The Gathering Storm twot-12

by Robert Jordan

  Within that moment, suddenly something amazing occurred to him. /// live again, then she might as well!

  That's why he fought. That's why he lived again, and that was the answer to Tarn's question. I fight because last time, I failed. I fight because I want to fix what I did wrong.

  I want to do it right this time.

  The Power within him reached a crescendo, and he turned it upon itself, drove it through the access key. The ter'angreal was connected to a much greater force, a massive sa'angreal to the south, built to stop the Dark One. Too powerful, some had said. Too powerful ever to use. Too frightening.

  Rand used its own power upon it, crushing the distant globe, shattering it as if in the grip of a giant's hands.

  The Choedan Kal exploded.

  The Power winked out.

  The tempest ended.

  And Rand opened his eyes for the first time in a very long while. He knew — somehow — that he would never again hear Lews Therin's voice in his head. For they were not two men, and never had been.

  He regarded the world beneath him. The clouds above had finally broken, if only just above him. The gloom dispersed, allowing him to see the sun hanging just above.

  Rand looked up at it. Then he smiled. Finally, he let out a deep-throated laugh, true and pure.

  It had been far too long.

  EPILOGUE

  Bathed in Light

  Egwene worked by the light of two bronze lamps. They were shaped like women holding their hands into the air, a burst of flame appearing in each set of palms. The calm yellow light reflected on the curves of their hands, arms and faces. Were they symbols of the White Tower and the Flame of Tar Valon? Or were they instead depictions of an Aes Sedai, weaving Fire? Perhaps they were simply relics of a previous Amyrlin's taste.

  They sat on either side of her desk. A proper desk, finally, with a proper chair to sit upon. She was inside the Amyrlin's study, purged of any and all references to Elaida. That left it bare, the walls empty, the wood paneling unadorned by picture or tapestry, the end tables empty of works of art. Even the bookshelves had been emptied, lest something of Elaida's offend Egwene.

  The moment Egwene had seen what the others had done, she had ordered all of Elaida's effects gathered and placed under secure lock, guarded by women Egwene trusted. Hidden among those effects would be clues to Elaida's plans. They might simply be hidden notes slipped between the pages of books, left for further review. Or they might be as obscure as connections between the types of books she'd been reading or the items she'd had in the desk drawers. But they didn't have Elaida herself to question, and there was no telling what schemes of hers would return to bite the White Tower at a later date. Egwene intended to look over those objects, then interview each and every Aes Sedai who had been in the Tower and determine what clues they hid.

  For now, she had her hands full. She shook her head, turning over the pages of Silviana's report. The woman was proving to be an effective Keeper indeed, far more skilled than Sheriam had ever been. The loyalist women respected Silviana, and the Red Ajah seemed to have accepted — at least in part — Egwene's offer of peace in choosing one of their own as her Keeper.

  Of course, Egwene also had two stiff letters of disapproval — one from Romanda and one from Lelaine — on the bottom of her stack. The two women had withdrawn their effusive support almost as quickly as they'd given it. Right now, they were arguing over what to do with the damam Egwene had captured during the White Tower raid, and neither one liked Egwene's plan to train them as Aes Sedai. Romanda and Lelaine would trouble her for years yet, it appeared.

  She set the report aside. It was late afternoon, and light peeked through the slits of the louvered shutters to her balcony. She didn't open them, preferring the quiet dimness. The solitude felt nice.

  For now, she didn't mind the room's sparse decorations. True, it reminded her just a little too much of the study of the Mistress of Novices, but no number of wall hangings would banish her memory of those days, not when Silviana herself was Egwene's Keeper. That was fine. Why would Egwene want to banish those days? They contained some of her most satisfying victories.

  Though she certainly didn't mind being able to sit without cringing.

  She smiled faintly, scanning the next of Silviana's reports. Then she frowned. Most of the Black Ajah in the Tower had escaped. This report, written in Silviana's careful, flowing script, told that they had managed to seize some of the Blacks in the hours following Egwene's raising, but only the weakest of the lot. The majority of them — some sixty Black sisters — had escaped. Including one Sitter, as Egwene had noticed before, whose name had not been on Verin's list. Evanellein's disappearance indicated strongly that she was Black.

