The Gathering Storm

by Robert Jordan

  The words, repeated in her head, helped stave off the panic at considering yet another day within this cell. What would she have done without the nightly dreams to keep her sane? Again, she thought of poor Rand, locked away. She and he shared something now. A kinship beyond a common childhood in the Two Rivers. They had both suffered Elaida’s punishments. And it hadn’t broken either of them.

  There was nothing to do but wait. Around noon, they would open the doors and drag her out to be beaten. It wouldn’t be Silviana who did the punishing. Giving the beatings was seen as a reward, compensation to the Red sisters for having to spend all day sitting in the dungeons guarding her.

  After the beating, Egwene would go back in the cell and be given a bowl of tasteless gruel. Day after day it was the same. But she would not break, particularly not while she could spend the nights in Tel’aran’rhiod. In fact, in many ways, those were her days—spent free and active—while these were her nights, in inactive darkness. She told herself that.

  The morning passed slowly. Eventually, iron keys clanked as one turned in the ancient lock. The door opened, and a pair of slender Red sisters stood outside, barely silhouettes, the light so unfamiliar to Egwene that she couldn’t make out their features. The Reds grabbed her roughly by the arms, though she never resisted. They pulled her out and threw her to the ground. She heard the strap as one slapped it against her hand in anticipation, and Egwene steeled herself for the blows. They would hear her laugh, just as they had every day before.

  “Wait,” a voice said.

  The arms holding Egwene down grew stiff. Egwene frowned, cheek pressed against the cold tile floor. That voice . . . it had been Katerine’s.

  Slowly, the sisters holding Egwene relaxed their grips, pulling her to her feet. She blinked against the blazing light of the lamps to find Katerine standing in the hallway a short distance away, her arms folded. “She is to be released,” the Red said, sounding strangely smug.

  “What?” asked one of Egwene’s captors. As her eyes adjusted, Egwene could see that it was lanky Barasine.

  “The Amyrlin has realized that she is punishing the wrong person,” Katerine said. “The failure lies not completely on the head of this . . . insect of a novice, but on the one who was to be manipulating her.”

  Egwene eyed Katerine. And then it clicked into place. “Silviana,” she said.

  “Indeed,” Katerine said. “If the novices are out of control, then should not the blame fall on the one who was to train them?”

  So Elaida had realized that she could not prove Egwene was a Darkfriend. Deflecting attention to Silviana was a clever move; if Elaida was punished for using the Power to beat Egwene, but Silviana was punished far more for letting Egwene get out of control, it would save face for the Amyrlin.

  “I think the Amyrlin made a wise choice,” Katerine said. “Egwene, you are to be . . . instructed from now on only by the Mistress of Novices.”

  “But Silviana is the one you said has failed,” Egwene said, confused.

  “Not Silviana,” Katerine said; her smugness seemed to grow even further. “The new Mistress of Novices.”

  Egwene locked gazes with the woman. “Ah,” she said. “And you believe that you will succeed where Silviana failed?”

  “You will see.” Katerine turned away and headed down the tiled hallway. “Take her to her quarters.”

  Egwene shook her head. Elaida was more competent than Egwene had assumed. She’d seen that the imprisonment wasn’t working and had found a scapegoat to punish instead. But Silviana, removed from her position as Mistress of Novices? That would be a blow to the morale of the Tower itself, for many sisters considered Silviana an exemplary Mistress of Novices.

  The Reds reluctantly began to walk Egwene toward the novices’ quarters, now in their new location on the twenty-second level. They seemed annoyed to have missed out on the opportunity to beat her.

  She ignored them. After spending so long locked up, it felt wonderful simply to be able to walk. It wasn’t freedom, not with a pair of guards, but it certainly did feel like it! Light! She wasn’t certain how many more days in that dank hole of a cell she’d have been able to stand!

  But she’d won. The realization was just beginning to dawn on her. She’d won! She’d resisted the worst punishment Elaida could contrive, and had come out victorious! The Amyrlin would be punished by the Hall, and Egwene would go free.

