Saidar faded from her as she sped down corridors and across courtyards. Holding on to anger was difficult when she was increasingly uneasy for Elayne. If the Black sisters had found her … . Who knew what they had beside the balefire ter’angreal? The list they had been given certainly did not give a use for everything.
Once she saw Liandrin, with her pale honey braids, and Rianna, with that white streak in her black hair, hurrying down a flight of broad marble stairs; she could not see the glow of saidar around them, but from the way servants cried out and leaped from their path, they were whipping a way clear for themselves with the Power. It made her glad she had not tried to cling to the Source herself; they would have picked her out of the throng in an instant by the glow, and until she had some rest, she was not up to facing either of them, much less both. She had what she had come for. They had to wait.
The crowd thinned and disappeared by the time she reached the narrow hall on the west side of the palace that was the meeting place. The others were waiting for her beside a small, bronze-studded door fastened with a large iron lock. Including Amathera, standing very straight, wearing a light linen cloak with the hood up. The Panarch’s white dress might pass for serving-woman garb if you did not look closely enough to see it was silk, and the veil that did not hide her face was certainly servant’s linen. The sound of shouts came muffled through the door. Apparently the riot was still going on. Now if only the men were doing the rest of their part.
Ignoring Egeanin, Nynaeve threw her arms around Elayne in a quick hug. “I was so worried. Did you have any trouble?”
“Not a bit,” Elayne replied. Egeanin shifted slightly, and the younger woman gave her a meaningful look, then added, “Amathera did cause a little problem, but we sorted it out.”
Nynaeve frowned. “Trouble? Why would she give trouble? Why would you give trouble?” That last was for the Panarch, who held her head high, refusing to look at anyone. Elayne seemed as reluctant.
It was the Seanchan woman who answered. “She tried to sneak off to rouse her soldiers to harry the Darkfriends out. After she had been warned.” Nynaeve refused to look at her.
“Do not scowl so, Nynaeve,” Elayne said. “I chased her down quickly, and we had a little talk. I think she is in perfect agreement with me now.”
The Panarch’s cheek twitched. “I am in agreement, Aes Sedai,” she said hastily. “I will do exactly as you say, and I will provide papers that should make even the rebels let you pass unhindered. There is no need for more … talking.”
Elayne nodded as if all of that made sense, motioning for the woman to be quiet. Whereupon the Panarch obediently closed her mouth. A trifle sullenly, but perhaps that was just the shape of her mouth. Clearly there had been some very odd goings on, and Nynaeve intended to find the bottom of them. Later. The narrow hallway was still empty in both directions, but panicked shouts still echoed from deeper in the palace. The mob rumbled beyond the small door.
“But what of you?” Elayne went on with a frown. “You were supposed to be here half an hour ago. Did you cause all of this? I felt two women channeling enough of the Power to shake the palace down, and then a bit later someone did try to shake it down. I thought it must be you. I had to restrain Egeanin from going to find you.”
Egeanin? Nynaeve hesitated, then made herself touch the Seanchan woman’s shoulder. “Thank you.” Egeanin looked as though she did not quite understand herself what she had done, but she gave a quick nod. “Moghedien found me, and because I was worrying about how to bring her out for trial, Jeaine Caide nearly took my head off with balefire.” Elayne gave a small squeak, and she hurried to reassure her. “It didn’t really come close to me.”
“You captured Moghedien? You captured one of the Forsaken?”
“Yes, but she got away.” There. She had admitted everything. Conscious of all their eyes on her, she shifted uncomfortably. She did not like being in the wrong. She especially did not like being in the wrong when it was she who had pointed out that it was wrong in the first place. “Elayne, I know what I said about being careful, but once I had her in my hands, it seemed all I could think of was bringing her to trial.” Taking a deep breath, Nynaeve made her voice apologetic. She hated doing that. Where were those fool men? “I endangered everything because I didn’t keep my mind on what we were about, but please don’t scold me.”
“I won’t,” Elayne said firmly. “So long as you remember to be careful in the future.” Egeanin cleared her throat. “Oh, yes,” Elayne added hastily. The waiting seemed to be getting to her; there were spots of color in her cheeks. “Did you find the collar, and the seal?”
“I have them.” She patted her pouch. The shouting outside seemed to be getting louder. And the shouts echoing down the halls were, too. Liandrin must be turning the palace upside down to find out what had happened. “What is keeping those men?”
