New Spring: The Novel (wheel of time)

by Robert Jordan

  "I love you, Father," she said calmly. Light, how could she stay calm? But she must. "Please tell Mother that I love her with all my heart."

  Brushing past him, she limped toward the second star. She thought he called after her, that he ran after and plucked at her sleeve, but her mind was a haze from the effort of keeping a smooth face and a steady tread. A stumble, really, but she neither hung back nor hurried. She stepped between the fluted columns, beneath the star, and found herself staggering into a round white chamber, the reflected light of stand-lamps dazzling her eyes. Memory crashed back into her, nearly buckling her knees. Unable to think as that torrent flooded in on her, she managed three more steps before stumbling to a halt. She remembered everything, the making of every weave, where every injury had been received. All of her missteps, her frantic efforts to hold on to some outward semblance of serenity.

  "It is done," Merean intoned, clapping her hands together with a loud crack. "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." Again she clapped her hands loudly, the blue fringe of her shawl swinging. "Moiraine Damodred, you will spend tonight 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." For a third time she clapped her hands together.

  Gathering her skirts, the Mistress of Novices started for the doors, but the rest of the sisters came quickly to Moiraine. All except Elaida, she realized. Shawl wrapped around her as though she felt the coolness, Elaida was leaving with Merean.

  "Will you accept Healing, child?" Anaiya asked. A hand taller than Moiraine, her plain features nearly overwhelmed agelessness and made her look more a farmer than an Aes Sedai despite her finely cut blue woolens with their intricate embroidery on the sleeves. "I don't know why I ask. You're not in as bad a state as some I've seen, but bad enough."

  "I passed?" she said in amazement.

  "If blushes counted as breaking calm, no one would ever reach the shawl," Anaiya replied, adjusting her own with a laugh.

  Light, they had seen everything! Of course, they would have to, but she remembered a stunningly handsome man who had snatched her up and begun kissing her quite thoroughly just as she started the forty-third weave, and her face reddened. They had seen that!

  "You really should Heal the child before she falls over, Anaiya," Verin said. Short and dreamy-eyed, she was quite plump in her fine russet wool and brown-fringed shawl. Moiraine liked Verin, yet she felt a chill at the sight of her clothing in the Brown sister's hands.

  "I suppose I should at that," Anaiya said, and clasping Moiraine's head between her hands, she channeled.

  These injuries were far worse than the welts and bruises Elaida had given, and this time Moiraine felt as though she were caked in ice rather than dunked in cold water. When it passed, though, all of the cuts and gouges and gashes were gone. The weariness remained, seeming even heavier than before. And she was starving. How long had she been down here? Her carefully learned sense of time seemed utterly scrambled.

  One touch at her pouch told her the book was still there, but she could do no more in front of the sisters. Besides, she very much wanted to be clothed once more. But there was a question she wanted answered. Her tests had not been simply a matter of chance, completely a product of the ter'angreal. The continual assaults on her modesty left no doubts. "The last test was very cruel," she said, pausing with her dress ready to lift over her head. Pausing to watch their faces.

  "It is not to be spoken of, however cruel," Anaiya said firmly. "Not ever, to anyone."

  But Yuan, a slim Yellow, half glanced toward the door, displeasure in her gray eyes. So. Merean had been no part of the test. Elaida had tried to make her fail, and harder than anyone else, or the Arafellin sister would not have disapproved. So.

  The other three sisters went their own way, but Anaiya and Verin escorted her back above ground, using a different route than she had come down by. When they left her, she went to the room where she and Siuan had spent so many days copying names, and found two clerks doing the work, harassed-looking women who were none too pleased to be interrupted with questions about an Accepted of whom they knew nothing. Could it be? Oh, Light, could it?

  She hurried to the Accepted's quarters-and was three times called down for it by sisters; she was still only Accepted, until tomorrow-she all but ran, and found Siuan's room and her own both empty. Some of the name-taking excursions were ending earlier, now, and it was well past midday, so she searched through the other rooms until she found Sheriam and Myrelle sitting before the fire in Myrelle's room, where the small rug had a ragged red fringe and the washbasin and pitcher were blue.

