The Wheel of Time, page 1086
She glanced at the table, where the precious books lay hidden from eyes. If she staged a mass assault on the Black Ajah, would that precipitate a battle? Would she destabilize the Tower even further? And could she realistically hope to strike at all of them like that? She needed time to consider the information. For now, that meant staying in the Tower and working against Elaida. And, unfortunately, that meant letting most of the Black sisters run free.
But not all of them. “Meidani,” Egwene said. “I want you to report to the others. They must take Alviarin into captivity and test her with the Oath Rod. Tell them to take any reasonable risk to achieve it.”
“Alviarin, Mother?” Meidani asked. “Why her?”
“She’s Black,” Egwene said, stomach turning. “And near the head of their organization in the Tower. This was the information Verin died to bring me.”
Meidani paled. “Are you certain, Mother?”
“I’m confident in Verin’s trustworthiness,” Egwene said. “But it would still be advisable to have others remove, then replace, Alviarin’s oaths and ask her if she’s Black. Every woman should be given that chance to prove herself, no matter the evidence. You have the Oath Rod, I assume?”
“Yes,” Meidani said. “We needed it to prove Nicola’s trustworthiness; the others wanted to bring some Accepted and novices in, as they can run messages where sisters cannot go.”
It was wise, considering the divisions among the Ajahs. “Why her?”
“Because of how often she speaks to the others about you, Mother,” Meidani said. “It’s well known that she’s one of your greatest advocates among the novices.”
It was odd to hear that of a woman who had effectively betrayed her, but the girl couldn’t really be blamed for that, all things considered.
“They didn’t let her swear all three oaths, of course,” Meidani said. “She’s not Aes Sedai. But she did take the oath about lying and proved herself not a Darkfriend. They removed the oath after.”
“And you, Meidani?” Egwene asked. “Have they removed the fourth oath from you?”
The woman smiled. “Yes, Mother. Thank you.”
Egwene nodded. “Go, then. Pass on my message. Alviarin must be taken.” She glanced at Verin’s body. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to take her with you as well. It will be better if she vanishes, as opposed to my having to explain her death in my room.”
“But—”
“Use a gateway,” Egwene said. “Skim if you don’t know the area well enough.”
Meidani nodded, then Embraced the Source.
“Weave something else, first,” Egwene said thoughtfully. “It doesn’t matter what; something that requires a lot of power. Perhaps one of the hundred weaves one takes in the test to become Aes Sedai.”
Meidani frowned, but did as asked, weaving something very complicated and power-intensive. Soon after she began, Turese poked her head into the room suspiciously. The weave blocked her sight of Verin’s face, fortunately, but Turese wasn’t focused on the “sleeping” Brown. She focused on the weave, opening her mouth.
“She is showing me some of the weaves I will need to know if I take the test to become Aes Sedai,” Egwene said curtly, cutting off Turese’s words. “Is that forbidden?”
Turese glared at her, but pulled the door shut and withdrew.
“That was to prevent her from poking in and seeing the weaves for gateways,” Egwene said. “Quickly now. Take the body. When Turese looks in again, I will tell her the truth—that you and Verin left through a gateway.”
Meidani glanced at Verin’s corpse. “But what should we do with the body?”
“Whatever seems appropriate,” Egwene said, growing testy. “I’ll leave that to you. I don’t have the time to deal with it now. And take that cup with you; the tea is poisoned. Dispose of it carefully.”
Egwene glanced at her flickering candle; it was burned nearly all the way down to the table itself. To the side, Meidani sighed softly, then created a gateway. Weaves of Air moved Verin’s body in through the opening, and Egwene watched her go with a pang of regret. The woman had deserved better. Someday, it would be known what she had suffered and what she had accomplished. But not for a time yet.
Once Meidani was gone with the corpse and the tea, Egwene lit another candle, then lay down on her bed, trying not to think of the body that had occupied it previously. She relaxed herself, thinking of Siuan. The woman would be going to sleep soon. She needed to be warned about Sheriam and the others.
