Towers of Midnight

by Robert Jordan; Brandon Sanderson

  Elayne burst into laughter.

  Birgitte froze. "Elayne?"

  "I'm all right," Elayne said, wiping the tears from her eyes and forcing herself to take a deep breath. "Oh, Light. I needed that. Here, read it."

  Birgitte snatched the letter, and as she read, her face lightened. She chuckled. "You have a nice backside? He should be talking. Mat's got as fine a rump as comes on a man."

  "Birgitte!" Elayne said.

  "Well it's true," the Warder said, handing back the letter. "I find his face far too pretty, but that doesn't mean I can't judge a good backside when I see one. Light, it will be good to have him back! Finally, someone I can go drinking with who doesn't look at me as their bloody military superior."

  "Contain yourself, Birgitte," Elayne said, folding the letter up. Norry looked scandalized by the exchange. Dyelin said nothing. It took a lot to faze that woman, and she'd heard worse from Birgitte.

  "You did well, Master Norry," Elayne said. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention."

  "You do indeed know these mercenaries, then?" he asked, a hint of surprise sounding in his voice.

  "They're not mercenaries. Actually, I'm not certain what they are. Friends. And allies, I should hope." Why had Mat brought the Band of the Red Hand to Andor? Were they loyal to Rand? Could she make use of them? Mat was a scoundrel, but he had a strangely good eye for tactics and warfare. A soldier under his command would be worth ten of the sell-sword riffraff she'd been forced to hire recently.

  "My pardon, Your Majesty, for my mistake," Norry said. "I should have brought this to you sooner. My informants told me that this group was

  ntly in the employ of the Crown of Murandy, so I discounted their 1 ader's insistence that he wasn't a mercenary."

  "You did well, Master Norry," Elayne said, still feeling amused and

  nsulted. It was odd how often one moved between those two emotions

  when Matrim Cauthon was involved. "Light knows I've been busy enough.

  But please, if someone claims to know me personally, at least bring it to

  Birgitte's attention."

  "Yes, Your Majesty."

  "Arrange a meeting with Master Cauthon," she said, idly wishing she had time to write him back a letter as insulting as the one he'd written her. "Tell him he must bring Thorn with him. To . . . keep him in line."

  "As you wish, Your Majesty," Norry said with a characteristically stiff bow. "If I may withdraw . . ."

  She nodded in thanks and he left, pulling the door closed. Elayne held Mat's letter idly between two fingers. Could she use Mat, somehow, to help her with the troubles Ellorien was making? As she'd used the Borderland-ers? Or was that too obvious?

  "Why did he mention bellfounders, do you think?" Birgitte asked.

  "It could be something as simple as needing a new bell to ring the hour for his camp."

  "But you don't think it's simple."

  "Mat's involved," Elayne said. "He has a way of complicating things, and the way he wrote that line makes it smell like one of his schemes."

  "True. And if he merely wanted a bell, he could win himself enough to buy it after an hour dicing."

  "Come now," Elayne said. "He's not that lucky."

  Birgitte snorted into her tea. "You need to pay better attention, Elayne. That man could dice with the Dark One and win."

  Elayne shook her head. Soldiers, Birgitte included, could be such a superstitious lot. "Make certain to have a few extra Guardswomen on duty when Mat comes. He can be exuberant, and I wouldn't want him to make a scene."

  Who is this man?" Dyelin asked, sounding confused. One of the other two ta'veren who grew up with Rand al'Thor," Birgitte said, gulping down her tea. She'd given up drinking while Elayne was pregnant. At least someone else had to suffer too.

  Mat is ... a particularly dynamic individual," Elayne said. "He can be very useful when properly harnessed. When he is not—which is most of the time—he can be an outright disaster. But whatever else can be said about the man, he and his Band know how to fight."

  "You're going to use them, aren't you?" Birgitte said, eyeing her appre-ciatively.

  "Of course," Elayne said. "And, from what I remember Mat saying, he has a lot of Cairhienin in the Band. They are native sons. If I arrive with that section of the Band as part of my army, perhaps the transition will be easier."

  "So you really do intend to go through with this?" Dyelin asked. "Taking the Sun Throne? Now?"

  "The world needs unity," Elayne said, standing. "With Cairhien, I begin knitting us all together. Rand already controls Illian and Tear, and has bonds to the Aiel. We're all connected."

