Towers of Midnight

17 Partings, and a Meeting

The morning after the gholam attack, Mat woke from dreams rotten as last month’s eggs, feeling stiff and aching. He had spent the night sleeping in a hollow he’d found beneath Aludra’s supply wagon. He had chosen the location by random chance, using his dice.

He climbed out from under the wagon, standing and rolling his shoulder, feeling it pop. Bloody ashes. One of the best things about having money was not having to sleep in ditches. There were beggars who spent nights better than this.

The wagon smelled of sulphur and powders. He was tempted to peek under the oiled tarp that stretched over the back of, but there would be no point. Aludra and her powders were incomprehensible. So long as the dragons performed, Mat did not mind not knowing how they worked. Well, he did not mind it much. Not enough to risk irritating her.

She was not there at the wagon, fortunately for Mat. She would complain at him again for not having gotten her a bellfounder. She seemed to think him her own personal messenger boy. An unruly one, who refused to do his job properly. Most women had moments like that.

He walked through camp, brushing bits of straw from his hair. He almost went searching for Lopin to have him draw a bath, until he remembered that Lopin was dead. Bloody ashes! Poor man.

Thinking about poor Lopin put Mat in an even more dour mood as he walked toward where he’d find some breakfast. Juilin found him first. The short Tairen thief-catcher wore his flat-topped conical hat and dark blue “Mat,” he said. “Is it true? You’ve given permission for the Aes Sedai to go back to the Tower?”

“They didn’t need my permission,” Mat said, wincing. If the women heard it said that way, they would tan his hide and make saddle leather from it. “I’m planning to give them horses, though.”

“They have them already,” Juilin said, looking in the direction of the picket lines. “Said you gave them permission.”

Mat sighed. His stomach growled, but food would have to wait. He walked toward the picket lines; he would need to make sure the Aes Sedai did not make off with his best stock.

“I’ve been thinking I might go with them,” Juilin said, joining Mat. “Take Thera to Tar Valon.”

“You’re welcome to leave any time,” Mat said. “I won’t hold you here.” Juilin was a good enough fellow. A little stiff at times. Well, very stiff. Juilin could make a Whitecloak look relaxed. He was not the type you wanted to take with you dicing; he would spend the night scowling at everyone in the tavern and muttering about the crimes they had certainly committed. But he was reliable, and a good hand to have in a pinch.

“I want to get back to Tear,” Juilin said. “But the Seanchan would be so close, and Thera… It worries her. She doesn’t much like the idea of Tar Valon either, but we don’t have many choices, and the Aes Sedai promised that if I came with them, they’d get me work in Tar Valon.”

“So, this is parting, then?” Mat said, stopping and turning to him.

“For now,” Juilin said. He hesitated, then held out his hand. Mat took it and shook, and then the thief-catcher was off to gather his things and his woman.

Mat thought for a moment, then changed his mind and headed for the cook tent. Juilin would slow the Aes Sedai, probably, and he wanted to fetch something.

A short time later, he arrived at the picket lines fed and carrying a cloth-wrapped bundle under his arm. The Aes Sedai had, of course, created an inordinately large caravan out of some of his best horses. Teslyn and Joline also seemed to have decided they could commandeer some pack animals and some soldiers to do the loading. Mat sighed and walked into the mess, checking over the horses.

Joline sat on Moonglow, a mare of Tairen stock that had belonged to one of the men Mat had lost in the fighting to escape the Seanchan. The more reserved Edesina had mounted Firewisp, and was glancing occasionally at two women who stood to the side. Dark-skinned Bethamin and pale, yellow-haired Seta were former sul’dam.

The Seanchan women tried very hard to look aloof as the group gathered. Mat sauntered up to them.

“Highness,” Seta said, “it is true? You’re going to allow these to roam free of you?”

“Best to be rid of them,” Mat said, wincing at her choice of titles for him. Did they have to throw around such words that like they were wooden pennies? Anyway, the two Seanchan women had changed a great deal since beginning with the group, but they still seemed to find it odd that Mat did not wish to use the Aes Sedai as weapons. “Do you want to go, or do you want to stay?”

