The Gathering Storm

by Brandon Sanderson

Page 124

  Oh, she thought, closing her eyes again. Good. Such a pleasant dream. She smiled.

  Wait. No. That wasnt right. She wasnt supposed to be leaving the Tower. She tried to voice complaint, but she could barely mumble.

  "Fish guts," she heard Siuan Sanche say. "What did they do to her?"

  "Is she wounded?" another voice. Gareth Bryne.

  No, Egwene thought numbly. No, you have to let me go. 1 cant leave. Not now. . . .

  "They just left her there, Siuan," Gawyn said. His voice was so nice to hear. "Defenseless in the hallway! Anyone could have come upon her like that. What if the Seanchan had discovered her?"

  I destroyed them, she thought with a smile, thoughts slipping away from her. I was a burning warrior, a hero called by the Horn. They wont dare face me again. She almost fell asleep, but being jostled by Gawyns steps kept her awake. Barely.

  "Ho!" She distantly heard Siuans voice. "Whats this? Light, Egwene! Where did you get this? This is the most powerful one in the Tower!"

  "What is it, Siuan?" Brynes voice asked.

  "Our way out," Siuan said distantly. Egwene sensed something. Channeling. Powerful channeling. "You asked about sneaking back out with all the activity in the courtyard? Well, with this, Im strong enough for Traveling. Lets go collect those soldiers with the boats and hop back to camp. "

  No! Egwene thought, clawing through her drowsiness, forcing her eyes open. Im winning, dont you see? If I offer leadership now, when the rubble is being cleared, theyll see me as Amy rI in for certain! I have to stay! I have to—

  Gawyn carried her through the gateway, leaving the hallways of the White Tower behind.

  Saerin finally let herself sit. The gathering room that was her center of operations had also become a room for separating and Healing the wounded. Yellow and Brown sisters moved down the lines of soldiers, servants, and other sisters, focusing on the worst cases first. There were a frightful number of dead, including over twenty Aes Sedai so far. But the Seanchan had withdrawn, as Saerin had predicted. Thank the light for that.

  Saerin herself sat at the far northwestern corner of the room, beneath a fine painting of Tear in spring, perched on a short stool and accepting reports as they came. The wounded groaned and the room smelled of blood and of healall, which was used on those whose wounds didnt demand immediate Healing. The room also smelled of smoke. That was ever-present tonight. More and more soldiers approached her, handing in reports of damage and casualties. Saerin didnt want to read further, but it was better than listening to those groans. Where under the Light was Elaida?

  Nobody had seen anything of the Amyrlin during the battle, but much of the upper Tower had been cut off from the lower portions. Hopefully, the Amyrlin and the Hall could be gathered soon to present a strong leadership in the crisis.

  Saerin accepted another report, then raised her eyebrows at what it said. Only three novices in Egwenes group of over sixty had died? And only one sister out of some forty she had gathered? Ten Seanchan chan-nelers captured, over thirty raken blown from the air? Light! That made Saerins own efforts seem downright amateur by comparison. And this was the woman Elaida kept trying to insist was simply a novice?

  "Saerin Sedai?" a mans voice asked.

  "Hmm?" she asked, distracted.

  "You should hear what this Accepted has to say. "

  Saerin looked up, realizing that the voice belonged to Captain Chubain. He had his hand on the shoulder of a young Arafellin Accepted with blue eyes and a plump round face. What was her name? Mair, that was it. The poor child looked ragged. Her face sported a number of cuts and some scrapes that would likely bruise. Her Accepted dress was ripped on the sleeve and shoulder.

  "Child?" Saerin asked, glancing at Chubains worried face. What was wrong?

  "Saerin Sedai," the girl whispered, curtsying, then wincing at the action. "I. . . . "

  "Spit it out, child," Saerin demanded. "This isnt a night for dawdling. "

  Mair looked down. "Its the Amyrlin, Saerin Sedai. Elaida Sedai. I was attending her tonight, taking transcriptions for her. And. . . . "

  "And what?" Saerin said, feeling a growing chill.

  The girl started crying. "The entire wall burst in, Saerin Sedai. The rubble covered me; I think they thought I was dead. I couldnt do anything! Im sorry!"

  Light intercede! Saerin thought. She cant be saying what I think she is. Can she?

  Elaida awoke to a very odd sensation. Why was her bed moving? Rippling, undulating. So rhythmic. And that wind! Had Carlya left the window open? If so, the maid would be beaten. Shed been warned. Shed been—

  This was not her bed. Elaida opened her eyes and found herself looking down at a dark landscape hundreds of feet below. She was tied to the back of some strange beast. She couldnt move. Why couldnt she move? She reached for the Source, then felt a sudden, sharp pain, as though she had suddenly been beaten on every inch of her body with a thousand rods.

  She reached up, dazed, feeling the collar at her throat. There was a dark figure riding in the saddle next to her; no lanterns lit the womans face, but Elaida could feel her somehow. Elaida could just barely remember spending time dangling in the air, tied to a rope, as she fell in and out of consciousness. When had she been pulled up? What was happening?

  A voice whispered from the night. "I shall forgive that little mistake. You have been marathdamane for very long, and bad habits are to be expected. But you will not reach for the Source again without permission. Do you understand?"

  "Release me!" Elaida bellowed.

