rj.thepathofdaggers-第85部分

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e　bargain　they　had　been　forced　into　with　the　Sea　Folk；　and　found　themselves　facing　the　Amyrlin　Seat　with　the　striped　stole　on　her　shoulders。　Elayne　knew　it　was　necessary　and　right　…　a　Queen's　closest　friend　among　her　subjects　knew　she　was　the　Queen　as　well　as　a　friend；　had　to　know　…　but　she　had　not　enjoyed　her　friend　telling　them　in　a　heated　voice　that　they　had　behaved　like　witless　loobies　who　might　have　brought　ruin　down　on　all　their　heads。　Especially　when　she　herself　agreed。　She　had　not　liked　hearing　that　the　only　reason　Egwene　did　not　set　them　both　a　penance　that　would　curl　their　hair　was　that　she　could　not　afford　to　have　them　waste　the　time。　Necessary　and　right；　though；　when　she　sat　on　the　Lion　Throne；　she　would　still　be　Aes　Sedai；　and　subject　to　the　laws　and　rules　and　customs　of　Aes　Sedai。　Not　for　Andor　…　she　would　not　give　her　land　to　the　White　Tower　…　but　for　herself。　So；　unpleasant　as　it　had　been；　she　accepted　her　castigation　calmly。　Nynaeve　had　writhed　and　stammered　with　embarrassment；　protested　and　all　but　pouted；　then　apologized　so　profusely　that　Elayne　hardly　believed　it　was　the　same　woman　she　knew。　Quite　rightly；　Egwene　had　remained　the　Amyrlin；　cool　in　her　displeasure　even　while　giving　pardon　for　their　mistakes。　At　best；　tonight　could　not　be　pleasant　or　fortable　if　she　was　there。
　　　　　　　But　when　they　dreamed　themselves　into　the　Salidar　of　Tel'aran'rhiod；　into　the　room　in　the　Little　Tower　that　had　been　called　the　Amyrlin's　Study；　she　was　not　there；　and　the　only　sign　she　had　visited　since　their　meeting　was　some　barely　visible　words　roughly　scratched　on　a　beetle…riddled　wall　panel；　as　if　by　an　idle　hand　that　did　not　want　to　spend　the　effort　to　carve　deeply。
　　　　　　　STAY　IN　CAEMLYN
　　　　　　　And　a　few　feet　away：
　　　　　　　KEEP　SILENT　AND　BE　CAREFUL
　　　　　　　Those　had　been　Egwene's　final　instructions　to　them。　Go　to　Caemlyn；　and　stay　there　until　she　could　puzzle　out　how　to　keep　the　Hall　from　salting　all　of　them　down　and　nailing　them　into　a　barrel。　A　reminder　they　had　no　way　to　erase。
　　　　　　　Embracing　saidar；　Elayne　channeled　to　leave　her　own　message；　the　number　fifteen　seemingly　scratched　on　the　heavy　table　that　had　been　Egwene's　writing　desk。　Inverting　the　weave　and　tying　it　off　meant　that　only　someone　who　ran　her　fingers　across　the　numerals　would　realize　they　were　not　really　there。　Perhaps　it　would　not　take　fifteen　days　to　reach　Caemlyn；　but　more　than　a　week；　she　was　certain。
　　　　　　　Nynaeve　strode　to　the　window　and　peered　out　both　ways；　careful　not　to　put　her　head　out　through　the　open　casement。　It　was　night　out　there　as　in　the　waking　world；　a　full　moon　gleaming　on　bright　snow；　though　the　air　did　not　feel　cold。　No　one　else　should　be　there　except　them；　and　if　anyone　was；　it　was　someone　to　avoid。　〃I　hope　she　isn't　having　trouble　with　her　plans；〃　she　muttered。
　　　　　　　〃She　told　us　not　to　mention　those　even　to　each　other；　Nynaeve。　'A　secret　spoken　finds　wings。'　〃　That　had　been　another　of　Lini's　many　favorites。
　　　　　　　Nynaeve　grimaced　over　her　shoulder；　then　returned　to　peering　down　the　narrow　alley。　〃It's　different　for　you。　I　tended　her　as　a　child；　changed　her　swaddling；　smacked　her　bottom　a　time　or　two。　And　now　I　have　to　leap　when　she　snaps　her　fingers。　It's　hard。〃
　　　　　　　Elayne　could　not　help　herself。　She　snapped　her　fingers。
