Lord of Chaos

The young fool would have been willing to die fighting the usurper even after she discovered that no House in Andor would support her, and day by day, week by week since she had decided her only choice was to seek foreign aid, he had grown more insolent and insubordinate. She could ask Ailron for Tallanvor’s head, and receive it with no questions asked. But just because they were unasked did not mean they would be unthought. She truly was a beggar here, and could not afford to ask one favor more than absolutely necessary. Besides, without Tallanvor, she would not be here. She would be a prisoner – worse than a prisoner – to Lord Gaebril. Those were the only reasons Tallanvor would keep his head.

Her army guarded the ornately carved doors to her apartments. Basel Gill was a pink-cheeked man with graying hair combed vainly back over a bald spot. His leather jerkin, sewn with steel discs, strained around his girth, and he wore a sword he had not touched in twenty years before belting it on to follow her. Lamgwin was bulky and hard, though heavy-lidded eyes made him look half-asleep. He wore a sword too, but the scars on his face and a nose broken more than once made it plain he was used to employing fists, or a cudgel. An i

The pair were all awkward bows, but she glided past and slammed the door in Tallanvor’s face. "The world," she a

"An emptier place, certainly," Morgase’s old nurse said from her chair beside a velvet-draped anteroom window. With her head bent over her embroidery hoop, Lini’s gray bun waggled in the air. A reed-thin woman, she was not nearly so frail as she looked. "I assume Ailron was no more forthcoming today? Or is it Tallanvor, child? You must learn not to let men put you in a fret. Fretting makes your face blotchy." Lini still would not admit that she was out of the nursery, despite having been nurse to Morgase’s daughter in turn.

"Ailron was charming," Morgase said carefully. The third woman in the room, on her knees taking folded bedsheets from a chest, sniffed loudly, and Morgase avoided glaring at her with an effort. Breane was Lamgwin’s... companion. The short sunta

‘"A slow horse does not always reach the end of the journey," Lini quoted, still intent on her embroidery. She was very fond of old sayings, some of which Morgase suspected her of making up on the spot.

"This one will," Morgase insisted. Tallanvor was wrong about Ghealdan; according to Ailron, that country was in near anarchy because of this Prophet all the servants whispered about, the fellow preaching the Rebirth of the Dragon. "I would like some punch, Breane." The woman only looked at her until she added, "If you please." Even then she set about the pouring with a wooden sulkiness.

The mixture of wine and fruit juices was iced, and refreshing in the heat; the silver goblet felt good against Morgase’s forehead. Ailron had snow and ice brought down from the Mountains of Mist, though it took nearly a steady stream of wagons to provide enough for the palace.

Lini took a goblet, too. "Concerning Tallanvor," she began after a sip.

"Leave over, Lini!" Morgase snapped.

"So he is younger than you," Breane said. She had poured for herself, as well. The effrontery of the woman! She was supposed to be a servant, whatever she had been in Cairhien. "If you want him, take him. Lamgwin says he is sworn to you, and I have seen him look at you." She laughed huskily. "He will not refuse." Cairhienin were disgusting, but at least most of them kept their dissolute ways decently hidden.

Morgase was about to order her from the room when a knock came at the door. Without waiting permission, a white haired man who looked all sinew and bone entered. His snowy cloak was emblazoned with a flaring golden sun on the breast. She had hoped to avoid Whitecloaks until she had Ailron’s seal on a firm agreement. The chill of the wine abruptly passed straight into her bones. Where were Tallanvor and the others, that he had walked right in?

Dark eyes going straight to her, he made the most minimal of bows. His face was aged, the skin drawn tight, but this man was as feeble as a hammer. "Morgase of Andor?" he said in a firm deep voice. "I am Pedron Niall." Not just any Whitecloak; the Lord Captain Commander of the Children of the Light himself. "Do not fear. I have not come to arrest you."

Morgase held herself straight. "Arrest me? On what charge? I ca

"Tower trained," Niall murmured. "That is forbidden, as well. But as I said, I come not to arrest, but to help. Send your women away, and we will talk." He made himself at home, taking a tall padded armchair and flipping his cloak over the back. "I will have some of that punch before they go." To Morgase’s displeasure, Breane brought him a goblet immediately, eyes down and face as expressionless as a board.

Morgase made an effort to take back control. "They stay, Master Niall." She would not give this man the satisfaction of a title. The lack did not appear to faze him. "What has happened to my men outside? I will hold it against you if they’ve been harmed. And why do you think I need your help?"

"Your men are uninjured," he said dismissively over his punch. "Do you think Ailron will give you what you need? You are a beautiful woman, Morgase, and Ailron prizes women with sun-gold hair. He will come a little closer each day to the agreement you seek, never quite reaching it, until you decide that perhaps, with... a certain sacrifice, he will yield also. But he will come no nearer what you want, whatever you give. This so-called Prophet’s mobs ravage the north of Amadicia. To the west lies Tarabon, with a ten-sided civil war, brigands sworn to the so-called Dragon Reborn, and rumors of Aes Sedai and the false Dragon himself to frighten Ailron. Give you soldiers? Could he find ten men for every one he has under arms now, or even two, he would mortgage his soul. But I can send five thousand Children of the Light riding to Caemlyn with you at their head if you but ask."

To say she was stu

This time he grimaced. Whitecloaks did not like that name. "Gaebril? Your lover is dead, Morgase. The false Dragon Rand al’Thor has added Caemlyn to his conquests." Lini made a faint noise as if she had pricked herself, but he kept his eyes on Morgase.