“No,” he said. “Just an oathbreaker.”
She glanced at him, eyes widening. Why, she’d let him hear the rough side of. . . .
She hesitated. He was watching her, bathed in the glow of the two lights, eyes thoughtful. Reserved, but not accusatory. “That question drove me here, you know,” he said. “It’s why I hunted you all that way. It’s why I finally swore to these rebel Aes Sedai, though I had little wish to be pulled into yet another war at Tar Valon. I did it all because I needed to understand. I had to know. Why? Why did the woman with those eyes—those passionate, haunting eyes—break her oath?”
“I told you I was going to return to you and fulfill that oath,” Siuan said, turning away from him and snapping a shirt in front of her to unwrinkle it.
“Another excuse,” he said softly. “Another answer from an Aes Sedai. Will I ever have the full truth from you, Siuan Sanche? Has anyone ever had it?” He sighed, and she heard papers rustle, the candle’s light flickering in the faint stir of his movements as he turned back to his reports.
“When I was still an Accepted in the White Tower,” Siuan said softly, “I was one of four people present when a Foretelling announced the imminent birth of the Dragon Reborn on the slopes of Dragonmount.”
His rustling froze.
“One of the three others present,” Siuan continued, “died on the spot. Another died soon after. I’m confident that she—the Amyrlin Seat herself—was murdered by the Black A
jah. Yes, it exists. If you tell anyone that I admitted that fact, I’ll have your tongue.
“Anyway, before she died, the Amyrlin sent Aes Sedai out hunting the Dragon. One by one, those women vanished. The Blacks must have tortured their names out of Tamra before killing her. She would not have given up those names easily. I still shiver, sometimes, thinking about what she must have gone through.
“Soon, there were just the two of us left who knew. Moiraine and me. We weren’t supposed to hear the Foretelling. We were just Accepted, in the room by happenstance. I believe that Tamra was somehow able to withhold our names from the Blacks, for if she hadn’t, we’d have undoubtedly been murdered like the others.
“That left two of us. The only two in all of the world who knew what was coming. At least, the only two who served the Light. And so I did what I had to, Gareth Bryne. I dedicated my life to preparing for the Dragon’s coming. I swore to see us through the Last Battle. To do whatever was necessary—whatever was necessary—to bear the burden I had been given. There was only one other person I knew I could trust, and she is now dead.”
Siuan turned, meeting his eyes across the tent. A breeze rippled the walls and fluttered the candle, but Bryne sat still, watching her.
“So you see, Gareth Bryne,” she said. “I had to delay fulfilling my oath to you because of other oaths. I swore to see this through to the end, and the Dragon has not yet met his destiny at Shayol Ghul. A person’s oaths must follow their order of importance. When I swore to you, I did not promise to serve you immediately. I was intentionally careful on that point. You will call it an Aes Sedai wordplay. I would call it something else.”
“Which is?” he asked.
“Doing what was necessary to protect you, your lands and your people, Gareth Bryne. You blame me for the loss of a barn and some cows. Well, then I suggest that you consider the cost to your people should the Dragon Reborn fail. Sometimes, prices must be paid so that a more important duty can be served. I would expect a soldier to understand that.”
“You should have told me,” he said, still meeting her eyes. “You should have explained who you were.”
“What?” Siuan asked. “Would you have believed me?”
He hesitated.
“Besides,” she said frankly, “I didn’t trust you. Our previous meeting had not been particularly . . . amicable, as I recall. Could I have taken that risk, Gareth Bryne, on a man I did not know? Could I have given him control over the secrets I alone know, secrets that needed to be passed on to the new Amyrlin Seat? Should I have spared even a moment when the entire world was wearing the hangman’s noose?”
She held those eyes, demanding an answer.
“No,” he finally admitted. “Burn me, Siuan, but no. You shouldn’t have waited. You shouldn’t have made that oath in the first place!”
“You should have been more careful to listen,” she said, finally breaking his gaze with a sniff. “I suggest that if you swear someone into service in the future, you be careful to stipulate a time frame for that service.”
Bryne grunted and Siuan whipped the final shirt off of the drying line, causing it to shake, making a blurry shadow on the back wall of the tent.
“Well,” Bryne said, “I told myself I’d only hold you to work as long as it took me to get that answer. Now I know. I would say that—”
“Stop!” Siuan snapped, spinning on him and pointing.
“But—”
“Don’t say it,” she threatened. “I’ll gag you and leave you hanging in the air until sundown tomorrow. Don’t think that I won’t.”
Bryne sat, silent.
“I’m not finished with you yet, Gareth Bryne.” She whipped the shirt in her hands, then folded it. “I shall tell you when I am.”