The Gathering Storm полностью

Gawyn took a breath. He couldn’t lose his temper. If he did that, he’d never get Lelaine to listen. And he needed her. Bryne wouldn’t move without Aes Sedai authorization, and as far as Gawyn had been able to tell, his best chances of gaining it came from Lelaine or Romanda. Everyone seemed to listen to one of the two or the other.

Fortunately, Gawyn had found that he could play them off one another. A visit to Romanda almost always prompted an invitation from Lelaine. Of course, the reason they were eager to see him in the first place had very little to do with Egwene. No doubt the conversation would move in that direction very soon.

“Perhaps you are right, Lelaine Sedai,” he said, trying a different tack. “Perhaps Egwene does believe herself to be safe. But isn’t there a possibility that she is wrong? You can’t honestly believe that Elaida will let a woman who claimed to be Amyrlin wander around the White Tower free? This is obviously just a means of showing off a captured rival before executing her.”

“Perhaps,” Lelaine said, continuing to write. She had a flowing, ornate hand. “But must I not uphold the Amyrlin, even if she is misguided?”

Gawyn gave no response. Of course she could disobey the will of the Amyrlin. He knew enough of Aes Sedai politics to understand it was done all the time. But saying that would accomplish nothing.

“Still,” Lelaine said absently. “Perhaps I can bring a motion before the Hall. We might be able to persuade the Amyrlin to listen to a new kind of plea. We shall see if I can formulate a new argument.”

“We shall see” or “Perhaps we can” or “I will consider what to do.” Never a firm commitment; every half-offer came smeared liberally with goose grease for easy escape. Light, but he was growing weary of Aes Sedai answers!

Lelaine looked up at him, favoring him with a smile. “Now, as I have agreed to do something for you, perhaps you will be willing to offer me something. Great deeds are rarely accomplished without the aid of many partners, you may know.”

Gawyn sighed. “Speak your needs, Aes Sedai.”

“Your sister has, by all reports, made a very admirable showing for herself in Andor,” Lelaine said, as if she hadn’t said nearly the exact same thing the last three times she’d met with Gawyn. “She did have to step on a few toes to secure her throne, however. What do you think her policy will be regarding House Traemane’s fruit orchards? Under your mother, the tax assessments on the land were very favorable toward Traemane. Will Elayne revoke this special privilege, or will she try to use it as honey to soothe those who stood against her?”

Gawyn stifled another sigh. It always came back to Elayne. He was convinced that neither Lelaine nor Romanda had any real interest in rescuing Egwene—they were too pleased with their increased power in her absence. No, they met with Gawyn because of the new queen on the Lion Throne.

He had no idea why an Aes Sedai of the Blue Ajah would care about apple orchard taxation rates. Lelaine wouldn’t be looking for monetary gain; that wasn’t the Aes Sedai way. But she would want leverage, a means of securing a favorable connection with the Andoran noble houses. Gawyn resisted answering. Why help this woman? What good was it doing?

But yet . . . could he be certain she wouldn’t work for Egwene’s release? If he stopped making these meetings useful to Lelaine, would she discontinue them? Would he find himself shut out of his one source of influence—no matter how small—in the camp?

“Well,” he said, “I think that my sister will be more strict than my mother was. She always has thought that the favorable position of the orchard growers was no longer justified.”

He could see that Lelaine subtly began taking notes on what he said at the bottom of her parchment. Was that the real reason for getting out the ink and quill?

He had no choice but to answer as honestly as he could, though he had to be careful not to let himself get pressed for too much information. His connection to Elayne was the only thing he had with which to bargain, and he had to ration his usefulness to stretch it long. It irked him. Elayne wasn’t a bargaining chip, she was his sister!

But it was all he had.

“I see,” Lelaine said, “and what of the northern cherry orchards? They haven’t been particularly productive lately, and. . . .”

Shaking his head, Gawyn left the tent. Lelaine had prodded him about Andoran taxation rates for the better part of an hour. And, once again, Gawyn was uncertain if he’d achieved anything useful in his visit. He’d never get Egwene free at this rate!

As always, a novice in white waited outside the tent to escort him from the inner camp. This time the novice was a short, plump woman who looked more than a few years too old to have taken up the white.