The girl stood before him, as his eyes took her in. Leah did closely
resemble Nynaeve, although there were several obvious differences.
She was too young for one thing, hardly a day over nineteen. Her hips were a little broader, but they met at a waist that was inches to thin. The girl had known many a day with little or no food.
Her hair, while the proper length was touched with just a hint of red. Her eyes were the color of mahogany, lacking the flecks of green that had so often held Lan captive. Her skin was darker by several shades, indicative of a life out of doors.
He had known every inch of her face to the smallest of detail. He had sat many nights while she slept, studying her silhouette in the moonlight. He had engraved every curve, every contour into his mind walking beside her through the streets. Even now he could smell her scent, some light floral perfume. He could recall the tiny birthmark, hardly more than a freckle that rested on her neck, at the very edge of where her hair met in that thick braid.
He studied this girl, so similar to the one that he had loved. He met her gaze, and all differences seemed to melt away in that knowing stare. He wanted to rush to her, to take her in his arms and try to explain. He would tell her that he should have been there earlier. He would speak of Mandarb's lost shoe, and his flight across the river. He would tell her these things that she might understand how he had come to fail her. He would tell her how cold she had been, how pale and fragile. He would ask for forgiveness, plead it of her. He nearly took a step before he remembered himself. Not Nynaeve. Nynaeve was lost to him, and all that was left was vengeance.
The girl would deceive no one who had known Nynaeve. Not if they were allowed to come near. But Lan did not intend to fool those she knew. He would rely on whispers and rumors, trickling to the ears of those he sought.
"We have much to cover." Lan said in a voice that was more harsh than necessary. "I will have to find you a horse. Can you ride?"
A small smile flickered across her face. "Well enough to stay in the saddle. Not well enough to win any equestrian competitions." Lan only nodded to this, and quickly continued on.
"I am staying at the Horse and Buggy. I have told the innkeeper that I will be expecting to meet a traveling companion in two days. That is not much time to prepare you. Once there, I have arranged for us to dine in private. Your tutoring will continue for as long as I feel necessary. For now, I need only see that your appearance is appropriate."
It was Leah's turn to nod, her dark brows knitted together in concentration. "You must walk with your head high, back straight. You must be confident." He rapped the bottom of her chin with his palm until it was parallel to the floor, and she nodded again.
"Nynaeve has a stubborn streak. She angers quickly when she feels that others fail to see what is obvious, obvious meaning her way. This happens often. Once angered, she takes her braid in hand, like this," he said lifting her hair, "and tugs it. The angrier she is, the harder she pulls, as if to yank every strand out by root." His eyes dropped to his fist clutching her tresses. He wondered how many times that braid had been throttled in place of his throat. He let the plait fall from his grip.
Leah broke the silence. "This ring, it means that she is one who could channel?" The question was not one that he had expected, and he hesitated before answering.
Lan had traveled long beside Moraine. She had taught him a great deal. One lesson he had learned particularly well: the truth you speak, may not be the truth that they hear. It was a proverb whispered in many a village hearing of the presence of an Aes Sedai. He had told Leah only what he dared. A friend had been killed by a dangerous woman, a dark friend. He wished to see her pay in blood for what she had done. There was no way for this woman to know that she had succeeded in killing his friend, and it was this point that they would use to their advantage. He made no mention of the Forsaken. He danced around the details of Nynaeve's death. He would only allow her to know what was safe for her to know.
"Yes." He said after a short pause. "She was Aes Sedai, of the Yellow Ajah. She was a gifted healer." His eyes seemed to soften for a moment, but he coughed into his balled fist and quickly turned his head.
Leah once again smoothed her skirts. "Then won't they know that I am not she? I cannot, I mean, I am not..." Her eyes flickered between his eyes and her left hand.
"As I have said before, we do not hope to fool those who knew her. Nor do we hope to fool any Aes Sedai." He looked her straight in the eyes. "You know what we face. Those we seek will wish to kill you. As long as we carry out this charade you are in danger. Do you still wish to proceed with the plan?"
Her chin lifted and her eyes blazed. "I do not fear this woman." What she did fear was another night without shelter, another day with no certainty of nourishment. She could remember when her feet had cracked and bled when the rags had no longer been enough protection from the cold. She had watched hunger take the lives of children, seen armed men moving in the shadows, ready to kill for a loaf of bread. "The deal still stands. Two hundred gold coins when your blade is stained red."
"I will leave you for the night. We will begin again in the morning. Sleep well." Lan crossed the room swiftly, leaving her alone to contemplate the day's events. Her quick mind turned over every word spoken, and those that had not been said.
