Lord of Chaos (The Wheel of Time 6)

Dobraine spread his hands. “You are the Lord Dragon’s friend, and he is not here.” He hesitated, and when he went on, it seemed he was forcing words. “Last night, Colavaere dined with guests from a number of the smaller Houses. Daganred, Chuliandred, Annallin, Osiellin, others. Small by themselves, but numerous. The subject was alliance with House Saighan and support for Colavaere for the Sun Throne. She made little effort to hide the meeting.” Again he paused, weighing Perrin with his eyes. Whatever Dobraine saw, he seemed to think it called for more explanation. “This is most strange, because both Maringil and Meilan wanted the throne, and either would have had her smothered with her own pillows had they learned of it.”

At last Perrin understood, though not why the man needed to beat around the bush so. He wished Faile would speak up; she was so much better at this sort of thing than he. From the corner of his eye he could see her, head bent over the stones board, and watching him from the corner of her eye. “If you think Colavaere committed a crime, Lord Dobraine, you should go to . . . to Rhuarc.” He had been going to say Berelain, but even so, the thread of jealousy increased slightly in Faile’s scent.

“The Aiel savage?” Dobraine snorted. “Better to go to Berelain, and that not much. I admit the Mayener wench knows how to order a city, but she thinks every day is the Feast of Lights. Colavaere will have her sliced and cooked with peppers. You are the Dragon Reborn’s friend. Colavaere — ” This time he stopped because he finally realized that Berelain had entered the room without knocking, something long and narrow and wrapped in a blanket cradled in her arms.

Perrin had heard the door latch click, and at the sight of her, with half her bosom exposed, fury almost washed everything else out of his head. The woman came here, to carry on her flirting in front of his wife! Rage drove him to his feet, and his hands slapped together with a thunder crack. “Out! Out, woman! Out, now! Or I will throw you out, and I will throw you so far you bounce twice!”

Berelain gave such a start at his first shout that she dropped her burden and took a wide-eyed step back, although she did not leave. By the last word, Perrin realized that everyone was looking at him. Dobraine’s face appeared impassive, but his scent was all astonishment, like one tall stone spike in the middle of a flat plain. Loial’s ears were as stiffly erect as that spike, and his jaw on his chest. And Faile, wearing that cool smile . . . Perrin did not understand at all. He expected the waves of jealousy, with Berelain right there in the room, but why did she smell just as strongly of hurt?

Suddenly Perrin saw what Berelain had dropped. The blanket had fallen away to reveal Rand’s sword and the belt with the Dragon buckle. Would Rand have left that behind? Perrin liked to think things, through; when you were hasty, you could hurt people without meaning to. But that sword lying there was like a strike of lightning. Fast was foolish, and sloppy, in forge work, but Perrin’s hackles rose, and a growl rumbled deep in his throat.

“They have taken him!” Sulin wailed suddenly, shockingly. Head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, she moaned at the ceiling, and the sound of her voice was enough to make Perrin shiver. “The Aes Sedai have taken my first-brother!” Her cheeks glistened with tears.

“Be calm, good woman,” Berelain said firmly. “Go into the next room, and be calm.” To Perrin and Dobraine she added, “We cannot allow her to spread word — ”

“You do not recognize me,” Sulin broke in savagely, “wearing this dress and with my hair grown longer. Speak of me again as though I am not here, and I will give you what I hear Rhuarc gave you in the Stone of Tear, and should have since.”

Perrin exchanged confused glances with Dobraine and Loial, even with Faile before her eyes jerked away. Berelain, on the other hand, went pale and crimson by turns; her scent was pure mortification, shriveled and small.

Striding to the door, Sulin had flung it open before anyone could move; Dobraine at least started to, but a yellow-haired young Maiden passing by saw her and grinned in amusement. “Wipe your face, Luaine,” Sulin snapped. Her hands seemed to be moving, hidden from the room by her body. Luaine’s grin was indeed wiped away. “Tell Nandera she must come here at once. And Rhuarc. And bring me cadin’sor, and scissors to cut my hair properly. Run, woman! Are you Far Dareis Mai or Shae’en M’taal?” The yellow-haired Maiden darted away, and Sulin turned back to the room with a satisfied nod, slamming the door. Faile was gaping.

“Grace favors us,” Dobraine growled. “She told the Aiel nothing; the woman must be mad. We can decide what to tell them after we tie and gag her.” He moved as if to do it, even pulling a dark green scarf from his coat pocket, but Perrin caught his arm.

“She is Aiel, Dobraine,” Berelain said. “A Maiden of the Spear. I do not understand the livery.” Surprisingly, it was Berelain who received a warning glare from Sulin.

Perrin exhaled slowly. And he had wanted to protect the white-haired old woman from Dobraine. The Cairhienin looked at him questioningly, raised the hand holding the scarf a little; apparently he still favored binding and gagging. Perrin stepped between the two and picked up Rand’s sword.

“I want to be sure.” Suddenly he realized his steps had put him very close to Berelain. She glanced at Sulin uneasily and moved closer to him, as though seeking protection, but her scent was determined, not uneasy; she smelled like a hunter. “I don’t like leaping to conclusions,” he said, walking over to stand beside Faile’s chair. Not quickly; just a man going to stand by his wife. “This sword isn’t really proof of anything.” Faile rose and glided around the table to peer at the board past Loial’s shoulder; well, closer to his elbow, really. Berelain glided too, toward Perrin; she was still casting fearful looks at Sulin without the slightest fear scent, and her hand came up as if to take his arm. He moved after Faile, trying to appear casual. “Rand said three Aes Sedai could not harm him, if he was watchful.” Faile sailed around the other side of the table back to her chair. “I understand he never let more than three near him.” Berelain followed with piteous looks for him and plainly fearful ones for Sulin. “I was told only three came here the day he left.” He went after Faile, a little faster. She popped out of her chair again, returning to Loial’s side. Loial had his head in his hands and was moaning, softly for an Ogier. Berelain stalked after Perrin with her already big eyes wide, the very picture of a woman seeking protection. Light, she smelled determined!

