“Air,” Nynaeve replied. “She used Air. A neat trick, and I think I see how to make something useful with it.”
The use of the One Power was divided into the Five Powers: Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and Spirit. Different Talents required different combinations of the Five Powers. “I don’t understand some of the ways the Five Powers are combined. Take Healing. I can see why it requires Spirit, and maybe Air, but why Water?”
Nynaeve rounded on her. “What are you babbling about? Have you forgotten what we’re doing?” She looked around. They had reached the Accepted’s quarters, a stack of galleries lower than the novices’ quarters, surrounding a garden rather than a court. There was no one in sight except for another Accepted, hurrying along on another level, but she lowered her voice. “Have you forgotten the Black Ajah?”
“I am trying to forget it,” Egwene said fiercely. “For a little while, anyway. I am trying to forget that we just left a dead man. I’m trying to forget that he almost killed me, and that he has a companion who might try it again.” She touched her ear; the drop of blood had dried, but the nick still hurt. “We are lucky we aren’t both dead right now.”
Nynaeve’s face softened, but when she spoke her voice held something of the time when she had been the Wisdom of Emond’s Field, saying words that had to be said for someone’s own good. “Remember that body, Egwene. Remember that he tried to kill you. Kill us. Remember the Black Ajah. Remember them all the time. Because if you forget, just once, the next time, it may be you lying dead.”
“I know,” Egwene sighed. “But I do not have to like it.”
“Did you notice what Sheriam did not mention?”
“No. What?”
“She never wondered who stabbed him. Now, come on. My room is just down here, and you can put your feet up while we talk.”
CHAPTER
16
Hunters Three
Nynaeve’s room was considerably larger than the novice rooms. She had a real bed, not one built into th
e wall, two ladder-back armchairs instead of a stool, and a wardrobe for her clothes. The furnishings were all plain, suitable for a middling successful farmer’s house, but compared to the novices, the Accepted lived in luxury. There was even a small rug, woven with scrolls of yellow and red on blue. The room was not empty when Egwene and Nynaeve entered.
Elayne stood in front of the fireplace, arms crossed beneath her breasts and eyes red at least partly from anger. Two tall young men sprawled in the chairs, all arms and legs. One, with his dark green coat undone to show a snowy shirt, shared Elayne’s blue eyes and red-gold hair, and his grinning face marked him plainly as her brother. The other, Nynaeve’s age and with his gray coat neatly buttoned, was slender and dark of hair and eye. He rose, all sure confidence and lithely muscled grace, when Egwene and Nynaeve came in. He was, Egwene thought not for the first time, the most handsome man she had ever seen. His name was Galad.
“It is good to see you again,” he said, taking her hand. “I have worried much over you. We have worried much.”
Her pulse quickened, and she took back her hand before he should feel it. “Thank you, Galad,” she murmured. Light, but he’s beautiful. She told herself to stop thinking that way. It was not easy. She found herself smoothing her dress, wishing he were seeing her in silk instead of this plain white wool, perhaps even one of those Domani dresses Min had told her of, the ones that clung and seemed so thin you thought they must be transparent even though they were not. She flushed furiously and banished the image from her mind, willed him to look away from her face. It did not help that half the women in the Tower, from scullery maids to Aes Sedai themselves, looked at him as if they had the same thoughts. It did not help that his smile seemed for her alone. In fact, his smile made it worse. Light, if he even suspected what I was thinking, I’d die!
The golden-haired young man leaned forward in his chair. “The question is, where have you been? Elayne dodges my questions as if she has a pocket full of figs and doesn’t want me to have any.”
“I have told you, Gawyn,” Elayne said in a tight voice, “it is none of your affair. I came here,” she added to Nynaeve, “because I did not want to be alone. They saw me, and followed. They would not take no for an answer.”
“Wouldn’t they,” Nynaeve said flatly.
“But it is our affair, sister,” Galad said. “Your safety is very much our affair.” He looked at Egwene, and she felt her heart jump. “The safety of all of you is very important to me. To us.”
“I am not your sister,” Elayne snapped.
“If you want company,” Gawyn told Elayne with a smile, “we can do as well as any. And after what we went through just to be here, we deserve some explanation of where you’ve been. I would rather let Galad thump me all over the practice yard all day than face Mother again for a single minute. I’d rather have Coulin mad at me.” Coulin was Master of Arms, and kept a tight discipline among the young men who came to train at the White Tower whether they aspired to become Warders or just to learn from them.
“Deny the connection if you will,” Galad told Elayne gravely, “but it is still there. And Mother put your safety in our hands.”
Gawyn grimaced. “She’ll have our hides, Elayne, if anything happens to you. We had to talk fast, or she’d have hauled us back home with her. I have never heard of a queen sending her own sons to the headsman, but Mother sounded ready to make an exception if we don’t bring you home safely.”
“I am sure,” Elayne said, “that your fast talk was all for me. None of it was meant to let you stay here studying with the Warders.” Gawyn’s face reddened.
“Your safety was our first concern.” Galad sounded as if he meant it, and Egwene was sure he did. “We managed to convince Mother that if you did return here, you would need someone to look after you.”
“Look after me!” Elayne exclaimed, but Galad went on smoothly.
“The White Tower has become a dangerous place. There have been deaths—murders—with no real explanations. Even some Aes Sedai have been killed, though they have tried to keep that quiet. And I have heard rumors of the Black Ajah, spoken in the Tower itself. By Mother’s command, when it is safe for you to leave your training, we are to return you to Caemlyn.”
For answer, Elayne lifted her chin and half turned away from him.