Robert Jordan - Crossroads of Twilight

“As long as she and the… babes… are well.” Light, how many? More than one could present difficulties. No; she was not going to ask. Elayne surely had the best midwife in Caemlyn. Best just to change the subject quickly. “Have you heard from Rand? Or Nynaeve? I have some words for her, running off with him that way.”

“We have heard from neither,” Aviendha replied, adjusting her shawl as carefully as any Aes Sedai avoiding her Amyrlin’s eyes. Was her tone careful, too?

Egwene clicked her tongue, vexed with herself. She really was beginning to see conspiracies everywhere and suspicions in everything. Rand had gone into hiding, and that was that. Nynaeve was Aes Sedai, free to do as she wished. Even when the Amyrlin commanded, Aes Sedai often found a way to do exactly as they wished anyway. But the Amyrlin was still going to set Nynaeve al’Meara down hard, once she laid hands on her. As for Rand… “I’m afraid trouble is heading your way,” she said.

A fine silver teapot appeared on the table, on a hammered silver tray with two delicate green porcelain cups. A thread of steam rose from the spout. She could have made the tea appear already in the cups, yet pouring seemed part of offering someone tea, even ephemeral tea with no more reality than a dream. You could die of thirst trying to drink what you found in Tel’aran’rhiod, much less what you made, but this tea tasted as if the leaves had come from a new cask and she had put in just the right amount of honey. Taking a seat on one of the chairs, she sipped hers as she explained what had happened in the Hall and why.

After the first words, Aviendha held her cup on her fingertips without drinking and watched Egwene without blinking. Her dark skirts and pale blouse became the cadin’sor, coat and trousers of gray and brown that would fade into shadows. Her long hair was suddenly short, and hidden by a shoufa, the black veil hanging down her chest. Incongruously, the ivory bracelet still hung from her wrist although Maidens of the Spear did not wear jewelry.

“All of this because of the beacon we felt,” she muttered, half to herself, when Egwene finished. “Because they think the Shadow-souled have a weapon.” An odd way to put it.

“What else can it be?” Egwene asked, curious. “Did one of the Wise Ones say something?” It had been a long time since she believed that Aes Sedai possessed all knowledge, and sometimes the Wise Ones revealed pockets of information that could startle the most stolid sister.

Aviendha frowned, and her clothing changed back to the skirt and blouse and shawl, then after a moment to the blue silk and lace, this time with both the Kandori necklace and the ivory bracelet. The dream ring remained on its cord, of course. A shawl appeared around her shoulders. The room was winter cold, yet it hardly seemed that gauzy layer of pale blue lace could provide any warmth. “The Wise Ones are as uncertain as your Aes Sedai. Not as frightened, though, I think. Life is a dream, and everyone wakes eventually. We dance the spears with Leafblighter,” that name for the Dark One had always seemed strange to Egwene, coming as it did from the treeless Waste, “but no one enters the dance certain they will live, or win. I do not think the Wise Ones would consider any alliance with the Asha’man. Is this wise?” she added cautiously. “From what you said, I cannot be certain whether you wish it.”

“I don’t see any other choice,” Egwene said reluctantly. “That hole is three miles across. This is the only hope we have that I can see.”

Aviendha peered into her tea. “And if the Shadowsouled possessed no weapon?”

Suddenly, Egwene realized what the other woman was doing. Aviendha was in training to be a Wise One, and garments or no, she was being a Wise One. Likely that was the reason for the shawl. Part of Egwene wanted to smile. Her friend was changing from the often hotheaded Maiden of the Spear she had first come to know. Another part of her remembered that the Wise Ones did not always have the same goals as Aes Sedai. What sisters valued deeply sometimes meant nothing to the Wise Ones. It made her sad, that she must think of Aviendha as a Wise One instead of just a friend. A Wise One who would see what was good for the Aiel rather than what was good for the White Tower. Still, the question was a good one.

“We do have to deal with the Black Tower sooner or later, Aviendha, and Moria was right; there are already too many Asha’man for any thought of gentling them all. And that’s if we dared think of gentling them before the last Battle. Maybe a dream will show me another way, but none has so far.” None of her dreams had showed her anything useful, so far. Well, not really. “This does give us at least the beginning of a way to handle them. In any case, it’s going to happen. If the Sitters can agree on anything besides the fact they have to try for an agreement. So we must live with it. It might even be for the best, in the long run.”

Aviendha smiled into her teacup. Not an amused smile; she seemed relieved, for some reason. Her voice was serious, though. “You Aes Sedai always think men are fools. Quite often, they are not. More often than you think, at least. Take a care with these Asha’man. Mazrim Taim is far from a fool, and I think he is a very dangerous man.”

“The Hall is aware of that,” Egwene said dryly. That he was dangerous, certainly. The other might be worth pointing out. “I don’t know why we’re even discussing this. It’s out of my hands. The important thing is that eventually sisters will decide the Black Tower is no longer any reason to stay away from Caemlyn, if we’re going to talk with them anyway. Next week or tomorrow, you’ll find sisters popping in just to look in on Elayne and see how the siege is going. What we have to decide is how to keep what we want hidden, hidden. I have a few suggestions, and I hope you have more.”

The notion of strange Aes Sedai appearing in the Royal Palace agitated Aviendha to the point that she flashed from blue silk to cadin’sor to woolen skirt and algode blouse and back again as they talked, though she appeared not to notice. Her face remained smooth enough to suit any sister. She certainly had nothing to worry about if the visiting Aes Sedai uncovered the Kinswomen, or the captive sul’dam and damane, or the bargain with the Sea Folk, but likely she was concerned about the repercussions on Elayne.

The Sea Folk not only made the cadin’sor appear, but a round bull-hide buckler lying beside her chair with three short Aiel spears. Egwene considered asking whether there was any special problem with the Windfinders—any problem beyond the usual, that was—yet she held her tongue. If Aviendha did not mention it, then the matter was something she and Elayne wanted to handle themselves. Surely she would have said something if it was anything Egwene should know about. Or would she?

Sighing, Egwene set her cup on the table, where it promptly disappeared, and rubbed her eyes with her fingers. Suspicion truly was part of her bones, now. And she was unlikely to survive long without it. At least she did not always have to act on her suspicions, not with a friend.

“You are tired,” Aviendha said, once again in the white blouse and dark skirt and shawl, a concerned Wise One with sharp green eyes. “You do not sleep well?”

“I sleep well,” Egwene lied, managing a smile. Aviendha and Elayne had their own worries without letting them know about her headaches. “I can’t think of anything more,” she said, rising. “Can you? Then we’re done,” she went on when the other woman shook her head. “Tell Elayne to take care of herself. You take care of her. And her babes.”