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Perrin scowled before he could stop himself. Berelain had told her a great deal about him? What had she said? "The ba
Alliandre sipped delicately at her wine-punch before speaking, and again she dodged the question. "There are a thousand rumors, as you must know, and even the wildest is believable when the Dragon is Reborn, strangers appear claiming to be Artur Hawkwing’s armies returned, and the Tower itself is broken by rebellion."
"A matter for Aes Sedai," A
Alliandre flinched and turned her shoulder to the sister. Queen or not, no one wanted to hear that tone from an Aes Sedai. "The world is turned upside down, Lord Aybara. Why, I’ve even had reports of Aiel sacking a village right here in Ghealdan." Abruptly Perrin realized there was more here than anxiety over offending Aes Sedai. Alliandre watched him, waiting. But for what? Reassurance?
"The only Aiel in Ghealdan are with me," he told her. "The Seanchan may be descendants of Artur Hawkwing’s army, but Hawkwing is a thousand years dead. Rand dealt with them once already, and he will again." He remembered Falme as clearly as Dumai’s Wells, though he had tried forgetting. Surely there had not been enough of them there to take Amador andEbou Dar, even with their damane. Balwer claimed they had Taraboner soldiers, too. "And it might cheer you to hear that those rebel Aes Sedai support Rand. They will, soon, at least." That was what Rand said, a handful of Aes Sedai with nowhere to go except to him. Perrin was not so sure. Rumor in Ghealdan put an army with those sisters. Of course, the same rumors counted more Aes Sedai in that handful than there were in the world, but still... Light, he wished someone would reassure him! "Why don’t we sit," he said. "I’ll answer any questions you have, to help you make your decision, but we might as well be comfortable." Drawing one of the folding chairs to him, he remembered at the last instant not to just drop into it, but it creaked under him just the same.
Lini and the other two servants rushed about, pulling chairs into a circle with his, but none of the other women moved toward them. Alliandre stood looking at him, and the rest looked at her. Except for Galle
It came to Perrin that Faile had not opened her mouth since speaking of the merchants. He was as grateful for Berelain’s silence as he was that she had not decided to flutter her lashes at him in front of the Queen, but he could have used some help from Faile right then. A little advice. Light, she knew ten times what he did about what he should say and do here.
Wondering whether he should stand with the others, he set his wine-punch on one of the small tables and asked her to speak to Alliandre. "If anyone can make her see the right way to go, you can," he said. Faile gave him a pleased smile, but held her tongue.
Abruptly Alliandre put out her cup to one side without looking, as if expecting a tray to be there. One was, barely in time to catch the cup, and Maighdin, who held it, muttered something Perrin hoped Faile had not heard. Faile was death on servants using that sort of language. He started to rise as Alliandre approached him, but to his shock, she knelt gracefully in front of him, catching his hands with hers. Before he knew what she was doing, she twisted so her hands were back-to-back between his palms. She clung so hard her hands must have hurt; for sure, he was not certain he could loose himself without hurting her.
"Under the Light," she said firmly, looking up at him, "I, Alliandre Maritha Kigarin, pledge my fealty and service to Lord Perrin Aybara of the Two Rivers, now and for all time, save that he chooses to release me of his own will. My lands and throne are his, and I yield them to his hand. So I do swear."
For an instant there was a silence broken only by Galle
Then Perrin heard Faile, once more whispering so softly no one next to her could have made out her words. "Under the Light, I do accept your pledge and will defend and protect you and yours through battle’s wrack and winter’s blast and all that time may bring. The lands and throne of Ghealdan, I give to you as my faithful vassal. Under the Light, I do accept... " That must have been the Saldaean ma
"Why?" he asked gently, ignoring Faile’s frustrated hiss and Berelain’s exasperated grunt alike. Burn me, he thought, I’m a bloody blacksmith!Nobody swore fealty to blacksmiths. Queens did not swear fealty to anyone! "I’ve been told I’m ta’veren; you might want to reconsider this in an hour."
"I hope you are ta’veren, my Lord." Alliandre laughed, but not in amusement, and gripped his hands even more tightly, as though fearful he might pull away. "With all my heart, I hope it. I fear nothing less will save Ghealdan. I all but reached this decision as soon as the First told me why you are here, and meeting you only confirmed me in it. Ghealdan needs protection I ca
Still, he hesitated. This was everything Rand could want and more, but Perrin Aybara was just a blacksmith. He was! Could he still tell himself that if he did this thing? Alliandre stared up at him pleadingly. Did ta’verenwork on themselves, he wondered. "Under the Light, I, Perrin Aybara, accept your pledge... " His throat was dry by the time he finished the words Faile had whispered. Too late to stop and think now.
With a gasp of relief, Alliandre kissed his hands. Perrin did not think he had ever been so embarrassed in his life. Standing hurriedly, he drew her to her feet. And realized he did not know what to do next. A proudly beaming Faile whispered no further hints. Berelain smiled, too, relief so strong on her face she might have just been pulled from a fire.
He was sure A
Perrin knew he was taking too long. Alliandre licked her lips anxiously; she expected more, but what? "Now that we’re done here, I have to find the Prophet next," he said, and winced. Too abrupt. He had no feel for dealing with nobles, much less queens. "I suppose you’ll want to get back to Bethal before anyone learns you’re gone."