She cut him off. “The last place anyone would look for us is among the shows.” The last place anyone but Moghedien would look, at least. “You'll agree we should keep from sight as much as possible? If you did find a room, more than likely you'd have to have someone put out of it. A Child of the Light securing a room so for two women? That would set tongues wagging and draw eyes like flies to a midden.”
He did not like it, grimacing, and glaring at Uno and, Ragan as if it were their fault, but he had enough sense to see sense. “It is no fit place for either of you, but it is probably safer than anywhere inside the city at that. Since you have at least agreed to go to Caemlyn, I will say no more on it.”
She kept her face smooth and let him think as he wished. If he thought she had promised what she had not, that was his affair. She had to keep him away from the show as much as possible, though. One glimpse of his sister in those spangled white breeches, and the uproar would overshadow any riot Masema could raise. “You will have to stay clear of the menagerie, mind. Until you find a ship, anyway. Then come to the performers' wagons at nightfall and ask for Nana.” He liked that even less, if possible, but she forestalled him firmly. “I've not seen a single Child of the Light near any of the shows. If you visit one, don't you think people will notice and ask why?”
His smile was still gorgeous, but it showed too many teeth. “You have an answer for everything, it seems. Do you have any objection to my escorting you back there, at least?”
“I most certainly do. There will be rumors as it is — a hundred people must have noticed us talking here” — she could no longer see the street past the three men, yet she had no doubt passersby were still glancing into the alley, and Uno and Ragan had not resheathed their swords —“but if you accompany me, we'll be seen by ten times as many.”
His wince was half rueful, half mirthful. “An answer for everything,” he muttered. “But you have the right of it.” Clearly he wished she did not. “Hear me, Shienarans,” he said, turning his head, and suddenly his voice was steel. “I am Galadedrid Damodred, and this woman is under my protection. As for her companion, I would count it small loss to die in order to save her the smallest harm. If you allow either to come to that smallest harm, I will find you both and kill you.” Ignoring the sudden, dangerous blankness of their faces as completely as he did their swords, he swung his eyes back to her. “I suppose you still will not tell me where Egwene is?”
“All you need know is that she is far from here.” Folding her arms beneath her breasts, she could feel her heart beating through her ribs. Was she making a dangerous mistake because of a pretty face? “And safer than any action of yours can make her.”
He looked as if he did not believe her, but he made no more of it. “With luck, I will find a vessel in a day or two. Until then, stay close to this Valan Luca's... show. Stay low and avoid notice. As much as you can with your hair that color. And tell Elayne not to run away from me again. The Light shone on you to let me find you still in one piece, and it will have to shine twice as brightly to keep you from harm if you try haring off across Ghealdan. This Prophet's blasphemous ruffians are everywhere, without respect for law or persons, and that does not count brigands taking advantage of disorder. Samara itself is a wasp nest, but if you will sit quietly and convince my headstrong sister to do the same I will find a way to get you out of it before you are stung.”
It was an effort to keep her mouth shut. Taking what she told him and making it an injunction to her! Next thing the man would want to pack her and Elayne in wool and sit them on a shelf! Wouldn't it be best if someone did? a tiny voice asked. Haven't you caused enough trouble going your own way? She told the voice to be quiet. It did not listen, but began listing disasters and near disasters sprung from her own stubbornness.
Apparently taking her silence for acquiescence, .he turned away from her — and stopped. Ragan and Uno had moved to block his way to the street, glancing at her with that strange, deceptive calm men so often adopted when they were a hairsbreadth from sudden violence. The air seemed to crackle, until she motioned hurriedly. The Shienarans lowered their blades and stood aside, and Galad took his hands from his sword, brushed past them and melded into the crowd without a backward glance.
Nynaeve gave Uno and Ragan each a good glare before stalking off in the opposite direction. There she had had everything arranged properly, and they had to nearly ruin it all. Men always seemed to think violence could solve anything. If she had had a stout stick, she would have thumped all three of them about the shoulders until they saw reason.
The Shienarans seemed to see a little of it, now; they caught up to her, swords scabbarded on their backs once more, and followed without a word, even when she twice took a wrong turn and had to double back. It was especially well for them that they kept silent then. She had had enough of holding her tongue. First Masema, and then Galad. All she wanted was a waferthin excuse to tell someone exactly what she thought. Especially that little voice in her head, pushed back to an insect buzz now but refusing to be quiet.