She had been originally too stunned to think. Taken up from the streets into the safety of an inn, even a poor one, she had eaten her fill of bread and meat. Her dry tongue soaked up every drop of mulberry wine.
Once bathed and dressed, she had stood before the mirror as if unsure of her own reflection. Her hands had moved over every inch of silk, her fingers tracing the fine embroidery. The dress was ill fitting, chosen by a man not used to such purchases. The skirt was too long, dragging at her feet. The waist needed to be taken in, while the material strained over her bust. But she stood in front of the mirror as a queen. She felt regal.
Then they had sat in her small room, chairs pulled so close that their knees were almost touching. Her face had paled as he spoke, but her resolve had stiffened. Two hundred gold coins were enough to buy a small plot of land, maybe even a flock of sheep. She had been raised on a farm and was accustomed to hard labor.
Hours later she was alone in her bed chambers. This woman, this Nynaeve, had been an Aes Sedai, able to wield the one power. Leah had never seen an Aes Sedai, but she had heard tales at the foot of a gleeman. Aes Sedai were women who could make the sky rain fire, and make the earth explode at the feet of their enemies. She had been killed by a dangerous woman in such a manner as that her death could not be confirmed. This eliminated the possibility of a knife buried between shoulder blades, or poison in a goblet. She studied the golden ring. Something about channeling seemed to tickle a memory in the back of her mind, but it was gone just as quickly.
She had heard stories of the Dragon Reborn, of men who could channel. These men were fated to go mad and die horrible deaths. But it was not a man. They sought a woman. The Forsaken were bound by the creator, and it was a woman they sought. That eliminated all possibilities of channeling being involved, but still... Her eyes threatened to close as weariness set in. She rubbed them hard and began again.
A dark friend, he had said. A dark friend had been able to kill an Aes Sedai, a woman capable of wielding the one power.
She paced the length of the room to try to focus her thoughts. Six steps brought her from wall to wall. She turned and began the six steps back.
She had never before seen a warder, but this man surely fit the image she had engraved in her mind as a child. He carried a sword as casually as most men carried tools. He was a warder out to avenge the death of his Aes Sedai.
She paced the room many times that night before curling up beneath the covers. She pulled the down comforter up around her shoulders and breathed in the scent of freshly laundered linens. She was no closer to making sense of the day when she let sleep take her.
They spent the second day very much like the first, behind the locked door of her cramped room. Again she paced, but now it was with Lan's watchful eyes upon her. Occasionally he would cross the room to her, making corrections on her posture, or her stride. The distance that had previously been covered in six paces, was now covered in five.
He asked question after question. Now he corrected tone as well as responses. By noon, she found herself tightly gripping her braid in frustration.
"I do not think that I can do this." She said with a sigh, dropping onto the hard wooden chair.
"Nynaeve is too stubborn to quit." Lan said in that irritatingly monotone voice.
Leah cried out. Half scream, half growl, it was a cry of exasperation. Her head fell forward into her hands and she combed her fingers through her dark mane. That voice was what had grated on her nerves all day. He never showed his annoyance. He just watched and adjusted. All day he had rebuked her in that same calm voice. "Do you not see that I am trying? I can not become a different person over night."
"I understand." He replied flatly. This time her cry was more growl than scream. She rose to her feet smoothly and hit him hard in the shoulder with her balled fist.
"You are an irritatingly, aggravating, stubborn wool headed man! You..." His laughter stopped her in mid sentence. It was gruff, and barely seemed to warm his eyes.
"You are making more progress than I thought." He smiled at her as he lightly touched his shoulder.
It was dusk on the third day when she led her chestnut mare through the city to the courtyard of the Horse and Buggy. She sat stiff-backed in the saddle, her hands clutching the reins much more tightly than necessary. Her riding gloves were stretched tight over her knuckles.
A young stable boy rushed out into the evening gloom to assist in her dismount. She smoothed her emerald skirts, and pushed back the hood on her fur-lined cloak. Her golden serpent ring nestled firmly in her belt pouch. Her breath misted in little white clouds as it crossed her lips. The moon was faintly visible above the treetops, a ghostly visage watching over the city.
She refused to let the cold touch her, although it was will power alone that kept her from shivering. Aes Sedai did not feel the cold. Nor did they sweat. She had tried to tell Lan that she was no Aes Sedai, but he had merely replied in that unflappable manner that she had best learn.