Whirling to face her, Perrin shoved stiffened fingers against her chest hard enough to make her squeak. “Stop right there!” Abruptly he realized exactly where his fingers were nestled and snatched them away as if burned. He managed to keep his voice hard, though. “Stay right there!” He backed away from her, glaring hard enough to crack a stone wall. He could understand why Faile’s jealousy was a cloud filling his nose, but why, why, why did she smell even more hurt than before?

“Few men can make me obey,” Berelain laughed softly, “but I think you are one.” Her face and tone — and more importantly, her scent — became serious. “I went searching in the Lord Dragon’s apartments because I was afraid. Everyone knew the Aes Sedai had come to escort him to Tar Valon, and I could not understand why they had given up. I myself received no fewer than ten visits from various sisters, advising me on what I should do when he returned to the Tower with them. They seemed very certain.” She hesitated, and though she did not look at Faile, Perrin got the impression she was considering whether to say something in front of her. In front of Dobraine as well, but more Faile. The hunter smell returned. “I received the strong impression that I should return to Mayene, and that if I did not, I might well be escorted there.”

Sulin muttered under her breath, but Perrin’s ears heard clearly. “Rhuarc is a fool. If she was truly his daughter, he would have no time to do anything else for having to beat her.”

“Ten?” Dobraine said. “I had only one visit. I thought she was disappointed when I made it clear I had sworn fealty to the Lord Dragon. But

whether ten or one, Colavaere is the key. She knows as well as any that the Lord Dragon means the Sun Throne for Elayne Trakand.” He grimaced. “Elayne Damodred, she should be. Taringail should have insisted Morgase marry into Damodred instead of marrying into Trakand himself; she needed him enough to have done it. Well, Elayne Trakand or Elayne Damodred, she has as strong a claim to the throne as any, stronger than Colavaere’s by far, yet I am convinced Colavaere had Maringil and Meilan killed to make her own way to the throne safe. She would never have dared had she thought the Lord Dragon would ever return.”

“So that is why.” A small, vexed frown creased Berelain’s forehead. “I have proof she had a servant put poison in Maringil’s wine — she was careless, and I brought two good thief-catchers with me — but I did not know why.” She bowed her head slightly, acknowledging Dobraine’s admiring look. “She will hang for that. If there is any way to get the Lord Dragon back. If not, I fear we must all look to how we are to stay alive.”

Perrin’s hand tightened on the boarhide scabbard. “I will get him back,” he growled. Dannil and the other Two Rivers men could not be more than halfway to Cairhien yet, burdened with the wagons. But there were the wolves. “If I have to go alone, I’ll get him back.”

“Not alone,” Loial said, as grimly as stone grinding. “Never alone while I am here, Perrin.” Abruptly his ears shifted in embarrassment; he always seemed embarrassed when anyone saw him being brave. “After all, my book will not end very well if Rand is imprisoned in the Tower. And I can hardly write of his rescue if I am not there.”

“You will not go alone, Ogier,” Dobraine said. “I can have five hundred men I trust by tomorrow. What we can do against six Aes Sedai, I do not know, but I keep my oaths.” Looking at Sulin, he fingered the scarf that he still held. “But how far can we trust the savages?”

“How far can we trust treekillers?” Sorilea demanded in a voice leathery and tough as she herself, striding in without knocking. A grim-smelling Rhuarc was with her, and Amys, her too-youthful face cool as any Aes Sedai’s in that incongruous frame of white hair, and Nandera, reeking of murderous fury and carrying a bundle of gray and brown and green.

“You know?” Perrin said incredulously.

Nandera tossed the bundle at Sulin. “Past time you saw your toh as met. Almost four and a half weeks, an entire month and a half. Even gai’shain say your pride is too strong.” The two women vanished into the bedchamber.

A smell of irritation had wafted from Faile as soon as Perrin spoke. “Maiden handtalk,” she murmured, too softly for any ear but his to hear. He gave her a grateful look, but she appeared to be concentrating on the stones board. Why was she not taking part? She gave good advice, and he would be grateful for any she was willing to offer. She placed a stone and frowned at Loial, who was intent on Perrin and the others.

Trying not to sigh, Perrin said flatly, “I don’t care who trusts who. Rhuarc, are you willing to send your Aiel against Aes Sedai? Six of them. A hundred thousand Aiel would give them pause though.” The number coming out of his mouth made him blink — ten thousand men was a not inconsiderable army — but those were the numbers Rand had spoken of, and what Perrin had seen of the Aiel camp in the hills made him believe. To his surprise, Rhuarc smelled hesitant.

“So many are not possible,” the clan chief said slowly, and paused before going on. “Runners came this morning. The Shaido are moving south from Kinslayer’s Dagger in force, into the heart of Cairhien. I may have enough to stop them — they do not all seem to be coming — but if I take so many spears out of this land, all that we have done will have to be redone. At the least, the Shaido will have looted this city long before we return. Who can say how far they will have gone, into other lands even, and how many carried off claiming they are gai’shain.” A strong odor of contempt came from him at that last, but Perrin understood none of it. What did it matter how much land had to be reconquered — or even how many people died, though that thought came reluctantly, painfully — stacked against Rand, the Dragon Reborn, being taken prisoner to Tar Valon?