  Each familiar hallway seemed to shine with a congratulatory light, and each step she took seemed like the victory march of a thousand men across the battlefield. She had won! The war was not over, but this battle went to Egwene. They climbed some stairs, then entered the more populated sections of the Tower. Soon, she saw a group of novices passing; they whispered to one another as they saw Egwene, then scattered away.

  Within minutes, Egwene’s little procession of three began to pass more and more people in the hallways. Sisters of all Ajahs, looking busy—yet their steps slowed as they watched Egwene pass. Accepted in their banded dresses were far less covert; they stood at intersections, gawking as Egwene was led past. In all of their eyes there was surprise. Why was she free? They seemed tense. Had something happened that Egwene wasn’t aware of?

  “Ah, Egwene,” a voice said as they passed a hallway. “Excellent, you are already free. I would speak with you.”

  Egwene turned with shock to see Saerin, the purposeful Brown Sitter. The scar on the woman’s cheek always made her seem far more . . . daunting than most other Aes Sedai, an air enhanced by the white locks of hair, indicating her great age. Few members of the Brown could be described as intimidating, but Saerin was certainly one of that select group.

  “We are taking her to her rooms,” Barasine said.

  “Well, I will speak to her as you do,” Saerin said calmly.

  “She is not to—”

  “You deny me, Red? A Sitter?” Saerin asked.

  Barasine blushed. “The Amyrlin will not be pleased to hear of this.”

  “Then run along and tell her,” Saerin said. “While I discuss some items of import with young al’Vere.” She eyed the Reds. “Give us some room, if you please.”

  The two Reds failed to stare her down, then backed away. Egwene watched with curiosity. It appeared that the authority of the Amyrlin—indeed, that of her entire Ajah—was somewhat dimmed. Saerin turned to Egwene and gestured, and the two of them began to walk together through the hallway, the Red sisters following behind.

  “You take a risk being seen speaking to me like this,” Egwene said.

  Saerin sniffed. “Leaving one’s quarters is taking a risk, these days. I’m growing too frustrated with events to bother with niceties anymore.” She paused, then glanced at Egwene. “Besides. Being seen in your company can be rather worth that risk, these days. I wanted to determine something.”

  “What?” Egwene asked, curious.

  “Well, I actually wanted to see if they could be pushed around. Most of the members of the Red are not taking your release well. They see it as a major failing on Elaida’s part.”

  “She should have killed me,” Egwene said with a nod. “Days ago.”

  “That would have been seen as a failure.”

  “As much a failure as being forced to remove Silviana?” Egwene asked. “Of suddenly deciding that your Mistress of Novices is to blame, a week after the fact?”

  “Is that what they told you?” Saerin asked, smiling as they walked, her eyes forward. “That Elaida ‘suddenly’ came to this decision, all on her own?”

  Egwene raised an eyebrow.

  “Silviana demanded to be heard by the full Hall while it was sitting,” Saerin explained. “She stood before the lot of us, before Elaida herself, and insisted that your treatment was unlawful. Which, likely, it was. Even if you aren’t an Aes Sedai, you shouldn’t have been placed in such terrible conditions.” Saerin glanced at Egwene. “Silviana demanded your release. She seemed to respect you a great deal, I should say. She spoke with pride in her voice of how y
ou’d received your punishments, as if you were a student who had learned her lesson well. She denounced Elaida, calling for her to be removed as Amyrlin. It was . . . quite extraordinary.”

  “By the Light . . .” Egwene breathed. “What did Elaida do to her?”

  “Ordered her to take up the dress of a novice,” Saerin said. “Just about caused an uproar in the Hall itself.” Saerin paused. “Silviana refused, of course. Elaida has declared that she is to be stilled and executed. The Hall doesn’t know what to do.”

  Egwene felt a stab of panic. “Light! She mustn’t be punished! We must prevent this.”

  “Prevent it?” Saerin asked. “Child, the Red Ajah is crumbling! Its members are turning against one another, wolves attacking their own pack. If Elaida is allowed to go through with killing one of her own Ajah, whatever support she had from within the ranks will evaporate. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised, when the dust settles, to see that the Ajah has undermined itself to the point that you could simply disband it and be done with them.”

