The Gathering Storm

He met her gaze. Light! What had happened to him? She struggled to collect her thoughts. "So Semirhage is dead?"

"Worse than dead," al'Thor said. "And far better off, in many ways, I should think."

"Well, then. I suppose we can get on with—"

"Do you recognize that, Cadsuane?" al'Thor said, nodding toward something metallic sitting on the bed, mostly hidden by the sheets.

Hesitantly she walked forward. Sorilea looked over, expression unreadable. Apparently, she didn't wish to be drawn into the conversation when al'Thor was in such a mood. Cadsuane didn't blame her.

Cadsuane pulled back the sheets, revealing a familiar pair of bracelets. There was no collar.

"Impossible," she whispered.

"That is what I assumed," al'Thor said in that terribly calm voice of his. "I told myself that it obviously couldn't be one of the same ter'angreal I relinquished to you. You promised they would be protected and hidden."

"Well, then," Cadsuane said, unnerved. She covered the things back up. "That is settled then."

"It is. I sent people to your room. Tell me, is this box where you were keeping the bracelets? We found it open on the floor of your quarters."

A Maiden brought out a familiar oak box. It was the same one, obviously. Cadsuane turned toward him in anger. "You searched my room!"

"I was unaware that you were visiting the Wise Ones," al'Thor said. He gave a small nod of respect to Sorilea and Amys, which they hesitantly returned. "I sent servants to check on you, as I feared that Semirhage might have tried for revenge on you."

"They shouldn't have touched this," Cadsuane said, taking the box from the Maiden. "It was prepared with very intricate wards."

"Not intricate enough," al'Thor said, turning away from her. He still stood by that darkened window, looking out over the camp.

The room fell silent. Narishma had been asking quietly after Min's health, but he fell silent when al'Thor stopped speaking. Rand obviously felt that Cadsuane was responsible for the male a'dam being stolen, but that was preposterous. She had prepared the best ward she knew, but who knew what knowledge the Forsaken had for getting past wards?

How had al'Thor survived? And what of the other contents of that box? Did al'Thor now have the access key, or had the statuette been taken by Semirhage? Did Cadsuane dare ask? The silence continued. "What are you waiting for?" she finally asked with all the bravado she could summon. "Do you expect an apology from me?"

"From you?" al'Thor asked. There was no humor in his voice, just the same cold evenness. "No, I suspect that I could sooner extract an apology from a stone than from you."

"Then—"

"You are exiled from my sight, Cadsuane," he said softly. "If I see your face again after tonight, I will kill you."

"Rand, no!" Min said, standing up beside the bed. He didn't turn toward her.

Cadsuane felt an immediate stab of panic, but shoved it aside with her anger. "What?" she demanded. "This is foolishness, boy. I. . . ."

He turned, and again that gaze of his made her trail off. There was a danger to it, a shadowy cast to his eyes that struck her with more fear than she'd thought her aging heart could summon. As she watched, the air around him seemed to warp, and she could almost think that the room had grown darker.

"But. . . ." She found herself stuttering. "But you don't kill women. Everyone knows it. You can hardly put the Maidens into danger for fear of them getting hurt!"

"I have been forced to revise that particular inclination," al'Thor said. "As of tonight."

"But—"

"Cadsuane," he said softly, "do you believe that I could kill you? Right here, right now, without using a sword or the Power? Do you believe that if I simply willed it, the Pattern would bend around me and stop your heart? By ... coincidence?"

Being ta'veren didn't work that way. Light! It didn't, did it? He couldn't bend the very Pattern to his will, could he?

And yet, meeting his eyes, she did believe. Against all logic, she looked in those eyes and knew that if she didn't leave, she would die.

She nodded slowly, hating herself, strangely weak.

He turned away from her, looking back out the window. "Be certain that I do not see your face. Ever again, Cadsuane. You may go now."