“We will go,” Bethamin said firmly. She was determined to learn, it seemed,

“Yes,” Seta said, “though I sometimes think it might be better to simply let us die, as opposed to… Well, what we are, what we represent, means that we are a danger to the Empire.”

Mat nodded. “Tuon is a sul’dam,” he said.

The two women looked down.

“Go with the Aes Sedai,” Mat said. “I’ll give you your own horses, so you don’t have to rely on them. Learn to channel. That’ll be more use than dying. Maybe someday you two can convince Tuon of the truth. Help me find a way to fix this without causing the Empire to collapse.”

The two women looked to him, more firm and confident, suddenly. “Yes, Highness,” Bethamin said. “It is a good purpose for us to have. Thank you, Highness.”

Seta actually got tears in her eyes! Light, what did they think he had just promised them? Mat retreated before they could get any more odd ideas in their heads. Flaming women. Still, he could not help feeling sorry for them. Learning that they could channel, worrying they might be a danger to everyone around them.

That’s bow Rand felt, Mat thought. Poor fool. As always, the colors swirled when he thought of Rand. He tried not to do it too often, and before he could banish those colors, he caught a glimpse of Rand shaving in a fine, gilded mirror hanging in a beautiful bathing chamber.

Mat gave some orders to get the sul’dam horses, then he walked over toward the Aes Sedai. Thom had arrived and he strolled over. “Light, Mat,” he said. “You look like you tangled with a briarstitch patch and came out sore.

Mat raised a hand to his hair, which was probably a real sight. “I lived the night, and the Aes Sedai are leaving. I’ve half a mind to dance a jig at that.”

Thom snorted. “Did you know those two were going to be here?”

“The sul’dam? I figured.”

“No, those two.” He pointed.

Mat turned, frowning as he found Leilwin and Bayle Domon riding. Their possessions were rolled up on the backs of their horses. Leilwin—then known as Egeanin—had once been a Seanchan noblewoman, but Tuon had stripped her name away. She wore a dress with divided skirts of muted gray. Her short dark hair had grown out, and hung over her ears.

She climbed from her saddle and stalked in Mat’s direction.

“Burn me,” Mat said to Thom, “if I can be rid of her, too, I’ll almost start thinking that life has turned fair on me.”

Domon followed her as they approached. He was her so’jhin. Or… could he still be so’jhin, now that she had no title? Well, either way, he was her husband. The Illianer was thick of girth, and strong. He was not too bad a fellow, except when he was around Leilwin. Which was always.

“Cauthon,” she said, stepping up to him.

“Leilwin,” he replied. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes.”

Mat smiled. He really was going to do that dance!

“I always intended to make my way to the White Tower,” she continued. “I set my mind there on the day I left Ebou Dar. If the Aes Sedai are leaving, I will go with them. A ship is always wise to join a convoy, when the right opportunity is presented.”

“Too bad to see you go,” Mat lied, tipping his hat to her. Leilwin was as tough as a hundred-year oak stuck with bits of axe left over from the men foolish enough to try to chop it down. If her horse threw a shoe on the road to Tar Valon, she would likely sling the animal over her shoulder and carry it the rest of the way.

But she did not like Mat, for all he had done to save her skin. Maybe it was because he had not let her take charge, or maybe because she had been forced act like his lover. Well, he had not enjoyed that part either. It had been like holding a sword by the blade and pretending that it did not sting.

Though it had been fun to watch her squirm.

“Be well, Matrim Cauthon,” Leilwin said. “I don’t envy the place you’ve put yourself in. In some ways, I think the winds that carry you may actually be rougher than the ones which have buffeted me, recently.” She nodded to him, then turned to go.

Domon reached over, laying a hand on Mat’s arm. “You did do as you said. By my aged grandmother! You gave a bumpy ride of it, but you did do as you said. My thanks.”

The two of them moved off. Mat shook his head, waving to Thom and strolling over to the Aes Sedai. “Teslyn,” Mat said. “Edesina. Joline. All’ well?”

“It is,” Joline said.

“Good, good,” Mat said. “You have sufficient pack animals?”

“They will do, Master Cauthon,” Joline said. Then, covering a wince she added, “Thank you for giving them to us.”

