The Great Hunt (72 page)

“I haven’t gone over to the enemy, if that is what you are thinking. It was this, or else find someplace to stay out in the town, and maybe not be able to visit you again.” She started to straddle the chair as she would have in breeches, gave a wry shake of her head, and turned it around to sit. “ ‘Everyone has a place in the Pattern,’ ” she mimicked, “ ‘and the place of everyone must be readily apparent.’ That old hag Mulaen apparently got tired of not knowing what my place was on sight and decided I ranked with the serving girls. She gave me the choice. You should see some of the things Seanchan serving girls wear, the ones who serve the lords. It might be fun, but not unless I was betrothed, or, better yet, married. Well, there’s no going back. Not yet, anyway. Mulaen burned my coat and breeches.” Grimacing to show what she thought of that, she picked up a rock from a small pile on the table and bounced it from hand to hand. “It isn’t so bad,” she said with a laugh, “except that it has been so long since I wore skirts that I keep tripping over them.”

Egwene had had to watch her clothes being burned, too, including that lovely green silk. It had made her glad she had not brought more of the clothes the Lady Amalisa had given her, though she might never see any of them, or the White Tower, again. What she had on now was the same dark gray all
damane
wore. Damane
have no possessions
, it had been explained to her.
The dress a
damane
wears, the food she eats, the bed she sleeps in, are all gifts from her
sul’dam.
If a
sul’dam
chooses that a
damane
sleep on the floor instead of in a bed, or in a stall in a stable, it is purely the choice of the
sul’dam. Mulaen, who had charge of the
damane
quarters, had a droning nasal voice, but she was sharp with any
damane
who did not remember every word of her boring lectures.

“I don’t think there will be any going back for me ever,” Egwene said, sighing, sinking down on her bed. She gestured to the rocks on the table. “Renna gave me a test, yesterday. I picked out the piece of iron ore, and the copper ore, blindfolded, every time she mixed them up. She left them all here to remind me of my success. She seemed to think it was some kind of reward to be reminded.”

“It doesn’t seem any worse than the rest—not nearly as bad as making things explode like fireworks—but couldn’t you have lied? Told her you didn’t know which was which?”

“You still do not know what this is like.” Egwene tugged at the collar; pulling did no more good than channeling had. “When Renna is wearing that bracelet, she knows what I am doing with the Power, and what I am not. Sometimes she even seems to know when she isn’t wearing it; she says
sul’dam
develop—an affinity, she calls it—after a while.” She sighed. “No one even thought to test me on this earlier. Earth is one of the Five Powers that was strongest in men. When I picked out those rocks, she took me outside the town, and I was able to point right to an abandoned iron mine. It was all overgrown, and there wasn’t any opening to be seen at all, but once I knew how, I could feel the iron ore still in the ground. There hasn’t been enough to make it worth working in a hundred years, but I knew it was there. I couldn’t lie to her, Min. She knew I had sensed the mine as soon as I did. She was so excited, she promised me a pudding with my supper.” She felt her cheeks growing hot, in anger and embarrassment. “Apparently,” she said bitterly, “I am now too valuable to be wasted making things explode. Any
damane
can do that; only a handful can find ores in the ground. Light, I hate making things explode, but I wish that was all I could do.”

The color in her cheeks deepened. She did hate it, making trees tear themselves to splinters and the earth erupt; that was meant for battle, for killing, and she wanted no part of it. Yet anything the Seanchan let her do was another chance to touch
saidar
, to feel the Power flowing through her. She hated the things Renna and the other
sul’dam
made her do, but she was sure that she could handle much more of the Power now than she could before leaving Tar Valon. She certainly knew she could do things with it that no sister in the Tower had ever thought of doing; they never thought of tearing the earth apart to kill men.

“Perhaps you won’t have to worry about any of it much longer,” Min said, grinning. “I’ve found us a ship, Egwene. The captain has been held here by the Seanchan, and he is about ready to sail with or without permission.”

“If he will take you, Min, go with him,” Egwene said wearily. “I told you I’m valuable, now. Renna says in a few days they’re sending a ship back to Seanchan. Just to take me.”

Min’s grin vanished, and they stared at each other. Suddenly Min hurled her rock at the pile on the table, scattering them. “There has to be a way out of here. There has to be a way to take that bloody thing off your neck!”

