“There’s something from everyone,” Egwene muttered. “Every one of them left something pointing to a journey to Tear. How could anyone miss seeing it, if they looked? Why did the Amyrlin say nothing of this?”
“The Amyrlin,” Nynaeve said bitterly, “keeps her own counsel, and what matter if we burn for it!” She drew a deep breath, and sneezed from the dust they had stirred up. “What worries me is that I am looking at bait.”
“Bait?” Egwene said. But she saw it as soon as she spoke.
Nynaeve nodded. “Bait. A trap. Or maybe a diversion. But trap or diversion, it’s so obvious no one could be taken in by it.”
“Unless they do not care whether whoever found this saw the trap or not.” Uncertainty tinged Elayne’s voice. “Or perhaps they meant it to be so obvious that whoever found it would dismiss Tear immediately.”
Egwene wished she could not believe that the Black Ajah could be as sure of themselves as that. She realized she was gripping her pouch in her fingers, running her thumb along the twisted curve of the stone ring inside. “Perhaps they meant to taunt whoever found it,” she said softly. “Perhaps they thought whoever found this would rush headlong after them, in anger and pride.” Did they know we would find it? Do they see us that way?
“Burn me!” Nynaeve growled. It was a shock; Nynaeve never used such language.
For a time they simply stared in silence at the array.
“What do we do now?” Elayne asked finally.
Egwene squeezed the ring hard. Dreaming was closely linked to Foretelling; the future, and events in other places, could appear in a Dreamer’s dreams. “Maybe we will know after tonight.”
Nynaeve looked at her, silent and expressionless, then chose out a dark skirt that seemed not to have too many holes and rips, and began bundling in it the things they had found. “For now,” she said, “we will take this back to my room and hide it. I think we just have time, if we don’t want to be late to the kitchens.”
Late, Egwene thought. The longer she held the ring through her pouch, the greater the urgency she felt. We’re already a step behind, but maybe we won’t be too late.
CHAPTER
27
Tel’aran’rhiod
The room Egwene had been given, on the same gallery with Nynaeve and Elayne, was little different from Nynaeve’s. Her bed was a trifle wider, her table a little smaller. Her bit of rug had flowers instead of scrolls. That was all. After the novices’ quarters, it seemed like a room in a palace, but when the three of them gathered there late that night, Egwene wished she were back on the novice galleries, with no ring on her finger and no bands on her dress. The others looked as nervous as she felt.
They had worked in the kitchens for two more meals, and in between tried to puzzle out the meaning of what they had found in the storeroom. Was it a trap, or an attempt to divert the search? Did the Amyrlin know of the things, and if she did, why had she not mentioned them? Talking provided no answers, and the Amyrlin never appeared so they could ask her.
Verin had come into the kitchens after the midday meal, blinking as if she were not sure why she was there. When she saw Egwene and the other two on their knees among the cauldrons and kettles, she looked surprised for a moment, then walked over and asked, loud enough for anyone to hear, “Have you found anything?”
Elayne, with her head and shoulders inside a huge soup kettle, banged her head on the rim backing out. Her blue eyes seemed to take up her entire face.
“Nothing but grease and sweat, Aes Sedai,” Nynaeve said. The tug she gave her braid left a smear of greasy soap suds on her dark hair, and she grimaced.
Verin nodded as if that were the answer she had been seeking. “Well, keep looking.” She peered around the kitchen again, frowning as though puzzled to find herself there, and left.
Alanna came to the kitchens after midday, too, collecting a bowl of big green gooseberries and a pitcher of wine, and Elaida, then Sheriam, appeared after supper, and Anaiya, too.
Alanna had asked Egwene if she wanted to know more of the Green Ajah, inquired when they were going to get on with their studies. Just because the Accepted chose their own lessons and pace did not mean they were not supposed to do any at all. The first few weeks would be bad, of course, but they had to choose, or the choosing would be done for them.
Elaida merely stood for a time, stern-faced and staring at them, hands on her hips, and Sheriam did the same in almost the identical pose. Anaiya stood the same way, but her look was more concerned. Until she saw them glancing at her. Then her face became a match for Elaida’s and Sheriam’s before her.
None of those visits meant anything that Egwene could see. The Mistress of Novices certainly had reason to check on them, as well as on the novices working in the kitchens, and Elaida had reason to keep an eye on the Daughter-Heir of Andor. Egwene tried not to think of the Aes Sedai’s interest in Rand. As for Alanna, she was not the only Aes Sedai who came for a tray to take back to her rooms rather than eat with the others. Half the sisters in the Tower were too busy for meals, too busy to take the time to summon a servant to fetch a tray. And Anaiya . . . ? Anaiya could well be concerned for her Dreamer. Not that she would do anything to ease a punishment set by the Amyrlin Seat herself. That could have been Anaiya’s reason for coming. It could have been.
Hanging her dress in the wardrobe, Egwene told herself once again that even Verin’s slip could have been perfectly ordinary; the Brown sister was often absentminded. If it was a slip. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she pulled up her shift and began rolling down her stockings. She was almost beginning to dislike white as much as she did gray.
Nynaeve stood in front of the fireplace with Egwene’s pouch in one hand, tugging her braid. Elayne sat by the table, making nervous conversation.
“Green Ajah,” the golden-haired woman said for what Egwene thought must be the twentieth time since midday. “I might choo
se Green Ajah myself, Egwene. Then I can have three or four Warders, perhaps marry one of them. Who better for Prince Consort of Andor than a Warder? Unless it is. . . .” She trailed off, blushing.
Egwene felt a pang of jealousy she thought she had put down long ago, and sympathy mixed with it. Light, how can I be jealous when I cannot look at Galad without shivering and feeling as if I am melting, both at the same time? Rand was mine, but no more. I wish I could give him to you, Elayne, but he is not for either of us, I think. It may be all well and good for the Daughter-Heir to marry a commoner, as long as he’s an Andorman, but not to marry the Dragon Reborn. She let the stockings fall on the floor, telling herself there were more important things to worry about tonight than neatness. “I am ready, Nynaeve.”