The Wheel of Time

by Robert Jordan

  “Else?” Corele asked, paling.

  “Yes,” Rand said offhandedly. “I’ve already been to the White Tower to see her.”

  “And they let you go?” Corele asked.

  “I didn’t allow them other options. Darlin, kindly marshal our forces here. I want them gathered by the evening. Flinn, we’ll need gateways. Large ones. A circle might be needed.”

  “Tarwin’s Gap?” Nynaeve said, eager.

  Rand glanced at her and hesitated. Min could feel his pain—sharp, spiking, real—as he spoke. “Not yet, Nynaeve. I’ve poured hot oil into the White Tower, and it will be boiling soon. Time. We don’t have time! I will get help to Lan, I vow it to you, but right now I must prepare to face Egwene.”

  “Face her?” Nynaeve said, stepping forward. “Rand, what have you done?”

  “What needed to be done. Where is Bashere?”

  “He was out of the city with his men, my Lord Dragon,” Flinn said, “running their horses. Should be back soon.”

  “Good. He’s going with me to Arad Doman. You too, Nynaeve. Min.” He looked at her, and those unfathomable eyes seemed to draw her in. “I need you, Min.”

  “You have me. Stupid looby.”

  “Callandor,” he said. “It plays a part in this. You have to find out how. I cannot seal the Bore the way I tried last time. I’m missing something, something vital. Find it for me.”

  “I will, Rand.” A cold shiver ran through her. “I promise.”

  “I trust you.” He looked up as a figure in a deep hooded cloak walked out of one of the Stone’s many guard posts.

  “Cadsuane Melaidhrin,” Rand said, “I pardon you for past mistakes and I revoke your exile. Not that it was ever anything more than a minor inconvenience to you.”

  She sniffed, lowering the hood. “If you believe that wearing a cloak in this heat is a ‘minor’ inconvenience, boy, then you need a lesson in contrast. I trust you see the error in your deed. It strikes me as unsuitable that I should need ‘forgiveness’ or a ‘pardon’ in the first place.”

  “Well, then,” Rand said. “Please accept my pardon alongside my apology. You may say I have been under unusual stress as of late.”

  “Of all people,” Cadsuane said sternly, “you cannot afford to let the pressure of life drive you.”

  “On the contrary. I am who I have become because of that pressure, Cadsuane. Metal cannot be shaped without the blows of the hammer. But that is beside the point. You tried to manipulate me, and you failed horribly. But in that failure, you have shown me something.”

  “Which is?”

  “I thought I was being forged into a sword,” Rand said, eyes growing distant. “But I was wrong. I’m not a weapon. I never have been.”

  “Then what are you?” Min asked, genuinely curious.

  He merely smiled. “Cadsuane Sedai, I have a task for you, if you will accept it.”

  “I expect that will depend on the task,” she said, folding her arms.

  “I need you to locate someone. Someone who is missing, someone I now suspect may be in the hands of well-meaning allies. You see, I’ve been informed that the White Tower is holding Mattin Stepaneos.”

  Cadsuane frowned. “And you want him?”

  “Not at all. I haven’t decided what to do about him yet, so he can stay Egwene’s problem for the time. No, the person I want is probably somewhere in the Caralain Grass. I’ll explain more when we are not in the open.”

  The High Lords and Ladies were gathering. Rand looked toward them, though once again he scanned the courtyard, as if looking for something. Something that made him feel anxious.

  He turned back to the High Lords and Ladies. Min watched them skeptically. Aside from Darlin, she’d never been impressed with them. Rand rested his hand on her shoulder. The gathered nobles looked disheveled, apparently summoned from naps or meals, although they wore an assortment of fine silks and ruffles. They looked oddly out of place in the Stone’s courtyard, where everyone else had a purpose.

  I shouldn’t be so harsh on them, Min thought, folding her arms. But then, she had watched their plotting and pandering frustrate Rand. Besides, she’d never been fond of those who thought themselves more important than everyone else.

  “Form a line,” Rand said, walking up to them.

  The High Lords and Ladies looked at him, confused.

  “A line,” Rand said, voice loud and firm. “Now.”

