Riding slowly through Caemlyn under a baking mid-morning sun, Min really saw little of the city. She hardly noticed the people and sedan chairs, wagons and coaches, that clogged the streets except to guide her bay mare around them. One of her dreams had always been to live in a great city and travel to strange places, but today colorful towers covered in glittering tiles and sweeping vistas as the street rounded a hill passed all but unseen. Clumps of Aiel striding through the crowds with space opening around them got a second glance, and so did patrols of hawk-nosed, often bearded men on horseback, but only because they reminded her of the stories they had begun hearing while still in Murandy. Merana had been angered by those, and by the charred evidence of Dragonsworn they had come on twice, but Min thought some of the other Aes Sedai were worried. The less said about what they thought of Rand’s amnesty, the better.
At the edge of the plaza in front of the Royal Palace, she drew Wildrose’s rein and blotted her face carefully with a lace-edged handkerchief that she tucked back up her coatsleeve. Only a few people dotted the great oval, perhaps because Aiel guarded the open main gates of the palace. More Aiel stood on marble balconies or glided across high, colonnaded walks like leopards. The White Lion of Andor stirred in a breeze above the tallest of the palace domes. Another crimson flag flew from one of the spires, a little lower than the white dome, lifted just enough by the breeze for her to make out the ancient symbol of Aes Sedai, black-and-white.
Those Aiel made her glad she had refused the offer of a pair of Warders as escort; she suspected Aiel and Warders might strike sparks. Well, it had not been precisely an offer, and she had refused by sneaking away an hour before time by the clock on the inn mantelpiece. Merana was from Caemlyn, and when they arrived before dawn she took them straight to what she said was the finest inn in the New City.
It was not the Aiel who kept Min sitting there, however. Not entirely, though she had heard all sorts of terrible stories about black-veiled Aiel. Her coat and breeches were the finest, softest wool that could be found in Salidar, in a pale rose, with tiny blue-and-white flowers embroidered on lapels and cuffs and down the outsides of the legs. Her shirt was cut like a boy’s too, but in cream silk. In Baerlon, after her father died, her aunts had tried to make her into what they called a decent proper woman, though maybe her Aunt Miren had understood that after ten years running about the mines in boys’ clothes, it might be too late to stuff her into dresses. They had tried, even so, and she had fought them as stubbornly as she refused to learn to wield a needle. Aside from that unfortunate episode serving tables at The Miners’ Rest—a rough place, but she had not stayed long; Rana, Jan and Miren had seen to that emphatically when they found out, and no matter that she was twenty then—aside from that one time, she had never worn a dress willingly. Now she was thinking that maybe she should have had one made instead of this coat and breeches. A dress in silk, cut snug at the bodice and low, and . . .
He’ll have to take me as I am, she thought, twitching the reins irritably. I’m not changing for any man. Only, her clothes would have been as plain as any farmer’s not that long ago, her hair had not been in ringlets almost to her shoulders, and a small voice whispered, You’ll be whatever you think he wants you to be. She kicked it down as hard as she had ever kicked any stableman who tried to cut rough, and heeled Wildrose only a little more gently. She hated the very idea of women being weak when it came to men. There was just one problem; she was fairly certain she was going to find out just what it was like very soon now.
Dismounting in front of the Palace gates, she patted the mare, to tell her she had not meant the kick, while eyeing the Aiel uncertainly. Half were women, all but one considerably taller than she. The men towered like Rand, most of them, and some even more. Every one was watching her—well, they seemed to be watching everything, but definitely her as well—and not one blinked that she could see. With those spears and bucklers, the bows on their backs and quivers at their hips, the heavy knives, they looked ready to kill. Those black strips of cloth hanging down onto their chests must be the veils. She had heard Aiel would not kill you without covering their faces. I hope that’s so.
She addressed herself to the shortest of the women. Framed by bright red hair as short as Min’s used to be, her tanned face might as well have been carved from wood, but she was even a little shorter than Min. “I’ve come to see Rand al’Thor,” Min said, a trifle unsteadily. “The Dragon Reborn.” Did none of them ever blink? “My name is Min. He knows me, and I have an important message for him.”
The red-haired woman turned to the other Aiel, gesticulating quickly with her free hand. The rest of the women laughed as she turned back. “I will take you to him, Min. But if he does not know you, you will leave much faster than you go in.” Some of the Aiel women laughed at that too. “I am called Enaila.”
