She arrived at Bennae's door, but hesitated there. Most sisters agreed to train Egwene only when forced into the duty, and the experience was often unpleasant. Some of Egwene's teachers disliked her because of her affiliation with the rebels, others were annoyed by how easily she could craft weaves, and still others were infuriated to find that she would not show them respect like a novice.
These "lessons," however, had been among Egwene's best chances to sow seeds against Elaida. She'd planted one of those during her first visit with Bennae. Had it begun to sprout?
Egwene knocked, and then entered at the call to come in. The sitting room inside was cluttered with the refuse of scholarship. Stacks and stacks of books—like miniature city towers—leaned against one another. Skeletons of various creatures were mounted in various states of construction; the woman owned enough bones to populate a menagerie. Egwene shivered when she noticed a full human skeleton in the corner, held upright and bound together with threads, some detailed notations written directly on the bones in black ink.
There was barely room to walk and only one clear place to sit— Bennae's own stuffed chair, the armrests worn with a twin set of depressions, doubtless where the Brown's arms had rested during countless late-night reading sessions. The low ceiling felt lower for the several mummified fowl and astronomical contraptions which hung above. Egwene had to duck her head beneath a model of the sun in order to reach the place where Bennae stood rifling through a stack of leather-bound volumes.
"Ah," she said as she noticed Egwene. "Good." Slender in a bony sort of way, she had dark hair that was streaked with gray from age. The hair was in a bun, and she—like many Browns—wore a simple dress that hadn't been fashionable for a century or two.
Bennae moved over to her stuffed sitting chair, ignoring the stiffer chairs by the hearth—both of those had accumulated stacks of papers since Egwene's previous visit. Egwene cleared off a stool, placing the dusty skeleton of a rat on the floor between two stacks of books about the reign of Artur Hawkwing.
"Well, I suppose we should get on with your instruction, then," Bennae said, settling back in her chair.
Egwene kept her face calm. Had Bennae requested an opportunity to train Egwene again? Or had she been forced into it? Egwene could see an unsophisticated Brown sister getting repeatedly roped into a duty that nobody else wanted.
At Bennae's request, Egwene performed a number of weaves, work far beyond the skill of most novices but easy for Egwene, even with her power dampened by forkroot. She tried to tease out the Brown's feelings on the relocation of her quarters, but Bennae—like most of the Browns Egwene had spoken to—preferred to avoid that topic.
Egwene did some more weaves. After a time, she wondered just what the point of the meeting was. Hadn't Bennae asked her to demonstrate most of these very same weaves during her previous visit?
"Very well," Bennae said, getting herself a cup of tea from a pot warming on a small coal brazier. She didn't offer any tea to Egwene. "You are skilled enough at that. But I wonder. Do you have the sharpness of mind, the ability to deal with difficult situations, that an Aes Sedai is required to have?"
Egwene said nothing, though she did pointedly pour herself some tea. Bennae did not object.
"Let's see ..." Bennae mused. "Suppose that you were in a situation where you were in conflict with some members of your own Ajah. You have happened upon information you weren't supposed to know, and your Ajah's leaders are quite upset with you. Suddenly, you find yourself being sentenced to some most unpleasant duties, as if they are trying to sweep you under the rug and forget about you. Tell me, in this situation, how would you react?"
Egwene almost choked on her tea. The Brown wasn't very subtle. She had begun asking about the Thirteenth Depository, had she? And that had landed her in trouble? Few were supposed to know about the secret histories that Egwene had mentioned so casually during her previous visit here.
"Well," Egwene said, sipping her tea, "let me approach it with a clear mind. Best to view it from the perspective of the Ajah's leaders, I should think."
Bennae frowned faintly. "I suppose."
"Now, in this situation you describe, can we assume that these secrets have been entrusted to the Ajah for safekeeping? Ah, good. Well, from their perspective, important and careful plans have been upset. Think of how it must look. Someone has learned secrets they should not. That whispers of a disturbing leak somewhere among your most trusted members."
Bennae paled. "I suppose I could see that."
ot only was he a wetlander by birth, he was not a Wise One. Few Aiel themselves saw the work the Wise Ones did in a dozen different areas. How simple life had seemed when she had been a Maiden! It would have dazzled her to know how much went on beyond her sight.
Melaine stared blindly at the broken building. "A remnant of a remnant," she said, as if to herself. "And if he leaves us burned and broken, like those boards? What will become of the Aiel then? Do we limp back to the Three-fold Land and continue as we did before? Many will not want to leave. These lands offer too much."
Aviendha blinked at the weight of those words. She had rarely given thought to what would happen after the Car'a'carn was finished with them. She was centered on the now, upon regaining her honor and being there to protect Rand al'Thor at the Last Battle. But a Wise One could not just think of the now or the tomorrow. She had to think of the years ahead and the times that would be brought upon the winds.
A remnant of a remnant. He had broken the Aiel as a people. What would become of them?
Melaine glanced back at Aviendha, her face softening. "Go to the tents, child, and rest. You look like a sharadan that has crawled on his belly across three days of sand."
Aviendha looked down at her arms, seeing the flakes of ash from the burnings. Her clothing was soaked and stained, and she suspected that her face was just as filthy. Her arms ached from carrying the stones all day. Once she acknowledged the fatigue, it seemed to crash upon her like a windstorm. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to remain upright. She would not shame herself by collapsing! But she did turn to leave, as instructed.
"Oh, and Aviendha," Melaine called. "We will discuss your punishment tomorrow."
She turned in shock.
"For not finishing with the stones," Melaine said, surveying the wreckage again. "And for not learning quickly enough. Go."
Aviendha sighed. Another round of questions, and another undeserved punishment. There was a correlation of some sort. But what?
She was too exhausted to think about it for now. All she wanted was her bed, and she found herself treacherously recalling the soft, luxurious mattresses back in the palace of Caemlyn. She forced those thoughts out of her mind. Sleep that soundly, muffled in pillows and down comforters, and you'd be too relaxed to wake if someone tried to kill you in the night! How had she let Elayne convince her to sleep in one of those soft-feathered death traps?
Another thought occurred to her as she pushed that one away—a treacherous one. A thought of Rand al'Thor, resting in his room. She could go to him. . . .