The Gathering Storm - By Robert Jordan & Brandon Sanderson Page 0,352

and immature, but predictable. This new Rand with the cold emotions and the cold voice was truly unnerving.

The narrow corridors of the Stone were still unfamiliar to Nynaeve, and she often got lost. Her disorientation wasn’t helped by the fact that hallways and walls sometimes changed places. She’d tried to discount such tales as superstitious nonsense, but the day before, she’d woken to discover that her room had indeed suddenly and mysteriously moved. Her door had opened to a smooth wall of the same seamless rock as the Stone itself. She’d been forced to escape through a gateway, and had been shocked to learn that her window looked out from a location two stories higher than it had the previous night!

Cadsuane said it was the Dark One’s touch on the world, causing the Pattern to unravel. Cadsuane said a lot of things, and few of them were things that Nynaeve wished to hear.

Nynaeve got lost twice as she wove her way through the corridors, but she eventually arrived at Cadsuane’s room. At least Rand hadn’t forbidden his stewards to grant her rooms. Nynaeve knocked—she’d learned that she’d better—then entered.

The Aes Sedai from Cadsuane’s group—Merise and Corele—sat in the room, knitting and sipping tea, trying to look like they were not waiting on the infernal woman’s whims. Cadsuane herself was speaking quietly with Min, whom she had all but appropriated in recent days. Min herself didn’t seem to mind, perhaps because it wasn’t easy to spend time with Rand these days. Nynaeve felt a stab of sympathy for the girl. Nynaeve only had to deal with Rand as a friend; all of this would be much harsher on the one who shared his heart.

All eyes turned toward Nynaeve as she closed the door. “I think I’ve found him,” she announced.

“Who is that, child?” Cadsuane said, leafing through one of Min’s books.

“Perrin,” Nynaeve said. “You were right; Rand did know where he was.”

“Excellent!” Cadsuane said. “You did well; it appears that you can be of use.”

Nynaeve wasn’t certain which annoyed her more—the backhanded compliment, or the fact that her heart swelled with pride at hearing it. She was no girl, without her braid, to be stroked by this woman’s words!

“Well?” Cadsuane looked up from the book. The others remained silent, though Min did shoot Nynaeve a congratulatory smile. “Where is he?”

Nynaeve’s opened her mouth to reply before she caught herself. What was it about this woman that made her want to obey? It wasn’t the One Power or anything to do with it. Cadsuane simply projected the air of a stern, but fair, grandmother. The type you never spoke back to, but who would give you some baked sweets in reward for sweeping the floor when told.

“First, I want to know why Perrin is important.” Nynaeve stalked into the room and took the only remaining seat, a painted wooden stool. When she sat, she found herself sitting a few inches below eye level. Like a student before Cadsuane. She almost stood up, but realized that would draw more attention.

“Phaw!” Cadsuane said. “You’d hold this knowledge back, even if it means the lives of those you hold dear?”

“I want to know what I’ve gotten myself into,” Nynaeve said stubbornly. “I want to know that this information isn’t going to end up hurting Rand further.”

Cadsuane snorted. “You presume to think that I’d hurt the fool boy?”

“I’m not going to presume otherwise,” Nynaeve snapped. “Not until you tell me what you are doing.”

Cadsuane closed the book—Echoes of His Dynasty—and looked perturbed. “Will you at least tell me how the meeting with the Borderlanders went?” she asked. “Or is that information held for ransom as well?”

Did she think she’d distract Nynaeve that easily? “It went poorly, as one might expect,” she said. “They’ve hunkered down outside Far Madding and refuse to meet with Rand unless he comes within range of the Guardian, cutting himself off from the Source.”

“Did he take it well?” Corele asked from her cushioned bench at the side of the room. She smiled faintly; she seemed to be the only one who thought the changes in Rand were amusing, rather than terrifying. But, then, she was one of the women who had bonded an Asha’man at practically the first opportunity.

“Did he take it well?” Nynaeve repeated flatly. “That depends. Does pulling out that blasted ter’angreal and threatening to rain down fire on the army strike you as ‘Taking it well’?”

Min paled. Cadsuane raised an eyebrow.

“I stopped him,” Nynaeve said. “But just barely. I