The Dragon Reborn by Robert Jordan
The woman with fiery hair handed Aviendha weapons; a long, heavy-bladed knife to belt at her waist, and a bristling quiver for the other side; a dark, curved bow that had the dull shine of horn, in a case to fasten on her back; and four short spears with long points to grip in her left hand along with a small, round hide buckler. Aviendha wore them as naturally as a woman in Emond’s Field would wear a scarf, just as her companions did. “Come,” she said, and started for the thicket they had already passed.
Egwene finally released saidar. She suspected all three of the Aiel could stab her with those spears before she could do anything about it, if that was what they wanted, but though they were wary, she did not think they would. And what if Nynaeve can’t Heal their friend? I wish she would ask before she makes these decisions that involve all of us!
As they headed for the trees, the Aiel scanned the land around them as if they expected the empty landscape to hold enemies as adept at hiding as themselves. Aviendha strode ahead, and Nynaeve kept up with her.
“I am Elayne of House Trakand,” Egwene’s friend said as if making conversation, “Daughter-Heir to Morgase, Queen of Andor.”
Egwene stumbled. Light, is she mad? I know Andor fought them in the Aiel War. It might be twenty years, but they say Aiel have long memories.
But the flame-haired Aiel closest to her only said, “I am Bain, of the Black Rock sept of the Shaarad Aiel.”
“I am Chiad,” the shorter, blonder woman on her other side said, “of the Stones River sept of the Goshien Aiel.”
Bain and Chiad glanced at Egwene; their expressions did not change, but she had the feeling they thought she was showing bad manners.
“I am Egwene al’Vere,” she told them. They seemed to expect more, so she added, “Daughter of Marin al’Vere, of Emond’s Field, in the Two Rivers.” That seemed to satisfy them, in a way, but she would have bet they understood it no more than she did all these septs and clans. It must mean families, in some way.
“You are first-sisters?” Bain seemed to be taking in all three of them.
Egwene thought they must mean sisters as it was used for Aes Sedai, and said “Yes,” just as Elayne said “No.”
Chiad and Bain exchanged a very quick look that suggested they were talking to women who might not be completely whole in their minds.
“First-sister,” Elayne told Egwene as if she were lecturing, “means women who have the same mother. Second-sister means their mothers are sisters.” She turned her words to the Aiel. “We neither of us know a great deal of your people. I ask you to excuse our ignorance. I sometimes think of Egwene as a first-sister, but we are not blood kin.”
“Then why do you not speak the words before your Wise Ones?” Chiad asked. “Bain and I became first-sisters.”
Egwene blinked. “How can you become first-sisters? Either you have the same mother, or you do not. I do not mean to offend. Most of what I know about the Maidens of the Spear comes from the little Elayne has told me. I know you fight in battle and don’t care for men, but no more than that.” Elayne nodded; the way she had described the Maidens to Egwene had sounded much like a cross between female Warders and the Red Ajah.
That look flashed back across the Aiel’s faces, as if they were not certain how much sense Egwene and Elayne had.
“We do not care for men?” Chiad murmured as if puzzled.
Bain knotted her brow in thought. “What you say comes near truth, yet misses it completely. When we wed the spear, we pledge to be bound to no man or child. Some do give up the spear, for a man or a child”—her expression said she herself did not understand this—“but once given up, the spear cannot be taken back.”
“Or if she is chosen to go to Rhuidean,” Chiad put in. “A Wise One cannot be wedded to the spear.”
Bain looked at her as if she had announced the sky was blue, or that rain fell from clouds. The glance she gave Egwene and Elayne said perhaps they did not know these things. “Yes, that is true. Though some try to struggle against it.”
“Yes, they do.” Chiad sounded as though she and Bain were sharing something between them.
“But I have gone far from the trail of my explanation,” Bain went on. “The Maidens do not dance the spears with one another even when our clans do, but the Shaarad Aiel and the Goshien Aiel have held blood feud between them over four hundred years, so Chiad and I felt our wedding pledge was not enough. We went to speak the words before the Wise Ones of our clans—she risking her life in my hold, and I in hers—to bond us as first-sisters. As is proper for first-sisters who are Maidens, we guard each other’s backs, and neither will let a man come to her without the other. I would not say we do not care for men.” Chiad nodded, with just the hint of a smile. “Have I made the truth clear to you, Egwene?”
