The Shadow Rising (The Wheel of Time 4)

Abrup

tly she realized her single braid had split in two, one over each ear, red ribbons woven through to make tassels on the ends. Her skirt was so short it showed her knees, she wore a loose white blouse like the Wise Ones, and her shoes and stockings were gone. Where had this come from? She had surely never thought of wearing anything like it. Egwene put a hasty hand over her mouth. Was she aghast? Surely not smiling.

“Uncontrolled thoughts,” Amys said, “can be very troublesome indeed, Nynaeve Sedai, until you learn.” Despite her bland tone, her lips quirked in barely masked amusement.

Nynaeve kept her face smooth with an effort. They could not have had anything to do with it. They can’t have! She struggled to change back, and it was a struggle, as though something held her as she was. Her cheeks grew hotter and hotter. Suddenly, just at the point when she was ready to break down and ask advice, or even help, her clothes and hair were as they had been. She wriggled her toes gratefully in good stout shoes. It had just been some odd, stray thought. In any case, she was not about to voice any suspicions; they looked far too amused as it was, even Egwene. I am not here for some fool contest. I just won’t dignify them.

“If I cannot enter her dream, can I bring her into the World of Dreams? I need some way to talk to her.”

“We would not teach you that if we knew how,” Amys said, hitching her shawl angrily. “It is an evil thing you ask, Nynaeve Sedai.”

“She would be as helpless here as you in her dream.” Bair’s thin voice sounded like an iron rod. “It has been handed down among dreamwalkers since the first that no one must ever be brought into the dream. It is said that that was the way of the Shadow in the last days of the Age of Legends.”

Nynaeve shifted her feet under those hard stares; realizing she had an arm around Egwene, she held still. She was not about to let Egwene think they had made her uneasy. Not that they had. If she thought of being hauled before the Women’s Circle before she was chosen Wisdom, it was nothing at all to do with the Wise Ones. Firmness was what was … . They stared at her. Hazy or not, these women could duel Siuan Sanche stare for stare. Especially Bair. Not that they intimidated her, but she could see the point of being reasonable. “Elayne and I need help. The Black Ajah is sitting on top of something that can harm Rand. If they find it before we do, they may be able to control him. We need to find it first. If there is anything you can do to help, anything you can tell me … . Anything at all.”

“Aes Sedai,” Amys said, “you can make a request for help sound a demand.” Nynaeve’s mouth tightened—demand? She had all but begged. Demand, indeed!—but the Aiel woman did not seem to notice. Or chose to ignore it. “Yet a danger to Rand al’Thor … . We cannot allow the Shadow to have that. There is a way.”

“Dangerous.” Bair shook her head vigorously. “This young woman knows less than Egwene did when she came to us. It is too dangerous for her.”

“Then maybe I could—” Egwene began, and the two cut her off as one.

“You are going to complete your training; you are too eager to go beyond what you know,” Bair said sharply at the same time Amys said, not the slightest bit softer, “You are not there in Tanchico, you do not know the place, and you cannot have Nynaeve’s need. She is the hunter.”

Under those iron eyes, Egwene subsided sulkily, and the two Wise Ones looked at each other. Finally Bair shrugged and lifted her shawl up around her face; clearly she washed her hands of the entire matter.

“It is dangerous,” Amys said. They made it sound as if breathing was dangerous in Tel’aran’rhiod.

“I—!” Nynaeve cut off as Amys’s eyes actually grew harder; she would not have thought it possible. Keeping a firm image of her clothes as they were—of course they had had nothing to do with that; it simply seemed wise to make sure her dress remained as it was—she changed what she had been going to say. “I will be careful.”

“It is not possible,” Amys told her flatly, “but I do not know another way. Need is the key. When there are too many people for the hold, the sept must divide, and the need is for water at the new hold. If no location with water is known, one of us may be called to find one. The key then is the need for a proper valley or canyon, not too far from the first, with water. Concentrating on that need will bring you near to what you want. Concentrating on the need again will bring you closer. Each step brings you nearer, until at last you are not only in the valley, but standing beside where water is to be found. It may be harder for you, because you do not know exactly what you are seeking, though the depth of need may make up for it. And you know already in a rough fashion where it lies, in this palace.

