Robert Jordan & Brandon Sanderson - [Wheel of Time 13]

by Towers of Midnight (v1. 2) (epub)

  Tenobia came next. She slapped Rand with her left hand, a strong blow that cracked in the air. Min felt a flash of pain from Rand. Tenobia shook her hand afterward.

  King Paitar came last. The aging Arafellin with only a fringe of hair walked with his hands behind his back, contemplative. He stepped up to Rand and reached over and dabbed at the blood on Rand's cheek. Then he backhanded Rand with a blow that sent him to his knees, a spray of blood flying from his mouth.

  Min couldn't sit by any longer. "Rand!" she said, jumping down from her saddle and running to him. She reached his side, steadying him while glaring at the monarchs. "How dare you! He came to you peacefully."

  "Peacefully?" Paitar said. "No, young woman, he did not come to this world in peace. He has consumed the land with terror, chaos and destruction."

  "As the prophecies said that he would," Cadsuane said, walking up as Min helped Rand back to his feet. "You lay before him the burdens of an entire Age. You cannot hire a man to tebuild your house, then reproach him when he must knock down a wall to do the job."

  "That presumes that he is the Dragon Reborn," Tenobia said, folding her arms. "We "

  She cut off as Rand stood, then carefully slid Callandor from its sheath, glittering blade rasping. He held it forth. "Do you deny this, Queen Tenobia, Shield of the Notth and Sword of the Blightborder, High Seat of House Kazadi? Will you look upon this weapon and call me a false Dragon?"

  That quieted her. To the side, Easar nodded. Behind them, ranks of silent troops watched with lances, pikes and shields held high. As if in salute. Or as if in preparation to attack. Min looked up, and could faintly make out people lining the walls of Far Madding to watch.

  "Let us proceed," Easar said. "Ethenielle?"

  "Very well," the woman said. "I will say this, Rand al'Thor. Even if you do prove to be the Dragon Reborn, you have much to answer for."

  "You may take your price from my skin, Ethenielle," Rand said softly, sliding Callandor back into its sheath. "But only once the Dark One has had his day with me."

  "Rand al'Thor," Paitar said. "I have a question for you. How you answer will determine the outcome of this day."

  "What kind of question?" Cadsuane demanded.

  "Cadsuane, please," Rand said, holding up his hand. "Lord Paitar, I see it in your eyes. You know that I am the Dragon Reborn. Is this question necessary?"

  "It is vital, Lord al'Thor," Paitar replied. "It drove us here, though my allies did not know it from the start. I have always believed you to be the Dragon Reborn. That made my quest here even more vital."

  Min frowned. The aging soldier reached down to his sword hilt, as if ready to draw. The Maidens grew more alert. With a start, Min realized Paitar was still standing close to Rand. Too close.

  He could have that sword out and swinging for Rand's neck in an eyeblink, she realized. Paitar placed himself there to be ready to strike.

  Rand didn't break his gaze from the monarch. "Ask your question."

  "How did Tellindal Tirraso die?"

  "Who?" Min asked, looking at Cadsuane. The Aes Sedai shook her head, confused.

  "How do you know that name?" Rand demanded.

  "Answer the question," Easar said, hand on his hilt, body tense. Around them, ranks of men prepared themselves.

  "She was a clerk," Rand said. "During the Age of Legends. Demandred, when he came for me after founding the Eighty and One . . . She fell in the fighting, lightning from the sky . . . Her blood on my hands . . . How do you know that name!"

  Ethenielle looked to Easar, then to Tenobia, then finally to Paitar. He nodded, then closed his eyes, letting out a sigh that sounded relieved. He took his hand from his sword.

  "Rand al'Thor," Ethenielle said, "Dragon Reborn. Would you kindly sit down and speak with us? We will answer your questions."

  "Why have I never heard of this so-called prophecy?" Cadsuane asked. "Its nature required secrecy," King Paitar said. They all sat on cushions

  in a large tent in the middle of the Borderlander army. It made Cadsuane's shoulders itch, being surrounded like this, but the fool boy he would always be a fool boy, no matter how old he was looked perfectly at peace.

  Thitteen Aes Sedai waited outside the tent, which wasn't large enough for them all. Thirteen. That hadn't made al'Thor blink. What man who could channel would sit amid thirteen Aes Sedai and not sweat?

