Egwene looked to Nynaeve, but what Nynaeve said was, “Why is Elayne not part of this? It can’t be because you think she is Black Ajah. Is it because she is Daughter-Heir of Andor?”
“A full net on the first cast, child. I would make her one of you if I could, but at the moment Morgase gives me enough problems as it is. When I have her combed and curried and prodded back on the proper path, perhaps Elayne will join you. Perhaps then.”
“Then leave Egwene out, too,” Nynaeve said. “She is barely old enough to be a woman. I will do your hunting for you.” Egwene made a sound of protest—I am a woman!—but the Amyrlin spoke before her.
“I am not setting you out as bait, child. If I had a hundred of you, I would still not be happy, but there are only you two, so two I will have.”
“Nynaeve,” Egwene said, “I do not understand you. Do you mean you want to do this?”
“It isn’t that I want to,” Nynaeve said wearily, “but I’d rather hunt them than sit wondering if the Aes Sedai teaching me is really a Darkfriend. And whatever they are up to, I do not want to wait until they’re ready to find out what it is.”
The decision Egwene came to twisted her stomach. “Then I will do it, too. I don’t want to sit wondering and waiting any more than you do.” Nynaeve opened her mouth, and Egwene felt a flash of anger; it was such a relief after fear. “And don’t you dare say I’m too young again. At least I can channel when I want to. Most of the time. I am not a little girl anymore, Nynaeve.”
Nynaeve stood there, jerking on her braid and not saying a word. Finally the stiffness drained out of her. “You are not, are you? I have said myself you are a woman, but I suppose I did not really believe it, inside. Girl, I—No, woman. Woman, I hope you realize you’ve climbed into a pickling cauldron with me, and the fire may be lit.”
“I know it.” Egwene was proud that her voice hardly shook at all.
The Amyrlin smiled as if pleased, but there was something in her blue eyes that made Egwene suspect she had known what their decisions would be all along. For an instant, she felt those puppeteer’s strings on her arms and legs again.
“Verin. . . .” The Amyrlin hesitated, then muttered half to herself. “If I must trust someone, it might as well be her. She knows as much as I already, and maybe more.” Her voice strengthened. “Verin will give you all that is known of Liandrin and the others, and also a list of the ter’angreal that were taken, and what they will do. Those that we know. As for any of the Black Ajah still in the Tower. . . . Listen, watch, and be careful of your questions. Be like mice. If you have even a suspicion, report it to me. I will keep an eye on you myself. No one will think that strange, given what you’re being punished for. You can make your reports when I look in on you. Remember, they have killed before. They could easily kill again.”
“That’s all very well,” Nynaeve said, “but we will still be Accepted, and it is Aes Sedai we’re after. Any full sister can tell us to go about our business, or send us off to do her laundry, and we will have no choice but to obey. There are places Accepted are not supposed to go, things we’re not supposed to do. Light, if we were sure a sister was Black Ajah, she could tell the guards to lock us in our rooms and keep us there, and they would do it. They certainly would not take the word of an Accepted over that of an Aes Sedai.”
“For the most part,” the Amyrlin said, “you must work within the limitations of the Accepted. The idea is for no one to suspect you. But. . . .”She opened the black box on her table, hesitated and looked at the other two women as if still unsure she wanted to do this, then took out a number of stiff, folded papers. Sorting through them carefully, she hesitated again, then chose out two. The remainder she shoved back into the box, and handed those two to Egwene and Nynaeve. “Keep these well hidden. They are for an emergency only.”
Egwene unfolded her thick paper. It held writing in a neat, round hand, and was sealed at the bottom with the White Flame of Tar Valon.
What the bearer does is done at my order and by my authority. Obey, and keep silent, at my command.
Siuan Sanche
Watcher of the Seals
Flame of Tar Valon
The Amyrlin Seat
“I could do anything with this,” Nynaeve said in a wondering voice. “Order the guards to march. Command the Warders.” She gave a little laugh. “I could make a Warder dance, with this.”
“Until I found out about it,” the Amyrlin agreed dryly. “Unless you had a very convincing reason, I’d make you wish Liandrin had caught you.”
“I didn’t mean to do any of that,” Nynaeve said hastily. “I just meant t
hat it gives more authority than I had imagined.”
“You may need every shred of it. But just you remember, child. A Darkfriend won’t heed that any more than a Whitecloak would. They would both likely kill you just for having it. If that paper is a shield . . . well, paper shields are flimsy, and this one may have a target painted on it.”
“Yes, Mother,” Egwene and Nynaeve said together. Egwene folded her paper up and tucked it into her belt pouch, resolving not to take it out again unless she absolutely had to. And how will I know when that is?
“What about Mat?” Nynaeve asked. “He’s very sick, Mother, and he does not have much time left.”
“I will send word to you,” the Amyrlin said curtly.
“But, Mother—”
“I will send word to you! Now, off with you, children. The hope of the Tower rests in your hands. Go to your rooms and get some rest. Remember, you have appointments with Sheriam, and with the pots.”
CHAPTER