“The child cannot be faulted for revealing a secret she did not know,” Careane Fransi said from Elayne’s left, shifting her bulk in her green-and-gilt armchair. She was not stout, but almost, with shoulders as wide and arms as thick as most men.
“Tower law does not allow for excuses,” Sareitha put in quickly, in somewhat self-important tones, her normally inquisitive brown eyes stern. “Once mere excuses are allowed, inevitably lesser and lesser excuses will become acceptable, until law itself is gone.” Her high-backed chair stood to the right. Only she wore her shawl, but Merilille’s sitting room had been arranged as a court, though no one called it that. So far, no one had. Merilille, Adeleas and Vandene confronted Elayne like judges, Sareitha’s chair was placed where the Seat of Rebuke would be, and Careane’s the Seat of Pardon, but the Domani Green who would have been her defender nodded thoughtfully as the Tairen Brown who would have been her prosecutor continued. “She has admitted guilt from her own mouth. I recommend that the child be confined to the palace until we leave, with some good hard work to occupy her mind and her hands. I also recommend a firm dose of the slipper at regular intervals to remind her not to go behind sisters’ backs. And the same for Nynaeve, as soon as she can be found.”
Elayne swallowed. Confined? Perhaps they did not need to name this a trial for it to be one. Sareitha might not yet have achieved the ageless face, but the weight of the other women’s years pressed at Elayne. Adeleas and Vandene with their hair nearly all white, even their ageless faces echoing years. Merilille’s hair was glossy black, yet Elayne would not have been surprised to learn she had worn the shawl as long or longer than most women not Aes Sedai lived. For that matter, Careane might have, as well. Not one of them approached her own strength in the Power, but . . . All that experience as Aes Sedai, all that knowledge. All that . . . authority. A heavy reminder that she was only eighteen and had been in novice white a year ago.
Careane made no move to rebut Sareitha’s suggestions. Perhaps she best go on defending herself. “Plainly this secret you speak of has something to do with the Circle, but — “
“The Kin are no concern of yours, child,” Merilille broke in sharply. Drawing a deep breath, she smoothed gold-slashed skirts of silvery gray. “I propose to pass sentence,” she said in a cold voice.
“I concur, and defer to your decision,” Adeleas said. She gave Elayne a disappointed frown and shook her head.
Vandene waved her hand dismissively. “I concur and defer. But I agree with the Seat of Rebuke.” Careane’s look might have contained a sliver of sympathy. Maybe a sliver.
Merilille opened her mouth.
The timid knock at the door sounded quite loud in the momentary, thunderous silence.
“What under the Light?” Merilille muttered angrily. “I told Pol not to let anyone disturb us. Careane?”
Not the youngest, but the lowest in strength, Careane stood and glided to the door. Despite her heft, she always moved like a swan.
It was Pol herself, Merilille’s maid, who popped in curtsying left and right. A slender, gray-haired woman usually possessed of a dignity to rival that of her mistress, she wore an anxious frown now, as well she might, barging in after Merilille’s instructions. Elayne had not been so glad to see anyone since . . . since Mat Cauthon appeared in the Stone of Tear. A horrendous thought. If Aviendha did not say she had met toh sufficiently soon, she might just see if asking the man to beat her after all could end the agony.
“The Queen brought this herself,” Pol announced breathily, proffering a letter sealed with a large red lump of wax. “She said if I didn’t give it to Elayne right away, she’d bring it in herself. She said it’s about the child’s mother.” Elayne almost ground her teeth. The sisters’ serving women had all picked up their mistresses’ way of talking about Nynaeve and her, if seldom where they could hear.
Furious, she snatched the letter without waiting for Merilille to say she could — if that was what she would have said — and broke the seal with her thumb.
My Lady Elayne,
I greet the Daughter-Heir of Andor with joyous news. I have but just learned that your mother, Queen Morgase, lives and is at present the guest of Pedron Niall in Amador, and wishes above all to be reunited with you so that you may return to Andor together in triumph. I offer escort through the bandits now infesting Altara, so that you may reach your mother’s side in safety and all speed. Forgive these few poor words, scribbled in haste, but I know you would wish to learn the wondrous news as soon as possible. Until I can leave you at your mother’s side.
