rj.thepathofdaggers-第104章

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hear。　We　ought　to　march　on　Caemlyn　and　drive　him　and　all　them　Aiel　back　where　they　e　from。　Then　Elayne　can　claim　the　throne　her　own　self。　If　Dyelin　lets　her　keep　it；　anyway。〃
　　　　　　　Elayne　heard　a　great　deal　about　Rand；　rumors　ranging　from　him　swearing　fealty　to　Elaida　to　him　being　the　King　of　Illian；　of　all　things。　In　Andor；　he　was　blamed　for　everything　bad　that　happened　for　the　last　two　or　three　years；　including　stillbirths　and　broken　legs；　infestations　of　grasshoppers；　two…headed　calves；　and　three…legged　chickens。　And　even　people　who　thought　her　mother　had　ruined　the　country　and　an　end　to　the　reign　of　House　Trakand　was　good　riddance　still　believed　Rand　al'Thor　an　invader。　The　Dragon　Reborn　was　supposed　to　fight　the　Dark　One　at　Shayol　Ghul；　and　he　should　be　driven　out　of　Andor。　Not　what　she　had　hoped　to　hear；　not　a　bit　of　it。　But　she　heard　it　all　again　and　again。　It　was　not　a　pleasant　journey　at　all。　It　was　one　long　lesson　in　one　of　Lini's　favorite　sayings。　It　isn't　the　stone　you　see　that　trips　you　on　your　nose。
　　　　　　　She　thought　a　number　of　things　beside　the　nobles　might　cause　trouble；　some　sure　to　be　explosions　as　great　as　the　gateway。　The　Windfinders；　smug　in　the　bargain　made　with　Nynaeve　and　herself；　behaved　in　an　irritatingly　superior　manner　toward　the　Aes　Sedai；　especially　after　it　came　out　that　Merilille　had　let　herself　agree　to　be　one　of　the　first　sisters　to　go　the　ships。　Yet　if　the　sizzling　there　continued　like　the　burning　of　an　Illuminator's　fuse…cord；　the　explosion　never　quite　came。　The　Windfinders　and　the　Kinswomen；　in　particular　the　Knitting　Circle；　seemed　as　certain　to　blow　up。　They　cut　one　another　dead　when　not　sneering　openly；　the　Kin　at　〃Sea　Folk　wilders　getting　above　themselves；〃　the　Windfinders　at　〃cringing　sandlappers　kissing　Aes　Sedai　feet。〃　But　it　never　went　beyond　lips　curled　or　daggers　caressed。
　　　　　　　Ispan　certainly　presented　problems　that　Elayne　was　sure　would　grow；　yet　after　a　few　days；　Vandene　and　Adeleas　let　her　ride　unhooded　if　not　unshielded；　a　silent　figure　with　colored　beads　in　her　thin　braids；　ageless　face　turned　down　and　hands　still　on　her　reins。　Renaile　told　everyone　who　would　listen　that　among　the　Atha'an　Miere；　a　Darkfriend　was　stripped　of　his　or　her　names　as　soon　as　proven　guilty；　then　thrown　over　the　side　tied　to　ballast　stones。　Among　the　Kinswomen；　even　Reanne　and　Alise　paled　every　time　they　saw　the　Taraboner　woman。　But　Ispan　grew　meeker　and　meeker；　eager　to　please　and　full　of　ingratiating　smiles　for　the　two　white…haired　sisters　no　matter　what　it　was　they　did　to　her　when　they　carried　her　away　from　the　others　at　night。　On　the　other　hand；　Adeleas　and　Vandene　grew　more　and　more　frustrated。　Adeleas　told　Nynaeve　in　Elayne's　hearing　that　the　woman　spilled　out　volumes　about　old　plots　of　the　Black　Ajah；　those　she　had　not　been　involved　in　much　more　enthusiastically　than　those　she　was；　yet　even　when　they　pressed　her　hard　…　Elayne　could　not　quite　make　herself　ask　how　they　pressed　…　and　she　let　slip　the　names　of　Darkfriends；　most　were　certainly　dead　and　none　was　a　sister。　Vandene　said　they　were　beginning　to　fear　she　had　taken　an　Oath　…　the　capital　was　audible　…　against　betraying　her　cohorts。　They　continued　to　isolate　Ispan　as　much　as　possible　and　continued　with　their　questions；　but　it　was　plain　they　were　feeling　their　way　blindly；　now；　and　carefully。
　　　　　　　And　there　was　Nynaeve；　and　Lan。　Most　definitely　Nynaeve　and　Lan；　with　her　near　to　bursting　at　the　effort　of　holding　her　temper　around　him；　mooning　over　him　when　they　had　to　sleep　apart　…　which　was　nearly　always；　the　way　acmodations　divided　up　…　and　torn　between　eager　and　afraid　when　she　could　sneak　him　off　to　a　hayloft。　It　was　her　own　fault　for　choosing　a　Sea　Folk　wedding；　in　Elayne's　estimation。　The　Sea　Folk　believed　in　hierarchy　as　they　did　in　the　sea；　and　they　knew　a　woman　and　her　husband　might　be　promoted　one　past　the　other　many　times　in　their　lives。　Their　marriage　rites　took　that　into　account。　Whoever　had　the　right　to　mand　in　public；　must　obey　in　private。　Lan　never　took　advantage；　so　Nynaeve　said　…　〃not　really；〃　whatever　that　was　supposed　to　mean！　She　always　blushed　when　she　said　it　…　but　she　kept　waiting　for　him　to　do　so；　and　he　just　seemed　to　grow　more　and　more　amused。　This　amusement；　of　course；　screwed　Nynaeve's　temper　to　a　fever　pitch。　Nynaeve　did　erupt；　out　of　all　the　explosions　Elayne　had　expected。　She　snapped　at　anyone　and　everyone　who　got　in　her　way。　Except　at　Lan；　with　him；　she　was　all　honey　and　cream。　And　not　at　Alise。　She　came　close　once　or　twice；　but　even　Nynaeve　could　not　seem　to　make　herself　snap　at　Alise。
