The Wheel of Time

by Robert Jordan

  “So long as it isn’t some sun-blinded ridiculous thought about the Wise Ones training in the Tower,” Bair said. She smiled to show it was a joke, but succeeded only in baring her teeth.

  Egwene smiled. She did want the Wise Ones to train in the Tower. There were many methods of channeling that the Aes Sedai did better than the Wise Ones. On the other hand, the Wise Ones were better about working together and—Egwene admitted reluctantly—with leadership.

  The two groups could learn much from one another. She would find a way to tie them together. Somehow.

  She fondly bade farewell to the two Wise Ones, watching as they faded from Tel’aran’rhiod. Would that their counsel alone proved enough to turn Rand from his insane plan. But it was unlikely.

  Egwene took a breath. In an instant she stood in the Hall of the Tower, her feet planted directly on the Flame of Tar Valon painted on the floor. Seven spirals of color wound out from her, spinning toward the perimeter of the domed chamber.

  Nynaeve was not there. Egwene drew her lips to a line. That woman! Egwene could bring the White Tower to its knees, turn a staunch member of the Red Ajah to her side, earn the respect of the toughest Wise Ones. But Light help her if she needed the loyalty of her friends! Rand, Gawyn, Nynaeve—all infuriating in their own ways.

  She folded her arms to wait. Perhaps Nynaeve would still come. If not, this wouldn’t be the first time she had disappointed Egwene. A massive rose window dominated the far wall behind the Amyrlin Seat itself. The Flame at the center sparkled, as if there were sunlight beyond, though Egwene knew those boiling black clouds covered all the sky of the World of Dreams.

  She turned from the window, then froze.

  There, set into the glass below the Flame of Tar Valon, was a large segment in the shape of the Dragon’s Fang. That wasn’t part of the original window. Egwene stepped forward, inspecting the glass.

  There is a third constant besides the Creator and the Dark One, Verin’s meticulous voice said, a memory from another time. There is a world that lies within each of these others, inside all of them at the same time. Or perhaps surrounding them. Writers in the Age of Legends called it Tel’aran’rhiod.

  Did this window represent one of those, another world where Dragon and Amyrlin ruled Tar Valon side by side?

  “That’s an interesting window,” a voice said from behind her.

  Egwene started, spinning. Nynaeve stood there, wearing a dress of bright yellow trimmed with green across the high bodice and along the skirt. She wore a red dot at the center of her forehead, and had her hair woven into its characteristic braid.

  Egwene felt a surge of relief. Finally! It had been months since she’d seen Nynaeve. Cursing inside for letting herself be surprised, she smoothed her face and embraced the Source, weaving Spirit. A few inverted wards might help keep her from being startled again. Elayne was supposed to arrive a little later.

  “I didn’t choose this pattern,” Egwene said, looking back at the Rose Window. “This is Tel’aran’rhiod’s interpretation.”

  “But the window itself is real?” Nynaeve asked.

  “Unfortunately,” Egwene said. “One of the holes the Seanchan left when they attacked.”

  “They attacked?” Nynaeve asked.

  “Yes,” Egwene said. Something you would have known if you’d ever responded to my summons!

  Nynaeve folded her arms, and the two of them regarded one another across the room, Flame of Tar Valon centering the floor beneath them. This would have to be handled very carefully; Nynaeve could be as prickly as the worst of thornbushes.

  “Well,” Nynaeve said, sounding distinctly uncomfortable, “I know you’re busy, and Light knows I have enough things to be doing. Tell me the news you think I need to know, and I’ll be off.”

  “Nynaeve,” Egwene said, “I didn’t bring you here only to give you news.”

  Nynaeve grasped her braid. She knew she should be rebuked for the way she’d avoided Egwene.

  “Actually,” Egwene continued, “I wanted to ask your advice.”

  Nynaeve blinked. “Advice on what?”

  “Well,” Egwene said, strolling across the Flame, “you’re one of the few people I can think of who has been in a situation similar to mine.”

  “Amyrlin?” Nynaeve asked flatly.

  “A leader,” Egwene said, passing Nynaeve and nodding for her to walk beside her, “that everyone thinks is too young. Who rose to her position abruptly. Who knows she is the right woman for the job, yet has only grudging acceptance from most of those near her.”

