Egwene wondered why Min was so determined to go with them rather than simply leaving on her own, but before she had time to do more than wonder, Elayne said, “I am going, too.”
“Elayne,” Nynaeve said gently, “Egwene and I are the boys' kith from Emond's Field. You are the DaughterHeir of Andor. If you disappear from the White Tower, why, it — it could start a war.”
“Mother wouldn't start a war with Tar Valon if they dried and salted me, which they may be trying to do. If you three can go off and have an adventure, you needn't think I am going to stay here and wash dishes, and scrub floors, and have some Accepted berating me because I didn't make the fire the exact shade of blue she wanted. Gawyn will die from envy when he finds out.” Elayne grinned and reached over to tug playfully at Egwene's hair. “Besides, if you leave Rand lying about loose, I might have a chance to pick him up.”
“I don't think either of us is going to have him,” Egwene said sadly.
“Then we'll find whoever he does choose and make her life miserable. But he couldn't be fool enough to choose someone else when he could have one of us. Oh, please smile, Egwene. I know he's yours. I just feel” — she hesitated, searching for the word — “free. I've never had an adventure. I'll bet we won't either of us cry ourselves to sleep on an adventure. And if we do, we will make sure the gleemen leave that part out.”
“This is foolishness,” Nynaeve said. “We are going to Toman Head. You've heard the news, and the rumors. It will be dangerous. You must stay here.”
“I heard what Liandrin Sedai said about the — the Black Ajah, too.” Elayne's voice dropped almost to a whisper at that name. “How safe will I be here, if they are here? If Mother even suspected the Black Ajah really existed, she would pitch me into the middle of a battle to get me away from them.”
"But, Elayne—
“There is only one way for you to stop me coming. That is to tell the Mistress of Novices. We will make a pretty picture, all three of us lined up in her study. All four of us. I don't think Min would escape from something like this. So since you are not going to tell Sheriam Sedai, I am coming, too.”
Nynaeve threw up her hands. “Perhaps you can say something to convince her,” she told Min.
Min had been leaning against the door, squinting at Elayne, and now she shook her head. “I think she has to come as much as the rest of you. The rest of us. I can see the danger around all of you more clearly, now. Not clearly enough to make it out, but I think it has something to do with you deciding to go. That's why it is clearer; because it is more certain.”
“That's no reason for her to come,” Nynaeve said, but Min shook her head again.
“She is linked to — to those boys as much as you, or Egwene, or me. She's part of it, Nynaeve, whatever it is. Part of the Pattern, I suppose an Aes Sedai would say.”
Elayne seemed taken aback, and interested, too. “I am? What part, Min?”
“I can't see it clearly.” Min looked at the floor. “Sometimes I wish I couldn't read people at all. Most people aren't satisfied with what I see anyway.”
“If we are all going,” Nynaeve said, “then we had best be about making plans.” However much she might argue beforehand, once a course of action had been decided, Nynaeve always went right to the practicalities: what they had to take with them, and how cold it would be by the time they reached Toman Head, and how they could get their horses from the stables without being stopped.
Listening to her, Egwene could not help wondering what the danger was that Min saw for them, and what danger threatened Rand. She knew of only one danger that could threaten him, and it made her cold to think of it. Hold on, Rand. Hold on, you woolheaded idiot. I'll help you somehow.
Chapter 39
(Leaf)
Flight From the White Tower
Egwene and Elayne inclined their heads briefly to each group of women they passed as they made their way through the Tower. It was a good thing, there were so many women from outside in the Tower today, Egwene thought, too many for each to have an Aes Sedai or an Accepted for escort. Alone or in small groups, garbed richly or poorly, in dress from half a dozen different lands, some still dusty from their journey to Tar Valon, they kept to themselves and waited their turn to ask their questions of the Aes Sedai, or present their petitions. Some women — ladies or merchants or merchants' wives — had female servants with them. Even a few men had come with petitions, standing by themselves, looking unsure about being in the White Tower, and eyeing everyone else uneasily.
In the lead, Nynaeve kept her eyes purposefully ahead, her cloak swirling behind her, walking as if she knew where they were going — which she did, as long as no one stopped them — and had a perfect right to go there — which was a different matter altogether, of course. Dressed now in the clothes they had brought to Tar Valon, they certainly did not look like residents of the Tower. Each had chosen her best dress that had a skirt divided for riding, and cloaks of fine wool rich with embroidery. As long as they kept away from all who might recognize them — they had already dodged several who knew their faces — Egwene thought they might make it.
“This would do better for a turn in some lord's park than a ride to Toman Head,” Nynaeve had said dryly as Egwene helped her with the buttons of a gray silk with threadofgold work and pearled flowers across the bosom and down the sleeves, “but it may allow us to leave unnoticed.”
Now Egwene shifted her cloak and smoothed her own goldembroidered, green silk dress and glanced at Elayne, in blue slashed with cream, hoping Nynaeve had been right. So far, everyone had taken them for petitioners, nobles, or at least women of wealth, but it seemed that they should stand out. She was surprised to realize why; she felt uncomfortable in the fine dress after wearing a novice's plain white for the past few months.
A little cluster of village women in stout, dark woolens dropped curtsies as they passed. Egwene glanced back at Min as soon as they were beyond. Min had kept her breeches and baggy man's shirt under a boy's brown cloak and coat, with an old, widebrimmed hat pulled down over her short hair. “One of us has to be the servant,” she had said, laughing. “Women dressed the way you are always have at least one. You'll wish you had my breeches if we have to run.” She was burdened with four sets of saddlebags bulging with warm clothes, for it would surely be winter before they returned. There were also packets of food pilfered from the kitchens, enough to last