  He's changed, Cadsuane told herself. You're just going to have to accept that. Not that he didn't need her anymore. Men like him grew overly confident. A few little successes, and he'd trip over his own feet and land in some predicament.

  But . . . well, she was proud of him. Grudgingly proud. A little.

  "It was given by an Aes Sedai of my own family line," Paitat continued. The square-faced man sipped a small cup of tea. "My ancestor, Reo Myershi, was the only one who heard it. He ordered the words preserved, passed from monarch to monarch, for this day."

  "Speak them to me," Rand said. "Please."

  "I see him before you!" Paitar quoted. "Him, the one who lives many lives, the one who gives deaths, the one who raises mountains. He will break what he must break, but first he stands here, before our king. You will bloody him! Measure his restraint. He speaks! How was the fallen slain? Tellindal Tirraso, murdered by his hand, the darkness that came the day after the light. You must ask, and you must know your fate. If he cannot answer . . ."

  He trailed off, falling silent.

  "What?" Min asked.

  "If he cannot answer," Paitar said, "then you will be lost. You will bring his end swiftly, so that the final days may have their storm. So that Light may not be consumed by he who was to have preserved it. I see him. And I weep."

  "You came to murder him, then," Cadsuane said.

  "To test him," Tenobia said. "Or so we decided, once Paitar told us of the prophecy."

  "You don't know how close you came to doom," Rand said softly. "If I had come to you but a short time earlier, I'd have returned those slaps with balefire."

  "Inside the Guardian?" Tenobia sniffed disdainfully. "The Guardian blocks the One Power," Rand whispered. "The One Power only."

  What does he mean by that? Cadsuane thought, frowning. "We knew well the risk," Ethenielle said proudly. "I demanded the right to slap you first. Our armies had orders to attack if we fell."

  "My family has analyzed the words of the prophecy a hundred times over," Paitar said. "The meaning seemed clear. It was our task to test the Dragon Reborn. To see if he could be trusted to go to the Last Battle."

  "Only a month earlier," Rand said. "I wouldn't have had the memories to answer you. This was a foolish gambit. If you had killed me, then all would have been lost."

  "A gamble," Paitar said evenly. "Perhaps another would have risen in your stead."

  "No," Rand said. "This prophecy was like the others. A declaration of what might happen, not advice."

  "I see it differently, Rand al'Thor," Paitar said. "And the others agreed with me."

  "It should be noted," Ethenielle said, "that I didn't come south because of this prophecy. My goal was to see if I could bring some sense to the world. And then . . ." She grimaced.

  "What?" Cadsuane asked, finally sipping her tea. It tasted good, as it usually did near al'Thor these days.

  "The storms," Tenobia said. "The snow stopped us. And then, finding you proved more difficult than we'd assumed. These gateways. Can you teach them to our Aes Sedai?"

  "I will have your Aes Sedai taught in return for a promise," Rand said. "You will swear to me. I have need of you."

  "We are sovereigns," Tenobia snapped. "I'm not going to bow to you as quickly as my uncle did. We have to speak about that, by the way."

  "Our oaths are to the lands we protect," Easar said.

  "As you wish," Rand said, rising. "I once gave you an ultimatum. I phrased it poorly, and I regret that, but I remain your only path to the Last Battle. Without me, you will remain here, hundreds of leagues from those lands you swore to protect." He nodded to each
of them, then helped Min to her feet. "Tomorrow, I meet with the monarchs of the world. After that, I am going to go to Shayol Ghul and break the remaining seals on the Dark One's prison. Good day."

  Cadsuane didn't rise. She sat, sipping her tea. The four seemed astounded. Well, the boy certainly had picked up an understanding of the dramatic.

  "Wait!" Paitar finally sputtered, rising. "You're going to do what?"

  Rand turned. "I'm going to shatter the seals, Lord Paitar. I'm going to 'break what he must break' as your own prophecy says I must. You cannot stop me, not when those words prove what I will do. Earlier, I stepped in to prevent Maradon from falling. It was near to it, Tenobia. The walls are

  shattered, your troops bloodied. With help, I was able to save it. Barely. Your countries need you. And so, you have two choices. Swear to me, or sit here and let everyone else fight in your place."

