Page 156 of Towers of Midnight (The Wheel of Time 13)

Calming herself, Elayne pushed past them out of the small cell to check on Temaile in the hallway outside. The

woman was still breathing, but was indeed unconscious. Elayne tied her in Air, too, to be certain, then carefully picked up the foxhead medallion. She winced at the pain of her other arm. Yes, she'd broken a bone for certain.

The dark hallway was empty, set with four doorways for cells, lit by only a single stand-lamp. Where were the Guards and Kin? She reluctantly released the weaves that formed her disguise she wouldn't want any soldiers arriving and mistaking her for one of the Darkfriends. Certainly someone had heard some of that racket! In the back of her mind, she could sense concern from Birgitte, who was getting closer. The Warder had undoubtedly felt Elayne's injury.

Almost, Elayne preferred the pain of her shoulder to the lecture she'd get from Birgitte. She winced again, considering that, as she turned and inspected her captives. She'd need to check the other cells.

Of course her babes would be all right. She would be all right. She'd overreacted to the pain; she hadn't really been afraid. Still, best to

"Hello, my Queen," a man's voice whispered in her ear right before a second pain blossomed in her side. She gasped, stumbling forward. A hand reached out and yanked the medallion from her fingers.

Elayne spun, and the room seemed blurry. Something warm ran down her side. She was bleeding! She was so stunned, she felt the Source slip away from her.

Doilin Mellar stood behind her in the hallway, holding a bloodied

knife in his right hand, hefting the medallion in his left. His hatchetlike face was broken by a deep smile, almost a leer. Though he wore only rags, he looked as self-assured as a king on his throne.

Elayne hissed and reached for the Source. But nothing happened. She heard chuckling behind her. She'd hadn't tied off Chesmal's shield! As soon as Elayne released the Source, the weaves would have vanished. Sure enough, Elayne glanced and found weaves cutting her off from the Source.

Chesmal, handsome face flushed, smiled at her. Light! There was blood pooling at Elayne's feet. So much of it.

She stumbled back against the wall of the hallway, Mellar to one side, Chesmal the other.

She couldn't die. Min had said . . . We could be misinterpreting. Birgitte's voice returned to her. Any number of things could still go wrong.

"Heal her," Mellar said.

"What?" Chesmal demanded. Behind her, Eldrith was dusting herself off inside the cell doorway. She'd fallen to the ground when Elayne's weav-ings of Air dissipated, but her shield was still there. That one Elayne had tied in place.

Think, Elayne told herself, blood dribbling between her fingers. There has to be a way out. There has to be! Oh, Light! Birgitte, hurry!

"Heal her," Mellar said again. "The knife wound was to make her drop you."

"Fool," Chesmal said. "If the weaves had been tied off, a wound wouldn't have released us!"

"Then she would have died," Mellar said, shrugging. He eyed Elayne; those handsome eyes of his shone with lust. "And that would have been a pity. For she was promised to me, Aes Sedai. I won't have her die here in this dungeon. She doesn't die until I have had time to . . . enjoy her." He looked at the Black sister. "Besides, you think those whom we serve would be pleased if they knew you'd let the Queen of Andor die without yielding her secrets?"

Chesmal looked dissatisfied, but she apparently saw the wisdom in his words. Behind them, the secretary slipped out of the cell and after glancing both ways -slunk down the hallway toward the steps and hurried up them. Chesmal crossed the hallway toward Elayne. Blessedly. Elayne was getting fuzzy-headed. She rested her back against the wall, barely feeling the pain of her broken shoulder, and slid down until she was sitting.

"Idiot girl," Chesmal said. "I saw through your ploy, of course. I was leading you on, knowing that help was coming."

The words were hollow; she was lying for the benefit of the others. The

Healing. Elayne needed . . . that . . . Healing. Her mind was growing dull, her vision darkening. She held her hand to her side, terrified for herself, for her children.

Her hand slipped. She felt something through the fabric in the pocket of her dress. The foxhead medallion copy.

Chesmal put her hands on Elayne's head, crafting Healing weaves. Elayne's veins became ice water, her body overwhelmed by a wave of Power. She drew in a deep breath, the agony in her side and shoulder vanishing.

"There," Chesmal said. "Now, quickly, we need to "

Elayne whipped free the other medallion and held it up. By reflex, Chesmal grabbed it. That made the woman unable to channel. Her weaves vanished, including Elayne's shield.

Chesmal cursed, dropping the medallion. It hit and rolled as Chesmal wove a shield.

Elayne didn't bother with a shield. This time, she wove Fire. Simple, direct, dangerous. The Dark sister's clothing burst into flame before she could finish weaving, and she cried out.

Elayne hauled herself to her feet. The hallway shook and spun the Healing had taken a lot out of her but before things stopped spinning, she wove another thread of Fire, lashing it at Mellar. He had risked the life of her children! He had stabbed her! He . . .