“I have every right! You gave me your word. I did not know Aes Sedai could lie. If I am to teach you, I must know you will do as I say. I will not watch a pupil of mine cut her own throat!” Amys sighed; the glow around her vanished, and so did the barrier between Egwene and saidar. “I cannot shield you any longer. You are far stronger than I. In the One Power, you are. You very nearly battered down my shield. But if you cannot keep your word, I do not know that I want to instruct you.”
“I will keep my word, Amys. I promise I will. But I have to meet with my friends, in Tel'aran'rhiod. I promised them, too. Amys, they might need my help, my advice.” Amys's face was not easy to make out in the darkness, but Egwene did not see any softening. “Please, Amys. You've taught me so much already. I think I could find them wherever they are, now. Please, don't stop when there is so much yet for me to learn. Whatever you want me to do, I will.”
“Braid your hair,” Amys said in a flat tone.
“My hair?” Egwene said uncertainly. It would certainly be no inconvenience, but why? She wore it loose now, falling below her shoulders, yet it was not that long ago that she had almost burst with pride on the day the Women's Circle back home had said she was old enough to put her hair in a braid like the one Nynaeve still wore. In the Two Rivers, a braid said you were old enough to be considered a woman.
“One over each ear.” Amys's voice was still like a flat rock. “If you have no ribbon to twine in the braids, I will give you some. That is how little girls wear their hair among us. Girls too young to be held to their word. When you prove to me that you can keep yours, you can stop wearing it so. But if you lie to me again, I will make you cut your skirts off short, like little girls' dresses, and find you a doll to carry. When you decide to behave as a woman, you will be treated as a woman. Agree to it, or I will teach you no more.”
“I will agree if you will accompany me when I must meet —”
“Agree, Aes Sedai! I do not bargain with children, or those who cannot keep their word. You will do as I say, accept what I choose to give, and no more. Or else go off and get yourself killed on your own. I — will — not — aid it!”
Egwene was glad of the dark; it hid her scowl. She had given her word, but this was all so unfair. No one was trying to hedge Rand around with silly rules. Well, perhaps he was different. She was not sure she wanted to trade Amys's edicts for Couladin's desiring to put a spear through her, in any, case. Mat would certainly not put up with other people's rules. Yet ta'veren or not, Mat had nothing to learn; all he had to do was be. Very likely he would refuse to learn anything given the chance, unless it had to do with gambling or raising food. She wanted to learn. Sometimes it seemed an unending thirst; however much she absorbed, she could not quench it. That still did not make it fair. Only the way things are, she thought ruefully.
“I agree,” she said. “I will do as you say, accept what you give, and no more.”
“Good.” After a long pause, as if waiting to see whether Egwene wanted to say more — she wisely held her tongue — Amys added, “I mean to be hard on you, Egwene, but not without purpose. That you think I have taught you much already only shows how little you knew to begin. You have a strong talent for the dream; very likely you will outstrip any of us by far, one day. But if you do not learn what I can teach you — what we four can all teach you — you will never develop that talent fully. It is most likely you will not live long enough to do so.”
“I will try, Amys.” She thought she managed a good approximation of meekness. Why did the woman not say what she wanted to hear? If Egwene could not go to Tel'aran'rhiod alone, then Amys had to come, too, when she next met Elayne. Or it might be Nynaeve, next time.
“Good. Do you have anything else to say?”
“No, Amys.”
The pause was longer this time; Egwene waited as patiently as she could, hands folded on her knees.
“So you can hold your demands inside when you wish,” Amys said at last, “even if it does make you twitch like a goat with the itch. Do I mistake the cause? I can give you an ointment. No? Very well. I will accompany you when you must meet your friends.”
“Thank you,” Egwene said primly. A goat with an itch indeed!
“In case you did not listen when I first told you, learning will be neither easy nor short. You think you have worked these last days. Prepare to give real time and effort now.”
“Amys, I will learn as much as you can teach me, and I will work as hard as you want, but between Rand and the Darkfriends... Time to learn may turn out to be a luxury, and my purse empty.”
“I know,” Amys said wearily. “He troubles us already. Come. You have wasted enough time with your childishness. There is women's business to be discussed. Come. The others are waiting.”
For the first time Egwene realized Moiraine's blankets were empty. She reached for her dress, but Amys said, “That will not be needed. We only go a short way. Throw a blanket around your shoulders and come. I have done a great deal of work for Rand al'Thor already, and I must do more when we are finished.”
Shrugging a blanket around her doubtfully, Egwene followed the older woman into the night. It was cold. Skin turning to tight goose bumps, she hopped from bare foot to bare foot over stony ground that seemed little short of ice. After the heat of day, the night seemed as frigid as the heart of a Two Rivers winter. Her breath turned to thin mist in front of her mouth, absorbed immediately by the air. Cold or not, the air was still dry.