  Egwene picked up another report, frowning to herself. It was a list of all the women in the White Tower, an extensive list several pages long, broken down by Ajah. Many names had a notation beside them. Black, escaped. Black, captured. Taken by the Seanchan.

  That last group was galling. Saerin — acting with foresight — had taken a census following the attack to determine exactly who had been captured.

  Nearly forty initiates — over two dozen of them full Aes Sedai — snatched in the night and carried off. It was like a story told to children at bedtime, warning of Fades or Halfmen who stole wicked children. Those women would be beaten, confined and turned into nothing more than tools.

  Egwene had to steel herself from reaching up to feel her neck, where the collar had held her. She wasn't focusing on that right now, burn it all!

  Each of the Black Ajah members on Verin's list had been seen healthy and alive following the Seanchan attack. But most had escaped before Egwene arrived at the Tower to take her seat. Velina was gone. So were Chai and Birlen. And Alviarin; the Black hunters hadn't managed to get to her in time.

  What had tipped them off? Unfortunately, it had probably something to do with Egwene seizing the Black Ajah in the rebel camp. She had worried about overplaying her hand. But what else should she have done? Her only hope had been to seize every Black in the camp and hope that word didn't spread to the White Tower.

  But it had. She'd captured the ones who remained, and had them executed. Then she'd resworn every sister in the Tower on the Oath Rod. They hadn't liked it, of course. But the knowledge that all of the women in the rebel camp had done it had swayed them. If it hadn't, the news that Egwene had ordered the execution of her own Keeper probably did. It had certainly been a relief when Silviana had offered to swear first, in front of the entire Hall, to prove herself. Egwene had followed by reswearing herself, then told the Hall truthfully that she had watched each and every woman in the camp prove that she wasn't a Darkfriend. They'd captured three more Black sisters who hadn't been on Verin's list. Only three. What accuracy! Verin had proven herself once again.

  Egwene set aside the report. Knowledge of those who had escaped still chewed at her. She had known the names of sixty Darkfriends, and they had escaped her grasp. That number reached to eighty if she included those who had escaped from the rebel camp.

  / will find you, Alviarin, Egwene thought, tapping the sheet with her finger. / will find you all. You were a rot within the Tower itself. The worst kind of rot. I will not let you spread it.

  She set the sheet aside and picked up another. This one bore only a few names. A list of all the women in the Tower who had not been on Verin's list and who had either been taken by the Seanchan, or had disappeared following the attack.

  Verin had believed that one of the Forsaken, Mesaana, was hiding in the Tower. Sheriam's confession corroborated this. Egwene's task of reswearing every Aes Sedai on the Rod had revealed no Darkfriends of great power. Hopefully, the reswearing itself would ease the tension between the Ajahs. They could stop worrying if there were Blacks in their midst. Of course, it could very well weaken the Aes Sedai by giving proof that the Black Ajah had indeed existed in the first place.

  Either way, Egwene had a problem. She looked over the sheet before
her. Each woman in the White Tower had proven that she was not a Darkfriend. Each woman on Verin's list was accounted for. She'd been executed, she'd been captured, she'd fled the White Tower the day of Egwene's ascension, she'd been taken by the Seanchan or she was out of the Tower at the moment — and had been for some time. The sisters had instructions to watch for those.

  Perhaps they'd been lucky, and the Forsaken was one of those women who had been taken by the Seanchan. But Egwene didn't believe in that kind of luck. One of the Forsaken would not be captured so easily. She'd probably known about the attack in the first place.

  That left the three names on the list in front of Egwene. Nalasia Mer-han, a Brown; Teramina, a Green; and Jamilila Norsish, a Red. All were very weak in the Power. And the women on this list had all been in the Tower for years. It seemed implausible that Mesaana had been impersonating one of them and doing it so well that her subterfuge hadn't been noticed.

  Egwene had a feeling. A premonition, perhaps. At the very least, a fear. These three names were the only ones who could have been the Forsaken. But none of them fit, not at all. That gave her a chill. Was Mesaana still hiding in the Tower?