  They did so, arranging themselves with haste. Rand began to walk down the row, starting with Darlin, looking each man or woman in the eye. Rand’s emotions were…curious. Perhaps a touch angry. What was he doing?

  The courtyard grew still. Rand continued down the line, looking at each of the nobles in turn, not speaking. Min glanced to the side. Near the end of the line, Weiramon kept glancing at Rand, then looking away. The tall man had thinning gray hair, his beard oiled to a point.

  Rand eventually reached him. “Meet my eyes, Weiramon,” Rand said softly.

  “My Lord Dragon, surely I am not worthy to—”

  “Do it.”

  Weiramon did so with an odd difficulty. He looked as if he was gritting his teeth, his eyes watering.

  “So it is you,” Rand said. Min could feel his disappointment. Rand looked to the side, to where Anaiyella stood last in line. The pretty woman had pulled away from Rand, her head turned. “Both of you.”

  “My Lord—” Weiramon began.

  “I want you to deliver a message for me,” Rand said. “To the others of your…association. Tell them that they cannot hide among my allies any longer.”

  Weiramon tried to bluster, but Rand took a step closer. Weiramon’s eyes opened wide, and Anaiyella cried out, shading her face.

  “Tell them,” Rand continued, voice soft but demanding, “that I am no longer blind.”

  “Why…” Anaiyella said. “Why are you letting us go?”

  “Because today is a day of reunion,” Rand said. “Not a day of death. Go.”

  The two stumbled away, looking drained. The others in the courtyard watched with surprise and confusion. The Aiel, however, began to beat their spears against their shields. Anaiyella and Weiramon seemed to keep to the shadows of the courtyard as they ducked into the Stone.

  “Leeh,” Rand said. “Take two others. Watch them.”

  Three Maidens split from those watching over Rand, darting after the two former nobles. Min stepped up to Rand, taking his arm. “Rand? What was that? What did you see in them?”

  “The time for hiding is past, Min. The Shadow made its play for me and lost. It is war, not subterfuge, that turns the day now.”

  “So they’re Darkfriends?” Min asked, frowning.

  Rand turned to her, smiling. “They are no longer a threat. I—” He cut off suddenly, looking to the side. Min turned, and grew chill.

  Tam al’Thor stood nearby. He had just walked out of a nearby entrance into the Stone, pausing on a low set of steps leading down to the courtyard. Rand’s emotions grew apprehensive again, and Min realized what he’d been searching for earlier.

  Tam looked at his son, falling still. His hair was gray and his face lined, yet he was solid in a way that few people were.

  Rand lifted his hand, and the crowd—Aes Sedai included—parted. Rand passed through them, Min following behind, crossing to the steps up the Stone. Rand climbed a few of those steps, hesitant. The courtyard fell silent; even the gulls stopped calling.

  Rand stopped on the steps, and Min could feel his reluctance, his shame, his terror. It seemed so strange. Rand—who had faced Forsaken without a tremor—was afraid of his father.

  Rand took the last few steps in two sudden strides and grabbed Tam in an embrace. He stood one step down, which brought them near an equal height. In fact, in that posture, Tam almost seemed a giant, and Rand but a child who was clinging to him.

  There, holding to his father, the Dragon Reborn began to weep.

  The gathered Aes Sedai, Tairens and Aiel watched solemnly. None shuffled
or turned away. Rand squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry, Father,” he whispered. Min could barely hear. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s all right, son. It’s all right.”

  “I’ve done so much that is terrible.”

  “Nobody walks a difficult path without stumbling now and again. It didn’t break you when you fell. That’s the important part.”

  Rand nodded. They held each other for a time. Eventually, Rand pulled back, then gestured to Min, standing at the base of the steps.

  “Come, Father,” Rand said. “There is someone I want to introduce to you.”

  Tam chuckled. “It’s been three days, Rand. I’ve already met her.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t introduce you. I need to.” He waved to Min, and she raised an eyebrow, folding her arms. He looked at her pleadingly, so she sighed and climbed up the steps.

  “Father,” Rand said, resting his hand on Min’s back. “This is Min Farshaw. And she’s very special to me.”

