Towers of midnight wot-13

by Robert Jordan

  She felt so drained. "I did what I had to. Who among you would not run if you saw people in danger? Who among you would forbid herself to channel if she saw Shadowspawn attacking? I acted as an Aes Sedai should.

  "This test," Barasine said, "is meant to ensure that a woman is capable of dedicating herself to a greater task. To see that she can ignore the distractions of the moment and seek a higher good."

  Nynaeve sniffed. "I completed the weaves I needed to. I maintained my focus. Yes, I broke my calm—but I kept a cool enough head to complete my tasks. One should not demand calmness for the mere sake of calmness, and a prohibition on running when there are people you need to save is foolish.

  "My goal in this test was to prove that I deserve to be Aes Sedai. Well, then I could argue that the lives of the people I saw were more important than gaining that title. If losing my title is what would be required to save someone's life—and if there were no other consequences—I'd do it. Every time. Not saving them wouldn't be serving a higher good; it would just be selfish."

  Barasine's eyes opened wide with anger. Nynaeve turned to walk—with some difficulty—to the side of the room, where she could sit on a bench and rest. The women gathered together to speak softly, and Egwene walked—still serene—over to Nynaeve. The Amyrlin sat down beside her. Though she had been allowed to participate in the test, and create some of the experiences that tested Nynaeve, the choice of the raising would be up to the others.

  "You've angered them," Egwene said. "And confused them."

  "I spoke the truth," Nynaeve grumbled.

  "Perhaps," Egwene said. "But I wasn't speaking of your outburst. During the test, you flouted the orders you were given."

  "I couldn't flout them. I didn't remember that I'd been given them. I… well, actually I could remember what I was supposed to do, but not the reasons." Nynaeve grimaced. "That's why I broke the rules. I thought they were just arbitrary. I couldn't remember why I wasn't supposed to run, so in the face of seeing people die, it seemed silly to walk."

  "The rules are supposed to hold strongly, even though you don't remember them," Egwene said. "And you should not have been able to channel before reaching the marker. That is in the very nature of the test."

  Nynaeve frowned. "Then how—"

  "You've spent too much time in Tel'aran'rhiod. This test… it seems to function much in the same way as the World of Dreams. What we create in our minds became your surroundings." Egwene clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "I warned them that this might be a danger. Your practice in the World of Dreams made you innately able to break the test."

  Nynaeve didn't reply to that, feeling sick. What if she did fail? Being cast out of the Tower now, after getting so close?

  "I think your infractions might help you, however," Egwene said softly.

  "What?"

  "You're too experienced to have been given this test," Egwene explained. "In a way, what happened is proof that you deserved the shawl when I granted it to you. You performed each of the weaves expertly, with speed and skill. I particularly liked the way you used 'useless' weaves, on occasion, to attack the things you saw."

  "The fight in the Two Rivers," Nynaeve said. "That one was you, wasn't it? The others don't know the place well enough to create it."

  "You can sometimes create visions and situations based on the mind of the woman being tested," Egwene said. "It is an odd experience, using this ter'angreal. One that I am not certain I understand."

  "But the Two Rivers was you."

  "Yes," Egwene admitted.

  "And the last one. With Lan?"

  Egwene nodded. "I'm sorry. I thought that if I didn't do it, nobody would—"

  "I am glad that you did," Nynaeve said. "It showed me something."

  "It did?"

  Nynaeve nodded, back against the wall, holding the blanket in place and closing her eyes. "I realized that if I had to choose between becoming an Aes Sedai and going with Lan, I'd choose Lan. What people call me doesn't change anything inside of me. Lan, however… he is more than a title. I can still channel—I can still be me—if I never become Aes Sedai. But I would never be myself again if I abandoned him. The world changed when I married him."

  She felt… freed, somehow, realizing it and saying it.

  "Pray the others don't realize that," Egwene said. "It would not be good for them to determine that you would place anything before the White Tower."

  "I wonder if," Nynaeve said, "we sometimes put the White Tower—as an institution—before the people we serve. I wonder if we let it become a goal in itself, instead of a means to help us achieve greater goals."

  "Devotion is important, Nynaeve. The White Tower protects and guides the world."

