To Elayne's surprise, Thom and Juilin were not asleep either. They had built a small fire beside the wagon and sat on either side of it, crosslegged on the ground, smoking their longstemmed pipes. Thom had tucked his shirt in, and Juilin had donned his coat, though no shirt, and turned the cuffs back. She took a look around before joining them. No one stirred in the camp, dark except for the light of this one fire and the glow of the lamps from their wagon's windows.
Neither man said anything while she settled her skirts; then Juilin looked at Thom, who nodded, and the thiefcatcher took something from the ground and held it out to her. “I found it where she was lying,” the dark man said. “As if it had dropped from her hand.”
Elayne took the silver arrow slowly. Even the fletching feathers appeared to be silver.
“Distinctive,” Thom said conversationally around his pipe. “And added to the braid... Every story mentions the braid for some reason. Though I've found some I think might be her under other names, without it. And some under other names with.”
“I do not care about stories,” Juilin put in. He sounded no more agitated than Thom. But then, it took a great deal to agitate either one of them. “Is it her? Bad enough if it isn't, a woman appearing naked out of nothing like that, but... What have you gotten us into, you and N... Nana?” He was troubled; Juilin did not make mistakes, and his tongue never slipped. Thom merely bubbled at his pipe, waiting.
Elayne turned the arrow in her hands, pretending to study it. “She is a friend,” she said finally. Until — unless — Birgitte released her, her promise held. “She is not Aes Sedai, but she has been helping us.” They looked at her, waiting for her to say more. “Why didn't you give this to Nynaeve?”
One of those glances passed between them — men seemed to carry on entire conversations through glances, around women at least — saying as clearly as spoken words what they thought of her keeping secrets. Especially when they all but knew for certain already. But she had given her word.
“She seemed upset,” Juilin said, sucking at his pipe judiciously, and Thom took his from between his teeth and blew out his white mustaches.
“Upset? The woman came out in her shift, looking lost, and when I asked if I could help her, she didn't snap my head off. She cried on my shoulder!” He plucked at his linen shirt, muttering something about dampness. “Elayne, she apologized for every cross word she has ever said to me, which is very nearly every other word out of her mouth. Said she ought to be switched, or maybe that she had been; she was incoherent half the time. She said she was a coward, and a stubborn fool. I don't know what is the matter with her, but she isn't herself by a mile.”
“I knew a woman who behaved like this, once,” Juilin said, peering into the fire. “She woke to find a burglar in her bedchamber and stabbed the man through the heart. Only, when she lit a lamp, it was her husband. His boat had come back to the docks early. She walked around like Nynaeve for half a month.” His mouth tightened. “Then she hanged herself.”
“I hate to lay this burden on you, child,” Thom added gently, “but if she can be helped, you are the only one of us who can do it. I know how to take a man out of his miseries. Give him a swift kick, or else get him drunk and find him a pr—” He harrumphed loudly, trying to make it seem a cough, and knuckled his mustaches. The one bad thing about him seeing her as a daughter was that now sometimes he seemed to think she was perhaps twelve. “Anyway, the point is that I do not know how to do this. And while Juilin might be willing to dandle her on his knee, I doubt she'd thank him for it.”
“I would sooner dandle a fangfish,” the thiefcatcher muttered, but not as roughly as he would have yesterday. He was as concerned as Thom, though less willing to admit it.
“I will do what I can,” she assured them, turning the arrow again. They were good men, and she did not like lying to them, or hiding things from them. Not unless it was absolutely necessary, anyway. Nynaeve claimed that you had to manage men for their own good, but there was such a thing as taking it too far. It was not right to lead a man into dangers he knew nothing of.
