember that the Tower is a place of wonders. Remember that, and they won't frighten you."It seemed feeble to her, but Coride wiped her eyes and swore she would never be frightened again. Unfortunately, there were a hundred and two like her, not all so easily comforted. It was enough to make Egwene angrier at the sisters in the Tower than she already had been.Her days were not all lessons and comforting novices and being punished by the Mistress of Novices, though the last did take up an unfortunate amount of each day. Silviana had been right to doubt that she would have much free time. Novices were always given ch.o.r.es. Often it was make-work, since the Tower had well over a thousand serving men and women without counting laborers, but physical work helped build character, so the Tower had always believed. Plus, it helped keep the novices too tired to think of men, supposedly. She was loaded down with ch.o.r.es beyond what the novices were given, though. Some were a.s.signed by sisters who considered her a runaway, others by Silviana in the hope that weariness would dull the edge of her "rebellion."Daily, after one meal or another, she scrubbed dirty pots with coa.r.s.e salt and a stiff brush in the workroom off the main kitchen. From time to time Laras would put her head in, but she never spoke. And she never used her long spoon, even when Egwene was ma.s.saging the small of her back, aching from being head-down in a large kettle, rather than scrubbing. Laras dealt out smacks aplenty to scullions and undercooks who tried to play pranks on Egwene, as was customary with novices sent to work in the kitchen. Supposedly that was just because, as she announced loudly every time she gave a thwack, they had plenty of time to play when they were not supposed to be working, but Egwene noticed that Laras was not so quick when someone goosed one of the true novices or tipped a cup of cold water down the back of her neck. It seemed she did have an ally of sorts. If she could only figure out how to make use of her.She hauled water in buckets hanging from the ends of a pole balanced across her shoulders, to the kitchen, to the novices' quarters, to the Accepted's quarters, all the way up to the Ajah's quarters. She carried meals to sisters in their rooms, raked garden paths, pulled weeds, ran errands for sisters, attended Sitters, swept floors, mopped floors, scrubbed floors on her hands and knees, and that was only a partial list. She never shirked at these tasks, and only in part because she would not give anyone an excuse to call her lazy. In a way, she viewed them as penance for not having prepared properly before turning the harbor chain to cuendillar. Penances were to be borne with dignity. As much dignity as anyone can have while scrubbing a floor, anyway.Besides, visiting the Accepted's quarters gave her a chance to see how they viewed her. There were thirty-one in the Tower, but at any given time some were teaching novices and others taking lessons of their own, so she seldom found more than ten or twelve in their rooms around the nine-tiered well surrounding a small garden. Word of her arrival always spread quickly, though, and she never lacked an audience.At first, many of them tried to overwhelm her with orders, especially Mair, a plump blue-eyed Arafellin, and a.s.seil, a slim Tarab.o.n.e.r with pale hair and brown eyes. They had been novices when she came to the Tower, and already jealous of her quick rise to Accepted when she left. With them, every second sentence was fetch that, or carry this there. For all of them she was the "novice" who had caused so much difficulty, the "novice" who thought she was the Amyrlin Seat. She carried pails of water till her back ached, uncomplaining, yet she refused to obey their commands. Which earned her more visits to the Mistress of Novices, of course. As the days pa.s.sed, as her continual trips to Silviana's study showed no effect, however, that flow of commands dwindled and finally ceased. Even a.s.seil and Mair had not really been trying to be mean, only to behave as they thought they should in the circ.u.mstances, and they were at a loss as to what to do with her.Some of the Accepted showed signs of fright at the dead walking and the interior of the Tower changing, and whenever she saw a bloodless face or teary eyes she would say the same things she told the novices. Not addressing the woman directly, which might have gotten her back up rather than soothing her, but as if talking to herself. It worked as well with Accepted as with novices. Many gave a start when she began, or opened their mouths as though to tell her to be quiet, yet none did, and she always left a thoughtful