“My Legion,” Amathera began. Elayne looked at her, and she snapped her mouth shut. Whatever talk they had had must have been something. The Panarch was pouting like a girl afraid of being sent to bed without supper.
Nynaeve glanced at Egeanin. The Seanchan woman was watching the door intently. She had wanted to come after her. Why won’t she let me hate her? Am I so different from her?
Suddenly the door swung open. Juilin pulled two thin bent metal rods out of the lock and straightened from a crouch. Blood ran down the side of his face. “Hurry. We must be away from here before it gets out of hand.”
Staring past him wide-eyed, Nynaeve wondered what he considered out of hand. Bayle Domon’s sailors, at least three hundred of them, formed a semicircle two deep about the door, Domon himself waving a cudgel, shouting to encourage them. He had to shout for the roar that filled the wide street. Men jostled and struggled and shouted in a seething mass, barely held back by the sailors’ clubs and staffs. Not that they were really interested in the sailors. Scattered through the crowd, clumps of mounted Whitecloaks swung their swords at men crowding them with pitchforks and barrel staves and bare hands. Showers of stones fell around them, sometimes banging off a helmet, but silently in the uproar. A lone Whitecloak’s horse suddenly screamed and reared, and toppled over backward; it scrambled to its feet quickly, minus its rider. Other riderless animals dotted the mass of men. Was this what they had set off just to cover themselves? She tried reminding herself why—put her hand on her pouch to feel the cuendillar seal, the collar and bracelets—but it was hard. Men were dying out there, surely.
“Will you women move?” Thom called, waving for them to come out. He had a bleeding gash over one bushy eyebrow, perhaps from a stone, and his brown cloak would not even do for the ragbag now. “If the Panarch’s Legion ever stops running, this could grow messy.”
Amathera made a startled sound, just before Elayne pushed her firmly out. Nynaeve and Egeanin followed, and as soon as all four women were out, the sailors folded in around them in a tight ring that began struggling away from the palace. It was all Nynaeve could do to keep her feet, jostled by the men who were trying to protect her. Once Egeanin slipped and nearly fell. Nynaeve caught her arm, helped her back up, and got a grateful grin. We are not so different, she thought. Not the same, but not all that different. She did not have to make herself smile encouragingly at the Seanchan woman.
The milling mass lasted several streets away from the palace, but once they broke clear the narrow twisting ways were almost empty. Those who were not actually involved in the riot seemed wise enough to stay clear of it. The sailors spread out a little, giving the women more room. Any straggler who looked in their direction got hard stares, though. The streets of Tanchico were still the streets of Tanchico. Somehow that surprised Nynaeve. It seemed that she had been weeks inside the palace. Surely the city should be different.
When the babble began to fade behind them, Thom managed a quite elegant bow to Amathera as he limped along. “An honor, Panarch,” he said. “If I may be of any service, you have only to speak.”
Shockingly, Amathera glanced at Elayne, grimaced slightly, and said, “You mistake me, good sir. I am only a poor refugee from the countryside, rescued by these good women.”
Thom exchanged startled looks with Juilin and Domon, but when he opened his mouth, Elayne said, “Could we get on to the inn, Thom? This is hardly the place for con
versation.”
When they reached the Three Plum Court, it was scarcely less surprising to hear Elayne introduce the Panarch to Rendra as Thera, a refugee with no money who needed a pallet, and maybe some work to earn her meals. The innkeeper shrugged resignedly, but as she led “Thera” away to the kitchens she was already telling the woman what lovely hair she had and how pretty she would look in the right dress.
Nynaeve waited until the rest of them were in the Chamber of Falling Blossoms with the door closed before saying, “Thera? And she went along! Elayne, Rendra will have the woman serving at table in the common room!”
Elayne did not seem surprised. “Yes, very likely.” Sinking into a chair with a sigh, she kicked off her slippers and began massaging her feet vigorously. “It was not difficult to convince Amathera she should stay in hiding for a few days. It really isn’t that far from ‘The Panarch is dead’ to ‘Death to the Panarch.’ I think seeing the riot helped, too. She doesn’t want to depend on Andric to put her back on her throne; she wants her own soldiers to do it, even if it means hiding until she can get in touch with the Lord Captain of the Legion. I believe Andric is in for a surprise with her. It is too bad he doesn’t surprise her. She deserves it.” Domon and Juilin exchanged glances, shook their heads uncomprehendingly. Egeanin nodded to herself as if she, at least, understood, and approved.