Shadow Rising, The (23 page)

Read Shadow Rising, The Online

Authors: Robert Jordan

BOOK: Shadow Rising, The
11.98Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“That’s nothing like what I do,” he protested. “Let it fill me? I have to reach out and take hold of
saidin
. Sometimes there’s still nothing there when I do, nothing I can touch, but if I didn’t reach for it, I could stand there forever and nothing would happen. It fills me all right, once I take hold, but surrender to it?” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Egwene, if I surrendered—even for a minute—
saidin
would consume me. It’s like a river of molten metal, an ocean of fire, all the light of the sun gathered in one spot. I must fight it to make it do what I want, fight it to keep from being eaten up.”
He sighed. “I know what you mean about life filling you, though, even with the taint turning my stomach. Colors are sharper, smells clearer. Everything is more real, somehow. I don’t want to let go, once I have it, even while it’s trying to swallow me. But the rest … . Face the facts, Egwene. The Tower is right about this. Accept it for the truth, because it is.”
She shook her head. “I will accept it when it is proved to me.” She did
not sound as sure as she wanted to, not as sure she had been. What he told sounded like some twisted half-reflection of what she did, similarities only emphasizing differences. Yet there were similarities. She would not give up. “Can you tell the flows apart? Air, Water, Spirit, Earth, Fire?”
“Sometimes,” he said slowly. “Not usually. I just take what I need to do what I want. Fumble for it, mostly. It’s very strange. Sometimes I need to do a thing, and I do it, but only afterward do I know what it was I did, or how. It’s almost like remembering something I’ve forgotten. But I can remember how to do it again. Most of the time.”
“Yet you do remember how,” she insisted. “How did you set fire to those tables?” She wanted to ask him how he had made them dance—she thought she saw a way, with Air and Water—but she wanted to start with something simple; lighting a candle and putting it out were things a novice could do.
Rand’s face took on a pained expression. “I don’t know.” He sounded embarrassed. “When I want fire, for a lamp or a fireplace, I just make it, but I do not know
how
. I don’t really need to think to do things with fire.”
That almost stood to reason. Of the Five Powers, Fire and Earth had been strongest in men in the Age of Legends, and Air and Water in women; Spirit had been shared equally. Egwene hardly had to think to use Air or Water, once she had learned to do a thing in the first place. But the thought did not further their purpose.
This time it was Elayne who pressed him. “Do you know how you extinguished them? You seemed to think before they went out.”
“That I do remember, because I don’t believe I have ever done it before. I took in the heat from the tables and spread it into the stone of the fireplace; a fireplace wouldn’t even notice that much heat.”
Elayne gasped, unconsciously cradling her left arm for a moment, and Egwene winced in sympathy. She remembered when that arm had been a mass of blisters because the Daughter-Heir had done what Rand had just described, and with just the lamp in her room. Sheriam had threatened to let the blisters heal by themselves; she had not done it, but she had threatened. It was one of the warnings novices were given; never draw heat in. A flame could be extinguished using Air or Water, but using Fire to pull the heat away meant disaster with a flame of any size. It was not a matter of strength, so Sheriam had said; heat once taken in could not be gotten rid of, not by the strongest woman ever to come out of the White Tower. Women had actually burst into flame themselves that way. Women had burst into flame. Egwene drew a ragged breath.
“What’s the matter?” Rand asked.
“I think you just proved the difference to me.” She sighed.
“Oh. Does that mean you’re ready to give up?”
“No!” She tried to make her voice softer. She was not angry with him. Exactly. She was not sure who she was angry with. “Maybe my teachers were right, but there has to be a way. Some way. Only I cannot think of one, right now.”
“You tried,” he said simply. “I thank you for that. It is not your fault it did not work.”
“There must be a way,” Egwene muttered, and Elayne murmured, “We will find it. We will.”
“Of course you will,” he said with a forced cheerfulness. “But not today.” He hesitated. “I suppose you’ll be going, then.” He sounded half-regretful, half-glad. “I do need to tell the High Lords a few things about taxes this morning. They seem to think they can take as much from a farmer in a poor year as a good without beggaring him. And I suppose you have to get back to questioning those Darkfriends.” He frowned.
He had not said anything, but Egwene was sure he would like to keep them as far from the Black Ajah as possible. She was a little surprised he had not already tried to make them return to the Tower. Perhaps he knew that she and Nynaeve would put a flea in his ear the size of a horse if he tried.
