Chapter 2: All Manner of Spies
The Empress, Fortuona Athaem Devi Paendrag, sat at the small throne set in the chamber now known as the War Room. Once it had been a Dancing Chamber, the ceiling painted a blue-green sea filled with fanciful fish frolicking in the waves, the floor made of blue, yellow and white tiles in a pattern of swirling shells.
It was covered now with wide tables filled with maps. At her left, to the side, was a map of the territories they now held, from the Almoth Plain, Tarabon, Amadicia and Ebou Dar, her capital, marked with an orderly array of chips showing the disposition of her outposts and standing army. Some were stationed in the Almoth Plain, guarding against the Aiel who had settled on the northern half, most were here in Ebou Dar, guarding the border of Illian.
In front of her was a map of her homeland, Seanchan. It covered the surface of a table nearly a span long and was a chaotic mess of colored wedges and flags. Lieutenant-General Yamada was adding even more as Knotai, Prince of the Ravens, and Captain-General Galgan, Leader of the Return, peered at a gateway at their feet.
"It was as you say, Highness. Lord Moeral Saragovan, High Lord of Imfaral, has swept Lord Ashak off the Fields of Peace."
Knotai nodded, a rueful smile crossing his face. "I hate it when I'm right. Blood and bloody ashes, the man is clever. How many days away is he from the capital?"
"As of this morning, a week, Highness. Perhaps two if he chooses to rest his troops before marching into Seandar."
Tuon wiggled her fingers and Selucia, her Voice, said, "And what of his alliances, General Galgan? What has he promised those who follow him?"
"Autonomy for the Northern isles and the Highlands, and he would elevate the Lords of T'Zura, Anangore and Shon Kifar to the High Blood. To the High Lady of Sohima, he has offered his son in marriage. It seems that they are seeking to build a new Imperial Family," Galgan's voice was grim as he scanned the field before him, dotted with dead men and women like so many broken dolls.
Knotai whistled at that and muttered "Bloody brilliant" but his one eye gleamed like an eagle seeking blood. He would never admit it but battles excited him and he had an unexpected genius for it, a genius that Fortuona would need in the days to come.
Knotai was right; the man was their most formidable opponent. In the months after the murder of her mother, the Empress Radhanan, and the Imperial Family, dozens of lords had risen up in rebellion, fielding armies of soldiers and damane. Fortuona had not dared return then; her army needed to recover from their losses in the Last Battle and besides, the last thing she needed were for those armies to unite against her. The result was towns and cities in smouldering ruins and deaths in the hundreds of thousands.
But the High Lord Moeral had not joined that initial assault; instead, he had let his rivals waste their strength on each other. He had used this time to curry support from those farthest from Seandar, carefully building up his resources. Only after many of his enemies had bloodied each other did he begin his march to Seandar. Some armies he met in battle, others at the negotiating table.
He had demonstrated great skill there as well. The Northern isles and the Highlands had always been lightly held by the Empire; they were sparsely populated anyway and produced few goods for the cities to use. Promising them autonomy would cost the Lord Moeral nothing. T'Zura, Anangore and Shon Kifar were large cities in some of the most prosperous provinces in the Empire, that he had managed to get their allegiance was troubling.
"Your advice then, General?" Selucia voiced.
"If it pleases the Empress, may she live forever, we can wait no longer. If we allow them to march into Seandar, they would certainly use its formidable defences against us and we do not have the resources for a prolonged siege." Knotai nodded in agreement.
Fortouna nodded. Aside from practical reasons, Moeral had too much political support to be allowed to march in to Seandar. To be seen as the one restoring peace in Seanchan would give his claim to the Throne legitimacy. The Seanchan respected order and strength above all things. Empresses have been removed from the Crystal Throne if they could not assure the people's safety.
"I suggest then that we make a gateway and hide our army here…" continued Galgan. He moved several chips marked with the raven to mountains surrounding a narrow pass a few leagues outside the capital. "… then use our damane to destroy his army as they go through. Our scouts say he has several hundred damane but he has left many of those to hold the cities he has conquered. He has perhaps 100 pairs in his army now, enough to overwhelm the garrison in Seandar."
Fortuona fought to keep a smooth face. The sul'dam and damane in the capital have been decimated when the High Lord of Noren M'Shar had made his bid for the Crystal Throne. He had been assassinated less than a year after he had taken the throne but not after he had executed many of the capital's most senior generals. Seandar was like a fruit hanging low on the branch, ripe for the plucking.
