“You could hire help,” she noted. “A serving girl or two.”
“What? And let them have all the fun?” He said it in all seriousness.
Cadsuane took a sip of her wine. An excellent vintage indeed, perhaps expensive enough that an inn—no matter how splendid—shouldn’t have had it readily available behind the bar. She sighed. Quillin’s Domani wife was one of the most accomplished silk merchants in the city; many Sea Folk vessels sought her out personally to trade with her. Quillin had kept accounts for his wife’s business for some twenty years before he had retired, both of them wealthy.
And what did he do with it? Open an inn. It had apparently always been a dream of his. Cadsuane had learned long ago to stop questioning the odd penchants of people with too much free time.
“What news of the city, Quillin?” she asked, sliding a small bag of coins across the table toward him.
“Mistress, you offend,” he said, raising his hands. “I couldn’t take your coin!”
She raised an eyebrow. “I have little patience for games today, Master Tasil. If you don’t want it yourself, then give it to the poor. Light knows there are enough of those in the city these days.”
He sighed, but reluctantly pocketed the purse. Perhaps that was why his common room was often empty; an innkeeper who had no regard for money was a strange beast. Many of the common men would find Quillin as discomforting as the immaculate floor and tasteful decorations.
Quillin was, however, very good for information. His wife shared her gossip with him. With her face, he obviously knew she was Aes Sedai. Namine—his eldest daughter—had gone to the White Tower, eventually choosing the Brown and settling into the library there. A Domani librarian was nothing unusual—the Terhana library in Bandar Eban was one of the greatest in the world. However, Namine’s casual, yet keen, understanding of current events had been enough of a curiosity that Cadsuane had followed the connection, hoping to discover well-placed parents. Ties such as a daughter in the White Tower often made people amiable toward other Aes Sedai. That had led her to Quillin. Cadsuane didn’t trust him entirely, but she was fond of him.
“What news of the city?” Quillin asked. Honestly, what innkeeper wore a silk embroidered vest beneath his apron? No wonder people found the inn strange. “Where should I start? There has almost been too much to keep track of lately!”
“Start with Alsalam,” Cadsuane said, sipping her wine. “When was he last seen?”
“By credible witnesses, or by hearsay?”
“Tell me both.”
“There have been lesser windborn and merchants who claim to have received personal communication from the King as recently as a week ago, my Lady, but I regard such claims with skepticism. Very soon after the King’s . . . hiatus began you could find forged letters claiming to dictate his wishes. I have seen some few sets of orders with my own eyes that I trust—or, at least, I trust the seal on them—but the King himself? I’d say it has been almost half a year since anyone I can vouch for has seen him.”
“His whereabouts, then?”
The innkeeper shrugged, looking apologetic. “For a while, we were certain that the Council of Merchants was behind the disappearance. They rarely let the King out of their sight, and with the troubles to the south, we all assumed they’d taken His Majesty to safety.”
“But?”
“But my sources,” that meant his wife, “aren’t convinced any longer. The Council of Merchants has been too disorganized lately, each member trying to keep their own chunk of Arad Doman from unraveling. If they’d had the King, they’d have revealed him by now.”
Cadsuane tapped the side of her cup with a fingernail, annoyed. Could there be truth, then, to the al’Thor boy’s belief that one of the Forsaken had Alsalam? “What else?”
“There are Aiel in the city, Lady,” Quillin said, scrubbing at an invisible spot on the tabletop.
S
he gave him a flat stare. “I hadn’t noticed.”
He chuckled. “Yes, yes, obvious, I suppose. But the exact number in the area is twenty-four thousand. Some say the Dragon Reborn has them here just to prove his power and authority. After all, who ever heard of Aiel distributing food? Half the poor in the city are too frightened to go to the handouts, for fear the Aiel have used some of their poisons on the grain.”
“Aiel poisons?” She’d never heard that particular rumor before.
Quillin nodded. “Some claim that as the reason for the food spoilages, my Lady.”
“But food was spoiling in the country long before the Aiel arrived, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Quillin said. “But it can be hard to remember things like that in the face of so much bad grain. Besides, spoilage has grown much worse since the Lord Dragon arrived.”
Cadsuane covered her frown by taking a sip of wine. It had grown worse with al’Thor’s arrival? Was that just rumor, or was it the truth? She lowered her cup. “And the other strange occurrences in the city?” she asked carefully, to see what she could discover.
“You’ve heard of those, then?” Quillin said, leaning in. “People don’t like to speak of them, of course, but my sources hear things. Stillborn children, men dying from falls that should barely have caused a bruise, stones toppling from buildings and striking women dead as they trade. Dangerous times, my Lady. I hate to pass on mere hearsay, but I’ve seen the numbers myself!”
The events were not, in themselves, unexpected. “Of course, there are the balances.”