At the rear of the Wise Ones' camp stood a small tent she had not seen before, low like the others, but staked tightly down all around. To her surprise, Amys began, stripping off her clothes, and motioned her to do the same. Clenching her teeth to keep them from chattering, she followed Amys's example slowly. When the Aiel woman had shed down to her skin, she stood there just as if the night were not freezing, taking deep breaths and flailing herself with her arms before finally ducking inside. Egwene darted after her with alacrity.
Damp heat hit her like a stick between the eyes. Sweat popped out of every pore.
Moiraine was already there, and the other Wise Ones, and Aviendha, all bareskinned and sweating, sitting around a large iron kettle full to the brim with sooty stones. Kettle and stones alike radiated heat. The Aes, Sedai looked mostly recovered from her ordeal, though there was a tightness around her eyes that had not been there before.
As Egwene was gingerly finding a place to sit — no layered rugs here; only rocky ground — Aviendha scooped a handful of water from a smaller kettle at her side and tossed it into the larger one. The water hissed to steam, leaving not even a damp spot on the stones. Aviendha had a sour look on her face. Egwene knew how she felt. Novices in the Tower were also given chores; she was not sure if she had hated scrubbing floors more than pots or the other way around. This task did not look nearly so onerous.
“We must discuss what to do about Rand al'Thor,” Bair said when Amys was seated, too.
“Do about him?” Egwene said, alarmed. “He has the signs. He is the one you have been looking for.”
“He is the one,” Melaine said grimly, brushing long strands of redgold hair from her damp face, “We must try to see that as many of our people as possible survive his coming.”
“Just as importantly,” Seana said, “we must assure that he survives to fulfill the rest of the prophecy.” Melaine glared at her, and Seana added in a patient tone, “Else none of us will survive.”
“Rhuarc said he would set some of the Jindo for bodyguards,” Egwene said slowly. “Has he changed his mind?”
Amys shook her head. “He has not. Rand al'Thor sleeps in the Jindo tents, with a hundred men awake to see he wakes as well. But men often see things differently than we. Rhuarc will follow him, perhaps oppose him in decisions he thinks are wrong, but he will not try to guide him.”
“Do you think he needs guiding?” Moiraine arched an eyebrow at that, but Egwene ignored it. “He has done what he had to without guidance so far.”
“Rand al'Thor does not know our ways,” Amys replied. “There are a hundred mistakes he could make to turn a chief or clan against him, to make them see a wetlander instead of He Who Comes With the Dawn. My husband is a good man and a fine chief, but he is no peacetalker, trained to guide angry men to ground their spears. We must have someone close to Rand al'Thor who can whisper in his ear when he seems ready to step wrongly.” She motioned Aviendha to throw more water on the hot rocks; the younger woman complied with a sullen grace.
“And we must watch him,” Melaine put in sharply. “We must have some idea of what he means to do before he does it. The fulfillment of the Prophecy of Rhuidean has begun — it cannot be halted short of its end, one way or another — but I mean to see that as many of our people survive as is possible. How that can be managed depends on what Rand al'Thor intends.”
Bair leaned toward Egwene. She seemed to be all bone and sinew. “You have known him from childhood. Will he confide in you?”
“I doubt it,” Egwene told her. “He does not trust as he used to.” She avoided looking at Moiraine.
“Would she tell us if he did confide?” Melaine demanded. “I raise no anger here, but Egwene and Moiraine are Aes Sedai. What they seek may not be what we seek.”
“We served Aes Sedai once,” Bair said simply. “We failed them then. Perhaps we are meant to serve again.” Melaine flushed with obvious embarrassment.
Moiraine gave no sign that she saw, or that she had heard the woman's earlier words, for that matter. Except for that tightness around her eyes she looked as calm as ice. “I will help as I can,” she said coolly, “but I have little influence with Rand. For the present, he weaves the Pattern to his own design.”
“Then we must watch him closely and hope.” Bair sighed. “Aviendha, you will meet Rand al'Thor when he wakes each day and do not leave him until he goes to his blankets at night. You will stay as close to him as the hair on his head. Your training must come as we can manage, I fear; it will be a burden on you, doing both things, but it cannot be avoided. If you talk to him — and especially listen — you should have no trouble remaining near him. Few men will send away a pretty young woman who listens to them. Perhaps he will let something slip.”
Aviendha grew stiffer by the word. When Bair finished, she spat, “I will not!” Dead silence fell, and every eye swung to her, but she stared back defiantly.
“Will not?” Bair said softly. “Will not.” She seemed to be tasting words strange in her mouth.
“Aviendha,” Egwene said gently, “no one is asking you to betray Elayne, only to talk to him.” If anything, the former Maiden of the Spear looked even more eager