The Gathering Storm

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.”

“Obvious?” Egwene said. “The Forsaken?”

“Well, by comparison.” Verin smiled and warmed her hands on her cup of tea. “The Chosen are like a bunch of squabbling children, each trying to scream the loudest and attract their father’s attention. It’s easy to determine what they want: Power over the other children, proof that they are the most important. I’m convinced that it isn’t intelligence, craftiness, or skill that makes one Chosen—though of course, those things are important. No, I believe it is selfishness the Great Lord seeks in his greatest leaders.”

Egwene frowned. Were they really having a quiet chat about the Forsaken? “Why would he choose that quality?”

“It makes them predictable. A tool you can depend upon to act as expected is far more valuable than one you cannot understand. Or perhaps because when they struggle against one another, it makes only the strong ones survive. I don’t know, honestly. The Chosen are predictable, but the Great Lord is anything but. Even after decades of study, I can’t be certain exactly what he wants or why he wants it. I only know that this battle isn’t being fought the way that al’Thor assumes it will be.”

“And what does this have to do with me?” Egwene asked.

“Not much,” Verin said, tsking at herself. “I’m afraid I let myself get sidetracked. And with so little time, too. I really must pay attention.” She still seemed like the pleasant, scholarly Brown sister. Egwene had always expected that Black sisters would be ... different.

“Anyway,” Verin continued. “We were talking about what you did here, in the Tower. I was afraid that I’d come and find you still dawdling with your friends outside. Imagine my amazement at finding that you’d not only infiltrated Elaida’s regime, but had apparently turned half of the Hall itself against her. You’ve certainly riled some of my associates, I can tell you that. They are none too pleased.” Verin shook her head, taking another sip of tea.

“Verin, I. . . .” Egwene paused. “What is—”

“No time, I’m afraid,” Verin said, leaning forward. Suddenly, something about her seemed to change. Though she was still the aged—and at times motherly—woman, her expression grew more determined. She caught Egwene’s eyes, and the intensity within that gaze shocked Egwene. Was this the same woman?

“Thank you for humoring a woman’s rambles,” Verin said, voice more soft. “It was so very nice to have a quiet chat over tea, at least once more. Now, there are some things you need to know. A number of years ago, I faced a decision. I found myself in a position where I could either take the oaths to the Dark One, or I could reveal that I had actually never wanted—or intended—to do so, whereupon I would have been executed.

“Perhaps another would have found a way around this situation. Many would have simply opted for death. I, however, saw this as an opportunity. You see, one rarely has such a chance as this, to study a beast from inside its heart, to see really what makes the blood flow. To discover where all of the little veins and vessels lead. Quite an extraordinary experience.”

“Wait,” Egwene said. “You joined the Black Ajah to study them?”

“I joined them to keep my skin intact,” Verin said, smiling. “I’m rather fond of it, though Tomas did go on about these white hairs. Anyway, after joining them, the chance to study them was my making the best of the situation.”

“Tomas. Does he know what you’ve done?”

“He was a Darkfriend himself, child,” Verin said. “Wanting a way out. Well, there really isn’t a way out, not once the Great Lord has his claws in you. But there was a way to fight, to make up for a little of what you’ve done. I offered that chance to Tomas, and I believe he was quite grateful to me for it.”

Egwene hesitated, trying to take all of this in. Verin was a Dark-friend . . . but not one at the same time. “You said he ‘was’ quite grateful to you?”

Verin didn’t answer immediately. She simply took another sip of her tea. “The oaths one makes to the Great Lord are quite specific,” she finally continued. “And, when they are placed upon one who can channel, they are quite binding. Impossible to break. You can double-cross other Dark-friends, you can turn against the Chosen if you can justify it. Selfishness must be preserved. But you can never betray him. You can never betray the order itself to outsiders. But the oaths are specific. Very specific.” She looked up, meeting Egwene’s eyes. “ ‘I swear not to betray the Great Lord, to keep my secrets until the hour of my death.’ That was what I promised. Do you see?”

Egwene looked down at the steaming cup in Verin’s hands. “Poison?”

“It takes a very special tea to make asping rot go down sweetly,” Verin said, taking another sip. “As I said, please thank Laras for me.”

Egwene closed her eyes. Nynaeve had mentioned asping rot to her; a drop could kill. It was a quick death, peaceful, and often came . . . within an hour of ingestion.

