Towers of Midnight

by Robert Jordan; Brandon Sanderson

  Those eyes did not look young. Min felt a moment of panic as his eyes held hers. Was this the same man? Had the Rand she loved been stolen away, replaced with an ancient force of a man she could never know or understand? Had she lost him after all?

  And then he smiled, and the eyes—deep though they had become— were his. That smile was something she'd been waiting a very long time to see again. It was now much more confident than the one he'd shown her during their early days together, yet it was still vulnerable. It let her see a part of him that others were never allowed.

  That part was the youth, somehow innocent still. She ran up to him and seized him in an embrace. "You wool-headed fool! Three days? What have you been doing for three days}"

  "Existing, Min," he said, wrapping his arms around her.

  "I wasn't aware that was such a difficult task."

  "It has been for me at times." He fell silent, and she was content to hold him. Yes, this was the same man. Changed—and for the better—but still Rand. She clung to him. She didn't care that people were gathering, more and more of them. Let them watch.

  Finally she exhaled, reluctantly pulling back. "Rand, Alanna is gone. She vanished earlier today."

  "Yes. I felt her go. Northward somewhere. The Borderlands, perhaps Arafel."

  "She could be used against you, to find where you are." He smiled. Light, but it felt good to see that expression on his face again! "The Shadow does not need her to find me, Min, nor will it ever again. All its eyes are fixed directly upon me, and will be until I blind them."

  "What? But Rand—"

  'It's all right, Min. The time when it could silence me quietly—and therefore win—has passed. The confrontation is assured and the scream that begins the avalanche has been sounded."

  He seemed afire with life. The thrill of it was intoxicating. He left an arm around her—the arm that ended in a stump—as he turned to regard the Aiel. "I have toh." Though the courtyard behind them was in chaos, the Aiel stood quietly.

  They were ready for this, Min thought. The Aiel weren't hostile, exactly but they didn't share the excitement of the Defenders. The Tairens thought Rand had returned to lead them to the Last Battle.

  "In the Waste," Rhuarc said, stepping forward, "there is an animal. The meegerling. It looks much like a rat, but it is far more stupid. If you place it near grain, it will go straight toward it, regardless of the danger. No matter how many times it falls in a trench between itself and the food it will repeat the same action if you move it back to the start. Aiel children amuse themselves with the game." He studied Rand. "I had not thought you would be a meegerling, Rand al'Thor."

  "I promise I will never leave you again," Rand said. "Not of my own choice, and not without informing and—if they consent—bringing Maidens as a guard."

  The Aiel did not budge. "This will prevent you from earning more toh" Rhuarc said. "It will not change what has gone before. And promises have been made before."

  "This is true," Rand said, meeting Rhuarc's eyes. "I will meet my toh, then."

  Something passed between them, something Min didn't understand, and the Aiel parted, looking more relaxed. Twenty Maidens came forward to act as a guard around Rand. Rhuarc retreated with the others, joining a small group of Wise Ones who watched from the periphery.

  "Rand?" Min said.

  "It will be all right," he said, though there was a grim cast to his emotions. "This was one of the things I needed to fix. One of many." He took his arm from around her and scanned the courtyard, feeling hesitant, as if he were looking for something. Whatever it was, he didn't see it, so he began to stride toward King Darlin, who had just arrived in a hurry.

  King Darlin bowed, hand on the pommel of his narrow side-sword. "My Lord Dragon. Are we to march, finally?"

  "Walk with me, Darlin," Rand said in reply as he moved through the courtyard. "There is much to do. Who else is here? Narishma, Flinn. Excellent." He nodded to the two black-coated Asha'man who arrived at a run. "Your Aes Sedai? Ah, there they come. Well, that will be next. Kai-nea, would you be so kind as to gather me some messengers?"

  One of the Maidens—a woman with oddly dark hair for an Aiel—ran as off to do as requested. Min frowned, keeping pace with Rand and Darlin the two Asha'man fell into step behind. Nynaeve and Merise led the group of Aes Sedai. They stopped when they saw Rand approaching, as if to let him be the one who came to meet them. They pulled together in a clump, fiddling with their clothing, look-ne more unsettled than Aes Sedai normally did.

  Rand crossed the bustling, open courtyard, walking into the shadow of the Stone's towering fortifications, then stepped up to them.

  "Rand al'Thor," Nynaeve said, folding her arms as he walked up to them. "You are—"

  'An idiot?" Rand finished, sounding amused. "An arrogant fool? An impulsive, wool-headed boy in need of a sound ear-boxing?" "Er. Yes."

  "All true, Nynaeve," he said. "I see it, now. Perhaps I've finally gained a portion of wisdom. I do think you need some new insults, however. The ones you use are wearing out like last year's lace. Someone send for Cadsuane. I promise not to execute her."

