A crown of swords by Robert Jordan

Author:Robert Jordan
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: Fantasy - Epic, Kidnapping, Rand al'Thor (Fictitious character), Fantasy fiction, Fantasy - Series, Fiction, Fantasy, Weather, Fiction - Fantasy, Epic, General, Rescues
ISBN: 9780812550283
Publisher: T. Doherty Associates
Published: 1997-09-29T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

20

Patterns Within Patterns

Contemptuously Sevanna studied her dusty companions, seated in a circle with her in the small clearing. The nearly leafless branches overhead provided a bit of cool shade, and the place where Rand al’Thor had hurled death lay more than a hundred miles to the west, yet the other women’s eyes shifted with an air of looking over shoulders. Without sweat tents, none had been able to clean herself properly, no more than a hasty washing of face and hands at day’s end. Eight small silver cups, all different, sat by her side on the dead leaves, and a silver pitcher, filled with water, that had been dented in the retreat.

“Either the Car’a’carn is not following,” she said abruptly, “or he has been unable to find us. Either contents me.”

Some of them actually jumped. Tion’s round face paled, and Modarra patted her shoulder. Modarra would have been pretty if she was not so tall, if she did not always try to mother everyone within reach. Alarys became much too intent on straightening skirts already neatly spread around her, attempting to ignore what she did not want to see. Meira’s thin mouth drew down, but who could say whether for the others’ open fear of the Car’a’carn or her own? They had reason to be afraid.

Two full days since the battle, and fewer than twenty thousand spears had grouped around Sevanna. Therava and most of the Wise Ones who had been to the west were still absent, including all the rest who were tied to her. Some of the missing surely were making their way back to Kinslayer’s Dagger, but how many would never again see the sun rise? No one remembered such a slaughter, so many dead in so short a time. Even the algai’d’siswai were not truly ready to dance the spears again so soon. Reason to be afraid, yet none for showing it, displaying heart and soul on your face like a wetlander, open and naked for all to see. Rhiale at least seemed to realize that much. “If we are to do this thing, let us do it,” she muttered, stiff with embarrassment. She was one who had jumped.

Sevanna took the small gray cube from her pouch and placed it atop the brown leaves in the middle of the circle. Someryn put her hands on her knees, leaning over to examine it until she appeared in danger of falling out of her blouse. Her nose nearly touched the cube. Intricate patterns covered every side, and close up you could see smaller patterns within the larger, and still smaller inside those, and a hint of what seemed smaller yet. How they could have been made, the tiniest so fine, so precise, Sevanna had no idea. Once she had thought the cube stone, but she was no longer certain. Yesterday she had dropped it accidentally on some rocks without marring one line of the carving. If it was carving. The thing must be a ter’angreal; that they knew.

“The

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