The Shadow Rising (The Wheel of Time 4)

“Not the main purpose, perhaps,” Moiraine replied. “The captain very wisely kept his men to their posts in the dungeons during the attack. They never saw a single Trolloc or Myrddraal. But they found the pair dead, after. Each with her throat rather messily cut. After her tongue had been nailed to her cell door.” She might as well have been speaking of having a dress mended.

Elayne’s stomach heaved leadenly at the detached description. “I would not have wanted that for them. Not like that. The Light illumine their souls.”

“They sold their souls to the Shadow long ago,” Egwene said roughly. She had both hands pressed to her stomach, though. “How … . How was it done? Gray Men?”

“I doubt even Gray Men could have managed that,” Moiraine said dryly. “The Shadow has resources beyond what we know, it seems.”

“Yes.” Egwene smoothed her dress, and her voice. “If there was no attempt at rescue, it must mean they were both telling the truth. They were killed because they talked.”

“Or to stop them from it,” Nynaeve added grimly. “We can hope they do not know that those two told us anything. Perhaps Joiya did repent, but I’ll not believe it.”

Elayne swallowed, thinking of being in a cell, having your face pressed to the door so your tongue could be pulled out and … . She shivered, but made herself say, “They might have been killed simply to punish them for being captured.” She left out her thought that the killing might have been to make them believe whatever Joiya and Amico had said; they had enough doubts about what to do as it was. “Three possibilities, and only one says the Black Ajah knows they revealed a word. Since all three are equal, the chances are that they do not know.”

Egwene and Nynaeve looked shocked. “To punish them?” Nynaeve said incredulously.

They were both tougher than she in many ways—she admired them for it—but they had not grown up watching the maneuverings at court in Caemlyn, hearing tales of the cruel way Cairhienin and Tairens played the Games of Houses.

“I think the Black Ajah might be less than gentle with failure of any kind,” she told them. “I can imagine Liandrin ordering it. Joiya surely could have done it easily.” Moiraine eyed her briefly, a reassessing look.

“Liandrin,” Egwene said, her tone absolutely flat. “Yes, I can imagine Liandrin or Joiya giving that command.”

“You did not have much longer to question them in any case,” Moiraine said. “They would have been shipbound by midday tomorrow.” A hint of anger touched her voice; Elayne realized Moiraine must see the Black sisters’ deaths as an escape from justice. “I hope you reach some decision soon. Tanchico or the Tower.”

Elayne met Nynaeve’s eyes and gave a slight nod.

Nynaeve nodded back, more assertively, before turning to the Aes Sedai. “Elayne and I will be going to Tanchico as soon as we can find a ship. A fast ship, I hope. Egwene and Aviendha will be going to Cold Rocks Hold, in the Aiel Waste.” She gave no reasons, and Moiraine’s eyebrows rose.

“Jolien can take her,” Aviendha said into the momentary silence. She avoided looking at Egwene. “Or Sefela, or Bain and Chiad. I … I have a thought to go with Elayne and Nynaeve. If there is war in this Tanchico, they have need of a sister to watch their backs.”

“If that is what you want, Aviendha,” Egwene said slowly.

She looked surprised and hurt, but no more surprised than Elayne. She had thought the two of them were becoming friends. “I am glad you want to help us, Aviendha, but you should be the one to take Egwene to Cold Rocks Hold.”

“She is going neither to Tanchico nor Cold Rocks Hold,” Moiraine said, taking a letter from her pouch and unfolding the pages. “This was placed in my hand an hour gone. The young Aielman who brought it told me it was given to him a month ago, before any of us reached Tear, yet it is addressed to me by name, at the Stone of Tear.” She glanced at the last sheet. “Aviendha, do you know Amys, of the Nine Valleys sept of the Taardad Aiel; Bair, of the Haido sept of the Shaarad Aiel; Melaine, of the Jhirad sept of the Goshien Aiel; and Seana, of the Black Cliff sept of the Nakai Aiel? They signed it.”

“They are all Wise Ones, Aes Sedai. All dreamwalkers.” Aviendha’s stance had shifted to wariness, though she did not seem aware of it. She looked ready to fight or flee.

“Dreamwalkers,” Moiraine mused. “Perhaps that explains it. I have heard of dreamwalkers.” She turned to the second page of the letter. “Here is what they say about you. What they said perhaps before you had even decided to come to Tear. ‘There is among the Maidens of the Spear in the Stone of Tear a willful girl called Aviendha, of the Nine Valleys sept of the Taardad Aiel. She must now come to us. There can be no more waiting or excuses. We will await her on the slopes of Chaendaer, above Rhuidean.’ There is more about you, but mainly telling me that I must see you come to them without delay. They issue commands like the Amyrlin, these Wise Ones of yours.” She made a vexed sound, which brought Elayne to wonder if the Wise Ones had tried issuing commands to the Aes Sedai, too. Not very likely. And unlikely to be successful if tried. Still, something about that letter irritated the Aes Sedai.

“I am Far Dareis Mai,” Aviendha said angrily. “I do not go running like a child when someone calls my name. I will go to Tanchico if I wish.”

Elayne pursed her lips thoughtfully. This was something new from the Aiel woman. Not the anger—she had seen Aviendha angry before, if not quite to this degree—but the undertone. She could call it nothing but sulkiness. That seemed as unlikely as Lan being sulky, but there it was.

Egwene heard it, too. She patted Aviendha’s arm. “It’s all right. If you want to go to Tanchico, I’ll be pleased that you are protecting Elayne and Nynaeve.” Aviendha gave her a truly miserable look.

Moiraine shook her head, only slightly, but still deliberate. “I showed this to Rhuarc.” Aviendha opened her mouth, her face irate, but the Aes Sedai raised her voice and went on smoothly. “As the letter asks me to. Only the part concerning you, of course. He seems quite determined that you will do as the letter asks. As it orders. I think it wisest to do as Rhuarc and the Wise Ones wish, Aviendha. Do you not agree?”

Aviendha stared around the room wildly, as at a trap. “I am Far Dareis Mai,” she muttered, and strode for the door without another word.

Egwene took a step, half-raising a hand to stop her, then let it fall as the door banged shut. “What do they want with her?” she demanded of Moiraine. “You always know more than you let on. What are you holding back this time?”

“Whatever the Wise Ones’ reason,” Moiraine said coolly, “it is surely a matter between Aviendha and them. If she wished you to know, she would have told you.”

“You cannot stop trying to maneuver people,” Nynaeve said bitterly. “You’re maneuvering Aviendha into something now, aren’t you?”

“Not I. The Wise Ones. And Rhuarc.” Moiraine folded the letter, returning it to her belt pouch with a touch of acerbity in her manner. “She can always say no to him. A clan chief is not the same as a king, as I understand Aiel ways.”

“Can she?” Elayne asked. Rhuarc reminded her of Gareth Bryne. The Captain-General of her mother’s Royal Guards had seldom put his foot down, but when he did, not even Morgase could bring him around, short of a royal command. There would be no command from the throne this time—not that Morgase had ever issued one to Gareth Bryne when he had decided he was right, now that Elayne thought of it—and without one, she expected that Aviendha was going to the slopes of Chaendaer, above Rhuidean. “At least she can journey with you, Egwene. Amys can hardly meet you at Cold Rocks Hold if she plans to wait for Aviendha at Rhuidean. You can go to Amys together.”