The Gathering Storm

by Robert Jordan

  The room smelled strongly of basil, thyme and a dozen other herbs. Despite the problems in the Tower, despite the rotted plants, she was buoyed by the scent of life in the room—the freshly turned earth and growing plants. And Nynaeve complained that the sisters in the White Tower ignored the usefulness of herbs! If only she could spend some time with sturdy, square-faced Suana.

  Egwene found the woman remarkably pleasant. Suana ran her through a series of weaves, many of them related to Healing, where Egwene had never particularly shone. Still, her skill must have impressed the Sitter, for midway through the lesson—Egwene seated on a cushioned stool between two potted trees, Suana sitting more properly in a stiff leather-covered chair—the tone of the conversation changed.

  “We should very much like to have you in the Yellow, I think,” the woman said.

  Egwene started. “I’ve never shown particular skill for Healing.”

  “Being of the Yellow isn’t about skill, child,” Suana said. “It’s about passion. If you love to make things well, to fix that which is broken, there would be a purpose for you here.”

  “My thanks,” Egwene said. “But the Amyrlin has no Ajah.”

  “Yes, but she’s raised from one. Consider it, Egwene. I think you would find a good home here.”

  It was a shocking conversation. Suana obviously didn’t consider Egwene the Amyrlin, but the mere fact that she was recruiting Egwene to her Ajah said something. It meant she accepted Egwene’s legitimacy, at least to some degree, as a sister.

  “Suana,” Egwene said, testing how far she could push that sense of legitimacy, “have the Sitters spoken of what to do about the tensions between the Ajahs?”

  “I don’t see what can be done,” Suana replied, glancing toward her overgrown balcony. “If the other Ajahs have decided to see the Yellow as their enemy, then I cannot compel them to be less foolish.”

  They likely say the same about you, Egwene thought, but said, “Someone must make the first steps. The shell of distrust is growing so thick that soon it will be hard to crack. Perhaps if some of the Sitters of different Ajahs began taking meals together, or were seen traveling the hallways in one another’s company, it would prove instructive for the rest of the Tower.”

  “Perhaps . . .” Suana said.

  “They aren’t your enemies, Suana,” Egwene said, letting her voice grow more firm.

  The woman frowned at Egwene, as if realizing suddenly who she was taking advice from. “Well, then, I think it’s best that you ran along. I’m certain there is a great deal for you to do today.”

  Egwene let herself out, carefully avoiding drooping branches and clusters of pots. Once she left the Yellow sector of the Tower and collected her Red Ajah attendants, she realized something. She’d gone through all three meetings without being assigned a single punishment. She wasn’t certain what to think of that. She’d even called two of them by name directly to their faces!

  They were coming to accept her. Unfortunately, that was only a small part of the battle. The larger part was making certain the White Tower survived the strains Elaida was placing upon it.

  Meidani’s quarters were surprisingly comfortable and homey. Egwene had always viewed the Grays as similar to the Whites, lacking passion, perfect diplomats who didn’t have time for personal emotions or frivolities.

  These rooms, however, hinted at a woman who loved to travel. Maps hung within delicate frames, centered on the walls like prized pieces of art. A pair of Aiel spears hung on either side of one map; another was a map of the Sea Folk islands. While many might have opted for the porcelain keepsakes that were so commonly associated with the Sea Folk, Meidani had a small collection of earrings and painted shells, carefully framed and displayed, along with a small plaque beneath listing dates of collection.

  The sitting room was like a museum dedicated to one person’s journeys. An Altaran marriage knife, set with four twinkling rubies, hung beside a small Cairhienin banner and a Shienaran sword. Each had a small plaque explaining its significance. The marriage knife, for instance, had been presented to Meidani for her help in settling a dispute between two houses over the death of a particularly important landowner. His wife had given her the knife as a token of thanks.

  Who would have thought that the cowering woman of the dinner a few weeks back would have such a proud collection? The rug itself was labeled, the gift of a trader who had purchased it on the closed docks of Shara, then bestowed it on Meidani in thanks for Healing his daughter. It was of strange design, woven from what seemed to be tiny, dyed reeds, with tufts of an exotic gray fur trimming the edges. The pattern depicted exotic creatures with long necks.

