rj.thepathofdaggers-第11节

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　　　　　　　〃Why　are　you　scowling；　Aviendha？〃　Elayne　asked；　giving　her　a　pat　on　the　arm　and　a　smile。　〃Don't　worry。　You　know　the　weave；　you　will　do　just　fine。〃
　　　　　　　Nynaeve　leaned　her　head　close　and　whispered；　〃I'll　fix　you　a　tea　when　I　have　a　chance。　I　know　several　that　will　soothe　your　stomach。　Or　any　woman's　troubles。〃　She　patted　Aviendha's　arm；　too。
　　　　　　　They　did　not　understand。　No　forting　words　or　teas　would　cure　what　ailed　her。　She　was　enjoying　talk　of　lace　and　embroidery！　She　did　not　know　whether　to　growl　in　disgust　or　wail　in　despair。　She　was　growing　soft。　Never　before　in　her　life　had　she　looked　at　a　woman's　dress　except　to　think　where　it　might　be　hiding　a　weapon；　never　to　notice　the　color　and　cut；　or　think　how　it　would　look　on　her。　It　was　past　time　to　be　away　from　this　city；　away　from　wetlander　palaces。　Soon　she　would　start　simpering。　She　had　not　seen　Elayne　or　Nynaeve　do　that；　but　everyone　knew　wetlander　women　simpered；　and　it　was　obvious　she　had　bee　as　weak　as　any　milk…water　wetlander。　Strolling　arm…in…arm；　chatting　about　lace！　How　was　she　to　reach　her　belt　knife　if　someone　attacked　them？　A　knife　might　be　useless　against　the　likeliest　assailants；　but　she　had　had　faith　in　steel　long　before　she　knew　she　could　channel。　Should　anyone　try　to　harm　Elayne　or　Nynaeve　…　especially　Elayne；　but　she　had　promised　Mat　Cauthon　to　protect　them　both　surely　as　Birgitte　and　Aan'allein　had　…　should　anyone　try；　she　would　plant　steel　in　their　hearts。　Lace！　As　they　walked；　she　wept　at　how　soft　she　had　bee。
　　　　　　　Huge；　paired　stable　doors　fronted　three　sides　of　the　palace's　largest　stableyard；　the　doorways　crowded　by　servants　in　green…and…white　livery。　Behind　them　in　the　white　stone　stables　waited　horses；　saddled　or　loaded　with　wicker　panniers。　Seabirds　wheeled　and　cried　overhead；　an　unpleasant　reminder　of　how　much　water　lay　nearby。　Heat　shimmered　up　from　pale　paving　stones；　but　it　was　tension　that　thickened　the　air。　Aviendha　had　seen　blood　spilled　where　there　was　less　strain。
　　　　　　　Renaile　din　Calon；　in　red　and　yellow　silks；　arms　crossed　arrogantly　beneath　her　breasts；　stood　before　nineteen　more　barefoot　women　with　tattooed　hands　and　brightly　colored　blouses；　most　in　trousers　and　long　sashes　just　as　brilliant。　Sweat　glistening　on　dark　faces　did　not　lessen　their　grave　dignity。　Some　sniffed　at　lacy　gold　boxes；　filled　with　heavy　scent；　that　hung　about　their　necks。　Five　fat　gold　rings　pierced　each　of　Renaile　din　Calon's　ears；　a　chain　from　one　dripping　medallions　as　it　ran　across　her　left　cheek　to　a　ring　in　her　nose。　The　three　women　close　behind　her　each　wore　eight　earrings　and　slightly　fewer　bits　of　dangling　gold。　That　was　how　the　Sea　Folk　marked　rank　among　themselves；　with　the　women　at　least。　All　deferred　to　Renaile　din　Calon；　Windfinder　to　the　Mistress　of　the　Ships　to　the　Atha'an　Miere；　but　even　the　two　apprentices　at　the　rear；　in　dark　trousers　and　linen　blouses　instead　of　silk；　added　their　own　golden　shimmers　to　the　air。　When　Aviendha　and　the　others　appeared；　Renaile　din　Calon　ostentatiously　looked　to　the　sun；　past　its　noon　peak。　Her　eyebrows　climbed　as　she　directed　her　gaze　back　to　them；　eyes　black　as　her　white…winged　hair；　a　demanding　stare　of　impatience　so　loud　she　might　as　well　have　shouted。