Egwene opened her eyes in Tel’aran’rhiod. She was in her room, or at least the dream version of it. The bed was made, the door closed. She changed her dress to that of a stately green gown fitting an Amyrlin, then moved herself to the Tower’s Spring Garden. Siuan wasn’t there yet, but it was probably still a little early for their meeting.
Here, at least, one could see none of the filth that piled up in the city or the corruption that worked at the roots of Ajah unity. The Tower gardeners moved like natural forces, planting, cultivating, and harvesting as Amyrlins rose and fell. The Spring Garden was smaller than most of the other Tower gardens; it was a triangular plot of land pressed between two walls. Perhaps in another city, this plot would have been used for storage or simply filled in with stone. But in the White Tower, both options would have been unsightly.
The solution was a small garden full of plants that thrived in the shade. Hydrangeas ran up the walls and surged around planters. Bleeding hearts sat in rows, with their tiny pink blossoms drooping from delicate three-pronged compound leaves. Flowering bristleboughs, with their thin, fingerlike leaves, and other small shade trees ran along the insides of the triangular walls, meeting in a single point.
Walking up and down the lines of trees as she waited, Egwene thought of Sheriam being Black. How many things had the woman had a hand in? She’d been Mistress of Novices for years during Siuan’s tenure as Amyrlin. Had she used her position to bully, perhaps to turn, other sisters? Had she been behind the attack of the Gray Man so long ago?
Sheriam had been part of the group that Healed Mat. Surely she could have done nothing malicious while in a circle with so many other women—but anything involving the woman was suspect. That was so much! Sheriam had been one of those in charge of Salidar before Egwene’s rise to power. What had Sheriam done, how much manipulation had she exerted then, how much had she betrayed to the Shadow?
Had she been aware ahead of time of Elaida’s plans to depose Siuan? Galina and Alviarin were Black, and they had been two of the main instigators, so it seemed likely other Blacks had been warned. Were the exodus of half of the Tower, the gathering in Salidar, and the subsequent waiting and debating all part of the Dark One’s plan? What of Egwene’s own rise to power? How many of the Shadow’s strings did she dance on without knowing it?
This is an exercise in futility, she told herself firmly. Don’t go down that path. Even without Verin’s books, Egwene had suspected that the breaking of the Tower was the Dark One’s work. Of course he would be pleased that the Aes Sedai had split in two, rather than unifying behind one leader.
It was just more . . . personal now. Egwene felt dirtied, she felt duped. For a moment, she felt herself to be the country girl many thought her to be. If Elaida had been a pawn for the Blacks, then so had she. Light! How the Dark One must have laughed to see two rival Amyrlins, each with one of his loyal minions at her side, pitting them against one another.
I can’t be certain exactly what he wants or why he wants it, Verin had said. Even after years of study, I can’t be certain. . . . Who knew whether the Dark One laughed?
She shivered. Whatever his plan, she would fight him. Resist him. Spit in his eye, even if he won, just as the Aiel said.
“Well, that’s a sight,” Siuan’s voice said.
Egwene spun, realizing with chagrin that she no longer wore the dress of the Amyrlin, but a full suit of armor like a soldier riding to battle. In her hand, she carried a pair of Aiel spears.
She banished armor and spears with a thought, resuming the dress. “Siuan,” she said curtly. “You may want to summon yourself a chair. Something has happened.”
Siuan frowned. “What?”
“First off, Sheriam and Moria are Black Ajah.”
“What?” Siuan said, shocked. “What nonsense is this?” She froze. “Mother,” she added belatedly.
“It is not nonsense,” Egwene said. “The truth, I’m afraid. There are others, but I will have to give you their names later. We can’t yet take them into custody. I need time to plan and think, an evening perhaps. We will strike soon. But until we do, I want Sheriam and Moria watched. Don’t be alone around them.”
Siuan shook her head in disbelief. “How certain are you about this, Egwene?”
“Certain enough,” Egwene said. “Watch them, Siuan, and be thinking of what to do. I’ll want to hear your suggestions. We’ll need a way to take them quietly, then prove to the Hall that what we’ve done is justified.”