  "Merean came for Siuan a little while ago," Myrelle said excitedly. "For her test."

  "Did you ? Did you pass?" Sheriam asked.

  "Yes," she replied, and felt a touch of sadness at the sudden withdrawal in their faces. They even stood, hands going to skirts, almost making to curtsy. A gulf had opened between them. She was still Accepted, until tomorrow, but friendship was at an end, until they also gained the shawl. They did not ask her to leave, yet neither did they ask her to stay, and they seemed relieved when she said she wanted to go to her room to wait alone for Siuan's return.

  Once in her room, she examined the book in her belt pouch, but nothing indicated that it had been touched, no pages creased by someone reading carelessly. Which did not mean no one had read. But then, no one would have known what they were looking at unless they knew what Moiraine and Siuan did. And Tamra's searchers. She offered a silent prayer of thanks that none of them had been among the sisters testing her. So far as she knew.

  A serving woman, or perhaps a novice, had laid a fire on the hearth and placed a tray on her small table, and removing the crisp white cloth that covered it revealed a larger meal than she thought she had ever eaten in her life, piled slices of roasted beef, turnips with a cream sauce, broad beans with crumbly white goat cheese, cabbage with pine nuts. There was a round loaf of crusty brown bread, and a huge pot of tea. The tray must only just have been left, because everything was still warm. The Tower had a way of timing things to a nicety.

  Much too much food, yet she ate every shred, even the bread. The whole loaf. Her whole body yearned for sleep, but that would never do. If Siuan failed, and survived failing-Light, let her live, at least-she would be brought back only long enough to gather her possessions and say her goodbyes. Moiraine refused to take the risk. So she curled up on her bed, but with a small leather-bound book. Hearts of Flame might be unsuitable for a novice, but it was one of her favorites. And Siuan's. Now, she stared at the first page for minutes before realizing she had not read a word. She got up to pace awhile before taking up the book again, yawning, but she still could not manage to hold a sentence. Siuan would come back. She would not be put out of the Tower. But there were so many ways to misstep, so many ways to fail. No! Siuan would pass. She had to. It would be unfair for Moiraine to reach the shawl and not Siuan. She knew her friend would be a better Aes Sedai than she could ever manage.

  Throughout the afternoon she heard the sounds of other Accepted returning, some laughing, others complaining, all loudly. The noise always turned to stillness very quickly, though, as word spread that she had been tested and had passed, that she was in her room. Tomorrow she would be raised Aes Sedai, yet they behaved as though she already was, moving in a hush so as not to disturb her. The hour for supper came and passed. She actually thought she could eat a little something in spite of her huge, and late, dinner, but she did not go to the dining hall. For one thing, she doubted she could bear the stares of the others or, worse, their downcast gazes. For another, Siuan might return while she was gone.

  She was on her bed, yawning and making yet another attempt at reading, when Siuan walked in, her expression unreadable.

  "Did you ?" Moiraine began, and could not finish.

  "It was as easy as falling off a boat," Siuan answered. "Into a school
of silverpike. I almost swallowed my heart when I remembered this " she slapped her belt pouch, where she also carried her book of names, "but after that, it went well." Her whole face suddenly turned bright red. She managed a smile through it. "We'll be raised together, Moiraine."

  Moiraine leaped to her feet, and laughing, they danced hand in hand for joy. She ached to ask what had happened in Siuan's test. That furious blush-from Siuan! — begged intriguing questions, but To be shared in silence, and only then with the women who had shared it with you. How long since they two had failed to share everything? Even here, the shawl brought separations.

  "You must be starved," Moiraine said, stopping the dance. She was so tired, she had begun to stagger, and Siuan was not much steadier. "And there must be a tray waiting in your room." She indicated the one on her table. It might have been brought up to her on this special occasion, but she was expected to carry the dirty dishes down herself. And feel lucky if she did not have to wash them, for waiting so long.

  "I could eat an oar, but there's better than food in my room." Siuan grinned suddenly. "I got six mice from one of the grooms this morning."

