rj.thepathofdaggers-第3部分

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s　eyes　darted　from　her　uncle　to　Ethenielle；　her　tiny　smile　quite　satisfied。
　　　　　　　Outrage　flared　in　Ethenielle。　That　smile　made　it　all　clear　as　spring　water；　if　Kalyan's　eyes　had　not。　This　chit　of　a　girl　thought　to　marry　off　this　fellow　to　her？　This　child　presumed　to。。。？　Suddenly；　ruefulness　replaced　fury。　She　herself　had　been　younger　when　she　arranged　her　widowed　sister　Nazelle's　wedding。　A　matter　of　state；　yet　Nazelle　had　e　to　love　Lord　Ismic　despite　all　her　protests　in　the　beginning。　Ethenielle　had　been　arranging　others'　marriages　for　so　long　that　she　had　never　considered　that　her　own　would　make　a　very　strong　tie。　She　looked　at　Kalyan　again；　a　longer　look。　His　leathery　face　was　all　proper　respect　once　more；　yet　she　saw　his　eyes　as　they　had　been。　Any　consort　she　chose　would　have　to　be　a　hard　man；　but　she　had　always　demanded　a　chance　of　love　for　her　children's　marriages；　if　not　her　siblings'；　and　she　would　do　no　less　for　herself。
　　　　　　　〃Instead　of　wasting　daylight　on　chatter；〃　she　said；　more　breathless　than　she　could　have　wished；　〃let　us　do　what　we　came　for。〃　The　Light　sear　her　soul；　she　was　a　woman　grown；　not　a　girl　meeting　a　prospective　suitor　for　the　first　time。　〃Well？〃　she　demanded。　This　time；　her　tone　was　suitably　firm。
　　　　　　　All　of　their　agreements　had　been　made　in　those　careful　letters；　and　all　of　their　plans　would　have　to　be　modified　as　they　moved　south　and　circumstances　changed。　This　meeting　had　only　one　real　purpose；　a　simple　and　ancient　ceremony　of　the　Borderlands　that　had　been　recorded　only　seven　times　in　all　the　years　since　the　Breaking。　A　simple　ceremony　that　would　mit　them　beyond　anything　words　could　do；　however　strong。　The　rulers　moved　their　horses　closer　while　the　others　drew　back。
　　　　　　　Ethenielle　hissed　as　her　belt　knife　slashed　across　her　left　palm。　Tenobia　laughed　at　cutting　hers。　Paitar　and　Easar　might　as　well　have　been　plucking　splinters。　Four　hands　reached　out　and　met；　gripped；　heart's　blood　mingling；　dripping　to　the　ground；　soaking　into　the　stony　dirt。　〃We　are　one；　to　the　death；〃　Easar　said；　and　they　all　spoke　with　him。　〃We　are　one；　to　the　death。〃　By　blood　and　soil；　they　were　mitted。　Now　they　had　to　find　Rand　al'Thor。　And　do　what　needed　to　be　done。　Whatever　the　price。
　　　　　　　
　　　　　　　Once　she　was　sure　that　Turanna　could　sit　up　on　the　cushion　unaided；　Verin　rose　and　left　the　slumped　White　sister　sipping　water。　Trying　to　sip；　anyway。　Turanna's　teeth　chattered　on　the　silver　cup；　which　was　no　surprise。　The　tent's　entryway　stood　low　enough　that　Verin　had　to　duck　in　order　to　put　her　head　out。　Weariness　augered　into　her　back　when　she　bent。　She　had　no　fear　of　the　woman　shivering　behind　her　in　a　coarse　black　woolen　robe。　Verin　held　the　shield　on　her　tight；　and　she　doubted　Turanna　possessed　enough　strength　in　her　legs　at　the　moment　to　contemplate　leaping　on　her　from　behind；　even　if　such　an　incredible　thought　occurred　to　her。　Whites　just　did　not　think　that　way。　For　that　matter；　in　Turanna's　condition；　it　was　doubtful　she　would　be　able　to　channel　a　hair　for　several　hours　yet；　even　if　she　were　not　shielded。
