The Wheel of Time, page 1162
Niall had held her as a prisoner, but had respected her, and she had begun to think that she might be able to respect him as well. What had happened to the board where she and Niall had played stones so often? She hated to think of it broken in the Seanchan assault.
Would Galad become a Lord Captain Commander like Niall, or perhaps someone better? The Queen in her, the Queen reawakened, wanted to find a way to bring his light out and stifle the shadow.
“Galad,” she said. “What are you going to do?”
“About the trial?”
“No. With this army of yours.”
“We will fight at the Last Battle.”
“Admirable,” she said. “But do you know what that means?”
“It means fighting alongside the Dragon Reborn.”
“And the Aes Sedai.”
“We can serve alongside the witches for a time, if it is in the name of the greater good.”
She closed her eyes, breathing out. “Galad, listen to yourself. You name them witches? You went to train with them, perhaps to become a Warder!”
“Yes.”
She opened her eyes. He seemed so earnest. But even the most deadly and violent of hounds could be earnest. “Do you know what they did to Elayne, Mother?” he asked.
“You mean losing her?” Morgase still harbored anger over that.
“They sent her out on missions,” he said, voice laced with disgust. “They refused to let me see her, probably because she was out being put into danger. I met her later, outside the Tower.”
“Where was she?” Morgase asked, eager.
“Here in the south. My men name the Aes Sedai witches. Sometimes, I wonder how far off from the truth that is.”
“Galad…”
“Not all women who wield the One Power are evil inherently,” he said. “That is a mistaken tradition of the Children. The Way of the Light doesn’t make that claim; it just says that the temptation to use the One Power can corrupt. I believe that the women who now run the White Tower have let their schemes and selfish plots blind them.”
She nodded, not wishing to argue the point. Thank the Light Elaida wasn’t here to hear that logic!
“Either way,” he said. “We will fight alongside them, and the Dragon Reborn, and this Perrin Aybara if need be. The struggle against the Shadow outweighs all other concerns.”
“Then let us join that struggle,” she said. “Galad, forget this trial! Aybara intends to disband some of his army and give the rest to al’Thor.”
He met her eyes, then nodded. “Yes. I can see now that the Pattern has led you to me. We will travel with you. After the trial has finished.”
She sighed.
“I don’t do this by choice,” Galad said, rising again. “Aybara himself suggested that he be tried. The man’s conscience weighs against him, and to deny him this opportunity would be wrong. Let him prove his innocence to us, and to himself. Then we can continue.” He hesitated, reaching out and touching the white-scabbarded sword on his dressing table. “And if we continue without him, then he will rest in the Light, having paid for his crimes.”
“Galad,” she said, “you know Lini was among the people you took from Perrin’s camp.”
“She should have spoken up, revealed herself to me. I would have set her free.”
“And yet she did not. I have heard you all but threatened to execute the prisoners if Perrin didn’t come to battle. Would you have actually done this?”
“Their blood would have been on his head.”
“Lini’s blood, Galad?”
“I…I would have seen her among them and removed her from danger.”
“So you would have killed the others,” Morgase said. “People who did no wrong, who were guilty of nothing more than being beguiled by Aybara?”
“The executions would never have occurred. It was merely a threat.”
“A lie.”
“Bah! What is the point of this, Mother?”
“To make you think, son,” Morgase said. “In ways that I should have encouraged before, rather than leaving you to your simple illusions. Life is not so easy as the toss of a coin, one side or the other. Have I ever told you of the trial of Tham Felmley?”
Galad shook his head, looking irritated.
“Listen to me. He was a brickmason in Caemlyn, a reputable one. He was accused of murdering his brother in the early days of my reign. He had enough repute, and the case was important enough, that I judged it myself. He hanged at the end of it.”
“A fitting end for a murderer.”
“Yes,” Morgase said. “Unfortunately, the murderer went free. One of his workers had actually done the deed. It didn’t come out until two years later, when the man was taken for another murder. He laughed at us then, as we hanged him. Felmley had been innocent all along. The real man, the murderer, was one of those to condemn him during the original trial.”
