Siuan blinked. “I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking about something lately, and trying to decide whether to share it with you. About the Hall.”
“The Hall! Siuan, if you know something about the Hall —!”
“I don’t know anything,” Siuan cut in. “It’s what I suspect.” She clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Not even suspect, really. At least, I don’t know what to suspect. But I see a pattern.”
“Then you had best tell me about it,” Egwene said. Siuan had shown herself very skilled at detecting patterns where others saw only a jumble.
Shifting on her stool, Siuan leaned forward intently. “It’s this. Aside from Romanda and Moria, the Sitters chosen in Salidar are... they’re too young.” Much had changed in Siuan, but speaking of other sisters’ ages clearly made her uncomfortable. “Escaralde is the oldest, and I’m sure she isn’t much past seventy. I can’t be certain without going into the novice books in Tar Valon, or her telling us, but I’m as sure as I can be. It isn’t often the Hall has held more than one Sitter under a hundred, and here we have nine!”
“But Romanda and Moria are new,” Egwene said gently, resting her elbows on the table. It had been a long day. “And neither is young. Maybe we should be grateful the others are, or they might not have been willing to raise me.” She could have pointed out that Siuan herself had been chosen Amyrlin at less than half Escaralde’s age, but the reminder would have been cruel.
“Maybe,” Siuan said stubbornly. “Romanda was certain for the Hall as soon as she showed up. I doubt there’s a Yellow would dare speak against her for a chair. And Moria... She doesn’t cling to Lelaine, but Lelaine and Lyrelle probably thought she would. I don’t know. Mark me, though. When a woman is raised too young, there’s a reason.” She took a deep breath. “Including when I was.” The pain of loss flashed across her face, the loss of the Amyrlin Seat certainly, maybe of all the losses she had suffered. It was gone almost as soon as it came. Egwene did not think she had ever known a woman as strong as Siuan Sanche. “This time, there were more than enough sisters of proper age to choose from, and I can’t see five Ajahs deadlocking on all of them. There is a pattern, and I mean to pick it out.”
Egwene did not agree. Change hung in the air whether Siuan wanted to see it or not. Elaida had broken custom, come very close to breaking law, in usurping Siuan’s place. Sisters had fled the Tower and let the world know of it, and that last certainly had never happened before. Change. Older sisters were more likely to be tied to the old ways, but even some of them had to see that everything was shifting. Surely that was why younger women, more open to the new, had been chosen. Should she order Siuan to stop wasting her time with this? Siuan had enough else to do. Or would it be a kindness to let her continue? She wanted so deeply to prove that the change she saw was not really occurring at all.
Before Egwene could make a decision, Romanda ducked into the tent and stood holding the tentflap open. Long shadows stretched across the snow outside. Evening was coming fast. Romanda’s face was as dark as those shadows. She fixed Siuan with a stern gaze and snapped one word. “Out!”
Egwene gave an infinitesimal nod, but Siuan was already on her feet. She missed a step, then all but ran from the tent. A sister who stood where Siuan did was expected to obey any sister of Romanda’s strength in the Power, not just a Sitter.
Throwing down the tentflap, Romanda embraced the Source. The glow of saidar surrounded her, and she wove a ward against eavesdropping around the inside of the tent without so much as a pretense of asking Egwene’s permission. “You are a fool!” she grated. “How long did you think you could keep this a secret? Soldiers talk, child. Men always talk! Bryne will be lucky if the Hall doesn’t put his head on a pike.”
Egwene stood slowly, smoothing her skirt. She had been waiting for this, but she still needed to be careful. The game was far from played out, and everything could still turn against her in a flash. She had to pretend innocence, until she could afford to stop pretending. “Must I remind you that rudeness to the Amyrlin Seat is a crime, daughter,” she said instead. She had been pretending so long, and she was so close.
“The Amyrlin Seat.” Romanda strode across the carpets to within arm’s reach of Egwene, and by her glare, the thought of reaching more crossed her mind. “You’re an infant! Your bottom still remembers the last switching it had as a novice! After this, you’ll be lucky if the Hall doesn’t put you in a corner with a few play pretties. If you want to avoid that, you will listen to me, and do as I tell you. Now, sit down!”
Egwene seethed inside, but she sat. It was too soon.
With a sharp, satisfied nod, Romanda planted her fists on her hips. She stared down at Egwene like a stern aunt lecturing a misbehaving niece. A very stern aunt. Or a headsman with a toothache. “This meeting with Pelivar and Arathelle has to go forward, now it’s been arranged. They expect the Amyrlin Seat, and they will see her. You will attend with all the pomp and dignity your title deserves. And you will tell them I am to speak for you, after which, you will hold your tongue! Getting them out of our way will require a firm hand, and someone who knows what she’s about. No doubt Lelaine will be here any minute, trying to put herself forward, but you just remember the trouble she’s in. I’ve spent the day speaking with other Sitters, and it appears very likely that Merilille and Merana’s failures will be quite firmly attached to Lelaine when the Hall sits next. So, if you have any hope of gaining the experience you’ll need to grow into that stole, it lies with me! Do you understand me?”
“I understand perfectly,” Egwene said, in what she hoped was a meek voice. If she let Romanda speak in her place, there would no longer be any doubts. The Hall and the whole world would know who held Egwene al’Vere by the scruff of her neck.
Romanda’s eyes seemed to bore into her head before the woman gave a curt nod. “I hope that you do. I intend to remove Elaida from the Amyrlin Seat, and I won’t see that ruined because a child thinks she knows enough to find her way across the street without her hand held.” With a snort, she flung her cloak around her and flung herself out of the tent. The ward vanished as she did.
Egwene sat and frowned at the tent’s entrance. A child? Burn the woman, she was the Amyrlin Seat! Whether they liked it or not, they had raised her, and they were going to have to live with it! Eventually. Snatching up the stone inkwell, she