“Yes,” Egwene said faintly. She glanced at Elayne and saw the bewilderment in her blue eyes she knew must be in her own. Not Red Ajah. Green, maybe. A cross between Warders and Green Ajah, and I do not understand another thing out of that. “The truth is quite clear to me, now, Bain. Thank you.”
“If the two of you feel you are first-sisters,” Chiad said, “you should go to your Wise Ones and speak the words. But you are Wise Ones, though young. I do not know how it would be done in that case.”
Egwene did not know whether to laugh or blush. She kept having an image of her and Elayne sharing the same man. No, that is only for first-sisters who are Maidens of the Spear. Isn’t it? Elayne did have spots of color in her cheeks, and Egwene was sure she was thinking of Rand. But we do not share him, Elayne. We can neither of us have him.
Elayne cleared her throat. “I do not think there is a need for that, Chiad. Egwene and I already guard each other’s backs.”
“How can that be?” Chiad asked slowly. “You are not wedded to the spear. And you are Wise Ones. Who would lift a hand against a Wise One? This confuses me. What need have you for guarding of backs?”
Egwene was spared having to come up with an answer by their arrival at the copse. There were two more Aiel under the trees, deep into the thicket, but next to the river. Jolien, of the Salt Flat sept of the Nakai Aiel, a blue-eyed woman with red-gold hair nearly the color of Elayne’s, was watching over Dailin, of Aviendha’s sept and clan. Sweat matted Dailin’s hair, making it a darker red, and she only opened her gray eyes once, when they first came near, then closed them again. Her coat and shirt lay beside her, and red stained the bandages wrapped around her middle.
“She took a sword,” Aviendha said. “Some of those fools that the oath-breaking treekillers call soldiers thought we were another handful of the bandits who infest this land. We had to kill them to convince them otherwise, but Dailin. . . . Can you heal her, Aes Sedai?”
Nynaeve went to her knees beside the injured woman and lifted the bandages enough to peer under them. She winced at what she saw. “Have you moved her since she was hurt? There is scabbing, but it has been broken.”
“She wanted to die near water,” Aviendha said. She glanced once at the river, then quickly away again. Egwene thought she might have shivered, too.
“Fools!” Nynaeve began rummaging in her pouch of herbs. “You could have killed her moving her with an injury like that. She wanted to die near water!” she said disgustedly. “Just because you carry weapons like men doesn’t mean you have to think like them.” She pulled a deep wooden cup out of the bag and pushed it at Chiad. “Fill that. I need water to mix these so she can drink them.”
Chiad and Bain stepped to the river’s edge and returned together. Their faces never changed, but Egwene thought they had almost expected the river to reach up and grab them.
“If we had not brought her here to the . . . river, Aes Sedai,” Aviendha said, “we would never have found you, and she would have died anyway.”
Nynaeve snorted and began sifting powdered herbs into the cup of water, muttering to herself. “Corenroot helps make blood, and dogwort for knitting flesh, and healall, of course, and. . . .” Her mutters trailed off into w
“The Wise Ones use herbs, Aes Sedai, but I had not heard that Aes Sedai used them.”
“I use what I use!” Nynaeve snapped and went back to sorting through her powders and whispering to herself.
“She truly does sound like a Wise One,” Chiad told Bain softly, and the other woman gave a tight nod.
Dailin was the only Aiel without her weapons in hand, and they all looked ready to use them in a heartbeat. Nynaeve surely isn’t soothing anyone, Egwene thought. Get them talking about something. Anything. Nobody feels like fighting if they’re talking of something peaceful.
“Do not be offended,” she said carefully, “but I notice you are all uneasy about the river. It does not grow violent unless there is a storm. You could swim in it if you wanted, though the current is strong away from the banks.” Elayne shook her head.
The Aiel looked blank; Aviendha said, “I saw a man—a Shienaran—do this swimming . . . once.”