　　　　　　　Elayne　and　Nynaeve　stopped　short；　dragging　Aviendha　to　an　abrupt　halt。　They　exchanged　worried　glances　past　her；　and　deep　sighs。　She　did　not　see　how　they　were　to　escape。　Obligation　bound　her　near…sister　and　Nynaeve　hand　and　foot；　and　they　themselves　had　tied　the　knots　tight。
　　　　　　　〃I'll　see　to　the　Knitting　Circle；〃　Nynaeve　muttered　under　her　breath；　and　Elayne　said；　a　little　more　stoutly；　〃I'll　make　sure　the　sisters　are　ready。〃
　　　　　　　Releasing　her　arms；　they　went　in　opposite　directions；　holding　their　skirts　up　to　step　quickly　and　followed　by　Birgitte　and　Lan。　That　left　her　facing　Renaile　din　Calon's　gaze　alone；　the　eagle　stare　of　a　woman　who　knew　she　held　the　high　ground　and　could　not　be　dislodged。　Fortunately；　the　Windfinder　to　the　Mistress　of　the　Ships　quickly　turned　to　her　panions；　so　quickly　that　the　ends　of　her　long　yellow　sash　swung　wide。　The　other　Windfinders　gathered　around　her；　intent　on　her　quiet　words。　Hitting　her　even　once　would　surely　ruin　everything。　Aviendha　tried　not　to　glare　at　them；　but　as　much　she　attempted　to　look　elsewhere；　her　eyes　returned。　No　one　had　the　right　to　catch　her　near…sister　in　a　cleft　stick。　Nose　rings！　A　good　grip　on　that　chain；　and　Renaile　din　Calon　Blue　Star　would　wear　a　very　different　expression。
　　　　　　　Clustered　together　at　one　end　of　the　stableyard；　tiny　Merilille　Ceandevin　and　four　more　Aes　Sedai　also　regarded　the　Windfinders；　most　with　annoyance　ill…concealed　behind　cool　serenity。　Even　slender　white…haired　Vandene　Namelle　and　her　mirror…image　first…sister　Adeleas；　who　usually　looked　the　most　imperturbable　of　them　all。　Now　and　then　one　or　another　adjusted　a　thin　linen　dust…cloak　or　brushed　at　divided　silk　skirts。　Sudden　gusts　did　raise　a　little　dust　and　stir　the　color…shifting　cloaks　of　the　five　Warders　just　at　their　backs；　yet　clearly　annoyance　moved　their　hands。　Only　Sareitha；　standing　guard　over　a　large　white　disc…shaped　bundle；　did　not　twitch；　but　she　frowned。　Merilille's。。。　maid。。。　Pol；　scowled　from　behind　them。　The　Aes　Sedai　heatedly　disapproved　of　the　bargain　that　had　brought　the　Atha'an　Miere　from　their　ships　and　given　them　a　right　to　stare　at　Aes　Sedai　with　demanding　impatience；　but　that　bargain　tied　the　sisters'　tongues　and　choked　them　on　their　own　irritation。　Which　they　tried　to　hide；　they　might　have　succeeded　with　the　wetlanders。　The　third　group　of　women；　in　a　tight　knot　at　the　opposite　end　of　the　yard；　earned　almost　as　much　of　their　study。
　　　　　　　Reanne　Corly　and　the　other　ten　survivors　of　the　Kin's　Knitting　Circle　stirred　uneasily　under　that　disapproving　scrutiny；　dabbing　their　sweaty　faces　with　embroidered　handkerchiefs；　adjusting　their　broad；　colorful　straw　hats；　smoothing　sober　woolen　skirts　sewn　up　on　one　side　to　expose　layers　of　petticoats　as　bright　as　the　Sea　Folk's　garb。　In　part　it　was　the　stares　of　the　Aes　Sedai　that　had　them　shifting　from　foot　to　foot；　fear　of　the　Forsaken　and　the　gholam　added　to　it；　and　so　did　other　things。　