“He knows me,” Min told them, flushing. She had a pair of knives up her coatsleeves that Thom Merrilin had showed her how to use, but she had the feeling this woman could take them away and peel her with them. An image flickered above Enaila’s head and was gone. A wreath of some sort; Min had no idea what it meant. “Am I supposed to take my horse in, too? I don’t think Rand wants to see her.” To her surprise, some of the Aiel chuckled, men and women, and Enaila’s lips twitched as if she wanted to.
A man came to take Wildrose—Min thought he was Aiel too, despite the downcast eyes and white robe—and she followed Enaila through the gates, across a broad courtyard and into the Palace proper. It was something of a relief to see servants in red-and-white livery scurrying along the tapestry-lined corridors, warily eyeing the Aiel who also walked the halls, but no more so than they might a strange dog really. She had begun to think she would find the Palace filled with none but Aiel, Rand surrounded by them, maybe dressed in coat and breeches all in shades of brown and gray and green, staring at her without blinking.
Before tall wide doors, carved with lions and standing open, Enaila halted, wiggling her hand quickly at the Aiel on guard. They were all women. One, flaxen-haired and considerably taller than most men, waggled fingers back. “Wait here,” Enaila said, and went in.
Min took one step after her, and a spear was casually held in her path by the flaxen-haired woman. Or perhaps not casually, but Min did not care. She could see Rand.
He sat on a great gilded throne that seemed made entirely of Dragons, in a red coat worked heavily with gold, holding some sort of green-and-white tasseled spearhead of all things. Another throne stood on a tall pedestal behind him, gilded also, but with a lion picked out in white gemstones against red. The Lion Throne, so the rumors said. At that moment, he could have been using it for a footstool for all she cared. He looked tired. He was so beautiful, her heart ached. Images danced around him continuously. With Aes Sedai and Warders, that deluge was something she tried to escape; she could not tell what they meant any more often than with anyone else, but they were always there. With Rand, she had to make herself see them, because otherwise she would just stare at his face. One of those images she had seen every time she saw him. Countless thousands of sparkling lights, like stars or fireflies, rushed into a great blackness, trying to fill it up, rushed in and were swallowed. There seemed to be more lights than she had ever seen before, but the darkness swallowed them at a greater rate, too. And there was something else, something new, an aura of yellow and brown and purple that made her stomach clench.
She tried viewing the nobles facing him—surely that was what they were, in all those fine embroidered coats and rich silk gowns—but there was nothing to see. That was true of most people most of the time, and when she did see something, most often she had no notion what it foretold. Even so, she narrowed her eyes, straining. If she could make out just one image, one aura, it might be a help to him. From the stories she had heard since entering Andor, he could use all the help he could find.
With a heavy sigh, she gave it up finally. Squinting and straining did no good unless there was something to see in the first place.
Suddenly she realized the nobles were withdrawing, Rand was on his feet, and Enaila was waving, motioning her to enter. Rand was smiling. Min thought her heart might burst out of her chest. So this was what it felt like for all those women she had laughed at, throwing themselves at a man’s feet. No. She was not a giddy girl; she was older than he, she had had her first kiss while he still thought getting out of tending sheep was the most fun in the world, she . . . Light, please, don’t let my knees give way.
Tossing the Dragon Scepter down carelessly where he had been sitting, Rand bounded from the dais in one leap and rushed down the Grand Hall. As soon as he reached Min, he caught her under the arms and swung her into the air and around and around before Dyelin and the others were gone. Some of the nobles stared, and were welcome to for all of him. “Light, Min, but it’s good to see your face,” he laughed. Considerably better than Dyelin’s stony features or Ellorien’s. But if Aemlyn and Arathelle and Pelivar and Luan and all of them had every one proclaimed their joy that Elayne was on her way to Caemlyn instead of staring at him with doubt or even “liar” in their eyes, he would have been as overjoyed to see Min.
When he put her feet back on the floor, she sagged against his chest, clutching his arms and breathing hard. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make you dizzy. It’s just that I really am glad to see you.”
“Well, you did make me dizzy, you wool-headed sheepherder,” she mumbled against his chest. Pushing herself away, she glared up at him through long lashes. “I had a very long ride, I arrived in the middle of the night, or might as well, and you toss me around like a sack of oats. Did you never learn any manners?”