"Well, we're not about to let some other bottom warm the Crystal Throne," Knotai muttered, turning to the map.
"The Empress, may she live forever, approves of this decision," announced Selucia. "She gives you leave to plan the disposition of her armies."
Knotai studied the map carefully. "This place will give us good cover. Even with gateways, it will take a lot of time to move our armies. We'll need to bring the der'sul'dam here to let us know how many damane she can spare for gateways and still have them fighting fit, just in case."
"It will be as you say, Highness. I will be ready to present plans tomorrow to the Prince of the Ravens and the Empress, may she live forever." Scribes noted Knotai's words and then withdrew with Galgan, leaving Fortuona alone with Selucia, her Deathwatch Guards and damane, and Knotai.
After the doors to the War Room had closed, Fortuona stepped off her throne to stand by Knotai's side, to peer at the map herself. Her forces were still weaker than she would have liked. Even after waiting for more than two years, carefully rebuilding her army with local conscripts, she still had lesser numbers now than she did at the beginning of the Return.
Unbidden, the words of her forebear rose in her mind, a conversation Fortuona wished she had never had. He had come to her in the midst of the Last Battle, shining with the Light in the midst of blood and death, his presence as great as the Dragon Reborn. In the midst of the battlefield, The Blood, guards, sul'dam and damane alike prostrated themselves in his presence.
He had stopped his swift horse mere inches from her and dismounted, studying her with eyes so keen that it was all Fortuona could do to hold her ground. Afterwards, his eyes had swept across her Honour Guard and he had frowned.
"You have done well, daughter in uniting the Seanchan under my banner. But I've heard disturbing things about these damane. You've built my Empire on sand, on the backs of slaves," Artur Paendrag Tanreall, father of the Empire, had declared, gazing at Fortuona's sul'dam and damane with distaste. He shook his head. "The Creator knows I've had my troubles with women who can channel but death would be a mercy compared to those collars."
"All know that marath'damane are dangerous. They need to be controlled or they will bring destruction on themselves and all who surround them," she had managed to say. This was as true as an albatross meaning victory, as sure as death followed an owl hooting at dawn.
"The Power is like a sharp knife in your hand. It is the hand that holds the knife that makes the kill. I've known treacherous Aes Sedai true, but also many who have acted with honor," he continued. "Your Deathwatch Guards, the Lord Mat and your generals follow you without need for a collar. If you command only with the might of Steel and the Power, then your rule is flimsy indeed."
His black eyes seemed to bore into hers. "I know that you seek to unite these lands again, under my name. These collars will set the White Tower against you and there are these Asha'man. Step carefully, daughter."
But what he was suggesting was unthinkable. To abandon the collar would be like letting torm loose on the battlefield. And with Seanchan at war, she needed every damane she could get. No, she could not afford to think of these things now, not when it was finally time to act. Waiting until her enemies had weakened themselves, until she had produced an heir was the prudent course but Fortuona almost felt sei'mosiev for leaving her people to flounder in the seas of chaos. She barely managed to hold back a sigh.
Fortuona was surprised by a warm hand squeezing her shoulder. Only a moment and it was gone; but it was still a comfort. Knotai knew by now that one could not comfort the Empress in any way in public but she found that she appreciated the gesture. It still amazed her at times how much she had come to rely on her Prince of the Ravens.
The doors to the War Room opened and three figures stepped into the room; one was Darbinda, carrying an infant with coffee-colored skin and bright eyes, and just slightly behind them, a slender girl just short of pretty with dark yellow hair.
"There he is, little Radhika. Just finished with his meeting. I told you your father is a busy man." Despite her words, Darbinda's tone was affectionate as she held the heir to the Crystal Throne, Radhanan Saeti Vas Paendrag.
Wiggling with impatience, Radhika cooed and giggled. "All right, run then if nothing else will please you," Darbinda said, setting the child down with a grin.
Fortuona could not help but smile as well. It was a pleasure to watch her daughter run about in her ivory pajamas, embroidered all over with pink chrysanthemums. Radhanan, more often called Radhika by those who knew her best, went straight to her father, who tossed her high in the air.
