Lord of Chaos (The Wheel of Time #6)

Lord of Chaos (The Wheel of Time #6) Page 79

“I have better things to be about than teaching a bunch of thickheaded novices.”

Theodrin only smiled at the tartness in Nynaeve’s voice. She was quite nice, really. “A thickheaded Accepted to teach thickheaded novices?” Usually, she was nice. “Well, once we have you where you can channel without being ready to thump their heads, you will be teaching novices too. And I would not be surprised if you were raised soon after, the things you’ve been discovering. You know, you have never told me what your trick was.” Wilders almost always had some trick they had learned, the first unveiling of the ability to channel. The other thing most wilders had in common was a block, something they had built up in their minds to hide their channeling even from themselves.

Nynaeve kept her face smooth with an effort. To be able to channel whenever she wanted. To be raised Aes Sedai. Neither would remedy the problem of Moghedien, but she would be able to go where she wanted then, study as she wanted without anyone telling her this or that simply could not be Healed. “People got well when they shouldn’t. I would get so mad that somebody was going to die, that everything I knew about herbs wasn’t enough . . .” she shrugged. “And they got well.”

“Much better than mine.” The slender woman sighed. “I could make a boy want to kiss me, or not want to. My block was men, not anger.” Nynaeve looked at her incredulously, and Theodrin laughed. “Well, it was emotion, too. If there was a man present, and I liked or disliked him a great deal, I could channel. If I felt neither one way nor the other, or there wasn’t a man at all, I might as well have been a tree so far as saidar was concerned.”

“How did you ever break through that?” Nynaeve asked curiously. Elayne had the novices all paired off now, fumbling their way through passing small flames back and forth.

Theodrin’s smile deepened, but a blush stained her cheeks, too. “A young man named Charel, a groom in the Tower stables, began making eyes at me. I was fifteen, and he had the most gorgeous smile. The Aes Sedai let him sit in on my lessons, quietly in a corner, so I could channel at all. What I didn’t know was that Sheriam had arranged for him to meet me in the first place.” Her cheeks darkened more. “I also didn’t know he had a twin sister, or that after a few days, the Charel sitting in the corner was really Marel. When she took off her coat and shirt one day in the middle of my lesson, I was so shocked I fainted. But after that, I could channel whenever I wanted.”

Nynaeve burst out laughing—she could not help it—and despite her blushes Theodrin joined in without restraint. “I wish it could be that easy for me, Theodrin.”

“Whether it is or not,” Theodrin said, her laughter fading, “we will break down your block. This afternoon—”

“I’m studying Siuan this afternoon,” Nynaeve cut in hastily, and Theodrin’s mouth tightened.

“You have been avoiding me, Nynaeve. In the past month you’ve managed to wriggle out of all but three appointments. I can accept your trying and failing, but I will not accept you being afraid to try.”

“I am not,” Nynaeve began indignantly, as a small voice asked whether she was trying to hide the truth from herself. It was so disheartening to try and try and try—and fail.

Theodrin let her have no more than those few words. “Allowing that you have commitments today,” she said calmly, “I will see you tomorrow, and every day thereafter, or I will be forced to take other steps. I don’t want to do that, and you do not want me to, but I mean to break your block down. Myrelle has asked me to make special efforts, and I vow that I will.”

The near echo of what she had told Siuan made Nynaeve’s jaw drop. This was the first time the other woman had used the increased authority of her position. It would be just the way Nynaeve’s luck was running today for her and Siuan to end up waiting to see Tiana side by side.

Theodrin did not wait for a reply. She merely nodded as if she had received agreement, then glided off up the street. Nynaeve could almost see a fringed shawl around her shoulders. This morning was not going well at all. And Myrelle again! She wanted to scream.

Over among the novices, Elayne gave her a proud smile, but Nynaeve only shook her head and turned away. She was going back to her room. It was a measure of how the day was progressing that before she was halfway there Dagdara Finchey crashed into her running and knocked her flat on her back. Running! An Aes Sedai! The big woman did not stop, either, or as much as shout an apology over her shoulder as she plowed through the crowd.

Nynaeve picked herself up, dusted herself off, stumped the rest of the way to her room and slammed the door behind her. It was hot and close, the beds were unmade until Moghedien could get around to them, and worst of all, Nynaeve’s weather sense told her there should have been a hailstorm breaking over Salidar right that minute. But she would not be surprised there, or trampled.

Flinging herself down atop her rumpled sheets, she lay fingering the silver bracelet, thoughts skittering from what she might manage to dig out of Moghedien today to whether Siuan would appear that afternoon, from Lan to her block to whether she was going to stay in Salidar. It would not be running away, really. She would probably go to Caemlyn, to Rand; he did need somebody to keep his head from swelling too big, and Elayne would like that. She just wished leaving—not running away!—had not begun to seem even more attractive after Theodrin announced her intentions.

She expected to have some sign in the emotions oozing through the a’dam that Moghedien was finished with her work, and to have to go find her—she often hid when she was sulking—but the shame and outrage never decreased, and the door banging open came as a complete surprise.

“So there you are,” Moghedien grated. “Look!” She held up her hands. “Ruined!” To Nynaeve they looked no different from any hands that been doing laundry; white and wrinkled, true, but that would fade. “It is not enough that I must live in squalor, fetching and carrying like a servant, now I’m expected to labor like some primitive—!”

Nynaeve cut her off by a simple expedient. She thought of one quick stroke of a switch, what it felt like, then shifted the thought into the part of her mind that held Moghedien’s received emotions. The other woman’s dark eyes widened, and her mouth clamped shut, lips compressing. Not a hard blow, but a reminder.

“Close the door and sit down,” Nynaeve said. “You can make the beds later. We are goin