“I see you, Havien Nurelle,” Rand said gravely, and the boy blinked. Boy? Come to think on it, he might be no younger than Rand. That was a shock! “If you and Corman will show me—” Suddenly he realized Aviendha was gone. He nearly broke his back trying to avoid the woman, and the first time in weeks he agreed to let her near him, she slipped away as soon as his head turned! “Take me to Berelain and Rhuarc,” he ordered gruffly. “If they’re not together, take me to whoever is closer, and find the other.” Running to the Wise Ones, no doubt, to report on what he had been up to. He would leave the woman behind here.
What you want is what you cannot have. What you cannot have is what you want. Lews Therin laughed maniacally. It did not bother Rand as much as it once had. Not quite as much. What had to be endured, could be.
Discussing who was nearest, Corman and Havien left their men behind, but they still made quite a procession, with all the Maidens and Red Shields following close, crowding the square-vaulted hallway. The corridor had a dark, heavy feel despite lighted stand-lamps. There was very little color anywhere, except in occasional tapestries, and the Cairhienin tried to make up for it by having everything rigidly arranged, whether embroidered flowers or birds, deer or leopards in a hunt, or nobles in battle. For the Cairhienin servants who scurried out of the way, livery usually meant colored stripes on the cuffs and a house badge embroidered on the breast; sometimes a collar or sleeves in House colors, very seldom an entire coat or dress. Only upper servants would show more color. Cairhienin liked order, and disliked flamboyance. An occasional niche held a golden bowl or a Sea Folk vase, but stark and worked with straight lines, trying to disguise their curves if they had any. Whenever the hall gave way to a square-columned colonnade, if there was a garden below, the walks made a precise grid, every flower bed the same size, shrubs and small trees rigidly pruned and spaced. Had the drought and heat allowed any flowers, he was sure they too would have bloomed in straight lines.
Rand wished Dyelin could see those bowls and vases. The Shaido had carried away whatever they could lift, all the way across Cairhien, and burned what they could when they could not carry it, but such behavior violated ji’e’toh. The Aiel who followed Rand and had saved the city had taken, but by their rules, when they took a place in battle they were allowed a fifth of what it held and not a spoon more. Bael had agreed, reluctantly, to forgo even that in Andor, but Rand thought no one without a list would believe anything had been taken here at all.
For all their discussion, Corman and Havien failed to find either Rhuarc or Berelain before they were found themselves instead.
The two came to meet Rand alone in one of the colonnades, without entourage, which only made him feel as though he was leading a parade himself. Rhuarc in his cadin’sor, gray streaking his dark red hair, towered over Berelain, a pale, beautiful young woman in a blue and white dress cut low enough to make Rand clear his throat when she curtsied. Shoufa looped loosely around his neck, Rhuarc carried no weapon but a heavy Aiel knife. She wore the Diadem of the First, a golden hawk in flight, in shining black hair that made waves to bare shoulders.
Perhaps it was just as well Aviendha had gone; sometimes she had a violent way toward women she even thought were putting themselves forward with him.
Suddenly he realized that Lews Therin was humming tunelessly. Something about it seemed troubling, but what . . . ? Humming. Like a man admiring a pretty woman who was not aware of him.
Stop that! Rand shouted inside his head. Stop looking through my eyes! No telling whether he heard—was there someone there to hear?—but the humming stopped.
Havien went to one knee, but Berelain gestured him to rise almost absently. “I trust all is well with my Lord Dragon, and with Andor.” She had the sort of voice that made a man listen. “And with your friends, Mat Cauthon and Perrin Aybara, as well.”
“All is well,” he told her. She always asked after Mat and Perrin, however often he told her one was on his way to Tear and the other he had not seen since before going to the Waste. “And with you?”
Berelain glanced at Rhuarc as they fell in on either side of Rand, proceeding into the next stretch of corridor. “As well as can be expected, my Lord Dragon.”
“It is well, Rand al’Thor,” Rhuarc said. There was not much expression on his face, but then, there seldom was.
Rand knew both understood why he had put Berelain in charge here. Cold reasons. The first ruler to offer him alliance freely, he could trust her because she needed him, now more than ever since that alliance, to keep Tear from Mayene’s throat. The High Lords had always tried to treat Mayene like a province. Besides, a foreigner from a small nation hundreds of leagues south, she had no reason to favor one faction over another in Cairhien, she had no hope of seizing power, and she knew the running of a country. Hard reasons. Given how Aiel felt about Cairhienin and Cairhienin about Aiel, putting Rhuarc in charge would have led to bloodshed, and Cairhien had had enough of that.
The arrangement seemed to be working out well. As with Semaradrid and Weiramon in Tear, the Cairhienin accepted a Mayener as governor as much because she was not Aiel as because Rand appointed her. Berelain did know what she was doing, and she at least listened to advice offered by Rhuarc, speaking for the clan chiefs remaining in Cairhien. No doubt she had to deal with the Wise Ones as well—they would give up meddling, which they did not see as such, a day after Aes Sedai did—but she had not mentioned them so far.
“And Egwene?” Rand said. “Is she any better?”
Berelain’s lips compressed slightly. She did not like Egwene. But then, Egwene did not like her. No reason for it, that he knew, but there it was.
Rhuarc spread his hands. “So far as Amys tells me.” As well as being a Wise One, Amys was his wife. One of his wives; he had two, one of the odder Aiel customs among many Rand found odd. “She says Egwene yet needs rest, light exercise, plenty of food and fresh air. I think she takes walks in the cool of the day.” Berelain gave him a wry look; the faint sheen of perspiration on her face did not detract from her beauty, but of course Rhuarc was not sweating at all.
“I would like to see her. If the Wise Ones permit,” Rand added. The Wise Ones were as jealous of their prerogatives as any Aes Sedai he had ever met, making sure of them with sept chiefs, clan chiefs and perhaps most of all with the Car’a’carn. “