Sashalle might come to regret surviving the Last Battle.
“If Sashalle truly has been Healed,” Pevara began, and could not go on. She wet her lips
with tea, then raised the cup again and took a mouthful. The possibility seemed too
wonderful to hope for, a snowflake that might melt at a touch.
“This is impossible,” Javindhra growled, though not very strongly. Even so, she directed
the comment to Pevara lest the Highest think it meant for her. A deep scowl made her
face harsher. “Gentling cannot be Healed. Stilling cannot be Healed. Sheep will fly first!
Sashalle must be delusional.”
“Toveine might be mistaken,” Tsutama said, in a very strong voice, “though if she is, I
can’t see why these flaming Asha’man would let Logain be one of them, much less
command, but I hardly think Sashalle could be bloody mistaken about herself. And she
doesn’t write like a woman having flaming delusions. Sometimes what is bloody
impossible is only bloody impossible until the first woman does it. So. Stilling has been
Healed. By a man. Those toad-spawned Seanchan locusts are chaining every woman they
find who can channel, apparently including a number of sisters. Twelve days past….
Well, you know what happened as bloody well as I. The world has become a more
dangerous place than at any time since the Trolloc Wars, perhaps since the Breaking
itself. Therefore I’ve decided we will move forward with your scheme for these flaming
Asha’man, Pevara. Distasteful and hazardous, yet burn me, there is no bloody choice.
You and Javindhra will arrange it together.”
Pevara winced. Not for the Seanchan. They were human, whatever strange ter’angreal
they possessed, and they would be defeated eventually. Mention of what the Forsaken
had done twelve days ago brought a grimace, though, despite her efforts at keeping a
smooth face. So much of the Power wielded in one place could have been no one else. To
the extent she could, she avoided thinking about that or what they might have been trying
to accomplish. Or worse, what they might have accomplished. A second wince came at
hearing the proposal to bond Asha’man named as hers. But that had been inevitable from
the moment she presented Tarna’s suggestion to Tsutama, while holding her breath
against the eruption she was sure would come. She had even used the argument of
increasing the size of linked circles by including men, against that monstrous display of
the Power. Surprisingly, there had been no eruption, and small reaction of any kind.
Tsutama merely said she would think on it, and insisted on having the relevant papers
about men and circles delivered to her from the Library. The third wince, the largest, was
for having to work with Javindhra, for being saddled with the job at all. She had more
than enough on her plate at the moment, besides which, working with Javindhra was
always painful. The woman argued against anything put forward by anyone save herself.
Nearly anything.
Javindhra had been vehemently against bonding Asha’man, horrified at the notion of Red
sisters bonding anyone almost as much as at bonding men who could channel, yet now
that the Highest had commanded it, she was stymied. Still, she found a way to argue
against. “Elaida will never allow it,” she muttered.
Tsutama’s glittering eyes caught her gaze and held it. The bony woman swallowed
audibly.
“Elaida will not know until it is too late, Javindhra. I hide her secrets—the disaster
against the Black Tower, Dumai’s Wells—as best I can because she was raised from the
Red, but she is the Amyrlin Seat, of all Ajahs and none. That means she is no longer Red,
and this is Ajah business, not hers.” A dangerous tone entered her voice. And she had not
cursed once. That meant she was on the edge of open fury. “Do you disagree with me on
this? Do you intend to inform Elaida despite my express wishes?”
“No, Highest,” Javindhra replied quickly, then
“If Sashalle truly has been Healed,” Pevara began, and could not go on. She wet her lips
with tea, then raised the cup again and took a mouthful. The possibility seemed too
wonderful to hope for, a snowflake that might melt at a touch.
“This is impossible,” Javindhra growled, though not very strongly. Even so, she directed
the comment to Pevara lest the Highest think it meant for her. A deep scowl made her
face harsher. “Gentling cannot be Healed. Stilling cannot be Healed. Sheep will fly first!
Sashalle must be delusional.”
“Toveine might be mistaken,” Tsutama said, in a very strong voice, “though if she is, I
can’t see why these flaming Asha’man would let Logain be one of them, much less
command, but I hardly think Sashalle could be bloody mistaken about herself. And she
doesn’t write like a woman having flaming delusions. Sometimes what is bloody
impossible is only bloody impossible until the first woman does it. So. Stilling has been
Healed. By a man. Those toad-spawned Seanchan locusts are chaining every woman they
find who can channel, apparently including a number of sisters. Twelve days past….
Well, you know what happened as bloody well as I. The world has become a more
dangerous place than at any time since the Trolloc Wars, perhaps since the Breaking
itself. Therefore I’ve decided we will move forward with your scheme for these flaming
Asha’man, Pevara. Distasteful and hazardous, yet burn me, there is no bloody choice.
You and Javindhra will arrange it together.”
Pevara winced. Not for the Seanchan. They were human, whatever strange ter’angreal
they possessed, and they would be defeated eventually. Mention of what the Forsaken
had done twelve days ago brought a grimace, though, despite her efforts at keeping a
smooth face. So much of the Power wielded in one place could have been no one else. To
the extent she could, she avoided thinking about that or what they might have been trying
to accomplish. Or worse, what they might have accomplished. A second wince came at
hearing the proposal to bond Asha’man named as hers. But that had been inevitable from
the moment she presented Tarna’s suggestion to Tsutama, while holding her breath
against the eruption she was sure would come. She had even used the argument of
increasing the size of linked circles by including men, against that monstrous display of
the Power. Surprisingly, there had been no eruption, and small reaction of any kind.
Tsutama merely said she would think on it, and insisted on having the relevant papers
about men and circles delivered to her from the Library. The third wince, the largest, was
for having to work with Javindhra, for being saddled with the job at all. She had more
than enough on her plate at the moment, besides which, working with Javindhra was
always painful. The woman argued against anything put forward by anyone save herself.
Nearly anything.
Javindhra had been vehemently against bonding Asha’man, horrified at the notion of Red
sisters bonding anyone almost as much as at bonding men who could channel, yet now
that the Highest had commanded it, she was stymied. Still, she found a way to argue
against. “Elaida will never allow it,” she muttered.
Tsutama’s glittering eyes caught her gaze and held it. The bony woman swallowed
audibly.
“Elaida will not know until it is too late, Javindhra. I hide her secrets—the disaster
against the Black Tower, Dumai’s Wells—as best I can because she was raised from the
Red, but she is the Amyrlin Seat, of all Ajahs and none. That means she is no longer Red,
and this is Ajah business, not hers.” A dangerous tone entered her voice. And she had not
cursed once. That meant she was on the edge of open fury. “Do you disagree with me on
this? Do you intend to inform Elaida despite my express wishes?”
“No, Highest,” Javindhra replied quickly, then
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