“Woolhead,” he laughed softly. “Min, you can name me liar, but I’ve actually missed hearing you call me that.” She did not call him anything; she merely peered up at him, the glare gone completely. Her eyelashes did seem longer than he remembered.
Realizing where they were, he took her hand. A throne room was no place for meeting old friends. “Come on, Min. We can have some cool punch in my sitting room. Somara, I am going to my apartments; you can send everybody away.”
Somara did not look happy about it, but she dismissed all the Maidens except for herself and Enaila. Both looked a bit sullen, which he did not understand. He had allowed Somara to gather so many inside the palace in the first place only because Dyelin and the others were coming. Bashere was out at his horsemen’s camp north of the city for the same reason. Maidens for a reminder, Bashere because there could be too many reminders. He hoped the two Maidens were not planning on any mothering. They took turns as his guards more than their share, it seemed to him, but Nandera was as adamant as Sulin had been when it came to him saying who specifically was to do what. He could command Far Dareis Mai, but he was not a Maiden, and the other was none of his business.
Min studied the tapestries as he led her along the corridor by the hand. She peered at inlaid chests and tables, at golden bowls and tall vases of Sea Folk porcelain in niches. She examined Enaila and Somara head to toe three times each. But she neither looked at him nor spoke a word. His hand engulfed hers, and he could feel the pulse in her wrist racing to beat horses. He hoped she was not really angry over being whirled about.
To his great relief, Somara and Enaila took places on either side of his door, though they both looked at him when he asked for punch, and he had to repeat himself. In the sitting room, he took off his coat and tossed it over a chair. “Sit, Min. Sit. Rest and relax. The punch will be here shortly. You have to tell me everything. Where you’ve been, how you got here, why you arrived in the night. It isn’t safe traveling at night, Min. Now less than ever. I’ll give you the best rooms in the Palace—well, the second-best; these are the best—and an Aiel escort to take you wherever you want. Any bullyboy or strongarm will doff his cap and duck his head, if he doesn’t run right up the side of a building to get away.”
For a moment he thought she might laugh, standing there by the door, but instead she drew a deep breath and took a letter from her pocket. “I can’t tell you where I came from—I promised, Rand—but Elayne is there, and—”
“Salidar,” he said, and smiled at the way her eyes widened. “I know a few things, Min. Maybe more than some think I do.”
“I . . . see that you do,” she said faintly. She pushed the letter into his hands then backed away again. Her voice firmed as she added, “I swore I would give that to you first off. Go ahead and read it.”
He recognized the seal, a lily in dark yellow wax, and Elayne’s flowing hand in his name, and he hesitated before opening it. Clean breaks were best, and he had made one, but with the letter in his hand, he could not stop himself. He read, then sat down atop his coat and read again. It was certainly short.
Rand,
I have made my feelings clear to you. Know that they have not changed. I hope that you feel for me what I feel for you. Min can help you, if you will only listen to her. I love her like a sister, and hope you love her as I do.
Elayne
Her ink must have been running out, because the last lines were a hurried scrawl, quite unlike the elegance of the rest. Min had been sidling and twisting her head, trying to read the letter without being too obvious, but when he lifted himself to pull his coat out—the fat-little-man angreal was in the pocket—she scurried back again. “Do women all try to drive a man crazy?” he muttered.
“What!”
He stared at the letter, talking half to himself. “Elayne is so beautiful I can’t help staring, but half the time I don’t know whether she wants me to kiss her or kneel at her feet. Truth to tell, sometimes I did want to kneel . . . and worship, the Light help me. She says here I know how she feels. Two letters she’s written me before this, one full of love, the other saying she never wanted the sight of me again. The times I’ve sat wishing the first one was true and the other some sort of joke, or mistake, or . . . and Aviendha. She’s beautiful too, but every day with her was a battle. No kisses from her, not anymore, and no doubts how she feels. She was even happier to get away from me than I was to see her go. Only, I keep expecting to see her when I turn around, and when she isn’t there, it’s as if something inside me is missing. I actually miss the battle, and there are moments when I find myself thinking, There are things worth fighting for.” Something in Min’s silence made him look up. She was staring at him with a face as blank as an Aes Sedai.
“Did nobody ever tell you it isn’t polite to talk to one woman about another?” Her voice was absolutely flat. “Much less two other women.”