“We do,” she said firmly. “But not right away. Rand …” The time had come to bring up her second reason for being there, but it was even more difficult than she had expected. This was going to hurt him; those sad, wary eyes convinced her it would. But it had to be done. She snugged the scarf around her; it enveloped her from shoulders to waist. “Rand, I cannot marry you.”
“I know,” he said.
She blinked. He was not taking it as hard as she expected. She told herself that was good. “I do not mean to hurt you—really, I don’t—but I do not want to marry you.”
“I understand, Egwene. I know what I am. No woman could—”
“You wool-brained idiot!” she snapped. “This had nothing to do with you channeling. I do not love you! At least, not in the way to want to marry you.”
Rand’s jaw dropped. “You don’t … love me?” He sounded as surprised as he looked. And hurt, too.
“Please try to understand,” she said in a gentler voice. “People change,
Rand. Feelings change. When people are apart, sometimes they grow apart. I love you as I would a brother, perhaps more than a brother, but not to marry. Can you understand that?”
He managed a rueful grin. “I really am a fool. I didn’t really believe you might change, too. Egwene, I do not want to marry you, either. I did not want to change, I didn’t try to, but it happened. If you knew how much this means to me. Not having to pretend. Not being afraid I’ll hurt you. I never wanted to do that, Egwene. Never to hurt you.”
She very nearly smiled. He was putting on such a brave face; he was actually quite close to convincing. “I am glad you are taking it so well,” she told him in a soft voice. “I did not want to hurt you, either. And now I really must go.” Rising from her chair, she bent to brush a kiss across his cheek. “You will find someone else.”
“Of course,” he said, getting to his feet, the lie loud in his voice.
“You will.”
She slipped out with a sense of satisfaction and hurried across the anteroom, letting
saidar
go as she took the scarf from her shoulders. The thing was abominably hot.
He was ready for Elayne to pick up like a lost puppy if she handled him the way they had discussed. She thought Elayne would manage him nicely, now and later. For as much later as they had. Something had to be done about his control. She was willing to admit that what she had been told was right—no woman could teach him; fish and birds—but that was not the same as giving up. Something had to be done, so a way had to be found. That horrible wound and the madness were problems for later, but they would be dealt with eventually. Somehow. Everyone said Two Rivers men were stubborn, but they could not match Two Rivers women.
Hard Heads
E
layne was not certain Rand realized she was still in the room, the way he stared after Egwene with a half-bewildered expression. Now and again he shook his head as if arguing with himself, or trying to straighten his mind. She was content to wait him out. Anything that put off the moment a while longer. She concentrated on maintaining an outward composure, back straight and head high, hands folded in her lap, a calmness on her face that could have rivaled Moiraine’s best. Butterflies the size of hedgehogs frolicked in her stomach.
It was not fear of him channeling. She had let go of
saidar
as soon as Egwene stood to leave. She wanted to trust him, and she had to. It was what she wanted to happen that had her trembling inside. She had to concentrate not to finger her necklace or fiddle with the strand of sapphires in her hair. Was her perfume too heavy? No. Egwene said he liked the smell of roses. The dress. She wanted to tug it up, but … .
He turned—the slight limp in his step tightened her lips thoughtfully—saw her sitting in her chair, and gave a start, eyes widening with what seemed very close to panic. She was glad to see it; the effort of keeping her own face serene had leaped tenfold as soon as his eyes touched her. Those eyes were blue now, like a misty morning sky.
He recovered on the instant and made a quite unnecessary bow, wiping his hands once nervously on his coat. “I did not realize you were still—”
Flushing, he cut off; forgetting her presence might be taken as an insult. “I mean … I didn’t … that is, I … .” He took a deep breath and began again. “I am not as much of a fool as I sound, my Lady. It isn’t every day someone tells you they don’t love you, my Lady.”
She put on a tone of mock severity. “If you call me that again, I shall call you my Lord Dragon. And curtsy. Even the Queen of Andor might curtsy to you, and I am only Daughter-Heir.”
“Light! Don’t do that.” He seemed uneasy out of all proportion to the threat.
“I will not, Rand,” she said in a more serious voice, “if you call me by my name. Elayne. Say it.”
“Elayne.” He spoke awkwardly, yet, delightfully, as if he were savoring the name, too.
“Good.” It was absurd to be so pleased; all he had done was say her name, after all. There was something she had to know before she could go on. “Did it hurt you very much?” That could be taken two ways, she realized. “What Egwene told you, I mean.”