“A curious hole in the oaths,” Verin said softly. “To allow one to effect a betrayal in the final hour of one’s life. I cannot help wondering if the Great Lord knows of it. Why wouldn’t he close that hole?”

“Perhaps he doesn’t see it as threatening,” Egwene said, opening her eyes. “After all, what kind of Darkfriend would kill themselves in order to advance the greater good? It doesn’t seem the kind of thing his followers would consider.”

“You may be right at that,” Verin said, setting the cup of tea aside. “It would be wise to make certain that is disposed of with care, child.”

“So that is it?” Egwene asked, chilled. “What of Tomas?”

“We made our farewells. He is spending his last hour with family.”

Egwene shook her head. It seemed such a tragedy. “You come to me to confess, killing yourself in a final quest for redemption?”

Verin laughed. “Redemption? I should think that wouldn’t be so easily earned. Light knows I’ve done enough to require a very special kind of redemption. But it was worth the cost. Worth it indeed. Or perhaps that is simply what I must tell myself.” She reached to her side, pulling a leather scrip from beneath the folded blanket at the foot of Egwene’s bed. Verin carefully undid the straps, then produced two items: two books, both bound in leather. One was larger, like a reference book, though it had no title on its red binding. The other was a thin blue book. The covers of both were a little worn from use.

Verin handed them to Egwene. Hesitantly she took them, the larger volume heavy in her right hand, the blue book light in her left hand. She ran a finger over the smooth leather, frowning. She looked up at Verin.

“Every woman in the Brown,” Verin said, “seeks to produce something lasting. Research or study that will be meaningful. Others often accuse us of ignoring the world around us. They think we only look backward. Well, that is inaccurate. If we are distracted, it is because we look forward, toward those who will come. And the information, the knowledge we gather . . . we leave it for them. The other Ajahs worry about making today better; we yearn to make tomorrow better.”

Egwene set the blue book aside, looking into the red one first. The words were written in a small, efficient, but cramped hand she recognized as Verin’s. None of the sentences made sense. They were gibberish.

“The small book is a key, Egwene,” Verin explained. “It contains the cipher I used to write this tome. That tome is the . . . work. My work. The work of my life.”

“What is it?” Egwene asked softly, suspecting she might know the answer.

“Names, locations, explanations,” Verin said. “Everything I learned about them. About the leaders among the Darkfriends, about the Black Ajah. The prophecies they believe, the goals and motivations of the separate factions. Along with a list, at the back, of every Black Ajah sister I could identify.”

Egwene started. “Every one?”

“I doubt I caught them all,” Verin said, smiling. “But I think I got the large majority of them. I promise you, Egwene. I can be quite thorough.”

Egwene looked down at the books with awe. Incredible! Light, but this was a treasure greater than any king’s hoard. A treasure as great as the Horn of Valere itself. She looked up, tears in her eyes, imagining a life spent among the Black, always watching, recording, and working for the good of all.

“Oh, don’t go doing that,” Verin said. Her face was beginning to look pale. “They have many agents among us, like worms eating the fruit out from the core. Well, I thought it time that we had at least one of us among them. This is worth one woman’s life. Few people have had a chance to create something as useful, and as wonderful, as that book you hold. We all seek to change the future, Egwene. I think I might just have a chance at doing so.”

Verin took a deep breath, then raised a hand to her head. “My. That does work quickly. There is one more thing I must tell you. Open the red book, please.”

Egwene did so, and found a thin leather strap with steel weights on the ends, the type used for marking one’s place in a book, though it was longer than others she had seen.

“Wrap it around the book,” Verin said, “place it marking any page, then twist the loose ends around the top.”

Egwene did so, curious, tucking the strap into a random page and closing the book. She put the smaller book on top of the larger one, then took the long ends of the bookmark that dangled down and twisted them about one another. The weights, she noticed, fit together. She locked them into place.

And the books vanished.

Egwene stared. She could still feel them in her hands, but the books themselves were invisible.

“Only works on books, I’m afraid,” Verin said, yawning. “Someone from the Age of Legends, it appears, was very worried about hiding his or her journal from others.” She smiled slightly, but was growing very pale.

“Thank you, Verin,” Egwene said, unclasping and unwrapping the bookmark. The volumes appeared again. “I wish there were some other way . . .”

“I will admit that the poison was a backup plan,” Verin said. “I am not eager for death; there are still things I need to do. Fortunately, I have set several of them in motion to be ... seen to, in case I do not return. Regardless, my first plan was to find the Oath Rod, then see if I could use it to remove the Great Lord’s oaths. The Oath Rod appears to have gone missing, unfortunately.”