  "We are practically sisters," Moiraine protested. "We cannot put mice in someone's bed. Anyway, beyond improper, it would not be fair. Nearly everyone has been out for most of the day, and they must be as tired as you are."

  "Practically sisters isn't the same as being, Moiraine. Think. It's our last chance. It really won't be proper once we have the shawl." Siuan's grin faded to grimness. "And Elaida hasn't been out of the Tower that I know. Mice are a small repayment for those beatings, Moiraine. We owe her. We owe her!"

  Moiraine drew breath. Without Elaida, she might never have practiced trying to weave faster, and without that, she might well have failed. But she suspected her father had not been Elaida's only special addition to her test. Too often, her weaknesses had been laid bare by someone who knew them particularly well. The woman had tried to make her fail.

  "Only after you have eaten," she said.

  CHAPTER 11

  Just Before Dawn

  By the light of a single lamp and the low fire on her narrow hearth, Moiraine dressed herself carefully, making an effort to stifle her yawns. It needed effort. A night of contemplation meant a night of no sleep; her eyes were grainy, her limbs leaden. Well, sleep would have been beyond her in any case, simply because of what lay ahead this morning. Oh, why had she not argued Siuan out of that mad prank? It was a question she had asked herself often during the night, and as foolish this time as the first. She rarely won arguments with Siuan.

  If only Siuan were with her now. Contemplating the burdens and duties of an Aes Sedai turned inevitably to the task Moiraine meant to take up, and the scale of that search had loomed larger and larger as the night went on, until it reared before her like unscalable Dragonmount itself. Company would have helped. But the ritual was explicit. Each must be alone when they came for her. Missteps now brought no penalties beyond embarrassment, and likely a reputation as flighty dunces that they might never shake off-of course, they might already have achieved the reputation-yet it had seemed best to be beyond reproach as far as they could.

  Once dressed, she laid out her few belongings on the bed, but except for a change of shift and stockings, she left the remaining garments in the wardrobe. They would be washed and put away against a novice gaining the ring who could wear them. None among those currently in white would be able to wear those dresses, without huge alterations, anyway, but no matter; the White Tower was patient. The little book was snug in her belt pouch, the safest place she could think of. She had just put her small rosewood box on the bed, containing the few pieces of jewelry she had brought with her to the Tower, when a knock came at the door, three firm raps. She jumped at the noise, and her heart fluttered. Suddenly, she was almost as nervous as before the test. It was very hard not to run to answer. Instead, she checked her hair carefully in the mirror on the washstand, used her hairbrush to tame a few strands that really did not need taming, laid the brush on the bed and only then went to the door.

  Seven sisters awaited her in the night, one from each Ajah, all wearing their vine-covered shawls over silks or fine woolens, their faces ageless masks. So the ritual required. Elaida was the Red, but Moiraine managed to meet the woman's stern gaze levelly, her features smooth. Well, as smooth as she could make them. Another hour, or just a little more, and they would be equals, at least to some degree. Never again would Elaida be able to make her quail.

  Without a word, she stepped outside, closing the door behind her for the last time, and wordlessly they formed a ring around her, escorting her along the dark gallery to Siuan's door. Silence was required. Jeaine, a slim, copper-skinned Domani, knocked three times, the green fringe of her shawl swaying. Siuan opened the door so quickly she must have been waiting on her toes for the third knock. The ring of sisters parted to let her in, and her eyebrow twitched at the sight of Elaida, but at least she did not grimace, the Light be thanked. Moiraine clenched her jaw to suppress a yawn. She would finish without breaking the proprieties.

  With the soft brush of their slippers on floor tiles they passed along corridors of the Tower where nothing moved save themselves and the flames flickering atop the stand-lamps. Moiraine was surprised not to see any servants. Much of their work was done in the hours before the sisters rose or after they retired for the night. In silence they climbed down into the levels beneath the Tower, along well-lighted passages and past dark. The doors to the chamber where she and Siuan had been tested stood open wide, but there in the corridor, they all stopped, the ring of Aes Sedai breaking apart to form a line behind the two of them as they turned to face the gaping doorway.