Egwene leaned her head back against the wall. “You know the Seanchan have collected every woman they’ve been able to find who can channel even a speck. They come from all over, not just from here in Falme, but from the fishing villages, and from farming towns inland. Taraboner and Domani women, passengers off ships they’ve stopped. There are two Aes Sedai among them.”

“Aes Sedai!” Min exclaimed. By habit she looked around to make sure no Seanchan had overheard her saying that name. “Egwene, if there are Aes Sedai here, they can help us. Let me talk to them, and—”

“They can’t even help themselves, Min. I only talked to one—her name is Ryma; the
sul’dam
don’t call her that, but that’s her name; she wanted to make sure I knew it—and she told me there is another. She told me in between bouts of tears. She’s Aes Sedai, and she was crying, Min! She has a collar on her neck, they make her answer to Pura, and she can’t do anything more about it than I can. They captured her when Falme fell. She was crying because she’s beginning to stop fighting against it, because she cannot take being punished anymore. She was crying because she wants to take her own life, and she cannot even do that without permission. Light, I know how she feels!”

Min shifted uneasily, smoothing her dress with suddenly nervous hands. “Egwene, you don’t want to. . . . Egwene, you must not think of harming yourself. I will get you out somehow. I will!”

“I am not going to kill myself,” Egwene said dryly. “Even if I could. Let me have your knife. Come on. I won’t hurt myself. Just hand it to me.”

Min hesitated before slowly taking her knife from its sheath at her waist. She held it out warily, obviously ready to leap if Egwene tried anything.

Egwene took a deep breath and reached for the hilt. A soft quiver ran through the muscles of her arm. As her hand came within a foot of the knife, a cramp suddenly contorted her fingers. Eyes fixed, she tried to force her hand closer. The cramp seized her whole arm, knotting muscles to her shoulder. With a groan, she sank back, rubbing her arm and concentrating her thoughts on
not
touching the knife. Slowly, the pain began to lessen.

Min stared at her incredulously. “What . . . ? I don’t understand.”

“
Damane
are not allowed to touch a weapon of any kind.” She worked her arm, feeling the tightness go. “Even our meat is cut for us. I don’t want to hurt myself, but I could not if I did want to. No
damane
is ever left alone where she might jump from a height—that window is nailed shut—or throw herself in a river.”

“Well, that’s a good thing. I mean. . . . Oh, I don’t know what I mean. If you could jump in a river, you might escape.”

Egwene went on dully, as if the other woman had not spoken. “They are training me, Min. The
sul’dam
and the
a’dam
are training me. I cannot touch anything I even think of as a weapon. A few weeks ago I considered hitting Renna over the head with that pitcher, and I could not pour wash water for three days. Once I’d thought of it that way, I not only had to stop thinking about hitting her with it, I had to convince myself I would never, under any circumstances, hit her with it before I could touch it again. She knew what had happened, told me what I had to do, and would not let me wash anywhere except with that pitcher and bowl. You are lucky it happened between your visiting days. Renna made sure I spent those days sweating from the time I woke to the time I fell asleep, exhausted. I am trying to fight them, but they are training me as surely as they’re training Pura.” She clapped a hand to her mouth, moaning through her teeth. “Her name is Ryma. I have to remember
her
name, not the name they’ve put on her. She is Ryma, and she’s Yellow Ajah, and she has fought them as long and as hard as she could. It is no fault of hers that she hasn’t the strength left to fight any longer. I wish I knew who the other sister is that Ryma mentioned. I wish I knew her name. Remember both of us, Min. Ryma, of the Yellow Ajah, and Egwene al’Vere. Not Egwene the
damane;
Egwene al’Vere of Emond’s Field. Will you do that?”

“Stop it!” Min snapped. “You stop it right this instant! If you get shipped off to Seanchan, I’ll be right there with you. But I don’t think you will. You know I’ve read you, Egwene. I don’t understand most of it—I almost never do—but I see things I am sure link you to Rand, and Perrin, and Mat, and—yes, even Galad, the Light help you for a fool. How can any of that happen if the Seanchan take you off across the ocean?”

“Maybe they’re going to conquer the whole world, Min. If they conquer the world, there’s no reason Rand and Galad and the rest could not end up in Seanchan.”

“You ninny-headed goose!”

“I am being practical,” Egwene said sharply. “I don’t intend to stop fighting, not as long as I can breathe, but I don’t see any hope that I’ll ever have the
a’dam
off me, either. Just as I don’t see any hope that anyone is going to stop the Seanchan. Min, if this ship captain will take you, go with him. At least then one of us will be free.”