Mat smiled broadly. My, but it was amusing to hear her trying to act respectful! She had obviously expected Elayne to welcome her and the others with open arms, not turn them away from the palace without an audience.

Joline eyed Mat, lush lips pressed together. “I would liked to have tamed you, Cauthon,” she said. “I’ve still half a mind to return someday and see the job done properly.”

“I’ll wait breathlessly for that, then,” he said, taking the cloth-wrapped package from under his arm. He handed it up to her.

“What is this?” she asked, not reaching for it.

Mat shook the bundle. “Parting gift,” he said. “Where I come from, you never let a traveler depart without giving her something for the road. It would be rude.”

Reluctantly, she accepted it and peeked inside. She was obviously surprised to find that it contained a collection of about a dozen powdered sweetbuns. “Thank you,” she said, frowning.

“I’m sending soldiers with you,” Mat said. “They’ll bring my horses back once you arrive in Tar Valon.”

Joline opened her mouth as if to complain, but then closed it. What argument could she make?

“That will be acceptable, Cauthon,” Teslyn said, moving her black gelding closer.

“I’ll give them orders to do as you say,” Mat said, turning to her. “So you’ll have people to command about and make set up your tents. But there’s a condition attached.”

Teslyn raised an eyebrow.

“I want you to tell the Amyrlin something,” he said. “If it’s Egwene, this should be easy. But even if it isn’t, you tell her. The White Tower has something of mine, and it’s nearly time that I reclaimed it. I don’t want to, but what I want never seems to matter a whisker, these days. So I’ll be coming, and I don’t mean to be bloody turned away.” He smiled. “Use that exact language.”

Teslyn, to her credit, chuckled softly. “I’ll see it done, though I doubt rumors are true. Elaida would not have given up the Amyrlin Seat.”

“You might be surprised.” Mat surely had been, when he had discovered women calling Egwene Amyrlin. He did not know what had happened up at the White Tower, but he had a sinking feeling that the Aes Sedai had wrapped poor Egwene up in their schemes so soundly that she would never escape. He had half a mind to ride up there himself and see if he could get her out. But he had other tasks. Egwene would have to see to herself for now. She was a capable girl; she could probably handle it without him for a while.

Thom stood to his side, looking thoughtful. He did not know for sure that Mat had blown the Horn—at least, Mat had never told him. He tried to forget about the bloody thing. But Thom had probably guessed.

“Well, I suppose you should be going,” Mat said. “Where’s Setalle?”

“She’ll be staying here,” Teslyn said. “She said that she wanted to keep you from making too many missteps.” She raised an eyebrow, and Joline and Edesina nodded sagaciously. They all assumed that Setalle was a former runaway servant from the White Tower, perhaps having fled as a girl because of a misdeed.

Well, that meant he wouldn’t be rid of the entire group. Still, if he had to pick one to stay, it would be Mistress Anan. She would probably be wanting to find a way to meet up with her husband and family, who had fled Ebou Dar by ship.

Juilin walked up, leading Thera. Had that frightened wisp of a woman really been the Panarch of Tarabon? Mat had seen mice that were less timid. Mat’s soldiers brought out horses for the two of them. All in all, this expedition was costing him some forty animals and a file of soldiers. But it would be worth it. Besides, he intended to retrieve both men and horses—along with information about what was really happening in Tar Valon.

He nodded to Vanin. The thick-waisted horse thief had not been too pleased when Mat had ordered him to go along to Tar Valon and gather information. Mat had figured he would be ecstatic, considering how he doted on the Aes Sedai. Well, he would be even less happy when he found Juilin was along; Vanin tended to step lightly around the thief-catcher.

Vanin mounted a bay gelding. As far as the Aes Sedai knew, he was a senior Redarm and one of Mat’s field scouts, but nobody to be suspicious of. He did not look very threatening, except maybe as a danger to a bowl of boiled potatoes. That might be why he was so good at what he did. Mat did not need any horses stolen, but Vanin’s talents could be applied to other tasks.