“No. Yes. Some. I don’t know. Fair is fair, after all.” His small grin took some of the edge off of his wariness. “I sound a fool again, don’t I?”
“No. Not to me.”
“I told her the pure truth, but I don’t think she believed me. I suppose I did not want to believe it of her, either. Not really. If that isn’t foolish, I don’t know what is.”
“If you tell me one more time that you are a fool, I may begin to believe it.”
He won’t try to hold on to her; I won’t have to deal with that
. Her voice was calm, with a light enough tone to let him know she did not really mean what she said. “I saw a Cairhienin lord’s fool, once, a man in a funny striped coat, too big for him and sewn with bells. You would look silly wearing bells.”
“I suppose I would,” he said ruefully. “I will remember that.” His slow grin was wider this time, warming his whole face.
The butterflies’ wings flogged her for haste, but she occupied herself with straightening her skirts. She had to go slowly, carefully.
If I don’t, he’ll think I am just a foolish girl. And he will be right
. The butterflies in her belly were beating kettle drums, now.
“Would you like a flower?” he asked suddenly, and she blinked in confusion.
“A flower?”
“Yes.” Striding to the bed, he scooped up a double handful of feathers
from the tattered mattress and held them out to her. “I made one for the majhere last night. You’d have thought I had given her the Stone. But yours will be much prettier,” he added hastily. “Much prettier. I promise.”
“Rand, I—”
“I will be careful. It takes only a trickle of the Power. Just a thread, and I will be very careful.”
Trust. She had to trust him. It was a small surprise to realize that she did. “I would like that, Rand.”
For long moments he stared at the fluffy mound in his hands, a slow frown on his face. Abruptly he let the feathers fall, dusting his hands. “Flowers,” he said. “That’s no fit gift for you.” Her heart went out to him; clearly he had tried to embrace
saidin
and failed. Masking disappointment in action, he limped hurriedly to the metallic cloth and began gathering it over his arm. “Now this is a proper gift for the Daughter-Heir of Andor. You could have a seamstress make … .” He floundered over what a seamstress might make from a four-pace length of gold-and-silver cloth, less than two feet wide.
“I am sure a seamstress will have many ideas,” she told him diplomatically. Pulling a handkerchief from her sleeve, she knelt for a moment to collect the feathers he had dropped into the square of pale blue silk.
“The maids will take care of that,” he said as she tucked the small bundle securely into her belt pouch.
“Well, this bit is done.” How could he understand that she would keep the feathers because he had wanted them to be a flower? He shifted his feet, holding the glittering folds as if he did not know what to do with them. “The majhere must have seamstresses,” she told him. “I will give that to one of them.” He brightened, smiling; she saw no reason to tell him she meant it as a gift. Those thundering butterflies would not let her hold back any longer. “Rand, do you … like me?”
“Like you?” he frowned. “Of course, I like you. I like you very much.”
Did he have to look as if he did not understand at all? “I am fond of you, Rand.” She was startled that she said it so calmly; her stomach seemed to be trying to writhe up into her throat, and her hands and feet felt like ice. “More than fond.” That was enough; she was not going to make a fool of herself.
He has to say more than “like,” first
. She almost giggled hysterically.
I will keep control of myself. I will not let him see me behave like a moon-eyed girl. I will not
.
“I am fond of you,” he said slowly.
“I am not usually so forward.” No; that might make him think of
Berelain. There was red in his cheeks; he
was
thinking of Berelain. Burn him! Her voice came as smooth as silk. “Soon I will have to go, Rand. To leave Tear. I may not see you again for months.”
Or ever
, a tiny voice cried in her head. She refused to listen. “I could not go without letting you know how I feel. And I am … very fond of you.”
“Elayne, I
am
fond of you. I feel … . I want … .” The scarlet spots on his cheeks grew. “Elayne, I don’t know what to say, how to … .”
Suddenly it was her face that was flaming. He must think she was trying to force him into saying more.
Aren’t you
? the small voice mocked, which only made her cheeks hotter. “Rand, I am not asking for … .” Light! How to say it? “I only wanted you to know how I feel. That is all.” Berelain would not have let it go at that. Berelain would have been wrapped around him by now. Telling herself she would not let that half-dressed snip better her, she moved closer to him, took the glittering cloth from his arm, and dropped it on the carpet. For some reason he seemed taller than he ever had before. “Rand … . Rand, I want you to kiss me.” There. It was out.