“Min, you’re a friend,” he protested. “I don’t think of you as a woman.” It was the wrong thing to say; he knew it as soon as the words left his mouth.
“Oh?” Tossing back her coat, she placed her hands on her hips. It was not the all-too-familiar angry pose. Her wrists were twisted so her fingers pointed up, and somehow that made it very different. She stood with one knee bent, and that . . . for the first time he really saw her; not just Min, but the way she looked. Not the usual plain brown coat and breeches, but pale red, and embroidered. Not the usual rough-cut hair that barely covered her ears, but ringlets brushing her neck. “Do I look like a boy?”
“Min, I—”
“Do I look like a man? A horse?” In one quick stride she reached him and plumped herself down in his lap.
“Min,” he said, aghast, “what are you doing?”
“Convincing you I’m a woman, woolhead. Don’t I look like a woman? Don’t I smell like a woman?” She smelled faintly of flowers, now that he noticed. “Don’t I feel—? Well, enough of that. Answer the question, sheepherder.”
It was the “sheepherder” and “woolhead” that stilled his alarm. The truth was, she felt remarkably nice sitting there. But she was Min, who thought he was a country boy with hay in his hair and not very much common sense. “Light, Min, I know you’re a woman. I didn’t mean any insult. You’re a friend, too. It’s just that I feel comfortable with you. It doesn’t matter if I look like a fool with you. I can say things to you I wouldn’t say to anybody else, not even Mat or Perrin. When I am around you, all the knots unwind, all the tightness in my shoulders I don’t even feel till it goes. Do you see, Min? I like being around you. I’ve missed you.”
Folding her arms, she looked at him sideways, frowning. Her leg twitched; if her foot had reached the floor, she would have been tapping it. “All that about Elayne. And this . . . Aviendha. Who is she, by the way? It sounds to me as if you love them both. Oh, stop jerking about. You owe me some answers. Saying I’m not—just answer me. Do you love both of them?”
“Maybe I do,” he said slowly. “Light help me, I think maybe I do. Does that make me a lecher, Min, or just a greedy fool?” Her mouth opened and closed; she tossed her head angrily and compressed her lips. He hurried on before she could tell him which one she had picked to fit him; he did not really want to hear it from her. “It hardly matters now anyway. It is done with. I sent Aviendha away, and I will not let her come back. I won’t let myself within a mile of her or Elayne, ten miles if I can help it.”
“For the love of . . . ! Why, Rand? What gives you the right to make a choice like that for them?”
“Min, can’t you see? I am a target. Any woman I love becomes a target, too. Even if the arrow is aimed at me, it could hit her. It could be aimed at her.” Breathing out heavily, he leaned back with his arms on the rose-carved chair arms. She twisted a little, studying him with the most serious expression he had ever seen on her face. Min was always smiling, always a little amused by everything. Just as well she was not now; he was deadly serious himself. “Lan told me he and I are alike in some ways, and it’s true. He said there are men who radiate death. Himself. Me. When a man like that falls in love, the best gift he can give her is to put as much distance as possible between himself and her. You see that, don’t you?”
“What I see . . . ” She was silent for a moment. “Very well. I’m your friend, and I am glad you know it, but don’t bother thinking I will give up. I will convince you I am not a man or a horse.”
“Min, I said I—”
“Oh, no, sheepherder. Not good enough.” She wriggled round on his lap in a way that made him clear his throat, and pinned a finger against his chest. “I want tears in your eyes when you say it. I want drool on your chin and a stammer in your voice. You needn’t think I won’t make you pay.”
Rand could not help laughing. “Min, it really is good to have you here. All you see is a mudfoot from the Two Rivers, isn’t it?”
Her mood changed lightning quick. “I see you, Rand,” she said, strangely quiet. “I see you.” Clearing her throat, she arranged herself primly, hands on her knees. If it was possible to be prim sitting as she was, anyway. “I might as well get on with why I came. Apparently, you know about Salidar. That is going to raise a few eyebrows, I tell you. What you probably do not know is that I didn’t come alone. There’s an embassy from Salidar in Caemlyn, to see you.”
Lews Therin muttered, thunder in the distance. Mention of Aes Sedai always roused him since Alanna and the bonding, if not as much as being around Taim.