  The Aes Sedai seemed shocked by his brusque tone, but Min smiled. His confidence had surged again following the confrontation with the Aiel. It was supremely satisfying to see him disarm Aes Sedai, objections and condemnations dying on their lips. Merise sent a servant to fetch Cadsuane. "Narishma," Rand said, turning. "I need you to visit that Borderlander army that came looking for me. I'm assuming it's still in Far Madding. Tell the leaders there that I accept their terms and will come in a few days to meet with them."

  "My Lord Dragon?" Narishma said. "Is that prudent, considering the nature of that place?"

  "Prudent? Prudence is for those who intend to live long lives, Narishma. Darlin, I need the High Lords and Ladies lined up to receive me. One of these arriving messengers should be sufficient for the task. Also, post word that the White Tower has been reunified, and that Egwene al'Vere is the Amyrlin Seat."

  "What?" Merise said. Several of the other Aes Sedai gasped. Rand," Min said. "I doubt the Amyrlin will be pleased to have you publicizing the division."

  A valid point," Rand said. "Darlin, write a proclamation that Egwene al'Vere has succeeded Elaida a'Roihan as the Amyrlin. That should be enough to inform without revealing too much. Light knows I don't need to do anything else to make Egwene angry with me. . . ." Else?" Corele asked, paling.

  "Yes," Rand said offhandedly. "I've already been to the White Tower to see her."

  "And they let you go?" Corele asked.

  "I didn't allow them other options. Darlin, kindly marshal our forces here. I want them gathered by the evening. Flinn, we'll need gateways Large ones. A circle might be needed."

  "Tarwin's Gap?" Nynaeve said, eager.

  Rand glanced at her and hesitated. Min could feel his pain—sharp spiking, real—as he spoke. "Not yet, Nynaeve. I've poured hot oil into the White Tower, and it will be boiling soon. Time. We don't have time! I will get help to Lan, I vow it to you, but right now I must prepare to face Egwene."

  "Face her?" Nynaeve said, stepping forward. "Rand, what have you done?"

  "What needed to be done. Where is Bashere?"

  "He was out of the city with his men, my Lord Dragon," Flinn said, "running their horses. Should be back soon."

  "Good. He's going with me to Arad Doman. You too, Nynaeve. Min." He looked at her, and those unfathomable eyes seemed to draw her in. "I need you, Min."

  "You have me. Stupid looby."

  "Callandor" he said. "It plays a part in this. You have to find out how. I cannot seal the Bore the way I tried last time. I'm missing something, something vital. Find it for me."

  "I will, Rand." A cold shiver ran through her. "I promise."

  "I trust you." He looked up as a figure in a deep hooded cloak walked out of one of the Stone's many guard posts.

  "Cadsuane Melaidhrin," Rand said, "I pardon you for past mistakes and I revoke your exile. Not that it was ever
anything more than a minor inconvenience to you."

  She sniffed, lowering the hood. "If you believe that wearing a cloak in this heat is a 'minor' inconvenience, boy, then you need a lesson in contrast. I trust you see the error in your deed. It strikes me as unsuitable that I should need 'forgiveness' or a 'pardon' in the first place."

  "Well, then," Rand said. "Please accept my pardon alongside my apology. You may say I have been under unusual stress as of late."

  "Of all people," Cadsuane said sternly, "you cannot afford to let the pressure of life drive you."

  "On the contrary. I am who I have become because of that pressure, Cadsuane. Metal cannot be shaped without the blows of the hammer. But that is beside the point. You tried to manipulate me, and you failed horri-bly. But in that failure, you have shown me something."

  "Which is?"

  "I thought I was being forged into a sword," Rand said, eyes growing distant. "But I was wrong. I'm not a weapon. I never have been."

  "Then what are you?" Min asked, genuinely curious.

  He merely smiled. "Cadsuane Sedai, I have a task for you, if you will

  accept it."

  "I expect that will depend on the task," she said, folding her arms.

  "I need you to locate someone. Someone who is missing, someone I now suspect may be in the hands of well-meaning allies. You see, I've been informed that the White Tower is holding Mattin Stepaneos."

  Cadsuane frowned. "And you want him?"

  "Not at all. I haven't decided what to do about him yet, so he can stay Egwene's problem for the time. No, the person I want is probably somewhere in the Caralain Grass. I'll explain more when we are not in the open."

  The High Lords and Ladies were gathering. Rand looked toward them, though once again he scanned the courtyard, as if looking for something. Something that made him feel anxious.