“Well,” Mat said, turning back to the Aes Sedai, “I won’t keep you further, then.” He stepped back, avoiding looking at Joline—who had a predatory cast to her eyes that reminded him all too much of Tylin. Teslyn waved and, curiously, Edesina nodded to him in respect. Juilin had a wave for him and Thom, and Mat got a nod from Leilwin. The woman chewed rocks for breakfast and nails for supper, but she was fair. Maybe he could talk to Tuon, get her reinstated or something.

Don’t be a fool, he thought, giving a wave to Bayle Domon. First you’ll need to convince Tuon not to make you da’covale. He was half convinced she intended to see him as her servant, husband or not. Thinking about that made him sweat around the collar.

Before long, they were making dust along the road. Thom stepped up beside Mat, watching the riders. “Sweetbuns?”

“Tradition among us Two Rivers folk.”

“Never heard of that tradition.”

“It’s very obscure.”

“Ah, I see. And what did you do to those buns?”

“Sprinklewort,” Mat said. “It’ll turn her mouth blue for a week, maybe two. And she won’t share the sweetbuns with anyone, except maybe her Warders. Joline is addicted to the things. She must have eaten seven or eight bags’ worth since we got to Caemlyn.”

“Nice,” Thom said, knuckling his mustache. “Childish, though.”

“I’m trying to get back to my basic roots,” Mat said. “You know, recapture some of my lost youth.”

“You’re barely twenty winters old!”

“Sure, but I did a lot of living when I was younger. Come on. Mistress Anan is staying, and that gives me an idea.”

“You need a shave, Matrim Cauthon.” Mistress Anan folded her arms as she regarded him.

He reached up, touching his face. Lopin had always done that, each morning. The man got as sulky as a dog in the rain when Mat did not let him do such things, though lately Mat had been growing out his beard to avoid notice. It still itched like a week-old scab.

He had found Setalle at the supply tents, overseeing the midday meal. Soldiers from the Band hunkered down, chopping vegetables and stewing beans with the furtive expression of men who had been given firm instructions. Setalle was not needed here; the Band’s cooks had always been able to prepare meals without her. But there was nothing a woman liked better than finding men who were relaxing, then giving them orders. Besides, Setalle was a former innkeeper and—remarkably—a former Aes Sedai. Mat often found her supervising things that did not need supervising.

Not for the first time, he wished Tuon were still traveling with him. Setalle had usually taken Tuon’s side, but staying with the Daughter of the Nine Moons had often kept her busy. Nothing was more dangerous for the sanity of men than a woman with too much time on her hands.

Setalle still wore clothing of the Ebou Dari style, which Mat found pleasant, considering the plunging neckline. That kind of outfit worked particularly well on a woman as buxom as Setalle. Not that he noticed. She had golden hoops in her ears, a stately demeanor and gray in her hair. The jeweled wedding knife worn around her neck seemed something of a warning, the way it nestled in her cleavage. Not that Mat noticed that, either.

“I’ve been growing the beard intentionally,” Mat said to her statement. “I want to—”

“Your coat is dirty,” she said, nodding to a soldier who brought her some onions he had peeled. He sheepishly poured them into a pot, not looking at Mat. “And your hair a mess. You look like you’ve been in a brawl, and it’s not yet noon.”

“I’m fine,” Mat said. “I’ll clean up later. You didn’t go with the Aes Sedai.”

“Each step toward Tar Valon would take me farther from where I need to be. I need to send word to my husband. When we parted, I didn’t suspect that I’d end up in Andor of all places.”

“I’m thinking I might be getting access to someone who can make gateways here soon,” Mat said. “And I…” He frowned as another group of soldiers approached, carrying a few undersized quail they’d hunted. The soldiers looked ashamed of the terrible catch.

Setalle ordered them to pluck the birds without so much as a glance toward Mat. Light, he needed to get her out of his camp. Things would not be normal here until they were all gone.

“Don’t look at me like that, Lord Mat,” Setalle said. “Noram went into the city to see what kind of provisions he could find. I’ve noted that without the cook himself here to prod the men, meals don’t get done at any reasonable speed. Not all of us like to take lunch when the sun is setting.”

“I didn’t say a thing,” Mat said, keeping his voice even. He nodded to the side. “Can we talk for a moment?”

Setalle hesitated, then nodded and stepped away from the others with him. “What’s going on really?” she said softly. “You look like you slept under a hay pile.”