Saerin, Egwene thought, and the others. They must have taken it again. “I’m sorry, Verin,” she said.

“It might not have worked anyway,” Verin said, settling back on the bed, arranging the pillow behind her streaked brown hair. “The process of making those oaths to the Great Lord was . . . distinctive. I do wish I’d been able to discover one more tidbit for you. One of the Chosen is in the Tower, child. It’s Mesaana, I’m certain of it. I had hoped to be able to bring you the name she was hiding under, but the two times I met with her, she was shrouded to the point that I couldn’t tell. What I did see is recorded in the red book.

“Be careful where you tread. Be careful how you strike. I will leave it to you to decide if you want to try to get all of them at once, or if you want to take the most important ones separately in secret. Perhaps you will decide to watch and see if you can counter their plots. A good interrogation might yield light upon some of the questions I was not able to answer. So many decisions you must make, for one so young.” She yawned, then grimaced as a pain stabbed her.

Egwene rose, walking to Verin’s side. “Thank you, Verin. Thank you for choosing me to carry this burden.”

Verin smiled faintly. “You did very well with the previous tidbits I gave you. That was quite the interesting situation. The Amyrlin commanded that I give you information to hunt the Black sisters who fled the Tower, so I had to comply, even though the leadership of the Black was frustrated by the order. I wasn’t supposed to give you the dreaming ter’angreal, you know. But I’ve always had a feeling about you.”

“I’m not certain I deserve such trust.” Egwene looked down at the book. “Trust such as you’ve shown.”

“Nonsense, child,” Verin said, yawning again, eyes closing. “You will be Amyrlin. I’m confident of it. And an Amyrlin should be well armed with knowledge. That, among all things, is the most sacred duty of the Brown—to arm the world with knowledge. I’m still one of them. Please see that they know, although the word Black may brand my name forever, my soul is Brown. Tell them. ...”

“I will, Verin,” Egwene promised. “But your soul is not Brown. I can see it.”

Her eyes fluttered open, meeting Egwene’s, a frown creasing her forehead.

“Your soul is of a pure white, Verin,” Egwene said softly. “Like the Light itself.”

Verin smiled, and her eyes closed. The actual death was a few more minutes in coming, but unconsciousness came first and swiftly. Egwene sat, holding the woman’s hand. Elaida and the Hall could see to themselves; Egwene had prepared her seeds well. Showing up now and making demands would be to overextend her authority.

After Verin’s pulse faded, Egwene took the cup of poisoned tea and set it aside, then raised the saucer up in front of Verin’s nose. The shiny surface reflected no fog. It felt callous to double-check, but there were some poisons which could make one appear to be dead and breathe only very shallowly, and if Verin had wanted to trick Egwene and point a finger at the wrong sisters, this would have been a wonderful method. Callous indeed to double-check, and it made Egwene feel sick, but she was Amyrlin. She did that which was difficult and considered all possibilities.

Surely no truly Black sister would have been willing to die just to create such misdirection. Her heart trusted Verin, although her mind wanted to be certain. She glanced toward her simple desk, where she had set the books. At that moment, the door to her room opened without warning and a young Aes Sedai—new enough to the Shawl that her face didn’t show the ageless look yet—peeked in. Turese, one of the Red sisters. So someone had finally been assigned to watch over Egwene. Her period of freedom had come to an end. Well, there was no use crying over what could have been. The time had been well spent. She wished Verin had come to see her a week earlier, but what was done was done.

The Red sister frowned at seeing Verin, and Egwene quickly raised a finger to her lips and shot the young sister a harsh look.

Egwene hurried to the door. “She just got in, and wished to speak to me regarding a task she had set me upon long ago, back before the Tower split. They can be oddly single-minded at times, these Brown sisters.” True words, every one of them.

Turese nodded ruefully at the comment about Browns.

“I do wish she’d chosen her own bed to lie down in,” Egwene said. “I’m not sure what to do with her now.” All true again. Egwene really did need to get her hands on that Oath Rod. Lying started to seem far too convenient at times like this.

“She must be tired from her travels,” Turese said, voice soft but firm. “You let her do as she wishes; she is Aes Sedai, and you simply a novice. Do not disturb her.”