“This could be dangerous.” Siuan rubbed her chin. “I hope you know what you are doing, Mother.” She emphasized the last word.
“If I err,” Egwene said, “then it will be on my head. But I don’t think that I do. As I said, much has changed.”
Siuan bowed her head. “Are you still captive?”
“Not exactly. Elaida has—” Egwene hesitated, frowning to herself. Something was wrong.
“Egwene?” Siuan asked, anxious.
“I. . . .” Egwene began, then shuddered. Something was pulling on her mind, clouding it. Something was . . .
Pulling her back. Tel’aran’rhiod winked away and Egwene opened her eyes back in her room, an anxious Nicola shaking her arm. “Mother,” she was saying. “Mother!”
The girl had a bloody gash on her cheek. Egwene sat up sharply, and at that moment the entire Tower shook as if from an explosion. Nicola grabbed her arm, yelping in fright.
“What is going on?” Egwene demanded.
“Shadowspawn!” Nicola cried. “In the air, serpents that throw flame and weaves of the One Power! They’re destroying us! Oh, Mother. It’s Tarmon Gai’don!”
Egwene felt a moment of primal, nearly uncontrollable panic. Tarmon Gai’don! The Last Battle!
She heard screams in the distance, followed by the shouts of soldiers or Warders. No . . . no, she needed to focus! Serpents in the air. Serpents that wielded the One Power . . . or with riders that wielded the One Power. Egwene threw off the blanket and leaped to her feet.
It wasn’t Tarmon Gai’don, but it was nearly as bad. The Seanchan had finally attacked the White Tower, just as Egwene had Dreamed.
And she couldn’t channel enough Power to light a candle, let alone fight back.
CHAPTER 40
The Tower Shakes
Siuan awoke with a start. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. She scrambled off of her pallet. As she did, a dark figure moved suddenly on the other side of the tent, metal rasping against metal. Siuan froze, embracing the Source reflexively and summoning a globe of light.
Gareth Bryne stood alert, heron-marked steel drawn and ready. He wore only his smallclothes, and she had to keep herself from staring at his muscled body, which was in far better shape than that of most men half his age. “What is it?” he asked tensely.
“Light!” Siuan said. “You sleep with your sword?”
“Always.”
“Egwene is in danger.”
“What kind of danger?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “We were meeting and she vanished suddenly. I think . . . I think Elaida may have decided to execute her. Or at least pull her from her cell and . . . do something to her.”
Bryne didn’t ask for details. He simply sheathed his sword, then proceeded to put on a pair of trousers and a shirt. Siuan still wore her now-wrinkled blue skirt and blouse—it was her habit to change after her meetings with Egwene, once Bryne was sound asleep.
She felt an anxiety she couldn’t quite define. Why was she so on edge? It wasn’t uncommon for something to wake a person while they were dreaming.
But most people weren’t Egwene. She was a master of the World of Dreams. If something had awakened her unexpectedly, she would have dealt with it, then returned to calm Siuan’s worries. But she hadn’t, despite Siuan’s waiting for what had seemed like an eternity.
Bryne stepped up to her, now wearing his stiff gray trousers and uniform coat. He’d buttoned up his high collar, marked with three stars on the left breast and golden epaulets on the shoulders.
A frenzied voice called from outside. “General Bryne! My Lord General!”
Bryne glanced at her, then turned toward the tent flaps. “Come!”
A youthful soldier with neat black hair pushed into the tent and gave a quick salute. He didn’t apologize for coming so late—Bryne’s men knew that their general trusted them to awake him if there was need. “My Lord,” the man said. “Scout’s report. Something is going on in the city.”
“ ‘Something,’ Tijds?” Bryne asked.
“The scouts aren’t certain, my Lord,” the man said with a grimace. “With the cloud cover, the night is dark, and the spyglasses aren’t much help. There have been bursts of light near the Tower, like an Illuminator’s show. Dark shadows in the air.”
“Shadowspawn?” Bryne asked, pushing out of the tent. With the globe of light, Siuan and the soldier followed. The moon would be barely a sliver, and with those perpetual clouds, it was difficult to see anything at all. The tents of the officers were slumbering banks of black on black around them, and the only really distinguishable lights were the watchfires of the guards at the palisade entrance.