　　　　　　　The　Aiel　camp　covered　the　hills　that　hid　Cairhien；　low　earth…colored　tents　filling　the　space　between　the　few　trees　left　standing　this　close　to　the　city。　Faint　clouds　of　dust　hung　in　the　air；　but　neither　dust　nor　heat　nor　the　glare　of　an　angry　sun　bothered　the　Aiel　at　all。　Bustle　and　purpose　filled　the　camp　to　equal　any　city。　Within　her　sight　were　men　butchering　game　and　patching　tents；　sharpening　knives　and　making　the　soft　boots　they　all　wore；　women　cooking　over　open　fires；　baking；　working　small　looms；　looking　after　some　of　the　few　children　in　the　camp。　Everywhere　white…robed　gai'shain　darted　about　carrying　burdens；　or　stood　beating　rugs；　or　tended　packhorses　and　mules。　No　hawkers　or　shopkeepers。　Or　carts　and　carriages；　of　course。　A　city？　It　was　more　like　a　thousand　villages　gathered　in　one　spot；　though　men　greatly　outnumbered　women　and；　except　for　the　blacksmiths　making　their　anvils　ring；　nearly　every　man　not　in　white　carried　weapons。　Most　of　the　women　did；　as　well。
　　　　　　　The　numbers　certainly　equaled　one　of　the　great　cities'；　more　than　enough　to　envelope　a　few　Aes　Sedai　prisoners　pletely；　yet　Verin　saw　a　black…robed　woman　plodding　away　not　fifty　paces　off；　struggling　to　pull　a　waist…high　pile　of　rocks　behind　her　on　a　cowhide。　The　deep　cowl　hid　her　face；　but　no　one　in　the　camp　except　the　captive　sisters　wore　those　black　robes。　A　Wise　One　strolled　along　close　to　the　hide；　glowing　with　the　Power　as　she　shielded　the　prisoner；　while　a　pair　of　Maidens　flanked　the　sister；　using　switches　to　urge　her　on　whenever　she　faltered。　Verin　wondered　whether　she　had　been　meant　to　see。　That　very　morning　she　had　passed　a　wild…eyed　Coiren　Saeldain；　sweat　streaming　down　her　face；　with　a　Wise　One　and　two　tall　Aielmen　for　escort　and　a　large　basket　heaped　with　sand　bending　her　back　as　she　staggered　up　a　slope。　Yesterday　it　had　been　Sarene　Nemdahl。　They　had　set　her　moving　handfuls　of　water　from　one　hide　bucket　to　another　beside　it；　switched　her　to　move　faster；　then　switched　her　for　every　drop　spilled　when　the　water　spilled　because　they　were　switching　her　to　move　faster。　Sarene　had　stolen　a　moment　to　ask　Verin　why；　though　not　as　if　she　expected　any　answer。　Verin　certainly　had　not　been　able　to　supply　one　before　the　Maidens　drove　Sarene　back　to　her　useless　labor。
　　　　　　　She　suppressed　a　sigh。　For　one　thing；　she　could　not　truly　like　seeing　sisters　treated　so；　whatever　the　reasons　or　need；　and　for　another；　it　was　obvious　that　a　fair　number　of　the　Wise　Ones　wanted。。。　What？　For　her　to　know　that　being　Aes　Sedai　counted　for　nothing　here？　Ridiculous。　That　had　been　made　abundantly　clear　days　ago。　Perhaps　that　she　could　be　put　into　a　black　robe；　too？　For　the　time　she　thought　she　was　safe　from　that；　at　least；　but　the　Wise　Ones　hid　a　number　of　secrets　she　had　yet　to　puzzle　out；　the　smallest　of　them　how　their　hierarchy　worked。　Very　much　the　smallest；　yet　life　and　a　whole　skin　lay　wrapped　inside　that　one。　Women　who　gave　mands　sometimes　took　them　from　the　very　women　they　had　been　manding　earlier；　and　then　later　it　was　turned　about　again；　all　without　rhyme　or　reason　that　she　could　see。　No　one　ever　ordered　Sorilea；　though；　and　in　that　might　lie　safety。　Of　a　sort。
　　　　　　　She　could　not　help　a　surge　of　satisfaction。　Early　this　morning　in　the　Sun　Palace；　Sorilea　had　demanded　to　know　what　shamed　wetlanders　most。　Kiruna　and　the　other　sisters　did　not　understand；　they　made　no　real　efforts　to　see　what　was　happening　out　here；　perhaps　fearing　what　they　might　learn；　fearing　the　strains　knowledge　might　put　on　their　oaths。　They　still　struggled　to　justify　taking　the　path　fate　had　pushed　them　down；　but　Verin　already　had　reasons　for　the　path　she　followed；　and　purpose。　She　also　had　a　list　in　her　pouch；　ready　to　hand　to　Sorilea　when　they　were　alone。　No　need　to　let　the　others　know。　Some　of　the　captives　she　had　never　met；　but　she　thought　that　for　most　women；　that　list　summed　up　the　weaknesses　Sorilea　was　seeking。　Life　was　going　to　grow　much　more　difficult　for　the　women　in　black。　And　her　own　efforts　would　be　aided　no　end；　with　luck。
