“An interesting young man.” Elaida studied them as she spoke. “I met him only once, but I found him—most interesting. I believe he must be ta’veren. Yes. The answers to many questions may rest in him. This Emond’s Field of yours must be an unusual place to produce the two of you. And Rand al’Thor.”
“It is just a village,” Nynaeve said. “Just a village like any other.”
“Yes. Of course.” Elaida smiled, a cold quirk of her lips that twisted Egwene’s stomach. “Tell me about him. The Amyrlin has not commanded you to be silent about him also, has she?”
Nynaeve gave her braid a tug. Elayne studied the carpet as if something important were hidden in it, and Egwene racked her brain for an answer. She can hear lies, they say. Light, if she can really hear a lie. . . . The moment stretched on, until finally Nynaeve opened her mouth.
At that instant the door opened again. Sheriam regarded the room with a measure of surprise. “It is well I find you here, Elayne. I want all three of you. I had not expected you, Elaida.”
Elaida stood, arranging her shawl. “We are all curious about these girls. Why they ran away. What adventures they had while gone. They say the Mother has commanded them not to speak of it.”
“As well not to,” Sheriam said. “They are to be punished, and that should be an end to it. I have always felt that when punishment is done, the fault that caused it should be erased.”
For a long moment the two Aes Sedai stood looking at each other, no expression on either smooth face. Then Elaida said, “Of course. Perhaps I will speak to them another time. About other matters.” The look she gave to the three women in white seemed to Egwene to carry a warning, and then she was slipping past Sheriam.
Holding
the door open, the Mistress of Novices watched the other Aes Sedai go down the gallery. Her face was still unreadable.
Egwene let out a long breath, and heard echoes from Nynaeve and Elayne.
“She threatened me,” Elayne said incredulously, and half to herself. “She threatened me with stilling, if I don’t stop being—willful!”
“You mistook her,” Sheriam said. “If being willful were a stilling offense, the list of the stilled would have more names on it than you could learn. Few meek women ever achieve the ring and the shawl. That is not to say, of course, that you must not learn to act meekly when it is required.”
“Yes, Sheriam Sedai,” they all three said almost as one, and Sheriam smiled.
“You see? You can give the appearance of meekness, at least. And you will have plenty of opportunity to practice before you earn your way back into the Amyrlin’s good graces. And mine. Mine will be harder to achieve.”
“Yes, Sheriam Sedai,” Egwene said, but this time only Elayne spoke with her.
Nynaeve said, “What of . . . the body, Sheriam Sedai? The . . . the Soulless? Have you discovered who killed him? Or why he entered the Tower?”
Sheriam’s mouth tightened. “You take one step forward, Nynaeve, and then a step back. Since from Elayne’s lack of surprise, you have obviously told her of it—after I told you not to speak of the matter!—then there are exactly seven people in the Tower who know a man was killed today in the novices’ quarters, and two of them are men who know no more than that. Except that they are to keep their mouths shut. If an order from the Mistress of Novices carries no weight with you—and if that is so, I will correct you—perhaps you will obey one from the Amyrlin Seat. You are to speak of this to no one except the Mother or me. The Amyrlin will not have more rumors piled on those we must already contend with. Do I make myself clear?”
The firmness of her voice produced a chorus of “Yes, Sheriam Sedai”—but Nynaeve refused to stop at that. “Seven, you said, Sheriam Sedai. Plus whoever killed him. And maybe they had help getting into the Tower.”
“That is no concern of yours.” Sheriam’s level gaze included them all. “I will ask whatever questions must be asked about this man. You will forget you know anything at all about a dead man. If I discover you are doing anything else. . . . Well, there are worse things than scrubbing pots to occupy your attention. And I will not accept any excuses. Do I hear any more questions?”
“No, Sheriam Sedai.” This time, Nynaeve joined in, to Egwene’s relief. Not that she felt very much relief. Sheriam’s watchful eye would make it doubly hard to carry out a search for the Black Ajah. For a moment she felt like laughing hysterically. If the Black Ajah doesn’t catch us, Sheriam will. The urge to laugh vanished. If Sheriam isn’t Black Ajah herself. She wished she could make that thought go away.
Sheriam nodded. “Very well, then. You will come with me.”
“To where?” Nynaeve asked, and added, “Sheriam Sedai,” only an instant before the Aes Sedai’s eyes narrowed.
“Have you forgotten,” Sheriam said in a tight voice, “that in the Tower, Healing is always done in the presence of those who bring their sick to us?”
Egwene thought that the Mistress of Novices’s stock of patience with them was about used up, but before she could stop herself, she burst out, “Then she is going to Heal him!”
“The Amyrlin Seat herself, among others, will see to him.” Sheriam’s face held no more expression than her voice. “Did you have reason to doubt it?” Egwene could only shake her head. “Then you waste your friend’s life standing here. The Amyrlin Seat is not to be kept waiting.” Yet despite her words, Egwene had the feeling the Aes Sedai was in no hurry at all.
CHAPTER
18
Healing
Lamps on iron wall brackets lit the passages deep beneath the Tower, where Sheriam took them. The few doors they passed were shut tight, some locked, some so cunningly worked that they remained unseen until Egwene was right on top of them. Dark openings marked most of the crossing hallways, while down others she could only see the dim glow of distant lights spaced far apart. She saw no other people. These were not places even Aes Sedai often came. The air was neither cool nor warm, but she shivered anyway, and at the same time felt sweat trickling down her back.