"But—"
"I gave my word, Gawyn."
"And how many deaths is that word worth? Assaulting the White Tower would be a disaster. No matter how slighted these rebel Aes Sedai may feel, there will be no reconciliation if it happens by the sword."
"That's not our decision," Bryne said. He glanced at Gawyn, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"What?" Gawyn asked.
"I'm wondering why it matters to you. I thought you were just here for Egwene."
"I. . . ." Gawyn floundered.
"Who are you, Gawyn Trakand?" Bryne asked, prodding further. "What are you your allegiances, really?"
"You know me better than most, Gareth."
"I know who you were supposed to be," Bryne said. "First Prince of the Sword, trained by Warders but bonded to no woman."
"And that's not what I am?" Gawyn asked testily.
"Peace, son," Bryne said. "This wasn't meant to be an insult. Just an observation. I know you were never as single-minded as your brother. I suppose I should have seen this in you."
Gawyn turned toward the aging general. What was the man talking about?
Bryne sighed. "It's a thing most soldiers never face, Gawyn. Oh, they may consider it, but they don't let it torment them. This question is for someone else, someone higher up."
"What question?" Gawyn asked, perplexed.
"Choosing a side," Bryne said. "And, once you've picked one, deciding if you made the right decision. The foot soldiers don't have to make this choice, but those of us who lead . . . yes, I can see it in you. That skill of yours with the sword is no small gift. Where do you use it?"
"For Elayne," Gawyn said quickly.
"As you do now?" Bryne asked with amusement.
"Well, once I save Egwene."
"And if Egwene won't go?" Bryne asked. "I know that look in your eyes, lad. I also know some small bit about Egwene al'Vere. She won't leave this battlefield until a victor has been chosen."
ways, a novice in white waited outside the tent to escort him from the inner camp. This time the novice was a short, plump woman who looked more than a few years too old to have taken up the white.
Gawyn allowed the woman to lead him through the Aes Sedai camp, trying to pretend that she was just a guide, rather than a guard to see that he left as instructed. Bryne was right; the women did not like unnecessary bodies—soldiers in particular—wandering around their neat little imitation White Tower of a village. He passed bustling groups of white-clad women crossing walkways, watching him with the faint distrust the friendliest of people often gave an outsider. He passed Aes Sedai, universally self-assured whether they wore rich silk or stiff wool. He passed some groups of worker women, far more neat than those out in the soldier camp. They walked with an almost Aes Sedai air themselves, as if they gained a measure of authority by being allowed into the real camp.
All these groups crisscrossed through an open square of trampled weeds that formed the common area. The most confusing thing he had discovered in this camp had to do with Egwene. More and more, he was coming to realize that the people here really did see her as Amyrlin. She wasn't simply a decoy set up to draw ire, nor was she a calculated insult, meant to rile Elaida. Egwene was Amyrlin to them.
Obviously, she had been chosen because the rebels wanted someone easy to control. But they didn't treat her as a puppet—both Lelaine and Romanda spoke of her with respect. There was an advantage to Egwene's absence, since it created a void of power. Therefore, they accepted Egwene as a source of authority. Was he the only one who remembered that she'd been an Accepted just months ago?
She was in over her head. However, she'd also impressed the people in this camp. It was like his mother's own rise to power in Andor many years before.
But why did she refuse to allow a rescue? Traveling had been rediscovered—from what he'd heard, Egwene herself had rediscovered it! He needed to talk to her. Then he could judge if her unwillingness to escape came from a fear of putting others in danger, or if it was something else.
He unhobbled Challenge from the post at the border between Aes Sedai and army camps, nodded farewell to his novice handler, then swung into the saddle, checking the position of the sun. He turned his mount east along a pathway between army tents, and set out in a quick trot. He hadn't been lying when he'd told Lelaine he had another appointment; he'd promised to meet Bryne. Of course, Gawyn had set up the meeting because he'd known he might need a means of escaping Lelaine. Bryne had taught him that: It didn't show fear to prepare your retreat ahead of time. It was just plain good strategy.
Well over an hour's ride later, Gawyn found his old teacher where they'd planned to meet: one of the outlying guard posts. Bryne was conducting an inspection not unlike the one Gawyn had used to mask his escape from the Younglings. The general was just mounting his big-nosed bay gelding as Gawyn trotted up, crossing the scrub grass and wan spring weeds. The guard post sat in a hollow on the side of a gentle incline, with a good view of the approach from the north. The soldiers stood respectfully in their general's presence, and they veiled their hostility toward Gawyn. It had gotten around that he'd led the force which had raided them so successfully. A strategist like Bryne could respect Gawyn for his skill, no matter that they had been on opposite sides, but these men had seen colleagues killed by Gawyn's troops.
Bryne turned his horse to the side, nodding to Gawyn. "You're later than you said you'd be, son."
"But not later than you expected?" Gawyn said, pulling Challenge up.