“They could be Shadowspawn, my Lord,” the soldier said, trotting after Bryne. “Stories tell of creatures of Shadow that fly in such a way. But the scouts aren’t certain what they’re seeing. The flashes of light are there for sure, though.”
Bryne nodded, heading toward the watchfires. “Alert the night guard; I want them up and armored, just in case. Send runners to the city fortifications. And bring me more information!”
“Yes, my Lord.” The soldier saluted and ran off.
Bryne glanced at Siuan, his face illuminated by the globe of light hovering above her hand. “Shadowspawn wouldn’t dare attack the White Tower,” he said. “Not without a substantial ground assault waiting, and I sincerely doubt that there are a hundred thousand Trollocs hiding in what little cover these plains offer. So what in the blazes is going on?”
“Seanchan,” Siuan said, a pit of ice forming in her stomach. “Fish guts, Gareth! It has to be. Egwene predicted it.”
He nodded. “Yes. They ride Shadowspawn, some of the rumors say.”
“Flying beasts,” Siuan said, “not Shadowspawn. Egwene said that they’re called raken.”
He eyed her doubtfully, but said only, “What would make the Seanchan so foolhardy as to attack without a ground assault in tandem?”
Siuan shook her head. She’d always assumed that a Seanchan strike at the White Tower would mean a large-scale invasion, and Egwene had guessed that the attack was still months off. Light! It looked like Egwene could be wrong.
Bryne turned toward his watchfires, which were blazing higher in the night, tossing light across the front of the palisade. Inside the ring of wood, officers were rousing, calling to neighboring tents. Lamps and lanterns winked on.
“Well,” Gareth said, “so long as they attack Tar Valon, they are no problem of ours. We just need to—”
“I’m getting her out,” Siuan said suddenly, surprising herself.
Bryne spun toward Siuan, into the light of her globe. His chin was shadowed by evening stubble. “What?”
“Egwene,” Siuan said. “We need to go in for her. This will provide a perfect distraction, Gareth! We can go in and grab her before anyone is the wiser.”
He eyed her.
“What?”
“You gave your word not to rescue her, Siuan.” Light, but it felt nice to hear him use her name!
Focus! she scolded herself. “That doesn’t matter now. She’s in danger and needs help.”
“She doesn’t want help,” Bryne said sternly. “We need to make certain our own force is safe. The Amyrlin is confident that she can care for herself.”
“I thought I could care for myself too,” Siuan said. “And look where it got me.” She shook her head, glancing toward the distant spire of Tar Valon. She could just faintly see a burst of light along the spire, illuminating it briefly. “When Egwene speaks of the Seanchan, she always shivers. Very little upsets her—not the Forsaken, not the Dragon Reborn. Gareth, you don’t know what the Seanchan do to women who can channel.” She met his eyes. “We need to go for her.”
“I will not be a party to this,” he said stubbornly.
“Fine,” Siuan spat. Fool man! “Go take care of your men. I think I know someone who will help me.” She stalked away, heading toward a tent just inside the palisade.
Egwene steadied herself against the wall of the hallway as the entire Tower shook again. The very stones quivered. Flakes of mortar crumbled down from the ceiling, and a loose tile fell from the wall and shattered into a dozen shards on the floor. Nicola screamed, and clutched at Egwene.
“The Dark One!” Nicola wailed. “The Last Battle! It’s come!”
“Nicola!” Egwene snapped, straightening up. “Control yourself. This isn’t the Last Battle. It’s the Seanchan.”
“Seanchan?” Nicola said. “But I thought they were just a rumor!”
Fool girl, Egwene thought, hurrying down a side hallway. Nicola scuttled after her, carrying her lamp. Egwene’s memory served her correctly, and the next hallway was at the edge of the Tower, giving her a window to the outside. She waved Nicola to the side, then risked a glance out into the darkness.
