That made Nynaeve wince. Moiraine was the Aes Sedai who had brought her and Rand out of the Two Rivers and changed their lives. Her and Rand and Egwene and Mat and Perrin. She had wanted for so long to make Moiraine pay for what she had done to them that losing her was like losing a piece of herself. But Moiraine was dead in Cairhien, taking Lanfear with her; she was fast becoming a legend among the Aes Sedai here, the only Aes Sedai to have killed one of the Forsaken, much less two. The only good thing Nynaeve could find in it, much as it shamed to find any good, was that now Lan was freed from being Moiraine’s Warder. If she could ever find him.
Siuan took up immediately where Leane left off. “We can’t afford to let the boy go sailing off with no guidance at all. Who knows what he might do? Yes, yes, I know you’re ready to argue for him, but I don’t care to hear it. I’m trying to balance a live silverpike on my nose, girl. We can’t let him grow too strong before he accepts us, and yet we don’t dare hold him back too much. And I’m trying to keep Sheriam and the others convinced they should support him when half the Hall secretly don’t want anything to do with him, and the other half think in their heart of hearts that he should be gentled, Dragon Reborn or not. In any case, whatever your arguments, I suggest you heed Sheriam. You won’t change any minds, and Tiana doesn’t have enough novices here to keep her busy.”
Elayne’s face tightened angrily. Tiana Noselle, a Gray sister, was Mistress of Novices here in Salidar. An Accepted had to step considerably further out of line to be sent to Tiana than did a novice, but by the same token, the visit was always that much more shaming and painful. Tiana might show a little kindness to a novice, if only a little; she felt Accepted should know better, and made sure they felt the same long before they left her small cubbyhole of a study.
Nynaeve had been studying Siuan, and now something popped into her head. “You knew all about this . . . embassy, or whatever it is . . . didn’t you? You two always have your heads together with Sheriam and her little circle.” The Hall might have all the supposed authority until they chose an Amyrlin, but Sheriam and the handful of other Aes Sedai who had first organized the arrivals in Salidar still kept the real control of things. “How many are they sending, Siuan?” Elayne gasped; plainly she had not thought of this. That showed how upset she was. Usually she caught nuances Nynaeve missed.
Siuan denied nothing. Since being stilled she could lie like a wool merchant, but when she decided to be open, she was as open as a slap in the face. “Nine. ‘Enough to do honor to the Dragon Reborn’ — fish guts! An embassy to a king is seldom more than three! — ‘but not enough to frighten him.’ If he’s learned enough to be frightened.”
“You had better hope he has,” Elayne said coldly. “If he hasn’t, then nine may be eight too many.”
Thirteen was the dangerous number. Rand was strong, perhaps as strong as any man since the Breaking, but thirteen Aes Sedai linked could overwhelm him, shield him from saidin, and take him prisoner. Thirteen was the number assigned when a man was gentled, though Nynaeve had begun to think the assignment more custom than requirement. Aes Sedai did a good many things because they always had.
Siuan’s smile was far from pleasant. “I wonder why no one else thought of that? Think, girl! Sheriam does, and so does the Hall. Only one will go near him at first, and no more after that than he’s comfortable with. But he’ll know nine came, and somebody will certainly tell him what an honor that is.”
“I see,” Elayne said in a small voice. “I should have known one of you would think of it. I’m sorry.” That was another good thing about her. She could be stubborn as a cross-eyed mule, but when she decided she was wrong, she admitted it as nicely as any village woman. Most unusual for a noble.
“Min will be going too,” Leane said. “Her . . . talents may be useful to Rand. The sisters won’t know that part, of course. She can keep her secrets.” As if that were the important thing.
“I see,” Elayne said again, flatly this time. She made an effort to brighten her tone, a miserable failure. “Well, I see you’re busy with . . . with Marigan. I did not mean to disturb you. Please, don’t let me interrupt.” She was gone before Nynaeve could open her mouth, the door banging shut behind her.
Angrily, Nynaeve rounded on Leane. “I thought Siuan was the mean one of you, but that was vicious!”
It was Siuan who answered. “When two women love the same man, it means trouble, and when the man is Rand al’Thor . . . The Light knows how sane he still is, Or what course they might send him off on. If there’s any hair-pulling and clawing to be done, let them do it now, here.”
Without thought, Nynaeve’s hand found her braid and jerked it back over her shoulder. “I ought to . . . ” Trouble was, there was little she could do, and nothing to make any difference. “We’ll go on from where we left off when Elayne came in. But, Siuan . . . If you ever do something like that to her again,” or to me, she thought, “I’ll make you sorry you — Where do you think you’re going?” Siuan had scraped back her chair and risen, and after a glance, Leane did the same.
“We have work,” Siuan said curtly, already heading for the door.
“You promised to make yourself available, Siuan. Sheriam told you to.” Not that Sheriam thought it any less a waste of time than Siuan, but Nynaeve and Elayne had earned rewards, and a certain amount of indulgence. Like Marigan to be their maid, to give them more time for
Accepted’s studies.
