The Path of Daggers

Faile was watching him, pretending not to, sipping her punch and directing her smiles at Alliandre, but he caught the quick nickers of her eyes in his direction. Berelain made no pretense, watching quite openly, eyes slightly narrowed and never leaving his face. Annoura was just as intent, just as thoughtful. Did they all believe he was going to trip over his own tongue again?

Instead of answering the important question, Alliandre said, 'The First told me a great deal about you, Lord Aybara, and about the Lord Dragon Reborn, blessed be his name in the Light.' That last sounded by rote, an addition she no longer had to think about. 'I cannot see him before I make my decision, so I wished to see you, to take a measure of you. It’s possible to tell much about a man by those he chooses to speak for him.' Tilting her face down toward the cup in her hands, she peered at him through her lashes. From Berelain, that would have been flirtatious, but Alliandre was cautiously watching a wolf sure as he was standing in front of her. 'I also saw your banners,' she said quietly. 'The First did not mention them.'

Perrin scowled before he could stop himself. Berelain had told her a great deal about him? What had she said? 'The banners are meant to be seen.' Anger put a roughness in his voice that required some effort to force down. Now, Berelain was a woman who needed shouting at. 'Believe me, there are no plans to set up Manetheren again.' There; his tone was as cool as Alliandre’s. 'What is your decision? Rand can have ten thousand soldiers, a hundred thousand, here in the blink of an eye, or near enough.' And he might have to. The Seanchan in Amador and Ebou Dar? Light, how many were they?

Alliandre sipped delicately at her wine-punch before speaking, and again she dodged the question. 'There are a thousand rumors, as you must know, and even the wildest is believable when the Dragon is Reborn, strangers appear claiming to be Artur Hawkwing’s armies returned, and the Tower itself is broken by rebellion.'

'A matter for Aes Sedai,' Annoura said sharply. 'It concerns no one else.' Berelain flashed an exasperated look at her, which she affected not to notice.

Alliandre flinched and turned her shoulder to the sister. Queen or not, no one wanted to hear that tone from an Aes Sedai. 'The world is turned upside down, Lord Aybara. Why, I’ve even had reports of Aiel sacking a village right here in Ghealdan.' Abruptly Perrin realized there was more here than anxiety over offending Aes Sedai. Alliandre watched him, waiting. But for what? Reassurance?

'The only Aiel in Ghealdan are with me,' he told her. 'The Seanchan may be descendants of Artur Hawkwing’s army, but Hawkwing is a thousand years dead. Rand dealt with them once already, and he will again.' He remembered Falme as clearly as Dumai’s Wells, though he had tried forgetting. Surely there had not been enough of them there to take Amador and Ebou Dar, even with their damane. Balwer claimed they had Taraboner soldiers, too. 'And it might cheer you to hear that those rebel Aes Sedai support Rand. They will, soon, at least.' That was what Rand said, a handful of Aes Sedai with nowhere to go except to him. Perrin was not so sure. Rumor in Ghealdan put an army with those sisters. Of course, the same rumors counted more Aes Sedai in that handful than there were in the world, but still… Light, he wished someone would reassure him! 'Why don’t we sit,' he said. 'I’ll answer any questions you have, to help you make your decision, but we might as well be comfortable.' Drawing one of the folding chairs to him, he remembered at the last instant not to just drop into it, but it creaked under him just the same.

Lini and the other two servants rushed about, pulling chairs into a circle with his, but none of the other women moved toward them. Alliandre stood looking at him, and the rest looked at her. Except for Gallenne, who merely poured himself another cup of punch from the silver pitcher.

It came to Perrin that Faile had not opened her mouth since speaking of the merchants. He was as grateful for Berelain’s silence as he was that she had not decided to flutter her lashes at him in front of the Queen, but he could have used some help from Faile right then. A little advice. Light, she knew ten times what he did about what he should say and do here.

Wondering whether he should stand with the others, he set his wine-punch on one of the small tables and asked her to speak to Alliandre. 'If anyone can make her see the right way to go, you can,' he said. Faile gave him a pleased smile, but held her tongue.