By the time they were out of Samara and on that dirt cart track, with its sparse traffic, the voice refused to be denied. She worried over Rand's arrogance, but hers had brought herself and others as near calamity as made no never mind. For Birgitte, perhaps it was well over the line, even if she was alive. The best thing was for Nynaeve not to confront them again, not the Black Ajah and not Moghedien, not until someone who knew what they were doing could decide what should be done. Protest welled up, but she stamped on it as firmly as she ever had on Thom or Juilin. She would go to Salidar and hand the matter over to the Blues. That was how it would be. She was set on it.
“Have you eaten something that disagrees with you?” Ragan said. “Your mouth is twisted as if you had chewed a ripe duckberry.”
She gave him a look that snapped his teeth shut and stalked on. The two Shienarans kept pace to either side.
What was she going to do with them? That she should put them to some use was never in doubt; their appearance was too providential to throw away. For one thing, two additional pairs of eyes — well, three eyes anyway; she was going to learn to look at that patch without swallowing if it killed her — more eyes hunting for a ship might mean finding one sooner. All very well if Masema or Galad found a vessel first, but she did not want either to know more of her doings than she had to allow. There was no telling what either might do.“Are you following me because Masema told you to look after me,” she demanded, “or because Galad did?”
“What flaming difference does it make?” Uno muttered. “If the Lord Dragon has summoned you, you bloody well —” He cut off, frowning, as she raised one finger. Ragan eyed it as if it were a weapon.
“Do you mean to help Elayne and me reach Rand?”
“We've nothing better to do,” Ragan said dryly. “As it is, we'll not see Shienar again till we are gray and toothless. We might as well ride with you to Tear or wherever he is.”
She had not considered that, but it made sense. Two more to help Thom and Juilin with chores and standing guard. No need to let them know how long that might take, or how many stops and detours could lie along the way. The Blues in Salidar might not let any of them go further. Once they reached Aes Sedai, they would be only Accepted again. Stop thinking about it! You are going to do it!
The crowd waiting in front of Luca's garish sign appeared no smaller than it had before. A stream of people trickled into the meadow to join the throng as another stream meandered out, exclaiming over what they had seen. Now and again the “boarhorses” were visible, rearing above the canvas wall, to oohs and aahs from those waiting to get in. Cerandin was putting them through their paces again. The Seanchan woman always saw that the s'redit got plenty of rest. She was very firm about that, whatever Luca wanted. Men did do as they were told when you left no doubt that anything else was inconceivable. Usually they did.
Short of the welltrampled brown grass, Nynaeve stopped and turned to face the two Shienarans. She kept her face calm, but they looked suitably wary, though in Uno's case, regrettably, that involved fiddling with his eyepatch in a queasymaking way. The folk heading to or from the show paid no heed to them.
“Then it will not be because of Masema or Galad,” she said firmly. “If you are going to travel with me, you will do as I say, else you can go your own way, for I'll have none of you.”
Of course they had to exchange glances before nodding acceptance. “If that's how it flaming has to be,” Uno growled, “then well enough. If you don't have somebody to bloody well look after you, you'll never flaming live to reach the Lord Dragon. Some sheepgutted farmer will have you for breakfast because of your tongue.” Ragan gave him a guarded look that said be agreed with every word but strongly doubted Uno's wisdom in voicing them. Ragan, it seemed, had the makings of a wise man in him.
If they accepted her terms, it did not really matter why. For now. There would be plenty of time later to set them straight.
“I don't doubt the others will agree, too,” Ragan said.
“Others?” she said, blinking. “You mean there are more than the two of you? How many?”
“There are only fifteen of us altogether now. I don't think Bartu or Nengar will come.”
“Sniffing after the bloody Prophet.” Uno turned his head and spat copiously. "Only fifteen. Sar went over that bloody cliff in the mountains, and Mendao had to get himself into a flaming duel with three Hunters for the Horn, and...
Nynaeve was too busy stopping herself from gaping to listen. Fifteen! She could not help toting up in her head what it would cost to feed fifteen men. Even when they were not particularly hungry, Thom or Juilin either one ate more than Elayne and her combined. Light!