  "And yet, so many of us do it without families," Nynaeve said. "Without love, without passion beyond our own particular interests. So even while we try to guide the world, we separate ourselves from it. We risk arrogance, Egwene. We always assume we know best, but risk making ourselves unable to fathom the people we claim to serve."

  Egwene seemed troubled. "Don't voice those ideas too much, at least not today. They're already frustrated enough with you. But this testing was brutal, Nynaeve. I'm sorry. I couldn't be seen favoring you, but perhaps I should have put a stop to it. You did what you weren't supposed to, and that drove the others to be increasingly severe. They saw that sick children hurt you, so they put more and more of them into the test. Many seemed to consider your victories a personal affront, a contest of wills. That drove them to be harsh. Cruel, even."

  "I survived," Nynaeve said, eyes closed. "And I learned a great deal. About me. And about us."

  She wanted to be Aes Sedai, fully and truly embraced. She wanted it badly. But in the end, if these people chose to refuse her their approval, she knew she could continue on and do what she needed to do anyway.

  Eventually, the Sitters—trailed by Rosil—walked up. Nynaeve hauled herself to her feet to be respectful.

  "We must discuss the forbidden weave you used," Saerin said, stern.

  "It is the only way I know to destroy Darkhounds," Nynaeve said. "It was needed."

  "You do not have the right to decide that," Saerin said. "What you did destabilized the ter'angreal. You could have destroyed it, killing yourself and perhaps us. We want you to swear that you will never use that weave again."

  "I won't do that," Nynaeve said tiredly.

  "And if it means the difference between gaining the shawl or losing it forever?"

  "Giving an oath like that would be foolish," Nynaeve said. "I could find myself in a situation where people would die if I didn't use it. Light! I'll be fighting in the Last Battle alongside Rand. What if I were to get to Shayol Ghul and discover that, without balefire, I could not help the Dragon stop the Dark One? Would you have me choose between a foolish oath and the fate of the world?"

  "You think you're going to Shayol Ghul?" Rubinde asked, incredulous.

  "I'm going to be there," Nynaeve said softly. "It is not a question. Rand has asked it of me, though I would have gone if he hadn't."

  They shared a look, seeming troubled.

  "If you're going to raise me," Nynaeve said, "then you'll just have to trust my judgment on balefire. If you don't trust me to know when to use a very dangerous weave and when not to, then I'd rather you not raise me."

  "I would be careful," Egwene said to the women. "Refusing the shawl to the woman who helped cleanse the taint from saidin—the woman who defeated Moghedien herself in battle, the woman married to the King of Malkier—would set a very dangerous precedent."

  Saerin looked at the others. Three nods. Yukiri, Seaine and—surprisingly—Romanda. Three shakes of the head. Rubinde, Barasine, Lelaine. That left only Saerin. The deciding vote.

  The Brown turned back to her. "Nynaeve al'Meara, I declare that you have passed this test. Narrowly."

  To the side, Egwene let out a soft—almost inaudible—sigh of relief. Nynaeve realized she'd been holding her own breath. "It is done!" Rosi
l said, clapping her hands together. "Let no one ever speak of what has passed here. It is for us to share in silence with she who experienced it. It is done."

  The women nodded in agreement, even those who had voted against Nynaeve. Nobody would know that Nynaeve had nearly failed. They had probably confronted her about the balefire directly—rather than seeking formal punishment—because of the tradition of not speaking of what happened in the ter'angreal.

  Rosil clapped again. "Nynaeve al'Meara, you will spend the night in prayer and contemplation of the burdens you will take up on the morrow, when you don the shawl of an Aes Sedai. It is done." She clapped a third and final time.

  "Thank you," Nynaeve said. "But I already have my shawl and—"

  She cut off as Egwene gave her a glare. A serene glare, but a glare nonetheless. Perhaps Nynaeve had pushed things far enough tonight already.

  "—I will be happy to follow tradition," Nynaeve continued, discarding her objection. "So long as I am allowed to do one very important thing first. Then I will return and fulfill tradition."

  Nynaeve needed a gateway to get where she was going. She hadn't specifically told the others she'd be leaving the Tower to see to her task. But she hadn't said she wouldn't, either.