  “Yes,” Nynaeve said, walking with Egwene, eyes growing distant. “You could say I know something of being in that situation.”

  “How did you deal with it?” Egwene asked. “It seems that everything I do, I need to do myself—because if I don’t, they ignore me once I’m out of sight. Many assume that I give orders just to be seen making noise, or they resent my position above them.”

  “How did I deal with it when I was Wisdom?” Nynaeve asked. “Egwene, I don’t know if I did. I could barely keep myself from boxing Jon Thane’s ears half the days, and don’t get me talking about Cenn!”

  “But eventually they respected you.”

  “It was a matter of not letting them forget my station. They couldn’t be allowed to continue to think of me as a young girl. Establish your authority quickly. Be firm with the women in the Tower, Egwene, because they’ll begin by seeing how far they can push you. And once you’ve let them push you a handspan, it’s harder than winter molasses to get back what you’ve lost.”

  “All right,” Egwene said.

  “And don’t come up with idle work for them to do,” Nynaeve said. They passed out of the Hall of the Tower, strolling through the hallways. “Get them used to you giving orders, but make those orders good ones. Make sure they don’t bypass you. I’d guess that it might be easy for them to start looking to the Sitters or the Ajah heads instead of you; women in Emond’s Field started going to the Women’s Circle instead of me.

  “If you discover that the Sitters are making decisions that should have come before the entire Hall, you have to make a big fuss about it. Trust me. They’ll grouse that you’re making too much noise over small things, but they’ll think twice about doing something important without your attention.”

  Egwene nodded. It was good advice, though—of course—it came colored by Nynaeve’s view of the world. “I think the biggest problem,” Egwene said, “is that I have so few true supporters.”

  “You have me. And Elayne.”

  “Do I?” Egwene said, stopping in the hallway and looking at Nynaeve. “Do I really have you, Nynaeve?”

  The former Wisdom stopped beside her. “Of course you do. Don’t be silly.”

  “And how will it seem,” Egwene asked, “if those who know me best refuse my authority? Might it seem to the others that there is something they do not know? Some weakness that only my friends have seen?”

  Nynaeve froze. Suddenly, her honesty melted into suspicion, her eyes narrowing. “This wasn’t about asking me for advice at all, was it?”

  “Of course it was,” Egwene said. “Only a fool would ignore the advice of those who support her. But how did it feel for you, those first weeks when you became Wisdom? When all the women you were supposed to be leading looked at you only as the girl they had known?”

  “Terrible,” Nynaeve said softly.

  “And were they wrong to do so?”

  “Yes. Because I’d become something more. It wasn’t me any longer, it was my station.”

  Egwene met the older woman’s eyes, holding them, and an understanding passed between them.

  “Light,” Nynaeve said. “You caught me quite soundly, didn’t you?”

  “I need you, Nynaeve,” Egwene said. “Not just because you’re so strong in the Power, not just because you’re a clever, determined woman. Not just because you’re refreshingly untainted by Tower politics, and not just because you’re one of the few who knew Rand befo
re this all began. But because I need people I can trust implicitly. If you can be one of those.”

  “You’ll have me kneeling on the ground,” Nynaeve said. “Kissing your ring.”

  “And? Would you have done it for another Amyrlin?”

  “Not happily.”

  “But you’d have done it.”

  “Yes.”

  “And do you honestly think there is another who would do a better job than I?”

  Nynaeve hesitated, then shook her head.

  “Then why is it so bitter for you to serve the Amyrlin? Not me, Nynaeve, but the station.”

  Nynaeve’s face looked as if she’d drunk something very bitter. “This will…not be easy for me.”

  “I’ve never known you to avoid a task because it was difficult, Nynaeve.”

  “The station. All right. I’ll try.”

  “Then you might begin by calling me Mother.” Egwene held up a finger to cut off Nynaeve’s objection. “To remind yourself, Nynaeve. It needn’t be permanent, at least not in private. But you must begin thinking of me as Amyrlin.”

  “All right, all right. You’ve pricked me with enough thorns. I already feel as if I’ve been drinking windsatter’s draught all day.” She hesitated, then added, “Mother.” She almost seemed to choke on the word.