  If so, she somehow knew how to defeat the Oath Rod.

  A soft knock came at her door. It cracked a moment later. "Mother?" Silviana asked.

  Egwene looked up, raising her eyebrows.

  "I thought you might want to see this," Silviana said, entering, her hair back in its tidy black bun, the red Keeper's stole around her shoulders.

  "What is it?"

  "You should come and see."

  Curious, Egwene rose. There was no tension to Silviana's voice, so it couldn't be anything too dire. The two of them left the study behind, walking around the outside of the building to the Hall of the Tower. When they reached it, Egwene raised an eyebrow. Silviana gestured for her to enter.

  The Hall wasn't in session, and the chairs sat empty. A scattering of mason's tools lay on white sheets in the corner, and a group of workers in thick brown overalls and white shirts — sleeves rolled up — were collected in front of the gap in the wall that the Seanchan had left. Egwene had ordered a rose window fitted into the opening instead of having it sealed up completely, a remembrance for the time the White Tower had been attacked. A warning to prevent its happening again. Before the window could be installed, however, stonemasons were busy shoring up the sides and creating the fitting.

  Egwene and Silviana glided into the room, walking down the short ramp to the floor, which had again been properly painted with the colors of all seven Ajahs. The stonemasons saw them, then backed away respectfully, one man pulling off his cap and clutching it to his chest. Reaching the edge of the room, just before the opening, Egwene finally saw what Silviana had brought her to see.

  After all this time, the clouds had finally broken. They had pulled back in a ring around Dragonmount. The sun shone down, radiant, lighting the distant, snowcapped crag. The broken maw and uppermost peak of the blasted mountainside were bathed in light. It was the first time Egwene could remember seeing direct sunlight in weeks. Perhaps longer.

  "Some novices noticed it first, Mother," Silviana said, stepping up beside her. "And news spread quickly. Who would have thought that a little ring of sunlight would cause such a stir? It's such a simple thing, really. Nothing we haven't seen before. But. . . ."

  There was something beautiful about it. The light streaming down in a column, strong and pure. Distant, yet striking. It was like something forgotten, but somehow still familiar, shining forth from a distant memory to bring warmth again.

  "What does it mean?" Silviana asked.

  "I don't know," Egwene said. "But I welcome the sight of it." She hesitated. "That opening in the clouds is too even to be natural. Mark this day on the calendars, Silviana. Something has happened. Perhaps, eventually, we shall know the truth of it."

  "Yes, Mother," Silviana said, looking out through the gap again.

  Egwene stood with her, rather than returning to her study immediately. It felt relaxing to stare out at that distant light, so welcoming and noble. "Storms will soon come," it seemed to say. "But for now, I am here."

  I am here.

  The Gathering Storm

  At the end of time,

  when the many become one,

  the last storm shall gather its angry winds

  to destroy a land already dying.

  And at its center, the blind man shall stand

  upon his own grave.

  There he shall see again,

  and weep for what has been wrought.

  -from The Prophecies of the Dragon, Essanik Cycle. Malhavish's Official Translation, Imperial Record House of Seandar, Fourth Circle of Elevation.

  The End of the Twelfth Book of

  The Wheel of Time

  GLOSSARY

  A Note on Dates in This Glossary. The Toman Calendar (devised by Toma dur Ahmid) was adopted approximately two centuries after the death of the last male Aes Sedai, recording years After the Breaking of the World (AB). So many records were destroyed in the Trolloc Wars that at their end there was argument about the exact year under the old system. A new calendar, proposed by Tiam of Gazar, celebrated freedom from the Trolloc threat and recorded each year as a Free Year (FY). The Gazaran Calendar gained wide acceptance within twenty years after the Wars' end. Artur Hawkwing attempted to establish a new calendar based on the founding of his empire (FF, From the Founding), but only historians now refer to it. After the death and destruction of the War of the Hundred Years, a third calendar was devised by Uren din Jubai Soaring Gull, a scholar of the Sea Folk, and promulgated by the Panarch Farede of Tarabon. The Farede Calendar, dating from the arbitrarily decided end of the War of the Hundred Years and recording years of the New Era (NE), is currently in use.