Galad fell silent.
“It’s the only time,” Morgase said, “where I know for certain that I hanged someone by mistake. So you tell me, Galad. Should I hang for my mistake in condemning an innocent man?”
“You did your best, Mother.”
“And a man is still dead who did not deserve it.”
Galad looked troubled.
“The Children like to speak of the Light protecting them,” Morgase said, “of guiding their judgment and leading people to justice. That isn’t how it works, Galad. Valda, claiming the blessing of the Light, could do terrible things. And I, hoping for the Light’s aid, have killed unjustly.
“I’m not saying that Aybara is innocent. I haven’t heard enough either way. But I want you to understand. Sometimes a good man can do wrong. At times, it is appropriate to punish him. At other times, punishment serves nobody, and the best thing to do is to let him continue and learn. As I continued and learned, after making such a poor judgment.”
Galad frowned. That was good. Finally, he shook his head, his face clearing. “We shall see what the trial brings. It—”
There was a knock on the post outside. Galad turned, his frown deepening. “Yes?”
“My Lord Captain Commander,” a Whitecloak said, lifting the flap and stepping into the tent. He was a lean man with sunken eyes that had dark patches beneath them. “We’ve just had word from the creature Aybara’s camp. They’re asking to push back the day of the trial.”
Galad stood. “For what purpose?” he demanded.
“A disturbance in their camp, they claim,” the Whitecloak said. “Something about wounded needing tending. My Lord Captain Commander…it is obviously a ploy. A trick of some sort. We should attack them, or at the very least, deny this pointless extension.”
Galad hesitated. He looked at Morgase.
“It is no ploy, son,” she said. “I can promise you that. If Aybara says he needs more time, he’s being honest with you.”
“Bah,” Galad said, waving the messenger away. “I shall consider it. Alongside the things you have said, Mother. Perhaps some extra time to consider would be…welcomed.”
“The channelers say they are working as hard as they can,” Gaul explained, walking beside Perrin through camp as they checked the various sections. “But they say it could take days to see to everyone.”
The sun was sinking toward the horizon, but it would probably be a long night for many of them, tending the wounded. Thousands had been wounded, though most wounds—fortunately—were not bad. They’d lost some people. Too many, maybe as many as had fallen to the snake bites.
Perrin grunted. Gaul himself had his arm in a sling; he’d fended off his spears, only to have one of his arrows nearly kill him. He’d blocked it with his forearm. When Perrin had asked, he’d laughed and said that it had been years since he’d shot himself with his own arrow. Aiel humor.
“Have we heard back from the Whitecloaks?” Perrin asked, turning to Aravine, who walked on his other side.
“Yes,” she said. “But nothing specific. Their commander said he’d ‘think’ about giving us more time.”
“Well, he’s not the one who will decide,” Perrin said, going into the Mayener section of camp to check on Berelain’s people. “I’m not going to risk a battle with a quarter of my men wounded and my Asha’man dead tired from Healing. We go to this trial when I say so, and if Damodred disagrees, he can just go ahead and attack us.”
Gaul grunted his agreement. He wore his spears, but Perrin noticed they were strapped more tightly in place than usual. Aravine carried a lantern, though they hadn’t needed to light it yet. She was anticipating a late night as well.
“Let me know when Tam and Elyas get back,” Perrin said to Gaul. Perrin had sent each one separately to visit nearby villages and make certain the people there—the ones who hadn’t joined a passing army—hadn’t suffered from the bubble of evil.
Berelain had composed herself, her hand bandaged. She gave the report to him herself, from her tent, saying how many of her soldiers had been wounded, giving the names of the men they’d lost. Only six from her camp.
Perrin yawned as he left the tent, sending Aravine to check on the Aes Sedai. Gaul had run off to help with carrying some of the wounded, and Perrin found himself alone as he walked down the path toward Alliandre’s section of camp.