"So what have you been up to, you little rascal? Off making Kiva cry again?" teased Knotai, as he set her standing on the table. Kiva was Radhika's nursemaid and her shadow, carefully handpicked by Selucia herself.
Radhika shook her head, her cheeks dimpling. "Bird!" she declared, pointing to the ravens at the map on the table. She was a clever child and had learned to speak early, as had Knotai, he had said. She took a fistful of the chips and threw them on the floor.
"All right, that's enough mess-making for you," Knotai said, hurriedly lifting Radhika off the table. "Why don't we take a walk along the garden? Say good-bye to your Mother first and you can tell me all about your day." Carrying Radhika in his arms, with her small hand in his, Knotai made her wave to Fortuona.
Fortuona smiled, her heart swelling with joy. "Behave yourself, Radhika, and listen to your Father," she said, trying to sound stern.
Radhika's response was to pull her father's hair.
"I'm afraid that's how I would have responded too, you know," Knotai said with a rueful grin. "Come along, Min, Kiva. We'll see you at our evening meals, Tuon. I know you'll want to speak to Beslan about the war."
No one bristled at Knotai calling her by her old name now. They took his eccentricities as part of his unique talent. "All geniuses are odd; and they must be even odder in this side of the Ocean," she had heard one of her Deathwatch Guards say. But they sounded proud.
"I might be late. Be careful of her."
"Don't worry, she's as tough as her old da," was what he said as a parting shot.
"You must excuse me, my Lady Miesa. Captain-General Galgan has called for a meeting of the War Council," said Lieutenant-General Jasyk Solengka, planting a quick kiss on Myrelle's cheek before straightening to fasten his takar carefully across his broad shoulders.
Myrelle Berengari sat up on the pillows in a way that she knew showed off her slender frame to the best advantage and smiled into the Seanchan Lord's deep blue eyes. "Of course, my Lord. Don't worry, I'll find some way to amuse myself."
She stood up, wriggling into a green gown in the Seanchan style and sat across the mirror to arrange her tousled hair. "Is it time, my Lord? Is that the reason for the urgency?"
"It must be. We've waited long enough. I will see you for dinner." It was not a question; they had had dinner together almost every day for the past year.
He barely waited for her reply before he was out of the room, with a parting smile and an eager look in his eyes.
When the door swung close, Myrelle turned back to the mirror, at the face that looked barely into its middle years. It still amazed her how different she looked without the ageless face of an Aes Sedai.
It had been necessary if her subterfuge was to succeed. The mission given to her was simple – spy on the Seanchan in Ebou Dar. Find a way to penetrate the Tarasin Palace and discover everything she could of their troop movements and the disposition of damane. And most importantly, find a way to free the Aes Sedai being held by the Seanchan.
Myrelle had known immediately what to do, using a method as old as Time. Lieutenant-General Jasyk was an intelligent man, with a keen eye for tactics, but a man still for all that.
To do this, she had been temporarily released from the Three Oaths. She housed her three Warders at an inn just outside Ebou Dar, owned by one of the Kin. She kept her ability carefully hidden and rarely channelled; she could invert her weaves of course but only if absolutely necessary. The risk of discovery was too great.
Myrelle started combing her long dark hair, trying to still her agitation. Has the time come at last for the Seanchan to reclaim their homeland? Jasyk seemed to think so; he often spoke of it and the great opportunities it contained for him. Of the Low Blood, he had recently been promoted to Lieutenant-General for his achievements in the Last Battle but a man could do even more, helping the Seanchan Empress recover her throne. The Empress would have to refill the ranks of the Imperial Family and the High Blood, he had said.
An ambitious man, Jasyk, but kind as well. Myrelle thought she could almost be fond of him, if he were not who he was, if he had not been part of an Empire who had enslaved the city she had been born in and put women like her on leashes.
She looked outside her window, into the mellow afternoon light. In the garden behind the damane kennels, sul'dam and damane walked leisurely, some sitting at the benches, laughing, enjoying the cool spring air. It all looked so innocent, Myrelle thought disgusted.
Well, it was time to make her afternoon rounds, she decided, and taking her silken pouch with brightly colored candies, Myrelle left her room.
At the halls of the Tarasin Palace, servants curtsied to her and the other Seanchan smiled. Jasyk was popular and well-respected and as his woman, Myrelle had some status. She was careful to smile back, stopping to drop a kind word or compliment. Servants were a great source of news; few ever thought to guard their tongues with their maids.
