“When Merilille told us you would come all the way from Caemlyn today, I confess I would have doubted her, were she not Aes Sedai.” Ethenielle of Kandor, perhaps half a hand taller than Merilille, was plump, her black hair lightly dusted with gray, but there was nothing motherly about her despite her smile. Regal dignity clothed her as much as did her fine blue wool. Her eyes were blue, too, clear and level.
“We are pleased that you did come,” Paitar of Arafel said in a surprisingly deep, rich voice that made Elayne feel warmed, somehow. “We have much to discuss with you.” Vandene had said he was the most beautiful man in the Borderlands, and perhaps he had been long ago, but age had laid deep lines in his face, and only a fringe of short gray hair remained on his head. He was tall and broad-shouldered, though, in plain green, and he did look strong. And not a fool.
Where the others carried their years with grace, Tenobia of Saldaea flaunted youth if not beauty, with her eagle’s beak of a nose and wide mouth. Her tilted, almost purple eyes, level with Elayne’s, were her best feature. Perhaps her only one. Where the others dressed simply, even if they did rule nations, her pale blue dress was worked with pearls and sapphires and she wore more sapphires in her hair. Suitable for the court, but hardly for a camp. And where they were courteous . . . “Under the Light, Merilille Sedai,” Tenobia said in a high voice, frowning, “I know you speak truth, but she looks more a child than an Aes Sedai. You did not mention she would be bringing a black-eyed Aiel.”
Easar’s face never changed, but Paitar’s mouth tightened, and Ethenielle went so far as to cut her eyes briefly toward Tenobia in a glance that would have suited a mother. A very irritated and displeased mother.
“Black?” Aviendha muttered in confusion. “My eyes are not black. I never saw black eyes except on a peddler until I crossed the Dragonwall.”
“You know I can speak only the truth, Tenobia, and I assure you,” Merilille began.
Elayne silenced her with a touch on the arm. “It is enough that you know I am Aes Sedai, Tenobia. This is my sister, Aviendha, of the Nine Valleys Sept of the Taardad Aiel.” Aviendha smiled at them, or at least bared her teeth. “This is my Warder, Lady Birgitte Trahelion.” Birgitte made a short bow, her golden braid swaying.
One announcement caused as many startled looks as the other — an Aiel woman was her sister? her Warder was a woman? — but Tenobia and the others ruled lands on the edge of the Blight, where nightmares truly might walk abroad in daylight and anyone who let themselves be startled too greatly was as good as dead. Elayne gave them no chance to recover fully, though. Attack before they know what you are doing, Gareth Bryne had said, and keep attacking until you rout them or break through.
“Shall we consider the niceties completed?” she said, taking a cup that gave off the aroma of spiced wine from the tray proffered by the old soldier. A surge of caution flowed along the Warder bond, and she saw Aviendha glance sideways at the cup, but she did not mean to drink. She was just glad neither actually spoke. “Only a fool would think you have come all this way to invade Andor,” she said, walking to the chairs and sitting. Rulers or not, they had no choice but to follow or stare at her back. At Birgitte’s back, since she stood behind her. As usual, Aviendha folded herself to the floor and arranged her skirts in a neat fan. They followed. “The Dragon Reborn brings you,” Elayne went on. “You requested this audience with me because I was at Falme. The question is, why is that important to you? Do you think I can tell you more of what happened there than you already know? The Horn of Valere was sounded, dead heroes out of legend rode against Seanchan invaders, and the Dragon Reborn fought the Shadow in the sky for all to see. If you know that much, you know as much as I.”
“Audience?” Tenobia said incredulously, pausing half-seated. The camp chair creaked as she let herself drop the rest of the way. “No one requested an audience! Even if you already held the throne of Andor —!”
“Let us stay to the point, Tenobia,” Paitar broke in mildly. Rather than sitting, he stood, occasionally sipping at his wine. Elayne was glad she could see the wrinkles on his face. That voice could confuse a woman’s thoughts, otherwise.
Ethenielle spared Tenobia another quick glance while seating herself, and murmured something under her breath. Elayne thought she heard the word “marriage,” with a rueful sound, but that made no sense. In any case, she turned her attention to Elayne as soon as she was settled in her chair. “I might like your ferocity another time, Elayne Sedai, but there’s little to enjoy falling into an ambush that one of your own allies has helped lay.” Tenobia scowled, though Ethenielle did not even dart those sharp eyes in her direction. “What happened at Falme,” the Queen of Kandor told Elayne, “is not so important as what came of it. No, Paitar; we must tell her what we must tell her. She already knows too much for anything else. We know that you were a companion to the Dragon Reborn at Falme, Elayne. A friend, perhaps. You are right; we have not come to invade. We have come to find the Dragon Reborn. And we have marched all this way only to find that no one knows where he is to be found. Do you know where he is?”
Elayne hid her relief at the blunt question. It would never have been asked if they thought she was more than a companion or friend. She could be just as blunt. Attack and keep attacking. “Why do you want to find him? Emissaries or messengers could take any word you wanted to send him.” Which was as good as asking why they brought vast armies.
Easar had taken no wine, and he stood with his fists on his hips. “The war against the Shadow is fought along the Blight,” he said grimly. “The Last Battle will be fought in the Blight, if not at Shayol Ghul itself. And he ignores the Borderlands and concerns himself with lands that have not seen a Myrddraal since the Trolloc Wars.”
“The Car’a’carn decides where to dance the spears, wetlander,” Aviendha sneered. “If you follow him, then you fight where he says.” No one looked at her. They were all looking at Elayne. No one took the opening Aviendha had offered.
Elayne made herself breathe evenly and meet their gazes without blinking. A Borderland army was too great a trap for Elaida to lay in order to catch Elayne Trakand, but Rand al’Thor, the Dragon Reborn, might be another matter. Merilille shifted on her chair, but she had her instructions. No matter how many treaties the Gray sister had negotiated, once Elayne began, she was to keep silent. Confidence flowed along the bond with Birgitte. Rand was a stone, unreadable, and distant. “You know of the White Tower’s proclamation regarding him?” she asked q