“I don’t understand,” Egwene said. “I know there isn’t much water in the Waste, but you said you were ‘Stones River sept,’ Jolien. Surely you have swum in the Stones River?” Elayne looked at her as if she were mad.
“Swim,” Jolien said awkwardly. “It means . . . to get in the water? All that water? With nothing to hold on to.” She shuddered. “Aes Sedai, before I crossed the Dragonwall, I had never seen flowing water I could not step across. The Stones River. . . . Some claim it had water in it once, but that is only boasting. There are only the stones. The oldest records of the Wise Ones and the clan chief say there was never anything but stones since the first day our sept broke off from the High Plain sept and claimed that land. Swim!” She gripped her spears as if to fight the very word. Chiad and Bain moved a pace further from the riverbank.
Egwene sighed. And colored when she met Elayne’s eye. Well, I am not a Daughter-Heir, to know all these things. I will learn them, though. As she looked around at the Aiel women, she realized that far from soothing them, she had put them even more on edge. If they try anything, I will hold them with Air. She had no idea whether she could seize four people at once, but she opened herself to saidar, wove the flows in Air and held them ready. The Power pulsed in her with eagerness to be used. No glow surrounded Elayne, and she wondered why. Elayne looked right at her and shook her head.
“I would never harm an Aes Sedai,” Aviendha said abruptly. “I would have you know that. Whether Dailin lives or dies, it makes no difference in that. I would never use this”—she lifted one short spear a trifle—“against any woman. And you are Aes Sedai.” Egwene had the sudden feeling that the woman was trying to soothe them.
“I knew that,” Elayne said, as if talking to Aviendha, but her eyes told Egwene the words were for her. “No one knows much of your people, but I was taught that Aiel never harm women unless they are—what did you call it?—wedded to the spear.”
Bain seemed to think Elayne was failing to see truth clearly again. “That is not exactly the way of it, Elayne. If a woman not wedded came at me with weapons, I would drub her until she knew better of it. A man. . . . A man might think a woman of your lands was wedded if she bore weapons; I do not know. Men can be strange.”
“Of course,” Elayne said. “But so long as we do not attack you with weapons, you will not try to harm us.” All four Aiel looked shocked, and she gave Egwene a quick significant look.
Egwene held on to saidar anyway. Just because Elayne had been taught something did not mean it was true, even if the Aiel said the same thing. And saidar felt . . . good in her.
Nynaeve lifted up Dailin’s head and began pouring her mixture into the woman’s mouth. “Drink,” she said firmly. “I know it tastes bad, but drink it all.” Dailin swallowed, choked, and swallowed again.
“Not even then, Aes Sedai,” Aviendha told Elayne. She kept her eyes on Dailin and Nynaeve, though. “It is said that once, before the Breaking of the World, we served the Aes Sedai, though no story says how. We failed in that service. Perhaps that is the sin that sent us to the Three-fold Land; I do not know. No one knows what the sin was, except maybe the Wise Ones, or the clan chiefs, and they do not say. It is said if we fail the Aes Sedai again, they will destroy us.”
“Drink it all,” Nynaeve muttered. “Swords! Swords and muscles and no brains!”
“We are not going to destroy you,” Elayne said firmly, and Aviendha nodded.
“As you say, Aes Sedai. But the old stories are all clear on one point. We must never fight Aes Sedai. If you bring your lightnings and your balefire against me, I will dance with them, but I will not harm you.”
“Stabbing people,” Nynaeve growled. She lowered Dailin’s head, and laid a hand on the woman’s brow. Dailin’s eyes had closed again. “Stabbing women!” Aviendha shifted her feet and frowned again, and she was not alone among the Aiel.
“Balefire,” Egwene said. “Aviendha, what is balefire?”
The Aiel woman turned her frown on her. “Do you not know, Aes Sedai? In the old stories, Aes Sedai wielded it. The stories make it a fearsome thing, but I know no more. It is said we have forgotten much that we once knew.”
“Perhaps the White Tower has forgotten much, too,” Egwene said. I knew of it in that . . . dream, or whatever it was. It was as real as Tel’aran’rhiod. I’d gamble with Mat on that.
“No right!” Nynaeve snapped. “No one has a right to tear bodies so! It is not right!”
