“You are not one of us,” Janya said, speaking up where she should not as always. She leaned forward, squinting at the new-come sister. “Should I take it you have not come here to join us?”
The Green’s mouth twisted in obvious distaste. “You take it correctly,” she said in a strong Taraboner accent. “My name is Merise Haindehl, and me, I will stand with no sister who wishes to contend against other sisters while the world hangs in the balance. Our enemy, it is the Shadow, not women who wear the shawl as we do.” Mutters rose in the pavilion, some angry, some, Romanda thought, shamed.
“If you disapprove of what we do,” Janya went on, as if she had a right to speak before Romanda, “why do you bring us any sort of proposal?”
“Because the Dragon Reborn, he asked Cadsuane, and Cadsuane, she asked me,” Merise replied. The Dragon Reborn? The tension in the Hall was suddenly palpable, but the woman continued as if she were senseless to it. “Properly, it is not my proposal. Jahar, speak to them.”
The sun-dark youth stepped forward, and as he passed her, Merise reached up to pat him on the shoulder encouragingly. Romanda’s respect for her rose. To bond an Asha’man was accomplishment enough. To pat one as you might a hunting hound took a level of courage and self-confidence she herself was unsure she possessed.
The boy strode to the center of the pavilion staring at the bench where the Amyrlin’s stole lay, then turned about slowly, running his gaze over the Sitters with an air of challenge. It came to Romanda that he was unafraid, too. An Aes Sedai held his bond, he was alone and surrounded by sisters, yet if there was a scrap of fear in him, he had it under complete control.
“Where is Egwene al’Vere?” he demanded. “I was ordered to lay the offer before her.”
“Manners, Jahar,” Merise murmured, and his face colored.
“The Mother is unavailable at the moment,” Romanda said smoothly. “You can tell us, and we will tell her as soon as we can. This offer comes from the Dragon Reborn?” And Cadsuane. But learning what that woman was doing in company with the Dragon Reborn was secondary.
Instead of answering, he snarled and spun to face Merise. “A man just tried to listen in,” he said. “Or maybe it was that Forsaken who killed Eben.”
“He is right.” Aledrin’s voice was unsteady. “At least, something touched my warding, and it wasn’t saidar.”
“He’s channeling?” someone said incredulously. A flurry broke out of Sitters shifting on the benches, and the light of the Power enveloped several.
Abruptly, Delana stood. “I need a breath of fresh air,” she said, glowering at Jahar as though she wanted to rip his throat out.
“There’s no need to be uneasy,” Romanda said, though she was not sure herself, but Delana, wrapped in her shawl, hurried from the pavilion.
Malind passed her coming in, as did Nacelle, a tall slender Malkieri, one of the handful remaining in the Tower. A good many had died in the years after Malkier fell to the Shadow, letting themselves be pulled into schemes to avenge their native land, and replacements had been few and far between since. Nacelle was not particularly intelligent, but then, Greens did not need intelligence, only courage.
“This session has been Sealed to the Hall, Malind,” Romanda said sharply.
“Nacelle needs only moments,” Malind replied, rubbing her hands together. Irritatingly, she did not even bother to look at Romanda, keeping her eyes on the other Green. “This is her first chance to test a new weave. Go ahead, Nacelle. Try it.”
The glow of saidar appeared around the slim Green. Shocking! The woman neither asked permission nor told them what weave she intended, although tight strictures held on what uses of the Power were allowed in the Hall. Channeling all of the Five Powers, she wove around the Asha’man something that seemed akin to the weave for detecting residues, a thing Romanda had small facility for. Nacelle’s blue eyes widened. “He is channeling,” she breathed. “Or at least holding saidin.”
Romanda’s eyebrows climbed. Even Lelaine gasped. Finding a man who could channel was always a matter of reading the residues of what he had done, then arduously narrowing the suspects down to the true culprit. Or rather, it had been. This was truly wondrous. Or would have been before men who could channel started wearing black coats and strutting around openly. Still, it negated one advantage those men had always had over Aes Sedai. The Asha’man seemed not to care. His lip curled in what might have been a sneer.
“Can you tell what he is channeling?” she asked, and disappointingly, Nacelle shook her head.
“I thought I’d be able to, but no. On the other hand. . . . You there, Asha’man. Extend a flow toward one of the Sitters. Nothing dangerous, mind, and do not touch her.”
Merise glowered at her, fists planted on her hips. Maybe Nacelle failed to realize he was one of her Warders. She certainly gestured at him in peremptory fashion. A stubborn cast to his eyes, Jahar opened his mouth.
“Do it, Jahar,” Merise said. “He is mine, Nacelle, but I will let you give him an order. This once.” Nacelle looked shocked. Apparently she had failed to realize.
For the Asha’man’s part, that stubborn look remained, yet he must have obeyed because Nacelle clapped her hands delightedly and laughed.
“Saroiya,” she said excitedly. “You extended a flow toward Saroiya. The Domani White. Am I right?”
Saroiya’s coppery skin paled, and gathering her white-fringed shawl around her, she hastily slid back on her bench as far as she could. For that matter, Aledrin edged away on her own bench.
“Tell her,” Merise said. “Jahar, he can be stubborn, but he is the good boy for all that.”
“The Domani White,” Jahar agreed reluctantly. Saroiya swayed as if she were going to fall over, and he glanced at her contemptuously. “It was only Spirit, and it’s gone now.” Saroiya’s face darkened, but whether from anger or embarrassment there was no telling.
“A remarkable discovery,” Lelaine said, “and I’m sure that Merise will allow you to test further, Nacelle, but the Hall has business to conclude. I’m certain you agree, Romanda.”
Romanda barely managed to stop herself from glaring. Lelaine overstepped herself too often. “If your demonstration is at an end.” she said, “you may withdraw, Nacelle.” The Malkieri Green was reluctant to go, perhaps because she could tell from Merise’s expression that there would be no further testing—really, you would think a Green of all people would be careful with any man who might be another sister’s Warder—yet she had no choice, of course. “What proposal does the Dragon Reborn have for us, boy?” Romanda asked once Nacelle was on the
