Page 58 of The Gathering Storm (The Wheel of Time 12)

Keep focused, she told herself. Clean the patch of floor you’re working on first before you move on to the rest of the house. Gawyn could look after himself; he’d done a competent job of that in the past. Too competent, in some cases.

Siuan and the others would deal with the Asha’man matter. The other news was far more disturbing. One of the Forsaken, in the camp? A woman, yet channeling saidin instead of saidar? Egwene would have called it impossible, once. Yet she had seen ghosts in the halls of the White Tower, and the corridors seemed to rearrange on a daily basis. This was just another sign.

She shivered. Halima had touched Egwene, supposedly massaging her headaches away. Those headaches disappeared as soon as Egwene had been captured; why hadn’t she considered that Halima might have been causing them? What else had the woman been plotting? What hidden knots would the Aes Sedai stumble over, what traps had she laid?

One section of the floor at a time. Clean what you could reach, then move on.

Siuan and the others would have to deal with Halima’s plots, too.

Egwene’s backside hurt, but the pain was growing increasingly irrelevant to her. Sometimes she laughed when beaten, sometimes not. The strap was unimportant. The greater pain—what had been done to Tar Valon—was far more demanding. She nodded to a group of white-clothed novices as they passed her in the hallway, and they bobbed down in curtsies. Egwene frowned, but didn’t chastise them—she just hoped that they wouldn’t draw penances from the trailing Reds for showing deference to Egwene.

Her goal was the quarters of the Brown Ajah, the section that was now down in the wing. Meidani had taken her time volunteering to train Egwene today. The command had finally come today, weeks after the first dinner with Elaida. Oddly, however, Bennae Nalsad had also offered to give her instruction this day. Egwene hadn’t spoken to the Shienaran Brown since that first conversation, some weeks before. She’d never repeated lessons with the same woman twice. And yet, the name had been given to her in the morning as the first of the day’s visits.

When she reached the east wing, which now held the Brown sector of the Tower, her Red minders reluctantly took up positions in the hallway outside, waiting for her return. Elaida probably would have liked them to stay with Egwene, but after the Reds themselves had been so exacting in protecting their boundary, there was little chance of another Ajah—even the mild Browns—letting a pair of Red sisters infiltrate their quarters. Egwene hurried her pace as she entered the section with brown tiled floors, passing bustling women in nondescript, muted dresses. It was going to be a full day, with her appointments with sisters, her scheduled beatings, and her regular novice load of scrubbing floors or other chores.

She arrived at Bennae’s door, but hesitated there. Most sisters agreed to train Egwene only when forced into the duty, and the experience was often unpleasant. Some of Egwene’s teachers disliked her because of her affiliation with the rebels, others were annoyed by how easily she could craft weaves, and still others were infuriated to find that she would not show them respect like a novice.

These “lessons,” however, had been among Egwene’s best chances to sow seeds against Elaida. She’d planted one of those during her first visit with Bennae. Had it begun to sprout?

Egwene knocked, and then entered at the call to come in. The sitting room inside was cluttered with the refuse of scholarship. Stacks and stacks of books—like miniature city towers—leaned against one another. Skeletons of various creatures were mounted in various states of construction; the woman owned enough bones to populate a menagerie. Egwene shivered when she noticed a full human skeleton in the corner, held upright and bound together with threads, some detailed notations written directly on the bones in black ink.

There was barely room to walk and only one clear place to sit—Bennae’s own stuffed chair, the armrests worn with a twin set of depressions, doubtless where the Brown’s arms had rested during countless late-night reading sessions. The low ceiling felt lower for the several mummified fowl and astronomical contraptions which hung above. Egwene had to duck her head beneath a model of the sun in order to reach the place where Bennae stood rifling through a stack of leather-bound volumes.

“Ah,” she said as she noticed Egwene. “Good.” Slender in a bony sort of way, she had dark hair that was streaked with gray from age. The hair was in a bun, and she—like many Browns—wore a simple dress that hadn’t been fashionable for a century or two.

Bennae moved over to her stuffed sitting chair, ignoring the stiffer chairs by the hearth—both of those had accumulated stacks of papers since Egwene’s previous visit. Egwene cleared off a stool, placing the dusty skeleton of a rat on the floor between two stacks of books about the reign of Artur Hawkwing.

“Well, I suppose we should get on with your instruction, then,” Bennae said, settling back in her chair.

Egwene kept her face calm. Had Bennae requested an opportunity to train Egwene again? Or had she been forced into it? Egwene could see an unsophisticated Brown sister getting repeatedly roped into a duty that nobody else wanted.

At Bennae’s request, Egwene performed a number of weaves, work far beyond the skill of most novices but easy for Egwene, even with her power dampened by forkroot. She tried to tease out the Brown’s feelings on the relocation of her quarters, but Bennae—like most of the Browns Egwene had spoken to—preferred to avoid that topic.

Egwene did some more weaves. After a time, she wondered just what the point of the meeting was. Hadn’t Bennae asked her to demonstrate most of these very same weaves during her previous visit?

“Very well,” Bennae said, getting herself a cup of tea from a pot warming on a small coal brazier. She didn’t offer any tea to Egwene. “You are skilled enough at that. But I wonder. Do you have the sharpness of mind, the ability to deal with difficult situations, that an Aes Sedai is required to have?”

Egwene said nothing, though she did pointedly pour herself some tea. Bennae did not object.

“Let’s see . . .” Bennae mused. “Suppose that you were in a situation where you were in conflict with some members of your own Ajah. You have happened upon information you weren’t supposed to know, and your Ajah’s leaders are quite upset with you. Suddenly, you find yourself being sentenced to some most unpleasant duties, as if they are trying to sweep you under the rug and forget about you. Tell me, in this situation, how would you react?”

Egwene almost choked on her tea. The Brown wasn’t very subtle. She had begun asking about the Thirteenth Depository, had she? And that had landed her in trouble? Few were supposed to know about the secret histories that Egwene had mentioned so casually during her previous visit here.

“Well,” Egwene said, sipping her tea, “let me approach it with a clear mind. Best to view it from the perspective of the Ajah’s leaders, I should think.”

Bennae frowned faintly. “I suppose.”

“Now, in this situation you describe, can we assume that these secrets have been entrusted to the Ajah for safekeeping? Ah, good. Well, from their perspective, important and careful plans have been upset. Think of how it must look. Someone has learned secrets they should not. That whispers of a disturbing leak somewhere among your most trusted members.”

Bennae paled. “I suppose I could see that.”

“Then the best way to handle the situation would be twofold,” Egwene said, taking another sip of tea. It tasted terrible. “First, the leaders of the Ajah would have to be reassured. They need to know that it wasn’t their fault that the information leaked. If I were the hypothetical sister in trouble—and if I’d done nothing wrong—I’d go to them and explain. That way they could stop searching for the one who let information slip.”

“But,” Bennae said, “that probably won’t help the sister—the hypothetical one in trouble—get out of her punishments.”

“It couldn’t hurt,” Egwene said. “Likely, she’s being ‘punished’ to keep her out of the way while the Ajah leaders search for a traitor. When they know there isn’t one, they’ll be more likely to look at the fallen sister’s situation with empathy—particularly after she’s offered them a solution.”

“Solution?” Bennae asked. Her teacup sat in her fingers, as if forgotten. “And which solution would you offer?”