"Robert Jordan - The Wheel of Time 07 - A Crown of Swords" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jordan Robert)

wrapped in swaddling and kept safe as an infant in his mother's arms until time to take him to Shayol Ghul. After that,
if he survived....
Elaida's lips pursed. The Prophecies of the Dragon seemed to say he would not, which undeniably would be for the
best.
"Mother?" Elaida almost gave a start as Alviarin spoke. Entering without so much as a knock! "I have word from the
Ajahs, Mother." Slim and cool-faced, Alviarin wore the Keeper's narrow stole in white, matching her dress, to show
she had been raised from the White, but in her mouth тАЬMother'' became less a title of respect and more an address to an
equal.
Alviarin's presence was enough to dent Elaida's good mood. That the Keeper of Chronicles came from the White, not
the Red, always served as a biting reminder of her weakness when she was first raised. Some of that had been
dispelled, true, but not all. Not yet. She was tired of regretting that she had so few personal eyes-and-ears outside
Andor. And that her predecessor and Alviarin's had escapedтАФ been helped to escape; they must have had help!тАФ
escaped before the keys to the Amyrlin's great network could be wrested out of them.
She more than wanted the network that was hers by right. By strong tradition the Ajahs sent to the Keeper whatever
dribbles from their own eyes-and-ears they were willing to share with the Amyrlin, but Elaida was convinced the
woman kept back some of even that trickle. Yet she could not ask the Ajahs for information directly. Bad enough to be
weak without going begging to the world. The Tower, anyway, which was as much of the world as really counted.
Elaida kept her own face every bit as cool as the other woman's, acknowledging her only with a nod while she
pretended to examine papers from the lacquered box. Slowly she turned them over one by one, returned them to the
box slowly. Without really seeing a word. Making Alviarin wait was bitter, because it was petty, and petty ways were
all she had to strike at one who should have been her servant.
An Amyrlin could issue any decree she wished, her word law and absolute. Yet as a practical matter, without support
from the Hall of the Tower, many of those decrees were wasted ink and paper. No sister would disobey an Amyrlin, not
directly at least, yet many decrees required a hundred other things ordered to implement them. In the best of times that
could come slowly, on occasion so slowly it never happened, and these were far from the best.
Alviarin stood there, calm as a frozen pond. Closing the Altaran box, Elaida kept out the strip of paper that announced
her sure victory. Unconsciously she fingered it, a talisman. "Has Teslyn or Mine finally deigned to send more than
word of their safe arrival?"
That was meant to remind Alviarin that no one could consider herself immune. Nobody cared what happened in Ebou
Dar, Elaida least of all; the capital of Altara could fall into the sea, and except for the merchants, not even the rest of
Altara would notice. But Teslyn had sat in the Hall nearly fifteen years before Elaida had commanded her to resign her
chair. If Elaida could send a SitterтАФ a Red SitterтАФ who had supported her rise off as ambassador to a flyspeck throne
with no one sure why but a hundred rumors flowering, then she could come down on anyone. Joline was a different
matter. She had held her chair for the Green only a matter of weeks, and everyone was sure the Greens had selected her
to show they would not be cowed by the new Amyrlin, who had handed her a fearsome penance. That bit of insolence
could not be allowed to pass, of 'course, and had not been. Everyone knew that, too.
It was meant to remind Alviarin that she was vulnerable, but the slim woman merely smiled her cool smile. So long as
the Hall remained as it was, she was immune. She riffled through the papers in her hand, plucking one out. "No word
from Teslyn or Joline, Mother, no, though with the news you have received so far from the thrones...." That smile
deepened into something dangerously close to amusement. "They all mean to try their wings, to see if you are as strong
as... as your predecessor." Even Alviarin had enough sense not to speak the Sanche woman's name in her presence. It
was true, though; every king and queen, even mere nobles, seemed to be testing the limits of her power. She must make
examples.
Glancing at the paper, Alviarin went on. "There is word from Ebou Dar, however. Through the Gray." Had she
emphasized that, to drive the splinter deeper? "It appears Elayne Trakand and Nynaeve al'Meara are there. Posing as
full sisters, with the blessings of the rebel... embassy ... to Queen Tylin. There are two others, not identified, who may
be doing the same. The lists of who is with the rebels are incomplete. Or they may just be companions. The Grays are
uncertain."
"Why under the Light would they be in Ebou Dar?" Elaida said dismissively. Certainly Teslyn would have sent news of
that. "The Gray must be passing along rumors, now. Tarna's message said they are with the rebels in Salidar." Tarna