Lelaine sniffed. "I'm not certain any man can be trusted without direction."
"I hate doing his laundry," Siuan said. Well, she did. Even if she wouldn't be stopped from doing it for all of the gold in Tar Valon. "But if the duty keeps me close, with a listening ear. . . ."
"Yes," Lelaine said, nodding slowly. "Yes, I see that you are right. I will not forget your sacrifice, Siuan. Very well, you are dismissed."
Lelaine turned, glancing down at her hand, as if longing for something. Probably wishing for the day when—as Amyrlin—she could offer her Great Serpent ring for a kiss when she parted ways with another sister. Light, but Egwene needed to return soon. Buttered silverpike! Buttered, flaming silverpike!
Siuan made her way toward the edge of the Aes Sedai camp. Bryne's army surrounded the Aes Sedai camp in a large ring, but she was on the far side of the ring from Bryne. It would take a good half-hour to walk to his command post. Fortunately, she found a wagon driver who was taking a load of supplies, brought through a gateway, to the army. The short, grizzled man immediately agreed to let her ride with the turnips, though he did seem puzzled why she didn't go get a horse, as befitted an Aes Sedai's station. Well, it wasn't that far, and riding with vegetables was a iate far less undignified than being forced to jounce around on the back of a horse. If Gareth Bryne wanted to complain about her tardiness, then he'd get an earful, he would!
She settled back against a lumpy sack of turnips, brown-skirted legs hanging over the back of the wagon. As the cart rolled up a slight incline, she could see over the Aes Sedai camp—with its white tents and citylike organization. Ringed around it was the army, with smaller tents in neat straight lines, and ringed around them was a growing ring of camp followers.
Beyond it all, the landscape was brown, the winter snows melted, but spring sprouts scarce. The countryside was pocketed with thickets of scrub oak; shadows in valleys and twisting lines of chimney smoke pointed to distant villages. It was surprising how familiar, how welcome, these grasslands felt. When she had first come to the White Tower, she'd been sure she'd never come to love this landlocked countryside.
Now she had lived much more of her life in Tar Valon than she had in Tear. It was difficult at times to recall that girl who had sewn nets and gone on early-morning trawling trips with her father. She'd become something else, a woman who traded in secrets rather than fish.
Secrets, those powerful, dominating secrets. They had become her life. No love save for youthful dalliances. No time for entanglements, or much room for friendships. She'd focused on only one thing: finding the Dragon Reborn. Helping him, guiding him, hopefully controlling him.
Moiraine had died following that same quest, but at least she had been able to go out and see the world. Siuan had grown old—in spirit, if not in body—cooped up in the Tower, pulling her strings and nudging the world. She'd done some good. Time would tell if those efforts had been enough.
She didn't regret her life. Yet, at this moment, passing army tents— holes and broken ruts in the path shaking the cart, making it rattle like dried fishbones in a kettle—she envied Moiraine. How often had Siuan bothered to look out of her window toward the beautiful green landscape, before it all had started going sickly? She and Moiraine had fought so hard to save this world, but they had left themselves without anything to enjoy in it.
Perhaps Siuan had made a mistake in staying with the Blue, unlike Leane, who had taken the opportunity in their stilling and Healing to change to the Green Ajah. No, Siuan thought, wagon rattling, smelling of bitter turnips. No, I'm still focused on saving this blasted world. There would be no switching to the Green for her. Though, thinking of Bryne, she did wish that the Blue were a little more like the Green in certain ways.
Siuan the Amyrlin hadn't had any time for entanglements, but what of Siuan the attendant? Guiding people with quiet manipulations required a lot more skill than bullying them with the power of the Amyrlin Seat, and it was proving more fulfilling. But it also left her without the crushing weight of responsibility she'd felt during her years leading the White Tower. Was there, perhaps, room in her life for a few more changes?
The wagon reached the far side of the army camp, and she shook her head at her own foolishness as she hopped down, then nodded her thanks to the wagon driver. Was she a girl, barely old enough for her first full-day blackfish trawl? There was no use in thinking of Bryne that way. At least not right now. There was too much to do.
