The great hunt - By Robert Jordan Page 0,290

not for the attention of one of the Blood.”

Egwene bit her lip until she tasted blood. This is a nightmare. It can’t be real. Why did Liandrin do this? Why is this happening? “May . . . may I ask a question?”

“Of me, you may.” Renna smiled. “Many sul’dam will wear your bracelet over the years—there are always many more sul’dam than damane—and some would have your hide in strips if you took your eyes off the floor or opened your mouth without permission, but I see no reason not to let you speak, so long as you are careful in what you say.” One of the other sul’dam snorted loudly; she was linked to a pretty, dark-haired woman in her middle years who kept her eyes on her hands.

“Liandrin”—Egwene would not give her the honorific, not ever again—“and the High Lady spoke of a master they both serve.” The thought came into her head of a man with almost healed burns marring his face, and eyes and mouth that sometimes turned to fire, but even if he was only a figure in her dreams that seemed too horrible to contemplate. “Who is he? What does he want with me and—and Min?” She knew it was silly to avoid naming Nynaeve—she did not think any of these people would forget her just because her name was not mentioned, especially the blue-eyed sul’dam stroking her empty leash—but it was the only way she could think of fighting back at the moment.

“The affairs of the Blood,” Renna said, “are not for me to take notice of, and certainly not for you. The High Lady will tell me what she wishes me to know, and I will tell you what I wish you to know. Anything else that you hear or see must be to you as if it never was said, as if it never happened. This way lies safety, most especially for a damane. Damane are too valuable to be killed out of hand, but you might find yourself not only soundly punished, but absent a tongue to speak or hands to write. Damane can do what they must without these things.”

Egwene shivered, though the air was not very cold. Pulling her cloak up onto her shoulders, her hand brushed the leash, and she jerked at it fitfully. “This is a horrible thing. How can you do this to anyone? What diseased mind ever thought of it?”

The blue-eyed sul’dam with the empty leash growled, “This one could do without her tongue already, Renna.”

Renna only smiled patiently. “How is it horrible? Could we allow anyone to run loose who can do what a damane can? Sometimes men are born who would be marath’damane if they were women—it is so here also, I have heard—and they must be killed, of course, but the women do not go mad. Better for them to become damane than make trouble contending for power. As for the mind that first thought of the a’dam, it was the mind of a woman who called herself Aes Sedai.”

Egwene knew incredulity must be painting her face, because Renna laughed openly. “When Luthair Paendrag Mondwin, son of the Hawkwing, first faced the Armies of the Night, he found many among them who called themselves Aes Sedai. They contended for power among themselves and used the One Power on the field of battle. One such, a woman named Deain, who thought she could do better serving the Emperor—he was not Emperor then, of course—since he had no Aes Sedai in his armies, came to him with a device she had made, the first a’dam, fastened to the neck of one of her sisters. Though that woman did not want to serve Luthair, the a’dam required her to serve. Deain made more a’dam, the first sul’dam were found, and women captured who called themselves Aes Sedai discovered that they were in fact only marath’damane, Those Who Must Be Leashed. It is said that when she herself was leashed, Deain’s screams shook the Towers of Midnight, but of course she, too, was a marath’damane, and marath’damane cannot be allowed to run free. Perhaps you will be one of those who has the ability to make a’dam. If so, you will be pampered, you may rest assured.”

Egwene looked yearningly at the countryside through which they rode. The land was beginning to rise in low hills, and the thin forest had dwindled to scattered thickets, but she was sure she could lose herself in them. “Am