  She glanced to the west, where she could feel that knot of emotions that was Rand. The only thing she ever sensed from him these days was a cold anger, buried deeply. Was he in Arad Doman?

  Elayne loved him. But she didn't intend to see Andor become merely another part of the Dragon's empire. Besides, if Rand were to die at Shayol Ghul, who would rule that empire? It could break up, but she worried that someone—Darlin, perhaps—would be strong enough to hold it together. If so, Andor would stand alone between an aggressive Seanchan empire to the southwest, Rand's successor to the northwest and the southeast and the Borderlanders united together in the north and northeast.

  She could not let that happen. The woman in her cringed to think of planning for Rand's death, but the Queen could not be so squeamish. The world was changing.

  "I realize it will be difficult to administer two nations," Elayne said. "But I must hold Cairhien. For the good of both thrones."

  She turned and met Dyelin's eyes, and the older woman nodded slowly. "It seems you are committed."

  "I am," Elayne said. "But I feel I'm going to need reliable use of Traveling if I'm going to manage it. Let's set up a meeting for me with Sumeko and Alise. We need to discuss the future of the Kin."

  CHAPTER

  12

  An Empty Ink Bottle

  Min sat on a window ledge in the Stone of Tear, enjoying the warmth. The afternoon breeze was refreshing, laden though it was with humidity and the scents of the city below. The Tairens had been calling the weather "chilly," which made Min smile. How would these folk respond to a good Andoran winter, with snow piled up at the sides of buildings and icicles hanging from the eaves?

  All that could be said of the weather lately was that it was less sweltering than usual. The warmth that Min was enjoying, however, had nothing to do with the heat in the air.

  Sunlight shone upon the city. In the Stone's courtyards, Defenders in their striped sleeves and breeches kept stopping and looking up toward the open sky. The clouds still lurked on the horizon, but they were broken around the city in an unnatural ring. Perfectly circular.

  The warmth that Min felt was not caused by the sunlight. How can you just sit there?" Nynaeve demanded. Min turned her head. The window was wide open, and the walls of the Stone were thick. Min sat on the windowsill with her knees bent, her bare oes touching the wall on the other side. Her boots and stockings lay on the floor beside a stack of books.

  Nynaeve paced the room. The Stone of Tear had withstood sieges and storms, wars and desolation, but Min wondered if it had ever survived any. thing quite like Nynaeve al'Meara in a pique. The dark-haired Aes Sedai had spent the last three days stalking through the corridors like a crackling thunderhead, intimidating Defenders, terrifying servants.

  "Three days," Nynaeve said. "Three days he's been gone! The Last Battle looms, and the Dragon Reborn is missing."

  "He's not missing," Min said softly. "Rand knows where he is."

  "You do as well," Nynaeve said, her voice curt.

  "I'm not leading you to him, Nynaeve."

  "And why not? Surely you can't—"

  "He needs to be alone."

  Nynaeve cut off. She walked over to the corner table and poured herself a cup of chilled Tremalking black. Chilled tea. That seemed so odd. Tea was meant to be warming during cold days.

  Min turned her
eyes northward again, into the distant, cloud-smothered haze. As far as she could determine through the bond, she was looking directly at him. Was he in Andor, perhaps? Or in the Borderlands? She'd been tempted to use the bond to seek him out at first, when he'd felt that awful anguish. Pain deeper than the wounds in his side. Agony, anger and despair. In those moments, Rand had seemed more dangerous than he ever had before. Not even that night—when he'd knelt above her, strangling her with one hand—had he been as frightening.

  And then . . .

  She smiled. And then had come the warmth. It radiated from the bond like the comfort of a winter hearth. Something wonderful was happening, something she'd been awaiting without knowing it.

  "It will be all right, Nynaeve," she said.

  "How can you say that?" The woman took a sip of her tea. "He didn't destroy Ebou Dar, but that doesn't mean he's not dangerous. You heard what he nearly did to Tarn. His own father, Min."

  "A man should not be condemned for what he 'nearly' did, Nynaeve. He stopped himself."

  "He didn't stop himself at Natrin's Barrow."

  "That was necessary."

  "You didn't believe that at the time."

