New Spring: The Novel

Guardsman who had it from a Shienaran soldier, a courier, but later, I was told the same by Serafelle, by Ryma, and by Jennet. One sister may be mistaken, but when three tell you something, you may be sure they have the right of it.' She was an enjoyable companion to pass an evening with, yet she did have a way of making casual statements sound like lectures. 'Why are you two grinning like fools?' she demanded suddenly.

'I didn't know I was grinning,' Siuan replied, schooling her features. She still looked eager, rising up on her toes as though to run.

'Is not a chance to ride in the countryside worth grinning over?' Moiraine asked. Now, perhaps they could convince their escort to take them to the camps closest to Dragonmount. She was unsure exactly when she had adopted Siuan's view, yet it was her own, now. They would find him first. Somehow, they would. Grin? She could have laughed aloud and danced.

'Sometimes, you two are passing strange,' Sheriam said. 'I'm saddle-sore near to hobbling, myself. Well, you can stand here and talk if you wish. I want my breakfast.' But as she turned to go, she stopped dead and exhaled in shock.

Merean had come onto the gallery in the fading darkness, her vine-woven shawl draped over her arms so the blue fringe almost brushed the floor. She attracted a good many stares from the Accepted. Sisters seldom wore their shawls inside the Tower except for official occasions. An appearance here by the Mistress of Novices, wearing hers, meant someone was in very deep trouble. Or else being summoned for testing. A few of the women lingered on the gallery hopefully, while a handful sped off as fast as they could short of running, no doubt propelled by guilty consciences. They should have known better. All they achieved was to have Merean note them with a glance, and she would dig until she discovered what they felt guilt about. In Cairhien, a gooseherd would have known as much. She paid them no heed now, however, as she glided calmly along the gallery, the Accepted she passed rising from their curtsies with regret painting their faces.

Sheriam was one of those who lingered, and it was in front of her, Siuan and Moiraine that Merean stopped. Moiraine's heart fluttered, and she struggled to breathe evenly as she curtsied. She struggled just to breathe in the first place. Maybe Siuan had been right. Well, she was right, in point of fact. When Merean said an Accepted might test soon, it always came within the month. But she was not ready! Siuan's face shone with eagerness, of course, her eyes bright. Sheriam's lips were parted in hopeful anticipation. Light, every last Accepted must think herself more ready than Moiraine Damodred did.

'You'll be late if you don't hurry, child,' the Blue sister told Sheriam sharply. And surprisingly. Merean was never sharp, even when there was punishment in the offing. When she lectured on your misdeeds while applying switch or strap or the hated slipper, her voice was merely firm.

As the fire-haired woman darted away, the Mistress of Novices focused her attention on Siuan and Moiraine. Moiraine thought her heart would pound its way through her ribs. Not yet. Light, please, not yet.

'I've spoken with the Amyrlin, Moiraine, and she agrees with me that you must be in shock. The other Accepted will have to make do without you today.' Merean's mouth tightened for an instant before serenity returned to her face. Her voice remained a needle, though. 'I'd have kept you all in, but people will cooperate better with initiates of the Tower than with clerks, even White Tower clerks, and the sisters would be up in arms if they were asked to do the task. The Mother was right about that much.'

Light! She must have argued with Tamra to be upset enough to say all of that to Accepted. No wonder she was being sharp. Relief welled up in Moiraine that she was not to be whisked off and tested for the shawl immediately, yet it could not compete with disappointment. They could reach the camps around Dragonmount today. Well, one of the camps, at least. They could!

'Please, Merean, I-'

The sister raised one finger. That was her warning not to argue, and however kind and gentle she was in the general course of things, she never gave a second. Moiraine closed her mouth promptly.

'You shouldn't be left to brood,' Merean went on. Smooth face or no, the way she shifted her shawl to her shoulders spoke of irritation. 'Some of the girls' writing is like chicken scratches.' Yes, she was definitely upset. When she had any criticism, however slight, it was delivered to the target of it and no one else. 'The Mother agreed that you can copy out the lists that are near unreadable. You have a clear hand. A bit over-flowery, but clear.'