In a firm, no nonsense voice she spoke. "I am Mistress Myriam. I believe that Master Andra is expecting me."
She was too young for one thing, hardly a day over nineteen. Her hips were a little broader, but they met at a waist that was inches to thin. The girl had known many a day with little or no food.
Her hair, while the proper length was touched with just a hint of red. Her eyes were the color of mahogany, lacking the flecks of green that had so often held Lan captive. Her skin was darker by several shades, indicative of a life out of doors.
He had known every inch of her face to the smallest of detail. He had sat many nights while she slept, studying her silhouette in the moonlight. He had engraved every curve, every contour into his mind walking beside her through the streets. Even now he could smell her scent, some light floral perfume. He could recall the tiny birthmark, hardly more than a freckle that rested on her neck, at the very edge of where her hair met in that thick braid.
He studied this girl, so similar to the one that he had loved. He met her gaze, and all differences seemed to melt away in that knowing stare. He wanted to rush to her, to take her in his arms and try to explain. He would tell her that he should have been there earlier. He would speak of Mandarb's lost shoe, and his flight across the river. He would tell her these things that she might understand how he had come to fail her. He would tell her how cold she had been, how pale and fragile. He would ask for forgiveness, plead it of her. He nearly took a step before he remembered himself. Not Nynaeve. Nynaeve was lost to him, and all that was left was vengeance.
The girl would deceive no one who had known Nynaeve. Not if they were allowed to come near. But Lan did not intend to fool those she knew. He would rely on whispers and rumors, trickling to the ears of those he sought.
"We have much to cover." Lan said in a voice that was more harsh than necessary. "I will have to find you a horse. Can you ride?"
A small smile flickered across her face. "Well enough to stay in the saddle. Not well enough to win any equestrian competitions." Lan only nodded to this, and quickly continued on.
"I am staying at the Horse and Buggy. I have told the innkeeper that I will be expecting to meet a traveling companion in two days. That is not much time to prepare you. Once there, I have arranged for us to dine in private. Your tutoring will continue for as long as I feel necessary. For now, I need only see that your appearance is appropriate."
It was Leah's turn to nod, her dark brows knitted together in concentration. "You must walk with your head high, back straight. You must be confident." He rapped the bottom of her chin with his palm until it was parallel to the floor, and she nodded again.
"Nynaeve has a stubborn streak. She angers quickly when she feels that others fail to see what is obvious, obvious meaning her way. This happens often. Once angered, she takes her braid in hand, like this," he said lifting her hair, "and tugs it. The angrier she is, the harder she pulls, as if to yank every strand out by root." His eyes dropped to his fist clutching her tresses. He wondered how many times that braid had been throttled in place of his throat. He let the plait fall from his grip.
Leah broke the silence. "This ring, it means that she is one who could channel?" The question was not one that he had expected, and he hesitated before answering.
Lan had traveled long beside Moraine. She had taught him a great deal. One lesson he had learned particularly well: the truth you speak, may not be the truth that they hear. It was a proverb whispered in many a village hearing of the presence of an Aes Sedai. He had told Leah only what he dared. A friend had been killed by a dangerous woman, a dark friend. He wished to see her pay in blood for what she had done. There was no way for this woman to know that she had succeeded in killing his friend, and it was this point that they would use to their advantage. He made no mention of the Forsaken. He danced around the details of Nynaeve's death. He would only allow her to know what was safe for her to know.
"Yes." He said after a short pause. "She was Aes Sedai, of the Yellow Ajah. She was a gifted healer." His eyes seemed to soften for a moment, but he coughed into his balled fist and quickly turned his head.
Leah once again smoothed her skirts. "Then won't they know that I am not she? I cannot, I mean, I am not..." Her eyes flickered between his eyes and her left hand.
"As I have said before, we do not hope to fool those who knew her. Nor do we hope to fool any Aes Sedai." He looked her straight in the eyes. "You know what we face. Those we seek will wish to kill you. As long as we carry out this charade you are in danger. Do you still wish to proceed with the plan?"
Her chin lifted and her eyes blazed. "I do not fear this woman." What she did fear was another night without shelter, another day with no certainty of nourishment. She could remember when her feet had cracked and bled when the rags had no longer been enough protection from the cold. She had watched hunger take the lives of children, seen armed men moving in the shadows, ready to kill for a loaf of bread. "The deal still stands. Two hundred gold coins when your blade is stained red."
"I will leave you for the night. We will begin again in the morning. Sleep well." Lan crossed the room swiftly, leaving her alone to contemplate the day's events. Her quick mind turned over every word spoken, and those that had not been said.