With that, the Red closed the door, and Egwene smiled to herself in satisfaction. Then she glanced at Verin’s corpse, and the smile faded. Eventually, she would have to reveal that Verin had died. How would she explain that} Well, she would think of something. If pressed, she might just tell the truth.

First, though, she needed to spend some time with that book. The chances of it being taken from her in the near future were great, even with the bookmark ter’angreal. She should probably store the cipher separate from the concealed book. Perhaps memorize and destroy the cipher. This would all be easier to plan for if she knew how events had gone in the Hall! Had Elaida been deposed? Was Silviana alive, or had she been executed?

There was little she could discover now, not while being guarded. She would simply have to wait. And read.

The code proved to be rather complex, requiring a good part of the smaller book to explain. That was both advantageous and frustrating. It would be very difficult to break the code without it, but the code would also be near impossible to memorize. She wouldn’t be able to manage it before morning, by which time she would have to reveal Verin’s true state.

She glanced over at the woman. Verin really did look as if she were sleeping peacefully. Egwene had pulled out the blanket and covered her up to the neck, then taken off her shoes and set them beside the bed to enhance the illusion. Feeling a little disrespectful, she decided to roll Verin onto her side. The Red sister had already peeked in a couple of times, and seeing Verin in another position would look less suspicious.

That finished, Egwene glanced at her candle to judge the passage of time. There were no windows in the room, not in a novice’s quarters. She shoved aside the longing to embrace the Power and create a ball of light by which to read. She’d have to be satisfied with the single candle’s flame.

She dug into her first task: deciphering the names of the Black sisters listed at the back of the tome. That was more important, even, than memorizing the cipher. She had to know whom she could trust.

The next few hours were among the most disturbing and discomforting in her life. Some of the names were unknown to her, many barely familiar. Others were women she had worked with, respected, and even trusted. She cursed when she found Katerine’s name near the head of the list, then hissed in surprise when Alviarin’s name came up. She’d heard of Elza Penfell and Galina Casban, though she didn’t know some of the next few names.

She felt a sickening pit within her when she read Sheriam’s name. Egwene had once suspected the woman, true, but that had been during her days as a novice and an Accepted. During those days—the days when she’d first begun hunting the Black Ajah—Liandrin’s betrayal had still been fresh. Egwene had suspected everyone then.

During the exile in Salidar, Egwene had worked closely with Sheriam and had grown to like the woman. But she was Black. Egwene’s own Keeper was Black. Steel yourself, Egwene, she thought, continuing to read down the list. She worked through the feelings of betrayal, the bitterness and the regret. She would not let emotions get in the way of her duty.

The Black sisters were spread across all Ajahs. Some were Sitters, others were the lowest and least powerful of Aes Sedai. And there were hundreds of them, a little over two hundred by Verin’s own count. Twenty-one in the Blue, twenty-eight in the Brown, thirty in the Gray, thirty-eight in the Green, seventeen in the White, twenty-one in the Yellow, and a stunning forty-eight in the Red. There were names of Accepted and novices as well. The book noted that those had probably been Darkfriends before they joined the White Tower, as the Black Ajah did not recruit from any except Aes Sedai. It referred her to an earlier page for a longer explanation, but Egwene continued down the list of sisters. She needed to know the names of each woman. She needed to.

There were Black sisters among the rebel Aes Sedai and those of the White Tower, and even some among those unaligned who had been away from the Tower during the split. Other than Sheriam, the most disturbing discovery on the list were the sisters who were Sitters in either the Tower or among the rebels. Duhara Basaheen. Velina Behar. Sedore Da-jenna. Delana Mosalaine, of course, and Talene Minly as well. Meidani had admitted to Egwene in confidence that Talene was the member of the Black Ajah that Saerin and the others had discovered, but she had fled the Tower.

Moria Karentanis. That last was a member of the Blue Ajah, a woman who had worn the shawl for over a hundred years, known for her wisdom and level-headedness. Egwene had conferred with her on numerous occasions, and had drawn on her experience, assuming that she—a Blue—would be one of the most reliable in her support. Moria had been one of those who had been eager to elect Egwene as Amyrlin, and had stood quickly in Egwene’s favor at several crucial moments.

Each name was like a thorn through Egwene’s skin. Dagdara Finchey, who had healed Egwene once when she’d stumbled and twisted her ankle. Zanica, who had taught Egwene lessons and had seemed so pleasant. Larissa Lyndel. Miyasi, for whom Egwene had cracked nuts. Nesita. Nacelle Kayama. Nalaene Forrell, who—like Elza—was bound to Rand. Birlen Pena. Melvara. Chai Rugan. . . .

