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Elayne knew the woman was dangerous, but it was like knowing a viper was dangerous; Elayne knew, but Nynaeve had been bitten.
And it might be that Rand had one of the Forsaken after him in the same personal way that Moghedien was after her and Elayne.
Sometimes it seemed to Nynaeve that she had forgotten why she had left the Two Rivers in the first place. To protect young people from her village who had been caught in Aes Sedai webs.
Somehow, though, protecting Rand and Egwene and Mat and Perrin from Aes Sedai had become helping them survive, and finally, without her quite realizing when or how, even that goal had been submerged in other needs.
Even her hatred for Aes Sedai meddling in people’s lives now coexisted with her desire to become one.
Everything had become as tangled as one of those Aes Sedai webs, herself included, and she did not know how to escape.
Letting men know too much was always a mistake. The trouble was, he was right, but letting a man know that too quickly was a mistake, too.
“Did you ever know a woman who listened to sense when she didn’t want to?”
In one way, she was more than happy to focus on another man making his way through the wagons; it gave an excuse to pull her eyes away from Elayne and Birgitte. In another way, the sight of Galad made her stomach settle right to her shoes.
Nynaeve was in no mood to be affected by a handsome face; her breath hardly quickened at all.
Men and their word. It was all very admirable, sometimes, but she should have listened when Elayne said he did what he saw as right no matter who was hurt.
“Women,” Juilin said simply, and got slapped on the back of the head by Birgitte for his trouble. He glared at her.
“That’s enough, both of you!” Elayne would just have tried honeyed words again. They might have worked, but she wanted to lash out. At something, anything.
They were madmen, both of them. All men were!
In spite of herself, she took a step back, crossing her arms beneath her breasts sternly. And immediately wished she had not; that stance more than emphasized what she was exposing. Stubbornness kept her arms where they were—she was not about to let him think she was flustered, especially since she was—but surprisingly, his eyes remained on hers.
“Nana, your eyes drink my soul, your lips inflame my heart, your shoulders make my pulse race, your—”
I am betrothed to another.” Well, she was, in a way. Lan Mandragoran might think his signet ring just a gift, but she saw it differently.
“I should bundle you up and carry you with me.” Dirt and rips somewhat spoiled the grandiloquent flourish of his cape as he drew himself up. “With time, you would forget the fellow.”
“I will find you again, Nana, and you will choose me. I know it in here.” Thumping his chest dramatically, he gave his cape an even more pretentious swirl. “And you know it, too, my dearest Nana. In your fair heart, you do.”
Men were mad. All of them.
It was not as if she enjoyed wearing breeches. They were comfortable, true, and cooler than skirts. She could see why Min chose to wear men’s clothes. Almost.
She threw back her head and screamed with frustration.
Coolly, she ignored them. Nothing could worm its way under her skin now. She was as calm as ice, perfectly in control of herself.
“An open sack hides nothing, and an open door hides little, but an open man is surely hiding something.”
The painting of Rand remained, with a poorly mended tear in the canvas across Rand’s face, as if someone had thrown something at it.
Perhaps one day she could find the nerve again not to be afraid.
Who was this Davram Bashere, and why was Elaida so frantic to find him? Why had Elaida forbidden anyone to mention the name of Mazrim Taim, the false Dragon, with a threat of stiff penalties? Why had Queen Tenobia of Saldaea and King Easar of Shienar both written letters politely but stiffly resenting White Tower meddling in their affairs?
Elayne, however, said she looked . . . misty. Misty was how saidar felt, too, except for the flow of Spirit she had begun to weave while awake.
“Mat killed Couladin?” Nynaeve exclaimed at one point. That had certainly not been in their dreams of her. It did not sound like Mat at all. Leading soldiers? Mat?
Still, Rand certainly should never find himself in that position. He had become a king, or something more, surrounded by Far Dareis Mai guards, ordering lords and ladies about.
Moiraine did not seem to care what Rand did.
I’m sure Galad only did what he thought was best.” Egwene’s cheeks colored slightly; even the memory of Galad’s face could do that.
Perhaps she should have sent word to Lan. All those noblewomen, Tairen as well as Cairhienin. Feeding a man honey instead of telling him the truth. He had better not forget who he belonged to.
“Elayne, I won’t say they will greet us as heroes, but it wouldn’t surprise me if they kissed us before today is done.” Rand alone would be worth that.
“The important thing is that with these ter’angreal you can talk to Egwene, and through her to Moiraine. Between them, you can not only keep an eye on Rand al’Thor, you should be able to influence him even in Cairhien.”
Rand could find use for them, very probably, and they would only get in the way here. Except . . .
For the first time in what seemed forever, someone had tried to bully her and failed. She almost felt ready to face Moghedien. Almost.
it shames me to admit it, but I will take him any way I can get him. Not that either of us has much choice.
Light, he’s scrambled my whole life. Just thinking about him scrambles my brains.”
“He bends the world around him. We are chips caught in a whirlpool.
Is Logain really here? And why are you laundering some man’s shirts? Everything.”
Who was the third woman? Aviendha had better be keeping a close eye on him.
“Do women learn that look in the cradle?” Mat muttered. “Do their mothers teach them? I’d say the mighty Car’a’carn will get his ears singed if he stays around here much longer.”
Aviendha would never let herself be used in that way. Besides, even if she had, giving him one taste of herself then denying him so much as a kiss afterward, not to mention making him chase her halfway around the world, was no way to go about it.
So what was she supposed to be successful at? Plots all around him. Was everyone scheming? He could see his face in her eyes. Who had given her that silver necklace?
“I like canoodling as much as the next man,” Mat said, “but don’t you think there are a few too many people watching?” Rand released Aviendha’s waist and stepped back, but no more quickly than she.
Lanfear had tried to kill her and Egwene because she did not know which was Aviendha.
Women found pain—or death—when they came too close to him.
Pevin came down past Bael to stand behind Rand’s shoulder with the banner, his narrow, scarred face absolutely blank.
He seized saidin, floated in emptiness, emotionless.