She had been originally too stunned to think. Taken up from the streets into the safety of an inn, even a poor one, she had eaten her fill of bread and meat. Her dry tongue soaked up every drop of mulberry wine.
Once bathed and dressed, she had stood before the mirror as if unsure of her own reflection. Her hands had moved over every inch of silk, her fingers tracing the fine embroidery. The dress was ill fitting, chosen by a man not used to such purchases. The skirt was too long, dragging at her feet. The waist needed to be taken in, while the material strained over her bust. But she stood in front of the mirror as a queen. She felt regal.
Then they had sat in her small room, chairs pulled so close that their knees were almost touching. Her face had paled as he spoke, but her resolve had stiffened. Two hundred gold coins were enough to buy a small plot of land, maybe even a flock of sheep. She had been raised on a farm and was accustomed to hard labor.
Hours later she was alone in her bed chambers. This woman, this Nynaeve, had been an Aes Sedai, able to wield the one power. Leah had never seen an Aes Sedai, but she had heard tales at the foot of a gleeman. Aes Sedai were women who could make the sky rain fire, and make the earth explode at the feet of their enemies. She had been killed by a dangerous woman in such a manner as that her death could not be confirmed. This eliminated the possibility of a knife buried between shoulder blades, or poison in a goblet. She studied the golden ring. Something about channeling seemed to tickle a memory in the back of her mind, but it was gone just as quickly.
She had heard stories of the Dragon Reborn, of men who could channel. These men were fated to go mad and die horrible deaths. But it was not a man. They sought a woman. The Forsaken were bound by the creator, and it was a woman they sought. That eliminated all possibilities of channeling being involved, but still... Her eyes threatened to close as weariness set in. She rubbed them hard and began again.
A dark friend, he had said. A dark friend had been able to kill an Aes Sedai, a woman capable of wielding the one power.
She paced the length of the room to try to focus her thoughts. Six steps brought her from wall to wall. She turned and began the six steps back.
She had never before seen a warder, but this man surely fit the image she had engraved in her mind as a child. He carried a sword as casually as most men carried tools. He was a warder out to avenge the death of his Aes Sedai.
She paced the room many times that night before curling up beneath the covers. She pulled the down comforter up around her shoulders and breathed in the scent of freshly laundered linens. She was no closer to making sense of the day when she let sleep take her.
They spent the second day very much like the first, behind the locked door of her cramped room. Again she paced, but now it was with Lan's watchful eyes upon her. Occasionally he would cross the room to her, making corrections on her posture, or her stride. The distance that had previously been covered in six paces, was now covered in five.
He asked question after question. Now he corrected tone as well as responses. By noon, she found herself tightly gripping her braid in frustration.
"I do not think that I can do this." She said with a sigh, dropping onto the hard wooden chair.
"Nynaeve is too stubborn to quit." Lan said in that irritatingly monotone voice.
Leah cried out. Half scream, half growl, it was a cry of exasperation. Her head fell forward into her hands and she combed her fingers through her dark mane. That voice was what had grated on her nerves all day. He never showed his annoyance. He just watched and adjusted. All day he had rebuked her in that same calm voice. "Do you not see that I am trying? I can not become a different person over night."
"I understand." He replied flatly. This time her cry was more growl than scream. She rose to her feet smoothly and hit him hard in the shoulder with her balled fist.
"You are an irritatingly, aggravating, stubborn wool headed man! You..." His laughter stopped her in mid sentence. It was gruff, and barely seemed to warm his eyes.
"You are making more progress than I thought." He smiled at her as he lightly touched his shoulder.
It was dusk on the third day when she led her chestnut mare through the city to the courtyard of the Horse and Buggy. She sat stiff-backed in the saddle, her hands clutching the reins much more tightly than necessary. Her riding gloves were stretched tight over her knuckles.
A young stable boy rushed out into the evening gloom to assist in her dismount. She smoothed her emerald skirts, and pushed back the hood on her fur-lined cloak. Her golden serpent ring nestled firmly in her belt pouch. Her breath misted in little white clouds as it crossed her lips. The moon was faintly visible above the treetops, a ghostly visage watching over the city.
She refused to let the cold touch her, although it was will power alone that kept her from shivering. Aes Sedai did not feel the cold. Nor did they sweat. She had tried to tell Lan that she was no Aes Sedai, but he had merely replied in that unflappable manner that she had best learn.
In a firm, no nonsense voice she spoke. "I am Mistress Myriam. I believe that Master Andra is expecting me."