rj.acrownofswords-第93部分

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　　　Mat　Cauthon；　his　name　boiled　in　her　head。　Nynaeve　stumbled　over　her　own　feet　and　let　go　of　her　braid　to　lift　her　skirts。　The　alley　was　hardly　as　smooth　as　a　paved　square　much　less　a　palace　floor。　At　times；　Elayne　in　a　taking　was　better　than　Elayne　thinking　clearly。　〃Remarkable；〃　she　muttered。　〃I'll　'remarkable'　her　till　her　eyes　cross。　No　one　has　ever　treated　us　this　way；　Elayne；　not　even　people　who　doubted；　not　even　the　Sea　Folk。　Most　people　would　step　wary　if　a　ten…year…old　said　she　was　Aes　Sedai。〃
　　　〃Most　people　don't　really　know　what　an　Aes　Sedai's　face　looks　like；　Nynaeve。　I　think　she　went　to　the　Tower　once；　she　knows　things　she　couldn't；　otherwise。〃
　　　Nynaeve　snorted；　glowering　at　the　back　of　the　woman　striding　ahead。　Setalle　Anan　might　have　been　to　the　Tower　ten　times；　a　hundred；　but　she　was　going　to　acknowledge　Nynaeve　al'Meara　as　Aes　Sedai。　And　apologize。　And　learn　what　it　was　like　to　be　hauled　about　by　her　ear；　too！　Mistress　Anan　glanced　back；　and　Nynaeve　flashed　her　a　rigid　smile；　nodded　as　if　her　neck　。was　a　hinge。　〃Elayne？　If　these　women　do　know　where　the　Bowl　is。。。　We　don't　have　to　tell　Mat　how　we　found　it〃　That　was　not　quite　a　question。
　　　〃I　do　not　see　why；〃　Elayne　replied；　then　dashed　all　her　hopes　by　adding；　〃But　I'll　have　to　ask　Aviendha　to　be　sure。〃
　　　If　she　had　not　thought　the　Anan　woman　might　abandon　them　on　the　spot；　Nynaeve　would　have　screamed。
　　　The　wandering　alley　gave　way　to　a　street；　and　there　was　no　talking　then　to　amount　to　anything。　The　sun's　thin　rim　glared　blindingly　above　the　rooftops　ahead；　Elayne　shaded　her　eyes　with　one　hand　very　ostentatiously。　Nynaeve　refused　to。　It　was　not　that　bad。　She　barely　had　to　squint　at　all；　really。　A　clear　blue　sky　mocked　her　weather　sense；　that　still　told　her　a　storm　was　right　on　top　of　the　city。
　　　Even　this　early　a　few　brightly　lacquered　coaches　were　about　in　the　winding　streets；　and　a　double　fistful　of　brighter　sedan　chairs；　two　or　sometimes　four　barefoot　bearers　in　green…and…red　striped　vests　to　each；　trotting　because　they　carried　passengers　hidden　behind　the　grilled　wooden　screens。　Carts　and　wagons　rumbled　over　the　paving　stones；　and　people　began　to　fill　the　streets　as　shop　doors　opened　and　awnings　went　up；　vested　apprentices　hurrying　on　errands　and　men　with　great　rolled　carpets　balanced　on　their　shoulders；　tumblers　and　jugglers　and　musicians　readying　themselves　at　likely　corners　and　hawkers　with　their　trays　of　pins　or　ribbons　or　shabby　fruit。　The　open…sided　fish…and　meat…markets　had　long　since　been　in　full　cry；　all　the　fishmongers　were　women；　and　most　of　the　butchers；　too；　except　those　dealing　in　beef。
　　　Dodging　through　the　crowds；　past　the　coaches　and　sedan　chairs　and　wagons　that　seemed　to　think　they　had　no　reason　to　slow；　Mistress　Anan　set　a　fast　pace　to　make　up　for　interruptions。　There　were　plenty　of　those。　She　seemed　to　be　a　well…known　woman；　hailed　by　shopkeepers　and　craftsmen　and　other　innkeepers　standing　in　their　doorways。　The　shopkeepers　and　craftsmen　received　a　few　words；　a　pleasant　nod；　but　she　always　stopped　to　chat　a　moment　with　the　innkeepers。　After　the　first；　Nynaeve　wished　fervently　that　she　would　not　again；　after　the　second；　she　prayed　for　it。　After　the　third　she　stared　straight　ahead　and　tried　in　vain　not　to　hear。　Elayne's　face　grew　tighter　and　tighter；　colder　and　colder；　her　chin　rose　till　it　was　a　wonder　she　could　see　to　walk。