Eventually she reached the gardens behind the damane kennels, a cheerful place with flowering shrubs bordering wide paths where damane took their daily walks. "It is good for the damane to get some sun," one sul'dam had told her as casually as if she were talking about walking a dog.
There were many damane out with their sul'dam today, women in blue with lightning marking their skirts. More than usual, Myrelle thought. Perhaps they felt the tensions of the day. Dark-haired Surela was there with her Cara, small and slender as a child and Falendre with Nenci. Sharp tongued Irena was also there with her Zola, a sturdily handsome damane.
Zola was a curious one, Myrelle thought. She was very strong in the One Power, almost as strong as Nynaeve, and Myrelle was sure that she was not Seanchan though she could not exactly place her. Most of the time, she acted like the perfect damane but sometimes, Myrelle surprised a look in those glittering dark eyes that was almost murderous. She also wore a strange looking necklace all the time and as far as Myrelle knew, damane were not allowed possessions. Oh, one might be given a ribbon or a treat as a mark of favour but jewelry?
Perhaps it was because of her strength, thought Myrelle. She had yet to see a damane here in the Tarasin Palace approach Zola in that regard. Still, her instincts told her there was a mystery, one that she unfortunately had little time to tease out.
At last, she spotted one of the sisters – Marthera, a pretty Green siser that her sul'dam had renamed Tana, was sitting with her sul'dam at one of the stone benches shaded by apple trees. Most sul'dam had one or two favourite damane, and Myrelle had taken special pains to befriend those who held the leashes of Aes Sedai.
Myrelle smiled at Sudeet, the sul'dam who held Marthera's leash. "Oh Sudeet, I was able to find that book you so wanted to read. The Tales of Jain Farstrider, was it not?" she said, smiling her widest as she handed the leather bound book to the sul'dam, who looked delighted.
"You are always so thoughtful, Miesa," the brown haired sul'dam said, beaming. The woman was fond of adventure tales and since the Last Battle, the sul'dam in the Tarasin Palace had ample leisure time.
"Has Tana been a good damane?" Myrelle asked, taking her seat beside them and Marthera smiled back, her dark eyes twinkling in that familiar way, the way it had when they had been novices together and they were about to play a prank on an annoying Accepted.
"Oh yes. Tana here has mastered so many of the new weaves Suffa has been teaching. Those marvellous Keepings for example, perfect for keeping kaf beans fresh," the diminutive sul'dam enthused.
"Ah, there is nothing better than a piping hot cup of kaf in the morning," agreed Myrelle, though inside she was furious. Burn Elaida!
Myrelle stood up before she could let her temper show. "You must excuse me, Sudeet. I think I'll go visit the kennels today. I have some delicious treats for them that I found at the market today." She handed a caramel candy to Sudeet.
"Miesa is a great friend to the damane," Sudeet beamed, handing the candy over to Marthera, who accepted it with an amused grin.
"Just a small service that I do for the Empire," Myrelle said in parting. Indeed, most sul'dam saw her visits to the damane the way they saw a noble bringing food to an orphanage. A kindly deed done for the lowly.
There were no more Aes Sedai being exercised that day, which delighted Myrelle. That meant a greater chance that she could speak to them in the kennels. She could only visit twice a week; more would occasion talk. But it was important that Myrelle visit them every week, to remind them of who they were. She had had to abandon too many Initiates who had become ... unreliable. That was cold-hearted but she had no bloody choice.
And there was Elaida. Try as she might, Myrelle still could not find where she was being held. The woman was a fool for letting slip that she was the Amyrlin Seat, thinking that her rank would buy her ransom. The woman's training had been given to senior der'sul'dam and judging from all the new weaves the Seanchan had discovered over the past two years, Elaida had been completely broken. Thank the Light, the woman had not known about inverting and reversing weaves!
Still, Myrelle was determined to seek her out, if only to spirit her away when the time came, to remove the shame from the Tower. Even if she personally had to carry the woman in a sack across Altara. Light, the Amyrlin Seat herself in the hands of the Seanchan!
The sul'dam guards at the kennel smiled as she slipped into the room of Annharid, a Yellow Sister. Myrelle found her sitting on the floor, her back against her bed.
"I am so glad to see you, Lady Miesa! I was becoming so bloody bored in here," the lanky, blonde-haired sister grumbled.