The　narrow；　plunging　necklines　of　those　dresses　should　have　been　enough。　Most　of　these　women　showed　at　least　a　few　lines　on　their　cheeks；　yet　they　looked　like　girls　caught　with　their　hands　full　of　stolen　nutbread。　All　but　stout　Sumeko；　fists　planted　on　broad　hips；　who　met　the　Aes　Sedai　stare　for　stare。　A　bright　glow　of　saidar　surrounded　one　of　their　number；　Kirstian；　who　kept　glancing　over　her　shoulder。　With　a　pale　face　perhaps　ten　years　older　than　Nynaeve's；　she　appeared　out　of　place　among　the　others。　That　face　grew　whiter　every　time　her　black　eyes　met　those　of　an　Aes　Sedai。
　　　　　　　Nynaeve　hurried　to　the　women　who　led　the　Kin；　her　face　beaming　encouragement；　and　Reanne　and　the　others　smiled　with　visible　relief。　Marred　a　little；　true；　by　the　sidelong　glances　they　directed　at　Lan；　him　they　regarded　as　the　wolf　he　resembled。　Nynaeve；　however；　was　the　reason　Sumeko　did　not　wilt　like　the　rest　whenever　an　Aes　Sedai　glanced　in　her　direction。　She　had　vowed　to　teach　those　women　that　they　possessed　backbones；　though　Aviendha　did　not　pletely　understand　why。　Nynaeve　was　Aes　Sedai　herself；　no　Wise　One　would　ever　tell　anyone　to　stand　up　to　Wise　Ones。
　　　　　　　However　well　that　might　be　working　with　respect　to　the　other　Aes　Sedai；　even　Sumeko　wore　a　slightly　fawning　air　for　Nynaeve。　The　Knitting　Circle　found　it　strange；　to　say　the　least；　that　women　as　young　as　Elayne　and　Nynaeve　gave　orders　to　the　other　Aes　Sedai　and　were　obeyed。　Aviendha　herself　found　it　peculiar；　how　could　strength　in　the　Power；　something　you　were　born　with　as　surely　as　your　eyes；　weigh　more　heavily　than　the　honor　that　years　could　bring？　Yet　the　older　Aes　Sedai　did　obey；　and　for　the　Kinswomen；　that　was　enough。　Ieine；　nearly　as　tall　as　Aviendha　herself　and　almost　as　dark　as　the　Sea　Folk；　returned　Nynaeve's　every　glance　with　an　obsequious　smile；　while　Dimana；　white　streaking　her　bright　red　hair；　ducked　her　head　constantly　under　Nynaeve's　eyes；　and　yellow…haired　Sibella　hid　nervous　giggles　behind　a　hand。　Despite　their　Ebou　Dari　garments；　only　Tamarla；　lean　and　olive…skinned；　was　Altaran；　and　not　even　from　the　city。
　　　　　　　They　parted　as　soon　as　Nynaeve　came　close；　revealing　a　woman　on　her　knees；　wrists　bound　behind　her；　a　leather　sack　covering　her　head；　and　her　fine　clothes　torn　and　dusty。　She　was　as　much　the　reason　for　their　uneasiness　as　Merilille's　frowns　or　the　Forsaken。　Perhaps　more。
　　　　　　　Tamarla　dragged　the　hood　off；　leaving　the　woman's　thin；　bead…studded　braids　tangled；　Ispan　Shefar　tried　to　rise；　and　managed　to　reach　an　awkward　crouch　before　she　staggered　and　sank　back　down；　blinking　and　giggling　foolishly。　Sweat　ran　down　her　cheeks；　and　a　few　bruises　from　her　capture　marred　her　ageless　features。　She　had　been　treated　too　gently　for　her　crimes；　to　Aviendha's　mind。
　　　　　　　The　herbs　Nynaeve　had　forced　down　the　woman's　throat　still　fogged　her　wits　as　well　as　weakening　her　knees；　but　Kirstian　held　a　shield　on　her　with　every　shred　of　the　Power　she　could　summon。　There　was　no　chance　the　Shadowrunner　might　escape　…　even　had　she　not　been　dosed；　Kirstian　was　as　strong　in　the　Power　as　Reanne；　stronger　than