expression behind. The Accepted continued to come out onto the stone-railed galleries when she entered, but they watched her in silence as though wondering what she was. Eventually she would teach them what she was. Them and the sisters. too.Attending Sitters and sisters, a woman in white standing quietly in the corner quickly became part of the furniture even when she was notorious. If they noticed her, they changed their conversation, yet she overheard many snippets, often of plots to avenge some slight given or wrong done by another Ajah. Oddly, most of the sisters seemed to see the other Ajahs inside the Tower as more their enemies than they did the sisters in the camp outside the city, and the Sitters were not much better. It made her want to slap them. True, it boded well for relations when the other sisters returned to the Tower, but still. . . .She did pick up other things. The unbelievable disaster that had befallen an expedition sent against the Black Tower. Some of the sisters seemed not to believe it, yet they appeared to be trying to convince themselves it could not have happened. More sisters captured after a great battle and somehow forced to swear fealty to Rand. She had already had inklings of that, and she could not like it any more than she did sisters being bonded by Asha'man. Being ta'veren or the Dragon Reborn was no excuse. No Aes Sedai had ever before sworn fealty to any man. The sisters and Sitters argued over who was to blame, with Rand and the Asha'man at the head of the list. But one name came up again and again. Elaida do Avriny a'Roihan. They talked of Rand, too, of how to find him before Tarmon Gai'don. They knew it was coming despite their failure to console the novices and Accepted, and they were desperate to lay hands on him.Sometimes she risked a comment, a mention of Shemerin being stripped of the shawl against all custom, a suggestion that Elaida's edict regarding Rand was the best way in the world to make him dig in his heels. She offered sympathy for the sisters captured by the Asha'man, for those taken at Dumai's Wells-with Elaida's name dropped in-or regretted the neglect that saw garbage rotting in the once pristine streets of Tar Valon. There was no need to mention Elaida there; they knew who was responsible for Tar Valon. At times, those comments earned her still more trips to Silviana's study, and more ch.o.r.es besides, yet surprisingly often they did not. She made careful note of the sisters who merely told her to be quiet. Or better still, said nothing. Some even nodded agreement before they caught themselves. Some of those ch.o.r.es led to interesting encounters.On the morning of her second day she was using a long-handled bamboo rake to fish detritus from the ponds of the Water Garden. There had been a rainstorm the night before, and the heavy winds had deposited leaves and gra.s.ses in the ponds among the bright green lily pads and budding water irises, and even a dead sparrow that she calmly buried in one of the flower beds. A pair of Reds stood on one of the arching pond bridges, leaning on the lacy stone railing and watching her and the fish swirling below them in a flurry of red and gold and white. A half-dozen crows burst up out of one of the leatherleafs and silently winged their way north. Crows! The Tower grounds were supposed to be warded against crows and ravens. The Reds did not seem to have noticed.She was squatting on her heels beside one of the ponds, washing the dirt from her hands after burying that pitiful bird, when Alviarin appeared, her white-fringed shawl wrapped tightly around her as if the morning were still windy rather than bright and fair. This was the third time she had seen Alviarin, and every time she had been alone rather than in company with other Whites. She had seen cl.u.s.ters of Whites in the hallways, though. Was there a clue in that? If so, she could not imagine to what, unless Alviarin was being shunned by her own Ajah for some reason. Surely the rot had not gone that deep.Eyeing the Reds, Alviarin approached Egwene along the coa.r.s.e gravel path that wound among the ponds. "You have fallen far," she said when she was close. "You must feel it keenly."Egwene straightened and blotted her hands on her skirt, then picked up the rake. "I'm not the only one." She had had another session with Silviana before dawn, and when she left the woman's study, Alviarin had been waiting to go in again. That was a daily ritual for the White, and the talk of the novices' quarters, with every tongue speculating on the why of it. "My mother always says, don't weep over what can't be mended. It seems good advice under the circ.u.mstances."Faint spots