  Aelfinn: A race of beings, largely human in appearance but with snake-like characteristics, who will give true answers to three questions. Whatever the question, their answers are always correct, if frequently given in forms that are not clear, but questions concerning the Shadow can be extremely dangerous. Their true location is unknown, but they can be visited by passing through a ter'angreal, once a possession of Mayene but in recent years held in the Stone of Tear. There are reports that they can also be reached by entering the Tower of Ghenjei. They speak the Old Tongue, mention treaties and agreements and ask if those entering carry iron, instruments of music or devices that can make fire. See also Eelfinn.

  Arad Doman: A nation on the Aryth Ocean, currently racked by civil war and by wars against those who have declared for the Dragon Reborn. Its capital is Bandar Eban, where many of its people have come for refuge. Food is scarce. In Arad Doman, those who are descended from the nobility at the time of the founding of the nation, as opposed to those raised later, are known as the bloodborn. The ruler (king or queen) is elected by a council of the heads of merchant guilds (the Council of Merchants), who are almost always women. He or she must be from the noble class, not the merchant, and is elected for life. Legally the king or queen has absolute authority, except that he or she can be deposed by a three-quarter vote of the Council. The current ruler is King Alsalam Saeed Almadar, Lord of Almadar, High Seat of House Almadar. His present whereabouts are much shrouded in mystery.

  Area, units of: (1) Land: 1 ribbon = 20 paces X 10 paces (200 square paces); 1 cord = 20 paces X 50 paces (1000 square paces); 1 hide = 100 paces X 100 paces (10,000 square paces); 1 rope = 100 paces X 1000 paces (100,000 square paces); 1 march = 1000 paces X 1000 paces (lA square mile). (2) Cloth: 1 pace = 1 pace plus 1 hand X 1 pace plus 1 hand.

  Asha'man: (1) In the Old Tongue, "Guardian" or "Guardians," but always a guardian of justice and truth. (2) The name given, both collectively and as a rank, to the men who have come to the Black Tower, near Caemlyn in Andor, in order to learn to channel. Their training largely concentrates on the ways in which the One Power can be used as a weapon, and in another departure from the usages of the White Tower, once they learn to seize saidin, th
e male half of the Power, they are required to perform all chores and labors with the Power. When newly enrolled, a man is termed a Soldier; he wears a plain black coat with a high collar, in the Andoran fashion. Being raised to Dedicated brings the right to wear a silver pin, called the Sword, on the collar of his coat. Promotion to Asha'man brings the right to wear a Dragon pin, in gold and red enamel, on the collar opposite the Sword. Although many women, including wives, flee when they learn that their men actually can channel, a fair number of men at the Black Tower are married, and they use a version of the Warder bond to create a link with their wives. This same bond, altered to compel obedience, has recently been used to bond captured Aes Sedai as well. Some Asha'man have been bonded by Aes Sedai, although the traditional Warder bond is used. The Asha'man are led by Mazrim Taim, who has styled himself the M'Hael, Old Tongue for "leader."

  Band of the Red Hand: see Shen an Calbar.

  Blood, the: Term used by the Seanchan to designate the nobility. There are four degrees of nobility, two of the High Blood and two of the low, or lesser, Blood. The High Blood let their fingernails grow to a length of one inch and shave the sides of their heads, leaving a crest down the center, narrower for men than for women. The length of this crest varies according to fashion. The low Blood also grow their fingernails long, but they shave the sides and back of the head, leaving what appears to be a bowl of hair, with a wide tail at the back allowed to grow longer, often to the shoulder for men or to the waist for women. Those of the highest level of the High Blood are called High Lady or High Lord and lacquer the first two fingernails on each hand. Those of the next level of the High Blood are called simply Lord or Lady and lacquer only the nails of the forefingers. Those of the low Blood also are called simply Lady or Lord, but those of the higher rank lacquer the nails of the last two fingers on each hand, while those on the lowest level lacquer only the nails of the little fingers. The Empress and immediate members of the Imperial family shave their heads entirely and lacquer all of their fingernails One can be raised to the Blood as well as born to it, and this is frequently a reward for outstanding accomplishment or service to the Empire.