Sure enough, dark, winged forms flapped in the sky. Those were too big to be raken. To’raken, then. They swooped, weaves spinning around many of them, glowing and vibrant to Egwene’s eyes. Blasts of fire sprang into existence, lighting pairs of women riding on the backs of the to’raken. Damane and sul’dam.
But not all of them. “Meidani,” Egwene said. “I want you to report to the others. They must take Alviarin into captivity and test her with the Oath Rod. Tell them to take any reasonable risk to achieve it.”
“Alviarin, Mother?” Meidani asked. “Why her?”
“She’s Black,” Egwene said, stomach turning. “And near the head of their organization in the Tower. This was the information Verin died to bring me.”
Meidani paled. “Are you certain, Mother?”
“I’m confident in Verin’s trustworthiness,” Egwene said. “But it would still be advisable to have others remove, then replace, Alviarin’s oaths and ask her if she’s Black. Every woman should be given that chance to prove herself, no matter the evidence. You have the Oath Rod, I assume?”
“Yes,” Meidani said. “We needed it to prove Nicola’s trustworthiness; the others wanted to bring some Accepted and novices in, as they can run messages where sisters cannot go.”
It was wise, considering the divisions among the Ajahs. “Why her?”
“Because of how often she speaks to the others about you, Mother,” Meidani said. “It’s well known that she’s one of your greatest advocates among the novices.”
It was odd to hear that of a woman who had effectively betrayed her, but the girl couldn’t really be blamed for that, all things considered.
“They didn’t let her swear all three oaths, of course,” Meidani said. “She’s not Aes Sedai. But she did take the oath about lying and proved herself not a Darkfriend. They removed the oath after.”
“And you, Meidani?” Egwene asked. “Have they removed the fourth oath from you?”
The woman smiled. “Yes, Mother. Thank you.”
Egwene nodded. “Go, then. Pass on my message. Alviarin must be taken.” She glanced at Verin’s body. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to take her with you as well. It will be better if she vanishes, as opposed to my having to explain her death in my room.”
“But—”
“Use a gateway,” Egwene said. “Skim if you don’t know the area well enough.”
Meidani nodded, then Embraced the Source.
“Weave something else, first,” Egwene said thoughtfully. “It doesn’t matter what; something that requires a lot of power. Perhaps one of the hundred weaves one takes in the test to become Aes Sedai.”
Meidani frowned, but did as asked, weaving something very complicated and power-intensive. Soon after she began, Turese poked her head into the room suspiciously. The weave blocked her sight of Verin’s face, fortunately, but Turese wasn’t focused on the “sleeping” Brown. She focused on the weave, opening her mouth.
“She is showing me some of the weaves I will need to know if I take the test to become Aes Sedai,” Egwene said curtly, cutting off Turese’s words. “Is that forbidden?”
Turese glared at her, but pulled the door shut and withdrew.
“That was to prevent her from poking in and seeing the weaves for gateways,” Egwene said. “Quickly now. Take the body. When Turese looks in again, I will tell her the truth—that you and Verin left through a gateway.”
Meidani glanced at Verin’s corpse. “But what should we do with the body?”
“Whatever seems appropriate,” Egwene said, growing testy. “I’ll leave that to you. I don’t have the time to deal with it now. And take that cup with you; the tea is poisoned. Dispose of it carefully.”
Egwene glanced at her flickering candle; it was burned nearly all the way down to the table itself. To the side, Meidani sighed softly, then created a gateway. Weaves of Air moved Verin’s body in through the opening, and Egwene watched her go with a pang of regret. The woman had deserved better. Someday, it would be known what she had suffered and what she had accomplished. But not for a time yet.
Once Meidani was gone with the corpse and the tea, Egwene lit another candle, then lay down on her bed, trying not to think of the body that had occupied it previously. She relaxed herself, thinking of Siuan. The woman would be going to sleep soon. She needed to be warned about Sheriam and the others.
Egwene opened her eyes in Tel’aran’rhiod. She was in her room, or at least the dream version of it. The bed was made, the door closed. She changed her dress to that of a stately green gown fitting an Amyrlin, then moved herself to the Tower’s Spring Garden. Siuan wasn’t there yet, but it was probably still a little early for their meeting.