“I slept under a wagon, actually. And my tent’s stained with blood. Not really looking forward to going there to change clothing right now.”

Her gaze softened. “I understand your loss. But that’s no excuse to go around looking like you’ve been living in an alleyway. You’ll need to hire another serving man.”

Mat scowled. “I never needed one in the first place. I can take care of myself. Look, I have a favor to ask of you. I want you to watch after Olver for a little while.”

“For what purpose?”

“That thing might come back,” Mat said. “And it could try to hurt him. Besides, I’m going to be leaving with Thom shortly. I might be back, I should be back. But if I don’t, I… Well, I would rather he not be left alone.”

She studied him. “He would not be alone. The men in camp seem to have a great deal of fondness for the child.”

“Sure, but I don’t like the things they’re teaching him. The boy needs better examples than that lot.”

She seemed amused by that for some reason. “I’ve already begun instructing the child in letters. I suppose I can watch after him for a time, if need be.”

“Great. Wonderful.” Mat let out a relieved sigh. Women were always happy for a chance to educate a boy when he was young; Mat thought they assumed they could educate him out of becoming a man if they tried hard enough. “I’ll give you some money. You can go into the city and find an inn.”

“I’ve been into the city,” Setalle said. “Every inn in the place seems packed to the walls already.”

“I’ll find a place for you,” Mat promised. “Just keep Olver safe. When the time comes, and I have someone to make gateways, I’ll have them send you to Illian so you can find your husband.”

“A deal,” Setalle said. She hesitated, glancing northward. “The… others are gone, then?”

“Yes.” Good riddance.

She nodded, looking regretful. Maybe she had not been ordering his men about for lunch because she had been offended at seeing them relax. Maybe she had been looking for something to busy herself at.

“I’m sorry,” Mat said. “About whatever happened to you.”

“The past is gone,” she replied. “And I need to leave it be. I should never have even asked to see the item you wear. These last few weeks have made me forget myself.”

Mat nodded, parting with her, then went searching for Olver. And after that, he really should get around to changing his coat. And burn him, he was going to shave, too. The men looking for him could bloody kill him if they wanted. A slit throat would be better than this itching.

Elayne strolled through the palace’s Sunrise Garden. This smaller garden had always been a favored location of her mother’s, set atop the roof of the lace’s eastern wing. It was rimmed by an oval of white stonework, with a larger, curved wall at the back.

Elayne had a full view of the city below. In earlier years, she had liked the lower gardens precisely because they were a retreat. It was in those gardens that she had first met Rand. She pressed a hand to her belly. Though she felt enormous, the pregnancy was only just beginning to show. Unfortunately, she’d had to commission an entirely new set of gowns. She would probably have to do so again in the coming months. What a bother.

Elayne continued to walk the roof garden. Pink jumpups and white morningstars bloomed in planters. The blossoms weren’t nearly as large as they should have been, and already they were wilting. The gardeners complained that nothing helped. Outside the city, grass and weeds were dying in swaths, and the patchwork quilt of fields and crops looked depressingly brown. It is coming, Elayne thought. She continued on her way, walking a path made of springy grass, manicured and kept short. The gardeners’ efforts weren’t without some results. The grass here was mostly green, and the air smelled of the roses that wove their way up the sides of the wall. Those had brown spots on them, but they had bloomed.

A tinkling stream ran through the middle of the garden, lined in carefully placed river stones. That stream ran only when she visited; water had to be carried up to the cistern.

Elayne paused at another vantage point. A Queen couldn’t choose seclusion the way a Daughter-Heir could. Birgitte walked up beside her. She raided her arms across her red-coated chest, eyeing Elayne. “What?” Elayne asked.

“You’re in full view,” Birgitte said. “Anyone down there with a bow and a good eye could throw the nation right back into a Succession war.”

Elayne rolled her eyes. “I’m safe, Birgitte. Nothing will happen to me.” Oh, well, I apologize,” Birgitte said flatly. “The Forsaken are loose and angry with you, the Black Ajah are undoubtedly furious that you’ve captured their agents, and you’ve humiliated various nobles who tried to seize the throne from you. Obviously you’re in no danger whatsoever. I’ll run along and take lunch, then.”

