The Gathering Storm - By Robert Jordan & Brandon Sanderson Page 0,71

the bedsheets. That would be a good payback.

She lay for too long a time, but eventually coaxed herself to sleep, smiling faintly to herself at the prospect of an apt revenge. She awoke in Tel’aran’rhiod wearing nothing but a scandalous, barely covering shift. She yelped, immediately replacing that—through concentration—with a green dress. Green? Why green? She made it blue. Light! How was it that Egwene was always so good at controlling things in Tel’aran’rhiod while Siuan could barely keep her clothing from switching at every idle thought? It must have something to do with the fact that Siuan had to wear this inferior ter’angreal copy, which didn’t work as well as the original. It made her look insubstantial to others who saw her.

She was standing in the middle of the Aes Sedai camp, surrounded by tents. The flaps of any given structure would be open one moment, then closed the next. The sky was troubled by a violent, yet strangely silent, storm. Curious, but things were often strange in Tel’aran’rhiod. She closed her eyes, willing herself to appear in the study of the Mistress of Novices in the White Tower. When she opened her eyes, she was there. A small, wood-paneled room with a stout desk and a table for strappings.

She would have liked to have the original ring, but Elayne had taken that one with her. She should be thankful for even a small catch, as her father had been fond of saying. She could have been left without any of the rings. The Sitters thought this one had been with Leane when she’d been captured.

Was Leane all right? At any moment, the false Amyrlin could opt for execution. Siuan knew all too well how spiteful Elaida could be; she still felt a stab of sorrow when she thought of poor Alric. Had Elaida felt a single moment of guilt over murdering a Warder in cold blood, before the woman she was tearing down had been properly deposed?

“A sword, Siuan?” Egwene’s voice suddenly asked. “That’s novel.”

Siuan looked down, shocked to find herself holding a bloody sword, likely intended for Elaida’s heart. She made it vanish, then regarded Egwene. The girl looked the part of the Amyrlin, wearing that magnificent golden gown, her brown hair in an intricate arrangement set with pearls. Her face wasn’t ageless yet, but Egwene was getting very good at the calm serenity of an Aes Sedai. In fact, she seemed to have grown measurably better at that since her capture.

“You look well, Mother,” Siuan said.

“Thank you,” Egwene said, with a faint smile. She showed more of herself around Siuan than she did the others. They both knew how heavily Egwene had relied on Siuan’s teaching to get where she was.

Though she’d probably have made it there anyway, Siuan admitted. Just not quite as quickly.

Egwene glanced at the room around them, then grimaced faintly. “I realize I suggested this location last time, but I have seen enough of this room lately. I will meet you in the novices’ dining hall.” She vanished.

An odd choice, but very unlikely to conceal unwanted ears. Siuan and Egwene weren’t the only ones who used Tel’aran’rhiod for clandestine meetings. Siuan closed her eyes—she didn’t need to, but it seemed to help her—and imagined the novices’ dining hall, with its rows of benches and its bare walls. When she opened her eyes, she was there, as was Egwene. The Amyrlin settled back and a majestic stuffed chair appeared behind her, catching her gracefully as she sat. Siuan didn’t trust herself to do anything so complicated; she simply sat down on one of the benches.

“I think we may want to start meeting more frequently, Mother,” Siuan said, tapping the table as she ordered her thoughts.

“Oh?” Egwene asked, sitting up straighter. “Has something happened?”

“Several somethings,” Siuan said, “and I’m afraid a few of them smell as ripe as last week’s catch.”

“Tell me.”

“One of the Forsaken was in our camp,” Siuan said. She hadn’t wanted to think about that too frequently. The knowledge made her skin crawl.

“Is anyone dead?” Egwene asked, voice calm though her eyes looked to be steel.

“No, bless the Light,” Siuan said. “Other than those you already know about. Romanda made the connection. Egwene, the creature had been with us for some time, in hiding.”

“Who?”

“Delana Mosalaine,” Siuan said. “Or her serving woman, Halima. Most likely Halima, as I’ve known Delana for a great long time.” Egwene’s eyes widened just faintly. Halima had waited on Egwene. Egwene had been touched and served by