Here, at least, one could see none of the filth that piled up in the city or the corruption that worked at the roots of Ajah unity. The Tower gardeners moved like natural forces, planting, cultivating, and harvesting as Amyrlins rose and fell. The Spring Garden was smaller than most of the other Tower gardens; it was a triangular plot of land pressed between two walls. Perhaps in another city, this plot would have been used for storage or simply filled in with stone. But in the White Tower, both options would have been unsightly.
The solution was a small garden full of plants that thrived in the shade. Hydrangeas ran up the walls and surged around planters. Bleeding hearts sat in rows, with their tiny pink blossoms drooping from delicate three-pronged compound leaves. Flowering bristleboughs, with their thin, fingerlike leaves, and other small shade trees ran along the insides of the triangular walls, meeting in a single point.
Walking up and down the lines of trees as she waited, Egwene thought of Sheriam being Black. How many things had the woman had a hand in? She’d been Mistress of Novices for years during Siuan’s tenure as Amyrlin. Had she used her position to bully, perhaps to turn, other sisters? Had she been behind the attack of the Gray Man so long ago?
Sheriam had been part of the group that Healed Mat. Surely she could have done nothing malicious while in a circle with so many other women—but anything involving the woman was suspect. That was so much! Sheriam had been one of those in charge of Salidar before Egwene’s rise to power. What had Sheriam done, how much manipulation had she exerted then, how much had she betrayed to the Shadow?
Had she been aware ahead of time of Elaida’s plans to depose Siuan? Galina and Alviarin were Black, and they had been two of the main instigators, so it seemed likely other Blacks had been warned. Were the exodus of half of the Tower, the gathering in Salidar, and the subsequent waiting and debating all part of the Dark One’s plan? What of Egwene’s own rise to power? How many of the Shadow’s strings did she dance on without knowing it?
This is an exercise in futility, she told herself firmly. Don’t go down that path. Even without Verin’s books, Egwene had suspected that the breaking of the Tower was the Dark One’s work. Of course he would be pleased that the Aes Sedai had split in two, rather than unifying behind one leader.
It was just more . . . personal now. Egwene felt dirtied, she felt duped. For a moment, she felt herself to be the country girl many thought her to be. If Elaida had been a pawn for the Blacks, then so had she. Light! How the Dark One must have laughed to see two rival Amyrlins, each with one of his loyal minions at her side, pitting them against one another.
I can’t be certain exactly what he wants or why he wants it, Verin had said. Even after years of study, I can’t be certain. . . . Who knew whether the Dark One laughed?
She shivered. Whatever his plan, she would fight him. Resist him. Spit in his eye, even if he won, just as the Aiel said.
“Well, that’s a sight,” Siuan’s voice said.
Egwene spun, realizing with chagrin that she no longer wore the dress of the Amyrlin, but a full suit of armor like a soldier riding to battle. In her hand, she carried a pair of Aiel spears.
She banished armor and spears with a thought, resuming the dress. “Siuan,” she said curtly. “You may want to summon yourself a chair. Something has happened.”
Siuan frowned. “What?”
“First off, Sheriam and Moria are Black Ajah.”
“What?” Siuan said, shocked. “What nonsense is this?” She froze. “Mother,” she added belatedly.
“It is not nonsense,” Egwene said. “The truth, I’m afraid. There are others, but I will have to give you their names later. We can’t yet take them into custody. I need time to plan and think, an evening perhaps. We will strike soon. But until we do, I want Sheriam and Moria watched. Don’t be alone around them.”
Siuan shook her head in disbelief. “How certain are you about this, Egwene?”
“Certain enough,” Egwene said. “Watch them, Siuan, and be thinking of what to do. I’ll want to hear your suggestions. We’ll need a way to take them quietly, then prove to the Hall that what we’ve done is justified.”
“This could be dangerous.” Siuan rubbed her chin. “I hope you know what you are doing, Mother.” She emphasized the last word.
“If I err,” Egwene said, “then it will be on my head. But I don’t think that I do. As I said, much has changed.”
