What is a “Fetch”? Egwene wondered. Or a “fangfish,” for that matter.
“We will have proof when we find them,” Nynaeve said. “They will have the things they stole, and we can describe them. They are old things, and of little value to anyone but us, and our friends.”
“You would be surprised what old things can be worth,” Ailhuin said dryly. “Old Leuese Mulan pulled up three heartstone bowls and a cup in his nets last year, down in the Fingers of the Dragon. Now, instead of a fishing smack, he owns a ship trading up the river. Old fool did not even know what he had till I told him. Very likely there's more right where those came from, but Leuese couldn't even remember the exact spot. I do not know how he ever managed to get a fish into his net. Half the fishing boats in Tear were down there for months afterwards, dragging for cuendillar, not grunts or flatfish, and some had lords saying where to pull the nets. That's what old things can be worth, if they are old enough. Now, I've decided you do need a man in this, and I know just the one.”
“Who?” Nynaeve said quickly. “If you mean a lord, one of the High Lords, remember we have no proof to offer till we find them.”
Ailhuin laughed until she wheezed. “Girl, nobody from the Maule knows High Lord, or any kind of lord. Mudfish don't school with silversides. I will bring you the dangerous man I know who isn't a swordsman, and the more dangerous of the two, at that. Juilin Sandar is a thiefcatcher. The best of them. I do not know how it is in Andor, but here a thiefcatcher will work for you or me as soon as for a lord or a merchant, and charge less at that. Juilin can find these women for you if they can be found, and bring your things back without you having to go near these Darkfriends.”
Nynaeve agreed as if she were still not entirely sure, and Ailhuin tied those platforms to her shoes — clogs, she called them — and hurried out. Egwene watched her go, through one of the kitchen windows, past the horses and around the corner up the alley.
“You are learning how to be Aes Sedai, Maryim,” she said as she turned from the window. “You manipulate people as well as Moiraine.” Nynaeve's face went white.
Elayne stalked across the floor and slapped Egwene's face. Egwene was so shocked she could only stare. “You go too far,” the goldenhaired woman said sharply. “Too far. We must live together, or we will surely die together! Did you give Ailhuin your true name? Nynaeve told her what we could, that we seek Darkfriends, and that was risk enough, linking us with Darkfriends. She told her they were dangerous, murderers. Would you have had her say they are Black Ajah? In Tear? Would you risk everything on whether Ailhuin would keep that to herself?”
Egwene rubbed her cheek gingerly. Elayne had a strong arm. “I do not have to like doing it.”
“I know,” Elayne sighed. “Neither do I. But we do have to.”
Egwene turned back to peering through the window at the horses. I know we do. But I do not have to like it.
Chapter 49
(Dice)
A Storm in Tear
Egwene finally returned to the table and her tea. She thought perhaps Elayne was right, that she had gone too far, but she could not bring herself to apologize, and they sat in silence.
When Ailhuin returned, she had a man with her, a lean fellow in his middle years who looked as if he had been carved from aged wood. Juilin Sandar took off his clogs by the door and hung his flat, conical straw hat on a peg. A swordbreaker, much like Hurin's but with short slots to either side of the long one, hung from a belt over his brown coat, and he carried a staff exactly as tall as he was, but not much thicker than his thumb and made of that pale wood, like ridged joints, that the oxdrivers used for their goads. His shortcut black hair lay flat on his head, and his quick, dark eyes seemed to note and record every detail of the room. And of everyone in it. Egwene would have bet he examined Nynaeve twice, and to her, at least, Nynaeve's lack of reaction was blatant; it was obvious she knew it, too.
Ailhuin motioned him to a place at the table, where he turned back the cuffs of his coat sleeves, bowed to each of them in turn, and sat with his staff propped against his shoulder, not speaking until the grayhaired woman had made a fresh pot of tea and everyone had sipped from their cups.
“Mother Guenna has told me of your problem,” he said quietly as he set his cup down. “I will help you if I can, but the High Lords may have their own business to put me to, soon.”
The big woman snorted. “Juilin, when did you begin haggling like a shopkeeper trying to charge silk prices for linen? Do not claim you know when the High Lords will summon you before they do.”
“I won't claim it,” Sandar told her with a smile, “but I know when I've seen men on the rooftops in the night. Just out of the corner of my eye — they can hide like pipefish in reeds — but I have seen the movement. No one has reported a theft yet, but there are thieves working inside the walls, and you can buy your supper with that. Mark me. Before another week, I'll be summoned to the Stone because a band of thieves is breaking into merchants' houses, or even lords' manors. The Defenders may guard the streets, but when thieves need tracking they send for a thiefcatcher, and me before any other. I am not trying to drive up my price, but whatever I do for these pretty women, I must do soon.”
“I believe he speaks the truth,” Ailhuin said reluctantly. “He'll tell you the moon is green and water white if he thinks it will bring him a kiss, but he lies less than most men about other things. He may be the most honest man ever born in the Maule.” Elayne put a hand over her mouth, and Egwene struggled not to laugh. Nynaeve sat unmoved and obviously impatient.
Sandar grimaced at the grayhaired woman, then apparently decided to ignore what she had said. He smiled at Nynaeve. “I will admit that I'm curious about these thieves. I've known women thieves, and bands of thieves, but I never heard of a band of women thieves before. And I owe Mother Guenna favors.” His eyes seemed to record Nynaeve all over again.
“What do you charge?” she asked sharply.
“To recover stolen goods,” he said briskly, “I ask the tenth part of the value of what I recover. For finding someone, I ask a silver mark for each person. Mother Guenna says the things stolen have little value except to you, mistress, so I suggest you take that choice.” He smiled again; he had very white teeth. “I would not take money from you at all, except that the brotherhood would frown on it, but I will take as little as I can. A copper or two, no more.”
“I know a thieftaker,” Elayne told him. “From Shienar. A very respectful man. He carries a sword as well as a swordbreaker. Why do you not?”
Sandar looked startled for a moment, and then upset with himself for being startled. He had not caught her hint, or else had decided to ignore it. “You are not Tairen. I have heard of Shienar, mistress, tales of Trollocs, and every man a warrior.” His smile said these were tales for children.
“True stories,” Egwene said. “Or true enough. I have been to Shienar.”
He blinked at her, and went on. “I am not a lord, nor a wealthy merchant, nor even a soldier. The Defenders do not trouble foreigners much for carrying swords — unless they mean to stay long, of course — but I would be thrust into a cell under the Stone. There are laws, mistress.” His hand rubbed along his staff, as if unconsciously. “I do as well as may be, without a sword.” He focused his smile on Nynaeve once more. “Now, if you will describe these things — ”
He stopped as she set her purse on the edge of the table and counted out thirteen silver marks. Egwene thought she had chosen the lightest coins; most were Tairen, only one Andoran. The Amyrlin had given them a great deal of gold, but even that would not last forever.
Nynaeve looked into the purse thoughtfully before tightening the strings and putting it back into her pouch. “There are thirteen women for you to find, Master Sandar, with as much silver again when you do. Find them, and we will recover our property ourselves.”