  “I don’t want to disband them,” Egwene said. “Saerin, that’s one of the problems with Elaida’s way of thinking in the first place! The White Tower needs all of the Ajahs, even the Red, to face what is coming. We certainly can’t afford to lose a woman like Silviana just to make a point. Rally what support you can. We have to move quickly to stop this travesty.”

  Saerin blinked. “Do you really think you’re in control here, child?”

  Egwene met her eyes. “Do you want to be?”

  “Light, no!”

  “Well, then stop standing in my way and get to work! Elaida must be removed, but we can’t let the entire Tower collapse around us while it happens. Go to the Hall and see what you can do to stop this!”

  Saerin actually nodded in respect before withdrawing down a side corridor. Egwene glanced back at her two Red attendants. “Did you hear much of that?”

  They glanced at each other. Of course they’d been listening. “You’ll want to go determine for yourselves what has happened,” Egwene said. “Why haven’t you?”

  The two glanced at her with annoyance. “The shield,” Barasine said. “We’ve been instructed to always have at least two to maintain it.”

  “Oh, for the. . . .” Egwene took a deep breath. “If I vow not to embrace the Power until I am properly back in the custody of another Red sister, will that be enough for you?”

  The two regarded her with suspicion.

  “I suspected as much,” Egwene said. She turned to a group of novices who were standing in a side corridor, pretending to scrub the tiles on the side wall while they gawked at Egwene.

  “You,” Egwene said, pointing to one of them. “Marsial, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Mother,” the girl squeaked.

  “Go and fetch us some forkroot tea. Katerine should have some at the study of the Mistress of Novices. It’s not far. Tell her that Barasine requested it for use on me; bring it to my quarters.”

  The novice scrambled off to do as asked.

  “I’ll dose myself with that, and then at least one of you can go,” Egwene said. “Your Ajah is collapsing. They’re going to need all of the clear minds they can get; maybe you can convince your sisters that it is unwise to let Elaida execute Silviana.”

  The two Reds glanced at each other uncertainly. Then the spindly one whose name Egwene didn’t know cursed softly and hurried away with a flurry of rustling skirts. Barasine called after her, but the woman didn’t return.

  Barasine glanced at Egwene, muttered something under her breath, but remained in place. “We’re waiting for that forkroot,” she said, staring Egwene in the eyes. “Keep moving on to your quarters.”

  “Fine,” Egwene said. “But each minute you delay could cost you deeply.”

  They climbed the stairs to the new novices’ quarters, which were scrunched up alongside the remainder of the Brown section of the Tower. They stopped by Egwene’s door to wait for the forkroot. As they stood there, novices began to crowd around. In the distant corridors, sisters and their Warders ran through hallways with a sense of urgency. Hopefully, the Hall would be able to do something to contain Elaida. If she really went so far as to execute sisters for simply disagreeing with her. . . .

  The wide-eyed novice finally returned with a cup and a small packet of herbs. Barasine inspected the packet and apparently determined that it was satisfactory, for she dumped it into the cup and proffered it to Egwene expectantly. With a sigh, Egwene took it and downed the entire cup of warm water. It was enough of a dose that she wouldn’t be able to channel a trickle, but hopefully wouldn’t be strong enough to render her unconscious.

  Barasine turned and hurried away, leaving Egwene alone in the hallway. Not just alone, but alone and able to do exactly as she wished. She didn’t get many of these opportunities.

  Well, she’d have to see what she could do with that. But first, she’d need to change out of this filthy, bloodstained dress, and wash herself, too. She pushed open the door to her quarters.

  And found someone sitting inside.

  “Hello, Egwene,” Verin said, taking a sip from a steaming cup of tea. “My! I was beginning to wonder if I’d have to break into that cell of yours in order to speak with you.”

  Egwene shook off her shock. Verin? When had the woman returned to the White Tower? How long had it been since Egwene had seen her? “There isn’t time right now, Verin,” she said, quickly opening the small locker that contained her extra dress. “I have work to be about.”

  “Hmm, yes,” Verin said, taking a calm sip of her tea. “I suspect that you do. By the way, that dress you are wearing is green.”

