"You are not what I expected," Min finally said.
"I have deceived you?" Aviendha said, frowning.
"No, not that," Min said with a small laugh. "I mean, I was wrong about you, I guess. I wasn't certain what to think, after that night in Caem-lyn when . . . well, that night when we bonded Rand together. I feel close to you, yet distant from you at the same time." She shrugged. "I guess I expected you to come looking for me the moment you got into camp. We had things to discuss. When you didn't, I worried. I thought perhaps I had offended you."
"You have no toh to me," Aviendha said.
"Good," Min said. "I still worry sometimes that we'll . . . come to a confrontation."
"And what good would a confrontation serve?"
"I don't know," Min said with a shrug. "I figured it would be the Aiel way. Challenge me to a fight of honor. For him."
Aviendha snorted. "Fight over a man? Who would do such a thing? If you had toh toward me, perhaps I could demand that we dance the spears—but only if you were a Maiden. And only if I were still one too. I suppose that we could fight with knives, but it would hardly be a fair fight. What honor would there to be gained in fighting one with no skill?"
Min flushed, as if Aviendha had offered her an insult. What a curious reaction. "I don't know about that," Min said, flipping a knife from her sleeve and spinning it across her knuckles. "I'm hardly defenseless." She made the knife vanish up her other sleeve. Why was it that the wetlanders always showed off such flourishes with their knives? Thorn Merrilin had been prone to that as well. Didn't Min understand that Aviendha could have slit the woman's throat thrice over during the time it took to flash that knife like a street performer? Aviendha said nothing, however. Min was obviously proud of the skill, and there was no need to embarrass the woman.
"It is unimportant," Aviendha said, continuing her work. "I would not fight with you unless you gave me grave insult. My first-sister considers you a friend, and I would like to do so as well."
"All right," Min said, folding her arms and looking back at Rand. "Well, I guess that's a good thing. I have to admit, I don't much like the idea of sharing."
Aviendha hesitated, then dipped her finger into the pail. "Neither do I." At least, she didn't like the idea of sharing with a woman she didn't know very well.
"Then what do we do?"
"We continue as we have," Aviendha said. "You have what you wish, and I am occupied by other matters. When it becomes a different time, I will inform you."
"That's . . . straightforward of you," Min said, looking confused. "You have other matters to occupy you? Like dipping your finger in buckets of water?"
Aviendha blushed again. "Yes," she snapped. "Just like that. You will excuse me." She stood and strode away, leaving the buckets. She knew that she should not have lost her temper, but she could not help it. Min, repeatedly pointing out her punishment. Her inability to decipher what the Wise Ones wished of her. Rand al'Thor, constantly putting himself into danger, and Aviendha unable to lift a finger to help him.
She could stand it no longer. She crossed the brown thatch of the manor green, clenching and unclenching her fists, keeping her distance from Rand. The way this day was going, he'd notice her wrinkled finger and ask why she had been soaking it! If he discovered that the Wise Ones had been punishing her, he would probably do something rash and make a fool of himself. Men were like that, Rand al'Thor most of all.
She stalked across the springy ground, the brown thatch patterned with square impressions where tents had stood, threading her way through wetlanders scurrying this way and that. She passed a line of soldiers tossing sacks of grain to the next and loading them in a wagon hitched to two thick-hoofed draft horses.
She kept moving, trying to keep herself from exploding. The truth was, she felt just as likely to do something "rash" as Rand al'Thor would be. Why? Why couldn't she decipher what she was doing wrong? The other Aiel in the camp seemed as ignorant as she, though of course they had not spoken to her of the punishments. She remembered well seeing similar punishments when she'd been a Maiden, and had always known to stay out of Wise One business.
She rounded the wagon, and found herself heading toward Rand al'Thor again. He was talking with three of Davram Bashere's quartermasters, taller than each of them by a head. One of them, a man with a long black mustache, pointed toward the horselines and said something. Rand caught sight of Aviendha and raised his hand toward her, but she turned away quickly, moving toward the Aiel campsite at the north side of the green.
She ground her teeth, trying—unsuccessfully—to tame her anger. Did she not have a right to anger, if only at herself? The world was close to ending and she spent her days being punished! Ahead, she spotted a small cluster of Wise Ones—Amys, Bair and Melaine—standing beside a pile of brown tent packs. The tight, oblong bundles had straps for ease of carrying over the shoulder.
Aviendha should have returned to her pails and redoubled her efforts. But she did not. Like a child with a stick charging a narshcat, she stalked up to the Wise Ones, fuming.
"Aviendha?" Bair asked. "Have you finished your punishment already?"
"No I have not," Aviendha said, stopping in front of them, hands fists at her sides. Wind tugged at her shirt, but she let it flap. Hurrying camp workers—both Aiel and Saldaean—gave the group a wide berth.
"Well?" Bair asked.
"You are not learning quickly enough," Amys added, shaking her white-haired head.
"Not learning quickly enough?" Aviendha demanded. "I have learned everything you have asked of me! I have memorized every lesson, repeated every fact, performed every duty. I have answered all your questions and have seen you nod in approval at each answer!"
She stared them down before continuing. "I can channel better than any Aiel woman alive," she said. "I have left behind the spears, and I welcome my place among you. I have done my duty and sought honor on each occasion. Yet you continue to give me punishments! I will have no more of it. Either tell me what it is you wish of me or send me away."
She expected anger from them. She expected disappointment. She expected them to explain that a mere apprentice was not to question full Wise Ones. She expected, at least, to be given greater punishment for her temerity.
Amys glanced at Melaine and Bair. "It is not we who punish you, child," she said, seeming to choose her words with care. "These punishments come by your own hand."