“You might as well,” Elayne snapped. “Because I am safe. Min had a viewing. My babes will be born healthy. Min is never wrong, Birgitte.”

“Min said your babies would be strong and healthy,” Birgitte said. “Not that you would be healthy when they arrived.”

“How else would they come?”

“I’ve seen people knocked in the head so hard that they’re never the same, girl,” Birgitte said. “Some live for years, but never speak another word and have to be fed broth and live with a bedpan. You could lose an arm or two and still bear healthy children. And what about the people around you? Give you no thought to the danger you could cause them?”

“I feel bad for Vandene and Sareitha,” Elayne said. “And for those men who died to rescue me. Don’t dare imply that I feel no responsibility for them! But a queen must be willing to accept the burden of letting others die in her name. We discussed this, Birgitte. We decided that there was no way I could have known that Chesmal and the others would arrive as they did.”

“We decided,” Birgitte said through clenched teeth, “that there was no use arguing any further. But I want you to keep in mind that any number of things could still go wrong.”

“They won’t,” Elayne said, looking out over the city. “My children will be safe, and that means I will be, too. We have until their birth.”

Birgitte let out an exasperated sigh. “Foolish, stubborn…” She trailed off as one of the nearby Guardswomen waved to get her attention. Two of the Kin stepped onto the roof. Elayne had asked them to come meet with her.

Birgitte took up a position beside one of the short cherry trees, her arms folded. The two Kinswomen wore unadorned dresses, Sumeko in yellow, Alise in blue. Alise was the shorter of the two, with gray streaking her brown hair, and she was weaker in the Power, so she hadn’t slowed in aging as much as Sumeko.

Both women had grown more firm of step lately. No further Kinswomen had disappeared or been murdered; Careane had been behind the killings all along. A member of the Black, hiding among them. Light, but thinking of it made Elayne’s skin crawl!

“Your Majesty,” Alise said, curtsying. She spoke with a calm, smooth voice and a faint Taraboner accent.

“Your Majesty,” Sumeko said as well, mimicking her companions curtsy. The two were deferential—more so to Elayne than they were to other Aes Sedai these days. Nynaeve had given the Kin in general a backbone in regards to the Aes Sedai and the White Tower, though Alise hadn’t ever struck Elayne as needing it.

During the siege, Elayne had started to regard the Kinswomen’s attitudes with annoyance. Recently, however, she’d been wondering. They had extremely useful to her. How high would their newfound boldness lead? Elayne nodded to each of the Kin in turn, then gestured toward a trio of chairs that had been placed in the shade of the drooping cherry trees.

The three seated themselves, the stream winding its contrived way past them to the left. There was mint tea. The other two took a cup each, but were careful to add generous amounts of honey. Tea tasted terrible these days without it.

“How are the Kin?” Elayne asked.

The two women glanced at each other. Blast. Elayne was being too formal with them. They knew something was up.

“We are well, Your Majesty,” Alise said. “The fear seems to be leaving most of the women. At least, those who had enough sense to feel it in the first place. I suppose those who didn’t were the ones who went off on their own and found themselves dead.”

“It is good not to have to spend so much time Healing, either,” Sumeko noted. “It was becoming very fatiguing. So many wounded, day after day.” She grimaced.

Alise was made of stouter material. She sipped her tea, face mild. Not calm and frozen, like an Aes Sedai. Thoughtful and warm, yet reserved. That was an advantage these women had that the Aes Sedai did not—they could be regarded without as much suspicion, as they were not tied directly to the White Tower. But they didn’t have its authority, either.

“You can sense that I have something to ask of you,” Elayne said, meeting Alise’s eyes.

“We can?” Sumeko asked, sounding surprised. Perhaps Elayne had given her too much credit.

Alise nodded in a matronly way. “You’ve asked much of us while we’ve been here, Your Majesty. No more than I felt you had a right to ask. So far.”

“I have tried to welcome you in Caemlyn,” Elayne said. “As I realize you can never return home, not while the Seanchan rule Ebou Dar.”

