Robert Jordan - The Path of Daggers

"It was necessary," Aviendha cut in. A babble erupted from the mounted Aes Sedai crowding around her and Vandene, but she glared at them and raised her voice over theirs. "I know the dangers, Vandene Namelle, but it was necessary. Is this another thing you Aes Sedai cannot do? The Wise Ones say any woman can learn, if she is taught, some women more and some less, but any woman, if she can pick out embroidery." She did not quite sneer. Not quite.

"This is not embroidery, girl!" Merilille’s voice was deep winter ice. "Whatever so-called training you received among your people, you cannot possibly know what you are playing with! You will promise me — swear to me! — that you will never do this again!"

"Her name should be in the novice book," Sareitha said firmly, glaring across the Bowl still held firmly to her bosom. "I’ve always said it. She should be entered in the book." Careane nodded, her stern gaze measuring Aviendha for a novice dress.

"That might not be necessary for the moment," Adeleas told Aviendha, leaning forward in her saddle, "but you must let yourself be guided by us." The Brown sister’s tone was much milder than the others’, yet she was not making a suggestion.

A month or so earlier, Aviendha might have begun to wilt under all that Aes Sedai disapproval, but not now. Elayne hurriedly pushed in among the horses before her friend decided to draw the knife she was fondling. Or to do something worse. "Maybe somebody should ask why she thought it was necessary," she said, slipping an arm around Aviendha’s shoulders as much to keep her arms at her sides as for comfort.

Aviendha did not quite include her in the exasperated look she gave the other sisters. "This leaves no residue," she said patiently. Too patiently. "The residues of a weave this large might be read two days from now."

Merilille snorted, a very strong sound to come from that slight body. "That is a rare Talent, girl. Neither Teslyn nor Joline has it. Or do you Aiel wilders all learn that as well?"

"Few can do it," Aviendha admitted calmly. "But I can." That produced a different sort of stare, from Elayne as well; it was a very rare Talent. She did not seem to notice. "Do you claim that none of the Shadowsouled can?" she went on. The tightness of her shoulder under Elayne’s hand said she was not so cool as she pretended. "Are you such fools that you leave tracks for your enemies to follow? Any who could read the residues could make a gateway to this spot."

That would have taken great dexterity, very great dexterity, but the suggestion was enough to leave Merilille blinking. Adeleas opened her mouth, then closed it without speaking, and Vandene frowned thoughtfully. Sareitha simply looked worried. Who could say what Talents the Forsaken had, what skill?

Strangely, all the fierceness drained out of Aviendha. Her eyes fell, her shoulders loosened. "Perhaps I should not have taken the risk," she muttered. "With that man watching me, I could not think clearly, and when he disappeared…" A little of her spirit returned, but not a great deal. "I do not think a man could read my weaves," she said to Elayne, "but if he was one of the Shadowsouled, or even the gholam … The Shadowsouled know more than any of us. If I was wrong, I have great toh . But I do not think I was. I do not think it."

"What man?" Nynaeve demanded. Her hat had been knocked askew in pushing among the horses, and that, with the tight frown she directed at everyone impartially, made her look ready for a fight. Perhaps she was. Careane’s gelding accidentally nudged her with a shoulder, and she swatted the blue dun’s nose.

"A servant," Merilille said dismissively. "Whatever orders Tylin gave, Altaran servants are an independent lot. Or perhaps her son; that boy is too curious by half."

The sisters around her nodded, and Careane said, "One of the Forsaken would hardly have stood and watched. You said so yourself." She was patting her gelding’s neck and frowning accusingly at Nynaeve — Careane was one of those who gave her horse the sort of affection most people reserved for infants — she was frowning at Nynaeve, and Nynaeve took the words for her, too.

"Maybe it was a servant, and maybe it was Beslan. Maybe." Nynaeve’s sniff said she did not believe it. Or that she wanted them to believe she did not; she could tell you to your face that you were a blind idiot, yet let anyone else say it, and she would defend you until she went hoarse. Of course, she did not seem ready to decide whether she liked Aviendha, but she definitely did not like the older Aes Sedai. She tugged her hat almost straight, and her frown swept across them, then started over. "Whether it was Beslan or the Dark One, there’s no call to stand here all day. We need to get ready and move on to the farm. Well? Move!" She clapped her hands sharply, and even Vandene gave a little start.

There was little preparation left to do when the sisters moved their horses away. Lan and the other Warders had not sat on their heels once they realized there was no danger. Some of the servants had gone back through the gateway before Aviendha disposed of it, but the rest stood with the three dozen or so packhorses, occasionally glancing at the Aes Sedai, clearly wondering what marvel they might produce next. The Windfinders were all mounted, if awkwardly, and holding their reins as though expecting their horses to bolt any moment, or perhaps sprout wings and take flight. So were the Knitting Circle, with a good deal more grace, unconcerned that their skirts and petticoats were pushed up past their knees, and with Ispan still hooded and tied across a saddle like a sack. She could not possibly have sat upright on a horse, yet even Sumeko’s eyes popped whenever they touched her.

Glaring about her, Nynaeve looked ready to tongue-lash everybody into doing what they had already done, but only until Lan handed her the reins of her plump brown mare. She had adamantly refused the gift of a better horse from Tylin. Her hand trembled a little when it touched Lan’s, and her face changed color as she swallowed the anger she had been about to unleash. When he offered a hand for her foot, she stared at him for a moment as if wondering what he was about, then colored again when he boosted her to her saddle. Elayne could only shake her head. She hoped she did not turn into an idiot when she married. If she married.

Birgitte brought her silvery-gray mare and the yellow dun Aviendha rode, but she seemed to understand that Elayne wanted a private word with Aviendha. She nodded almost as if Elayne had spoken, swung up onto her mouse-colored gelding, and rode to where the other Warders were waiting. They greeted her with nods and began discussing something in low voices. By the glances directed at the sisters, the "something" had to do with taking care of Aes Sedai whether Aes Sedai wanted care taken or not. Including herself, Elayne noted grimly. There was no time now for that, though. Aviendha stood fiddling with her horse’s reins, staring at the animal like a novice staring at a kitchen full of greasy pots. Very likely, Aviendha saw small difference between having to scrub pots and having to ride.

Snugging her green riding gloves, Elayne casually shifted Lioness to block them from the others’ view, then touched Aviendha’s arm. "Talking to Adeleas or Vandene might help," she said gently. She had to be very careful here, as careful as with any ter’angreal . "They’re old enough to know more than you might suspect. There has to be a reason you’ve been… having trouble… with Traveling." That was a mild way of putting it. Aviendha almost had failed to make the weave work at all, in the beginning. Careful. Aviendha was far more important than any ter’angreal ever could be. "They might be able to help."