The door swung open, and Renna stepped in.

Egwene jumped to her feet and bowed sharply, as did Min. The tiny room was crowded for bowing, but Seanchan insisted on protocol before comfort.

“Your visiting day, is it?” Renna said. “I had forgotten. Well, there is training to be done even on visiting days.”

Egwene watched sharply as the
sul’dam
took down the bracelet, opened it, and fastened it again around her wrist. She could not see how it was done. If she could have probed with the One Power, she would have, but Renna would have known that immediately. As the bracelet closed around Renna’s wrist a look came onto the
sul’dam
’s face that made Egwene’s heart sink.

“You have been channeling.” Renna’s voice was deceptively mild; there was a spark of anger in her eyes. “You know that is forbidden except when we are complete.” Egwene wet her lips. “Perhaps I have been too lenient with you. Perhaps you believe that because you are valuable now, you will be allowed license. I think I made a mistake letting you keep your old name. I had a kitten called Tuli when I was a child. From now on, your name is Tuli. You will go now, Min. Your visiting day with Tuli is ended.”

Min hesitated only long enough for one anguished look at Egwene before leaving. Nothing Min could say or do would do anything except make matters worse, but Egwene could not help looking longingly at the door as it closed behind her friend.

Renna took the chair, frowning at Egwene. “I must punish you severely for this. We will both be called to the Court of the Nine Moons—you for what you can do; I as your
sul’dam
and trainer—and I will not allow you to disgrace me in the eyes of the Empress. I will stop when you tell me how much you love being
damane
and how obedient you will be after this. And, Tuli. Make me believe every word.”

CHAPTER
43

A Plan

O
utside in the low-ceilinged hallway, Min dug her nails into her palms at the first piercing cry from the room. She took a step toward the door before she could stop herself, and when she did stop, tears sprang up in her eyes.
Light help me, all I can do is make it worse. Egwene, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Feeling worse than useless, she picked up her skirts and ran, and Egwene’s screams pursued her. She could not make herself stay, and leaving made her feel a coward. Half blind with weeping, she found herself in the street before she knew it. She had intended to go back to her room, but now she could not do it. She could not stand the thought that Egwene was being hurt while she sat warm and safe under the next roof. Scrubbing the tears from her eyes, she swept her cloak around her shoulders and started down the street. Every time she cleared her eyes, new tears began trickling along her cheeks. She was not accustomed to weeping openly, but then she was not accustomed to feeling so helpless, so useless. She did not know where she was going, only that it had to be as far as she could reach from Egwene’s cries.

“Min!”

The low-pitched shout brought her up short. At first, she could not make out who had called. Relatively few people walked the street this close to where the
damane
were housed. Aside from a lone man trying to interest two Seanchan soldiers in buying the picture he would draw of them with his colored chalks, everyone local tried to step along quickly without actually appearing to run. A pair of
sul’dam
strolled by,
damane
trailing behind with eyes down; the Seanchan women were talking about how many more
marath’damane
they expected to find before they sailed. Min’s eyes passed right over the two women in long fleece coats, then swung back in wonder as they came toward her. “Nynaeve? Elayne?”

“None other.” Nynaeve’s smile was strained; both women had tight eyes, as if they fought worried frowns. Min thought she had never seen anything as wonderful as the sight of them. “That color becomes you,” Nynaeve continued. “You should have taken up dresses long since. Though I’ve thought of breeches myself since I saw them on you.” Her voice sharpened as she drew close enough to see Min’s face. “What is the matter?”

“You’ve been crying,” Elayne said. “Has something happened to Egwene?”

Min gave a start and looked back over her shoulder. A
sul’dam
and
damane
came down the steps she had used and turned the other way, toward the stables and horse yards. Another woman with the lightning panels on her dress stood at the top of the stairs talking with someone still inside. Min grabbed her friends by the arms and hurried them down the street toward the harbor. “It’s dangerous for you two here. Light, it’s dangerous for you to be in Falme. There are
damane
everywhere, and if they find you. . . . You do know what
damane
are? Oh, you don’t know how good it is to see you both.”

“I imagine about as half as good as it is to see you,” Nynaeve said. “Do you know where Egwene is? Is she in one of those buildings? Is she all right?”