  Egwene smiled encouragingly.

  “I won’t treat you the way women did me after I was first named Wisdom,” Nynaeve promised. “Light! Odd to be able to feel as they did. Well, they were still fools. I’ll do better; you’ll see it. Mother.”

  It sounded a little less forced that time. Egwene broadened her smile. There were few ways to motivate Nynaeve better than a competition.

  Suddenly, a tinkling bell rang in Egwene’s mind. She’d almost forgotten her wards. “I think Elayne has arrived.”

  “Good,” Nynaeve said, sounding relieved. “Let’s go to her, then.” She began striding back toward the Hall, then froze. She glanced back. “If it pleases you, Mother.”

  I wonder if she’ll ever be able to say that without sounding awkward, Egwene thought. Well, so long as she’s trying. “An excellent suggestion.” She joined Nynaeve. Upon arriving in the Hall, however, they found it empty. Egwene folded her arms, looking around.

  “Maybe she went looking for us,” Nynaeve said.

  “We’d have seen her in the hallway,” Egwene said. “Besides…”

  Elayne popped into the room. She wore a regal white gown, sparkling with diamonds. As soon as she saw Egwene, she smiled broadly, rushing over and taking her hands. “You did it, Egwene! We’re whole again!”

  Egwene smiled. “Yes, though the Tower is still injured. There is much to do.”

  “You sound like Nynaeve.” Elayne glanced at Nynaeve, smiling.

  “Thank you,” Nynaeve said dryly.

  “Oh, don’t be so silly.” Elayne walked over and gave Nynaeve a friendly hug. “I’m glad you’re here. I’d worried that you wouldn’t come, and Egwene would have to hunt you down and pull your toes off one at a time.”

  “The Amyrlin,” Nynaeve said, “has much better things to do. Isn’t that right, Mother?”

  Elayne started, looking amazed. She got a glimmer in her eye, and hid a smile. She assumed that Nynaeve had been given a tongue-lashing. But, of course, Egwene knew that wouldn’t have worked with Nynaeve; it would be like trying to yank a burr out of your skin when its spines had gone in the wrong way.

  “Elayne,” Egwene said. “Where did you go, before we returned?”

  “What do you mean?” she said.

  “When you first came here, we were gone. Did you go somewhere looking for us?”

  Elayne seemed perplexed. “I channeled into my ter’angreal, went to sleep, and you were here when I appeared.”

  “Then who set off the wards?” Nynaeve asked.

  Troubled, Egwene reset the wards and then—thinking carefully—she wove an inverted ward against eavesdropping but altered it to allow a little bit of sound through. With another weave, she projected that little bit far out around them.

  Someone who drew near would hear them as if whispering. They’d edge closer, but the sound would remain a whisper. Perhaps that would draw them closer, inch by inch, as they strained to hear.

  Nynaeve and Elayne watched her make the weaves, Elayne looking awed, though Nynaeve nodded thoughtfully to herself.

  “Sit, please,” Egwene said, making herself a chair and sitting in it. “We have much to discuss.” Elayne made herself a throne, probably unconsciously, and Nynaeve made a seat copying the chairs of the Sitters in the room. Egwene, of course, had moved the Amyrlin Seat.

  Nynaeve looked from one throne to another, obviously dissatisfied. Maybe that was why she’d resisted these meetings for so long; Egwene and Elayne had risen so far.

  It was time for some honey to take away the bitterness. “Nynaeve,” Egwene said. “I’d like it very much if you could return to the Tower and teach more of the sisters in your new method of Healing. Many are learning it, but they could use more instruction. And there are others who are reluctant to abandon the old ways.”

  “Stubborn goats,” Nynaeve said. “Show them cherries and they’ll still eat the rotten apples, if they’ve been doing it long enough. I’m not sure it would be prudent for me to come, though. Er, Mother.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Rand,” Nynaeve said. “Someone has to keep an eye on him. Someone other than Cadsuane, at least.” Her lips turned down at that woman’s name. “He’s changed recently.”

  “Changed?” Elayne said, sounding concerned. “What do you mean?”

  “Have you seen him recently?” Egwene asked.