The list went on. Neither Romanda or Lelaine were Black, which was somewhat irritating. Being able to throw one or both of those into chains would have been very convenient. Why Sheriam, but neither of those two?

Stop it, Egwene, she thought. You aren’t behaving rationally. Wishing for certain sisters to be Black got her nowhere.

Cadsuane was not on the list. Neither were any of Egwene’s dearest friends. She hadn’t expected them to be, but it was still good to complete the list without seeing any of their names. The group hunting the Black Ajah in the White Tower really was true, as none of their names were on the list. The list also didn’t contain the names of any of the spies sent from Salidar.

And Elaida’s name wasn’t on the list either. There was a notation at the end, explaining that Verin had looked very closely at Elaida, searching for proof that she was Black. But comments by Black sisters led her to believe strongly that Elaida was not herself Black. Just an unstable woman who was sometimes as frustrating to the Black as she was to the rest of the Tower.

It made sense, unfortunately. Knowing that Galina and Alviarin were Black had led Egwene to suspect that she wouldn’t find Elaida’s name on the list. The Blacks seemed more likely to choose someone they could manipulate to be Amyrlin, then install a Black Keeper to keep her in line.

They probably had used some kind of leverage against Elaida through Galina—whom Verin noted had probably managed to make herself Head of the Red Ajah—or Alviarin. They had bullied or bribed Elaida to do as they wished without her knowing that she was serving the Black. And that helped explain Alviarin’s strange fall. Had she gone too far, perhaps? Overstepped herself, earning Elaida’s ire? It seemed plausible, though they wouldn’t know for certain until Elaida spoke or Egwene could have Alviarin interrogated. Which she meant to do as soon as possible.

She closed the fat red book, thoughtful, her candle burned nearly down to the base. It was growing late in the day. Perhaps it was time to insist on being given some information about the state of the Tower.

Before she could decide how to go about that, a knock came at the door. Egwene looked up, hurriedly twisting the straps of the bookmark around and making both books vanish. A knock meant someone other than a Red was there.

“Come,” she called.

The door opened to reveal Nicola, with her large dark eyes and slender build, standing outside beneath the watchful eye of Turese. The Red did not seem pleased that Egwene had a visitor, but the steaming bowl carried on Nicola’s tray indicated why she’d been given leave to knock.

Nicola curtsied to Egwene, her white novice dress fluttering. Turese’s scowl deepened. Nicola didn’t notice, however. “For Verin Sedai,” she said softly, nodding toward the bed. “By orders of the Mistress of Kitchens, after hearing how exhausted Verin Sedai was from her travels.”

Egwene nodded, gesturing toward the table, hiding her excitement. Nicola approached quickly, setting the tray on the table, whispering under her breath, “I’m to ask if you trust her.” She glanced at the bed again.

“Yes,” Egwene answered, covering the sound by scooting her stool back. So her allies didn’t know that Verin was dead. That was good; the secret was still safe, for the moment.

Nicola nodded, then spoke in a louder voice. “It would be good for her to eat it when it’s warm, though I’ll leave it to you if you wish not to wake her. I’m instructed to warn you not to touch it yourself.”

“I won’t do so unless it turns out that she has no need of it,” Egwene replied, turning away. A few moments later, the door closed behind Nicola. Egwene waited a painful few minutes for Turese to open the door and check on her, passing the time by washing her face and hands, and putting on a clean dress. Finally, confident she wouldn’t be interrupted, she grabbed the spoon and fished in the soup. Sure enough, she found a small glass vial with a rolled-up piece of paper in it.

Clever. Her allies had apparently heard of Verin’s presence in Egwene’s room and decided to use it as an excuse to get someone in. She unrolled the paper, which contained only one word. “Wait.”

She sighed, but there was nothing to do. She didn’t dare get out the book and continue reading, however. Soon, she heard voices outside, and what sounded like an argument. Another knock came at the door.

“Come,” Egwene said, curious.

The door opened and Meidani stepped into the room. She pointedly closed the door on Turese. “Mother,” she said, curtsying. The slender woman was wearing a tight gray dress which pulled a little too obviously across her ample chest. Had she been scheduled for a dinner with Elaida this evening? “I am sorry to keep you waiting.”

Egwene waved dismissively. “How did you get past Turese?”