Even with Lews Therin grumbling, Rand very nearly smiled. He had suspected as soon as Min handed him the letter from Elayne. Confirmation was almost as good as proof that they were frightened, as he thought. What else could they be, rebels driven to hiding right on the edge of Whitecloak power? Very likely wishing they knew how to creep back into the White Tower, too, chewing their fingers over how to wriggle back into Elaida’s good graces. From what he knew of Elaida, they had small chance, and they had to know it better than he. If they had sent an embassy to the Dragon Reborn, to a man who could channel, then they must be all but ready to accept his protection. This was not like Elaida, who apparently thought he could be bought, and likely kept in a wicker cage like a song sparrow. Egwene’s nebulous promises of Aes Sedai who supported him were about to be fulfilled.
“Who came with you?” he asked. “Maybe I know her.” He did not really know any Aes Sedai except Moiraine, who was dead, but he had met a few. If she was one of those, it might make things a little harder. He really had been Min’s farmboy back then, ready to flinch if an Aes Sedai looked at him.
“There’s more than one, Rand. Actually, there are nine.” He gave a start, and she went on quickly. “It is meant for an honor, Rand; three times what they’d send a king or queen. Merana—she’s in charge; she’s Gray Ajah—Merana will come here alone this afternoon, and no more than one at a time will come anywhere near you unless you feel comfortable. They took rooms at The Crown of Roses, in the New City; they practically took it over, with all the Warders and servants. Merana sent me first because I know you, to smooth the way. They don’t mean you any harm, Rand. I am sure of it.”
“A viewing, Min, or your opinion?” It seemed odd to be carrying on a serious conversation with a woman perched on his knee, but she was Min, after all. That made it different. He just had to keep reminding himself.
“My opinion,” she admitted reluctantly. “Rand, I viewed every one of them every day, all the long way from Salidar. If they intended any harm, I would have to have seen something. I can’t believe nothing would show in that time.” Shifting, she gave him a worried look that quickly changed to a determined firmness. “I might as well tell you something else while I’m about it. I saw an aura around you in the throne room. Aes Sedai are going to hurt you. Women who can channel, anyway. It was all confused; I’m not sure about the Aes Sedai part. But it might happen more than once. I think that’s why it seemed all scrambled.” He looked at her silently, and she smiled. “I like that about you, Rand. You accept what I can do and what I cannot. You don’t ask me if I’m sure, or when it’s going to happen. You never ask for more than I know.”
“Well, I am to ask one thing, Min. Can you be sure these Aes Sedai in your viewing aren’t the Aes Sedai you came with?”
“No,” she said simply. That was one thing he liked; she never tried to evade.
I have to be careful, Lews Therin whispered intently. Even these half-trained girls can be dangerous with nine of them. I must—
I must, Rand thought firmly. A moment of confusion from Lews Therin, and then he fled back to the shadowed recesses. He always did now, if Rand spoke to him. The only problem was that Lews Therin seemed to be seeing and hearing more, and intending to act on it. There had not been another incident of his trying to seize saidin, but Rand was careful now. The man wanted Rand’s mind and body for his own, thought they were his own, and if he managed to gain control even once, Rand was not certain it would not be just that way. Lews Therin Telamon walking and speaking, while Rand al’Thor was only a voice in his head.
“Rand,” Min said anxiously, “don’t look at me like that. I am on your side, if it comes to sides. It might, a little. They think I’ll tell them what you say. I won’t, Rand. They just want to know how to deal with you, what to expect, but I’ll not tell one word you don’t want me to, and if you ask me to lie, I will. They do not know about my viewings. Those are yours, Rand. You know I will read anyone you say, including Merana and the rest.”
He forced the snarl from his face, made sure his voice was mild. “Calm yourself, Min. I know you are on my side.” That was simple truth. Suspecting Min would be like suspecting himself. Lews Therin was dealt with for the moment; it was time to deal with this Merana and her embassy. “Tell them they can come three at a time.” That was what Lews Therin had advised in Cairhien; no more than three at once. The man seemed to believe he could handle three Aes Sedai. He seemed more than a little contemptuous of those who called themselves Aes Sedai now. But what had been a limit in Cairhien was different here. Merana wanted him calmed and smoothed down before even one Aes Sedai came near. Let her chew on an invitation for three to begin and think what it might mean. “Aside from that, none are to enter the Inner City without my permission. And they aren’t to try channeling around me. Tell them that, Min. I’ll know the moment they take hold of the Source, and I will not be pleased. Tell them.”