  Meidani herself sat on a curious chair made from woven wicker boughs, crafted to look like a growing thicket of branches that just happened to take the shape of a chair. It would have been horribly out of place in any other room in the Tower, but it fit within these quarters, where each item was different, none of them related yet somehow all connected with the common theme of gifts received during travels.

  The Gray’s appearance was surprisingly different from what it had been during the dinner with Elaida. Instead of the low-cut colorful dress, she wore a high-necked gown of plain white, long and tapering, cut as if to deemphasize her bosom. Her deep golden hair was up in a bun, and she didn’t wear a single glimmer of jewelry. Was the contrast intentional?

  “You took your time summoning me,” Egwene said.

  “I didn’t want to appear suspicious before the Amyrlin,” Meidani said as Egwene crossed the exotic Shara rug. “Besides, I’m still not certain how I regard you.”

  “I don’t care how you regard me,” Egwene said evenly, seating herself on an oversized oak chair, bearing a plaque that identified it as a gift from a moneylender in Tear. “An Amyrlin needs not the regard of those who follow her, so long as she is obeyed.”

  “You’ve been captured and overthrown.”

  Egwene raised an eyebrow, meeting Meidani’s gaze. “Captured, true.”

  “The Hall among the rebels will have chosen a new Amyrlin by now.”

  “I happen to know that they have not.”

  Meidani hesitated. Revealing the existence of contact with the rebel Aes Sedai was a gamble, but if she couldn’t secure the loyalty of Meidani and the spies, then she was on shaky ground indeed. Egwene had assumed that it would be easy to gain the woman’s support, considering how frightened Meidani had been at supper. But it seemed that the woman was not as easily cowed as it had appeared.

  “Well,” Meidani said. “Even if that is true, you must know that they picked you to be a figurehead. A puppet to be manipulated.”

  Egwene held the woman’s gaze.

  “You have no real authority,” Meidani said, voice wavering slightly.

  Egwene did not look away. Meidani studied her, brow wrinkling slowly, step by step, furrows appearing across her smooth, ageless Aes Sedai face. She searched Egwene’s eyes, like a mason searching a piece of stone for flaws before setting it in place. What she found seemed to confuse her further.

  “Now,” Egwene said, as if she had not just been questioned, “you will tell me precisely why you have not fled the Tower. While I do believe that your spying on Elaida is valuable, you must know how much danger you are in now that Elaida is aware of your true allegiance. Why not leave?”

  “I . . . cannot say,” Meidani said, glancing away.

  “I’m commanding you as your Amyrlin.”

  “I still cannot say.” Meidani looked down at the floor, as if ashamed.

  Curious, Egwene thought, hiding her frustration. “It is obvious that you do not understand the gravity of our situation. Either you accept my authority, or you accept that of Elaida. There is no middle ground, Meidani. And I promise you this: If Elaida retains the Amyrlin Seat, you will find her treatment of those she sees as traitors to be quite unpleasant.”

  Meidani continued to look down. Despite her initial resistance, it seemed that she had little strength of will rema
ining.

  “I see.” Egwene rose to her feet. “You’ve betrayed us, haven’t you? Did you go to Elaida’s side before you were exposed or after Beonin’s confession?”

  Meidani looked up immediately. “What? No! I never betrayed our cause!” She seemed sickened, face pale, mouth a thin line. “How could you think that I’d support that horrid woman? I hate what she has done to the Tower.”

  Well, that was straightforward enough; little room to wiggle around the Three Oaths in those statements. Either Meidani was true or she was Black—though Egwene had difficulty believing that a Black sister would endanger herself by telling a lie that could be exposed with such relative ease.

  “Why not run, then?” Egwene asked. “Why stay?”

  Meidani shook her head. “I cannot say.”

  Egwene took a deep breath. Something about the entire conversation irritated her. “Will you at least tell me why you take dinner with Elaida so often? Surely it’s not because you enjoy such treatment.”

  Meidani blushed. “Elaida and I were pillow-friends during our days as novices. The others decided that if I were to renew the relationship, perhaps it would lead to my gaining valuable information.”

