He found himself standing. That look in Min's eyes. Was she angry with him? Was she remembering his hand at her neck, his knee pressing her against the floor?
He sat back down. Min could wait. "All right," he said, addressing the Aiel. "Bring me my scribes and stewards, along with Rhuarc, Bael and whatever city worthies haven't fled the city or been killed in riots. We need to go over the grain distribution plans."
The Aiel sent runners and Rand settled back into his chair. He would see the people fed, restore order and gather the Council of Merchants. He would even see that a new king was chosen.
But he would also find out where Alsalam had gone. For there, his instincts said, was the best place to find Graendal. It was his best lead.
If he did find her, he would see that she died by balefire, just like Semirhage. He would do what must be done.
CHAPTER 30
Old Advice
Gawyn remembered very little of his father—the man had never been much of a father, to him at least—but he did have a strong memory of a day in the Caemlyn palace gardens. Gawyn had been standing beside a small pond, pitching pebbles into it. Taringail had walked past down the Rose March, young Galad at his side.
The scene was still vivid in Gawyn's mind. The heavy scent of the roses in full bloom. The silver ripples on the pond, the minnows scattering away from the miniature boulder he'd just tossed at them. He could picture his father well. Tall, handsome, hair with a slight wave to it. Galad had been straight-backed and somber even then. A few months later, Galad would rescue Gawyn from drowning in that very pond.
Gawyn could hear his father speak words that he'd never forgotten. Whatever else one thought of Taringail Damodred, this bit of advice rang true. "There are two groups of people you should never trust," the man had been saying to Galad as they passed. "The first are pretty women. The second are Aes Sedai. Light help you, son, if you ever have to face someone who is both." Light help you, son.
"I simply cannot see disobeying the Amyrlin's express will in this matter," Lelaine said primly, stirring ink in the small jar on her desk. No man trusted beautiful women, for all their fascination with them. But few realized what Taringail had said—that a pretty girl, like a coal that had cooled just enough to no longer look hot, could be far, far more dangerous.
Lelaine wasn't beautiful, but she was pretty, particularly when she smiled. Slender and graceful, without a speck of gray in her dark hair, an almond face with full lips. She looked up at him with eyes that were far too comely to belong to a woman of her craftiness. And she seemed to know. She understood that she was just attractive enough to draw attention, but not stunning enough to make men wary.
She was a woman of the most dangerous type. One who felt real, who made men think they might be able to hold her attention. She wasn't pretty like Egwene, who made you want to spend time with her. This woman's smile made you want to count the knives on your belt and in your boot, just to make sure none of them had found their way into your back while you were distracted.
Gawyn stood beside her writing table, shaded by the straight-topped blue tent. He hadn't been invited to sit, and he had not asked for the privilege. Talking to an Aes Sedai, particularly an important one, required wits and sobriety. He'd rather stand. Perhaps it would keep him more alert.
"Egwene is trying to protect you," Gawyn said, controlling his frustration. "That's why she commanded you to forgo a rescue. She obviously doesn't want you to risk yourselves. She is self-sacrificing to a fault." If she weren't, he added in his mind, she'd never have let you all bully her into pretending to be the Amyrlin Seat.
"She seems very confident of her safety," Lelaine said, dipping her pen into the ink. She began to write on a piece of parchment; a note to someone. Gawyn politely didn't read over her shoulder, though he did notice the calculated move on her part. He was unimportant enough that he couldn't demand her full attention. He chose not to acknowledge the insult. Trying to bully Bryne hadn't worked; it would be even less effective with this woman.
"She's trying to put your worries at ease, Lelaine Sedai," he said instead.
"I am a fair judge of people, young Trakand. I do not think she feels she is in danger." She shook her head. Her perfume smelled of apple blossoms.
"I do not doubt you," he replied. "But perhaps if I knew how it is you communicate with her, I could judge better. If I could—"
"You have been warned not to ask about that, child," Lelaine said in her soft, melodious voice. "Leave things of the Aes Sedai to the Aes Sedai."
Virtually the same answer each sister gave when he asked how they communicated with Egwene. He clenched his jaw in frustration. What had he expected? It involved using the One Power. After all his time in the White Tower, he still had little idea of what the Power could and couldn't do.
"Regardless," Lelaine continued, "the Amyrlin thinks herself quite safe. What we've discovered in Shemerin's story only reinforces and corroborates what Egwene has told us. Elaida is so mad with power that she doesn't consider the rightful Amyrlin a threat."
There was more she wasn't saying. Gawyn could tell it. He could never get a straight answer from them regarding what Egwene's status was currently. He'd heard rumors that she'd been imprisoned, no longer allowed to roam free as a novice. But getting information from an Aes Sedai was about as easy as churning rocks into butter!