  The pain returned tenfold, and Elaida retched at the intensity of it. Her bile and sick-up fell over the side of the beast and dropped far to the ground below.

  "Now, now," the voice said, patient, like a woman speaking to a very young child. "You must learn. Your name is Suffa. And Suffa will be a good damane. Yes she will. A very, very good damane. "

  Elaida screamed again, and this time, she didnt stop when the pain came. She just kept screaming out into the uncaring night.

  CHAPTER 42

  Before the Stone of Tear

  TT TT*"/^ e dont know the names of the women who were in Graendals palace, / Lews Therin said. We cant add them to the list. W Rand tried to ignore the madman. That proved impossible.

  Lews Therin continued.

  How can we continue the list if we dont know the names! In war, we sought out the Maidens who had fallen, We found every one! The list is flawed! I cant continue!

  Its not your list! Rand growled. Its mine, Lews Therin. MINE!

  No! the madman sputtered. Who are you? Its mine! I made it. I cant continue now that theyre dead. Oh, Light! Balefire? Why did we use balefire! I promised that I would never do that again. . . .

  Rand squeezed his eyes shut, holding tightly to Taidaishars reins. The warhorse picked his way down the street; the hooves hit packed earth, one after another.

  What have we become? Lews Therin whispered. Were going to do it again, arent we? Kill them all. Everyone weve loved. Again, again, again. . . .

  "Again and again," Rand whispered. "It doesnt matter, as long as the world survives. They cursed me before, swore at Dragonmount and by my name, but they lived. Were here, ready to fight. Again and again. "

  "Rand?" Min asked.

  He opened his eyes. She rode her dun mare next to Taidaishar. He couldnt let her, or any of them, see him slipping. They mustnt know how close he was to collapsing.

  So many names we dont know, Lews Therin whispered. So many dead by our hand.

  And it was just the beginning.

  "I am well, Min," he said. "I was thinking. "

  "About the people?" Min asked. The wooden walks of Bandar Eban were filled with people. Rand no longer saw the colors of their clothing; he saw how worn that clothing was. He saw the rips in the magnificent fabric, the threadbare patches, the dirt and the stains. Virtually everyone in Bandar Eban was a refugee of one sort or
another. They watched him with haunted eyes.

  Each time hed conquered a kingdom before, hed left it better than when hed arrived. Rand had removed Forsaken tyrants, brought an end to warfare and sieges. Hed cast out Shaido invaders, hed delivered food, hed created stability. Each land hed destroyed had, essentially, been saved at the same time.

  Arad Doman was different. Hed brought in food—but that food had drawn even more refugees, straining his supplies. Not only had he failed to give them peace with the Seanchan, he had appropriated their only troops and sent them up to watch the Borderlands. The seas were still unsafe. The tiny Seanchan empress hadnt trusted him. She would continue her attacks, perhaps double them.

  The Domani would be trampled beneath the hooves of war, crushed between the invading Trollocs to the north and the Seanchan to the south. And Rand was leaving them.

  Somehow, the people realized that, and it was very hard for Rand to look at them. Their hungry eyes accused him: Why bring hope, then let it dry up, like a newly dug well during a drought? Why force us to accept you as our ruler, only to abandon us?

  Flinn and Naeff had ridden before him; he could see their black coats ahead as they sat their horses watching Rands procession approach the city square. The pins sparkled on their high collars. The fountain in the square still flowed among gleaming copper horses leaping from copper waves. Which of those silent Domani continued to shine the fountain, when no king ruled and half the merchant council was lost?

  Rands Aiel hadnt been able to track down enough of the council to form a majority; he suspected that Graendal had killed or captured enough of them to keep a new king from ever being chosen. If any of the merchant council members had been pretty enough, theyd have joined the ranks of her pets—which meant that Rand had killed them.

  Ah, Lews Therin said. Names I can add to the list. Yes. . . .

  Bashere rode up beside Rand, knuckling his mustaches, looking thoughtful. "Your will is done," he said.

  "Lady Chadmar?" Rand asked.

  "Returned to her mansion," Bashere said. "Weve done the same with the other four members of the merchant council the Aiel were holding near the city. "

  "They understand what they are to do?"

  "Yes," Bashere said, sighing. "But I dont think theyll do it. If you ask me, the moment were gone theyll bolt from the city like thieves fleeing a prison once the guards leave. "

  Rand gave no reaction. Hed ordered the merchant council to choose new members, then pick a king. But Bashere was probably right. Already, Rand had reports from the other cities along the coast, where hed told his Aiel to withdraw. The city leaders were vanishing, running before the presumed Seanchan assault.

  Arad Doman, as a kingdom, was finished. Like a table laden with too much weight, it would soon collapse. It is not my problem, Rand thought, not looking at the people. / did everything I could.

  That wasnt true. Though hed wanted to help the Domani, his real reasons for coming had been to deal with the Seanchan, to find out what had happened to the king, and to track down Graendal. Not to mention to secure what he could of the Borderlands.

  "What news from Ituralde?" Rand asked.

  "Nothing good, Im afraid," Bashere said grimly. "Hes had skirmishes with Trollocs, but you knew that already. The Shadowspawn always withdraw quickly, but he warns that something is gathering. His scouts catch glimpses of forces large enough to overrun him. If the Trollocs are gathering there, then theyre likely gathering elsewhere as well. Particularly the Gap. "