  Chapter 14

  A Vow

  Egwene walked up the side of a gentle slope, the grass green at her feet, the air cool and pleasant. Lazy butterflies floated from blossom to blossom, like curious children peeking into cupboards. Egwene made her shoes vanish so she could feel the blades beneath her feet.

  She took a deep breath, smiling, then looked up at the boiling black clouds. Angry, violent, silent despite flashes of amethyst lightning. Terrible storm above, quiet, placid meadow beneath. A dichotomy of the World of Dreams.

  Oddly, Tel’aran’rhiod felt more unnatural to her now than it had during her first few visits using Verin’s ter’angreal. She’d treated this place like a playground, changing her clothes on a whim, assuming that she was safe. She hadn’t understood. Tel’aran’rhiod was about as safe as a bear trap painted a pretty color. If the Wise Ones hadn’t straightened her out, she might not have lived to become Amyrlin.

  Yes, I think this is it. The rolling green hills, the stands of trees. It was the first place she’d come, well over a year ago. There was something meaningful about standing here, having come so far. And yet it seemed she would have to cover an equal distance before this was done, and in far shorter a time.

  When she’d been captive in the Tower, she had reminded herself—repeatedly—that she could focus on only one problem at a time. The reunification of the White Tower had to come first. Now, however, both problems and possible solutions seemed uncountable. They overwhelmed her, drowning her in all of the things she should be doing.

  Fortunately, during the last few days, several unexpected stores of grain had been discovered in the city. In one case a forgotten warehouse, owned by a man who had died over the winter. The others were smaller, a few sacks here and there. Remarkably, none of them had borne any kind of rot.

  She had two meetings this evening, dealing with other problems. Her biggest difficulty was going to be the perceptions of the people she met with. Neither group would see her as what she had become.

  She closed her eyes, willing herself away. When she opened her eyes, she was standing in a large room, deeply shadowed in the corners, its columns rising like thick towers. The Heart of the Stone of Tear.

  Two Wise Ones sat on the floor at the center of the room, amid a forest of columns. Above their light brown skirts and white blouses, their faces were distinctly different. Bair’s was wrinkled with age, like leather left to cure in the sun. For all her occasional sternness, smile lines wove from her eyes and mouth.

  Amys’ face was silky smooth, an effect of being able to channel. Her face was not ageless, but she could have been Aes Sedai for the emotion she showed.

  The two had their shawls at their waists, their blouses unlaced. Egwene sat before them but left herself wearing wetlander clothing. Amys raised an eyebrow; was she thinking that Egwene should have changed? Or did she appreciate that Egwene did not imitate something she was not? It was difficult to tell.

  “The battle within the White Tower is over,” Egwene said.

  “The woman Elaida a’Roihan?” Amys asked.

  “Taken by the Seanchan,” Egwene said. “I have been accepted as Amyrlin by those who followed her. My position is far from secure—at times, I feel balanced atop a stone that sits balanced atop another stone. But the White Tower is again whole.”

  Amys clicked her tongue softly. She raised her hand and a striped stole—an Amyrlin’s stole—appeared in it. “I suppose you should be wearing this, then.”

  Egwene let out a soft, slow breath. It was remarkable to her, sometimes, how much stock she put in the opinions of these women. She took the stole, putting it around her shoulders.

  “Sorilea will dislike this news,” Bair said, shaking her head. “She still had a hope that you would leave those fools in the White Tower and return to us.”

  “Please take care,” Egwene said, summoning herself a cup of tea. “I am not only one of those fools, my friend, but I am their leader. Queen of the fools, you might say.”

  Bair hesitated. “I have toh.”

  “Not for speaking the truth,” Egwene assured her. “Many of them are fools, but are we not all fools at some point? You did not abandon me to my failures when you found me walking Tel’aran’rhiod. In like manner, I cannot abandon those of the White Tower.”

  Amys’ eyes narrowed. “You have grown much since we last met, Egwene al’Vere.”

  That sent a thrill through Egwene. “I had much need to grow. My life has been difficult of late.”