“They aren’t going to be very pleased either, sheepherder,” she said dryly. “But I will tell them.”
A crash whipped Rand’s head around.
Sulin stood just inside the door in her red-and-white dress, her face so suffused with blood that the scar on her cheek stood out even paler than usual. Her white hair had grown since she put on the livery, but it was still shorter than any of the servants’. Mistress Harfor had had it made into a close cap of curls. Sulin hated that. At her feet was a silver tray bordered in worked gold, with silver-chased golden goblets lying on their sides. The wine pitcher rocked a last time as he looked, and miraculously stopped upright, though there appeared to be as much wine punch on tray and carpet as there could be remaining in the pitcher.
Min was halfway into scrambling to her feet when he caught her by the waist and pulled her back down. Time enough and more to drive home that he was done with Aviendha, and Min would not mind helping. In fact, after a moment of resistance, she leaned into him and put her head on his chest. “Sulin,” he said, “a good servant does not toss trays about. Now, pick it up and do as you’re supposed to.” Staring at him darkly, she all but quivered.
Figuring out how to let her meet her toh while discharging at least some of his obligation to her had been little short of brilliant. Sulin cared for his rooms now, and fetched and carried only for him. She hated it, of course, especially that he saw her doing it every day, but she no longer broke her back scrubbing floors all over the Palace or hauling endless streams of heavy water buckets for laundry. He suspected she would rather every Aiel this side of the Dragonwall saw her shame than allow him to, but he had eased her labors notably, eased his conscience somewhat, and if having to work for him made her decide her toh was met sooner, all to the good. Sulin belonged in cadin’sor carrying her spears, not in livery folding bed linens.
Picking up the tray, she stalked across the room and pushed it roughly onto an ivory-inlaid table. As she started to turn away, he said, “This is Min, Sulin. She’s my friend. She doesn’t know Aiel ways, and I would take it amiss should anything untoward happen to her.” It had just occurred to him that the Maidens might have their own view of him sending away Aviendha and holding another woman almost as soon as she was gone. Their own view, and their own way of dealing with it. “In fact, if any harm comes to her, I’ll consider it done to me.”
“Why should any but Aviendha wish to harm this woman?” Sulin said grimly. “She gave too much time to dreaming over you, and not enough to teaching you what you should know.” Giving herself a shake, she growled, “My Lord Dragon.” He thought it was supposed to be a murmur. She nearly fell over twice in her curtsy before she was upright again, and she slammed the door on her way out.
Min twisted her head to look up at him. “I don’t think I have ever seen a maid like—Rand, I believe she’d have stabbed you if she had a knife.”
“Kick me, maybe,” he chuckled, “but never stab. She thinks I am her long-lost brother.” Confusion clouded Min’s eyes; he could see a hundred questions rising. “It is a long story. I will tell you another time.” Part of it, he would. Nobody was ever going to know what he had to put up with from Enaila and Somara and a few others. Well, the Maidens all knew already, but no one else.
Melaine entered in the Aiel way, which was to say she put her head in at the door, looked around, then followed with the rest of her. He had never puzzled out what would make an Aiel decide not to come in. Chiefs, Wise Ones and Maidens had walked in on him in his smallclothes, in his bed, his bath. Coming closer, the sun-haired Wise One settled herself cross-legged on the carpet a few paces in front of him in a clatter of bracelets and arranged her skirts around her with care. Green eyes regarded Min neutrally.
This time Min made no effort to get up. In fact, from the way she was lying against him, head pressed against his chest, breathing slowly, he was not sure she might not be falling asleep. After all, she had said she had reached Caemlyn in the night. Suddenly he became conscious of his hand fitted in the hollow of her waist, and moved it firmly to the arm of the chair. She sighed almost regretfully and snuggled against him. Going to sleep without a doubt.
“I have news,” Melaine said, “and I am uncertain which is the most important. Egwene has gone from the tents. She goes to a place called Salidar, where there are Aes Sedai. These are the Aes Sedai who may uphold you. At her asking, we did not speak to you of them before, but now I will tell you they are forward, undisciplined, contentious and full of themselves beyond reason.” Her tone was heated toward the end, and her head was thrust forward.