Siuan bowed her head. “Are you still captive?”
“Not exactly. Elaida has—” Egwene hesitated, frowning to herself. Something was wrong.
“Egwene?” Siuan asked, anxious.
“I. . . .” Egwene began, then shuddered. Something was pulling on her mind, clouding it. Something was . . .
Pulling her back. Tel’aran’rhiod winked away and Egwene opened her eyes back in her room, an anxious Nicola shaking her arm. “Mother,” she was saying. “Mother!”
The girl had a bloody gash on her cheek. Egwene sat up sharply, and at that moment the entire Tower shook as if from an explosion. Nicola grabbed her arm, yelping in fright.
“What is going on?” Egwene demanded.
“Shadowspawn!” Nicola cried. “In the air, serpents that throw flame and weaves of the One Power! They’re destroying us! Oh, Mother. It’s Tarmon Gai’don!”
Egwene felt a moment of primal, nearly uncontrollable panic. Tarmon Gai’don! The Last Battle!
She heard screams in the distance, followed by the shouts of soldiers or Warders. No . . . no, she needed to focus! Serpents in the air. Serpents that wielded the One Power . . . or with riders that wielded the One Power. Egwene threw off the blanket and leaped to her feet.
It wasn’t Tarmon Gai’don, but it was nearly as bad. The Seanchan had finally attacked the White Tower, just as Egwene had Dreamed.
And she couldn’t channel enough Power to light a candle, let alone fight back.
CHAPTER 40
The Tower Shakes
Siuan awoke with a start. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. She scrambled off of her pallet. As she did, a dark figure moved suddenly on the other side of the tent, metal rasping against metal. Siuan froze, embracing the Source reflexively and summoning a globe of light.
Gareth Bryne stood alert, heron-marked steel drawn and ready. He wore only his smallclothes, and she had to keep herself from staring at his muscled body, which was in far better shape than that of most men half his age. “What is it?” he asked tensely.
“Light!” Siuan said. “You sleep with your sword?”
“Always.”
“Egwene is in danger.”
“What kind of danger?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “We were meeting and she vanished suddenly. I think . . . I think Elaida may have decided to execute her. Or at least pull her from her cell and . . . do something to her.”
Bryne didn’t ask for details. He simply sheathed his sword, then proceeded to put on a pair of trousers and a shirt. Siuan still wore her now-wrinkled blue skirt and blouse—it was her habit to change after her meetings with Egwene, once Bryne was sound asleep.
She felt an anxiety she couldn’t quite define. Why was she so on edge? It wasn’t uncommon for something to wake a person while they were dreaming.
But most people weren’t Egwene. She was a master of the World of Dreams. If something had awakened her unexpectedly, she would have dealt with it, then returned to calm Siuan’s worries. But she hadn’t, despite Siuan’s waiting for what had seemed like an eternity.
Bryne stepped up to her, now wearing his stiff gray trousers and uniform coat. He’d buttoned up his high collar, marked with three stars on the left breast and golden epaulets on the shoulders.
A frenzied voice called from outside. “General Bryne! My Lord General!”
Bryne glanced at her, then turned toward the tent flaps. “Come!”
A youthful soldier with neat black hair pushed into the tent and gave a quick salute. He didn’t apologize for coming so late—Bryne’s men knew that their general trusted them to awake him if there was need. “My Lord,” the man said. “Scout’s report. Something is going on in the city.”
“ ‘Something,’ Tijds?” Bryne asked.
“The scouts aren’t certain, my Lord,” the man said with a grimace. “With the cloud cover, the night is dark, and the spyglasses aren’t much help. There have been bursts of light near the Tower, like an Illuminator’s show. Dark shadows in the air.”
“Shadowspawn?” Bryne asked, pushing out of the tent. With the globe of light, Siuan and the soldier followed. The moon would be barely a sliver, and with those perpetual clouds, it was difficult to see anything at all. The tents of the officers were slumbering banks of black on black around them, and the only really distinguishable lights were the watchfires of the guards at the palisade entrance.
