Semirhage flinched suddenly, and Sorilea cocked her head. The Forsaken was not floating this time; she stood upright, wearing the stiff brown dress, her short, dark hair tangled from lack of brushing. She still projected superiority and control. Just as Cadsuane herself would have in a similar situation.
"What are these weaves?" Sorilea asked, gesturing. The weaves in question were the source of Semirhage's occasional flinching.
"A personal trick of mine," Cadsuane said, undoing the weaves and remaking them to show how they were done. "They ring a sound in your subjects' ears every few minutes and flash a light in their eyes, keeping them from sleep."
"You hope to make her so fatigued that she will talk," Sorilea said, studying the Forsaken again.
Semirhage was warded to keep her from hearing them, of course. Despite two days without decent sleep, the woman wore a serene expression, eyes open but blocked by glowing lights. She had likely mastered some kind of mental trick to help her stave off exhaustion.
"I doubt it will break her," Cadsuane admitted. "Phaw! It barely even makes her flinch." She, Sorilea and Bair—an aged Wise One with no channeling ability—were the only ones in the room. The Aes Sedai maintaining Semirhage's shield sat in their places outside.
Sorilea nodded. "One of the Shadowsouled will not be manipulated so easily. Still, you are wise to try, considering your . . . limitations."
"We could speak to the Car'a'cam" Bair said. "Convince him to turn this one over to us for a time. A few days of... delicate Aiel questioning and she would speak whatever you wish."
Cadsuane smiled noncommittally. As if she would let another handle the questioning! This woman's secrets were too valuable to risk, even in the hands of allies. "Well, you are welcome to ask," she said, "but I doubt al'Thor will listen. You know how the fool boy can be when it comes to hurting women."
Bair sighed. It was odd to think of this grandmotherly lady engaging in "delicate Aiel questioning."
"Yes," She said. "You are right, I suspect. Rand al'Thor is twice as stubborn as any clan chief I've known. And twice as arrogant too. To presume that women cannot bear pain as well as men!"
Cadsuane snorted at that. "To be honest, I considered having this one strung up and whipped, al'Thor's prohibitions be blackened! But I don't think it would work. Phaw! We'll need to find something other than pain to break this one."
Sorilea was still regarding Semirhage. "I would speak with her."
Cadsuane made a motion, dismissing the weaves that kept Semirhage from hearing, seeing or speaking. The woman blinked—just once—to clear her vision, then turned to Sorilea and Bair. "Ah," she said. "Aiel. You were such good servants, once. Tell me, how strongly does it bite, knowing how you betrayed your oaths? Your ancestors would cry for punishment if they knew how many deaths lay at the hands of their descendants."
Sorilea gave no reaction. Cadsuane knew some tidbits of what al'Thor had revealed about the Aiel, things that had been said at second or third hand. Al'Thor claimed that the Aiel had once followed the Way of the Leaf, sworn not to do harm, before betraying their oaths. Cadsuane had been interested to learn of these rumors, and she was more interested to hear Semirhage corroborating them.
"She seems so much more human than I had anticipated," Sorilea said to Bair. "Her expressions, her tone, her accent, while strange, are easy to understand. I had not expected that."
Semirhage's eyes narrowed for just a moment at that comment. Odd. That was a stronger reaction than virtually any of the punishments had produced. The flashes of light and sound prompted only slight involuntary twitches. This comment of Sorilea's, however, seemed to affect Semirhage on an emotional level. Would the Wise Ones actually succeed so easily where Cadsuane had long failed?
"I think this is what we need to remember," Bair said. "A woman is just a woman, no matter how old, no matter what secrets she remembers. Flesh can be cut, blood can be spilled, bones can be broken."
"In truth, I feel almost disappointed, Cadsuane Melaidhrin," Sorilea said, shaking a white-haired head. "This monster has very small fangs."
Semirhage reacted no further. Her control was back, her face serene, her eyes imperious. "I have heard some little of you new, oathless Aiel and your interpretations of honor. I will very much enjoy investigating how much pain and suffering it will require before members of your clans will shame themselves. Tell me, how far do you think I would have to push before one of you would kill a blacksmith and dine on his flesh?"
She knew more than "some little" if she understood the near-sacred nature of blacksmiths among the Aiel. Sorilea stiffened at the comment, but let it go. She rewove the ward against listening, then paused, and placed the globes of light in front of Semirhage's eyes as well. Yes, she was weak in the Power, but she was a very quick learner.
"Is it wise to keep her like this?" Sorilea asked, her tone implying that of any other she would have made a demand. For Cadsuane, she softened her words, and it almost brought a smile to Cadsuane's lips. They were like two aged hawks, Sorilea and she, accustomed to roosting and reigning, now forced to nest in neighboring trees. Deference did not come easily to either one of them.
"If I were to choose," Sorilea continued, "I think that I would have her throat slit and her corpse laid out on the dust to dry. Keeping her alive is like keeping a snapwood blacklance as a pet."
"Phaw!" Cadsuane said, grimacing. "You're right about the danger, but killing her now would be worse. Al'Thor cannot—or will not—give me an accurate count of the number of Forsaken he has slain, but he implies that at least half of them still live. They'll be there to fight at the Last Battle, and each weave we learn from Semirhage is one fewer they can use to surprise us."
Sorilea did not seem convinced, but she pressed the issue no further. "And the item?" she asked. "May I see it?"
Cadsuane almost snapped a no. But . . . Sorilea had taught Cadsuane Traveling, an incredibly powerful tool. That had been an offering, a hand extended. Cadsuane needed to work with these women, Sorilea most of all. Al'Thor was a bigger project than one woman could handle.
"Come with me," Cadsuane said, leaving the wooden room. The Wise Ones followed. Outside, Cadsuane instructed the sisters—Daigian and Sarene—to make certain that Semirhage was kept awake, eyes open. It was unlikely to work, but it was the best strategy Cadsuane had at the moment.
Though . . . she did also have Semirhage's momentary look, that hint of anger, displayed at Sorilea's comment. When you could control a person's anger, you could control their other emotions as well. That was why she had focused so hard on teaching al'Thor to rein in his temper.
nodded, joining Gawyn as he walked. "Light knows we need them for watchful scouts now," he agreed. Bryne's own scouts had been investigating villages not half a day's ride from Dorian. "I'll get you an escort."
"Not needed," Gawyn said. "Last time, Outpost Four saw me coming from a good half a mile. A squad raises too much dust. I want to see how keen their eyes are when it's just one rider."