　　　　　　　Elayne　had　hopes；　not　worries；　about　the　things　brought　out　of　the　Rahad　along　with　the　Bowl　of　the　Winds。　Aviendha　helped　her　search；　and　so　did　Nynaeve　once　or　twice；　but　she　was　entirely　too　slow　and　ginger　about　it　and　showed　little　skill　at　finding　what　they　were　searching　for。　They　found　no　more　angreal；　yet　the　collection　of　ter'angreal　grew；　once　all　the　rubbish　had　been　thrown　away；　objects　that　used　the　One　Power　filled　five　entire　panniers　on　the　packhorses。
　　　　　　　Careful　as　Elayne　was；　though；　her　attempts　to　study　them　did　not　go　so　well。　Spirit　was　the　safest　of　the　Five　Powers　to　use　in　this　…　unless；　of　course；　Spirit　happened　to　be　what　triggered　the　thing！　…　yet　at　times　she　had　to　use　other　flows；　as　fine　as　she　could　weave。　Sometimes　her　delicate　probing　did　nothing；　but　her　first　touch　at　the　thing　that　looked　like　a　blacksmith's　puzzle　made　of　glass　left　her　dizzy　and　unable　to　sleep　for　half　the　night；　and　a　thread　of　Fire　touching　what　looked　like　a　helmet　made　of　fluffy　metal　feathers　gave　everyone　within　twenty　paces　a　blinding　headache。　Except　for　herself。　And　then　there　was　the　crimson　rod　that　felt　hot。　Hot；　in　a　way。
　　　　　　　Sitting　on　the　edge　of　her　bed　at　an　inn　called　The　Wild　Boar；　she　examined　the　smooth　rod　by　the　light　of　two　polished　brass　lamps。　Wrist…thick　and　a　foot　long；　it　looked　like　stone；　but　felt　firm　rather　than　hard。　She　was　alone；　since　the　helmet；　she　had　tried　to　do　her　studying　away　from　the　others。　The　heat　of　the　rod　made　her　think　of　Fire。。。
　　　　　　　Blinking；　she　opened　her　eyes　and　sat　up　in　the　bed。　Sunlight　streamed　in　at　the　window。　She　was　in　her　shift；　and　Nynaeve；　fully　dressed；　stood　frowning　down　at　her。　Aviendha　and　Birgitte　were　watching　from　beside　the　door。
　　　　　　　〃What　happened？〃　Elayne　demanded；　and　Nynaeve　shook　her　head　grimly。
　　　　　　　〃You　don't　want　to　know。〃　Her　lips　twitched。
　　　　　　　Aviendha's　face　gave　away　nothing。　Birgitte's　mouth　might　have　been　a　little　tight；　but　the　strongest　emotion　Elayne　felt　from　her　was　a　bination　of　relief　and　…　hilarity！　The　woman　was　doing　her　utmost　not　to　roll　on　the　floor　laughing！
　　　　　　　The　worst　of　it　was；　no　one　would　tell　what　had　happened。　What　she　had　said；　or　done；　she　was　sure　it　was　that；　by　the　quickly　hidden　grins　she　saw；　from　Kinswomen　and　Windfinders　as　well　as　sisters。　But　no　one　would　tell　her！　After　that；　she　decided　to　leave　studying　the　ter'angreal　to　somewhere　more　fortable　than　a　inn。　Somewhere　definitely　more　private！
　　　　　　　Nine　days　after　their　flight　from　Ebou　Dar；　scattered　clouds　appeared　in　the　sky　and　a　sprinkling　of　fat　raindrops　splashed　dust　in　the　road。　An　intermittent　drizzle　fell　the　next　day；　and　the　day　after；　a　deluge　kept　them　huddled　in　the　houses　and　stables　of　Forel　Market。　That　night；　the　rain　turned　to　sleet；　and　by　morning；　thick　flurries　of　snow　drifted　from　a　cloud…dark　sky。　More　than　halfway　to　Caemlyn；　Elayne　began　to　wonder　whether　they　could　make　it　in　two　weeks　from　where　they　stood。
　　　　　　　With　the　snow；　clothes　became　a　worry。　Elayne　blamed　herself　for　not　thinking　of　the　fact　that　everyone　might　need　warm　clothes　before　they　reached　their　destination。　Nynaeve　blamed　herself　for　not　thinking　of　it。　Merilille　thought　she　was　at　fault；　and　Reanne　thought　she　was。　They　actually　stood　in　the　main　street　of　Forel　Market　that　morning　with　snowflakes　drifting　down　on　their　heads；　arguing　over　who　could　claim　the　blame。　Elayne　was　not　sure　which　of　them　saw　the　absurdity　first；　who　was　the　first　to　laugh；　but　all　were　laughing　as　they　settled　around　a　table　in　The　White　Swan　to　decide　what　to　do。　A　solution　turned　out　to　be　no　laughing　matter。　Providing