So one of the dreamwalkers in Cairhien had spoken to Melaine in her dreams. That was about all he knew of the dreamwalkers’ skills, and while it could have been useful, they were seldom willing to put it at his disposal. What was different was all that about forward and so forth. Most Aiel behaved as if they thought Aes Sedai might strike them, believed they would deserve it if so, and intended to take the blow without flinching. Even Wise Ones spoke of Aes Sedai respectfully if at all. Clearly a few things had changed. All he said, though, was “I know.” If Melaine had any intention of telling him why, she would without his asking. If she did not, asking would get no answers. “About Egwene, and Salidar too. There are nine from Salidar in Caemlyn right now. Min here came with them.” Min stirred on his chest and murmured something. Lews Therin was grumbling again, just too low to make out, and Rand was glad of the distraction. Min felt . . . good. She would be offended to the sky if she knew. Then again, considering her promise to make him pay, she might laugh. Maybe. She could be quicksilver at times.
Melaine showed no surprise at his knowledge, not even shifting her shawl. Since marrying Bael she seemed to have—“calmed” was not quite the right word; it was much too placid for Melaine—grown less excitable. “That was my second news. You must be wary of them, Rand al’Thor, and use a firm hand. They will respect nothing else.” Most definitely a change.
“You will have two daughters,” Min murmured. “Twins like mirrors.”
If Melaine had been unsurprised before, she made up for it now. Her eyes went wide, and she gave a start that nearly lifted her from the floor. “How could you . . . ?” she began incredulously, then stopped to gather herself. Even so, she went on in a breathless voice. “I myself was uncertain I was with child until this morning. How could you know?”
Min did get up then, giving him a look he knew all too well. It was his fault for some reason. She was not entirely without flaws, if small ones. Fussing with her coat, she looked everywhere except at Melaine, and when her gaze fell on him again, it was a variation of the first look. He had gotten her into this; it was up to him to get her out.
“It is all right, Min,” he said. “She’s a Wise One, and I expect she knows things that would curl your hair.” Except that already was curly. How did women do that, anyway? “I am sure she will promise to keep your secret, and you can trust her promise.” Melaine almost stumbled over her tongue promising.
Just the same, Rand received another look before Min sat down beside Melaine. Reproachful, maybe. How did she expect him to get her out of it? Melaine would not forget because he asked, but she would keep a promise, and a secret. She had kept enough from him.
For all her reluctance, once Min began she gave a much fuller explanation than she had ever given him at one time, perhaps helped by the other woman’s constant questions, and Melaine’s changing attitude as well. It was as if Melaine began to feel that Min’s ability made her an equal of sorts, not at all a wetlander.
“It is remarkable,” Melaine said at last. “Like interpreting the dream without dreaming. Two, you say? Both girls? Bael will be so pleased. Dorindha has given him three sons, but we both know he would like a daughter.” Min blinked and gave her head a hard shake. Of course; she could not know about sister-wives.
From there the two of them passed quickly on to childbirth itself. Neither had ever borne a child, but each had helped midwives.
Rand cleared his throat loudly. It was not that any of the details bothered him. He had helped ewes lamb, mares foal and cows calve. What was irritating was that they sat there with their heads together as though he had ceased to exist. Neither looked around until he cleared his throat again, loud enough that he wondered whether he had strained something.
Melaine leaned closer to Min and spoke in a whisper that could have been heard in the next room. “Men always faint.”
“And always at the worst possible time,” Min agreed in the same tone.
What would they think if they could have seen him in Mat’s father’s barn, blood and birthing fluids to his shoulders and three ribs cracked where he had been kicked because the mare had never foaled before and was frightened? A fine colt that had been, and the mare had not kicked at all the next time.
“Before I faint,” he said wryly, joining them on the carpet, “perhaps one of you would like to say some more about the Aes Sedai?” He would have stood up or sat on the floor before this had his lap not been full. Among the Aiel, only chiefs had chairs, and a chief’s chair was only used for things like pronouncing judgments or receiving the submission of an enemy.
Both women were suitably chastened. Neither said anything, but there was ample shifting of shawl, adjusting of coat and not quite meeting his eye. All that vanished once they got down to talking. Min held tenaciously to her opinion that the Aes Sedai from Salidar meant no harm to Rand and might give aid, suitably handled, which was with all respect in public and in private her reporting to Rand every whisper she overheard. “I’m not being a traitor, you understand, Melaine. I knew Rand before any Aes Sedai except Moiraine, really, and the truth of it is, he took my loyalty long before she died.”