“That is true,” Alise agreed. “But one can hardly call Ebou Dar our home. It was merely a place where we found ourselves. Less a home, more a necessity. Many of us rotated in and out of the city anyway, to avoid notice.”

“Have you considered where you will stay now?”

“Were going to Tar Valon,” Sumeko said quickly. “Nynaeve Sedai said—”

“I’m certain there will be a place for some of you there,” Elayne interjected. “Those who wish to become Aes Sedai. Egwene will be eager to give a second chance to any Kin who wish to try again for the shawl. But what of the rest of you?”

“We spoke of this,” Alise said carefully, eyes narrowing. “We will become associated with the Tower, a place for Aes Sedai to retire.”

“Surely you will not move to Tar Valon, though. What good would th Kin be as a place to retire from Aes Sedai politics if they are so near the White Tower?”

“We had assumed we would remain here,” Alise said.

“That was my assumption as well,” Elayne said carefully. “But assumptions are weak. I wish to give you promises instead. After all, if you were to remain in Caemlyn, I see no reason to not offer you support directly from the Crown.”

“At what cost?” Alise asked. Sumeko was watching with a confused frown.

“Not much of one,” Elayne said. “Really, not a cost at all. An occasional favor, as you have done the Crown in the past.”

The garden fell still. Faint calls from the city below rose up into the air, and the branches shivered in the wind, dropping a few brown leaves between Elayne and the Kin.

“That sounds dangerous,” Alise said, taking a sip of her tea. “Surely you’re not suggesting that we set up a rival White Tower here, in Caemlyn.”

“Nothing of the sort,” Elayne said quickly. “I am Aes Sedai myself, after all. And Egwene has spoken of letting the Kin continue as they have before, so long as they accept her authority.”

“I’m not certain we want to ‘continue as we have before,’” Alise said. “The White Tower left us to live our lives in terror that we would be discovered. But all the while, they were using us. The more we consider that, the less… amused that makes us.”

“Speak for yourself, Alise,” Sumeko said. “I intend to be tested and return to the Tower. I will join the Yellow, mark my words.”

“Perhaps, but they won’t have me,” Alise said. “I’m too weak in the Power. I won’t accept some halfway measure, forced to scrape and bow every time a sister comes along and wants me to wash her clothing. But I won’t stop channeling, either. I won’t give it up. Egwene Sedai has spoken of letting the Kin continue, but if we do, would be we be able to work the One Power openly?”

“I assume you would be able to,” Elayne said. “Much of this was Egwene’s idea. She certainly wouldn’t send Aes Sedai to you to retire if they were to be forbidden to channel. No, the days of women outside the Tower channeling in secret have passed. The Windfinders, the Aiel Wise Ones, have proven that times must change.”

“Perhaps,” Alise said. “But giving our services to the Crown of Andor is a very different matter.”

“We would make certain not to compete with the Tower’s interests,” Flavne said.

“And you would accept the Amyrlin’s authority. So what is the problem? Aes Sedai provide service to monarchs across the land.”

Alise sipped her tea. “Your offer has merit. But it depends on the nature of the favors required by the Crown of Andor.”

“I would only ask two things of you,” Elayne said. “Traveling and Healing. You need not enter our conflicts, you need not be part of our politics. Simply agree to Heal my people who are sick, and to assign a group of women each day to create gateways when the crown wishes.”

“That still sounds an awful lot like your own White Tower,” Alise said. Sumeko was frowning.

“No, no,” Elayne said. “The White Tower means authority, politics. You would be something else entirely. Imagine a place in Caemlyn where any person can come to receive Healing, free of charge. Imagine a city free of disease. Imagine a world where food can travel instantly to those who need it.”

“And a queen who can send troops wherever she needs,” Alise said. “Whose soldiers can fight one day, then be free of wounds the next. A queen who can earn a tidy profit by charging merchants for access to her gateways.” She took a sip of her tea.

“Yes,” Elayne admitted. Though she wasn’t certain how she was going to convince Egwene to let her do that part of it.

“We will want half,” Alise said. “Half of anything you charge for Traveling or Healing.”

“Healing is free,” Elayne said firmly. “For anyone who comes, regardless or station. People are treated in order of the severity of their ailment, not in order of their rank.”