  She hustled through the dark camp of tents which sat just outside a partially built wall. The night sky was dim, with those clouds covering it, and fires burned at the perimeter of the camp. Perhaps too many fires. Those here were being extremely cautious. Fortunately, the guards had allowed her into the camp without comment; the Great Serpent ring worked wonders, when applied in the right locations. They'd even told her where to find the woman she sought.

  In truth, Nynaeve had been surprised to find these tents outside, rather than inside, the walls of the Black Tower. These women had been sent to bond Asha'man, as Rand had offered. But according to the guards, Egwene's envoy had been made to wait. The Asha'man had said that "others had the first choice," whatever that meant. Egwene probably knew more; she'd sent messengers back and forth with the women here, particularly to warn them about Black sisters who might be among them. Those they'd known of had vanished before the first messengers arrived.

  Nynaeve hadn't the mind to ask more details at the moment. She had another task. She stepped up to the proper tent, feeling so tired from the testing that she felt she would soon tumble to the ground in a flurry of yellow cloth. A few Warders passed through the camp nearby, watching her with calm expressions.

  The tent before her was a simple gray thing. It was lit with a faint glow, and shadows moved inside. "Myrelle," Nynaeve said loudly. "I would speak with you." She was surprised at how strong her voice sounded. She didn't feel that she had much strength remaining.

  The shadows paused, and then moved again. The tent flaps rustled, and a confused face peered out. Myrelle wore a blue nightgown that was almost translucent, and one of her Warders—a bear of a man with a thick black beard after the Illianer fashion—sat shirtless on the tent floor inside.

  "Child?" Myrelle said, sounding surprised. "What are you doing here?" She was an olive-skinned beauty, with long black hair and rounded curves. Nynaeve had to stop herself from reaching for her braid. It was too short now to tug. That was going to take a lot of getting used to.

  "You have something that belongs to me," Nynaeve said.

  "Hmm… That depends on opinion, child." Myrelle frowned.

  "I was raised today," Nynaeve said. "Formally. I passed the testing. We are equals now, Myrelle." She left the second part unsaid—that Nynaeve was the stronger of the two. Not truly equals, then.

  "Return tomorrow," Myrelle said. "I am occupied." She moved to turn back into the tent.

  Nynaeve caught the woman's arm. "I have never thanked you," she said, though she had to grit her teeth to get the words out. "I do so now. He lives because of you. I realize that. However, Myrelle, this is not a time to push me. Today, I have seen people I love slaughtered, I have been forced to consign children to living torment. I have been burned, scourged and harrowed. I swear to you, woman, if you do not pass me Lan's bond this very moment, I will step into that tent and teach you the meaning of obedience. Do not press me. In the morning, I swear the Three Oaths. I'm free of them for one more night."

  Myrelle froze. Then she sighed and stepped back out of the tent. "So be it. She closed her eyes, weaving Spirit and sending the weaves into Nynaeve.

  It felt like an object being shoved physically into her mind. Nynaeve gasped, her surroundings spinning. Myrelle turned and slipped back into her tent. Nynaeve slid down until she was sitting on the ground. Something was blossoming inside her mind. An awareness. Beautiful, wonderful.

  It was him. And he was still alive.

  Blessed Light, she thought, eyes closed. Thank you.

  CHAPTER 21

  An Open Gate

  "We thought it best," Seonid said, "to let one of us give the full report. I have gathered information from the others for presentation."

  Perrin nodded absently. He sat on cushions in the meeting pavilion, Faile at his side. It was crammed full of people again.

  "Cairhien is still in a mess, of course," Seonid began. The businesslike Green was a curt woman. Not mean or disagreeable, but even her interactions with her Warders seemed like those of a prosperous farmer with his workers. "The Sun Throne has remained unoccupied for far too long. All know that the Lord Dragon has promised the throne to Elayne Trakand, but she has been struggling to secure her own throne. She has finally done so, by reports."

  She looked to Perrin for comment, smelling satisfied. He scratched at his beard. This was important, and he needed to pay attention. But thoughts of his training in the wolf dream kept drawing his mind. "So Elayne is Queen. That must make Rand happy."