  “When confronted by a collapsed roof,” Bair said, “some will begin to haul away the refuse, becoming stronger for the process. Others will go to visit their brother’s hold and drink his water.”

  “Have you seen Rand recently?” Egwene asked.

  “The Car’a’carn has embraced death,” Amys said. “He has given up trying to be as strong as the stones, and has instead achieved the strength of the wind.”

  Bair nodded. “Almost, we will have to stop calling him a child.” She smiled. “Almost.”

  Egwene gave no hint of her shock. She’d expected them to be displeased with Rand. “I wish you to know the respect I have for you. You have much honor for taking me in as you did. I think that the only reason I see farther than my sisters is because you taught me to walk with my back straight and head high.”

  “It was a simple thing,” Amys said, obviously pleased. “One that any woman would have done.”

  “There are few pleasures more satisfying than taking a cord someone else has knotted,” Bair said, “then teasing it straight again. However, if the cord is not of good material, then no untangling will save it. You gave us fine material, Egwene al’Vere.”

  “I wish that there were a way,” Egwene said, “to train more sisters in the ways of the Wise Ones.”

  “You could send them to us,” Amys said. “Particularly if they need punishing. We wouldn’t coddle them like the White Tower.”

  Egwene bristled. The beatings she’d taken had been “coddling”? That was a fight she didn’t want to join, however. The Aiel would always assume wetlander ways to be soft, and there was no changing that assumption.

  “I doubt the sisters would agree to that,” Egwene said carefully. “But what might work would be to send young women—those still training—to study with you. That was part of why my training was so effective; I wasn’t yet set in the ways of the Aes Sedai.”

  “Would they agree to this?” Bair asked.

  “They might,” Egwene said. “If we sent Accepted. Novices would be considered too inexperienced, sisters too dignified. But Accepted…perhaps. There would need to be a good reason that seems to benefit the White Tower.”

  “You should tell them to go,” Bair said, “and expect them to obey. Have you not the most honor among them? Should they not listen to your counsel when it is wise?”

  “Does the clan always do as a chief demands?” Egwene said.

  “Of course not,” Amys said. “But wetlanders are always fawning over kings and lords. They seem
to like being told what to do. It makes them feel safe.”

  “Aes Sedai are different,” Egwene said.

  “The Aes Sedai keep implying that we should all be training in the White Tower,” Amys said. Her tone indicated what she thought of that idea. “They drone on, as noisy as a blind chippabird that cannot tell if it’s day or night. They need to see that we will never do such a thing. Tell them that you’re sending women to us to study our ways so we can understand one another. It is only the truth; they needn’t know that you also expect them to be strengthened by the experience.”

  “That might work.” Egwene was pleased; the plan was only a few hairs off from what she eventually wanted to accomplish.

  “This is a topic to consider in easier days,” Bair said. “I sense greater trouble in you than this, Egwene al’Vere.”

  “There is a greater trouble,” she said. “Rand al’Thor. Has he told you what he declared when he visited the White Tower?”

  “He said he angered you,” Amys said. “I find his actions odd. He visits you after all his talk of the Aes Sedai locking him up and putting him in a box?”

  “He was…different when he came here,” Egwene said.

  “He has embraced death,” Bair said again, nodding. “He becomes the Car’a’carn truly.”

  “He spoke powerfully,” Egwene said, “but his words were those of madness. He said he is going to break the seals on the Dark One’s prison.”

  Amys and Bair both froze.

  “You are certain of this?” Bair asked.

  “Yes.”

  “This is disturbing news,” Amys said. “We will consult with him on this. Thank you for bringing this to us.”

  “I will be gathering those who resist him.” Egwene relaxed. Until that moment, she hadn’t been certain which way the Wise Ones would go. “Perhaps Rand will listen to reason if enough voices are present.”

  “He is not known for his willingness to listen to reason,” Amys said with a sigh, rising. Egwene and Bair did so as well. The Wise Ones’ blouses were laced in an instant.

  “The time is long past for the White Tower to ignore the Wise Ones,” Egwene said, “or for the Wise Ones to avoid the Aes Sedai. We must work together. Hand in hand as sisters.”