“Kiss you?” he said as if he had never heard of kissing before. “Elayne, I don’t want to promise more than … . I mean, it isn’t as if we were betrothed. Not that I am suggesting we should be. It’s just that … . I
am
fond of you, Elayne. More than fond. I just do not want you to think I … .”
She had to laugh at him, with all his confused earnestness. “I do not know how things are done in the Two Rivers, but in Caemlyn you don’t wait until you are betrothed before kissing a girl. And it does not mean you must become betrothed, either. But perhaps you do not know how—” His arms went around her almost roughly, and his lips came down on hers. Her head spun; her toes tried to curl up in her slippers. Some time later—she was not certain how long—she realized she was leaning against his chest, knees trembling, trying to gulp air.
“Forgive me for interrupting you,” he said. She was glad to hear a touch of breathlessness in his voice. “I am just a backward shepherd from the Two Rivers.”
“You are uncouth,” she murmured against his shirt, “and you did not shave this morning, but I would not say you are backward.”
“Elayne, I—”
She put a hand over his mouth. “I do not want to hear anything from you that you do not mean with your whole heart,” she said firmly. “Not now, or ever.”
He nodded, not as if he understood why, but at least as if he understood that she meant what she said. Straightening her hair—the strand of
sapphires was tangled beyond mending without a mirror—she stepped out of his encircling arms, not without reluctance; it would be all too easy to remain there, and she had already been more forward than she had ever dreamed of before. Speaking up like that; asking for a kiss. Asking! She was not Berelain.
Berelain. Perhaps Min had had a viewing. What Min saw, happened, but she would not share him with Berelain. Perhaps she needed to do a bit more plain speaking. Obliquely plain, at least. “I expect you will not lack for company after I go. Just remember that some women see a man with their hearts, while others see no more than a bauble to wear, no different than a necklace or a bracelet. Remember that I will come back, and I am one who sees with her heart.” He looked confused, at first, then a little alarmed. She had said too much, too fast. She had to divert him. “Do you know what you have not said to me? You have not tried to frighten me away by telling me how dangerous you are. Don’t try now. It is too late.”
“I did not think of it.” Another thought came to him, though, and his eyes crinkled with suspicion. “Did you and Egwene scheme this up between you?”
She managed to combine wide-eyed innocence with mild outrage. “How could you even consider such a thing? Do you imagine we would hand you around between us like a package? You think a good deal of yourself. There is such a thing as being overproud.” He did look confused, now. Quite satisfactory. “Are you sorry for what you did to us, Rand?”
“I did not mean to frighten you,” he said hesitantly. “Egwene made me angry; she’s always been able to without half trying. That’s no excuse, I know. I said I was sorry, and I am. Look what it got me. Burned tables and another mattress ruined.”
“And for … the pinch?”
His face reddened again, but he faced her firmly even so. “No. No, I am not sorry for that. The two of you, talking over my head, as if I were a lump of wood with no ears. You deserved as much, both of you, and I won’t say different.”
For a moment she considered him. He rubbed his arms through his coat sleeves as she momentarily embraced
saidar
. She did not know Healing to any degree, but she had learned bits and pieces on the edge of it. Channeling, she soothed away the hurt she had given him for the pinch. His eyes widened in surprise, and he shifted on his feet as if testing the absence of pain. “For being honest,” she told him simply.
There was a rap at the door, and Gaul looked in. At first the Aielman
had his head down, but after a quick glance at them he raised it. Color flooded Elayne’s face as she realized he had suspected that he might be interrupting something he should not see. She very nearly embraced
saidar
again and taught him a lesson.
“The Tairens are here,” Gaul said. “The High Lords you were expecting.”
“I will go, then,” she told Rand. “You must tell them about—taxes, was it not? Think on what I have said.” She did not say “think of me,” but she was sure the effect would be the same.
He reached out as if to stop her, but she slipped away from him. She had no intention of putting on a display in front of Gaul. The man was Aiel, but what must he think of her, wearing perfume and sapphires at that hour of the morning? It required real effort not to pull the neckline of her dress up higher.
The High Lords entered as she reached the door, a cluster of graying men in pointed beards and colorful, ornate coats with puffy sleeves. They crowded out of her way with reluctant bows, their bland faces and polite murmurs not hiding their relief that she was leaving.

Other books

Of Sea and Cloud by Jon Keller
Wishes and Tears by Dee Williams
The Firestorm Conspiracy by Cheryl Angst
Spartacus by Howard Fast