Myrelle stifled a laugh. She remembered Annharid as an Accepted with a sharp tongue and short patience. She had an even sharper mind though which was more important.
"Something important is happening," Annharid said abruptly as Myrelle sat on a plain chair beside the plain desk at one corner of the tiny room. Myrelle did not really see the point of it; only a few very exceptional damane were allowed books or pen and paper to write or draw. Surprisingly, the woman had one here – Chronicles of the Crystal Throne, a history book. She held it up with a questioning look.
"A way to pass the afternoons," she said dismissively. "Many of the most senior sul'dam were called to a meeting this afternoon. I heard them say something about gateways and making a list of which damane in Altara were strong enough to make one to let soldiers through," continued Annharid. "I never thought I would say this but I am glad that I am not one of those. Few of the Sisters held here can, which is a mercy. Have you heard anything?"
"They called Jasyk away for a meeting as well. He thinks the Empress is finally starting her campaign to reclaim Seanchan," Myrelle tried to keep her voice light. Anyone who passed outside the door would just think it was a sul'dam and her damane chatting.
Annharid nodded, her blue eyes brightening. "As I thought. They're sure to take to the strongest and most talented damane. This could be our chance!" Annharid couldn't help the slight lift in her voice then.
"We will know by tonight. I'll get as much information as I can from Jasyk. But do you think there's any chance that our Sisters would be brought along for the campaign?"
Annharid shook her head. "You need not worry on that score. Most of their damane already know Healing and all the sul'dam know by now that we are limited in the battlefield. They'll bring most of the Seanchan damane – they say it doesn't matter but the sul'dam trust them more - and then from the ones taken here, only the most powerful will be taken. Which really only puts one of us in danger..."
"...Elaida," they said in unison.
"That Light-blinded goat! The first few months we were here they kept us separated, of course, but even Gitta and Vanora ..." A Green and a Red, those two were the strongest in the Power here besides Elaida. "...soon learned that they had better keep their heads low if they wanted to survive."
Annharid sighed and Myrelle knew why. Vanora was lost to them now. Put on a mask too long and there was a danger that one could forget that it was a mask.
How long could Myrelle hold them together? It was remarkable that the Sisters had been able to hold out for so long. Though the presence of the Aiel Wise Ones had helped... those women were as tough as old tree roots. They had managed to hold together too, waiting for the other Wise Ones to barter for their freedom. A few of them were dreamwalkers too and kept the Aiel well-informed of Seanchan activities.
Unfortunately, the Aes Sedai did not have that advantage since they lost Egwene. They relied on Myrelle and the few eyes-and-ears the Amyrlin had managed to place in the Tarasin Palace for news.
Before Annharid could think on Vanora further, Myrelle forced herself to continue. "The time is coming, Annharid. We already have sufficient angreal for everyone here and if the Empress decides to go on this campaign and brings most of the sul'dam with her..."
"If, if! Just give us those bloody angreal and I swear we'll give those sul'dam a fight they won't forget. I've learned everything they've had to teach me and this battle won't be the same as the last time!" declared Annharid, her blue eyes hard. She did not seem to realize that her hands had clenched into fights.
Myrelle swallowed. She had always thought Annharid should have chosen Green. Captivity had changed some of the Aes Sedai but it had hardened Annharid.
"I'll pry everything I can out of Jasyk and keep you informed. We can meet again in two days," Myrelle assured the Yellow hastily. Light, but she hoped the woman could keep it together long enough. "The Amyrlin will need numbers as well..."
"I'll keep my eyes and ears open. The sul'dam might let slip how many they'll be sending away. But you do realize that they'll likely weaken the garrisons in Amadicia and the ones near Murandy, not the ones here in Ebou Dar? This is their capital, after all."
"The Amyrlin has plans for Ebou Dar." Myrelle hesitated but then decided that she might as well go on. Three years as a captive... light, but the woman had the right to know!
By the time she was finished detailing Cadsuane's plans, Annharid's face had cracked into a smile. "For such a no-nonsense woman, Cadsuane does have a flair for the dramatic," the Yellow Sister said with a chuckle. "And she's roped in the Wise Ones and the Sea Folk too?"
"She has hopes for the Black Tower to join as well," admitted Myrelle.
