The Gathering Storm - By Robert Jordan & Brandon Sanderson Page 0,132

know how they are.”

Shevan turned away, seeming more disturbed than before. Why did Elaida invite them to dinner, if only to insult them and their Ajahs? As Egwene watched, the Red turned her attention to Ferane, and complained to her about Rubinde, a Sitter from the Green who also resisted Elaida’s efforts to end the talks. As she spoke, she raised her cup to Egwene, tapping it. Elaida had barely taken a few sips.

Egwene ground her teeth, filling the cup. The others had seen her do labor before—why, she’d cracked walnuts for Ferane. This wouldn’t ruin her reputation, not unless Elaida forced her to abase herself somehow.

But what was the point of this dinner? Elaida didn’t seem to be making any attempt to bring the Ajahs together. If anything, she was prying those rifts wider, the way she was dismissing those who disagreed with her. Occasionally, she would have Egwene refill her cup, but it never had room for more than a sip or two.

Slowly, Egwene began to understand. This dinner wasn’t about working with the Ajahs. It was about bullying the Sitters into doing as Elaida felt they should. And Egwene was simply there to be shown off! This was all about proving to the others how much power Elaida had—she could take someone that others had named Amyrlin, put a novice dress on her and send her to penance every day.

Egwene felt herself grow angry again. Why could Elaida always stir her emotions? Soup bowls were removed and plates of steamed, buttered carrots were brought, a hint of cinnamon striking the air. Egwene had not been given dinner, but she felt too sick to care about eating.

No, she thought, steeling herself. I will not end this early, like last time. I will endure. I am stronger than Elaida. I’m stronger than her madness.

The conversation continued, Elaida making insulting comments to the others, sometimes with intent, sometimes with apparent unawareness. The others steered the talk away from the rebels and toward the strangely overcast skies. Eventually, Shevan mentioned a rumor about the Seanchan working with Aiel far to the south.

“The Seanchan again?” Elaida said with a sigh. “You needn’t worry about them.”

“My sources say otherwise, Mother,” Shevan said stiffly. “I think we need to pay close attention to what they are doing. I have had some sisters ask this child about her experience with them, which has been extensive. You should hear the things they do to Aes Sedai.”

Elaida laughed a tinkling, melodic laugh. “Surely you know how the child is prone to exaggerate!” She glanced at Egwene. “Have you been spreading lies for your friend, the fool al’Thor? What did he tell you to say about these invaders? They are working for him, are they not?”

Egwene didn’t respond.

“Speak,” Elaida said, gesturing with her cup. “Tell these women you have been speaking lies. Confess or I’ll have you in penance again, girl.”

The penance she would take for not speaking would be better than suffering Elaida’s rage at contradicting her. Silence was the path to victory.

And yet, as Egwene glanced down the long mahogany table, set with bright white Sea Folk porcelain and flickering red candles, she saw five pairs of eyes studying her. She could see their questions. Egwene had spoken boldly to them when alone, but would she hold to her assertions now, faced by the most powerful woman in the world? A woman who held Egwene’s life in her hands?

Was Egwene the Amyrlin? Or was she just a girl who liked to pretend?

Light burn you, Elaida, she thought, gritting her teeth, seeing that she had been wrong. Silence wouldn’t lead to victory, not in front of these women. You are not going to like how this proceeds.

“The Seanchan are not working for Rand,” Egwene said. “And they are a severe danger to the White Tower. I have spread no lies. To say otherwise would be to betray the Three Oaths.”

“You haven’t taken the Three Oaths,” Elaida said sternly, turning toward her.

“I have,” Egwene said. “I’ve held no Oath Rod, but it isn’t the Rod that makes my words true. I have spoken the words of the oaths in my heart, and to me they are more dear, for I have nothing forcing me to hold to them. And by that oath holding me, I tell you again. I am a Dreamer, and I have Dreamed that the Seanchan will attack the White Tower.”

Elaida’s eyes flared for a moment, and she gripped her fork until her knuckles whitened.