  “No,” Elayne said immediately. Too quickly. It was undoubtedly the truth—Elayne wouldn’t lie to her—but there were things she was hiding about Rand. Egwene had suspected it for a time. Could she have bonded him?

  “He has changed,” Nynaeve said. “And it’s a very good thing. Mother…you don’t know how bad he grew. There were times when I was terrified of him. Now…that’s gone. He’s the same person—he even talks the same way as before. Quietly, without anger. Before it was like the quiet of a knife being drawn, and now it’s like the quiet of a breeze.”

  “He’s awakened,” Elayne said suddenly. “He’s warm now.”

  Egwene frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “I…Actually, I don’t know.” Elayne blushed. “It came out. Sorry.”

  Yes, she’d bonded him. Well, that could be useful. Why didn’t she wish to speak of it? Egwene would have to talk to her alone sometime.

  Nynaeve was studying Elayne with narrowed eyes. Had she noticed as well? Her eyes flickered toward Elayne’s chest, then down at her belly.

  “You’re pregnant!” Nynaeve accused suddenly, pointing at Elayne.

  The Andoran queen blushed. That was right, Nynaeve wouldn’t know of the pregnancy, though Egwene had heard from Aviendha.

  “Light!” Nynaeve said. “I didn’t think I’d let Rand out of my sight long enough for that. When did it happen?”

  Elayne blushed. “Nobody said that he—”

  Nynaeve gave Elayne a flat stare, and the Queen blushed further. Both knew Nynaeve’s feelings about propriety in these matters—and, in truth, Egwene agreed. But Elayne’s private life was none of her business.

  “I’m happy for you, Elayne,” Egwene said. “And for Rand. I’m not certain what I think of the timing. You should know that Rand is planning to break the remaining seals upon the Dark One’s prison, and in so doing, risk releasing him upon the world.”

  Elayne pursed her lips. “Well, there are only three seals left, and they’re crumbling.”

  “So what if he is running that risk?” Nynaeve said. “The Dark One will be freed when the final seal crumbles; best if it happens when Rand is there to battle him.”

  “Yes, but the seals? That’s foolhardy. Surely Rand can face the Dark One, and defeat him, and seal him away without taking that risk.”

  �
�Maybe you’re right,” Nynaeve said.

  Elayne looked troubled.

  This was a more lukewarm reception than Egwene had expected. She’d thought that the Wise Ones would resist her, while Nynaeve and Elayne would immediately see the danger.

  Nynaeve has been around him too much, Egwene thought. She was likely caught up by his ta’veren nature. The Pattern bent around him. Those near him would begin to see things his way, would work—unconsciously—to see his will done.

  That had to be the explanation. Normally, Nynaeve was so levelheaded about these sorts of things. Or…well, Nynaeve wasn’t exactly levelheaded, really. But she generally did see the right way things needed to be done, so long as that right way didn’t involve her being wrong.

  “I need both of you to return to the Tower,” Egwene said. “Elayne, I know what you’re going to say—and yes, I realize that you are Queen, and that Andor’s needs must be met. But so long as you haven’t taken the oaths, other Aes Sedai will think you undeserving.”

  “She’s right, Elayne,” Nynaeve said. “You needn’t visit for long—enough time to be raised formally to an Aes Sedai and be accepted into the Green Ajah. The nobles of Andor won’t know the difference, but other Aes Sedai will.”

  “True,” Elayne said. “But the timing is…awkward. I don’t know if I want to risk swearing the oaths while pregnant. It might harm the children.”

  That gave Nynaeve pause.

  “You may have a point,” Egwene said. “I will have someone look into whether or not the oaths are dangerous in pregnancy. But Nynaeve, I want you back here for certain.”

  “It will leave Rand completely unattended, Mother.”

  “I’m afraid it is impossible to avoid.” Egwene met Nynaeve’s eyes. “I won’t have you as an Aes Sedai free of the oaths. No, close your mouth—I know you try to hold to the oaths. But so long as you are free of the Oath Rod itself, others will wonder if they could be free as well.”

  “Yes,” Nynaeve said. “I suppose.”

  “So you will return?”

  Nynaeve clenched her jaw, and seemed to be fighting an internal battle. “Yes, Mother,” she said. Elayne opened her eyes wider in shock.