“The danger is this, and you must be aware of it.” The Wise One leaned toward her intently, driving her words home with a tone as sharp as her gaze. “Each step is made blind, with eyes closed. You cannot know where you will be when you open your eyes. And finding the water does no good if you are standing in a den of vipers. The fangs of a mountain king kill as quickly in the dream as waking. I think these women Egwene speaks of will kill more quickly than the snake.”

“I did that,” Egwene exclaimed. Nynaeve felt her jump as the Aiel women’s eyes went to her. “Before I met you,” she said hastily. “Before we went to Tear.”

Need. Nynaeve felt warmer toward the Aiel women now that one of them had given her something she could use. “You must keep a close eye on Egwene,” she told them, hugging the younger woman to show she meant it fondly. “You are right, Bair. She will try to do more than she knows how. She has always been that way.” For some reason Bair arched a white eyebrow at her.

“I do not find her so,” Amys said in a dry voice. “She is a biddable student, now. Is that not so, Egwene?”

Egwene’s mouth set in a stubborn line. These Wise Ones did not know her well if they believed a Two Rivers woman would call herself biddable. On the other hand, she did not say anything. That was unexpected. As hard a lot as Aes Sedai, it appeared, these Aielwomen.

Her hour was slipping away, and impatience bubbled to try this method now; if Elayne woke her, it might take hours to get back to sleep. “In seven days,” she said, “one of us will meet you here again.”

Egwene nodded. “In seven days, Rand will have shown himself to the clan chiefs as He Who Comes With the Dawn, and the Aiel will all be behind him.” The Wise Ones’ eyes shifted slightly, and Amys adjusted her shawl; Egwene did not see it. “The Light knows what he means to do then.”

“In seven days,” Nynaeve said, “Elayne and I will have taken whatever Liandrin is hunting away from the lot of them.” Or else, very likely, the Black Ajah would have it. So the Wise Ones were not more certain the Aiel would follow Rand than Egwene was of his plans. No certainty anywhere. But no point in burdening Egwene with more doubts, either. “When one of us sees you next, we’ll have laid them by the heels and stuffed them all in sacks to cart to the Tower for trial.”

“Try to be careful, Nynaeve. I know you don’t know how to, but try anyway. Tell Elayne I said so, too. She isn’t as … bold … as you are, but she can come close.” Amys and Bair each laid a hand on Egwene’s shoulder, and they were gone.

Try to be careful? Fool girl. She was always careful. What had Egwene been about to say rather than bold? Nynaeve folded her arms tightly in lieu of pulling her braid. Maybe better she did not know.

She realized she had not told Egwene about Egeanin. Perhaps best not to stir up Egwene’s memories of her captivity. Nynaeve could remember all too well the other woman’s nightmares for weeks after she was freed, waking up screaming that she would not be chained. Much the best to let it lie. It was not as if Egwene need ever meet the Seanchan woman. Burn that woman! Burn Egeanin to ash! Burn her!

“This is not using my time wisely,” she said aloud. The words echoed through the tall columns. With the other women gone, they looked even more foreboding than before, more a hiding place for unseen watchers and things that jumped out at you. Time to be away.

First, though, she changed her hair to a tassel of long narrow braids, her dress to clinging folds of dark green silk. A transparent veil covered her mouth and nose, fluttering slightly when she breathed. With a grimace she added beads of green jade woven into the thin plaits. Should any of the Black sisters be using their stolen ter’angreal to enter the World of Dreams and see her in the Panarch’s Palace, they would think her only a Taraboner woman who had dreamed herself there in more ordinary fashion. Some knew her by sight, though. Lifting a handful of bead-strung braids, she smiled. Pale honey. She had not realized that was possible. I wonder what I look like. Could they still know me?

Suddenly a tall stand-mirror stood beside Callandor. In the glass, her big brown eyes widened in shock, her rosebud of a mouth fell open. She had Rendra’s face! Her features flickered back and forth, eyes and hair flashing darker then lighter; straining, she settled them as the innkeeper’s. No one would know her now. And Egwene thought she did not know how to be careful.