  "Who comes here?" Tamra's voice demanded from within.

  "Moiraine Damodred," Moiraine answered clearly, and if her face remained smooth, her heart fluttered. With joy, this time. Siuan spoke her own name at the same instant, defiance touching her tone, if only lightly. She insisted that Elaida would still find some way to rob them of the shawl, if she could.

  Their teachers had never brought up the matter of precedence-perhaps they had never expected the two of them to march this far in complete lockstep-but Moiraine heard someone's breath catch behind her, and when Tamra spoke again, it was after a pause so slight that she might have imagined it.

  "For what reason do you come?"

  "To swear the Three Oaths and thereby claim the shawl of an Aes Sedai," they answered together. Breach of the proprieties or not, they intended to do everything together this morning insofar as possible.

  "By what right do you claim this burden?"

  "By right of having made the passage, submitting myself to the will of the White Tower."

  "Then enter, if you dare, and bind yourself to the White Tower."

  Hand in hand, they entered. Together. A smooth face and a steady tread, neither hurrying nor lagging back. The will of the Tower awaited them in the flesh.

  Tamra, in pale brocaded blue with the Amyrlin's striped stole around her neck, stood framed by the oval ter'angreal, its colors slowly shifting through silver and gold, blue and green, with Aeldra at her side in a darker shade of blue, holding a black velvet cushion in both hands. Along the circular wall stood the shawl-draped Sitters in the Hall of the Tower, grouped by Ajah, and in front of each three Sitters, two more sisters of that Ajah, shawled and each with another shawl folded over one arm. Expressionless eyes watched Siuan and Moiraine cross the floor.

  The ter'angreal presented the first problem to their plan. The tall oval was too narrow for both to pass through at once, not without squeezing together, and that hardly conformed to the required dignity. This was one argument Moiraine had won. Siuan gave her a look-it seemed impossible those blue eyes could turn sharp without altering her smooth expression, yet they did-and, gathering her skirts, stepped through with Moiraine following behind. Side by side they knelt in front of the Amyrlin Seat.

  From the velvet cushion Aeldra held, Tamra took
the Oath Rod, a smooth ivory-white cylinder a foot long and only slightly thicker than Moiraine's wrist. A ter'angreal,the Oath Rod would bind them to the Three Oaths, and thus to the Tower.

  For an instant, Tamra hesitated, as though uncertain which of them to bind first, but only for an instant. Moiraine promptly raised her hands in front of her, palms upward, and Tamra placed the Rod there. This was the price Siuan had exacted, a favor to be granted, for Moiraine's yielding precedence through the oval. Needless to say, she had not revealed her "favor" until Moiraine accepted. She would become Aes Sedai first by minutes. It was so unfair!

  But there was no time for thinking of how she should have known Siuan was up to something when she gave in so easily. The glow of saidar surrounded Tamra, and she touched the Oath Rod with a thin flow of Spirit.

  Moiraine closed her hands around the Rod. It felt like glass, only somehow smoother. "Under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, I vow that I will speak no word that is not true." The Oath settled on her, and suddenly the air seemed to press harder against her skin. Red is white, she thought. Up is down. She could still think a lie, but her tongue would not work to utter it now. "Under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, I vow that I will make no weapon for one man to kill another." The pressure grew abruptly; it felt as though she had been sewn into an invisible garment, much too tight, that molded her from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet.

  To her chagrin, sweat popped out on her forehead, yet she managed to keep her face calm. "Under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, I vow that I will never use the One Power as a weapon except against Shadowspawn, or in the last extreme of defending my life or that of my Warder or another sister." That garment shrank to still greater snugness, and she breathed heavily through her nose, clamping her jaws to keep it from becoming a gasp. Invisible and utterly flexible, yet oh, so tight! This feeling that her flesh was being compressed would fade, but not entirely for a whole year. Light! She wondered how Elaida had enjoyed taking that last oath, with its mention of Warders. The Three Oaths remained unchanged whatever Ajah you intended to join. Thinking of that helped, a little.