His hammer hadn’t tried to kill him. So far as he knew, it was the only weapon on anyone’s person that hadn’t responded to the bubble of evil. What did it mean?
He shook his head, then hesitated, pausing in thought as he heard someone jogging along the path toward him. He caught Tam’s scent, and turned to meet the sturdy man as he arrived.
“Perrin, son,” Tam said, out of breath from running. “Something unusual just happened.”
“The bubble of evil hit the village?” Perrin asked, alarmed. “Were people hurt?”
“Oh, no,” Tam said. “Not that. The village was fine. They didn’t even notice anything was wrong. This is something else.” Tam smelled odd. Thoughtful, worried.
Perrin frowned. “What? What’s happening?”
“I…well, I have to go, son,” Tam said. “Leave the camp. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“Is this—”
“It has nothing to do with the Whitecloaks,” Tam said. “I’ve been told I can’t say much. But it’s about Rand.”
The colors swirled. Rand walked the hallways of the Stone of Tear. His expression was dark. Dangerous.
“Perrin,” Tam said, “I think this is something I need to do. It involves Aes Sedai, and I have to leave you now. I can’t say anything else. They made me swear it.”
Perrin looked into Tam’s eyes and saw the sincerity there. He nodded. “All right, then. You need any help? Someone to go with you, wherever you’re going?”
“I’ll be all right,” Tam said. He smelled embarrassed. What was going on? “I’ll try to get you some help, son.” He laid a hand on Perrin’s shoulder. “You’ve done well here. I’m proud of you, and your father would be too. Keep it up. I’ll see you at the Last Battle, if not before.”
Perrin nodded. Tam hurried off toward his tent, perhaps to pack.
It was hard to look regal while being carried atop the Caemlyn city wall on a litter, but Elayne did her best. Sometimes getting what you wanted was more important than looking regal.
Bed rest! For a queen! Well, in order to keep Melfane from hovering over her, she’d given an oath that she would stay off her feet. But she’d said nothing about staying in her bedroom.
Four Guardsmen carried the litter high on their shoulders. Elayne sat safely between armrests, wearing a crimson gown, hair carefully brushed, the Rose Crown of Andor atop her head.
The day was muggy, the weather turning warm, the sky still dark with clouds. She spared a moment to feel guilty for making the poor men, in dress uniform, carry her through this early-summer heat. But these men would ride to battle in her name; they could stand a little warm weather. How often did Guardsmen get the honor of carrying their queen, anyway?
Birgitte strode alongside the bed, and the bond indicated that she was amused. Elayne had feared she’d try to stop this excursion, but instead she had laughed! Birgitte must have determined that this day’s activities—though bound to upset Melfane—were no real risk to Elayne or her babes. To the Warder, that meant this was an opportunity to see Elayne get paraded through town looking foolish.
Elayne winced. What would the people say? The Queen, riding a litter, being marched to the outer wall? Well, Elayne wasn’t about to let rumors keep her from seeing the test firsthand, and she wasn’t about to be bullied by a tyrannical midwife.
She had quite a view from the wall. The fields leading to Aringill lay open to her left; the city bustled to her right. Those fields were too brown. Reports from around the realm were dire. Nine fields in ten had failed.
Elayne’s porters carried her up to one of the wall’s tower turrets, then hit a snag as they realized the poles on the litter were too long to make the turns on the stairs inside the tower; the demonstration was supposed to happen atop it. Luckily, there were alternative short handholds for just such situations. They removed the poles, switched to the handholds, and proceeded.
While they carried her up, she distracted herself by thinking about Cairhien. The noble Houses there all claimed to be eagerly awaiting her arrival to take the throne, and yet none offered more than the most flaccid support. Daes Dae’mar was fully in effect, and the posturing for Elayne’s ascent—or her failure to ascend—had begun the moment Rand had mentioned that he intended the nation to be hers.