Abruptly Alliandre put out her cup to one side without looking, as if expecting a tray to be there. One was, barely in time to catch the cup, and Maighdin, who held it, muttered something Perrin hoped Faile had not heard. Faile was death on servants using that sort of language. He started to rise as Alliandre approached him, but to his shock, she knelt gracefully in front of him, catching his hands with hers. Before he knew what she was doing, she twisted so her hands were back-to-back between his palms. She clung so hard her hands must have hurt; for sure, he was not certain he could loose himself without hurting her.

'Under the Light,' she said firmly, looking up at him, 'I, Alliandre Maritha Kigarin, pledge my fealty and service to Lord Perrin Aybara of the Two Rivers, now and for all time, save that he chooses to release me of his own will. My lands and throne are his, and I yield them to his hand. So I do swear.'

For an instant there was a silence broken only by Gallenne’s gasp and the muted thud of his winecup hitting the rug.

Then Perrin heard Faile, once more whispering so softly no one next to her could have made out her words. 'Under the Light, I do accept your pledge and will defend and protect you and yours through battle’s wrack and winter’s blast and all that time may bring. The lands and throne of Ghealdan, I give to you as my faithful vassal. Under the Light, I do accept…' That must have been the Saldaean manner of accepting. Thank the Light she was too busy concentrating on him to see Berelain nodding at him furiously, urging the same. The pair of them looked almost as if they had expected this! Annoura, though, with her mouth hanging open, appeared as stunned as he, like a fish who had just seen the water vanish.

'Why?' he asked gently, ignoring Faile’s frustrated hiss and Berelain’s exasperated grunt alike. Burn me, he thought, I’m a bloody blacksmith! Nobody swore fealty to blacksmiths. Queens did not swear fealty to anyone! 'I’ve been told I’m ta’veren; you might want to reconsider this in an hour.'

'I hope you are ta’veren, my Lord.' Alliandre laughed, but not in amusement, and gripped his hands even more tightly, as though fearful he might pull away. 'With all my heart, I hope it. I fear nothing less will save Ghealdan. I all but reached this decision as soon as the First told me why you are here, and meeting you only confirmed me in it. Ghealdan needs protection I cannot give, so duty demands I find it. You can give it, my Lord, you and the Lord Dragon Reborn, blessed be his name in the Light. In truth, I would swear directly to him if he were here, but you are his man. Swearing to you, I also swear to him.' Drawing a deep breath, she forced out another word. 'Please.' She smelled desperate, now, and her eyes shone with fear.

Still, he hesitated. This was everything Rand could want and more, but Perrin Aybara was just a blacksmith. He was! Could he still tell himself that if he did this thing? Alliandre stared up at him pleadingly. Did ta’veren work on themselves, he wondered. 'Under the Light, I, Perrin Aybara, accept your pledge…' His throat was dry by the time he finished the words Faile had whispered. Too late to stop and think now.

With a gasp of relief, Alliandre kissed his hands. Perrin did not think he had ever been so embarrassed in his life. Standing hurriedly, he drew her to her feet. And realized he did not know what to do next. A proudly beaming Faile whispered no further hints. Berelain smiled, too, relief so strong on her face she might have just been pulled from a fire.

He was sure Annoura would speak — Aes Sedai always had plenty to say, especially when it gave an opportunity to take charge — but the Gray sister was holding out a winecup for Maighdin to refill. Annoura watched him with an unreadable expression, and for that matter, so did Maighdin, so much so that she continued tilting her pitcher until punch slopped over onto the Aes Sedai’s wrist. At which Annoura gave a start, staring at the cup in her hand as though she had forgotten it was there. Faile frowned, and Lini frowned even harder, and Maighdin scurried for a cloth to dry the sister’s hand, all the while muttering under her breath again. Faile was going to have fits if she ever heard those mutters.

Perrin knew he was taking too long. Alliandre licked her lips anxiously; she expected more, but what? 'Now that we’re done here, I have to find the Prophet next,' he said, and winced. Too abrupt. He had no feel for dealing with nobles, much less queens. 'I suppose you’ll want to get back to Bethal before anyone learns you’re gone.'

'The last I heard,' Alliandre told him, 'the Prophet of the Lord Dragon was in Abila. That’s a largish town in Amadicia, perhaps forty leagues south of here.'

In spite of himself, Perrin frowned, though he smoothed his brow quickly. So Balwer had been right. Right in one thing did not mean right in all, but it might be worthwhile hearing what the man had to say about the