OOM: Meanwhile, Back on the Wheel, or Saving Lan from Himself

Loversknot had been waiting for her on the other side of the door. If she'd not just been to the bar at the end of the universe, there would have been a great deal more startlement in her manner. Several moments passed, most of them used to straighten her skirts and compose herself. Then she'd mounted up, more clumsy than normal, and headed west. The ride was not long.

Long enough for too many thoughts, Light burn them to ashes.

It takes only a little longer for her careful questions to point her toward The Queen's Lance.

Now remember, this is no time to act a woolheaded fool. You are Aes Sedai, and Lan's wife, and you cannot afford to waver. He cannot afford to have you waver.

She takes a deep breath, smooths her skirts, and heads inside. The man she is looking for proves easy enough to find--tall, older than Lan, and wearing the hadori.

She glides toward him, leaning on the table. "Master Aldragoran? You were pointed out to me as a merchant with a wide correspondence by pigeon."

He looks at her, then, and she can practically see the assessment as he makes them. Jewelry first--in a merchant this is no great surprise. Though she imagines that, if he knew the nature of them, he would be less cursory in his appraisal. The widening of his eyes as he catches sight of Great Serpent ring is obvious, and not unexpected, as is the slight frown he wears as he looks at her too-young face. SHe imagines gritting her teeth, but her jaw doesn't move. There is no room for temper, here--she lets it feed her purpose instead.

They do not exchange pleasantries, keeping strictly to the business of passing messages. And then she pulls Lan's ring from inside the collar of her dress, holding carefully to the thong it dangles from.

Light burn you, woman, you will not weep.

"My name is Nynaeve ti al'Meara Mandragoran. The message I want sent is this. My husband rides from World's End toward Tarwin's Gap, toward Tarmon Gai'don. Will he ride alone?" Light, let this man give the answer she needs to hear.

Do not make him ride alone. Malkier is not dead, not so long as one of its sons wears the hadori, so long as one of its daughters wears the ki'sain.

Apparently it is not to be. "Malkier is dead," Aldragoran says, "Dead, I tell you."

Nynaeve's hand grips her braid as she leans forward more, eyes blazing, temper up but held in with the last vestiges of her control. There will be time later to scream, if she must.

"I wear the ki'sain, Master Aldragoran. My husband wears the hadori. So do you. Will Lan Mandragoran ride to the Last Battle alone?"

At this moment she wants to box his ears, then drag him after her. But no--that will not do, bloody proud fools that men are.

And then he says it, the words that bring such relief to Nynaeve she finds it amazing her knees are still holding firm. "I cannot stand surety for anyone else, but I swear to you under the Light and by my hope of rebirth and salvation, he will not ride alone."

He will not ride alone. Not alone. Oh, Light save us all. But I am not done yet.

She squares her shoulders, nodding once. "Thank you, Master Aldragoran, but I have several more towns to visit today, and I must be back in Tear tonight."

Even taking one day might be too much. Or not enough. Light, so much uncertainty--there never used to be this much.

The stakes, of course, have never been this high before. Save, perhaps, during another turning of the Wheel. She pulls her cloak on, straightening its folds as she glides toward the door.

Nynaeve has a promise to keep, if only one she made to herself. She also has a long way to go before she might see her bed again. Longer still until she will see her husband. But some things must be borne--and better this than the loss of him altogether. Better this by far.

Yes.

OOM: Meanwhile, Back on the Wheel, or Saving Lan from Himself

Loversknot had been waiting for her on the other side of the door. If she'd not just been to the bar at the end of the universe, there would have been a great deal more startlement in her manner. Several moments passed, most of them used to straighten her skirts and compose herself. Then she'd mounted up, more clumsy than normal, and headed west. The ride was not long.

Long enough for too many thoughts, Light burn them to ashes.

It takes only a little longer for her careful questions to point her toward The Queen's Lance.

Now remember, this is no time to act a woolheaded fool. You are Aes Sedai, and Lan's wife, and you cannot afford to waver. He cannot afford to have you waver.

She takes a deep breath, smooths her skirts, and heads inside. The man she is looking for proves easy enough to find--tall, older than Lan, and wearing the hadori.

She glides toward him, leaning on the table. "Master Aldragoran? You were pointed out to me as a merchant with a wide correspondence by pigeon."

He looks at her, then, and she can practically see the assessment as he makes them. Jewelry first--in a merchant this is no great surprise. Though she imagines that, if he knew the nature of them, he would be less cursory in his appraisal. The widening of his eyes as he catches sight of Great Serpent ring is obvious, and not unexpected, as is the slight frown he wears as he looks at her too-young face. SHe imagines gritting her teeth, but her jaw doesn't move. There is no room for temper, here--she lets it feed her purpose instead.

They do not exchange pleasantries, keeping strictly to the business of passing messages. And then she pulls Lan's ring from inside the collar of her dress, holding carefully to the thong it dangles from.

Light burn you, woman, you will not weep.

"My name is Nynaeve ti al'Meara Mandragoran. The message I want sent is this. My husband rides from World's End toward Tarwin's Gap, toward Tarmon Gai'don. Will he ride alone?" Light, let this man give the answer she needs to hear.

Do not make him ride alone. Malkier is not dead, not so long as one of its sons wears the hadori, so long as one of its daughters wears the ki'sain.

Apparently it is not to be. "Malkier is dead," Aldragoran says, "Dead, I tell you."

Nynaeve's hand grips her braid as she leans forward more, eyes blazing, temper up but held in with the last vestiges of her control. There will be time later to scream, if she must.

"I wear the ki'sain, Master Aldragoran. My husband wears the hadori. So do you. Will Lan Mandragoran ride to the Last Battle alone?"

At this moment she wants to box his ears, then drag him after her. But no--that will not do, bloody proud fools that men are.

And then he says it, the words that bring such relief to Nynaeve she finds it amazing her knees are still holding firm. "I cannot stand surety for anyone else, but I swear to you under the Light and by my hope of rebirth and salvation, he will not ride alone."

He will not ride alone. Not alone. Oh, Light save us all. But I am not done yet.

She squares her shoulders, nodding once. "Thank you, Master Aldragoran, but I have several more towns to visit today, and I must be back in Tear tonight."

Even taking one day might be too much. Or not enough. Light, so much uncertainty--there never used to be this much.

The stakes, of course, have never been this high before. Save, perhaps, during another turning of the Wheel. She pulls her cloak on, straightening its folds as she glides toward the door.

Nynaeve has a promise to keep, if only one she made to herself. She also has a long way to go before she might see her bed again. Longer still until she will see her husband. But some things must be borne--and better this than the loss of him altogether. Better this by far.

Yes.