  Egwene folded her arms beneath her breasts. “It seems reckless to assume she would trust you. However, Elaida’s thirst for power is guiding her to make reckless moves of her own, so perhaps the plan was not completely ill advised. Regardless, she’ll never draw you into her confidence now that she knows of your true allegiances.”

  “I know. But it was decided that I shouldn’t let on that I’m aware of her knowledge. If I were to back away now, it would let on that we’ve been warned—and that is one of the precious few edges we now hold.”

  Precious few enough that she should have just run from the Tower. There was nothing to be gained by staying. Why, then? Something was holding the woman back, it seemed. Something strong. A promise?

  “Meidani,” Egwene said, “I need to know what it is that you aren’t telling me.”

  She shook her head; she almost looked afraid. Light! Egwene thought. I won’t do to her what Elaida does those evenings at supper.

  Egwene sat back down. “Straighten your back, Meidani. You’re not some simpering novice. You’re Aes Sedai. Start acting like one.”

  The woman looked up, eyes flashing at the taunt. Egwene nodded approvingly. “We will mend the damage that Elaida has done, and I will sit in my rightful place as Amyrlin. But we have work to do.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Yes,” Egwene said. “You can’t tell me what is wrong. I suspect that the Three Oaths are involved, though Light knows how. We can work around the problem. You can’t tell me why you’ve remained in the Tower. But can you show me?”

  Meidani cocked her head. “I’m not sure. I could take you to—” She cut off abruptly. Yes, one of the Oaths was forcibly preventing her from continuing. “I might be able to show you,” Meidani finished lamely. “I’m not certain.”

  “Then let’s find out. How dangerous will it be if those Red handlers of mine follow us?”

  Meidani paled. “Dangerous.”

  “Then we’ll have to leave them behind,” Egwene said, absently tapping the armrest of her oversized oak chair with one nail as she thought. “We could leave the Gray section of the Tower by another way, but if we are seen, it could raise difficult questions.”

  “There have been a lot of Reds lurking near the entrances and exits of our quarters,” Meidani said. “I suspect all of the Ajahs are watching one another like that. It will be very difficult to get away without being noticed. They wouldn’t follow me alone, but if they see you . . .”

  Spies, watching the other Ajah quarters? Light! Had it gotten so bad? That was like scouts being sent to watch enemy camps. She couldn’t risk being seen leaving with Meidani, but to go alone would draw attention, too—the Reds knew Egwene was supposed to be guarded.

  That left a problem, one Egwene could think of only one way to solve. She eyed Meidani. How far to trust her? “You promise that you do not support Elaida, and that you accept my leadership?”

  The woman hesitated, then nodded. “I do.”

  “If I show you something, do you vow not to reveal it to anyone else without my permission first?”

  She frowned. “Yes.”

  Egwene made her decision. Taking a deep breath, she embraced the Source. “Watch closely,” she said, weaving threads of Spirit. Dampened by forkroot, she wasn’t strong enough to open a gateway, but she could still show Meidani the weaves.

  “What is that?” Meidani asked.

  “It’s called a gateway,” Egwene said. “Used for Traveling.”

  “Traveling is impossible!” Meidani said immediately. “The ability has been lost for . . .” She trailed off, eyes opening more widely.

  Egwene let the weave dissipate. Immediately, Meidani embraced the Source, looking determined.

  “Think of the place you want to go,” Egwene said. “You have to know the place you’re leaving behind very well to make this work. I assume that you are familiar enough with your own quarters. Pick a destination where nobody is likely to be; gateways can be dangerous if they open in the wrong location.”

  Meidani nodded, golden bun bobbing as she concentrated. She did an admirable job of imitating Egwene’s weave, and a gateway opened directly between the two of them, white line splitting the air and bending upon itself. The hole was on Meidani’s side; Egwene saw only a shimmering patch, like a draft of heat warping the air. She rounded the gateway, looking through the hole at a darkened stone hallway beyond. The tiles on the floor were of a subdued white and brown, and there were no windows within sight. In the depths of the Tower, Egwene guessed.

