The Fires of Heaven (The Wheel of Time #5)

Uno shook his head. “Well, if I'm to be cozened, I suppose I'll be cozened. But mark this. Masema's people found the ship — Riversnake, or something like — not an hour after it docked, but Whitecloaks seized it. That's what started this little row. The bad news is the Whitecloaks still hold the docks. The worse is, Masema may have forgotten the ship — I went to see him, and he wouldn't hear of ships; all he can talk about is hanging Whitecloaks, and making Amadicia bend knee to the Lord Dragon if he has to put the whole land to the torch — but he hasn't bothered to tell all of his people. There's been fighting near the river, and may still be. Getting you through the riots will be bad enough, but if there's a battle at the docks, I make no promises. And how I'm to put you on a ship in Whitecloak hands, I don't begin to know.” Letting out a long breath, he scrubbed sweat from his forehead with the back of a scarred hand. The strain of so long a speech without cursing was plain on his face.

Nynaeve might have relented on his language at that moment if she had not been too stunned to speak. It had to be coincidence. Light, I said anything for a ship, but I didn't mean this. Not this! She did not know why Elayne and Birgitte were staring at her with such blank expressions. They had known everything she had, and neither had brought up this possibility. The three men exchanged frowns, obviously aware that something was going on and just as obviously unaware what it was, for which thank the Light. Much better when they did not know everything. It just had to be coincidence.

In one way, she was more than happy to focus on another man making his way through the wagons; it gave an excuse to pull her eyes away from Elayne and Birgitte. In another way, the sight of Galad made her stomach settle right to her shoes.

He wore plain brown and a flat velvet cap instead of his white cloak and burnished mail, but his sword still rested on his hip. He had not been to the wagons before, and the effect of his face was dramatic. Muelin took an unconscious step toward him, and the two slender acrobats leaned forward, mouths open. The Chavanas were plainly forgotten, and scowling for it. Even Clarine smoothed her dress as she watched him, until Petra took his pipe from his mouth and said something. Then she went over to where he sat, laughing, and snuggled his face to her plump bosom. But her eyes still followed Galad over her husband's head.

Nynaeve was in no mood to be affected by a handsome face; her breath hardly quickened at all. “It was you, wasn't it?” she demanded before he even reached her. “You seized the Riversnake, didn't you? Why?”

“Riverserpent,” he corrected, eyeing her incredulously. “You did ask me to secure you passage.”

“I didn't ask you to start a riot!”

“A riot?” Elayne put in. “A war. An invasion. All begun over this vessel.”

Galad answered calmly. “I gave Nynaeve my word, sister. My first duty is to see you safely on your way to Caemlyn. And Nynaeve, of course. The Children would have had to fight this Prophet soon or late.”

“Couldn't you simply have let us know the ship was here?” Nynaeve asked wearily. Men and their word. It was all very admirable, sometimes, but she should have listened when Elayne said he did what he saw as right no matter who was hurt.

“I don't know what the Prophet wanted the ship for, but I doubt it was so you could take passage downriver.” Nynaeve flinched. “Besides which, I paid the captain your passage while he was still unloading his cargo. An hour later, one of the two men I left to make sure he did not sail without you came to tell me the other man was dead and the Prophet had taken the ship. I don't understand what you are so upset about. You wanted a ship, needed a ship, and I got you one.” Frowning, Galad addressed Thom and Juilin. “What is the matter with them? Why do they keep staring at one another?”

“Women,” Juilin said simply, and got slapped on the back of the head by Birgitte for his trouble. He glared at her.

“Horseflies have a nasty bite,” she grinned, and his glower faded into uncertainty as he readjusted his cap.

“We can sit here all day discussing right and wrong,” Thom said dryly, “or we can take this vessel. Passage has been paid, and there's no getting the price back now.”

Nynaeve flinched again. However he meant it, she knew how she heard it.

“There may be trouble reaching the river,” Galad said. “I donned this clothing because the Children are not popular in Samara at the moment, but the mobs can set on anyone.” He eyed Thom doubtfully, with his white hair and long white mustaches, and Juilin a little less so — even disheveled, the Tairen looked hard enough to pound posts — then turned to Uno. “Where is your friend? Another sword might be useful until we reach my men.”

Uno's smile was villainous. Clearly, there was no more love between them than at their first meeting. “He's about. And maybe one or two more. I'll see them to the ship, if your Whitecloaks can hold on to it. Or if they can't.”

Elayne opened her mouth, but Nynaeve spoke up quickly. “That's enough, both of you!” Elayne would just have tried honeyed words again. They might have worked, but she wanted to lash out. At something, anything. “We need to move quickly.” She should have considered, when she flung two madmen at the same target, what might happen if they both hit at once. “Uno, gather the rest of your men, as fast as you can.” He tried to tell her they were already waiting on the other side of the menagerie, but she plowed on. They were madmen, both of them. All men were! “Galad, you —”

“Rouse and rise!” Luca's shout cut into her words as he trotted between the wagons, limping, and with a bruise discoloring the side of his face. His scarlet cape was soiled and torn. It seemed Thom and Juilin were not the only ones to have entered the town. “Brugh, go tell the horse handlers to hitch the teams! We'll have to abandon the canvas,” he grimaced at the words, “but I mean to be on the road in under an hour! Andaya, Kuan, pull your sisters out! Wake anybody still asleep, and if they're washing, tell them to dress dirty or come naked! Hurry, unless you're ready to proclaim the Prophet and march to Amadicia! Chin Akima's lost his head already, along with half his performers, and Sillia Cerano and a dozen of hers were flogged for being too slow! Move!” By that time, everybody except those around Nynaeve's wagon were at the run.

Luca's limp slowed as he approached, eyeing Galad warily. And Uno, for that matter, though he had seen the oneeyed man twice before. “Nana, I want to talk to you,” he said, qui