Min sighed, and not only because the Amyrlin meant to hold on to her. The last time she had seen that redheaded novice, the girl had been sneaking off to a wooded part of the grounds with a muscular guard. They would be married, maybe before the end of summer; Min had known that as soon as she saw them together, though the Tower never let a novice leave until the Tower was ready, even one who could not go any further in her training. There was a farm in that pair’s future, and a swarm of children, but it was pointless to tell the Amyrlin that.
“Could you at least let Gawyn and Galad know that Egwene and their sister are all right, Mother?” Asking irked her, and her tone of voice did, too. A child denied a slice of cake begging for a cookie instead. “At least tell them something besides that ridiculous tale about doing penance on a farm.”
“I have told you that is none of your concern. Do not make me tell you again.”
“They don’t believe it any more than I do,” Min got out before the Amyrlin’s dry smile quieted her. It was not an amused smile.
“So you suggest I change where they are supposed to be? After letting everyone think them on a farm? Do you suppose that might raise a few eyebrows? Everyone but those boys accepts it. And you. Well, Coulin Gaidin will just have to work them that much harder. Sore muscles and enough sweat will take most men’s minds off other troubles. Women’s minds, too. You ask many more questions, and I’ll see what a few days scrubbing pots will do for you. Better to lose your services for two or three days than have you poking your nose where it does not belong.”
“You don’t even know if they are in trouble, do you? Or Moiraine.” It was not Moiraine she meant.
“Girl,” Leane said warningly, but Min was not to be stopped now.
“Why haven’t we heard? Rumors reached here two days ago. Two days! Why doesn’t one of those slips on your desk contain a message from her? Doesn’t she have pigeons? I thought you Aes Sedai had people with messenger pigeons everywhere. If there isn’t one in Tear, there should be. A man on horseback could have reached Tar Valon before now. Why—?”
The flat crack of Siuan’s palm on the table cut her off. “You obey remarkably well,” she said wryly. “Child, until we hear something to the contrary, assume the young man is well. Pray that he is.” Leane shivered again. “There’s a saying in the Maule, child,” the Amyrlin went on. “‘Do not trouble trouble till trouble troubles you.’ Mark it well, child.”
There was a timid knock at the door.
The Amyrlin and the Keeper exchanged glances; then two sets of eyes shifted to Min. Her presence was a problem. There was certainly nowhere to hide; even the balcony was clearly visible from the room in its entirety.
“A reason for you to be here,” Siuan muttered, “that doesn’t make you any more than the fool girl you’re supposed to be. Leane, stand ready at the door.” She and the Keeper were on their feet together, Siuan coming around the table while Leane moved to the door. “Take Leane’s seat, girl. Move your feet, child; move your feet. Now look sulky. Not angry, sulky! Stick your lower lip out and stare at the floor. I
may make you wear ribbons in your hair, huge red bows. That’s it. Leane.” The Amyrlin put her fists on her hips and raised her voice. “And if you ever walk in on me unannounced again, child, I will … .”
Leane pulled the door open to reveal a dark novice who flinched at Siuan’s continuing tirade, then dropped a deep curtsy. “Messages for the Amyrlin, Aes Sedai,” the girl squeaked. “Two pigeons arrived at the loft.” She was one of those who had told Min she was beautiful, and she tried to stare past the Keeper with wide eyes.
“This does not concern you, child,” Leane said briskly, taking the tiny cylinders of bone out of the girl’s hand. “Back to the loft with you.” Before the novice finished rising, Leane shut the door, then leaned against it with a sigh. “I have jumped at every unexpected sound since you told me … .” Straightening, she came back to the table. “Two more messages, Mother. Shall I … ?”
“Yes. Open them,” the Amyrlin said. “No doubt Morgase has decided to invade Cairhien after all. Or Trollocs have overrun the Borderlands. It would be of a piece with everything else.” Min kept her seat; Siuan had sounded all too realistic with some of those threats.
Leane examined the red wax seal on the end of one of the small cylinders, no larger than her own finger joint, then broke it open with a thumbnail when she was satisfied it had not been tampered with. The rolled paper inside she extracted with a slim ivory pick. “Nearly as bad as Trollocs, Mother,” she said almost as soon as she began reading. “Mazrim Taim has escaped.”
“Light!” Siuan barked. “How?”
“This only says he was taken away by stealth in the night, Mother. Two sisters are dead.”
“The Light illumine their souls. But we’ve little time to mourn the dead while the likes of Taim are alive and ungentled. Where, Leane?”
“Denhuir, Mother. A village east of the Black Hills on the Maradon Road, above the headwaters of the Antaeo and the Luan.”
“It had to be some of his followers. Fools. Why won’t they know when they are beaten? Choose out a dozen reliable sisters, Leane … .” The Amyrlin grimaced. “Reliable,” she muttered. “If I knew who was more reliable than a silverpike, I’d not have the problems I do. Do the best you can, Leane. A dozen sisters. And five hundred of the guards. No, a full thousand.”
“Mother,” the Keeper said worriedly. “The Whitecloaks—”
“—would not try to cross the bridges if I left them unwatched entirely. They would be afraid of a trap. There is no telling what is going on up there, Leane. I want whoever I send to be ready for anything. And Leane … Mazrim Taim is to be gentled as soon as he is taken again.”
Leane’s eyes opened wide with shock. “The law.”
“I know the law as well as you, but I will not risk having him freed again ungentled. I’ll not risk another Guaire Amalasan, not on top of every thing else.”
“Yes, Mother,” Leane said faintly.
The Amyrlin picked up the second bone cylinder and snapped it in two with a sharp crack to get the message out. “Good news at last,” she breathed, a smile blooming on her face. “Good news. ‘The sling has been used. The shepherd holds the sword.’”
“Rand?” Min asked, and Siuan nodded.
“Of course, girl. The Stone has fallen. Rand al’Thor, the shepherd, has Callandor. Now I can move. Leane, I want the Hall of the Tower convened this afternoon. No, this morning.”