  "The Lord Dragon's reaction is unknown," Seonid continued, as if checking off another item on a list. The Wise Ones made no comments and asked no questions; they sat on their cushions in a little cluster, like rivets on a hinge. Likely, the Maidens had already told them all of this.

  "I am reasonably certain that the Lord Dragon is in Arad Doman," Seonid continued. "Several rumors speak of this—though, of course, there are rumors placing him in many places. But Arad Doman makes sense to him as a tactical conquest, and the unrest there threatens to destabilize the Borderlands. I'm not certain if it's true that he sent the Aiel there or not."

  "He did," Edarra said simply. She offered no further explanation.

  "Yes," Seonid said. "Well, many of the rumors say that he is planning to meet the Seanchan in Arad Doman. I suspect he would want the clans there to aid him."

  That brought up thoughts of Maiden. Perrin imagined damane and Wise Ones at war, the One Power ripping through ranks of soldiers, blood earth and fire spinning in the air. It would be like Dumai's Wells, only worse. He shivered. Anyway, from the visions—and they appeared as Seonid spoke—he knew that Rand was where she said.

  Seonid continued, speaking of trade and food resources in Cairhien. Perrin found himself thinking about that strange violet wall he'd seen in the wolf dream. Idiot, he told himself sternly. Keep listening. Light! He really was a bad ruler. He'd had no trouble running at the front of the wolves when they'd let him hunt. Why couldn't he do the same for his own people?

  "Tear is rallying troops," Seonid said. "Rumors say the Lord Dragon commanded King Darlin to gather men for war. There is apparently a king in Tear now, by the way. A curious event. Some say that Darlin will march for Arad Doman, though others say it must be for the Last Battle. Still others insist that al'Thor intends to defeat the Seanchan first. All three options seem plausible, and I can't give more without a trip to Tear myself." She eyed Perrin, smelling hopeful.

  "No," Perrin said. "Not yet. Rand isn't in Cairhien, but Andor seems stable. It makes the most sense for me to head there and talk to Elayne. She'll have information for us."

  Faile smelled worried.

  "Lord Aybara," Seonid said, "do you think the Queen will welcome you? With the flag of Manethe
ren, and your self-endowed title of Lord… Perrin scowled. "Both of those fool banners are down now, and Elayne will see things right, once I explain them to her."

  "And my soldiers?" Alliandre said. "You will probably want to ask before moving foreign troops onto Andoran soil."

  "You won't be coming," Perrin said. "I've said it before, Alliandre. You'll be in Jehannah. We'll get you there as soon as we deal with the Whitecloaks."

  "Has a decision been made about them, then?" Arganda asked, leaning forward, eager and excited.

  "They've demanded a battle," Perrin said. "And they ignore my requests for further parley. I've a mind to give them a fight." They began talking of that, though it soon became a discussion of what it meant to have a king in Tear. Eventually, Seonid cleared her throat and steered the conversation back to her report.

  "The Seanchan are a matter of great discussion in Cairhien," Seonid said "The invaders seem to be focusing on securing their lands, including Altara. They are still expanding in the west, however, and there are pitched battles on Almoth Plain."

  "Expanding toward Arad Doman," Arganda said. "There is a battle brewing there."

  "Most likely," Seonid said.

  "If the Last Battle comes," Annoura said, "then it would be advantageous to have an alliance with the Seanchan." She seemed thoughtful, legs crossed as she sat on her embroidered blue and yellow silk pillow.

  "They have chained Wise Ones," Edarra said, her too-young face growing dark. She smelled dangerous. Angry but cold, like the smell before a person planned to kill. "Not just Shaido, who deserve their fate. If there is an alliance with the Seanchan, it will end as soon as the Car'a'carn's work is finished. Already, many of my people speak of a blood feud with these invaders."

  "I doubt Rand wants a war between you," Perrin said.

  "A year and a day," Edarra said simply. "Wise Ones cannot be taken gai'shain, but perhaps the Seanchan ways are different. Regardless, we will give them a year and a day. If they do not release their captives when we demand them after that time, they will know our spears. The Car'a'carn cannot demand any more from us."