Sealed in the Light,
Jaichim Carridin
The paper crumpled in her fist. How dare he? The pain of her mother’s death, without even a body to be buried, was only beginning to fade, and Carridin dared mock her this way? Embracing the True Source, she hurled the foul lies away from her and channeled; fire flared in midair, so hot that only a dust of ash fell to the blue-and-gold floor tiles. That for Jaichim Carridin. And as for these . . . women! The pride of a thousand years of Andoran queens put steel into her backbone.
Merilille surged to her feet. “You were not given permission to channel! You will release the —!”
“Leave us, Pol,” Elayne said. “Now.” The serving woman stared, but Elayne’s mother had taught her well the voice of command, the voice of a Queen from her throne. Pol bobbed a curtsy and was moving before she realized. Once under way, she hesitated only an instant before hurrying out and closing the door behind her. Whatever was about to happen plainly was for Aes Sedai alone.
“What has gotten into you, child?” Pure fury submerged the remnants of Merilille’s regathered calm. “Release the Source immediately, or I vow, I’ll fetch a slipper myself this minute!”
“I am Aes Sedai.” The words came out like winter stone, and Elayne meant them to. Carridin’s lies and these women. Merilille threatened to slipper her? They would acknowledge her rightful place as a sister. She and Nynaeve had found the Bowl! As good as, anyway, and the arrangements for its use were under way. “You propose to punish me for endangering a secret apparently known only to sisters, but no one bothered to tell me this secret when I attained the shawl. You suggest punishing me like a novice or Accepted, but I am Aes Sedai. I was raised to the shawl by Egwene al’Vere, the Amyrlin you claim to serve. If you deny that Nynaeve and I are Aes Sedai, then you deny the Amyrlin Seat who sent me to find the Bowl of the Winds, which we have done. I will not have it! I call you to account, Merilille Ceandevin. Submit to the will of the Amyrlin Seat, or I will call judgment on you as a rebellious traitor!”
Merilille’s eyes bulged, and her mouth hung open, but she appeared composed beside Careane or Sareitha, who looked about to choke to death on incredulity. Vandene seemed mildly taken aback, a thoughtful finger pressed to her lips beneath slightly widened eyes, while Adeleas sat forward, studying Elayne as if seeing her for the first time.
Channeling, Elayne floated one of the tall armchairs to her and sat, composing her skirts. “You may as well sit, too, Merilille.” She still used the voice of command — apparently it was the only way to make them listen — but she was startled when Merilille actually sank back down slowly, staring at her pop-eyed.
Outside, she maintained a calm, cool façade, but inside, anger bubbled. No, it boiled. Secrets. She had always thought Aes Sedai kept too many secrets, even from each other. Especially from each other. True, she kept some herself, but only at necessity, and not from anyone who needed to know. And these women had thought to punish her! “Your authority comes from the Hall of the Tower, Merilille; Nynaeve’s and mine from the Amyrlin Seat. Ours supersedes yours. From now on, you will take your i
nstructions from Nynaeve or me. We will of course listen carefully to any advice you might offer.” She had thought Merilille’s eyes bulged before, but now . . .
“Impossible,” the Gray spluttered. “You are — “
“Merilille!” Elayne said sharply, leaning forward. “Do you still deny the authority of your Amyrlin? Do you still dare?” Merilille’s mouth worked soundlessly. She wet her lips. She shook her head jerkily. Elayne felt a thrill of exultation; all that about Merilille taking direction was stuff and nonsense, of course, but she would be acknowledged. Thom and her mother both said you must begin by asking for ten to get one. Still, that was not enough to damp her anger. She had half a mind to fetch a slipper herself and see how far she could push this. Except, that would shatter everything. They would remember her age fast enough then, and how short a time ago she had put off a novice dress; they might even begin thinking of her as a foolish child again. Which thought stoked her fury anew. But she contented herself with, “While you think quietly on what else I should be told as Aes Sedai, Merilille, Adeleas and Vandene will instruct me in this secret I endangered. Do you mean to tell me the Tower has known of the Circle — these Kin, as you call them — all along?” Poor Reanne and her hopes to avoid Aes Sedai notice.
“As near as they could make themselves come to sisters, I suppose,” Vandene replied. Carefully. She studied Elayne as intently as her sister did, now. Though a Green, she had many of the same mannerisms as Adeleas. Careane arid Sareitha looked stunned, disbelieving eyes swinging from a silent, red-cheeked Merilille to Elayne and back.