  Egwene frowned at the nonsense sentence, glancing down at her dress. Of course it wasn’t green. What was Verin saying? Had the woman become—

  She froze, glancing at Verin.

  That had been a lie. Verin could speak lies.

  “Yes, I thought that might get your attention,” Verin said, smiling. “You should sit down. We have much to discuss and little time in which to do it.”

  CHAPTER 39

  A Visit from Verin Sedai

  “You never held the Oath Rod,” Egwene accused her, still standing by the closet. Verin remained on the side of the bed, sipping her tea. The stout woman wore a simple brown dress with a matronly cut through the bosom and a thick leather belt at the waist. The skirts were divided, and judging from the dirty boots peeking out from under the hem, she had only just arrived back in the White Tower.

  “Don’t be silly.” Verin brushed back a lock of hair that had escaped from her bun; the brown was marked with a pronounced streak of gray. “Child, I held the Oath Rod and swore upon it before your grandmother was born.”

  “Then you’ve had the Oaths removed,” Egwene said. It was possible with the Oath Rod—after all, Yukiri, Saerin and the others had removed their oaths and replaced them.

  “Well, yes,” Verin said in a motherly way.

  “I don’t trust you,” Egwene found herself blurting. “I don’t think I ever have.”

  “Very wise,” Verin said, sipping her tea. It was not a scent Egwene recognized. “I am, after all, of the Black Ajah.”

  Egwene felt a sudden chill, like an ice cold spike pounded directly through her back and down into her chest. Black Ajah. Verin was Black. Light!

  Egwene immediately reached for the One Power. But of course the forkroot made that effort futile. And Egwene herself had been the one to suggest it be given to her! Light, had she taken leave of her senses? She’d been so confident and certain following her victory that she hadn’t anticipated what might happen if she ran into a Black sister. But who could anticipate running into a Black sister? Finding one sitting calmly on your bed, drinking tea and looking at you with those eyes that always had seemed to know too much. What better way to hide than as an unassuming Brown, constantly dismissed by the other sisters because of your distracted, scholarly ways?

  “My, but this is good tea,” Verin said. “When you next
see Laras, please thank her on my behalf for providing it. She promised that she had some that hadn’t spoiled, but I didn’t trust her. Can’t trust much these days, can you?”

  “What, is Laras a Darkfriend?” Egwene asked.

  “Heavens, no,” Verin said. “She’s many things, but not a Darkfriend. You’d sooner find a Whitecloak marrying an Aes Sedai than find Laras swearing to the Great Lord. Extraordinary woman. And quite good at judging the flavor of teas.”

  “What are you going to do with me?” Egwene said, forcing herself to speak calmly. If Verin had wanted to kill her, the deed would have been done by now. Obviously Verin wanted to use Egwene, and use would give Egwene opportunity. Opportunity for escape, opportunity to turn the situation around. Light, this was bad timing!

  “Well,” Verin said, “first I will ask you to sit. I would offer you some tea, but I sincerely doubt you want any of what I’m having.”

  Think, Egwene! she told herself. Calling for help would be futile; only novices were likely to hear, as her Red keepers had both run off. Of all the times to be alone! She’d never have thought that she’d wish for jailers nearby.

  Anyway, if she yelled, Verin would undoubtedly bind and gag her with weaves of Air. And if any novices did hear, they’d run to see what was the problem—and that would only pull them into Verin’s clutches as well. So Egwene pulled over the room’s single wooden stool and sat upon it, backside protesting the uncushioned wood.

  The small room was still and quiet, cold and sterile, as it had been unoccupied for four days. Egwene sought furiously for an avenue of escape.

  “I compliment you on what you’ve done here, Egwene,” Verin said. “I’ve followed some little of the foolishness going on between the Aes Sedai factions, though I decided not to get involved personally. It was more important to continue my research and keep an eye on young al’Thor. He’s a fiery one, I must say. I worry about the lad. I’m not certain he understands how the Great Lord works. Not all evil is as . . . obvious as the Chosen. The Forsaken, as you’d call them.”