Silviana s lips drew back in a line. She turned and made a notation in her book. "I will see you in the morning. Off to dinner with you."
The morning punishment would be because Egwene had called the Mistress of Novices by her name without adding the honorific "Sedai" to the end. And likely because both knew that Egwene would not curtsy before she left.
"I will return in the morning," Egwene said, "but dinner must wait. I have been ordered to attend Elaida this evening as she eats." This session with Silviana had gone long—Egwene had brought quite a list of infractions with her—and now she wouldn't have time to eat. Her stomach complained at the prospect.
aid we could die, Lews Therin said in the back of his mind. You promised!
Cadsuane said nothing as she walked across the room, helping herself to a cup of the spiced wine that sat on a small serving table beside the bed. Then she sat down in one of the red cedar chairs. At least she hadn't demanded that he pour the wine for her. That sort of thing wasn't beyond her.
"Well, what did you learn?" he asked, walking from the window and pouring himself a cup of wine as well. Min walked to the bed—with its frame of cedar logs and a skip-peeled headboard stained deeply reddish brown—and sat down, hands in her lap. She watched Alivia carefully.
Cadsuane raised an eyebrow at the sharpness in Rand's voice. He sighed, forcing down his annoyance. He had asked her to be his counselor, and he had agreed to her stipulations. Min said there was something important he would need to learn from Cadsuane—that was another viewing— and in truth, he had found her advice useful on more than one occasion. She was worth her constant demands for decorum.
"How did the questioning go, Cadsuane Sedai?" he asked in a more moderate tone.
She smiled to herself. "Well enough."
"Well enough?" Nynaeve snapped. She had made no promises to Cadsuane about civility. "That woman is infuriating!"
Cadsuane sipped her wine. "I wonder what else one could expect from one of the Forsaken, child. She has had a great deal of time to practice being . . . infuriating."
"Rand, that . . . creature is a stone," Nynaeve said, turning to him. "She's yielded barely a single useful sentence despite days of questioning! All she does is explain how inferior and backward we are, with the occasional aside that she's eventually going to kill us all." Nynaeve reached up to her long, single braid—but stopped herself short of tugging on it. She was getting better about that. Rand wondered why she bothered, considering how obvious her temper was.
"For all the girl's dramatic talk," Cadsuane said, nodding to Nynaeve, "she has a reasonable grasp on the situation. Phaw! When I said 'well enough' you were to interpret it as 'as well as you might expect, given our unfortunate constraints.' One cannot blindfold an artist, then be surprised when he has nothing to paint."
"This isn't art, Cadsuane," Rand said dryly. "It's torture." Min shared a glance with him, and he felt her concern. Concern for him? He wasn't the one being tortured.
The box, Lews Therin whispered. We should have died in the box. Then . . . then it would be over.
Cadsuane sipped her wine. Rand hadn't tasted his—he already knew that the spices were so strong as to render the drink unpalatable. Better that than the alternative.
"You press us for results, boy," Cadsuane said. "And yet you deny us the tools we need to get them. Whether you name it torture, questioning, or baking, I call it foolishness. Now, if we were allowed to—"
"No!" Rand growled, waving a hand ... a stump ... at her. "You will not threaten or hurt her."
Time spent in a dark box, being pulled forth and being beaten repeatedly. He would not have a woman in his power treated the same way. Not even one of the Forsaken. "You may question her, but some things I will not allow."
Nynaeve sniffed. "Rand, she's one of the Forsaken, dangerous beyond reason!"
"I am aware of the threat," Rand said flatly, holding up the stump where his left hand had been. The metallic gold and red tattoo of a dragon's body sparkled in the lamplight. Its head had been consumed in the Fire that had nearly killed him.
Nynaeve took a deep breath. "Yes, well, then you must see that normal rules shouldn't apply to her!"
"I said no!" Rand said. "You will question her, but you will not hurt her!" Not a woman. I will keep to this one shred of light inside me. I've caused the deaths and sorrows of too many women already.
"If that is what you demand, boy," Cadsuane said tersely, "then that is what shall be done. Just don't whine when we are unable to drag out of her what she had for breakfast yesterday, let alone the locations of the other Forsaken. One begins to wonder why you insist we continue this farce at all. Perhaps we should simply turn her over to the White Tower and be done with it."
Rand turned away. Outside, the soldiers had finished with the horse-lines. They looked good. Even and straight, the animals given just the right amount of slack.
Turn her over to the White Tower? That would never happen. Cadsuane wouldn't let Semirhage out of her grip until she got the answers she wanted. The wind still blew outside, his own banners flapping before his eyes.
"Turn her over to the White Tower, you say?" he said, glancing back into the room. "Which White Tower? Would you entrust her to Elaida? Or did you mean the others? I doubt that Egwene would be pleased if I dropped one of the Forsaken in her lap. Egwene might just let Semirhage go and take me captive instead. Force me to kneel before the White Tower's justice and gentle me just to give her another notch in her belt."
Nynaeve frowned. "Rand! Egwene would never—"
"She's Amyrlin," he said, downing his cup of wine in one gulp. It was as putrid as he recalled. "Aes Sedai to the core. I'm just another pawn to her."
Yes, Lews Therin said. We need to stay away from all of them. They refused to help us, you know. Refused! Said my plan was too reckless. That left me with only the Hundred Companions, no women to form a circle. Traitors! This is their fault. But. . . but I'm the one who killed Hyena. Why?