Melaine did not think Min a traitor, quite the contrary, and seemed to think even better of her. Wise Ones did have their own version of the Aiel view of spies. But she argued that with notable exceptions, Aes Sedai could be trusted as far as Shaido, which was to say not until they had been taken captive and made gai’shain. She did not exactly suggest captivity for the Aes Sedai at The Crown of Roses, but she did not miss far. “How can you trust them, Rand al’Thor? I think they have no honor, except for Egwene al’Vere, and she—” Melaine twitched her shawl again. “When an Aes Sedai shows me she has as much honor as Egwene, I will trust her, and not before.”
For his part, Rand listened more than spoke, and saying no more than a dozen or so words, learned a great deal. Answering Melaine’s arguments, Min ran through the embassy name by name, listing what each woman had said about support for Rand, and in truth admitting that all was not exactly rosy. Merana Ambrey and Kairen Stang, a Blue, were both Andoran, and for all that Aes Sedai supposedly forsook all allegiances save the White Tower, perhaps because they were estranged from the Tower, they worried that Rand sat in Caemlyn and might have murdered Morgase. Rafela Cindal, also Blue Ajah, might be pleased with the changes Rand had made in Tear, where once channeling had been outlawed and a girl found able to learn was hurried out of the country, but she said little, and Morgase worried her too. Seonid Traighan, a Green, mulled over every rumor from her native Cairhien and kept her own counsel, and Faeldrin Harella, the second Green sister, sometimes compared Dragonsworn atrocities in Altara and Murandy to what Dragonsworn had done in Tarabon, refusing even to talk about the fact that civil war had ripped her land apart before the first man had sworn to the Dragon there. No matter how Melaine pressed, though, Min insisted that every one of those Aes Sedai acknowledged Rand to be the Dragon Reborn and asked her most carefully, all through the journey from Salidar, what he was like and how he could best be approached without either offending or frightening him.
Rand grunted at that—that they were worried about frightening him—but Melaine began insisting that if most of the women in the embassy had so much reason to be against Rand, then the embassy as a whole surely could not be trusted far enough to fetch dung for the fire. Min spared him an apologetic grimace and rushed on. Arad Doman had seen as much of Dragonsworn as Tarabon, as well as its own civil war, but Demira Eriff, of the Brown Ajah, only talked of two things really: meeting Rand, and the rumor that he had started some sort of school in Cairhien; no man who started a school could be all bad in Demira’s eyes. Berenicia Morsad, a Yellow sister from Shienar, had heard from Shienarans in Salidar that Rand had been received in Fal Dara by the great captain Lord Agelmar Jagad, an honor that seemed to carry considerable weight with her; Lord Agelmar would hardly have received a ruffian, a fool or a scoundrel. It weighed almost as heavily with Masuri Sokawa; she was a Brown, from Arafel, which bordered Shienar. Finally there was Valinde Nathenos, who according to Min showed an eagerness very unlike the White Ajah to have Rand drive Sammael out of Illian; a promise of that, a promise even to try, and Min would not be surprised to see Valinde offer him an oath of fealty. Melaine expressed disbelief, even rolling her eyes; she had never seen an Aes Sedai with that much sense, an attitude Rand found more than surprising considering that she would probably laugh in his face if he asked for such an oath. Min maintained that it was true, though, whatever the other woman said.
“I will show them as much respect as I can without kneeling,” Rand told Min when she finally ran down. For Melaine, he added, “And until they show proof of goodwill, I’ll trust them not one jot.” He thought that should please them both, since each got what she wanted, but from the frowns he received, it pleased neither.
After all that arguing, he half-expected the pair to be at one another’s throats, but it seemed that Melaine’s pregnancy and Min’s viewing had created a bond. When they stood, the women were all smiles and hugs, and Melaine said, “I did not think I would like you, Min, but I do, and I will name one of the girls after you, because you knew of her first. I must go to tell Bael so he will not be jealous that Rand al’Thor knew before him. May you always find water and shade, Min.” To Rand, she added, “Watch these Aes Sedai closely, Rand al’Thor, and give Min your protection when she needs it. They will harm her if they learn she is sworn to you.” Of course, she left with exactly the ceremony with which she had arrived, a nod of the head.
Which left him alone with Min again. Which felt awkward for some reason.