　　　There　was　a　reason；　Nynaeve　had　to　admit　grudgingly。　In　Ebou　Dar；　someone　wearing　silk　might　stroll　the　length　of　a　square；　maybe；　but　no　further。　Everybody　else　in　sight　wore　wool　or　linen；　seldom　with　much　embroidery；　except　for　an　occasional　beggar　who　had　acquired　a　cast…off　silk　garment；　frayed　on　every　edge　and　more　hole　than　cloth。　She　just　wished　Mistress　Anan　had　chosen　some　other　explanation　for　why　she　was　leading　the　pair　of　them　through　the　streets。　She　wished　she　did　not　have　to　listen　one　more　time　to　a　tale　of　two　flighty　girls　who　had　spent　all　their　money　on　fine　clothes　to　impress　a　man。　Mat　came　out　of　it　well；　burn　him。　A　fine　young　fellow；　if　Mistress　Anan　had　not　been　married；　a　beautiful　dancer　with　just　a　touch　of　the　rogue。　All　of　the　women　laughed。　Not　her　or　Elayne；　though。　Not　the　brainless　little　honeykissers　…　that　was　the　word　she　used；　Nynaeve　could　guess　what　it　meant！　…　Honeykissers；　penniless　from　chasing　after　a　man　and　their　purses　full　of　brass　bits　and　tin　to　fool　fools；　witless　loobies　who　would　have　been　reduced　to　beggary　or　theft　had　Mistress　Anan　not　known　someone　who　might　give　them　work　in　the　kitchen。
　　　〃She　doesn't　have　to　stop　at　every　inn　in　the　city；〃　Nynaeve　growled　as　she　stalked　away　from　The　Stranded　Goose；　three　broad　stories　with　an　innkeeper　who　wore　large　garnets　at　her　ears　despite　the　humble　name。　Mistress　Anan　hardly　even　glanced　back　to　see　they　followed；　now。　〃Do　you　realize　we'll　never　be　able　to　show　our　own　faces　in　any　of　those　places！〃
　　　〃I　suspect　that　is　exactly　the　point。〃　Every　word　out　of　Elayne's　mouth　was　chipped　from　ice。　〃Nynaeve；　if　you've　sent　us　running　after　a　wild　pig。。。　〃　There　was　no　need　to　plete　the　threat。　With　Birgitte　and　Aviendha　to　help；　and　they　would；　Elayne　could　make　her　life　miserable　until　she　was　satisfied。
　　　〃They　will　take　us　right　to　the　Bowl；〃　she　insisted；　flapping　her　hands　to　shoo　a　beggar　with　a　horrible　purple　scar　that　obliterated　one　eye；　she　could　recognize　flour　paste　dyed　with　bluewort　when　she　saw　it。　〃I　know　they　will。〃　Elayne　sniffed　in　an　offensively　expressive　manner。
　　　Nynaeve　lost　count　of　the　number　of　bridges　they　crossed；　large　and　small；　with　barges　poling　beneath。　The　sun　climbed　its　own　height　above　the　rooftops；　then　twice。　The　Anan　woman　did　not　follow　even　so　straight　a　line　as　she　might　have　…　she　really　did　seem　to　be　going　out　of　her　way　to　find　inns　…　but　they　continued　generally　east；　and　Nynaeve　thought　they　must　be　nearing　the　river　when　the　hazel…eyed　woman　suddenly　rounded　on　them。
　　　〃You　watch　your　tongues；　now。　Speak　when　you're　spoken　to　and　not　else。　You　embarrass　me；　and。。。　〃　With　a　final　frown　and　a　mutter　half　under　her　breath　that　she　was　probably　making　a　mistake；　she　jerked　her　head　for　them　to　follow　again；　to　a　flat…roofed　house　right　opposite。
　　　It　was　not　a　large　house；　two　stories　without　one　balcony；　cracked　plaster　and　brick　showing　in　several　places；　and　hardly　in　an　agreeable　location；　with　the　loud　rattling　of　a　weaver's　looms　to　one　side　and　the　acrid　stinks　of　a　dyer's　shop　to　the　other。　A　maid　answered　the　door；　though；　a　graying　woman　with　a　square　jaw；　shoulders　like　a　blacksmith；　and　a　steely　eye　unsoftened　by　the　sweat　on　her　face。　As　Nynaeve　followed　Mistress　Anan　in；　she　smiled。　Somewhere　in　that　house；　a　woman　was　channeling。
