The great hunt - By Robert Jordan Page 0,273

at Galad today while he was working with the Warders,” Min said, rocking the stool on two legs.

The small balls faltered for an instant above Egwene’s hands. “She can look at whoever she wants,” Egwene said casually. “I can’t imagine why I would be interested.”

“No reason, I suppose. He is awfully handsome, if you don’t mind him being so rigid. Very nice to look at, especially with his shirt off.”

The balls spun furiously. “I certainly have no desire to look at Galad, with or without his shirt.”

“I shouldn’t tease you,” Min said contritely. “I’m sorry for that. But you do like to look at him—don’t grimace at me like that—and so does nearly every woman in the White Tower who isn’t a Red. I’ve seen Aes Sedai down at the practice yards when he’s working forms, especially Greens. Checking on their Warders, they say, but I don’t see so many when Galad isn’t there. Even the cooks and maids come out to watch him.”

The balls stopped dead, and for a moment Egwene stared at them. They vanished. Suddenly she giggled. “He is good-looking, isn’t he? Even when he walks he looks as if he’s dancing.” The color in her cheeks deepened. “I know I shouldn’t stare at him, but I can’t help myself.”

“I can’t either,” Min said, “and I can see what he is like.”

“But if he is good—?”

“Egwene, Galad is so good he’d make you tear your hair out. He’d hurt a person because he had to serve a greater good. He wouldn’t even notice who was hurt, because he’d be so intent on the other, but if he did, he would expect them to understand and think it was all well and right.”

“I suppose you know,” Egwene said. She had seen Min’s ability to look at people and read all sorts of things about them; Min did not tell everything she saw, and she did not always see anything, but there had been enough for Egwene to believe. She glanced at Nynaeve—the other woman was still pacing, muttering to herself—then reached for saidar again and resumed her juggling in a desultory fashion.

Min shrugged. “I guess I might as well tell you. He didn’t even notice what Else was doing. He asked her if she knew whether you might be walking the South Garden after supper, since today is a freeday. I felt sorry for her.”

“Poor Else,” Egwene murmured, and the balls of light became more lively above her hands. Min laughed.

The door banged open, caught by the wind. Egwene gave a yelp and let the balls vanish before she saw it was only Elayne.

The golden-haired Daughter-Heir of Andor pushed the door shut and hung up her cloak on a peg. “I just heard,” she said. “The rumors are true. King Galldrian is dead. That makes it a war of succession.”

Min snorted. “Civil war. War of succession. A lot of silly names for the same thing. Do you mind if we don’t talk about it? That’s all we hear. War in Cairhien. War on Toman Head. They may have caught the false Dragon in Saldaea, but there’s still war in Tear. Most of it is rumors, anyway. Yesterday, I heard one of the cooks saying she’d heard Artur Hawkwing was marching on Tanchico. Artur Hawkwing!”

“I thought you did not want to talk about it,” Egwene said.

“I saw Logain,” Elayne said. “He was sitting on a bench in the Inner Court, crying. He ran when he saw me. I cannot help feeling sorry for him.”

“Better he cries than the rest of us, Elayne,” Min said.

“I know what he is,” Elayne said calmly. “Or rather, what he was. He isn’t anymore, and I can feel sorry for him.”

Egwene slumped back against the wall. Rand. Logain always made her think of Rand. She had not dreamed about him in months, now, not the kind of dreams she had had on the River Queen. Anaiya still made her write down everything she dreamed, and the Aes Sedai checked them for signs, or connections to events, but there was never anything about Rand except dreams that, Anaiya said, meant she missed him. Oddly, she felt almost as if he were not there any longer, as if he had ceased to exist, along with her dreams, a few weeks after reaching the White Tower. And I sit thinking about how nicely Galad walks, she thought bitterly. Rand has to be all right. If he’d been caught and gentled, I’d have heard something.

That sent a chill