She walked along the perimeter of the camp, army tents to her left. It was growing dark, and lanterns burning precious oil illuminated disorganized shanties and tents to her right. Ahead of her, a small circular palisade rose on the army side. It didn't enclose the entire army—in fact, it was only big enough for several dozen officer tents and some larger command tents. It was to act as a fortification in an emergency, but always as a center of operations—Bryne felt it good to have a physical barrier separating the larger camp from the place where he held conference with his officers. With the confusion of the civilian camp, and with such a long border to patrol, it would be too easy for spies to approach his tents otherwise.
The palisade was only about three-quarters done, but work was progressing quickly. Perhaps he would choose to surround the entire army, eventually, if the siege continued long enough. For now, Bryne felt that the small, fortified command post would not only suggest security to the soldiers, but also lend them a sense of authority.
The eight-foot wooden stakes rose from the ground ahead, a line of sentinels standing side by side, points raised to the sky. While holding a siege one generally had a lot of manpower for work like this. The guards at the palisade gate knew to let her pass, and she quickly made her way to Bryne's tent. She did have washing to do, but most of it would probably have to wait until the morning. She was supposed to meet Egwene in Tel'aran'rhiod as soon as it grew dark, and the glow of the sunset was already beginning to fade.
Bryne's tent, as usual, shone with only a very faint light. While people outside squandered their oil, he scrimped. Most of his men lived better than he did. Fool man. Siuan pushed her way into the tent without calling.
If he was foolish enough to change without going behind the screen, then he was foolish enough to be seen doing it.
He was seated at his desk working by the light of a solitary candle. He appeared to be reading scout reports.
Siuan sniffed, letting the tent flaps droop closed behind her. Not a single lamp! That man! "You will ruin your eyes reading by such poor light, Gareth Bryne."
"I have read by the light of a single candle for most of my life, Siuan," he said, turning over a page and not looking up. "And I'll have you know that my eyesight is the same as it was when I was a boy."
"Oh?" Siuan said. "So you're saying that your eyesight was poor to begin with?"
Bryne grinned, but continued his reading. Siuan sniffed again, loudly, to make sure he heard. Then she wove a globe of light and sent it hovering over beside his desk. Fool man. She wouldn't have him going so blind he fell in battle to an attack he didn't see. After setting the light beside his head—perhaps too close for him to be comfortable with it without scooting over—she walked over to pluck clothing off the drying line she'd strung across the center of the tent. He'd voiced no complaint about her using the inside of his tent for drying laundry, and hadn't taken it down. That was a disappointment. She'd been anticipating chastising him for that.
"A woman from the camp outside approached me today," Bryne said, shifting his chair to the side, then picking up another stack of pages. "She offered me laundry service. She's organizing a group of washwomen in the camp, and she claimed that she could do my wash more quickly and effectively than a single distracted maidservant could."
Siuan froze, sparing a glance at Bryne, who was looking through his papers. His strong jaw was lit on the left by the even white light of her globe and on the right by the flickering orange candlelight. Some men were made weak by age, others were made to look tired or slovenly. Bryne had simply become distinguished, like a pillar, crafted by a master stonemason, then left to the elements. Age hadn't reduced Bryne's effectiveness or his strength. It had simply given him character, dusting his temples with silver, creasing his firm face with lines of wisdom.
"And what did you tell this woman?" she asked.
Bryne turned a page over. "I told her that I was satisfied with my laundry." He looked up at her. "I have to say, Siuan, that I'm surprised. I had assumed that an Aes Sedai would know little of work such as this, but rarely have my uniforms known such a perfect combination of stiffness and comfort. You are to be commended."
Siuan turned away from him, hiding her blush. Fool man! She had caused kings to kneel before her! She manipulated the Aes Sedai and planned for the deliverance of mankind itself! And he complimented her on her laundering skills?
The thing was, from Bryne, that was an honest and meaningful compliment. He didn't look down on washwomen, or on runner boys. He treated all with equity. A person didn't gain stature in Gareth Bryne's eyes by being a king or queen; one gained stature by keeping to one's oaths and doing one's duty. To him, a compliment on laundry well done was as meaningful as a medal awarded to a soldier who had stood his ground before the enemy.