The Gathering Storm

Egwene gripped the scrape in one hand, slowly reaching down with the other to grab the brush she'd been using to scoop up ash. Then she spun.

Laras froze, peeking into the fireplace. The Mistress of Kitchens wore a large white apron, stained with a few soot marks itself. Her pudgy round face had seen its share of winters; her hair was starting to gray, and lines creased the sides of her eyes. Leaning over as she was, her jowls formed a second, third and fourth chin, and she gripped the side of the fireplace opening with a thick-fingered hand.

Egwene relaxed. Why had she been so certain that someone had been sneaking up on her? It was just Laras coming to check on her.

Yet why had the woman moved so silently? Laras glanced to the side, eyes narrowing. Then she raised a finger to her lips. Egwene felt herself tense again. What was going on?

Laras backed out of the fireplace, waving for Egwene to follow. The Mistress of Kitchens moved on light feet, far quieter than Egwene would have thought possible. Assistant cooks and scullions clanged away in other parts of the kitchen, but none were directly visible. Egwene crept free of the fireplace, tucking the scrape into her belt and wiping her hands on her dress. She pulled the cloth free from her face, breathing sweet, soot-free air. She took a deep breath, and received a harsh glare from Laras, followed by another finger to the lips.

Egwene nodded, following Laras through the kitchens. In a few moments she and Egwene stood in a pantry, thick with the scent of dried grains and aging cheeses. The tiles gave way to more durable brickwork here. Laras shoved aside a few sacks, then pulled open a piece of the floor. It was a wooden trapdoor, capped with shaved brickwork on the top to make it seem part of the floor. It revealed a small, rock-walled chamber underneath the pantry, large enough to hold a person, though a tall man would be cramped.

"You wait here until night," Laras said in a low voice. "I can't get you out right now, not with the Tower fluttery as a yard full of hens when the fox is about. But the garbage goes out late at night, and I'll hide you among the girls who unload it. A dockworker will take you to a small boat and row you across the river. I have some friends among the guard; they'll turn the other way. Once you reach the other side, it's up to you what you do. I'd advise against going back to those fools who made you their puppet. Find some place to lie low until this all blows over, then come back and see if whoever's in charge will take you in. Isn't likely it will be Elaida, the way things are going. . . ."

Egwene blinked in surprise.

"Well," the heavyset woman said. "In you go."

"No time for jabbering!" Laras said, as if she weren't the one doing all of the talking. She was obviously nervous, the way she kept glancing about and tapping her foot. But she'd obviously also done this sort of thing before. Why was the simple cook in the White Tower so skilled at sneaking, so handy with a plan to get Egwene out of the fortified and besieged city? And why did she have a bolt-hole in the kitchens in the first place? Light! How had she created it?

"Don't worry about me," Laras said, eyeing Egwene. "I can handle myself. I'll keep all of the kitchen servants away from where you were working. Those Aes Sedai only check on you every half-hour or so—and since they just checked a minute ago, it will be a while before they look in again. When they do check, I can plead ignorance and everyone will assume you slipped out of the kitchens. We'll soon have you out of the city and nobody will be the wiser."

"Yes," Egwene said, finally finding her tongue, "but why?" She had assumed that, after helping Min and Siuan, Laras wouldn't be eager to help another fugitive.

Laras looked back at her, in the woman's eyes a determination as hard as any Aes Sedai's. Egwene certainly had overlooked this woman! Who was she really?

"I won't be a party to the breaking of a girl's spirit," Laras said sternly. "Those beatings are shameful! Fool Aes Sedai. I've served loyally these years, I have, but now they've told me that you're to be worked as hard as I can push you, indefinitely. Well, I can see when a girl has moved away from being instructed and into being beaten down. I won't have it, not in my kitchens. Light burn Elaida for thinking she could do such a thing! Execute you or make you a novice, I don't care. But this breaking is unacceptable!"

The woman stood, setting hands on hips, a puff of flour rising from her apron. Oddly, Egwene found herself considering the offer. She'd denied Siuan s offer to save her, but if she fled now, she would return to the rebel camp having freed herself. That would be far superior to being rescued. She could get away from all this, away from the beatings, away from the drudgery.

To do what? To sit on the outside and watch the Tower collapse?

"No," she said to Laras. "Your offer is very kind, but I can't take it. I'm sorry."

Laras frowned. "Now, you listen—"

"Laras," Egwene interrupted, "one does not take that tone with an Aes Sedai, no matter that one is the Mistress of Kitchens."

Laras hesitated. "Fool girl. You ain't Aes Sedai."

"Accept it or not, I still can't go. Unless you intend to try stuffing me into that hole yourself—gagging and tying me to keep me from crying out, followed by escorting me across the river in person—then I suggest letting me return to my work."

"But why?"

"Because," Egwene said, glancing back at the fireplace. "Someone has to fight her."

"You can't fight like this," Laras said.

"Each day is a battle," Egwene said. "Each day I refuse to bend means something. Even if Elaida and her Reds are the only ones who know it, that's something. A small something, but more than I could do from the outside. Come. I've still got two hours of work left."

She turned and began to walk back toward the fireplace. A reluctant Laras closed the hatch on her hidden chamber, then joined her. The woman made much more noise now as she walked, brushing against counters, her footfalls sounding on the bricks. Curious how she'd been able to be so quiet when she wanted to.

A flash of red cloth, like the blood of a dead rabbit in the snow, moved through the kitchens. Egwene froze as Katerine, wearing a dress with crimson skirts and yellow trim, spotted her. The Red's mouth was thin-lipped, her eyes narrow. Had she seen Egwene and Laras walk off?

Laras froze.

"I see now what I was doing wrong," Egwene quickly said to the Mistress of Kitchens, eyeing a second hearth, which lay near where they had been standing in the pantry. "Thank you for showing it to me. I'll be more careful now."

"See that you are," Laras said, shaking out of her shock. "Otherwise, you'll see what a real punishment is like, not those halfhearted paddlings the Mistress of Novices gives. Now back to work with you."