Robert Jordan & Brandon Sanderson - [Wheel of Time 13]

by Towers of Midnight (v1. 2) (epub)

  Graendal sat back in her chair. The leather cushions were stuffed with the down of the fledgling kallir, which during this Age lived only in Shara. She barely noticed the luxury.

  The servant one Moridin had loaned her was on one knee before her. His eyes were tempestuous, and only half-lowered. This one was under control, but barely. He knew he was unique.

  He also seemed to know that his failure would fall upon her shoulders. Graendal did not sweat. She was too controlled for that. The shutters on the window in the wide, red-tiled room burst open suddenly, a cold sea wind blowing through the chamber and putting out several of the lamps. Tendrils of smoke wove up from their wicks.

  She would not fail.

  "Prepare to spring the trap anyway," she commanded. "But- " the servant said.

  "Do it, and do not speak back to one of the Chosen, dog." The servant lowered his eyes, though there was still a rebellious spark to them.

  Never mind. She still had one tool left to her, one she had positioned so very carefully. One she had prepared for a moment such as this.

  It had to be done carefully. Aybara was ta'veren, and so strongly one as to be frightening. Arrows fired from afar would miss, and in a time of peaceful contemplation, he would be alerted and escape.

  She needed a tempest with him at the center of it. And then, the blade would fall. This is not done yet, Fallen Blacksmith. Not by an inch or by a league.

  CHAPTER 39

  In the Three-fold Land

  Aviendha felt right again. There was a calming perfection to the Three-fold Land. Wet-landers thought the landscape's uniform colors drab, but Aviendha found them beautiful. Simple browns and tans. They were familiar and dependable, not like the wetlands, where both the landscape and the weather wete different every time you turned around.

  Aviendha ran forward in the darkening night, each foot falling on dusty ground. For the first time in many months, she felt alone. In the wetlands, she always felt as if she was being watched by some enemy she could not see or attack.

  Not that the Three-fold Land was safer. Far from it. That shadowed patch beneath the nadra-scrub was the den of a lethal snake. If one brushed the spindly branches, the snake would strike; she had seen five men die from those bites. The den was merely one of the many hazards she passed during her run to Rhuidean. But those dangers were understandable. She could see them, measure them and avoid them. If she died from the snake's bite or fell to the land's heat, the fault would be her own.

  It was always preferable to face the enemy of the danger you could see than to fear the one that hid behind the faces of lying wetlanders.

  She continued running, despite the dimming light. It was good to sweat again. People didn't sweat enough in the wetlands; perhaps that was what made them so unusual. Instead of letting the sun warm them, they sought refreshment. Instead of going to a proper sweat tent to get clean, they submersed themselves in water. That couldn't be healthy.

  She would not lie to herself. Aviendha herself had partaken of those luxuries, and she had come to enjoy those baths and the fine dresses Elayne forced upon her. One had to acknowledge one's weaknesses before one could defeat them. Now, as she ran across the gently sloping earth of the Three-fold Land, Aviendha's perspective was restored.

  Finally, she slowed. As tempting as it was to travel in the dark and sleep through the day's heat, it was not wise. A misstep in the dark could end your life. She quickly collected some dead tak-brush. and some ina'ta bark, then made herself a camp at the side of a tremendous stone.

  Soon she had a fire burning, the orange light reflecting off the rock that towered over her. She'd slain a small shellback earlier, and she unwrapped it, skinned it, then set it up on a spit. Not the most delicate of meals, but satisfactory.

  Aviendha settled down, watching the fire crackle, smelling the meat. Yes, she was glad she hadn't Traveled directly to Rhuidean, instead taking the time precious though that time was to run in the Three-fold Land. It helped her see what she had been, and what she had become. Aviendha the Maiden was gone. She had embraced her path as a Wise One, and that brought her honor back. She had purpose again. As a Wise One, she could help lead her people through their most trying time.

  Once this was through, her people would need to return to the Threefold Land. Each day in the wetlands made them weaker; she herself was an excellent example. She had grown soft there. How could one not grow soft in that place? It would have to be abandoned. Soon.

