Knife of Dreams

“If she tries to goad us, why should we bite our tongues?” Catalyn demanded. Her red dress, embroidered with broad bands of gold at the hem and on the sleeves, did not suit her coloring, especially when her plump cheeks were crimson with anger. Her chin was raised. Perhaps she wore that large enameled pin bearing Haevin’s Blue Bear where she did so she would be forced to keep her chin high and look down her nose at everyone. “I’ve never allowed anyone to poke at me and walk away unscathed.”

“An ox responds to the goad and does as the ox-herd wants,” Dyelin said drily. “The same way you will be doing what Ellorien wants if you respond to her goads.” The crimson remained in Catalyn’s cheeks, no doubt from embarrassment, now.

Reene Harfor appeared in the doorway. “My Ladies,” she said loudly, her voice echoing in the nearly empty chamber. “My Lords.”

This was informality, when two sides met and there was no knowing how far apart they were. Mistress Harfor a

“Be welcome,” she told them as their servants peeled away to join the others. “Will you take wine, or tea? The wine is hot and spiced. This seems a wintery day for spring.”

Luan opened his mouth, but Ellorien spoke first. “At least you’re not sitting on the throne.” Her face might have been carved from marble, and her voice was that hard and cold. “I half expected you to be.” Thunder rolled overhead.

Luan looked pained. Arathelle rolled her eyes as if she were hearing something she had heard all too often before. Lir stirred, but Elayne fixed him with a steady look, and he gave a small, apologetic bow.

“I have no right to sit on the throne, Ellorien,” she replied calmly. Light, please let her mood hold steady now. “Yet.” There was an unintended touch of bite in that. Perhaps she was not so calm as she wished to be.

Ellorien sneered. “If you’re waiting for Danine to make your ten, you’ll have a long wait. Danine spent the last Succession visiting her manors. She never declared for anyone.”

Elayne smiled, but it was difficult. A Succession was when one House succeeded another on the throne. “I will have tea.”

Ellorien blinked, but it sparked the others to a

“I see you’ve gathered most of your support among the children and Arymilla’s leavings,” Ellorien said. Catalyn turned as red as her dress, and Branlet straightened angrily, until Perival put a hand on his arm and shook his head. A level-headed boy, Perival, and bright beyond his years. Lir managed to restrain himself this time, but Conail started to say something sharp before Elayne’s firm look snapped his teeth shut. Karind merely returned Ellorien’s spiteful stare stolidly. Karind was not very intelligent, but little ruffled her.

“You must have had a reason for asking this meeting,” Elayne said. “If it was merely to offer insults…” She let that trail off. She had her own reasons for wanting this meeting. If they had asked for her to come to them, she would have. Without asking for safe conduct. Feeling a pulse of anger through the bond, she took a firm rein on hers. Birgitte wore a scowl directed ac Ellorien like a dagger. If they began feeding one another’s temper… That did not bear thinking about, not here, not now.

Ellorien opened her mouth again, and this time, Luan cut her off. “We’ve come to ask for a truce. Elayne.” A flash of lightning lit the northern windows, and those in the ceiling, but the interval to thunder said it had been some distance off.

“A truce? Are we at war, Luan? Has someone declared for the throne that I haven’t heard of?” Six sets of eyes swung to Dyelin, who grunted.

“Fools. I told you and told you, and you wouldn’t believe me. Perhaps you’ll believe this. When Sylvase, Karind and Lir sent their proclamations of support, I sent my own. Taravin stands for Trakand, and the whole of Andor will know it soon enough.”

Ellorien colored angrily and managed to make even that seem cold. Aemlyn took a long drink, looking thoughtful. Arathelle allowed a touch of disappointment to touch her face before it returned to a mask nearly as hard as Ellorien’s.

“Be that as it may,” Luan said, “we still want… if not a truce, then a temporary agreement.” He drank a small swallow from his winecup and shook his head sadly. “Even gathering everything we can, we’ll have a difficult time defeating the Borderlanders, but if we fail to act together, they’ll carve up Andor once they decide to move. Frankly, I’m surprised they’ve remained in one place this long. Their men ought to be well rested by now even after a thousand-league march.” Lightning lit the southern windows brightly, and thunder crashed so loudly it seemed the glass panes should shiver. Close, that one.

“I expected them to be into Murandy by now myself.” Elayne said. “But I believe their reason for sitting in one place is a fear of sparking a war if they come too near Caemlyn. They seem to be trying to find a way to Murandy using country roads. You know what condition those are in this time of year. They want no war with us. When I gave them permission to cross Andor, they told me they were looking for the Dragon Reborn.”

Ellorien spluttered, and chips of ice should have come from her mouth. “When you what} You prate of how you have no right to sit on the throne-yet-and then you arrogate to yourself the right of-!”

“Of an Aes Sedai. Ellorien.” Elayne held up her right hand so they could not miss the golden Great Serpent encircling the third finger. Her own voice was frosty despite all she could do. “I did not speak as Daughter-Heir or even High Seat of House Trakand. I spoke as Elayne Aes Sedai of the Green Ajah. Had I not, they would have come anyway. They were very short of food and fodder. Had I tried to stop them, had anyone tried to stop them, there would have been war. They are determined to find the Dragon Reborn. It would have been a war Andor had faint chance of wi