　　　　　　　Nynaeve　spun　so　fast　that　she　blurred；　her　face　pop…eyed　with　horror。　Her　dress　blurred；　too；　from　blue　riding　silks　to　an　Accepted's　banded　white　to　what　she　referred　to　as　good；　stout　Two　Rivers　wool；　dark　and　thick。　When　she　realized　Egwene　was　not　there；　had　not　been　listening；　she　almost　fainted　with　relief。
　　　　　　　When　they　stepped　back　to　their　bodies　and　woke　long　enough　to　tell　the　others　they　could　e　to　bed；　Aviendha　certainly　thought　it　a　good　joke；　and　Birgitte　laughed　as　well。　Nynaeve　had　her　revenge；　though。　The　next　morning；　she　woke　Elayne　with　an　icicle。　Elayne's　shrieks　woke　everybody　else　in　the　whole　village。
　　　　　　　Three　days　later；　the　first　explosion　came。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　
Chapter　21　
（Dragon）　
Answering　the　Summons　
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　The　great　winter　tempests　called　the　cemaros　continued　to　roll　up　out　of　the　Sea　of　Storms；　harsher　than　any　in　memory。　Some　said　this　year　the　cemaros　was　trying　to　make　up　for　the　months　of　delay。　Lightning　crackled　across　the　skies；　enough　to　make　the　darkness　patchy　at　night。　Wind　lashed　the　land　and　rain　flailed　it；　turning　all　but　the　hardest　roads　to　rivers　of　mud。　Sometimes　the　mud　froze　after　nightfall；　but　sunrise　always　brought　a　thaw；　even　under　a　gray　sky；　and　the　ground　became　bogs　once　more。　Rand　was　surprised　at　how　much　all　that　hampered　his　plans。
　　　　　　　The　Asha'man　he　had　sent　for　came　quickly；　at　midmorning　the　next　day；　riding　out　of　a　gateway　into　a　driving　downpour　that　obscured　the　sun　so；　it　might　as　well　have　been　twilight。　Through　the　hole　in　the　air；　snow　fell　back　in　Andor；　fat　white　flakes　swirling　about　thickly　and　hiding　what　lay　behind　them。　Most　of　the　men　in　the　short　column　were　bundled　in　heavy　black　cloaks；　but　the　rain　seemed　to　slip　around　them　and　their　horses。　It　was　not　obvious；　yet　anyone　who　noticed　would　look　twice；　if　not　three　times。　Keeping　dry　required　only　a　simple　weave；　so　long　as　you　did　not　mind　flaunting　what　you　were。　But　then；　the　black…and…white　disc　worked　on　a　crimson　circle　on　the　breast　of　their　cloaks　did　that。　Even　half…hidden　by　the　rain；　there　was　a　pride　about　them；　an　arrogance　in　the　way　they　sat　their　saddles。　A　defiance。　They　gloried　in　what　they　were。
　　　　　　　Their　mander；　Charl　Gedwyn；　was　a　few　years　older　than　Rand；　of　middling　height　and　wearing　the　Sword　and　Dragon；　like　Torval；　on　a　very　well　cut；　high…collared　coat　of　the　best　black　silk。　His　sword　was　mounted　lushly　with　silver；　his　silver…worked　sword　belt　fastened　with　a　silver　buckle　shaped　in　a　clenched　fist。　Gedwyn　termed　himself　Tsorovan'm'hael；　in　the　Old　Tongue；　Storm　Leader；　whatever　that　was　supposed　to　mean。　It　seemed　appropriate　to　the　weather；　at　least。
　　　　　　　Even　so；　he　stood　just　inside　the　entrance　to　Rand's　ornate　green　tent　and　scowled　out　at　the　cascading　rain。　A　guard　of　mounted　panions　encircled　the　tent；　no　more　than　thirty　paces　away；　yet　they　were　barely　visible。　They　might　have　been　statues；　ignoring　the　torrent。
　　　　　　　〃How　do　you　expect　me　to　find　anyone　in　this？〃　Gedwyn　muttered；　glancing　back　over　his　shoulder　at　Rand。　A　tick　late；　he　added；　〃My　Lord　Dragon。〃　His　eyes　were　hard　and　challenging；　but　they　always　were；　whether　looking　at　a　man　or　a　fence…post。　〃Rochaid　and　I　brought　eight　Dedicated　and　forty　Soldiers；　enough　to　destroy　an　army　or　cow　ten　kings。　We　might　even　make　an　Aes　Sedai　blink；〃　he　said　wryly。　〃Burn　me；　the　pair　of　us　could　do　a　fair　job　alone。　Or　you　could。　Why　do　you　need　anyone　else？〃