  Cadsuane sipped her tea. That was going a little too fat.

  "I'll leave you to discuss my offer," Rand said. "I can spare one hour though, before you start your deliberation, could you send for someone on my behalf? There is a man in your army named Hurin. I would like to apologize to him."

  They still looked stunned. Cadsuane rose to go speak with the sistets waiting outside; she knew a few of them, and needed to feel out the others. She didn't worry about what the Borderlanders would decide. Al'Thor had them. Another army beneath his banner. I didn't think he'd tnanage this one.

  One more day and it all began. Light, but she hoped that they were ready.

  CHAPTER 52

  Boots

  Elayne settled herself in Glimmer's saddle. The mare was one of the prizes of the royal stable; she was of fine Saldaean stock with a brilliant white mane and coat. The saddle itself was rich, the leather trimmed with wine-red and gold. It was the sort of saddle you used when parading.

  Birgitte rode Rising, a tall dun gelding, also one of the fastest in the royal stables. The Warder had chosen both horses. She expected to have to run.

  Birgitte wore one of Elayne's foxhead copies, though it had a different shape, a thin silver disc with a rose on the front. Elayne carried another wrapped in cloth inside her pocket.

  She'd tried making another this morning, but it had melted, nearly setting her dresser on fire. She was having a great deal of difficulty without the original to study. Her dreams of arming all of her personal Guards with medallions was looking less and less possible, unless she somehow managed to persuade Mat to give her the original again.

  Her honor guard fell into mounted ranks around her and Birgitte in the Queen's Plaza. She was bringing only a hundred soldiers seventy-five Guardsmen and an inner ring of twenty-five Guardswomen. It was a tiny force, but she'd have gone without those hundred if she'd been able to get away with it. She couldn't afford to be seen as a conqueror.

  "I don't like this," Birgitte said.

  "You don't like anything, lately," Elayne said. "I swear, you're becoming more irritable by the day."

  "It's because you'te becoming more foolhardy by the day."

  "Oh, come now. This is hardly the most foolhatdy thing I've done."

  "Only because you've set a very high benchmark for yourself, Elayne."

  "It will be fine," Elayne said, glancing southward.

  "Why do you keep looking in that direction?"

  "Rand," Elayne said, feeling that warmth again, pulsing from the knot of emotions in her mind. "He's getting ready for something. He feels troubled. And peaceful at the same time." Light, but that man could be confusing.

  The meeting would happen in one day, if his original deadline still held. Egwene was right; breaking the seals would be foolish. But Rand would see reason.

  Alise rode up to her, accompanied by three Kinswomen. Sarasia was a plump woman with a grandmotherly air; dark-skinned Kema kept her black hair in three long braids, and prim Nashia with a youthful face wore a baggy dress.

  The four took up positions beside Elayne. Only two of them were strong enough for a gateway many of the Kin were weaker than most Aes Sedai. But that would be enough, assuming Elayne had trouble embracing the Source.

  "Can you do something to prevent archers from hitting her?" Birgitte asked Alise. "Some kind of weave?"

  Alise cocked her head thoughtfully. "I know of one that might help," she said, "but I've never tried it."

  Another Kinswoman wove a gateway up ahead. It opened to a span of rough, brown-grassed land outside of Cairhien. A much larger army waited there, wearing the cuirasses and bell-shaped helmets of Cairhienin troops. The officers were easy to spot with their dark clothing, in the colors of the Houses they served. They wore con rising over their backs.

  Tall, narrow-faced Lorsttum sat his mount at the front of his army, which wore dark green with crimson slashes; Bertome was on the other side. Their forces looked to be about the same size. Five thousand each. The other four Houses had fielded smaller armies.

  "If they wanted to take you captive," Bitgitte said grimly, "you're handing them the chance."

  "There's no way to do this and remain safe, not unless I want to hide in my palace and send my troops in. That would only lead to rebellion in Cairhien and potential collapse in Andor." She glanced at the Warder. "I'm

  Queen now, Birgitte. You're not going to be able to keep me from danger, no more than you could keep a lone soldier safe on the battlefield."

  Birgitte nodded. "Stay close to me and Guybon."