“I could agree to this,” Alise said.

Sumeko turned to her, eyes wide. “You cannot speak for us. You yourself threw in my face the Knitting Circle having dissolved, now that we have left Ebou Dar. Besides, by the Rule—”

“I speak only for myself, Sumeko,” Alise said. “And those who would me. The Kin as we knew them are no more. We were dominated by our need to remain secret, and that is gone now.”

Sumeko grew silent.

“You mean to join the Aes Sedai, my friend,” Alise said, laying a hand on her arm. “But they will not have me, nor will I have them. I need something else, and others will as well.”

“But to tie yourselves to the Crown of Andor…”

“We tie ourselves to the White Tower,” Alise said. “But live in Caemlyn. Both have their benefits. We aren’t strong enough to stand on our own. Andor is as good a place as any. It has the favor of the White Tower, and the favor of the Dragon Reborn. Mostly, it is here, and so are we.”

“You can reorganize,” Elayne said, growing excited. “The Rule can be crafted anew. You can decide to let Kin marry now, if you wish. I think that would be for the best.”

“Why?” Alise asked.

“Because it will tie them down,” Elayne explained. “That will make them less of a threat to the White Tower. It will help differentiate you. It is something that few women in the White Tower do, and it gives you something to make the Kin more attractive as an option.”

Alise nodded, thoughtful; Sumeko seemed to be coming around. Elayne was sorry to admit that she wouldn’t miss the woman when she left. Elayne intended to push them to restructure how they chose leaders. It would be much more convenient if she could work with one like Alise, as opposed to whomever happened to be the oldest among them.

“I still worry about the Amyrlin,” Alise said. “Aes Sedai do not charge for services. What will she say if we start doing so?”

“I will speak with Egwene,” Elayne repeated. “I’m certain I can convince her that the Kin, and Andor, are no threat to her.”

Hopefully. There was a chance for something incredible in the Kin, a chance for Andor to have constant and inexpensive access to gateways. That would put her on nearly equal ground with the Seanchan.

She spoke with the women for a time longer, making certain they felt she was giving them due attention. Eventually, she dismissed them, but found herself lingering in the garden, standing between two planters holding bluebells, their clusters of tiny, vaselike blossoms drooping and wiggling in the breeze. She tried not to look at the planter beside them, which was empty. The bluebells there had flowered in the color of blood, and had actually bled something red when cut. The gardeners had pulled them out.

The Seanchan would come for Andor eventually. By then, Rands armies would likely be weakened and broken from the fighting, their leader possibly dead. Again, it made her heart twist to consider that, but she couldn’t shy away from the truth.

Andor would be a prize to the Seanchan. The mines and rich lands of her realm would tempt them, as would the proximity to Tar Valon. Beyond that, she suspected that those who claimed to be Artur Hawkwing’s successors would never be satisfied until they held all that had once belonged to their ancestor.

Elayne looked out over her nation. Her nation. Full of those who trusted in her to protect and defend them. Many who had supported her claim to the throne had had little faith in her. But she was their best option their only option. She would show them the wisdom of their choice.

Securing the Kin would be one step. Sooner or later, the Seanchan would be able to Travel. All they needed to do was capture one woman who knew the weaves, and soon each and every damane with the requisite strength would be able to create the portals. Elayne needed access to them as well.

What she didn’t have, however, were channelers to use in battle. She knew she couldn’t ask this of the Kin. They’d never agree to it, nor would Egwene. Nor would Elayne herself. Forcing a woman to use the Power as a weapon would make her no better than the Seanchan themselves.

Unfortunately, Elayne knew full well the destruction women using the One Power could cause. She’d been bound in a wagon while Birgitte led the attack on the Black Ajah who had kidnapped her here in Caemlyn, but she’d seen its aftermath. Hundreds dead, hundreds more wounded, dozens burned away. Smoking, twisted corpses.

She needed something. An edge against the Seanchan. Something to balance their channelers in combat. The only thing she could think of was the Black Tower. It was on Andor’s soil. She’d told them that she considered them part of her nation, but so far she’d gone no further than sending inspection parties.

What would happen to them if Rand died? Dared she try to claim them? Dared she wait for someone else to?