Chapter Text
Nynaeve dropped into the large, padded chair, the twin to Moiraine’s. Inhaling the steam from from the large mug of tea, she willed the soothing properties to seep into her senses.
The unveiling of Lan’s monument had been as trying as she’d feared.
One year already, since his presence had simply vanished from her mind. No foreboding, no pain.
Simply gone.
They’d found him in the stables, just where she said he’d be. Inspecting the latest foal from Mandarb’s line. The bond had thrummed with contentment all morning, until it winked out.
That had made it hard to feel to bitter. Selfish.
“It’s best when it happens that way,” Moiraine sighed. Days later, when Nynaeve’s tears had finally run dry. “For them, of course.”
Thom’s end hadn’t been as peaceful. But then, Moiraine hadn’t had to endure the brouhaha of a state funeral. Public mourning. The casting of rods and coronation of the new monarch.
She was Lan’s dowager, now. A fifty-copper word, if ever she’d heard one. It marked her the beloved mother of Malkier’s new King, the respected mother-in-law of his Queen.
The has-been.
al’Maric and his wife had stood dutifully by her side, of course. Sharing the burden of greeting the dignitaries and public. Lending their strength as the Great Lords—too many blowhards, among them—gushed over Lan’s glorious accomplishments. His victory over Demandred. Purging the jumara and cleansing the Lakes. Rebuilding the Seven Towers. Resurrecting the Motherland, in all her storied glory.
It was Moiraine’s companionship, that Nynaeve most appreciated now. She understood.
“He made a passable rabbit stew,” the Blue murmured softly, between the interminable speeches.
“Mmn,” Nynaeve hummed in agreement.
The unveiling had been the grieving widow’s final, official duty. And so, with as much grace as she could muster, she’d endured the exclamations over the likeness of the hewn rock. As though a cold chunk of stone could compare the man who’d blazed in her heart for over forty years!
It looked nothing like him.
“What are you going to do, now?” Moiraine asked. What indeed? She’d be expected to cut her hair. Retire from the world.
“Get away,” Nynaeve exhaled slowly. “To the Tower, perhaps. Until I figure the rest out, anyway.”
“The Hall will certainly be wanting to get their hooks into you,” her Sister observed. “I’d not rush into it. Surely the children aren’t in a hurry to see you go.”
“It’s their time now,” she said resolutely. Too quickly, the children had grown. She and Lan had taken pains in their raising, pride in their accomplishments and, respecting Malkieri tradition, she’d guided them towards suitable partners. Equipping them with the good sense to choose for themselves, as it should be. They were adults now, with broods of their own. Their collective mourning had been deep and heartfelt, but it was time to move on.
Al Chalidholara Malkier.
“They don’t need me in their way,” Nynaeve said. Moiraine inclined a nod. She had always been unflinching in her pragmatism.
“What about Emond’s Field?”
“Far too grand now,” she sniffed. The small village had flourished under the Lord Aybara’s remote oversight from Maradon. Had grown so much, it was hardly recognizable. “It has been a long time.”
A lengthy silence fell over the women, as they stared into the fire.
“There are many places still that have not much changed,” Moiraine said after a time. “I have a mind to revisit some of the places Lan and I once traversed. Too often, the mission hastened our journey, when he advised a day or two of rest.
“You should,” Nynaeve blinked back the hot wetness suddenly blurring her vision. “He’d have wanted that for you.”
“Not just me.” Moiraine produced a well-worn, leatherbound volume and passed it to her. She thumbed through the pages curiously. The familiar, bold strokes of his penmanship leapt from the parchment, annotating dozens of hand-drawn maps interspersed with diary entries and sketches. A travel journal. The book was a treasure.
“He pressed it into my hands after Rand’s funeral,” Moiraine explained. “Urged me to revisit some of those places with Thom. And we did. But now I think, perhaps, that wasn’t his sole purpose… Imagine seeing the world through his eyes.”
As she caught the full import of the other woman’s suggestion, Nynaeve’s heart lifted. For the first time in a year, she felt something akin to… excitement?
“It’s unwise for any woman to travel alone,” Moiraine offered gently. “We can go together, if you wish.”