So she told them. About Tel'aran'rhiod and the Forsaken being loose, about Moghedien. Not quite everything, of course. Some events in Tanchico had been too shaming for her to want to think of them. Her promise held her concerning Birgitte's identity, and there was certainly no need to go into detail about what Moghedien had done to Nynaeve. It made explaining this night's happenings a little difficult, yet she managed. She did tell them everything she thought they should know, enough to make them aware for the first time what they were really up against. Not just the Black Ajah — that had certainly made them stare crosseyed when they learned it — but the Forsaken, and one of them very likely hunting her and Nynaeve. And she made it quite plain that they two would be hunting Moghedien as well, and that anyone close to them was in danger of being caught between hunter and prey either way.
“Now that you know,” she finished, “the choice to stay or go is yours.” She left it at that, and was careful not to look at Thom. She hoped almost desperately that he would stay, but she would not let him think that she was asking, not by so much as a glance.
“I haven't taught you half what you need to know if you're to be as good a queen as your mother,” he said, trying to sound gruff and spoiling it by brushing a strand of blackdyed hair from her cheek with a gnarled finger. “You'll not rid yourself of me this easily, child. I mean to see you mistress of Daes Dae'mar if I must drone in your ear until you go deaf. I haven't even taught you to handle a knife. I tried to teach your mother, but she always said she could tell a man to use a knife if one needed using. Fool way to look at it.”
She leaned forward and kissed his leathery cheek, and he blinked, bushy eyebrows shooting up, then smiled and stuck his pipe back into his mouth.
“You can kiss me, too,” Juilin said dryly. “Rand al'Thor will have my guts for fish bait if I don't hand you back to him in the same health he last saw you.”
Elayne lifted her chin. “I will not have you stay for Rand al'Thor, Juilin.” Hand her back? Indeed! “You will stay only if you want to. And I do not release you — or you, Thom!” — he had grinned at the thiefcatcher's comment — “from your promise to do as you are told.” Thom's startled look was quite satisfying. She turned back to Juilin. “You will follow me, and Nynaeve of course, knowing full well the enemies we face, or you may pack your belongings and ride Skulker where you wish. I will give him to you.”
Juilin sat up straight as a post, his dark face going darker. “I have never abandoned a woman in danger in my life.” He pointed his pipestem at her like a weapon. “You send me away, and I will be on your heels like a soarer on a sternchase.”
Not exactly what she wanted, but it would do. “Very well, then.” Rising, she held herself erect, the silver arrow at her side, and kept her slightly frosty manner. She thought they had finally realized who was in charge. “Morning is not far off.” Had Rand actually had the nerve to tell Juilin to “hand her back”? Thom would just have to suffer along with the other man for a time, and it served him right for that grin. “You will put out this fire and go to sleep. Now. No excuses, Thom. You'll be no good at all tomorrow without sleep.”
Obediently they began scuffing dirt over the flames with their boots, but when she reached the plain wooden steps of the wagon, she heard Thom say, “Sounds like her mother sometimes.”
“Then I am glad I have never met the woman,” Juilin grumbled in reply. “Flip for first guard?” Thom murmured an assent.
She almost went back, but found herself smiling instead. Men! It was a fond thought. Her good mood lasted until she was inside.
Nynaeve sat on the very edge of the bed, holding herself up with both hands, eyes trying to drift shut as she watched Birgitte. Her feet were still dirty.
Elayne put Birgitte's arrow into one of the cupboards behind some rough sacks of dried peas. Luckily, the other woman never so much as glanced at her. She did not think the sight of the silver arrow was what Nynaeve needed right at that moment. But what was?
“Nynaeve, it is past time for you to wash your feet and go to sleep.”
Nynaeve swayed in her direction, blinking sleepily. “Feet? What? I must watch her.”
It would have to be one step at a time. “Your feet, Nynaeve. They are dirty. Wash them.”
Frowning, Nynaeve peered down at her dusty feet, then nodded. She spilled water tipping the big white pitcher over the washbasin, and sloshed more out before she was washed and ready to towel dry, but even then she resumed her seat. “I must watch. In case... In case... She cried out once. For Gaidal.”