  He turned back to the High Lords and Ladies. Min watched them skeptically. Aside from Darlin, she'd never been impressed with them. Rand rested his hand on her shoulder. The gathered nobles looked disheveled, apparently summoned from naps or meals, although they wore an assortment of fine silks and ruffles. They looked oddly out of place in the Stone's courtyard, where everyone else had a purpose.

  / shouldn't be so harsh on them, Min thought, folding her arms. But then, she had watched their plotting and pandering frustrate Rand. Besides, she'd never been fond of those who thought themselves more important than everyone else.

  "Form a line," Rand said, walking up to them.

  The High Lords and Ladies looked at him, confused.

  A line" Rand said, voice loud and firm. "Now."

  They did so, arranging themselves with haste. Rand began to walk down the row, starting with Darlin, looking each man or woman in the eye. Rand's emotions were . . . curious. Perhaps a touch angry. What was he doing?

  The courtyard grew still. Rand continued down the line, looking at each of the nobles in turn, not speaking. Min glanced to the side. Near the

  end of the line, Weiramon kept glancing at Rand, then looking away. The tall man had thinning gray hair, his beard oiled to a point.

  Rand eventually reached him. "Meet my eyes, Weiramon," Rand said softly.

  "My Lord Dragon, surely I am not worthy to—"

  "Do it."

  Weiramon did so with an odd difficulty. He looked as if he was gritting his teeth, his eyes watering.

  "So it is you," Rand said. Min could feel his disappointment. Rand looked to the side, to where Anaiyella stood last in line. The pretty woman had pulled away from Rand, her head turned. "Both of you."

  "My Lord—" Weiramon began.

  "I want you to deliver a message for me," Rand said. "To the others of your . . . association. Tell them that they cannot hide among my allies any longer."

  Weiramon tried to bluster, but Rand took a step closer. Weiramon's eyes opened wide, and Anaiyella cried out, shading her face.

  "Tell them," Rand continued, voice soft but demanding, "that I am no longer blind."

  "Why . . ." Anaiyella said. "Why are you letting us go?"

  "Because today is a day of reunion," Rand said. "Not a day of death. Go."

  The two stumbled away, looking drained. The others in the courtyard watched with surprise and confusion. The Aiel, however, began to beat their spears against their shields. Anaiyella and Weiramon seemed to keep to the shadows of the courtyard as they ducked into the Stone.

  "Leeh," Rand said. "Take two others. Watch them."

  Three Maidens split from those watching over Rand, darting after the two former nobles. Min stepped up to Rand, taking his arm. "Rand? What was that? What did you see in them?"

  "The time for hiding is past, Min. The Shadow made its play for me and lost. It is war, not subterfuge, that turns the day now."

  "So they're Darkfriends?" Min asked, frowning.

  Rand turned to her, smiling. "They are no longer a threat. I—" He cut off suddenly, looking to the side. Min turned, and grew chill.

  Tarn al'Thor stood nearby. He had just walked out of a nearby entrance into the Stone, pausing on a low set of steps leading down to the courtyard. Rand's emotions grew apprehensive again, and Min realized what he'd been searching for earlier.

  Tarn looked at his son, falling still. His hair was gray and his face lined, yet he was solid in a way that few people were.

  Rand lifted his hand, and the crowd—Aes Sedai included—parted. Rand passed through them, Min following behind, crossing to the steps up the Stone. Rand climbed a few of those steps, hesitant. The courtyard fell silent; even the gulls stopped calling.

  Rand stopped on the steps, and Min could feel his reluctance, his hame, his terror. It seemed so strange. Rand—who had faced Forsaken without a tremor—was afraid of his father.

  Rand took the last few steps in two sudden strides and grabbed Tarn in an embrace. He stood one step down, which brought them near an equal height. In fact, in that posture, Tarn almost seemed a giant, and Rand but a child who was clinging to him.

  There, holding to his father, the Dragon Reborn began to weep.

  The gathered Aes Sedai, Tairens and Aiel watched solemnly. None shuffled or turned away. Rand squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm sorry, Father," he whispered. Min could barely hear. "I'm so sorry."

  "It's all right, son. It's all right."

  "I've done so much that is terrible."

  "Nobody walks a difficult path without stumbling now and again. It didn't break you when you fell. That's the important part."

  Rand nodded. They held each other for a time. Eventually, Rand pulled back, then gestured to Min, standing at the base of the steps.

  "Come, Father," Rand said. "There is someone I want to introduce to you."

  Tarn chuckled. "It's been three days, Rand. I've already met her."

  "Yes, but / didn't introduce you. I need to." He waved to Min, and she raised an eyebrow, folding her arms. He looked at her pleadingly, so she sighed and climbed up the steps.

  "Father," Rand said, resting his hand on Min's back. "This is Min Far-shaw. And she's very special to me."

  CHAPTER

  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'rbiod 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'rbiod 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.