deepened. She did hate it, making trees tear themselves to splinters and the earth erupt; that was meant for battle, for killing, and she wanted no part of it. Yet anything the Seanchan let her do was another chance to touch saidar, to feel the Power flowing through her. She hated the things Renna and the other sul’dam made her do, but she was sure that she could handle much more of the Power now than she could before leaving Tar Valon. She certainly knew she could do things with it that no sister in the Tower had ever thought of doing; they never thought of tearing the earth apart to kill men.
“Perhaps you won’t have to worry about any of it much longer,” Min said, grinning. “I’ve found us a ship, Egwene. The captain has been held here by the Seanchan, and he is about ready to sail with or without permission.”
“If he will take you, Min, go with him,” Egwene said wearily. “I told you I’m valuable, now. Renna says in a few days they’re sending a ship back to Seanchan. Just to take me.”
Min’s grin vanished, and they stared at each other. Suddenly Min hurled her rock at the pile on the table, scattering them. “There has to be a way out of here. There has to be a way to take that bloody thing off your neck!”
Egwene leaned her head back against the wall. “You know the Seanchan have collected every woman they’ve been able to find who can channel even a speck. They come from all over, not just from here in Falme, but from the fishing villages, and from farming towns inland. Taraboner and Domani women, passengers off ships they’ve stopped. There are two Aes Sedai among them.”
“Aes Sedai!” Min exclaimed. By habit she looked around to make sure no Seanchan had overheard her saying that name. “Egwene, if there are Aes Sedai here, they can help us. Let me talk to them, and—”
“They can’t even help themselves, Min. I only talked to one—her name is Ryma; the sul’dam don’t call her that, but that’s her name; she wanted to make sure I knew it—and she told me there is another. She told me in between bouts of tears. She’s Aes Sedai, and she was crying, Min! She has a collar on her neck, they make her answer to Pura, and she can’t do anything more about it than I can. They captured her when Falme fell. She was crying because she’s beginning to stop fighting against it, because she cannot take being punished anymore. She was crying because she wants to take her own life, and she cannot even do that without permission. Light, I know how she feels!”
Min shifted uneasily, smoothing her dress with suddenly nervous hands. “Egwene, you don’t want to. . . . Egwene, you must not think of harming yourself. I will get you out somehow. I will!”
“I am not going to kill myself,” Egwene said dryly. “Even if I could. Let me have your knife. Come on. I won’t hurt myself. Just hand it to me.”
Min hesitated before slowly taking her knife from its sheath at her waist. She held it out warily, obviously ready to leap if Egwene tried anything.
Egwene took a deep breath and reached for the hilt. A soft quiver ran through the muscles of her arm. As her hand came within a foot of the knife, a cramp suddenly contorted her fingers. Eyes fixed, she tried to force her hand closer. The cramp seized her whole arm, knotting muscles to her shoulder. With a groan, she sank back, rubbing her arm and concentrating her thoughts on not touching the knife. Slowly, the pain began to lessen.
Min stared at her incredulously. “What . . . ? I don’t understand.”
“Damane are not allowed to touch a weapon of any kind.” She worked her arm, feeling the tightness go. “Even our meat is cut for us. I don’t want to hurt myself, but I could not if I did want to. No damane is ever left alone where she might jump from a height—that window is nailed shut—or throw herself in a river.”
“Well, that’s a good thing. I mean. . . . Oh, I don’t know what I mean. If you could jump in a river, you might escape.”
Egwene went on dully, as if the other woman had not spoken. “They are training me, Min. The sul’dam and the a’dam are training me. I cannot touch anything