  Min took a deep breath. Nynaeve had been goading her into arguments lately; she certainly had good reason to be tense. Her husband was riding toward his death. The Dragon Reborn—a man she saw as her charge, still—was wandering alone, and there was nothing Nynaeve could do. And if there was one thing Nynaeve hated, it was being powerless.

  "Nynaeve," Min said. "If this lasts much longer, I'll lead you to him. I

  promise."

  The Aes Sedai narrowed her eyes. " 'Much longer?"

  "A few days."

  "In a few days he could level Cairhien."

  "Do you really think he would do that, Nynaeve?" Min asked softly.

  "Truly?"

  "Do I?" Nynaeve gripped her cup of tea, staring down at its contents.

  "Once I would have laughed at the idea. I knew Rand al'Thor, and the boy

  still inside him. The man he's become frightens me. I always told him he

  needed to grow up. And then . . . and then he did." She shivered visibly.

  Min started to reply, but motion drew her attention. Two Maidens— Surial and Lerian—guarded the open doorway to the hallway; they'd turned to watch someone approach. There were always Maidens around Min, these days.

  Sarene Nemdahl entered the small room a moment later. Min's quarters in the Stone were not expansive—she rarely used them, instead staying with Rand. Her sitting room had a thick blue-and-white rug and a small cherry desk, but nothing else.

  Sarene wore her dark hair in its customary beaded braids framing her near-perfect face. "Cadsuane Sedai," Sarene said, "she has need of you."

  "Is that so?" Nynaeve said. "Well, perhaps Cadsuane Sedai can—"

  "Alanna is gone," Sarene continued, unruffled. "Vanished right from her chambers. The Defenders, they didn't see her go, and there was no sign of a gateway."

  "Oh. Well, let's go then." Nynaeve bustled out of the chamber.

  And I'm telling you that I felt nothing," Corele said. She smiled, tapping the side of her nose. "I don't know how she got out. Unless you think she somehow invented flying—which I daresay wouldn't be outside reason, considering some of what has occurred lately."

  Fool woman, Cadsuane thought, leveling a flat stare at Corele. The woman's flippancy was preferable to the self-importance of some other Aes aedai, but today Cadsuane hadn't the patience for it.

  The Yellow shrugged, still smiling, but said nothing further. Cadsuane

  Placed hands on hips, surveying the small chamber. Room for a trunk to

  hold clothing, a cot for sleeping and a desk. Cadsuane would have expected

  Aes Sedai to demand more, even in Tear. Of course, Alanna didn't often

  rveal her intimate connection to the Dragon. Most didn't know of it.

  Two other Aes Sedai—Rafela Cindal and Bera Harkin—stood at the side of the room. Bera said she'd felt Alanna channeling, but nothing demanding Certainly not enough to create a gateway.

  Burn that woman! Cadsuane had thought Alanna well in hand, despite recent stubbornness. She'd obviously slipped out intentionally. The clothing from the trunk was gone and the writing desk was mostly bare. Only an empty ink bottle remained.

  "She said nothing to you?" Cadsuane said.

  "No, Cadsuane Sedai," Bera replied. "We haven't spoken more than passing words in weeks. I. . . well, I did often hear weeping in her room."

  "What is all the fuss about?" a new voice said. Cadsuane glanced at the doorway as Nynaeve arrived and met Cadsuane's stare. "She's only one person, and so far as I understand, she was free to leave when she wished."

  "Phaw," Cadsuane said. "The girl isn't 'only one person.' She's a tool. An important one." She reached over to the desk, holding up a sheet of paper that they'd found in the room. It had been folded with a blood-red seal of wax on one side. "Do you recognize this?"

  Nynaeve frowned. "No. Should I?"

  Lying or truthful? Cadsuane hated not being able to trust the words of someone who called herself an Aes Sedai. But Nynaeve al'Meara had never held the Oath Rod.

  Those eyes looked genuinely confused. Nynaeve should be trustworthy; she prided herself on her honesty. Unless that was a front. Unless she was Black.

  Careful, she thought. You'll end up as distrustful as the boy is. Nynaeve hadn't given Alanna the note, which eliminated her last good theory on its origin.

  "So, what is it, Cadsuane Sedai?" Nynaeve demanded. At least she used the honorific; Cadsuane nearly chided the girl for her tone. But, truth be told, she felt as frustrated as Nynaeve did. There were times when such emotions were justified. Facing the end of the world with the Dragon Reborn completely out of control was one of them.