of color appeared in Alviarin's cheeks. "But you seem to be weeping a good deal. Endlessly, by all reports. Surely you would escape that if you could."Egwene caught another oak leaf on the broom and brushed it off into the wooden pail of damp leaves at her feet. "Your loyalty to Elaida isn't very strong, is it?""Why do you say that?" Alviarin said suspiciously. Glancing at the two Reds, who appeared to be paying more mind now to the fish than Egwene, she stepped closer, inviting lowered voices.Egwene fished at a long strand of gra.s.s that had to have come all the way from the plains beyond the river. Should she mention the letter this woman had written to Rand practically promising him the White Tower at his feet? No, that piece of information might prove valuable, but it seemed the sort of thing that could only be used once. "She stripped you of the Keeper's stole and ordered your penance. That's hardly an inducement to loyalty."Alviarin's face remained smooth, yet her shoulders relaxed visibly. Aes Sedai seldom showed so much. She must feel under phenomenal strain to be so little in control of herself. She darted a look at the Reds again. "Think on your situation," she said in near a whisper. "If you want an escape from it, well, you may be able to find one.""I am content with my situation," Egwene said simply.Alviarin's eyebrows quirked upward in disbelief, but with another glance at the Reds-one was watching them now rather than the fish- she glided away, a very fast glide on the verge of breaking into a trot.Every two or three days she would appear while Egwene was doing ch.o.r.es, and while she never openly offered help with an escape, she used that word frequently, and she began to show frustration when Egwene refused to rise to her bait. Bait it was, to be sure. Egwene did not trust the woman. Perhaps it was that letter, surely designed to draw Rand to the Tower and into Elaida's clutches, or maybe it was the way she kept waiting for Egwene to make the first move, to beg possibly. Likely Alviarin would try to set conditions, then. In any case, she had no intention of escaping unless there was no other choice, so she always gave the same response. "I am content with my situation." Alviarin began grinding her teeth audibly when she heard that.On the fourth day, she was on her hands and knees scrubbing blue-and-white floor tiles when the boots of three men accompanied by a sister in elaborately red-embroidered gray silk pa.s.sed her. A few paces on, the boots stopped."That be her," a man's voice said in the accents of Illian. "She did be pointed out to me. I think me I will speak to her.""She's only another novice, Mattin Stepaneos," the sister told him. "You wanted to walk in the gardens." Egwene dipped her scrub brush in the bucket of soapy water and began another stretch of tiles."Fortune stab me. Cariandre, this may be the White Tower, but I do still be the lawful King of Illian, and if I want to speak to her-with you for chaperone; all very proper and decent-then I will speak with her. I did be told she did grow up in the same village with al'Thor." One set of boots, blacked till they glistened, approached Egwene.Only then did she stand, the dripping brush in one hand. She used the back of the other to brush her hair out of her face. She refrained from knuckling the small of her back, much as she wanted to.Mattin Stepaneos was stocky and almost entirely bald, with a neatly trimmed white beard in the Illianer fashion and a heavily creased face. His eyes were sharp, and angry. Armor would have suited him better than the green silk coat embroidered with golden bees on the sleeves and lapels. "Just another novice?" he murmured. "I think you be mistaken, Cariandre."The plump Red, her lips compressed, left the two serving men with the Flame of Tar Valon on their chests and joined the balding man. Her disapproving gaze touched Egwene briefly before shifting to him. "She's a much-punished novice who has a floor to scrub. Come. The gardens should be very pleasant this morning.""What be pleasant," he said, "do be talking to someone other than Aes Sedai. And only of the Red Ajah at that, since you do manage to keep me from any others. On top of which, the servants you did give me might as well be mutes, and I think me the Tower Guards do have orders to hold their tongues around me as well."He fell silent as two more Red sisters approached. Nesita, plump and blue eyed and mean as a snake with the itch, nodded companionably to Cariandre while Barasine handed Egwene the by now all too familiar pewter cup. The Red seemed to have custody of her in a way-at least, her watchers and minders were always Reds-and they seldom