The great hunt - By Robert Jordan Page 0,274

through her, as it never failed to do, the thought of Rand being gentled, Rand weeping and wanting to die as Logain did.

Elayne sat down beside her on the bed, tucking her feet up under her. “If you are mooning over Galad, Egwene, you will have no sympathy from me. I’ll have Nynaeve dose you with one of those horrible concoctions she’s always talking about.” She frowned at Nynaeve, who had taken no notice of her entrance. “What is the matter with her? Don’t tell me she has started sighing after Galad, too!”

“I wouldn’t bother her.” Min leaned toward the two of them and lowered her voice. “That skinny Accepted Irella told her she was as clumsy as a cow and had half the Talents, and Nynaeve clouted her ear.” Elayne winced. “Exactly,” Min murmured. “They had her up to Sheriam’s study before you could blink, and she hasn’t been fit to live with since.”

Apparently Min had not dropped her voice enough, for there was a growl from Nynaeve. Suddenly the door whipped open once more, and a gale howled into the room. It did not ruffle the blankets on Egwene’s bed, but Min and the stool toppled, to roll against the wall. Immediately the wind died, and Nynaeve stood with a stricken look on her face.

Egwene hurried to the door and peeked out. The noonday sun was burning off the last reminders of last night’s rainstorm. The still-damp balcony around the Novices’ Court was empty, the long row of doors to novices’ rooms all shut. The novices who had taken advantage of the freeday to enjoy themselves in the gardens were no doubt catching up on their sleep. No one could have seen. She closed the door and took her place beside Elayne again as Nynaeve helped Min to her feet.

“I’m sorry, Min,” Nynaeve said in a tight voice. “Sometimes my temper. . . . I can’t ask you to forgive me, not for this.” She took a deep breath. “If you want to report me to Sheriam, I will understand. I deserve it.”

Egwene wished she had not heard that admission; Nynaeve could grow prickly over such things. Searching for something on which to focus, something Nynaeve could believe she had had her attention on, she found herself touching saidar once more, and began juggling the balls of light again. Elayne quickly joined her; Egwene saw the glow form around the Daughter-Heir even before three tiny balls appeared above her hands. They began to pass the little glowing spheres back and forth in increasingly intricate patterns. Sometimes one winked out as one girl or the other failed to maintain it as it came to her, then winked back a little altered in color or size.

The One Power filled Egwene with life. She smelled the faint rose aroma of soap from Elayne’s morning bath. She could feel the rough plaster of the walls, the smooth stones of the floor, as well as she could the bed where she sat. She could hear Min and Nynaeve breathe, much less their quiet words.

“If it comes to forgiving,” Min said, “maybe you should forgive me. You have a temper, and I have a big mouth. I will forgive you if you forgive me.” With murmurs of “forgiven” that sounded meant on both sides, the two women hugged. “But if you do it again,” Min said with a laugh, “I might clout your ear.”

“Next time,” Nynaeve replied, “I will throw something at you.” She was laughing, too, but her laughter ceased abruptly as her eye fell on Egwene and Elayne. “You two stop that, or there will be someone going to the Mistress of Novices. Two someones.”

“Nynaeve, you wouldn’t!” Egwene protested. When she saw the look in Nynaeve’s eyes, though, she hastily severed all contact with saidar. “Very well. I believe you. There’s no need to prove it.”

“We have to practice,” Elayne said. “They ask more and more of us. If we did not practice on our own, we would never keep up.” Her face showed calm composure, but she had let go of saidar as hastily as Egwene herself had.

“And what happens when you draw too much,” Nynaeve asked, “and there’s no one there to stop you? I wish you were more afraid. I am. Don’t you think I know what it is like for you? It’s always there, and you want to fill yourself with it. Sometimes it is all I can do to make myself stop; I want all of it.