Cael irritably threw his belt knife, taking little pleasure from the sound of the steel digging into the small wooden target block. One of his men, Numel, tugged it free and brought it back, so that he could throw it again.
He was only in the apartments given to him by the Aes Sedai. His men were given rooms near the edge of town, but were permitted to visit in addition to buying supplies. Cael would have simply gone out to them, but the Aes Sedai had told him to wait here for his answer, and they might come at any time. Or never.
Two days had already passed, with no word. Cael had tried asking questions, but was either talked in circles or flatly told to go to his room. If he was called 'child' one more time, he thought he was going to snap. Matters were not helped by the fact that if he did, even the smallest woman could likely deal with him as though he were a child, and his alliance would be made impossible to boot. He could only wait here, filling his time with idle swordplay or strategy lessons with Captain Sarast. The man was an excellent fighter with an excellent mind, but Cael had surpassed him in both aspects. He claimed Cael was skilled enough to be a blademaster, but without another blademaster to fight or five adequate judges, they couldn't be sure. Cael didn't care very much if he was or was not. As long as he could best a man on the battlefield, it did not matter. In the end, really, it was just a title.
Cael threw his knife again. These women were wasting his time. If they weren't going to help, he needed to leave and prepare some kind of defense. At this rate, even if the Aes Sedai did agree to help him, the war would be over by the time he arrived.
"Fear not, my Lord." Captain Sarast spoke, sensing Cael's impatience and frustration. "Your Father, the King, is gathering the army. Even if you were with him, you would not be accomplishing more than you are now. Try to trust in the Pattern."
The old veteran was correct, of course. Mustering the country's forces would take days, possibly even weeks, to complete. Weeks that they did not have. Cael could only pray the massive size of this fleet hindered its ability to move. Cael raised his arm to throw his knife yet again, brough back by Numel as before, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Enter." Cael spoke lazily, expecting one of his men. Instead, it was Jabril, the owner of the building. He was a rather round man, past his middle years, with a big nose and a balding head, which was currently bobbing in greetings.
"Mm, my Lord, the Sisters have summoned you to the main square."
Cael was out of his seat in a flash, his knife slipping into a sheath at his belt, which buckled over the sabrewulf pelt. He was dressed plainly in the linen clothes her wore beneath his armor, in addition to his leather boots. He paused only long enough to grab his heavy fur-trimmed cloak before striding out of the room, Jabril gaping somewhat slightly. Numel and Captain Sarast followed in his wake.