“Is she angry?” Aviendha asked uneasily. Chiad and Bain and Jolien exchanged worried looks.
“It is all right,” Elayne said.
“It is better than all right,” Egwene added. “She is getting angry, and it is much better than all right.”
The glow of saidar surrounded Nynaeve suddenly—Egwene leaned forward, trying to see, and so did Elayne—and Dailin started up with a scream, eyes wide open. In an instant, Nynaeve was easing her back down, and the glow faded. Dailin’s eyes slid shut, and she lay there panting.
I saw it, Egwene thought. I . . . think I did. She was not sure she had even been able to make out all the many flows, much less the way Nynaeve had woven them together. What Nynaeve had done in those few seconds had seemed like weaving four carpets at once while blindfolded.
Nynaeve used the bloody bandages to wipe Dailin’s stomach, smearing away bright red new blood and black crusts of dried old. There was no wound, no scar, only healthy skin considerably paler than Dailin’s face.
With a grimace, Nynaeve took the bloody cloths, stood up, and threw them into the river. “Wash the rest of that off of her,” she said, “and put some clothes back on her. She’s cold. And be ready to feed her. She will be hungry.” She knelt by the water to wash her hands.
CHAPTER
39
Threads in the Pattern
Jolien put an unsteady hand to where the wound had been in Dailin’s middle; when she touched smooth skin, she gasped as if she had not believed her own eyes.
Nynaeve straightened, drying her hands on her cloak. Egwene had to admit that good wool did better for a towel than silk or velvet. “I said wash her and get some clothes on her,” Nynaeve snapped.
“Yes, Wise One,” Jolien said quickly, and she, Chiad, and Bain all leaped to obey.
A short laugh burst from Aviendha, a laugh almost at the edge of tears. “I have heard that a Wise One in the Jagged Spire sept is said to be able to do this, and one in the Four Holes sept, but I always thought it was boasting.” She drew a deep breath, regaining her composure. “Aes Sedai, I owe you a debt. My water is yours, and the shade of my septhold will welcome you. Dailin is my second-sister.” She saw Nynaeve’s uncomprehending look and added, “She is my mother’s sister’s daughter. Close blood, Aes Sedai. I owe a blood debt.”
“If I have any blood to spill,” Nynaeve said dryly, “I will spill it myself. If you wish to repay me, tell me if there is a ship at Jurene. The next village south of here?”
“The village where the soldiers fly the Whi
“The Light send it is still there.” Nynaeve began putting away her folded papers of powdered herbs. “I have done what I can for the girl, Aviendha, and we must go on. All that she needs now is food and rest. And try not to let people stick swords in her.”
“What comes, comes, Aes Sedai,” the Aiel woman replied.
“Aviendha,” Egwene said, “feeling as you do about rivers, how do you cross them? I am sure there is at least one river nearly as big as the Erinin between here and the Waste.”
“The Alguenya,” Elayne said. “Unless you went around it.”
“You have many rivers, but some have things called bridges where we had need to cross, and others we could wade. For the rest, Jolien remembered that wood floats.” She slapped the trunk of a tall whitewood. “These are big, but they float as well as a branch. We found dead ones and made ourselves a . . . ship . . . a little ship, of two or three lashed together to cross the big river.” She said it matter-of-factly.
Egwene stared in wonder. If she were as afraid of something as the Aiel obviously were of rivers, could she make herself face it the way they did? She did not think so. What about the Black Ajah, a small voice asked. Have you stopped being afraid of them? That is different, she told it. There’s no bravery in that. I either hunt them, or else I sit like a rabbit waiting for a hawk. She quoted the old saying to herself. “It is better to be the hammer than the nail.”
“We had best be on our way,” Nynaeve said.
“In a moment,” Elayne told her. “Aviendha, why have you come all this way and put up with such hardship?”
Aviendha shook her head disgustedly. “We have not come far at all; we were among the last to set out. The Wise Ones nipped at me like wild dogs circling a calf, saying I had other duties.” Suddenly she grinned, gesturing to the other Aiel. “These stayed back to taunt me in my misery, so they said, but I do not think the Wise Ones would have let me go if they had not been there to companion me.”