“They could be Shadowspawn, my Lord,” the soldier said, trotting after Bryne. “Stories tell of creatures of Shadow that fly in such a way. But the scouts aren’t certain what they’re seeing. The flashes of light are there for sure, though.”
Bryne nodded, heading toward the watchfires. “Alert the night guard; I want them up and armored, just in case. Send runners to the city fortifications. And bring me more information!”
“Yes, my Lord.” The soldier saluted and ran off.
Bryne glanced at Siuan, his face illuminated by the globe of light hovering above her hand. “Shadowspawn wouldn’t dare attack the White Tower,” he said. “Not without a substantial ground assault waiting, and I sincerely doubt that there are a hundred thousand Trollocs hiding in what little cover these plains offer. So what in the blazes is going on?”
“Seanchan,” Siuan said, a pit of ice forming in her stomach. “Fish guts, Gareth! It has to be. Egwene predicted it.”
He nodded. “Yes. They ride Shadowspawn, some of the rumors say.”
“Flying beasts,” Siuan said, “not Shadowspawn. Egwene said that they’re called raken.”
He eyed her doubtfully, but said only, “What would make the Seanchan so foolhardy as to attack without a ground assault in tandem?”
Siuan shook her head. She’d always assumed that a Seanchan strike at the White Tower would mean a large-scale invasion, and Egwene had guessed that the attack was still months off. Light! It looked like Egwene could be wrong.
Bryne turned toward his watchfires, which were blazing higher in the night, tossing light across the front of the palisade. Inside the ring of wood, officers were rousing, calling to neighboring tents. Lamps and lanterns winked on.
“Well,” Gareth said, “so long as they attack Tar Valon, they are no problem of ours. We just need to—”
“I’m getting her out,” Siuan said suddenly, surprising herself.
Bryne spun toward Siuan, into the light of her globe. His chin was shadowed by evening stubble. “What?”
“Egwene,” Siuan said. “We need to go in for her. This will provide a perfect distraction, Gareth! We can go in and grab her before anyone is the wiser.”
He eyed her.
“What?”
“You gave your word not to rescue her, Siuan.” Light, but it felt nice to hear him use her name!
Focus! she scolded herself. “That doesn’t matter now. She’s in danger and needs help.”
“She doesn’t want help,” Bryne said sternly. “We need to make certain our own force is safe. The Amyrlin is confident that she can care for herself.”
“I thought I could care for myself too,” Siuan said. “And look where it got me.” She shook her head, glancing toward the distant spire of Tar Valon. She could just faintly see a burst of light along the spire, illuminating it briefly. “When Egwene speaks of the Seanchan, she always shivers. Very little upsets her—not the Forsaken, not the Dragon Reborn. Gareth, you don’t know what the Seanchan do to women who can channel.” She met his eyes. “We need to go for her.”
“I will not be a party to this,” he said stubbornly.
“Fine,” Siuan spat. Fool man! “Go take care of your men. I think I know someone who will help me.” She stalked away, heading toward a tent just inside the palisade.
Egwene steadied herself against the wall of the hallway as the entire Tower shook again. The very stones quivered. Flakes of mortar crumbled down from the ceiling, and a loose tile fell from the wall and shattered into a dozen shards on the floor. Nicola screamed, and clutched at Egwene.
“The Dark One!” Nicola wailed. “The Last Battle! It’s come!”
“Nicola!” Egwene snapped, straightening up. “Control yourself. This isn’t the Last Battle. It’s the Seanchan.”
“Seanchan?” Nicola said. “But I thought they were just a rumor!”
Fool girl, Egwene thought, hurrying down a side hallway. Nicola scuttled after her, carrying her lamp. Egwene’s memory served her correctly, and the next hallway was at the edge of the Tower, giving her a window to the outside. She waved Nicola to the side, then risked a glance out into the darkness.
Sure enough, dark, winged forms flapped in the sky. Those were too big to be raken. To’raken, then. They swooped, weaves spinning around many of them, glowing and vibrant to Egwene’s eyes. Blasts of fire sprang into existence, lighting pairs of women riding on the backs of the to’raken. Damane and sul’dam.