　　　　　　　Two　great　hulking　Aielmen；　each　an　axe　handle　wide　across　the　shoulders；　sat　right　outside　the　tent；　seemingly　absorbed　in　a　game　of　cat's　cradle；　but　they　had　looked　around　immediately　when　her　head　appeared　through　the　tentflaps。　Coram　had　risen　like　a　serpent　uncoiling　for　all　of　his　size；　and　Mendan　waited　only　to　tuck　the　string　away。　Had　she　been　standing　straight；　her　head　barely　would　have　reached　the　chest　of　either。　She　could　have　turned　them　both　upside　down　and　paddled　them；　of　course。　Had　she　dared。　She　had　been　tempted　from　time　to　time。　They　were　her　assigned　guides；　her　protection　against　misunderstandings　in　the　camp。　And　doubtless　they　reported　everything　she　said　or　did。　In　some　ways　she　would　have　preferred　to　have　Tomas　with　her；　but　only　some。　Keeping　secrets　from　your　Warder　was　far　more　difficult　than　keeping　them　from　strangers。
　　　　　　　〃Please　tell　Colinda　that　I'm　done　with　Turanna　Norill；〃　she　told　Coram；　〃and　ask　her　to　send　Katerine　Alruddin　to　me。〃　She　wanted　to　deal　first　with　the　sisters　who　had　no　Warders。　He　nodded　once　before　trotting　off　without　speaking。　These　Aielmen　were　not　much　for　civility。
　　　　　　　Mendan　settled　into　a　crouch；　watching　her　with　startlingly　blue　eyes。　One　of　them　stayed　with　her　no　matter　what　she　said。　A　strip　of　red　cloth　was　tied　around　Mendan's　temples　and　marked　with　the　ancient　symbol　of　Aes　Sedai。　Like　the　other　men　who　wore　that；　like　the　Maidens；　he　seemed　to　be　waiting　for　her　to　make　a　mistake。　Well；　they　were　not　the　first；　and　a　great　way　from　the　most　dangerous。　Seventy…one　years　had　passed　since　she　had　last　made　a　serious　mistake。
　　　　　　　She　gave　Mendan　a　deliberately　vague　smile　and　started　to　pull　back　into　the　tent；　when　suddenly　something　caught　her　eye　and　held　her　like　a　vise。　If　the　Aielman　had　tried　to　cut　her　throat　right　then；　she　might　not　have　noticed。
　　　　　　　Not　far　from　where　she　stood　stooped　over　in　the　mouth　of　the　tent；　nine　or　ten　women　knelt　in　a　row；　rolling　the　grindstones　on　flat　stone　handmills　much　like　those　on　any　isolated　farms。　Other　women　brought　grain　in　baskets　and　took　away　the　coarse　flour。　The　nine　or　ten　women　knelt　in　dark　skirts　and　pale　blouses；　folded　scarves　holding　their　hair　back。　One；　noticeably　shorter　than　the　rest；　the　only　one　with　hair　that　did　not　hang　to　her　waist　or　below；　wore　not　even　a　single　necklace　or　bracelet。　She　glanced　up；　the　resentment　on　her　sun…pinkened　face　sharpening　as　she　met　Venn's　gaze。　Only　for　an　instant；　though；　before　she　cringed　hurriedly　to　her　task。
　　　　　　　Verin　jerked　back　into　the　tent；　her　stomach　roiling　queasily。　Irgain　was　Green　Ajah。　Or　rather；　had　been　Green；　before　Rand　al'Thor　stilled　her。　Being　shielded　dulled　and　fuzzed　the　bond　to　your　Warder；　but　being　stilled　snapped　it　as　surely　as　death。　One　of　Irgain's　two　apparently　had　fallen　over　dead　from　the　shock；　and　the　other　had　died　trying　to　kill　thousands　of　Aiel　without　making　any　effort　to　escape。　Very　likely　Irgain　wished　she　also　were　dead。　Stilled。　Verin　pressed　both　hands　to　her　middle。　She　would　not　sick　up。　She　had　seen　worse　than　a　stilled　woman。　Much　worse。
　　　　　　　〃There's　no　hope；　is　there？〃　Turanna　mutte