"The most powerful women in the world and men who can channel? My only regret is that I won't be there to see their faces!" declared Annharid, her eyes lighting with genuine mirth. "I'll spread word that the time is coming, Myrelle, and do what I can to spread the tumult along when it arrives." Her smile was almost feral as she said, "Just make sure that I have one of those angreal when it happens!"
Myrelle felt a shiver down her spine. She had seen that look in someone's eyes before – in Warders who had lost their Aes Sedai. However the confrontation shook out, Myrelle was sure that there were only two ways it could go for Annharid. It would lead to her freedom... or her death.
"...Ye – I. No – Me. Asa – You," Jera, the last of the twelve girls in Merise's class, recited methodically ending with a sigh of relief.
"Good. Tonight, you will all study the parts of the body in the Old Tongue. Remember them well because there will be recitations," said Merise.
The girls knew not to groan by now. They sketched quick curtsies to her before they left.
When the last girl had closed the door carefully, Merise allowed herself to smile as she sat down behind her desk. They were good girls, if a little rambunctious, but all they had needed were a firm hand to set them on the path to learning. They woke up before the sun rose, broke their fast, did their daily chores, then studied their lessons in Mathematics, the Sciences, History and the Old Tongue until the sun set. They were also taught useful crafts – embroidery for example, weaving or the fine art of trade. That was why parents sent their girls to the Academy of the White Dove. For a better future.
Of course, the Academy was also a front for the White Tower, a way for the Kin and the Aes Sedai to help girls who could channel in Tarabon escape the a'dam.
It had been Famelle Juarde, formerly of the Kin and now Blue Ajah, who had put the idea forward. Inspired by the farm the Kin had run in Altara, Beonin Marinye had secured one of her mother's estates in the outskirts of Tarabon. The Tower had provided for more buildings – dormitories for the students, stables, even a barn. Everything to give it an appearance of a bustling institution every mother would want to send her daughter to, especially as entrance into the Academy was free.
It was the Kin who did the initial recruitment, approaching families with known sympathies to the former King or Panarch of Tarabon, discontented nobles or those with ties to the Tower. Girls were brought to the Academy to be tested in a room fathoms deep, accessible only by a hidden door from the basement. Those who had the spark or the ability to learn were taken by gateway to Tar Valon then and there. Those who did not were allowed to stay and study under the Aes Sedai helping them to maintain their front. A gift for families who had helped the Tower; after all, no one could ask for finer teachers than Sisters.
It had only been a little over two years but word about the Academy was slowly beginning to spread in certain circles of Tarabon. Now families who had relatives who were Sisters, no matter if it were a third cousin twice removed, delivered their girls to the Academy's doorsteps. Nobles sent daughters of their vassals, of trusted generals and soldiers. It was but a small act of defiance, but defiance nonetheless.
Merise frowned. It wasn't enough though. Things were working out well now, when some of her people could still remember life before the Seanchan. But as more and more years passed under Seanchan rule, the easier it would be to forget that once women who could channel walked free. The Seachan ways would be all that they knew.
"Stop worrying about things you can't do anything about, Merise," advised Jahar and if she weren't Aes Sedai, she would have jumped. Her Asha'man Warder was a quiet one but so dedicated. He had wanted to achieve so much after the Last Battle, busying himself with rebuilding the Black Tower under the leadership of Logain. He could have been named one of the Valdar, which meant Guardian in the Old Tongue, one of the ruling council in the Black Tower. Yet when she had told him about being assigned to this mission in Tarabon, he had not hesitated to leave.
"If you're going up against the Seanchan, it can't hurt to have one more person who could channel. I'm someone they won't expect," he had said, while she was helping him pack. Even now, men who could channel were a rarity and Jahar was strong in the Power, somewhat stronger than Merise. Once that had made her uneasy, but events since had shown her how wrong she was to doubt his loyalty.
"It just doesn't seem enough, Jahar," Merise muttered, restlessly thumbing through her record book. "I could almost accept the rule of the Seanchan; they have brought order to Tarabon and my people are the better for it. Yet even with the Dragon's Peace, they will not stop trying to collar us all. They send their teachers to inns and merchants trying to convince others that they are right. And we cannot do anything about it because of that... alliance that the Dragon forced on us."
"Yet without it, where would the White Tower be now? Do you think the Seanchan would have stayed their hand during the Last Battle?" Jahar questioned, perhaps irked by the bitterness in her voice. He still bristled at any criticism of the Lord Dragon.