“It is known that Elaida . . . favors me with visits,” she said. “And Tower law says that no prisoner can be forbidden visitors. She could not stop a sister from wishing to visit a simple novice, though she did try to make a point of arguing it.”

Egwene nodded, and Meidani glanced at Verin, frowning. Then she paled. Verin’s features had grown waxy and dull, and it was obvious that something was wrong. It was a good thing that Turese had never looked closely at the “sleeping” woman.

“Verin Sedai is dead,” Egwene said, glancing at the door.

“Mother?” Meidani asked. “What happened? Where you attacked?”

“Verin Sedai was poisoned by a Darkfriend shortly before her conversation with me. She was aware of the poison, and came to pass on some important information to me during her last moments.” It was incredible what a few true statements could conceal.

“Light!” Meidani said. “A murder inside the White Tower? We have to tell someone! Gather the guard and—”

“It will be dealt with,” Egwene said firmly. “Keep your voice down and pull yourself together. I don’t want the guard outside to hear what we are saying.”

Meidani paled, then looked at Egwene, likely wondering how she could be so callous. Good. Let her see the collected, determined Amyrlin. As long as she didn’t see a hint of the grief, confusion and anxiety inside.

“Yes, Mother.” Meidani curtsied. “Of course. I apologize.”

“Now, you bring news, I assume?”

“Yes, Mother,” Meidani said, composing herself. “Saerin instructed me to come to you. She said you would need to know of the day’s events.”

“And I do,” Egwene said, trying not to show her impatience. Light, but she’d already been able to figure out that part. Couldn’t the woman get on with it? There were Black Ajah to deal with!

“Elaida is still Amyrlin,” Meidani said, “but only by a hair. The Hall of the Tower met and censured her formally. They informed Elaida that the Amyrlin was not an absolute ruler, and that she couldn’t continue to make decrees and demands without consulting them.”

Egwene nodded. “Not an unexpected turn,” she said. More than one Amyrlin had become only a figurehead because she’d overextended herself in a similar way. It was what Elaida had been heading for, and that would have been satisfactory, had these not been the end of days. “What of penance?”

“Three months,” Meidani said. “One for what she did to you. Two for behavior unbecoming her station.”

“Interesting,” Egwene said, thoughtful.

“There were some who called for more, Mother. It seemed that for a moment she might be deposed right there.”

“You were watching?” Egwene asked with surprise.

Meidani nodded. “Elaida asked for the proceedings to be Sealed to the Flame, but she gained no support in the move. I think that her own Ajah was behind that, Mother. All three of the Red’s Sitters are out of the Tower. I still wonder where Duhara and the others went.”

Duhara. A Black. What is she up to? And the other two? Were the three together, and if so, could the other two be Black as well?

She’d have to address that later. “How did Elaida take all of this?”

“She didn’t say much, Mother,” Meidani said. “She sat and watched, mostly. She didn’t look very pleased; I was surprised she didn’t start ranting.”

“The Reds,” Egwene said. “If she is really losing support in her own Ajah, they’d have warned her ahead of time not to make more waves.”

“That was Saerin’s assessment as well,” Meidani replied. “She also noted that your own insistence that the Red Ajah not be allowed to fall—spread by a group of novices who overheard you—was part of what kept Elaida from being deposed.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind her deposed,” Egwene said. “I just didn’t want the entire Ajah disbanded. Still, this might be for the best. Elaida’s fall has to come in a way that doesn’t tear the Tower down with her.” Though, if Egwene could do it again, she might retract those words said earlier. She didn’t want anyone to think that Egwene had been supporting Elaida. “I assume that Silviana’s sentence has been dismissed?”

“Not completely, Mother,” Meidani said. “She is being held as the Hall decides what to do to her. She still defied the Amyrlin in a very public way, and there is talk of penance.”

Egwene frowned. It smelled of a compromise; Elaida had probably met in closed conference with the head of the Red Ajah—whoever that was, now that Galina had vanished—hashing out the details. Silviana would still be punished, although not as strongly, but Elaida would submit to the will of the Hall. It indicated that Elaida was on shaky ground, but that she could still make demands. Her support wasn’t as completely eroded within her own Ajah as Egwene had hoped.

Still, this was a fortunate turn of events. Silviana would live, and Egwene—it appeared—would be allowed to return to her life as a “novice.” The Sitters were displeased enough with Elaida to reprimand her. Given just a little more time, Egwene was confident she could get the woman overturned and the Tower reunited. But dared she spend that time?

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.