  "I'm not sure," Cadsuane said. "The letter was opened in haste—the paper was torn. It was dropped on the floor, and the note inside taken, along with clothing and emergency items."

  "But why does it matter?" Nynaeve asked. Behind her, Min slipped into the room, two Maidens taking up positions by the door. Had Min yet figured out the real reason the Aiel trailed her?

  "Because, Nynaeve," Min said. "She is a pathway to him."

  Nynaeve sniffed. "She's been no more helpful than you, Min."

  As persuasive as you can be, Nynaeve," Cadsuane said dryly, "the Shadow has means to make people more forthcoming."

  Nynaeve blushed furiously, then began muttering under her breath. Al-

  anna could point the way to the Dragon Reborn. If agents of the Dark One had taken her, there would be no hiding Rand from them. Their traps had been deadly enough when they'd needed to coax and lure him into them.

  "We've been fools," Nynaeve said. "There should have been a hundred Maidens guarding her."

  "The Forsaken have known where to find him before," Cadsuane said, though inwardly she agreed. She should have seen Alanna better watched. "And he has survived. This is simply one more thing to be aware of." She sighed. "Can someone bring us some tea?"

  Bera was actually the one who went to fetch it, though Cadsuane hadn't taken any care to cultivate influence with the woman. Well, a reputation was worth something, it appeared.

  Bera returned shortly; Cadsuane had stepped out into the hall to think. She accepted the cup and braced herself for the tea's bitter taste— she'd asked for it partially because she needed a moment to think, and an empty-handed woman often looked nervous.

  She raised the cup to her lips. What next? Ask the Defenders at the gate of the Stone? Last night, Alanna—after being prodded—had confirmed that al'Thor was still in the same place. Up north, Andor perhaps. For three days. What was the fool boy—

  Cadsuane froze. The tea tasted good.

  It was wonderful, as a matter of fact. Perfectly sweetened with honey. Faint bitterness and a relaxing flavor. It had been weeks, perhaps months, since Cadsuane had tasted tea that wasn't spoiled.

  Min gasped, turn
ing sharply toward the northern quarter of the city. The two Maidens in the doorway were gone in a heartbeat, dashing down the hallway. Cadsuane's suspicions were confirmed; their careful watch of Min had been less about protecting her and more about watching for signs of...

  "He's here," Min said softly.

  CHAPTER

  13

  For What Has Been Wrought

  Min burst from the Dragonwall Gate on the eastern side of the Stone and dashed across the courtyard. What seemed like an entire clan's worth of Aiel flooded out behind her, breaking around Min like deer breaking around an oak. They weaved between startled Defenders and grooms, moving with grace and speed toward the wall.

  It was galling how easily they outpaced her—years ago, she'd prided herself on being able to beat any boy she knew in an honest footrace. Now . . . well, too many months spent picking through books, perhaps.

  She still outpaced the Aes Sedai, who were bridled by their need to maintain proper decorum. Min had long ago tossed aside all sense of decorum for her towering sheepherder. And so she ran, thankful for her breeches and boots, making for the gate.

  And there he was. She pulled up sharply, looking through an open column of Aiel in cadin'sor toward the man himself, standing and speaking with two Defenders who were part of the wall guard. He glanced at her as she grew close; he could feel her coming, as she felt him.

  Rand had found an old, long brown cloak somewhere. It had sleeves like a coat, though it fell loose from the shoulders. Underneath it, he had on a shirt and fine black trousers.

  Now that he was close, the warmth through the bond seemed overwhelming. Couldn't the others see it? It made her want to raise her arm and shade her eyes, though there was nothing to actually see. It was just the bond. Except . . . the air did seem to distort around him. Was that a trick of the sunlight? New viewings spun around his head. She normally ignored those, but she couldn't do so now. An open cavern, gaping like a mouth. Bloodstained rocks. Two dead men on the ground, surrounded by ranks and ranks of Trollocs, a pipe with smoke curling from it.

  Rand met her gaze, and—despite the bond—she was amazed at what she saw in him. Those gray gemstone eyes of his were deeper. There were faint wrinkles around them. Had those been there before? Surely he was too young for that.