"Peace, Jahar," Merise held up her hand in a soothing gesture. "It is just that I do not like feeling this way, besieged by enemies I cannot strike."
Jahar smiled. "You were born to be Green, weren't you? Perhaps you and I should go on the scouting mission the next time, instead of Bernaile, Famelle and Bharatine."
Merise smiled. "They are better than I at that kind of dissembling. Bernaile is all logic and Bharatine..."
The door swung open, revealing the rail thin Green, dark brown hair clicking in Taraboner braids. "Bernaile and Famelle are consulting with Alise on the accounts. I have come here to report." Bharatine could sometimes be as emotionless as a White but she was a stickler for rank like most Greens.
The estate was in Beonin's name but the Amyrlin had named Merise head of the mission. Meanwhile, Alise Tenjile, the leader of the Kin in Anddor, was Mistress of the Keys, ensuring that stores were bought, meals were served, and that all the books were in order.
Merise nodded and the two of them moved to sit at the student's desks, while Jahar leaned against the teacher's table to listen.
"As instructed, we visited the Seanchan garrison under guise of delivering some fresh baked bread from the girls for the soldiers and our eyes-and-ears were right. They were as busy as an anthill someone stirred with a stick," Bharatine recited calmly. "As far as we could ascertain, they were pulling out their most accomplished units and replacing them with fresh recruits. They left only a handful of sul'dam and damane here as well."
Something flickered in the woman's gray eyes, a spark of anger. "Everyone was proclaiming the glory of the Empress and how she was finally going to retake the Crystal Throne. Everyone, Merise, even the Taraboner soldiers."
Somehow it was comforting to know that the woman was not as cool as she looked.
"The memory of men are short, Bharatine. The farmers, the craftsmen, they will naturally turn to the one who has brought the land security," Merise answered more calmly than she felt. "It is not our goal to overthrow the Seanchan, however much we want to. We are merely to contain them. Did they say when their campaign would begin?"
"They were weaving gateways to Ebou Dar when we left. A few days, perhaps a week at the most," replied Bharatine. "With their forces divided, the Seanchan will be weaker. Perhaps with a little encouragement..."
"Be careful, Bharatine," Merise interrupted, more sharply than she would have liked. She had forgotten that Bharatine's family once had a seat in the Assembly of Lords. "The last thing we need is another civil war in Tarabon."
"Now that the Whitecloaks are done interfering in Tarabon's affairs and the Almoth Plain is quiet with the Aiel settling there, I see no reason why we cannot have a lasting peace in Tarabon. And under one of our own, not with some wilder who calls herself Empress. Perhaps it is your memory that is short, Merise. We've managed our own affairs well enough for hundreds of years," replied Bharatine with a definite chill in her voice.
The woman rose stiffly and left the room, her usual icy self, before Merise could respond. Merise half-rose to follow her but was stopped by Jahar's hand on her arm.
"She's frightened, Merise. Too many Taraboners have accepted the Seanchan. She thinks that if no one takes advantage of this opening, then perhaps Tarabon will never be free. Or will not want to," he said.
Merise allowed herself to sit back. "This is not something that I like Jahar but I do not know if I can put people at risk with yet more battles." Bharatine had been the daughter of a noble. She had not known what it was like to live through a war, through uncertainty and privation. It had been many years since Merise had been the fourth daughter of a family of nine eking out an existence in a small farm, fearing taxes and conscription, but she had not forgotten.
Merise looked at Jahar and he nodded. Watch her closely, that look said, and Jahar understood. It was truly amazing the effects the Warder bond had when you used it with a man who could channel.
"I'll see if dinner is ready," he said and Merise realized with a start that the sun had set and the world outside was slowly sinking into darkness.
The dawn of a new age but some things never changed, Merise thought as she tidied up the teacher's desk. Scheming and secrets came as easily as breathing to Aes Sedai; she only hoped Bharatine was wise enough to keep her hands clean. It would not do to test their fragile alliance with the Aiel by inciting someone to break the Dragon's Peace.
Then again, would war within one's own country be counted as breaking the Dragon's Peace? She would have to ask a Gray Sister about it, Merise decided. If it was not...
With the Empress gone and the Seanchan's forces divided, the time to strike back at the invaders had never been so ripe. But the more important question was how?