“She came after us,” Perrin said. “She's with ... with Mistress Alys right now, and it's cold enough in there to snow.”
“Couldn't we just go somewhere else for a while?” Mat asked. “My da says, only a fool puts his hand in a hornet nest until he absolutely has to.”
Rand cut in. “She can't make us go back. Winternight should have been enough to make her see that. If she doesn't, we will have to make her.”
Mat's eyebrows lifted higher with every word, and when Rand finished he let out a low whistle. “You ever try to make Nynaeve see something she doesn't want to see? I have. I say we stay away till night, and sneak in then.”
“From my observation of the young woman,” Thom said, “I don't think she will stop until she has had her say. If she is not allowed to have it soon, she might keep on until she attracts attention none of us wants.”
That brought them all up short. They exchanged glances, drew deep breaths, and marched inside as if to face Trollocs.
Chapter 16
The Wisdom
Perrin led the way into the depths of the inn. Rand was so intent on what he intended to say to Nynaeve that he did not see Min until she seized his arm and pulled him to one side. The others kept on a few steps down the hall before realizing he had stopped, then they halted, too, half impatient to go on, half reluctant to do so.
“We don't have time for that, boy,” Thom said gruffly.
Min gave the whitehaired gleeman a sharp look. “Go juggle something,” she snapped, drawing Rand further away from the others.
“I really don't have time,” Rand told her. “Certainly not for any more fool talk about escaping and the like.” He tried to get his arm loose, but every time he pulled free, she grabbed it again.
“And I don't have time for your foolishness, either. Will you be still!” She gave the others a quick look, then moved closer, lowering her voice. “ A woman arrived a little while ago — shorter than I, young, with dark eyes and dark hair in a braid down to her waist. She's part of it, right along with the rest of you.”
For a minute Rand just stared at her. Nynaeve? How can she be involved? Light, how can I be involved? “That's ... impossible.”
“You know her?” Min whispered.
“Yes, and she can't be mixed in ... in whatever it is you ...”
“The sparks, Rand. She met Mistress Alys coming in, and there were sparks, with just the two of them. Yesterday I couldn't see sparks without at least three or four of you together, but today it's all sharper, and more furious.” She looked at Rand's friends, waiting impatiently, and shivered before turning back to him. “It's almost a wonder the inn doesn't catch fire. You're all in more danger today than yesterday. Since she came.”
Rand glanced at his friends. Thom, his brows drawn down in a bushy V, was leaning forward on the point of taking some action to hurry him along. “She won't do anything to hurt us,” he told Min. “I have to go, now.” He succeeded in getting his arm back, this time.
Ignoring her squawk, he joined the others, and they started off again down the corridor. Rand looked back once. Min shook her fist at him and stamped her foot.
“What did she have to say?” Mat asked.
“Nynaeve is part of it,” Rand said without thinking, then shot Mat a hard look that caught him with his mouth open. Then understanding slowly spread across Mat's face.
“Part of what?” Thom said softly. “Does that girl know something?”
While Rand was still trying to gather in his head what to say, Mat spoke up. “Of course she's part of it,” he said grumpily. “Part of the same bad luck we've been having since Winternight. Maybe having the Wisdom show up is no great affair to you, but I'd as soon have the Whitecloaks here, myself.”
“She saw Nynaeve arrive,” Rand said. “Saw her talking to Mistress Alys, and thought she might have something to do with us.” Thom gave him a sidelong look and ruffled his mustaches with a snort, but the others seemed to accept Rand's explanation. He did not like keeping secrets from his friends, but Min's secret could be as dangerous for her as any of theirs was for them.
Perrin stopped suddenly in front of a door, and despite his size he seemed oddly hesitant. He drew a deep breath, looked at his companions, took another breath, then slowly opened the door and went in. One by one the rest of them followed. Rand was the last, and he closed the door behind him with the utmost reluctance.
It was the room where they had eaten the night before. A blaze crackled on the hearth, and a polished silver tray sat in the middle of the table holding a gleaming silver pitcher and cups. Moiraine and Nynaeve sat at opposite ends of the table, neither taking her eyes from the other. All the other chairs were empty. Moiraine's hands rested on the table, as still as her face. Nynaeve's braid was thrown over her shoulder, the end gripped in one fist; she kept giving it little tugs the way she did when she was being even more stubborn than usual with the Village Council. Perrin was right. Despite the fire it seemed freezing cold, and all coming from the two women at the table.
Lan was leaning against the mantel, staring into the flames and rubbing his hands for warmth. Egwene, her back flat against the wall, had her cloak on with the hood pulled up. Thom, Mat, and Perrin stopped uncertainly in front of the door.
Shrugging uncomfortably, Rand walked to the table. Sometimes you have to grab the wolf by the ears, he reminded himself. But he remembered another old saying, too. When you have a wolf by the ears, it's as hard to let go as to hold on. He felt Moiraine's eyes on him, and Nynaeve's, and his face became hot, but he sat down anyway, halfway between the two.
For a minute the room was as still as a carving, then Egwene and Perrin, and finally Mat, made their reluctant way to the table and took seats—toward the middle, with Rand. Egwene tugged her hood further forward, enough to half hide her face, and they all avoided looking at anyone.
“Well,” Thom snorted, from his place beside the door. “At least that much is done.”