Gawyn took a breath. He couldn't lose his temper. If he did that, he'd never get Lelaine to listen. And he needed her. Bryne wouldn't move without Aes Sedai authorization, and as far as Gawyn had been able to tell, his best chances of gaining it came from Lelaine or Romanda. Everyone seemed to listen to one of the two or the other.
Fortunately, Gawyn had found that he could play them off one another. A visit to Romanda almost always prompted an invitation from Lelaine. Of course, the reason they were eager to see him in the first place had very little to do with Egwene. No doubt the conversation would move in that direction very soon.
"Perhaps you are right, Lelaine Sedai," he said, trying a different tack. "Perhaps Egwene does believe herself to be safe. But isn't there a possibility that she is wrong? You can't honestly believe that Elaida will let a woman who claimed to be Amyrlin wander around the White Tower free? This is obviously just a means of showing off a captured rival before executing her."
"Perhaps," Lelaine said, continuing to write. She had a flowing, ornate hand. "But must I not uphold the Amyrlin, even if she is misguided?"
Gawyn gave no response. Of course she could disobey the will of the Amyrlin. He knew enough of Aes Sedai politics to understand it was done all the time. But saying that would accomplish nothing.
"Still," Lelaine said absently. "Perhaps I can bring a motion before the Hall. We might be able to persuade the Amyrlin to listen to a new kind of plea. We shall see if I can formulate a new argument."
"We shall see" or "Perhaps we can" or "I will consider what to do." Never a firm commitment; every half-offer came smeared liberally with goose grease for easy escape. Light, but he was growing weary of Aes Sedai answers!
Lelaine looked up at him, favoring him with a smile. "Now, as I have agreed to do something for you, perhaps you will be willing to offer me something. Great deeds are rarely accomplished without the aid of many partners, you may know."
Gawyn sighed. "Speak your needs, Aes Sedai."
"Your sister has, by all reports, made a very admirable showing for herself in Andor," Lelaine said, as if she hadn't said nearly the exact same thing the last three times she'd met with Gawyn. "She did have to step on a few toes to secure her throne, however. What do you think her policy will be regarding House Traemane's fruit orchards? Under your mother, the tax assessments on the land were very favorable toward Traemane. Will Elayne revoke this special privilege, or will she try to use it as honey to soothe those who stood against her?"
Gawyn stifled another sigh. It always came back to Elayne. He was convinced that neither Lelaine nor Romanda had any real interest in rescuing Egwene—they were too pleased with their increased power in her absence. No, they met with Gawyn because of the new queen on the Lion Throne.
He had no idea why an Aes Sedai of the Blue Ajah would care about apple orchard taxation rates. Lelaine wouldn't be looking for monetary gain; that wasn't the Aes Sedai way. But she would want leverage, a means of securing a favorable connection with the Andoran noble houses. Gawyn resisted answering. Why help this woman? What good was it doing?
But yet . . . could he be certain she wouldn't work for Egwene's release? If he stopped making these meetings useful to Lelaine, would she discontinue them? Would he find himself shut out of his one source of influence—no matter how small—in the camp?
"Well," he said, "I think that my sister will be more strict than my mother was. She always has thought that the favorable position of the orchard growers was no longer justified."
He could see that Lelaine subtly began taking notes on what he said at the bottom of her parchment. Was that the real reason for getting out the ink and quill?
He had no choice but to answer as honestly as he could, though he had to be careful not to let himself get pressed for too much information. His connection to Elayne was the only thing he had with which to bargain, and he had to ration his usefulness to stretch it long. It irked him. Elayne wasn't a bargaining chip, she was his sister!
But it was all he had.
"I see," Lelaine said, "and what of the northern cherry orchards? They haven't been particularly productive lately, and. . . ."
Shaking his head, Gawyn left the tent. Lelaine had prodded him about Andoran taxation rates for the better part of an hour. And, once again, Gawyn was uncertain if he'd achieved anything useful in his visit. He'd never get Egwene free at this rate!
As always, 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.
"Not at all," the sturdy man said, smiling. "You were visiting Aes Sedai."
Gawyn grinned at that, and the two turned their mounts and began to cross the open hills toward the north. Bryne planned to inspect all of the guard posts on the western side of Tar Valon, a duty that would involve a lot of riding, so Gawyn had offered to accompany him. There was blessed little else to do with his time; few of the soldiers would spar with him, and those who would tried just a little too hard to cause an "accident." The Aes Sedai would only suffer so much of his prodding, and Gawyn didn't have a mind for the game of stones lately. He was too on edge, worried about Egwene and frustrated at his lack of progress. The truth was, he'd never been very good at the game in the first place—not like his mother. Bryne had insisted that Gawyn practice it anyway as a method of learn