let much more than the promised hour pa.s.s before someone appeared with the cup of forkroot tea. She drained it and handed it back. Nesita seemed disappointed that she did not protest or refuse, but there seemed little point. She had, once, and Nesita had helped pour the vile stuff down her throat using a funnel she had ready in her belt pouch. That would have been a fine show of dignity in front of Mattin Stepaneos.He watched the silent exchange with puzzled interest, though Cariandre plucked at his sleeve, urging him again to his walk in the gardens. "Sisters bring you water when you thirst?" he asked when Barasine and Nesita glided away."A tea they think will improve my mood," she told him. "You look well, Mattin Stepaneos. For a man Elaida had kidnapped." That tale was the talk of the novices' quarters, too.Cariandre hissed and opened her mouth, but he spoke up first, his jaw tight. "Elaida did save me from murder by al'Thor," he said. The Red nodded approvingly."Why would you think yourself in danger from him?" Egwene asked.The man grunted. "He did murder Morgase in Caemlyn, and Colavaere in Cairhien. He destroyed half the Sun Palace killing her, I did hear. And I did hear of Tairen High Lords poisoned or stabbed to death in Cairhien. Who can say what other rulers he did murder and destroy the bodies?" Cariandre nodded again, smiling. You might have thought him a boy reciting his lessons. Did the woman have no understanding of men? He certainly saw it. His jaw grew harder still, and his hands clenched into fists for a moment."Colavaere hanged herself," Egwene said, making sure she sounded patient. "The Sun Palace was damaged later by someone trying to kill the Dragon Reborn, maybe the Forsaken, and according to Elayne Trakand, her mother was murdered by Rahvin. Rand has announced his support for her claims to both the Lion Throne and the Sun Throne. He hasn't killed any of the Cairhienin n.o.bles rebelling against him, or the High Lords in rebellion. In fact, he named one of them his Steward in Tear.""I think that is quite-" Cariandre began, pulling her shawl up onto her shoulders, but Egwene went on right over her."Any sister could have told you all that. If she wanted to. If they were speaking to one another. Think why you see only Red sisters. Have you seen sisters of any two Ajahs speaking? You've been kidnapped and brought aboard a sinking ship.""That is more than enough," Cariandre snapped right atop Egwene's last sentence. "When you finish scrubbing this floor, you will run to the Mistress of Novices and ask her to punish you for shirking. And for showing disrespect to an Aes Sedai."Egwene met the woman's furious gaze calmly. "I have barely enough time after I finish to get clean before my lesson with Kiyoshi. Could I visit Silviana after the lesson?"Cariandre shifted her shawl, seemingly taken aback by her calmness. "That is a problem for you to work out," she said at last. "Come, Mattin Stepaneos. You have helped this child shirk long enough."There was no time to change out of her damp dress or even comb her hair after leaving Silviana's study, not if she were to have any hope of being on time for Kiyoshi without running, which she refused to do. That made her late, and it turned out that the tall, slender Gray was a stickler for both punctuality and neatness, which put her back yelping and kicking under Silviana's hard-swung strap little more than an hour later.Quite aside from embracing pain, something else helped see her through that. The memory of Mattin Stepaneos' thoughtful expression as Cariandre led him off down the corridor and how he twice looked back over his shoulder at her. She had planted another seed. Enough seeds planted, and perhaps what sprouted from them would splinter those cracks in the platform beneath Elaida. Enough seeds would bring Elaida down.Early on her seventh day of captivity, she was carrying water up the Tower again, to the White Ajah quarters this time, when she suddenly stopped in her tracks feeling as if she had been punched in her stomach hard. Two women in gray-fringed shawls were walking down the spiraling corridor toward her, trailed by a pair of Warders. One was Melavaire Someinellin, a stout Cairhienin in fine gray wool with white flecking her dark hair. The other, with blue eyes and dark honey hair, was Beonin!"So you're the one who betrayed me!" Egwene said angrily. A thought occurred to her. How could Beonin have betrayed her after swearing fealty? "You must be Black Ajah!"Melavaire drew herself up as much as she could, which was not very far since she was inches shorter than Egwene, and planted her fists on her ample hips as she opened her mouth to deliver a