  She smiled, settling back and closing her eyes for a moment, letting the day's fatigue melt away. Her future seemed so much more clear. She was to visit Rhuidean, pass through the crystal columns, then return and claim her share of Rand's heart. She would fight at the Last Battle. She would help preserve the remnant of the Aiel who survived, then bring them home where they belonged.

  A sound came from outside her camp.

  Aviendha opened her eyes and jumped up, embracing the Source. A piece of her was pleased that she now instinctively looked to the One Power, rather than spears that were not there. She wove a globe of light.

  A woman stood in the darkness nearby, wearing Aiel garb. Not cadin'sor or the garb of a Wise One, but normal clothing: a dark skirt and a tan blouse and shawl, a kerchief on her graying hair. She was middle-aged, and she carried no weapons. She was still.

  Aviendha glanced to the sides. Was this an ambush? Or was this woman a spectet? One of the dead walking? Why hadn't Aviendha heard her approach?

  "Greetings, Wise One," the woman said, bowing het head. "Might I share water with you? I am traveling far, and saw your fire." The woman had furrowed skin, and she could not channel Aviendha could sense that easily.

  "I am not yet a Wise One," Aviendha said, wary. "I currently take my second path into Rhuidean."

  "Then you will soon find much honor," the woman said. "I am Nakomi. I promise that I mean you no harm, child."

  Suddenly, Aviendha felt foolish. The woman had approached without weapons drawn. Aviendha had been disttacted by her thoughts; that was why she hadn't heard Nakomi approach. "Of course, please."

  "Thank you," Nakomi said, stepping into the light and setting down het pack beside the small fire. She clicked her tongue, then drew some small branches out of her pack to build up the flames. She removed a pot for tea. "Might I have some of that water?"

  Aviendha got out a watetskin. She could hardly spare a drop she was still several days from Rhuidean but it would give offense not to respond to the request after offering to share shade.

  Nakomi took the waterskin and filled her teapot, which she then set beside the fite to warm. "It is an unexpected pleasure," Nakomi said, rifling through her pack, "to cross the path of one on her way to Rhuidean. Tell me, was your apprenticeship long?"

  "Too long," Aviendha said. "Though primarily because of my own stubbornness."

  "Ah," Nakomi said. "You have the air of a warrior about you, child. Tell me, ate you from among those who went west? The ones who joined the one named the Car'a'carn?"

  "He is the Car'a'carn" Aviendha said.

  "I did not say that he was not," Nakomi said, sounding amused. She got out some tea leaves and hetbs.

  No. She hadn't said so. Aviendha turned het shellback, and het stomach fumbled. She'd need to share her meal with Nakomi as well.

  "May I ask," Nakomi said. "What do you think of the Car'a'carnT'

  I love him, Aviendha thought immediately. But she couldn't say that. "I think he has much honor. And though he is ignorant of the proper ways, he is learning."

  "You have spent time with him, then?"

  "Some," Aviendha said. Then, to be more honest, she added, "More than most."

  "He is a wetlander," Nakomi said, thoughtful. "And Car'a'carn. Tell me, are the wetlands as glorious as so many say? Rivers so wide you cannot see the other side, plants so full of water they burst when squeezed?"

  "The wetlands are not glorious," Aviendha said. "They are dangerous. They make us weak."

  Nakomi frowned. />
  Who is this woman? It was not unusual to find Aiel traveling the Waste; even children learned to protect themselves. But should Nakomi not be traveling with friends, family? She did not wear the clothing of a Wise One, but there was something about her . . .

  Nakomi stirred the tea, then repositioned Aviendha's shellback, placing it over the coals to cook it more evenly. From inside her pack, she drew forth several deepearth roots. Aviendha's mother had always cooked those. Nakomi placed them in a small ceramic baking box, then slid this into the coals. Aviendha hadn't realized the fire had grown so warm. Where had all those coals come from?

  "You seem troubled," Nakomi said. "Far be it for me to question an apprentice Wise One. But I do see worry in your eyes."

  Aviendha stifled a grimace. She would have preferred to be left alone. And yet, she had invited this woman to share her water and shade. "I am worried about our people. Dangerous times come."

  "The Last Battle," Nakomi said softly. "The thing the wetlanders speak of."

  "Yes. I worry about something beyond that. The wetlands, corrupting our people. Making them soft."