Min hesitated a fraction before saying, “She’s as well as can be expected.” Min could see it all too well, if she told them what was happening to Egwene right that moment. Nynaeve was as likely as not to go storming back in an attempt to stop it.
Light, let it be over by now. Light, make her bend her stubborn neck just once before they almost break it first.
“I don’t know how to get her out, though. I found a ship captain who I think will take us if we can reach his ship with her—he won’t help unless we make it that far, and I cannot say I blame him—but I have no idea how to do even that much.”

“A ship,” Nynaeve said thoughtfully. “I had meant to simply ride east, but I must say I’ve worried about it. As nearly as I can make out, we would have to be almost off Toman Head before we were clear of Seanchan patrols completely, and then there’s supposed to be fighting of some sort on Almoth Plain. I never thought of a ship. We have horses, and we do not have money for passage. How much does this man want?”

Min shrugged. “I never got that far. We don’t have any money, either. I thought I could put off paying until after we sail. Afterwards . . . well, I don’t think he’ll put into any port where there are Seanchan. Wherever he threw us off, it would have to be better than here. The problem is convincing him to sail at all. He wants to, but they patrol off the harbor, too, and there is no way of telling if there’s a
damane
on one of their ships until it’s too late. ‘Give me a
damane
of my own on my deck,’ he says, ‘and I will sail this instant.’ Then he starts talking about drafts and shoals and lee shores. I don’t understand any of that, but as long as I smile and nod every now and then, he keeps talking, and I think if I can keep him talking long enough, he’ll talk himself into sailing.” She drew a shuddering breath; her eyes started stinging again. “Only, I don’t think there’s time to let him talk himself into it anymore. Nynaeve, they’re going to send Egwene back to Seanchan, and soon.”

Elayne gasped. “But, why?”

“She is able to find ore,” Min said miserably. “A few days, she says, and I don’t know if a few days is enough for this man to convince himself to sail. Even if it is, how do we take that Shadow-spawned collar off her? How do we get her out of the house?”

“I wish Rand were here.” Elayne sighed, and when they both looked at her, she blushed and quickly added, “Well, he does have a sword. I wish we had somebody with a sword. Ten of them. A hundred.”

“It isn’t swords or brawn we need now,” Nynaeve said, “but brains. Men usually think with the hair on their chests.” She touched her chest absently, as if feeling something through her coat. “Most of them do.”

“We would need an army,” Min said. “A large army. The Seanchan were outnumbered when they faced the Taraboners, and the Domani, and they won every battle easily, from what I hear.” She hurriedly pulled Nynaeve and Elayne to the opposite side of the street as a
damane
and
sul’dam
climbed past them on the other side. She was relieved there was no need for urging; the other two watched the linked women go as warily as she. “Since we don’t have an army, the three of us will have to do it. I hope one of you can think of something I haven’t; I’ve wracked my brains, and I always stumble when it comes to the
a’dam,
the leash and collar.
Sul’dam
don’t like anyone watching too closely when they open them. I think I can get you inside, if that will help. One of you, anyway. They think of me as a servant, but servants may have visitors, as long as they keep to the servants’ quarters.”

Nynaeve wore a thoughtful frown, but her face cleared almost immediately, taking on a purposeful look. “Don’t you worry, Min. I have a few ideas. I have not spent my time here idly. You take me to this man. If he is any harder to handle than the Village Council with their backs up, I will eat this coat.”

Elayne nodded, grinning, and Min felt the first real hope she had had since arriving in Falme. For an instant Min found herself reading the auras of the other two women. There was danger, but that was to be expected—and new things, too, among the images she had seen before; it was like that, sometimes. A man’s ring of heavy gold floated above Nynaeve’s head, and above Elayne’s, a red-hot iron and an axe. They meant trouble, she was sure, but it seemed distant, somewhere in the future. Only for a moment did the reading last, and then all she saw was Elayne and Nynaeve, watching her expectantly.

“It’s down near the harbor,” she said.

The sloping street became more crowded the further down they went. Street peddlers rubbed elbows with merchants who had brought wagons in from the inland villages and would not go out again until winter had come and gone, hawkers with their trays called to the passersby, Falmen in embroidered cloaks brushed past farm families in heavy fleece coats. Many people had fled here from villages further from the coast. Min saw no point to it—they had leaped from the possibility of a visit from the Seanchan to the certainty of Seanchan all around them—but she had heard what the Seanchan did when they first came to a village, and she could not blame the villagers too much for fearing another appearance. Everyone bowed when Seanchan walked past or a curtained palanquin was carried by up the steep street.

