Страница 76 из 154
Drawing off his gauntlets, Rand waved away Boreane’s tray. Damer Fli
Fli
"Wasn’t he, now," Rand said softly, tucking his gloves behind his sword belt. And because Fli
Fli
The council tent was a large red-striped pavilion that had once sat on the Plains of Maredo, now pitched in the middle of Rand’s encampment, surrounded by thirty paces of bare ground. There were never guards here, not unless Rand was meeting with the nobles. Anyone trying to slip in would have been seen instantly by a thousand prying eyes. Three ba
Torval lifted his head from the maps, plainly ready to give the rough side of his tongue to whoever had barged in on him. Close to his middle years and tall beside anyone save Rand or an Aiel, he stared coldly down a sharp nose that practically quivered with indignation. The Dragon and the Sword glistened on his coat collar in the light of the stand-lamps. A silk coat, shining black, cut fine enough for a lord. His sword had silver mountings washed with gold, and a glittering red gem capped the hilt. Another gleamed darkly on a finger ring. You could not train men to be weapons without expecting a certain amount of arrogance, yet Rand did not like Torval. But then, he had no need of Lews Therin’s voice to be suspicious of any man in a black coat. How far did he truly trust even Fli
When Torval saw Rand, he straightened casually and saluted, but his expression barely changed. He had had a sneering mouth the first time Rand ever saw him. "My Lord Dragon," he said in the accents of Tarabon, and he might have been greeting an equal. Or being gracious to an inferior. His swaggering bow took in Hopwil and Dashiva as well. "I give congratulations on the conquest of Illian. A great victory, yes? There would have been wine to greet you, but this young... Dedicated... does not seem to understand orders."
In the corner, silver bells on the ends of Narishma’s two long dark braids made a faint sound as he shifted. He had ta
"What are you doing here, Torval?" Rand asked roughly. He tossed the Dragon Scepter and his gauntlets down atop the maps and followed them with his sword belt and scabbarded sword. The maps that Torval had no reason to be studying. No need of Lews Therin’s voice.
With a shrug, Torval produced a letter from his coat pocket and handed it to Rand. "The M’Hael, he sent this." The paper was snowy white and thick, the seal a dragon impressed in a large oval of blue wax that glittered with golden flecks. It might almost have been thought to come from the Dragon Reborn. Taim did think well of himself. "The M’Hael said to tell you the tales of Aes Sedai in Murandy with an army, they are true. Rumor says they are rebels against Tar Valon" – Torval’s sneer thickened with disbelief – "but they are marching toward the Black Tower. Soon, they may become a danger, yes?"
Rand cracked the magnificent seal to bits between his fingers. "They’re going to Caemlyn, not the Black Tower, and they’re no threat. My orders were clear. Leave Aes Sedai alone unless they come after you."
"But how can you be sure they are not a threat?" Torval persisted. "Perhaps they are going to Caemlyn, as you say, but if you are wrong, we’ll not know before they attack us."
"Torval might be right," Dashiva put in thoughtfully. "I can’t say I’d trust women who put me in a box, and these haven’t sworn any oaths. Or have they?"
"I said leave them alone!" Rand slapped the tabletop, hard, and Hopwil jumped in surprise. Dashiva frowned with irritation before hurriedly smoothing it over, but Rand was not interested in Dashiva’s moods. By chance – he was sure it was chance – his hand had come down on the Dragon Scepter. His arm trembled with the desire to take it up and stab Torval through the heart. No need for Lews Therin at all. "The Asha’man are a weapon to be aimed where I say, not to flutter around like hens every time Taim gets frightened over a handful of Aes Sedai having di
"I am sure there is no need of that," Torval said quickly. At last something had wiped the wry twist from his mouth. Eyes tight, he spread his hands, close to diffident, very nearly apologetic. And plainly frightened. "The M’Hael, he merely wanted you informed. Your orders are read aloud every day at Morning Directives, after the Creed."
"That’s good, then." Rand kept his voice cool, kept a scowl from his face by main effort. It was his precious M’Hael the man feared, not the Dragon Reborn. Afraid Taim would take it amiss if something he had said brought Rand’s anger on Taim’s head. "Because I’ll kill any one of you who goes near those women in Murandy. You cut where Idirect."
Torval bowed rigidly, murmuring, "As you say, my Lord Dragon." His teeth were bared in an attempted smile, but his nose was pinched, and he struggled to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes while seeming to avoid nothing. Dashiva yelped another laugh, and Hopwil wore a small grin.
Narishma was not enjoying Torval’s discomfort, though, or paying it attention. He looked at Rand without blinking, as though he sensed deep currents that the rest missed. Most women and no few men thought him just a pretty boy, but those too-big eyes sometimes seemed more knowing than any others.