　　　The　square…jawed　maid　obviously　knew　Setalle　Anan　on　sight；　but　her　reaction　was　odd。　She　curtsied　with　a　very　real　respect；　yet　she　was　plainly　surprised　to　see　her；　and　obviously　doubtful　about　her　being　there。　She　almost　fluttered　before　letting　them　in。　Nynaeve　and　Elayne　were　greeted　with　no　ambivalence；　though。　They　were　shown　to　a　sitting　room　one　flight　up；　and　the　maid　told　them　firmly；
　　　〃Don't　stir　a　toe　and　don't　touch　anything；　or　you'll　catch　the　old　what…for；〃　then　vanished。
　　　Nynaeve　looked　at　Elayne。
　　　〃Nynaeve；　one　woman　channeling　doesn't　mean　…　〃　The　feel　changed；　swelling　for　a　moment；　then　subsiding；　lower　than　before。　〃Even　two　women　doesn't　mean　anything；〃　Elayne　protested；　but　she　sounded　doubtful。　〃That　was　the　most　ill…mannered　maid　I've　ever　seen。〃　She　took　a　tall…backed　red　chair；　and　after　a　moment　Nynaeve　sat　too；　but　she　perched　on　the　edge。　From　eagerness；　not　nerves。　Not　nerves　at　all。
　　　The　room　was　not　grand；　but　the　blue…and…white　floor　tiles　glistened；　and　the　pale　green　walls　looked　freshly　painted。　No　trace　of　gilt　showed　anywhere；　of　course；　yet　fine　carving　covered　the　red　chairs　arrayed　along　the　walls　and　several　small　tables　of　a　darker　blue　than　the　tiles。　The　lamps　hanging　from　sconces　were　clearly　brass；　polished　till　they　shone。　Carefully　arranged　evergreen　branches　filled　the　swept　hearth；　and　the　lintel　above　the　fireplace　was　carved；　not　plain　stonework。　The　carving　seemed　an　odd　choice　…　what　people　around　Ebou　Dar　called　the　Thirteen　Sins；　a　man　with　eyes　that　nearly　filled　his　whole　face　for　Envy；　a　fellow　with　his　tongue　hanging　to　his　ankles　for　Gossip；　a　snarling；　sharp…toothed　man　clutching　coins　to　his　chest　for　Greed；　and　so　on　…　but　all　in　all；　it　satisfied　her　very　much。　Whoever　could　afford　that　room　could　afford　fresh　plaster　outside；　and　the　only　reason　not　to　put　it　up　was　to　keep　low；　avoiding　notice。
　　　The　maid　had　left　the　door　open；　and　suddenly　voices　ing　up　the　hall　drifted　through。
　　　〃I　cannot　believe　you　brought　them　here。〃　The　speaker's　tone　was　tight　with　incredulity　and　anger。　〃You　know　how　careful　we　are；　Setalle。　You　know　more　than　you　should；　and　you　surely　know　that。〃
　　　〃I　am　very　sorry；　Reanne；〃　Mistress　Anan　answered　stiffly。　〃I　suppose　I　didn't　think。　I。。。　submit　myself；　both　to　stand　surety　for　these　girls'　behavior　and　to　your　judgment。〃
　　　〃Of　course　not！〃　Reanne's　tone　was　high　with　shock；　now。　〃That　is　to　say。。。　I　mean；　you　shouldn't　have；　but。。。　Setalle；　I　apologize　for　raising　my　voice。　Say　you　forgive　me。〃
　　　〃You　have　no　reason　to　apologize；　Reanne。〃　The　innkeeper　managed　to　sound　rueful　and　reluctant　at　the　same　time。　〃I　did　wrong　to　bring　them。〃
　　　〃No；　no；　Setalle。　I　shouldn't　have　spoken　to　you　so。　Please；　you　must　forgive　me。　Please　do。〃
　　　The　Anan　woman　and　Reanne　Corly　entered　the　sitting　room；　and　Nynaeve　blinked　in　surprise。　From　the　exchange；　she　had　expected　someone　younger　than　Setalle　Anan；　but　Reanne　had　hair　more　gray　than　not　and　a　face　full　of　what　might　have　been　smile　lines；　though　they　were　creased　in　worry　now。　Why　would　the　older　woman　humble　herself　so　to　the　younger；　and　why　would　the　younger　allow　it；　however　halfheartedly？　Customs　were　different　here；　the　Light　knew；　some　more　different　than　she　liked　to　think　about；　yet　not　this　much；　surely。　Of　course；　she　had　never　gone　very　far　toward　being　humble　with　the　Women's　Circle　back　home；　but　this。。。
　　　Of　course；　Reanne　could　channel　…　she　h