Rand took in a deep breath. "And how did this happen?"
"The men I assigned to watch after him," she said quickly, "I hadn't realized how poorly they were treating the messenger! Why, they hadn't given him water for days, and the fevers struck. ..."
"In other words," Rand said, "you failed to extract information from him, so you left him in a dungeon to rot, only remembering where he was when I demanded he be produced."
Milisair paled visibly. "Lord Dragon," she said. "A moment of weakness! I—"
Rand waved for silence. "What am I to do with you now?"
"She should be executed, my Lord!" Ramshalan said, stepping forward eagerly.
Rand looked up with a frown. He hadn't been asking for a response. Lanky, with one of the thin black Domani mustaches, Ramshalan had a prominent nose that might have indicated some Saldaean forebear. He wore an outrageous coat of blue, orange and yellow, with ruffled white cuffs peeking out underneath. Apparently, such things passed for fashionable among some segments of the Domani upper crust. His earrings bore the mark of his house, and he had a black beauty mark in the shape of a bird in flight affixed to his check.
Rand had known many like him, courtiers with too few brains but too many family connections. Noble life seemed to breed them, much as the Two Rivers bred sheep. Ramshalan was particularly annoying because of his nasal voice and eager willingness to betray others in his desire to curry favor with Rand.
Still, men like him had their uses. Occasionally. "What do you think, Milisair?" Rand said musingly. "Should I have you executed for treason, as this man suggests?"
She did not weep, but she was obviously terrified, her hands shaking as she held them out, her eyes wide, unblinking.
"No," Rand said finally. "I need you to help choose a new king. What good would it do to search the countryside for your colleagues if I began to execute the Council members I've already found?"
She let out the breath she had been holding, and tension left her shoulders
"Lock her in the same dungeon where she imprisoned the King's messenger," Rand said to the Maidens. "Make sure she doesn't suffer the same fate—at least, not until after I'm finished with her."
Milisair cried out in despair. Aiel Maidens pulled her from the room screaming, but Rand had already put her from his head. Ramshalan watched her go with satisfaction; apparently, she'd insulted him several times in public. That was one point in her favor.
"The other members of the merchant council," Rand said to the functionaries. "Have any of them had contact with the King?"
"None more recently than four or five months ago, my Lord," said one of them, a stumpy, large-bellied Domani man named Noreladim. "Though we don't know about Alamindra, as she was just recently . . . discovered."
Perhaps she would have news, though he couldn't see her having a better lead than a messenger who claimed to have come from Alsalam himself. Burn that woman for letting him die!
Rand hesitated. It was a good point. If the messenger
But he wasn't sure she was in the country. If he could find a messenger and Compulsion was there, he'd have enough. "I need to speak with anyone else who claims to have a message from the King," he said. "Others in the city who might have had contact."
"They will be found, Lord Dragon," said the prim Ramshalan.
Rand nodded absently. If Naeff set up the meeting with the Seanchan as hoped, then Rand could leave Arad Doman soon after. He hoped to leave them with a king, hoped to find and kill Graendal. But he would settle for peace with the Seanchan and food for these people. He could not solve everyone's problems. He could just force them into abeyance long enough for him to die at Shayol Ghul.
And thereby leave the world to break again once he was gone. He gritted his teeth. He had already wasted too much time worrying about things he could not fix.