Moiraine tried desperately to think of something to say that the sister would not take for argument, but nothing came. How was she to escape?

'That's a very good idea, Moiraine,' Siuan said, and Moiraine gaped at her friend in amazement. Her friend! But Siuan went merrily ahead with betrayal. 'She didn't sleep a wink last night, Merean. No more than an hour at most, anyway. I don't think she's safe to go riding. She'll fall off inside a mile.' Siuan said that!

'I'm glad you concur with my decision, Siuan,' Merean said dryly. Moiraine would have blushed to have that tone directed at her, yet Siuan was made of sterner material, meeting the sister's raised eyebrow with an open- eyed smile of innocence. 'She shouldn't be left alone, either, so you can help her. You have a good clear hand yourself.' The smile froze on Siuan's face, but the sister affected not to notice. 'Come along, then. Come along. I've more to do today than usher the pair of you around.'

Gliding ahead of them like a plump swan on a stream, a fast-swimming swan, she led the way to a small windowless room a little down from the Amyrlin's apartments and across the corridor. A richly carved writing table, with two straight-backed armchairs behind it, held a tray of pens, large glass ink jars, sand jars for blotting, stacks of good white paper, and a great disorderly stack of pages covered in writing. Hanging her cloak on a peg and setting her scrip on the floor by the table, Moiraine stared at that ragged pile as glumly as Siuan did. At least there was a fireplace, and a fire going on the narrow hearth. The room was warm compared to the corridors. Much warmer than a ride in the snow. There was that.

'Once you've finished breakfast,' Merean said, 'come back here and set to work. Leave the copies in the anteroom of the Amyrlin's study.'

'Light, Siuan,' Moiraine said with feeling as soon as the sister was gone, 'what made you think this was a good idea?'

'You-' Siuan grimaced ruefully. 'We will get a look at more names this way. Maybe all the names, if Tamra keeps us in the job. We could be the first to know who he is. I doubt there could be two boys born on Dragonmount. I just thought it would be 'you,' not 'us.'' She breathed a gloomy sigh, then suddenly frowned at Moiraine. 'Why would you be brooding? Why are you supposed to be in shock?'

Last night, revealing her woes had seemed out of place, a trifle compared to what they knew the world faced, but Moiraine had no hesitation in telling her now. Before she finished, Siuan enveloped her in a strong, comforting hug. They had wept on each other's shoulders much more often than either had availed herself of Merean's. She had never been as close to anyone as she was to Siuan. Or loved anyone as much.

'You know I have six uncles who are fine men,' Siuan said softly, 'and one who died proving how fine a man he was. What you don't know is, I have two others my father wouldn't let cross his doorstep, one his own brother. My father wouldn't even say their names. They're street robbers, shoulder-thumpers and drunkards, and when they've guzzled enough ale, or brandy if they've stolen enough to afford it, they start fights with anyone who looks at them the wrong way. Usually, it's both of them together setting on the same poor fellow with fists and boots and anything that comes to hand. One day, they'll hang for killing somebody, if they haven't already. When they do, I won't shed a tear. Some people just aren't worth a tear.'

Moiraine hugged her back. 'You always know the right thing to say. But I will still pray for my uncles.'

'I'll pray for those two scoundrels when they die, too. I just won't fret myself over them, alive or dead. Come. Let's go to breakfast. It's going to be a long day, and we won't even have a nice ride for exercise.' She had to be joking, yet there was not so much as a twinkle of mirth in her blue eyes. Then again, she truly did hate doing clerical work. No one enjoyed that.

The dining hall most often used by Accepted lay on the lowest level of the Tower, a large room with stark white walls and a white-tiled floor, full of long, polished tables, and plain benches that could hold two women, or three at a pinch. The other Accepted ate quickly, sometimes gulping their food with unseemly haste. Sheriam spilled porridge on her dress and hurried from the room proclaiming that she had time to change. She very nearly ran. Everyone was hurrying. Even Katerine all but trotted off, still eating a crusty roll and brushing crumbs from her dress. It seemed a chance to leave the city was not so miserable, at that. Siuan dawdled over her porridge, laced