  "But the wetlands are part of our destiny, are they not? The things the Car'a'carn is said to have revealed . . . they link us to the wetlands in curious ways. Assuming what he said was true."

  "He would not lie about this," Aviendha said.

  A small wake of buzzards cawed and flapped past in the dark night air. Aviendha's people's history the things Rand al'Thor had revealed still caused many of the Aiel grief. In Rhuidean, Aviendha would soon see this history for herself: that the Aiel had broken their vows. Aviendha's people had once followed, then abandoned, the Way of the Leaf.

  "Interesting thoughts you raise, apprentice," Nakomi said, pouring the tea. "Our land here is called the Three-fold Land. Three-fold, for the three things it did to us. It punished us for sin. It tested our courage. It formed an anvil to shape us."

  "The Three-fold Land makes us strong. So, by leaving it, we become weak."

  "But if we had to come here to be forged into something of strength," Nakomi said, "does that not suggest that the tests we were to face in the wetlands were as dangerous as the Thtee-fold-land itself? So dangerous and difficult that we had to come here to prepare for them?" She shook her head. "Ah, but I should not argue with a Wise One, not even an apprentice. I have toh"

  "There is never toh for speaking wise words," Aviendha said. "Tell me, Nakomi, where is it you travel? Which sept is your own?"

  "I am far from my roof," the woman said, wistful, "yet not far at all. Perhaps it is far from me. I cannot answer your question, apprentice, for it is not my place to give this truth."

  Aviendha frowned. What kind of answer was that?

  "It seems to me," Nakomi said, "that by breaking our ancient oaths to do no violence, our people have gained great toh"

  "Yes," Aviendha said. What did you do when yout entité people had done something so awful? This realization was what had caused so many of the Aiel to be taken by the bleakness. They had thrown down their spears, or refused to temove the white of gai'shain, implying that their people had such great toh, it could never be met.

  But they were wrong. The Aiel toh could be met it had to be met. That was the purpose of serving the Car'a'carn, the teptesentative of the ones to whom the Aiel had originally sworn their oaths.

  "We will meet our toh" Aviendha said. "By fighting in the Last Battle."

  The Aiel would therefore regain their honor. Once you paid toh, you forgot it. To temember a fault that had been repaid was arrogant. They would be finished. They could return and no longer feel shame for what had happened in the past. Aviendha nodded to herself.

  "And so," Nakomi said, handing over a cup of tea, "the Three-fold Land was our punishment. We came here to grow so that we could meet our toh!'

  "Yes," Aviendha said. It felt clear to her.

  "So, once we have fought fot the Car'a'carn, we will have met that toh. And therefore will have no reason to be punished further. If that is the case, why would we return to this land? Would that not be like seeking more punishment, once toh is met?"

  Aviendha froze. But no, that was silly. She did not want to atgue with Nakomi on the point, but the Aiel belonged in the Three-fold Land.

  "People of the Dragon," Nakomi said, sipping her tea. "That is what we are. Serving the Dragon was the point behind everything we did. Our customs, our raids on each other, our harsh training . . . our very way of life!'

  "Yes," Aviendha said.

  "And so," Nakomi said softly, "once Sightblinder is defeated, what is left for us? Perhaps this is why so many refused to follow the Car'a'carn. Because they worried at what it meant. Why continue the old ways? How do we find honor in raiding, in killing one another, if we are no longer preparing for such an important task? Why grow harder? For the sake of being hard itself?"

  "I . . ."

  "I'm sorry," Nakomi said. "I've let myself ramble again. I am prone to it, I fear. Here, let us eat."

  Aviendha started. Surely the roots weren't done yet. However, Nakomi pulled them out, and they smelled wonderful. She cut the shellback, fishing a pair of tin plates from her pack. She seasoned the meat and roots, then passed a plate to Aviendha.

  She tasted hesitantly. The food was delicious. Wonderful, even. Better than many a feast she'd had in fine palaces back in the wetlands. She stared at the plate, amazed.

  "If you'll excuse me," Nakomi said. "I need to see to nature." She smiled, rising, then shuffled off into the darkness.

  Aviendha ate quietly, disturbed by what had been said. Was not a wonderful meal like this, cooked over a fire and made from humble ingredients, proof that the luxury of the wetlands wasn't needed?