　　　　　　　〃I　expect　you　to　obey；　Gedwyn；〃　Rand　said　coldly。　Storm　Leader？　And　Manel　Rochaid；　Gedwyn's　second；　called　himself　Baijan'm'hael；　Attack　Leader。　What　was　Taim　up　to；　creating　new　ranks？　The　important　thing　was　that　the　man　made　weapons。　The　important　thing　was　that　the　weapons　stayed　sane　long　enough　to　be　used。　〃And　I　don't　expect　you　to　waste　time　questioning　my　orders。〃
　　　　　　　〃As　you　mand；　my　Lord　Dragon；〃　Gedwyn　muttered。　〃I'll　send　men　out　immediately。〃　With　a　curt　salute；　fist　to　chest；　he　strode　out　into　the　storm。　The　deluge　bent　away　from　him；　sheeting　down　the　small　shield　he　wove　around　himself。　Rand　wondered　whether　the　man　suspected　how　close　he　had　e　to　dying　when　he　seized　saidin　without　warning。
　　　　　　　You　must　kill　him　before　he　kills　you；　Lews　Therin　giggled。　They　will；　you　know。　Dead　men　can't　betray　anyone。　The　voice　in　Rand's　head　turned　wondering。　But　sometimes　they　don't　die。　Am　I　dead？　Are　you？
　　　　　　　Rand　pushed　the　words　down　to　a　fly's　buzzing；　just　on　the　edge　of　notice。　Since　his　reappearance　inside　Rand's　head；　Lews　Therin　seldom　went　silent　unless　forced。　The　man　seemed　madder　than　ever　most　of　the　time；　and　usually　angrier　as　well。　Stronger　sometimes；　too。　That　voice　invaded　Rand's　dreams；　and　when　he　saw　himself　in　a　dream；　it　was　not　always　himself　at　all　that　he　saw。　It　was　not　always　Lews　Therin；　either；　the　face　he　had　e　to　recognize　as　Lews　Therin's。　Sometimes　it　was　blurred；　yet　vaguely　familiar；　and　Lews　Therin　seemed　startled　by　it；　too。　That　was　an　indication　how　far　the　man's　madness　went。　Or　maybe　his　own。
　　　　　　　Not　yet；　Rand　thought。　I　can't　afford　to　go　mad　yet。
　　　　　　　When；　then？　Lews　Therin　whispered　before　Rand　could　mute　him　again。
　　　　　　　With　the　arrival　of　Gedwyn　and　the　Asha'man；　his　plan　to　sweep　the　Seanchan　westward　got　under　way。　Got　under　way；　and　crept　forward　as　slowly　as　a　man　laboring　along　one　of　those　mired　roads。　He　shifted　his　own　camp　at　once；　making　no　effort　to　hide　his　movements。　There　was　little　point　to　straining　for　secrecy。　Word　traveled　slowly　by　pigeon；　and　far　slower　by　courier；　once　the　cemaros　came；　yet　he　had　no　doubts　he　was　watched；　by　the　White　Tower；　by　the　Forsaken；　by　anyone　who　saw　gain　or　loss　in　where　the　Dragon　Reborn　went　and　could　afford　to　slip　coin　to　a　soldier。　Maybe　even　by　the　Seanchan。　If　he　could　scout　them；　why　not　they　him？　But　not　even　the　Asha'man　knew　why　he　was　moving。
　　　　　　　While　Rand　was　idly　watching　men　fold　his　tent　onto　a　high…wheeled　cart；　Weiramon　appeared　on　one　of　his　many　horses；　a　prancing　white　gelding　of　the　finest　Tairen　bloodstock。　The　rain　had　cleared；　though　gray　clouds　still　veiled　the　noonday　sun　and　the　air　felt　as　if　you　could　squeeze　water　out　of　it　with　your　hands。　The　Dragon　Banner　and　the　Banner　of　Light　hung　limp　and　sodden　on　their　tall　staffs。
　　　　　　　Tairen　Defenders　had　replaced　the　panions；　and　as　Weiramon　rode　through　their　mounted　ring；　he　frowned　at　Rodrivar　Tihera；　a　lean　fellow；　dark　even　for　a　Tairen；　with　a　short　beard　trimmed　to　a　very　sharp　point。　A　very　minor　noble　who　had　had　to　rise　through　his　abilities；　Tihera　was　punctilious　in　the　extreme。　The　fat　white　plumes　bobbing　on　his　rimmed　helmet　added　embellishment　to　the　elaborate　bow　he　gave　Weiramon。　The　High　Lord's　frown　deepened。
　　　　　　　There　was　no　need　for　the　Captain　of　the　Stone　to　be　personally　in　charge　of　Rand's　bodyguard；　but　he　frequently　was；　just　as　Marcolin　often　manded　the　panions　himself。　An　often　bitter　rivalry　had　grown　up　between　Defenders　and　panion