Elayne leaned forward on her throne as Perrin, Faile and the others entered. Faile curtsied, of course, and Perrin bowed. Not a low bow, but a bow nonetheless. By arrangement, Alliandre curtsied deeper than Faile had. That would immediately set Elayne thinking.
The official purpose of this visit was a commendation by the Crown, a thanks to Perrin and Faile for bringing back Morgase. That was just an affectation, of course. Their real reason for meeting was to discuss the future of the Two Rivers. But that was the sort of delicate goal that neither could speak of outright, at least not at first. Merely stating the objective would reveal too much to the other side.
“Let it be known,” Elayne said with a musical voice, “that the throne welcomes you, Lady Zarine ni Bashere t’Aybara. Queen Alliandre Maritha Kigarin. Perrin Aybara.” No use of title for him. “Let it be proclaimed in person our gratitude to you for returning our mother. Your diligence in this matter earns you the Crown’s deepest appreciation.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Perrin said with his usual gruffness. Faile had spoken to him at length about not trying to dispense with the formality or ceremony.
“We will declare a day of celebration for my mother’s safe return,” Elayne continued. “And for her…restoration to proper status.”
Well, that pause meant Elayne was displeased to know that her mother had been treated as a servant. She had to realize that Perrin and Faile hadn’t known what they were doing, but a queen could still claim indignation for such an event. It was an edge that, perhaps, she planned to use.
Perhaps Faile was reading too much into the comments, but she couldn’t help it. In many ways, being a lady was much like being a merchant, and she had been trained well for both roles.
“Finally,” Elayne said, “we come to the purpose of our meeting. Lady Bashere, Master Aybara. Is there a boon you would ask in return for the gift you have given to Andor?”
Perrin rested his hand on his hammer, then looked to Faile questioningly. Obviously, Elayne expected them to ask for him to be named formally a lord. Or, perhaps, to ask forbearance for impersonating one, along with a formal pardon. Either direction could be a result of this conversation.
Faile was tempted to demand the first. It would be a simple answer. But perhaps too simple; there were things Faile had to know before they could proceed. “Your Majesty,” Faile said, carefully, “might we discuss this boon in a more intimate setting?”
Elayne gave that some thought—at least thirty seconds’ worth, which seemed an infinity. “Very well. My sitting room is prepared.”
Faile nodded, and a servant opened a small door on the left-hand wall of the throne room. Perrin walked toward it, then held up a hand to Gaul, Sulin and Arganda. “Wait here.” He hesitated, glancing at Grady. “You, too.”
None of them seemed to like that, but they obeyed. They’d been warned this might happen.
Faile contained her nervousness—she didn’t like leaving the Asha’man, their best means of escape. Particularly since Elayne undoubtedly had spies and Guards hidden inside the sitting room, ready to spring out should matters turn dangerous. Faile would have liked a similar protection, but bringing a male channeler in to speak with the Queen…well, this was how it would have to be. They were in Elayne’s domain.
Faile took a deep breath, joining Perrin, Alliandre and Morgase in the small side room. Chairs had been arranged; Elayne had foreseen this possibility. They waited for Elayne to enter before sitting. Faile couldn’t see any place for Guards to be hiding.
Elayne entered and waved a hand. The Great Serpent ring on her finger glittered in the lamplight. Faile had nearly forgotten that she was Aes Sedai. Perhaps there weren’t any Guardsmen lurking around to help—a woman who could channel was as dangerous as a dozen soldiers.
Which of the rumors regarding the father of Elayne’s child were to be believed? Surely not the ones about that fool of a man in her Guard—that was most likely obfuscation. Could it possibly be Rand himself?
Morgase entered after Elayne. She wore a subdued gown of deep red. She sat down beside her daughter, watching carefully, remaining silent.
“So,” Elayne said, “explain to me why I shouldn’t just execute you both as traitors.”
Faile blinked in surprise. Perrin, however, snorted. “I don’t think Rand would think very highly of that move.”
“I’m not beholden to him,” Elayne said. “You expect me to believe that he was behind you seducing my citizens and naming yourself a king?”
“You have a few of your facts backward, Your Majesty,” Faile said testily. “Perrin never named himself king.”
“Oh, and did he raise the flag of Manetheren, as my informants tell me he did?” Elayne asked.
“I did that,” Perrin said. “But I put it away of my own choice.”
“Well, that’s something,” Elayne replied. “You may not have called yourself a king, but holding up that banner was essentially the same thing. Oh, sit down, all of you.” She waved a hand. A tray lifted off the far table and floated over to her. It bore goblets and a pitcher of wine, as well as a teapot and cups.
Fetching it with the One Power, Faile thought. It’s a reminder of her strength. A rather unsubtle one.
“Still,” Elayne said, “I will do the best for my realm, regardless of the cost.”