  But what was the purpose of the Aiel now? If they did not wait for the Car'a'carn, what did they do? Fight, yes. And then? Continue to kill one another on raids? To what end?

  She finished her meal, then thought for a long time. Too long. Nakomi did not return. Worried, Aviendha went to search for her, but found no trace of the woman.

  Upon returning to the fire, Aviendha saw that Nakomi's pack and plate were gone. She waited up for a time, but the woman did not return.

  Eventually, Aviendha went to sleep, feeling troubled.

  CHAPTER 40

  A Making

  Perrin sat alone on a tree stump, eyes closed and face to the dark sky. The camp was situated, the gateway closed, and reports taken. Perrin finally had time to rest.

  That was dangerous. Resting let him think. Thinking brought him memories. Memories brought pain.

  He could smell the world on the wind. Layers of scents, swirling together. The camp around him: sweaty people, spices for cooking, soaps for cleaning, horse dung, emotions. The hills around them: dried pine needles, mud from a stream, the carcass of a dead animal. The world beyond: hints of dust from the distant road, a stand of lavender that somehow survived in the dying world.

  There was no pollen. There were no wolves. Both seemed terrible signs to him.

  He felt sick. Physically ill, as if his stomach were filled with muddy swamp water, rotting moss and bits of dead beetles. He wanted to scream. He wanted to find Slayer and kill him, pound fists on the man's face until the blood engulfed it.

  Footsteps approached. Faile. "Perrin? Do you want to talk?"

  He opened his eyes. He should be crying, screaming. But he felt so cold. Cold and furious. Those two didn't go together for him.

  His tent had been set up nearby; its flaps fluttered in the wind. Nearby, Gaul reclined against a leatherleaf sapling. In the distance, one of the farriers worked late. Soft peals in the night. "I failed, Faile," Perrin whispered.

  "You got the ter'angreal" she said, kneeling beside him. "You saved the people."

  "And still Slayer beat us," he said bitterly. "A pack of five of us together weren't enough to fight him."

  Perrin had felt this way when he'd found his family dead, killed by Trollocs. How many was the Shadow going to take from
him by the time this was done? Hopper should have been safe in the wolf dream.

  Foolish cub, foolish cub.

  Had there even really been a trap for Perrin's army? Slayer's dreamspike could have been meant for another purpose entirely. Just a coincidence. There are no coincidences for ta'veren . . .

  He needed to find something to do with his anger and his pain. He stood, turning, and was surprised to see how many lights still shone in camp. A group of people waited nearby, far enough away from him that he hadn't made out their scents specifically. Alliandre in a golden gown. Berelain in blue. Both sat on chairs beside a small wooden travel table, set with a lantern. Elyas sat on a rock beside them, sharpening his knife. A dozen of the Two Rivers men Wil al'Seen, Jon Ayellin and Grayor Frenn among them huddled around a firepit, glancing at him. Even Arganda and Gal-lenne were there, speaking softly.

  "They should be sleeping," Perrin said.

  "They're worried about you," Faile said. She smelled worried as well. "And they're worried you will send them away, now that gateways work again."

  "Fools," Perrin whispered. "Fools to follow me. Fools not to hide."

  "You'd really have them do that?" Faile said, angry. "Cower someplace while the Last Battle happens? Didn't you say every man would be needed?"

  She was right. Every man would be needed. He realized that part of his frustration was that he didn't know what he'd escaped. He'd gotten away, but from what? For what had Hopper died? Not knowing the enemy's plan made Perrin feel blind.

  He walked away from the stump, over to where Arganda and Gallenne were talking. "Bring me our map," he said. "Of the Jehannah Road."

  Arganda called over Hirshanin and told him where to find one. Hirshanin ran off, and Perrin began to walk through camp. Toward the sound of metal hitting metal, the farrier working. Perrin seemed drawn to it. The scents of camp swirled around him, the sky rumbling above him.

  The others trailed after him. Faile, Berelain and Alliandre, the Two Rivets men, Elyas, Gaul. The group grew, other Two Rivers men joining it. Nobody spoke, and Perrin ignored them, until he came to Aemin working at an anvil, one of the camp's horse-pulled forges set up beside him and burning with a red light.