Taim nodded, then stalked off, meeting up with two of his Asha’man who waited nearby, beside the smithy. They immediately began speaking in hushed tones.
“I don’t like this,” Pevara said as soon as the men were away. Perhaps she said it too quickly, betraying her worries, but this place had her on edge. “This could easily turn to disaster. I’m beginning to think that we should do as I originally stated—bond a few Dedicated each and return to the White Tower. Our task was never to lock down the entire Black Tower, but to gain access to Asha’man and learn about them.”
“That’s what we’re doing,” Javindhra said. “I’ve been learning much these last few weeks. What have you been doing?”
Pevara did not rise to the other woman’s tone. Must she be so contrary? Pevara had leadership of this team, and the others would defer to her. But it didn’t mean that they would always be pleasant about it.
“This has been an interesting opportunity,” Javindhra continued, scanning the Tower grounds. “And I do think he will yield eventually on the subject of full Asha’man.”
Pevara frowned. Javindhra couldn’t honestly think that, could she? After how stubborn Taim had been? Yes, Pevara had yielded to suggestions that they remain in the Black Tower a little longer, to learn of its workings and ask Taim to allow them access to the more powerful Asha’man. But it was obvious now he would not give in. Surely Javindhra saw that.
Unfortunately, Pevara was having great difficulty reading Javindhra lately. Originally, the woman had seemed against coming to the Black Tower, only agreeing to the mission because the Highest had ordered it. Yet now she offered reasons to remain here.
“Javindhra,” Pevara said, stepping closer. “You heard what he said. We now need permission to leave. This place is turning into a cage.”
“I think, we’re safe,” Javindhra said, waving a hand. “He doesn’t know we have gateways.”
“So far as we know,” Pevara said.
“If you order it, I’m sure the others will go,” Javindhra said. “But I intended to continue to use the opportunity to learn.”
Pevara took a deep breath. Insufferable woman! Surely she wasn’t going so far as to ignore Pevara’s leadership of the group? After the Highest herself had placed Pevara in charge? Light, but Javindhra was growing erratic.
They parted without another word, Pevara spinning and walking back down the path. She kept her temper with difficulty. That last statement had been close to outright defiance! Well, if she wanted to disobey and remain, so be it. It was time to be returning to the White Tower.
Men in black coats walked all around her. Many nodded with those too-obsequious grins of feigned respect. Her weeks here had not done anything to make her more comfortable around these men. She would make a few of them Warders. Three. She could handle three, couldn’t she?
Those dark expressions, like the eyes of executioners while waiting for the next neck to line up before them. The way some of them muttered to themselves, or jumped at shadows, or held their heads and looked dazed. She stood in the very pit of madness itself, and it made her skin creep as if covered in caterpillars. She couldn’t help quickening her pace. No, she thought. I can’t leave Javindhra here, not without trying one more time. Pevara would explain to the others, give them the order to leave. Then she’d ask them, Tarna first, to approach Javindhra. Surely their united arguments would convince her.
Pevara reached the huts they had been given. She purposely did not look to the side, toward the line of small buildings where the bonded Aes Sedai made their homes. She’d heard what some of them were doing, trying to control their Asha’man using…various methods. That made her skin crawl, too. While she thought most Reds had too harsh an opinion of men, what those women did crossed the line with a heedless leap.
She stepped inside her hut, and there found Tarna at the desk writing a letter. The Aes Sedai had to share their huts, and Pevara had picked Tarna specifically. Pevara might have been made leader of this group, but Tarna was Keeper of the Chronicles. The politics of this particular expedition were very delicate, with so many influential members and so many opinions.
Last night, Tarna had agreed that it was time to leave. She’d work with Pevara on going to Javindhra.
“Taim has locked down the Black Tower,” Pevara said calmly, sitting on her bed in the small, circular chamber. “We now need his permission to leave. He said it offhandedly, as if it weren’t really meant to stop us. Just a rule he’d forgotten to give us a blanket exception to.”
“Likely, that’s just what it was,” Tarna said. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Pevara fell still. What? She tried again. “Javindhra still irrationally thinks he will change his mind on letting us bond full Asha’man. It’s time to bond Dedicated and leave, but she’s hinted that she’ll remain regardless of my intentions. I want you to speak to her.”
“Actually,” Tarna said, continuing to write, “I’ve been thinking on what we discussed last night. Perhaps I was hasty. There is much to learn here, and there is the matter of the rebels outside. If we leave, they will bond Asha’man, which should not be allowed.”
The woman looked up, and Pevara froze. There was something different in Tarna’s eyes, something cold. She’d always been a distant one, but this was worse.
Tarna smiled, a grimace that looked completely unnatural on her face. Like the smile on the lips of a corpse. She turned back to her writing.
Something is very, very wrong here, Pevara thought. “Well, you may be right,” she found herself saying. Her mouth worked, though her mind reeled. “This expedition was your suggestion, after all. I will think on it further. If you’ll excuse me.”
Tarna waved ambivalently. Pevara stood, years as an Aes Sedai keeping her profound worry from showing in her posture. She stepped outside, then walked eastward, along the unfinished wall. Yes, guard stations had been set up regularly. Earlier this morning, those hadn’t been manned. Now they were, with men who could channel. One of those men could strike her dead before she could respond. She couldn’t see their weaves, and she couldn’t strike first, because of her oaths.
She turned and walked to a small stand of trees, a place that was to become a garden. Inside, she sat down on a stump, breathing deeply. The coldness—almost lifelessness—she’d seen in Tarna’