  “Quickly,” Egwene said. “If I don’t return from your quarters after about an hour, my Red minders might begin to wonder what is taking so long. It’s already suspicious to have you, of all people, send for me. We can only hope that Elaida isn’t careful enough to wonder at the coincidence.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Meidani said, rushing over and taking a bronze lamp from her table, the flame flickering at the spout. Then she hesitated.

  “What?” Egwene asked.

  “I’m just surprised.”

  Egwene almost asked what was so surprising, but then she saw it in Meidani’s eyes. Meidani was surprised at how quickly she’d found herself obeying. She was surprised by how natural it was to think of Egwene as Amyrlin. This woman hadn’t been won over completely, not yet, but she was close.

  “Quickly,” Egwene said.

  Meidani nodded, stepping through the gateway, and Egwene followed. Though the floor beyond was free of dust, the corridor was thick with the musty scent of uncirculated air. The walls were bare of the ornamentations one saw occasionally in the upper corridors, and the only sound was that of a few distant rats scratching. Rats. In the White Tower. Once, that would have been impossible. The failure of the wards was just one more impossibility atop an ever-growing stack.

  This was not an area often given attention by the Tower servants. That was probably why Meidani had chosen it to open the gateway. That was well and good, but she was probably erring on the side of safety. This deep within the Tower, it would take precious minutes to return to the main hallways and find whatever it was Meidani wished to show her. And that would present its own problems. What would happen if other sisters took note of Egwene moving through the corridors without her normal complement of Red Ajah guards?

  Before Egwene could voice this concern, Meidani began to walk away. Not up the hallway toward the stairwells, but down it, moving deeper. Egwene frowned, but followed.

  “I’m not certain if I’ll be allowed to show you,” Meidani said softly, her skirts swishing, the sound not unlike that of the faint scrambling of the distant rats. “I must warn you, however, that you may be surprised at what you are stepping into. It could be dangerous.”

  Did Meidani mean physical danger or political danger? It seemed that Egwene was
in about as much of the latter as was possible. Still, she nodded and accepted the warning with solemnity. “I understand. But if something dangerous is happening in the Tower, I must know of it. It is not only my right, but my duty.”

  Meidani said no more. She led Egwene through the twisting passage, muttering that she’d have liked to have been able to bring her Warder. He was apparently out in the city on some errand. The hall spiraled not unlike the undulating coils of the Great Serpent itself. Just when Egwene was growing impatient, Meidani stopped beside a closed door. It looked no different from the dozens of other near-forgotten storage rooms that budded off the main corridor. Meidani raised a hesitant hand, then knocked sharply.

  The door opened immediately, revealing a keen-eyed Warder with ruddy hair and a square jaw. He eyed Meidani, then turned to Egwene, his expression growing darker. His arm flinched, as if he’d just barely stopped himself from reaching for the sword at his side.

  “That will be Meidani,” a woman’s voice said from inside the room, “come to report on her meeting with the girl. Adsalan?”

  The Warder stepped aside, revealing a small chamber set with boxes for chairs. It held four women, all Aes Sedai. And, shockingly, each was of a different Ajah! Egwene hadn’t seen women of four different Ajahs so much as walk together in the hallways, let alone hold conference together. Not a single one of them was Red, and each of the four was a Sitter.

  Seaine was the stately woman in white robes and silver trim. A Sitter from the White Ajah, she had thick black hair and eyebrows, and watery blue eyes that regarded Egwene with an even expression. Beside her was Doesine, a Sitter of the Yellow Ajah. She was slender and tall for a Cairhienin; her rich rose-colored dress was embroidered with gold. Her hair was adorned with sapphires, matched by the stone at her forehead.

  Yukiri was the Gray sister sitting beside Doesine. Yukiri was one of the shortest women that Egwene had ever met, but she had a way of regarding others that always made her seem in control, even when accompanied by very tall Aes Sedai. The last woman was Saerin, an Altaran Sitter for the Brown. Like many Browns, she wore unornamented dresses, this one a nondescript tan. Her olive skin was marred by a scar on her left cheek. Egwene knew very little about her. Of all the sisters in the room, she seemed the least shocked to see Egwene.