“A Gray Man,” Egwene said, and Elayne jumped, trying to look in every direction at once. The glow of saidar surrounded her.
“Where?”
Egwene took a slower look around the decks, but to make sure no one was close enough to overhear. Captain Ellisor still stood in the stern, by the shirtless man holding the long tiller. Another sailor was up in the very bow, scanning the waters ahead for signs of submerged mudbanks, and two more padded about the deck, now and again adjusting a rope to the sails. The rest of the crew were all below. One of the pair stopped to check the lashings on the rowboat tied upside down on the deck; she waited for him to go on before speaking.
“Fool!” she muttered softly. “Me, Elayne, not you, so don’t glower at me like that.” She continued in a whisper. “A Gray Man is after Mat, Elayne. That must be what that dream meant, but I never saw it. I am a fool!”
The glow around Elayne vanished. “Do not be so hard on yourself,” she whispered back. “Perhaps it does mean that, but I did not see it, and neither did Nynaeve.” She paused; red-gold curls swung as she shook her head. “But it doesn’t make sense, Egwene. Why would a Gray Man be after Mat? There is nothing in my letter to my mother that could harm us in the slightest.”
“I do not know why.” Egwene frowned. “There has to be a reason. I am sure that is what that dream means.”
“Even if you are right, Egwene, there is nothing you can do about it.”
“I know that,” Egwene said bitterly. She did not even know whether he was ahead of them or behind. Ahead, she suspected; Mat would have left without any delay. “Either way,” she muttered to herself, “it does no good. I finally know what one of my dreams means, and it doesn’t help a hemstitch worth!”
“But if you know one meaning,” Elayne told her, “perhaps now you will know others. If we sit down and talk them over, perhaps—”
The Blue Crane gave a shuddering lurch, throwing Elayne to the deck and Egwene on top of her. When Egwene struggled to her feet, the shoreline no longer slid by. The vessel had halted, with the bow raised and the deck canted to one side. The sails flapped noisily in the wind.
Chin Ellisor pushed himself to his feet and ran for the bow, leaving the tillerman to rise on his own. “You blind worm of a farmer!” he roared toward the man in the bow, who was clinging to the rail to keep from falling the rest of the way over. “You dirt-grubbing get of a goat! Haven’t you been on the river long enough yet to recognize how the water ruffles over a mudflat?” He seized the man on the rail by the shoulders and pulled him back onto the deck, but only to shove him out of the way so he could peer down over the bow himself. “If you’ve put a hole in my hull, I will use your guts for caulking!”
The other crewmen were clambering to their feet, now, and more came scrambling up from below. They all ran to cluster around the captain.
Nynaeve appeared at the head of the ladder that led down to the passenger cabins, still straightening her skirts. With a sharp tug at her braid, she frowned at the knot of men in the bow, then strode to Egwene and Elayne. “He ran us onto something, did he? After all his talk of knowing the river as well as he knows his wife. The woman probably never receives as much as a smile from him.” She jerked the thick braid again and went forward, pushing her way through the sailors to reach the captain. They were all intent on the water below.
There was no point in joining her. He will have us off faster if he’s left to it. Nynaeve was probably telling him how to do the work. Elayne seemed to feel the same way, from the rueful shake of the head she gave as she watched the captain and crewmen all turn their attention respectfully from whatever was under the bow to Nynaeve.
A ripple of agitation ran through the men, and grew stronger. For a moment the captain’s hands could be seen, waving in protest over the other men’s heads, and then Nynaeve was striding away from them—they made way, bowing now?
??with Ellisor hurrying beside her and mopping his round face with a large red handkerchief. His anxious voice became audible as they drew near.
“. . . a good fifteen miles to the next village on the Andor side, Aes Sedai, and at least five or six miles downriver on the Cairhien side! Andoran soldiers hold it, it is true, but they do not hold the miles from here to there!” He wiped at his face as if he were dripping sweat.
“A sunken ship,” Nynaeve told the the other two women. “The work of river brigands, the captain thinks. He means to try backing off it with the sweeps, but he does not seem to think that will work.”
“We were running fast when we hit, Aes Sedai. I wanted to make good speed for you.” Ellisor rubbed even harder at his face. He was afraid the Aes Sedai would blame him, Egwene realized. “We are stuck hard. But I do not think we are taking water, Aes Sedai. There is no need to worry. Another ship will be along. Two sets of sweeps will surely get us free. There is no need for you to be put ashore, Aes Sedai. I do swear it, by the Light.”
“You were thinking of leaving the ship?” Egwene asked. “Do you think that is wise?”
“Of course, it’s—!” Nynaeve stopped and frowned at her. Egwene returned the frown with a level stare. Nynaeve went on in a calmer tone, if still a tight one. “The captain says it may be an hour before another ship comes along. One with enough sweeps to make a difference. Or a day. Or two, maybe. I do not think we can afford to waste a day or two waiting. We can be in this village—what did you call it, Captain? Jurene?—we can walk to Jurene in two hours or less. If Captain Ellisor frees his vessel as quickly as he hopes, we can reboard then. He says he will stop to see if we are there. If he does not get free, though, we can take ship from Jurene. We may even find a vessel waiting. The captain says traders do stop there, because of the Andoran soldiers.” She drew a deep breath, but her voice grew tighter. “Have I explained my reasoning fully enough? Do you need more?”
“It is clear to me,” Elayne put in quickly before Egwene could speak. “And it sounds a good idea. You think it is a good idea, too, don’t you, Egwene?”
Egwene gave a grudging nod. “I suppose it is.”
“But, Aes Sedai,” Ellisor protested, “at least go to the Andor bank. The war, Aes Sedai. Brigands, and every sort of ruffian, and the soldiers not much better. The very wreck under our bow shows the sort of men they are.”
“We have not seen a living soul on the Cairhien side,” Nynaeve said, “and in any case, we are far from defenseless, Captain. And I will not walk fifteen miles when I can walk six.”
“Of course, Aes Sedai.” Ellisor really was sweating, now. “I did not mean to suggest. . . . Of course you are not defenseless, Aes Sedai. I did not mean to suggest it.” He wiped his face furiously, but it still glistened.
Nynaeve opened her mouth, glanced at Egwene, and seemed to change what she had intended to say. “I am going below for my things,” she told the air halfway between Egwene and Elayne, then turned on Ellisor. “Captain, make your rowboat ready.” He bowed and scurried away even before she turned for the hatch, and was shouting for men to put the boat over the side before she was below.
“If one of you says ‘up,’ ” Elayne murmured, “the other says ‘down.’ If you do not stop it, we may not reach Tear.”
“We will reach Tear,” Egwene said. “And sooner once Nynaeve realizes she is not the Wisdom any longer. We are all”—she did not say Accepted; there were two many men hurrying about—“on the same level, now.” Elayne sighed.
In short order the rowboat had ferried them ashore, and they were standing on the bank with walking staffs in hand, their belongings in bundles on their backs, and hung about them in pouches and scripts. Rolling grassland and scattered copses surrounded them, though the hills were forested a few miles in from the river. The sweeps on the Blue Crane were cutting up froth, but failing to budge the vessel. Egwene turned and started south without another glance. And before Nynaeve could take the lead.