Siuan gave her an amused look from the door. “Maybe you’ll complain to her? And explain how you do your research? I want time with Marigan this evening; I have some more questions.”
As Siuan left, Leane said sadly, “It would be nice, Nynaeve, but we have to do what we can do. You could try Logain.” Then she was gone, too.
Nynaeve scowled. Studying Logain had taught her even less than studying the two women. She was no longer certain she could learn anything from him at all. Anyway, the last thing she wanted was to Heal a gentled man. He made her nervous in any case.
“You bite at one another like rats in a sealed box,” Marigan said. “On the evidence, your chances are not very good. Perhaps you should consider . . . other options,”
“Hold your filthy tongue!” Nynaeve glared at her. “Hold it, the Light burn you!” Fear still oozed through the bracelet, but something else as well, something almost too feeble to exist. A faint spark of hope, perhaps. “The Light burn you,” she muttered.
The woman’s real name was not Marigan, but Moghedien. One of the Forsaken, trapped with her own overweening pride and held prisoner in the midst of Aes Sedai. Only five women in the world knew, none Aes Sedai, but keeping Moghedien secret was purest necessity. The Forsaken’s crimes made her execution as sure as the sun rising. Siuan agreed; for every Aes Sedai who counseled waiting, if any did, ten would demand immediate justice. Into an unmarked grave with her would go all her knowledge from the Age of Legends, when things undreamed of today were done with the Power. Nynaeve was not sure she believed half of what the woman told her of that Age. She certainly understood less than half.
Digging information out of Moghedien was not easy. Sometimes it was like Healing; Moghedien had never been interested in much that could not advance her, preferably by shortcuts. The woman was hardly likely to reveal the truth, but Nynaeve suspected she had been some sort of swindler or the like before swearing her soul over to the Dark One. Sometimes she and Elayne just did not know the questions to ask. Moghedien seldom volunteered anything, that was certain. Even so, they had learned a great deal, and passed most on to the Aes Sedai. As results of their researches and studies as Accepted, of course. They had gained a lot of credit.
She and Elayne would have kept knowledge of her to themselves if they could, but Birgitte had known from the start, and Siuan and Leane had to be told. Siuan had known enough of the circumstances that led to Moghedien’s capture to demand a full explanation, and had the leverage to obtain one. Nynaeve and Elayne knew some of Siuan and Leane’s secrets; they seemed to know all of her and Elayne’s except the truth about Birgitte. It made for a precarious balance, with the advantage to Siuan and Leane. Besides, bits of Moghedien’s revelations concerned supposed Darkfriend plots and hints of what the other Forsaken might be up to. The only way to pass those on was to make them seem to have come from Siuan and Leane’s agents. Nothing about the Black Ajah — hidden deep and long denied — though that interested Siuan most. Darkfriends disgusted her, but the very idea of Aes Sedai swearing themselves to the Dark One was enough to screw Siuan’s anger to an icy rage. Moghedien claimed to have been afraid to go near any Aes Sedai, and that was believable enough. Fear was a permanent part of the woman. No wonder she had hidden in the shadows enough to be called the Spider. All in all, she was a treasure trove too valuable to give to the headsman, yet most Aes Sedai would not see it so. Most Aes Sedai might refuse to touch or trust anything learned from her.
Guilt and revulsion stabbed Nynaeve, not for the first time. Could any amount of knowledge justify keeping one of the Forsaken from justice? Turning her in meant punishment, probably dreadful, for everyone involved, not just herself, but Elayne and Siuan and Leane. Turning her in meant Birgitte’s secret would come out. And all that knowledge lost. Moghedien might know nothing of Healing, but she had given Nynaeve a dozen hints of what was possible, and there had to be more in her head. With those to guide her, what might she discover eventually?
Nynaeve wanted a bath, and it had nothing to do with the heat. “We will talk about the weather,” she said bitterly.
“You know more about controlling weather than I do.” Moghedien sounded weary, and an echo slid through the bracelet. There had been enough questions on the subject. “All I know is that what is happening is the Great — the Dark One’s work.” She had the nerve to smile ingratiatingly at the slip. “No mere human is strong enough to change that.”
It took effort for Nynaeve not to grind her teeth. Elayne knew more about working weather than anyone else in Salidar, and she said the same. Including the Dark One part, though any but a fool would know that, with the heat so strong when it should be coming on for snow, with no rain and the streams drying. “Then we’ll talk about using different weaves to Heal different illnesses.” The woman said that took more time than what was done now, but all the strength for it came from the Power, not from the patient and the woman channeling. Of course, she said men had actually been better at some kinds of Healing, and Nynaeve was not about to believe that. “You must have seen it done at least once.”
She settled down to bore away for nuggets in the dross. Some knowledge was worth a great deal. She just wished she did not feel that she was digging through slime.