“I don’t know,” Bryne said. “She’s been with them for weeks now and they haven’t killed her yet.”
“They’ll kill her,” Gawyn said urgently. “You know they will. Perhaps you parade a fallen enemy before your soldiers for a time, but eventually you have to mount his head on a pike to let them know he’s dead and gone. You know I’m right.”
Bryne regarded him, then nodded. “Perhaps I do. But there’s still nothing I can do. I’m bound by oaths, Gawyn. I can’t do anything unless that girl instructs me to.”
“You’d let her die?”
“If that’s what it takes to keep my oath, then yes.”
If Bryne was bound by oath . . . well, he’d sooner hear an Aes Sedai tell a lie than see Gareth Bryne break his word. But Egwene! There had to be something he could do!
“I’ll try to get you an audience with some of the Aes Sedai I serve,” Bryne said. “Perhaps they can do something. If you persuade them that a rescue is needed, and that the Amyrlin would want it, then we’ll see.”
Gawyn nodded. It was something at least. “Thank you.”
Bryne waved indifferently. “Though I should see you in the stocks. For wounding three of my men, if nothing else.”
“Have an Aes Sedai Heal them,” Gawyn said. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve no lack of sisters to bully you.”
“Bah,” Bryne said. “I can rarely get them to Heal anyone unless the soldier’s life is threatened. I had a man take a bad spill while riding the other day, and I was told that Healing would only teach him to be reckless. ‘Pain is its own lesson,’ the blasted woman said. ‘Perhaps next time he won’t see fit to make sport for his friends while riding.’ ”
Gawyn grimaced. “But surely they’ll make an exception for those men. After all, an enemy did do the wounding.”
“We’ll see,” Bryne said. “The sisters rarely visit the soldiers. They’ve their own business to be about.”
“There’s one in the outer camp now,” Gawyn said absently, glancing over his shoulder.
“Younger girl? Dark hair, without the ageless face?”
“No, this was an Aes Sedai. I could tell because of the face. She was kind of plump, with lighter hair.”
“Probably just scouting for Warders,” Bryne said, sighing. “They do that.”
“I don’t think so,” Gawyn said, glancing over his shoulder. “She was hiding among the washwomen.” As he thought about it, he realized that she could very well be a spy for the White Tower loyalists.
Bryne’s frown deepened. Perhaps he had the same thoughts. “Show me,” he said, striding toward the tent flaps. He threw them aside, walking back out into the morning light, Gawyn following.
“You never did explain what you are doing here, Gawyn,” Bryne said as they walked through the orderly camp, soldiers saluting their general as he passed.
“I told you,” Gawyn said, hand resting comfortably on the pommel of his sword. “I am going to find a way to get Egwene out of that death trap.”
“I didn’t mean what you’re doing in my camp. I meant why you were in the area in the first place. Why aren’t you back in Caemlyn, helping your sister?”
“You have news of Elayne,” Gawyn said, stopping. Light! He should have asked earlier. He really was tired. “I heard that she was in your camp earlier. She’s gone back to Caemlyn? Is she safe?”
“She hasn’t been with us for a long while,” Bryne said. “But she seems to be doing well.” He stopped, glancing at Gawyn. “You mean you don’t know?”
“What?”
“Well, rumors are unreliable,” Bryne said. “But I have confirmed many of them with the Aes Sedai, who have been Traveling to Caemlyn to listen for news. Your sister holds the Lion Throne. It seems that she’s undone much of the mess your mother left for her.”
Gawyn took a deep breath. Thank the Light, he thought, closing his eyes. Elayne lived. Elayne held the throne. He opened his eyes, and the overcas
t sky seemed a little more bright. He continued walking, Bryne falling into step beside him.
“You really didn’t know,” Bryne said. “Where have you been, lad? You’re the First Prince of the Sword now, or you will be once you return to Caemlyn! Your place is at your sister’s side.”
“Egwene first.”