Min was glad to see Nynaeve and Elayne knew about the bowing. Bare-chested bearers paid no more mind to the people who bent themselves than did arrogant, armored soldiers, but failure to bow would surely catch their eyes.

They talked a little as they moved down the street, and she was surprised at first to learn they had been in the town only a few days less than Egwene and herself. After a moment, though, she decided it was no wonder they had not met earlier, not with the crowds in the streets. She had been reluctant to spend time further from Egwene than was necessary; there was always the fear that she would go for her allowed visit and find Egwene gone.
And now she will be. Unless Nynaeve can think of something.

The smell of salt and pitch grew heavy in the air, and gulls cried, wheeling overhead. Sailors appeared in the throng, many still barefoot despite the cold.

The inn had been hastily renamed The Three Plum Blossoms, but part of the word “Watcher” still showed through the slapdash paint work on the sign. Despite the crowds outside, the common room was little more than half full; prices were too high for many people to afford time sitting over ale. Roaring fires on hearths at either end of the room warmed it, and the fat innkeeper was in his shirtsleeves. He eyed the three women, frowning, and Min thought it was her Seanchan dress that stopped him from telling them to leave. Nynaeve and Elayne, in their farm women’s coats, certainly did not look as if they had money to spend.

The man she was looking for was alone at a table in a corner, in his accustomed place, muttering into his wine. “Do you have time to talk, Captain Domon?” she said.

He looked up, brushing a hand across his beard when he saw she was not alone. She still thought his bare upper lip looked odd with the beard. “So you do bring friends to drink up my coin, do you? Well, that Seanchan lord bought my cargo, so coin I have. Sit.” Elayne jumped as he suddenly bellowed, “Innkeeper! Mulled wine here!”

“It’s all right,” Min told her, taking a place on the end of one of the benches at the table. “He only looks and sounds like a bear.” Elayne sat down on the other end, looking doubtful.

“A bear, do I be?” Domon laughed. “Maybe I do. But what of you, girl? Have you given over thought of leaving? That dress do look Seanchan to me.”

“Never!” Min said fiercely, but the appearance of a serving girl with the steaming, spiced wine made her fall silent.

Domon was just as wary. He waited until the girl had gone with his coins before saying, “Fortune prick me, girl, I mean no offense. Most people only want to go on with their lives, whether their lords be Seanchan or any other.”

Nynaeve leaned her forearms on the table. “We also want to go on with our lives, Captain, but without any Seanchan. I understand you intend to sail soon.”

“I would sail today, if I could,” Domon said glumly. “Every two or three days that Turak do send for me to tell him tales of the old things I have seen. Do I look a gleeman to you? I did think I could spin a tale or two and be on my way, but now I think when I no entertain him any longer, it be an even wager whether he do let me go or have my head cut off. The man do look soft, but he be as hard as iron, and as coldhearted.”

“Can your ship avoid the Seanchan?” Nynaeve asked.

“Fortune prick me, could I make it out of the harbor without a
damane
rips
Spray
to splinters, I can. If I do no let a Seanchan ship with a
damane
come too close once I do make the sea. There be shoal waters all along this coast, and
Spray
do have a shallow draft. I can take her into waters those lumbering Seanchan hulks can no risk. They must be wary of the winds close inshore this time of year, and once I do have
Spray
—”

Nynaeve cut him off. “Then we will take passage with you, Captain. There will be four of us, and I will expect you to be ready to sail as soon as we are aboard.”

Domon scrubbed a finger across his upper lip and peered into his wine. “Well, as to that, there still do be the matter of getting out of the harbor, you see. These
damane
—”

“What if I tell you you will sail with something better than
damane
?” Nynaeve said softly. Min’s eyes widened as she realized what Nynaeve intended.

Almost under her breath, Elayne murmured, “And you tell me to be careful.”

Domon had eyes only for Nynaeve, and they were wary eyes. “What do you mean?” he whispered.

Nynaeve opened her coat to fumble at the back of her neck, finally pulling out a leather cord that had been tucked inside her dress. Two gold rings hung on the cord. Min gasped when she saw one—it was the heavy man’s ring she had seen when she read Nynaeve in the street—but she knew it was the other, slighter and made for a woman’s slender finger, that made Domon’s eyes bulge. A serpent biting its own tail.