In Cairhien, a hundred different political winds always blew in a hundred different directions. She didn’t have time to learn all of the different factions before she took the throne. Besides, if she was seen as playing the game, she could be seen as someone to defeat. She had to find a way to seize the Sun Throne without mixing too much in the local House politics.
Elayne’s litter creaked up and crested the lip of the tower’s turret. Atop the tower, Aludra stood with one of her prototype dragons. The bronze tube was quite long and set in a framework of wood. It was just a dummy, for display. A second, working dragon had been set up atop the next tower down the wall. It was far enough away that Elayne wouldn’t be in danger if something went wrong.
The slender Taraboner woman seemed to take no thought for the fact that she was delivering a potentially world-changing weapon to the queen of a foreign country; all Aludra seemed to want was a way to get back at the Seanchan, or so Mat had explained. Elayne had spent some time with the woman while traveling with Luca’s menagerie, but still wasn’t certain how trustworthy she was. She’d have Master Norry keep an eye on her.
Assuming, of course, the dragons worked. Elayne spared another glance for the people down below. Only then did she realize how high up she really was. Light!
I’m safe, she reminded herself. Min’s viewing. Not that she said anything like that to Birgitte, not any longer. And she did intend to stop taking so many risks. This wasn’t a risk. Not really.
She turned away before she grew dizzy and inspected the dragon more closely. It was shaped like a large bronze bell, though longer and narrower. Like an enormous vase turned on its side. Elayne had received more than one missive from the city’s irate bellfounders. Aludra insisted that her orders be carried out exactly and had forced the men to recast the tube three times.
Late the previous night, a loud crack had sounded across the city. As if a stone wall had fallen somewhere or a bolt of lightning had struck. This morning Elayne had received a note from Aludra.
First test a success, it had read. Meet me today on city wall for demonstration.
“Your Majesty,” Aludra said. “You are…well, yes?”
“I will be fine, Aludra,” Elayne said, trying to maintain her dignity. “The dragon is ready?”
“It is,” Aludra said. She wore a long brown dress, her black wavy hair loose, coming down to her waist. Why no braids today? Aludra didn’t seem to care for jewelry, and Elayne had never seen her wear any. A group of five men from Mat’s Band of the Red Hand stood with her, one carrying what appeared to be a chimney brush of some sort. Another had a metal sphere in his hands, and another carried a small wooden cask.
Elayne could see a similar group on the next tower over. Someone there raised a hat into the air and waved at her. Mat wanted to watch from the tower with the working dragon, it seemed. Foolhardy man. What if the thing exploded like a nightflower?
“The demonstration, then,” Aludra said, “we shall begin. These men here will show you what is being done on the other tower.” She hesitated as she regarded Elayne. “Her Majesty, I think we should prop her up, so that she can see the display.”
A few minutes later, they’d located some small boxes to place beneath the litter and elevate Elayne so that she could see over the tower’s crenelations. It appeared that something had been constructed on a distant hillside, though it was too far for Elayne to make out. Aludra pulled out several looking glasses and handed one each to Elayne and Birgitte.
Elayne raised her glass to her eye. Dressing dummies. Aludra had set up some fifty of them in ranks on the far hill. Light! Where had she gotten so many? Likely, Elayne would be getting some wordy missives from gownmakers across the city.
Mat had promised this would be worth practically any cost. Of course, that was Mat. He wasn’t exactly the most reliable person around.
He’s not the one who lost an invaluable ter’angreal to the Shadow, she reminded herself. She grimaced. In her pouch, she carried another replica of the foxhead. It was one of three she’d created so far. If she was going to be confined to her bed, then she might as well make use of her time. It would be a lot less frustrating if she could channel consistently.
All three of the replica foxhead medallions worked as the first replica had. She couldn’t channel while wearing one, and a powerful weave could overwhelm them. She really needed that original back for further study.
“You can see, Your Majesty,” Aludra said in a stiff voice, as if unaccustomed to giving a demonstration, “that we’ve tried to re-create the conditions under which you might make use of the dragons, yes?”
