Lord of Chaos (The Wheel of Time #6)

Lord of Chaos (The Wheel of Time #6) Page 116

Suddenly Nicola spoke, sounding half-asleep. “The lion sword, the dedicated spear, she who sees beyond. Three on the boat, and he who is dead yet lives. The great battle done, but the world not done with battle. The land divided by the return, and the guardians balance the servants. The future teeters on the edge of a blade.”

Anaiya stared at her. “What was that, child?”

Nicola blinked. “Did I say something, Aes Sedai?” she asked weakly. “I feel . . . peculiar.”

“Well, if you’re going to be sick,” Anaiya said briskly, “get it over with. Linking takes some women funny the first time. We have no time to coddle your stomach.” As if to prove it, she gathered her skirts and started down the street. “Stay close, now, all of you. And sing out if you see something that needs dealing with.”

That was hardly a problem. People milled about in the streets, crying out to know what was happening or just crying out, and things moved. Doors slammed and windows banged open with no one touching them. Crashes and splinterings came from inside the houses. Pots, tools, stones, anything loose, might leap or dart at any moment. A stout cook in her shift snagged a hurtling bucket out of the air with a nearly hysterical laugh, but when a pale lean fellow in his smallclothes tried to knock away a stick of firewood, the result was the crack of his arm breaking. Ropes writhed their way about legs and arms, and even people’s clothes began to crawl. They found a hairy man with his shirt wrapped around his head, flailing about so hard he kept at bay those who were trying to peel it away before it smothered him. A woman who had managed to pull on a dress if not fasten it up clung to the thatch on the edge of a roof, shrieking at the top of her lungs as the dress tried to haul her across the house, or maybe into the sky.

Dealing with these things proved no more problem than finding them. The flows of Power Anaiya wielded through the link—and those from other circles—would have had no trouble stopping a herd of charging bulls, much less a kettle that took it in mind to fly. And once a thing was stopped, whether by the Power or by hand, it seldom stirred again. There were just so many of them. There was not even time to stop for Healing unless a life was in danger; bruises, bleeding and broken bones had to wait while another fenceboard was slapped to the ground, hopefully before it split a head; another barrel halted in its wild rolling, before it broke a leg.

A sense of frustration grew in Nynaeve. So many things to quell; all small, but a man with his skull cracked by a frying pan or a woman strangled by her own shift was as dead as someone struck down by the Power. It was not just her frustration; she thought it came from every woman in the circle, even the Aes Sedai. But all she could do was march along with the others, watch Anaiya weave the combination of their flows to battle a thousand small dangers. Nynaeve lost herself in being a conduit, in being one with a dozen other women.

Finally Anaiya halted, frowning. The link dissolving caught Nynaeve by surprise. For a moment she sagged where she stood, staring uncomprehendingly. Moans and weeping had replaced screams and shouts; the palely lit street was still except for people trying to help the injured. By the moon, less than an hour had passed, but it seemed to Nynaeve like ten. Her back ached where the stool had hit her, her knees wobbled, her eyes felt scrubbed. She yawned so hard she thought her ears would pop.

“Not at all what I expected from one of the Forsaken,” Anaiya muttered only half under her breath. She sounded tired too, but she launched right into the next thing to be done, catching Nicola by the shoulder. “You can hardly stand. Bed for you. Off you go, child. I want to speak to you first thing in the morning, before breakfast. Angla, you stay; you can link again and lend a little strength for the Healing. Lanita, bed.”

“It wasn’t the Forsaken,” Nynaeve said. Mumbled, really. Light, she was tired. “It was a bubble of evil.” The three Aes Sedai stared at her. For that matter, so did the rest of the Accepted, except for Elayne, and the novices too. Even Nicola, who had not yet gone. For once, Nynaeve did not care how much the woman weighed her with her eyes; she was too sleepy to care.

“We saw one in Tear,” Elayne said, “in the Stone.” Only the aftermath, really, but that was closer than either of them had ever hoped to be again. “If Sammael attacked us, he wouldn’t toss sticks about.” Ashmanaille exchanged unreadable glances with Bharatine, a Green who managed to make rail-thin look gracefully slender and a long nose look elegant.

Anaiya never flickered an eyelid. “You seem to have plenty of energy left, Elayne. You can help with the Healing, too. And you, Nynaeve. . . . You’ve lost it again, haven’t you? Well, you look as if you ought to be carried to bed, but you will have to find your own way. Shimoku, stand up and go to bed, child. Calindin, you come with me.”

“Anaiya Sedai,” Nynaeve said carefully, “Elayne and I found something tonight. If we could speak to you alo—”

“Tomorrow, child. To bed with you. Now, before you fall down.” Anaiya did not even wait to see whether she was obeyed. Drawing Calindin after her, she strode to a groaning man lying with his head in a woman’s lap and bent over him. Ashmanaille pulled Elayne another way, and Bharatine took Angla a third. Before she vanished into the crowd, Elayne looked over her shoulder at Nynaeve and shook her head slightly.

Well, perhaps this was not the best time or place to bring up the bowl and Ebou Dar. There had been something odd in Anaiya’s reaction, as though she would be disappointed to learn this truly had not been an attack by the Forsaken. Why? She was too tired to think straight. Anaiya might have controlled the flows, but saidar had passed through Nynaeve for a good hour, enough to weary someone who had had a good night’s sleep.

Swaying, Nynaeve caught sight of Theodrin. The Domani woman limped along with a pair of white-clad novices at her side, pausing where someone seemed to have an injury her skill at Healing could handle. She did not see Nynaeve.

I will go to bed, Nynaeve thought sullenly. Anaiya Sedai told me to. Why had Anaiya seemed disappointed? Some thought nuzzled at the corner of her mind, but she was too sleepy to catch it. Her steps dragged, nearly stumbling on level ground. She would go to sleep, and Theodrin could make of it what she wanted.

CHAPTER

15

A Pile of Sand

Egwene’s eyes opened, stared at nothing. For a moment she lay on her bedding, idly fingering the Great Serpent ring on its thong around her neck. Wearing it on her hand caused too many odd looks. Easier to fit in as a student of the Wise Ones if no one thought of her as Aes Sedai. Which she was not, of course. She was Accepted, yet had pretended to be Aes Sedai so long, she sometimes almos