Towers of Midnight

14 A Vow

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bair hesitated. “I have toh.”

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

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

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

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

“Have you seen Rand recently?” Egwene asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would they agree to this?” Bair asked.

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

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

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

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

“Aes Sedai are different,” Egwene said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are certain of this?” Bair asked.

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She turned from the window, then froze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They attacked?” Nynaeve asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nynaeve blinked. “Advice on what?”

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

“Amyrlin?” Nynaeve asked flatly.

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

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

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

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

“But eventually they respected you.”

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

“All right,” Egwene said.

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

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

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

“You have me. And Elayne.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Terrible,” Nynaeve said softly.

“And were they wrong to do so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not happily.”

“But you’d have done it.”

“Yes.”

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

Nynaeve hesitated, then shook her head.

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

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

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

“The station. All right. I’ll try.”

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

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

Egwene smiled encouragingly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” Nynaeve said dryly.

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why is that?”

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

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

“Have you seen him recently?” Egwene asked.

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

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

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

Egwene frowned. “What does that mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Elayne blushed. “Nobody said that he—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe you’re right,” Nynaeve said.

Elayne looked troubled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That gave Nynaeve pause.

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

“It will leave Rand completely unattended, Mother.”

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

“Yes,” Nynaeve said. “I suppose.”

“So you will return?”

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

“This is important, Nynaeve,” Egwene said. “I doubt there is anything you alone could do to stop Rand now. We need to gather allies for a unified front.”

“All right,” Nynaeve said.

“What worries me is the testing,” Egwene said. “The Sitters have begun to argue that—while it was all right to raise you and the others in exile—you should still have to go through the testing, now that the White Tower is reunified. They make very good arguments. Perhaps I can argue that your difficult challenges recently should earn you an exemption. We don’t have time to teach you two all of the weaves you’d need.”

Elayne nodded. Nynaeve shrugged. “I’ll do the testing. If I’m going to come back, then I might as well do this properly.”

Egwene blinked in surprise. “Nynaeve, these are very complex weaves I haven’t had time to memorize all of them; I swear that many are needlessly ornate simply to be difficult.” Egwene had no intention of going through the testing herself, and didn’t need to. The law was specific. By being made Amyrlin, she had become Aes Sedai. Things weren’t as clear in regards to Nynaeve and the others that Egwene had raised.

Nynaeve shrugged again. “The hundred testing weaves aren’t so bad I could show them to you right here, if you wanted me to.”

“When have you had time to learn those?” Elayne exclaimed.

“I haven’t spent the last few months mooning about and dreaming of Rand al’Thor.”

“Securing the throne of Andor is not ‘mooning about’!”

“Nynaeve,” Egwene cut in, “if you truly have the weaves memorized, then being raised properly would help me a great deal. It would look less like I’m favoring my friends.”

“The testing is supposed to be dangerous,” Elayne said. “Are you sure you have the weaves in hand?”

“I’ll be fine,” Nynaeve said.

“Excellent,” Egwene said. “I’ll expect you here in the morning.”

“So soon!” Nynaeve said, aghast.

“The sooner you can hold that Oath Rod, the sooner I’ll be able to stop worrying about you. Elayne, we’ll still have to do something about you.”

“The pregnancy,” Elayne said. “It’s interfering with my ability to channel. That’s getting better—I could get here, thankfully—but it’s still a problem. Explain to the Hall it would be too dangerous for me—and for the babes—to undergo the testing while unable to channel consistently.”

“They might suggest you wait,” Nynaeve said.

“And let me run around without the oaths?” Elayne said. “Though I would like to know if anyone’s taken the oaths while pregnant before, just to be sure.”

“I’ll find what I can,” Egwene said. “Until then, I have another task for you.”

“I am rather busy with ruling Andor, Mother.”

“I know,” Egwene said. “Unfortunately, there’s nobody else I can ask. I need more dream ter’angreal.”

“I might be able to manage,” Elayne said. “Assuming I can start channeling reliably.”

“What happened to the dream ter’angreal you had?” Nynaeve asked Egwene.

“Stolen,” Egwene said. “By Sheriam—who, by the way, was Black Ajah.”

The two gasped, and Egwene realized that the revelation of the hundreds of Black sisters was unknown to them. She took a deep breath. “Steel yourselves,” she said. “I’ve got a painful story for you. Before the Seanchan attack, Verin came to—”

At that moment, the bell went off in her head again. Egwene willed herself to move. The room blinked around her, and she was suddenly standing outside in the hallway, where her wards were set. She came face-to-face with Talva, a thin woman with a bun of golden hair. She had once been of the Yellow Ajah, but was one of the Black sisters who had fled the Tower. Weaves of Fire sprang up around Talva, but Egwene had already begun working on a shield. She slammed it between the other woman and the Source, immediately weaving Air to snare her. A sound came from behind. Egwene didn’t think; she moved herself, relying on practiced familiarity with Tel’aran’rhiod. She appeared behind a woman who was letting loose a jet of Fire. Alviarin. Egwene snarled, beginning another shield as Alviarin’s wave of Fire hit the unfortunate Talva, causing her to scream as her flesh burned. Alviarin spun, then yelped, vanishing. Burn her! Egwene thought. Alviarin was at the very top of the list of people she wanted captured. The hallway fell still, Talva’s corpse—blackened and smoking—slumping to the ground. She’d never awaken; die here, and one died in the real world.

Egwene shivered; that murderous weave had been meant for her. I relied too much on channeling, she thought. Thought happens more quickly than weaves can be made. I should have imagined ropes around Alviarin.

No, Alviarin would still have been able to jump away from ropes. Egwene hadn’t been thinking like a Dreamer. Lately, her mind had been on the Aes Sedai and their problems, and weaves had come naturally to her. But she couldn’t let herself forget that in this place, thought was more powerful than the One Power. Egwene looked up as Nynaeve barreled out of the Hall, Elayne following more cautiously. “I sensed channeling,” Nynaeve said. She looked at the burned corpse. “Light!”

“Black sisters,” Egwene said, folding her arms. “It seems they’re making good use of those dream ter’angreal. I’d guess they’re under orders to prowl the White Tower at night. Perhaps looking for us, perhaps looking for information to use against us.” Egwene and the others had done that very thing during Elaida’s reign.

“We shouldn’t have met here,” Nynaeve said. “Next time, we’ll use a different place.” She hesitated. “If it suits you, Mother.”

“It might,” Egwene said. “It might not. We’ll never defeat them unless we can find them.”

“Walking into traps is hardly the best way to defeat them, Mother,” Nynaeve said flatly.

“Depends on your preparation,” Egwene said. She frowned. Had she just seen a flutter of black cloth, ducking around a corner? Egwene was there in a moment; Elayne’s startled curse sounded down the hallway behind her. My, but the woman had a tongue on her.

The place was empty. Eerie, almost too silent. That was normal in Tel’aran’rhiod.

Egwene remained full of the One Power, but moved back to the other two. She had cleansed the White Tower, but an infestation remained, hiding at its heart.

I will find you, Mesaana, Egwene thought, then waved for the others to join her. They moved to the hillside where she’d been earlier, a place where she could give a more detailed explanation of events they’d missed.