  Guybon approached, on a large dappled gelding. With Birgitte on one side of her and Guybon on the other and with both of their horses taller than Elayne's a would-be assassin would have great difficulty picking her off without first hitting her friends.

  So it would be for the rest of her life. She nudged Glimmer into motion, and her troop made its way through the gateway and onto Cairhienin soil. The noblemen and noblewomen ahead bowed or curtsied from horseback, and those oblations were deeper this time than they had been when meeting Elayne in her throne room. The show had begun.

  The city was just ahead, walls still blackened from fires during the fight with the Shaido. Elayne could sense Birgitte's tension as the gateway vanished behind. The Kin around Elayne embraced the source, and Alise wove an unfamiliar weave, placing it in the air around the inner ring of troops. It made a small but swift wind spinning in the air.

  Birgitte's anxiety was contagious, and Elayne found herself holding her reins in a tight grip as Glimmer moved forward. The air was drier here in Cairhien, with a faint dusty scent to it. The sky was overcast.

  The Cairhienin troops formed around her small group of Andorans in white and red. Most of the Cairhienin forces were foot, though there was some heavy cavalry, horses in shiny barding and men carrying lances pointed high into the air. All marched in perfect lines, protecting Elayne. Or keeping her captive.

  Lorstrum moved his bay stallion closer to Elayne's outer ranks. Guybon glanced at her, and she nodded, so the captain allowed him to approach.

  "The city is nervous, Your Majesty," Lorstrum said. Birgitte was still careful to keep her mount between his and Elayne's. "There are . . . unfortunate rumors surrounding your ascension."

  Rumors you probably initiated, Elayne thought, before you decided to support me instead. "Surely they won't rise against your troops?"

  "I hope they will not." He eyed her from under his flat cap of forest green. He wore a black coat that went down to his knees and slashes of color across it all the way down, to denote his House. It was the type of clothing he'd wear if going to a ball. That projected a sense of confidence. His force wasn't seizing the city, it was escorting the new queen with an honorary parade. "It is unlikely that there will be armed resistance. But I wanted to warn you."

  Lorstrum nodded to her with respect. He knew she was manipulating him, but he also accepted that manipulation. She would have to keep a cateful watch on him in the years to come.

  Cairhien was such a boxish city, all straight lines and fortified towers. Though some of its architecture was beautif
ul, thete was no comparing the place to Caemlyn or Tar Valon. They rode directly in through the northern gates, the River Alguenya to their right.

  Crowds waited inside. Lorstrum and the others had done their work well. There were cheers, probably started by carefully placed courtiers. As Elayne entered the city, the cheers grew louder. That surprised her. She had expected hostility. And yes, there was some of that the occasional thrown piece of refuse, hurled from the back of the crowd. She caught a jeer here and there. But most seemed pleased.

  As she rode down that broad passageway, lined with the rectangular buildings Cairhienin favored, she realized that perhaps these people had been waiting fot an event like this. Talking of it, spreading tales. Some of those tales had been hostile, and those were what Norry had reported. But they now seemed to her more a sign of worry than hostility. Cairhien had been too long without a monarch, theit king dead by unknown hands, the Lotd Dragon seemingly abandoning them.

  Her confidence grew. Cairhien was a wounded city. The burned and broken remnants of the Foregate outside. Cobbles had been torn up to be thrown from the walls. The city had never fully recovered from the Aiel War, and the unfinished Topless Towers symmettical in design, but woefully fotlorn in appearance were a lofty declaration of that fact.

  That bloody Game of Houses was nearly as bad a scourge. Could she change that? The people around her sounded hopeful, as if they knew what a twisted mess theit nation had become. One could sooner take away an Aiel's spears than cut the craftiness out of the Cairhienin, but perhaps she could teach them a greater loyalty to country and throne. So long as they had a throne worth that loyalty.

  The Sun Palace stood at the exact centet of the city. Like the rest of the city, it was square and angular, but here the architecture gave a sense of imposing strength. It was a grand building, despite the broken wing where the attempt on Rand's life had taken place.

  More nobles waited here, standing on covered steps or in front of ornate carriages. Women in formal gowns with wide hoops, the men in neat coats of dark colors, caps on the heads. Many looked skeptical, and some amazed.