been…vivid. “Including that three of the dead sisters
were from our Ajah. Mother’s milk in a cup!” All delivered in the most even tones. But
her eyes stabbed at them accusingly.
Pevara took that gaze in stride. Any direct look from Tsutama seemed accusing, and on
edge or not, Pevara knew better than to let the Highest see it. The woman swooped on
weakness like a falcon. “I can’t see why Katerine would disobey your orders to keep her
knowledge to herself, and you cannot believe Tarna is likely to put discredit on Elaida.”
Not publicly, at any rate. Tarna guarded her feelings on Elaida as carefully as a cat
guarded a mousehole. “But sisters do get reports from their eyes-and-ears. We can’t stop
them learning what happened. I’m surprised it’s taken this long.”
“That’s so,” Javindhra added, smoothing her skirts. The angular woman wore no jewelry
aside from the Great Serpent ring, and her dress was unadorned, and a red deep enough to
appear near black. “Sooner or later, the facts will all come out if we work till our fingers
bleed.” Her mouth was so tight she seemed to be biting something, yet she sounded
almost satisfied. Odd, that. She was Elaida’s lapdog.
Tsutama’s stare focused on her, and after a moment a flush grew on Javindhra’s cheeks.
Perhaps as an excuse to break eye contact, she took a long drink of her tea. From a cup of
beaten gold worked with leopards and deer, of course, Tsutama being as she now was.
The Highest continued to stare silently, but whether at Javindhra or something beyond
her, Pevara could no longer say.
When Katerine brought word that Galina was among the dead at Dumai’s Wells, Tsutama
had been raised to replace her by near acclamation. She had possessed a very good
reputation as a Sitter, at least before her involvement in the disgusting events that led to
her downfall, and many in the Red believed the times called for as hard a Highest as
could be found. Galina’s death had lifted a great weight from Pevara’s shoulders—the
Highest, a Darkfriend; oh, that had been agony!—yet she was uncertain about Tsutama.
There was something…wild…about her, now. Something unpredictable. Was she entirely
sane? But then, the same question could be asked regarding the whole White Tower. How
many of the sisters were entirely sane, now?
As if sensing her thoughts, Tsutama shifted that unblinking gaze to her. It did not make
Pevara color or start, as it did so many besides Javindhra, but she did find herself wishing
Duhara were there, just to give the Highest a third Sitter to stare at, just to share them out.
She wished she knew where the woman had gone and why, with a rebel army camped
outside Tar Valon. Over a week ago, Duhara had simply taken ship without a word to
anyone, so far as Pevara was aware, and no one seemed to know whether she had gone
north or south. These days, Pevara was suspicious of everyone and nearly everything.
“Did you call us here because of something in that letter, Highest?” she said at last. She
met that unsettling stare levelly, yet she was beginning to want a long pull from her own
ornate cup, and she wished it held wine rather than tea. Deliberately she rested the cup on
the narrow arm of her chair. The other woman’s gaze made her feel as though spiders
were crawling on her skin.
After a very long moment, Tsutama’s eyes dropped to the folded letter in her lap. Only
her hand held it from rolling up into a little cylinder. It was on the very thin paper used
for messages sent by pigeon, and the small inked letters clearly visible through the page
appeared to cover it densely.
“This is from Sashalle Anderly,” she said, bringing a wince of pity from Pevara and a
grunt that might have been anything from Javindhra. Poor Sashalle. Tsutama continued
without any outward sign of sympathy, though. “The bloody woman believes Galina
escaped, because it is addressed to her. Much of what she
were from our Ajah. Mother’s milk in a cup!” All delivered in the most even tones. But
her eyes stabbed at them accusingly.
Pevara took that gaze in stride. Any direct look from Tsutama seemed accusing, and on
edge or not, Pevara knew better than to let the Highest see it. The woman swooped on
weakness like a falcon. “I can’t see why Katerine would disobey your orders to keep her
knowledge to herself, and you cannot believe Tarna is likely to put discredit on Elaida.”
Not publicly, at any rate. Tarna guarded her feelings on Elaida as carefully as a cat
guarded a mousehole. “But sisters do get reports from their eyes-and-ears. We can’t stop
them learning what happened. I’m surprised it’s taken this long.”
“That’s so,” Javindhra added, smoothing her skirts. The angular woman wore no jewelry
aside from the Great Serpent ring, and her dress was unadorned, and a red deep enough to
appear near black. “Sooner or later, the facts will all come out if we work till our fingers
bleed.” Her mouth was so tight she seemed to be biting something, yet she sounded
almost satisfied. Odd, that. She was Elaida’s lapdog.
Tsutama’s stare focused on her, and after a moment a flush grew on Javindhra’s cheeks.
Perhaps as an excuse to break eye contact, she took a long drink of her tea. From a cup of
beaten gold worked with leopards and deer, of course, Tsutama being as she now was.
The Highest continued to stare silently, but whether at Javindhra or something beyond
her, Pevara could no longer say.
When Katerine brought word that Galina was among the dead at Dumai’s Wells, Tsutama
had been raised to replace her by near acclamation. She had possessed a very good
reputation as a Sitter, at least before her involvement in the disgusting events that led to
her downfall, and many in the Red believed the times called for as hard a Highest as
could be found. Galina’s death had lifted a great weight from Pevara’s shoulders—the
Highest, a Darkfriend; oh, that had been agony!—yet she was uncertain about Tsutama.
There was something…wild…about her, now. Something unpredictable. Was she entirely
sane? But then, the same question could be asked regarding the whole White Tower. How
many of the sisters were entirely sane, now?
As if sensing her thoughts, Tsutama shifted that unblinking gaze to her. It did not make
Pevara color or start, as it did so many besides Javindhra, but she did find herself wishing
Duhara were there, just to give the Highest a third Sitter to stare at, just to share them out.
She wished she knew where the woman had gone and why, with a rebel army camped
outside Tar Valon. Over a week ago, Duhara had simply taken ship without a word to
anyone, so far as Pevara was aware, and no one seemed to know whether she had gone
north or south. These days, Pevara was suspicious of everyone and nearly everything.
“Did you call us here because of something in that letter, Highest?” she said at last. She
met that unsettling stare levelly, yet she was beginning to want a long pull from her own
ornate cup, and she wished it held wine rather than tea. Deliberately she rested the cup on
the narrow arm of her chair. The other woman’s gaze made her feel as though spiders
were crawling on her skin.
After a very long moment, Tsutama’s eyes dropped to the folded letter in her lap. Only
her hand held it from rolling up into a little cylinder. It was on the very thin paper used
for messages sent by pigeon, and the small inked letters clearly visible through the page
appeared to cover it densely.
“This is from Sashalle Anderly,” she said, bringing a wince of pity from Pevara and a
grunt that might have been anything from Javindhra. Poor Sashalle. Tsutama continued
without any outward sign of sympathy, though. “The bloody woman believes Galina
escaped, because it is addressed to her. Much of what she
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