Watching a reluctant Siuan follow Cetalia up the corridor, Moiraine let herself glare at the woman’s back. Surely that behavior at least skirted rudeness. Apparently there were gradations. Well, nuance was everything in the Sun Palace, too. They would only have to bear it a short time, though. Inside the week, they would be gone, and she for one did not intend to return until she was at her full strength. Except to let Tamra know where the boychild was, of course. Actually being the ones to find him would be wonderful.
Her own breakfast porridge still held enough warmth to be edible, and she settled gingerly onto a plump-cushioned chair at the table, but before she could take a second bite, Anaiya walked in. Anaiya was nearly as strong in the Power as Cetalia, so she set down her silver spoon and stood.
“I’d tell you to sit down and eat,” the motherly woman said, “but Tamra sent a novice to fetch you. I told the child I’d carry her message because I wanted to offer you Healing. It can help with the tightness of the Oaths in some cases.”
Moiraine reddened. Of course everyone knew by now. Light! “Thank you,” she said, both for the Healing—the tightness did not loosen by a hair, but it was much more comfortable, after—and for the clue. If she did not have to stand for Anaiya, she surely did not have to obey her. Unless Anaiya was simply being courteous, of course. She very nearly sighed. More observation was in order before she reached any conclusions.
Leaving the Blue quarters with her shawl wrapped firmly around her shoulders—she did not mean to go without that just yet; for one thing, it helped with the chill—she wondered what Tamra wanted with her. Only one possibility came to mind. Now that she and Siuan were full sisters, Tamra might mean to put them among her searchers. After all, they already knew. Nothing else made sense. Her steps quickened eagerly.
“But I don’t want a job,” Siuan protested, her belly rumbling with hunger yet again. She felt wrung out after hours in Cetalia’s rooms, so full of books and stacked boxes of papers that they seemed to belong to a Brown. And the woman seemed never to have heard of a chair cushion. Her chairs were hard as stone!
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the gray-haired sister said dismissively, crossing her legs. She tossed the last pages she had given Siuan carelessly onto a writing table already littered six deep with others. “You didn’t do too badly for a beginner. I have need of you, and that is that. I expect you here at Second Rise tomorrow morning. Now go get something to eat. You are Aes Sedai, now; you cannot go around sounding like the leaky drain pipe.”
There was no point in protesting again. The bloody woman had already made it clear that two protests in succession came dangerously close to rudeness in her book. Bloody, bloody woman! She let nothing of anger touch her face, a lesson learned long before Tar Valon. On the fishing docks, displaying anger or fear either one could lead to trouble. Sometimes it could lead to a knife in your back.
“As you say, Cetalia,” she muttered, earning yet another raised eyebrow, and just managed not to stalk out of the woman’s apartments. Outside, she did stalk, and the Dark One take anyone who did not like it!
Burn her, why had she
been fool enough to let the woman goad her? Moiraine had counseled caution, and instead, she had tried to wipe the doubt from bloody Cetalia’s bloody voice by thinking like Moiraine. Unskilled hands on the tiller put the boat aground when they did not capsize it. Her unskilled steering meant she would not be leaving the Tower any time soon. Not for years, until she was strong enough to tell Cetalia what she could do with her job. At least the woman had not gotten her claws on Moiraine. With her mind, she would have been a wonder as Cetalia’s assistant.
Hungry or not, she went in search of Moiraine rather than dinner, to let her know she would be searching by herself. The sight of Moiraine always made her smile. Cetalia had been wrong in one particular. She was not a pretty little porcelain doll; she was a beautiful little porcelain doll. On the outside, anyway. Inside, where it counted, was another matter. The first time Siuan saw her, she had been sure the Cairhienin girl would crack like a spindle-shell in a matter of days. But Moiraine had turned out to be as tough as she herself if not tougher. No matter how often she was knocked down, she climbed back to her feet straightaway. Moiraine did not know the meaning of “give up.” Which was why it was a surprise to find her slumped in a chair in her sitting room, her shawl slung over the chairback, with a sulky expression on her face. A green-glazed teapot on a tray gave off the smell of hot tea, but the white cups looked unused.
“What happened to you?” Siuan asked. “You haven’t earned a penance already, have you?”
“Worse,” Moiraine replied disconsolately. Her voice usually minded Siuan of silver bells, but Moiraine hated hearing that. “Tamra has put me in charge of distributing the bounty.”
“Blood and bloody ashes!” Siuan tested the words on her tongue. There would be no switchings now for speaking like herself. She had heard Aes Sedai who could have made any dockman blush. She did seem to sense a faint taste of soap, though. “Does she suspect? Is she trying to make sure you can’t interfere?” Maybe that was why Cetalia had latched hold of her. No, she had done well on the bloody woman’s tests, the more fool her.