“I doubt that upsetting the Two Rivers,” Alliandre said hesitantly, “would be best for your realm. Executing their leader would undoubtedly throw the region into rebellion.”
“So far as I’m concerned,” Elayne said, pouring several cups of tea, “they’re already in rebellion.”
“We came to you peacefully,” Faile said. “Hardly the action of rebels.”
Elayne took a sip of the tea first, as was the custom, to prove it wasn’t poisoned. “My envoys to the Two Rivers have been refused, and your people there gave me a message—and I quote—‘The lands of Lord Perrin Goldeneyes refuse your Andoran taxes. Tai’shar Manetheren!’”
Alliandre paled. Perrin groaned softly, a sound that came out faintly like a growl. Faile took her cup and sipped her tea—mint, with cloudberries; it was good. The Two Rivers folk had pluck, that was certain.
“These are passionate times, Your Majesty,” Faile said. “Surely you can see that the people might be concerned; the Two Rivers has not often been a priority for your throne.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Perrin added with a snort. “Most of us grew up not knowing we were part of Andor. You ignored us.”
“That was because the area wasn’t rising in rebellion.” Elayne sipped her tea.
“Rebellion isn’t the only reason men might need the attention of the queen who claims them,” Perrin said. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but last year we faced Trollocs on our own, and without a whisker of help from the Crown. You’d have helped if you’d known, but the fact that there were no troops nearby—none capable of knowing our danger—says something.”
Elayne hesitated.
“The Two Rivers has rediscovered its history,” Faile said carefully. “It couldn’t rest forever, not with Tarmon Gai’don looming. Not after sheltering the Dragon Reborn during his childhood. Part of me wonders if Manetheren had to fall, if the Two Rivers had to rise, to provide a place for Rand al’Thor to be raised. Among farmers with the blood—and obstinacy—of kings.”
“Which makes it all the more important that I quiet things now,” Elayne said. “I offered you a boon so that you could ask for forgiveness. I’d pardon you, and I’ll be certain to send troops so that your people are protected. Accept this, and we can all go back to life the way it should be.”
“That isn’t going to happen,” Perrin said softly. “The Two Rivers will have lords, now. I fought it for a time. You may, too, but it won’t change anything.”
“Perhaps,” Elayne said. “But recognizing you would be to agree that a man can just claim a title within my nation, then keep it by stubbornly gathering an army. It makes for a terrible precedent, Perrin. I don’t think you realize the predicament you’ve put me in.”
“We’ll muddle through,” Perrin said in that stubborn tone he used when he wasn’t going to budge. “I’m not stepping down.”
“You’re doing a poor job of persuading me you will accept my authority,” Elayne snapped.
Not good, Faile thought, opening her mouth to jump in. A clash here would not serve them well.
Before she could speak, however, another voice cut in. “Daughter,” Morgase said softly, drinking her tea. “If you plan to dance with ta’veren, be sure that you know the proper steps. I’ve traveled with this man. I’ve seen the world bend around him; I’ve seen bitter enemies become his allies. To fight the Pattern itself is to try to move a mountain with a spoon.”
Elayne hesitated, looking at her mother.
“Please forgive me if I overstep myself,” Morgase continued. “But Elayne, I promised these two that I would speak for them. I told you I would. Andor is strong, but I fear it could break itself against this man. He does not want your throne, I promise it, and the Two Rivers does need supervision. Would it be such a terrible thing to let them have the man they themselves have chosen?”
The small room fell silent. Elayne eyed Perrin, sizing him up. Faile held her breath.
“All right,” Elayne said. “I assume you’ve come with demands. Let’s hear them so we can discover if there’s anything that can be done.”
“No demands,” Faile said. “An offer.”
Elayne raised an eyebrow.
“Your mother is right,” Faile said. “Perrin does not want your throne.”
“What you two want may be irrelevant once your people get an idea in their minds.”
Faile shook her head. “They love him, Your Majesty. They respect him. They’ll do what he says. We can and will put down ideas of Manetheren rising again.”
“And why would you do that?” Elayne asked. “I know how fast the Two Rivers is growing with those refugees coming in over the mountains. Nations could rise and fall with the coming of the Last Battle. You have no reason to give up the chance to form your own kingdom.”
“Actually,” Faile said, “we have good reason. Andor is a strong nation, and prosperous. The towns in the Two Rivers may be growing rapidly, but the people have barely begun to want a lord. They’re still farmers at heart. They don’t want glory; they want their crops to survive.” Faile paused. “Perhaps you’re right, perhaps there will be another Breaking, but that’s only more reason to have allies. Nobody wants civil war in Andor, least of all the Two Rivers folk.”
“What do you propose, then?” Elayne said.
“Nothing, really, that doesn’t exist already,” Faile said. “Give Perrin an official title and make him High Lord over the Two Rivers.”