“I think not, Siuan. I was taught to manage an estate, though I only did it for a few months before coming to the Tower. She said that gave me all the skills I needed.” Her mouth twisted wryly. “I was ‘lying around loose,’ as she put it, and I suspect she decided to give an onerous task to a Blue as a way of being fair. What about you? What sort of puzzles did Cetalia want you to look at?”
“A lot of old reports,” Siuan grumbled, easing down onto a cushioned chair. If only her skin did not feel three sizes too small! Without asking, she poured herself a cup of tea. They never asked about things like that. “She wanted me to puzzle out what happened forty or fifty years ago in Tarabon and Saldaea and Altara.” As soon as the words were out of her she wanted to clap a hand over her mouth, but it was too late for that.
Moiraine sat up straight, suddenly very interested. “Cetalia heads the Blue Ajah eyes-and-ears.” It was not a question. Trust her to see straight to the heart right away.
“Don’t even whisper that. The bloody woman will boil me down like an oil fish if she learns I let it slip. She’ll probably have it anyway, but I don’t want to give her cause before she finds it.” She certainly would, if today had been any guide. “Look now, handing out the bounty can’t last more than a few months. After, you’re free to go. Let me know where you’re going, and if I learn anything, I’ll try to get word to you.” The Blue had an extensive network of eyes-and-ears, as useful for passing messages out as for sending reports in.
“I do not know that I can afford a few months,” Moiraine said in a small voice, dropping her eyes, very unlike herself. “I…. Ihave been keeping a secret from you, Siuan.” But they never kept secrets from each other! “I am very afraid the Hall means to put me on the Sun Throne.”
Siuan blinked. Moiraine, a queen? “You’d make a wonderful queen. And don’t bring up those Aes Sedai queens who came to bad ends. That was a very long time ago. There’s hardly a ruler anywhere who doesn’t have an Aes Sedai advisor. Who’s ever said a word against them except the Whitecloaks?”
“It is a long step from advisor to queen, Siuan.” Moiraine sat up, carefully arranging her skirts, and her voice took on that infuriatingly patient tone she used explaining things. “Obviously, the Hall thinks I could take the throne without bringing mobs into the streets, but I do not want to take the chance they are wrong. Cairhien has endured enough these last two years without that. And even if they are right, no one has ruled Cairhien for long without being willing to stoop to kidnapping, assassination and worse. My great-grandmother, Carewin, ruled more than fifty years, and the Tower calls her a very successful ruler because Cairhien prospered and had few wars under her, but her name is still used to frighten children. Better to be forgotten than remembered like Carewin Damodred, but even with the Tower behind me, I will have to try matching her if the Hall succeeds.” Suddenly, her shoulders slumped, and her face broke close to tears. “What can I do, Siuan? I am caught like a fox in a trap, and I cannot even chew off my own foot to escape.”
Setting her teacup on the tray, Siuan knelt beside Moiraine’s chair and put her hands on the other woman’s shoulders. “We’ll find a way out,” she said, putting far more confidence into her voice than she felt. “We’ll find a way.” She was a little surprised the First Oath allowed her to say those words. She could imagine no way out for either of them.
“If you say so, Siuan.” Moiraine did not sound as if she believed, either. “There is one thing I can remedy. May I offer you Healing?”
Siuan could have kissed her. In fact, she did.
There was still considerable snow close to the mountains that rose up ahead of Lan, and the trampled tracks of a large body of men lay clear beneath the afternoon sun, leading straight across the hills toward the cloud-capped heights that reared higher and higher the deeper you looked. He raised his looking glass, but he could discern no movement ahead. The Aiel must already be into the mountains. Cat Dancer stamped a hoof impatiently.
“Are those the Spine of the World?” Rakim called in that rasping voice. “Impressive, but somehow I thought they’d be taller.”
“That’s Kinslayer’s Dagger,” a well-traveled Arafellin laughed. “Call them the foothills to the Spine and you won’t be far wrong.”
“Why are we just standing here?” Caniedrin demanded, low-voiced enough not be called down for it but loud enough for Lan to hear. Caniedrin liked to press the edges where he could.
Bukama relieved him of the necessity to answer. “Only fools try fighting Aiel in mountains,” he said loudly. Twisting toward Lan in his saddle, he lowered his own voice to a near whisper, and the creases of his permanent scowl deepened. “The Light send Pedron Niall doesn’t choose now to paint his face.” Niall, Lord Captain Commander of the Children of the Light, had the command today.