The Wheel of Time

by Robert Jordan

  Nynaeve paced the room. The Stone of Tear had withstood sieges and storms, wars and desolation, but Min wondered if it had ever survived anything quite like Nynaeve al’Meara in a pique. The dark-haired Aes Sedai had spent the last three days stalking through the corridors like a crackling thunderhead, intimidating Defenders, terrifying servants.

  “Three days,” Nynaeve said. “Three days he’s been gone! The Last Battle looms, and the Dragon Reborn is missing.”

  “He’s not missing,” Min said softly. “Rand knows where he is.”

  “You do as well,” Nynaeve said, her voice curt.

  “I’m not leading you to him, Nynaeve.”

  “And why not? Surely you can’t—”

  “He needs to be alone.”

  Nynaeve cut off. She walked over to the corner table and poured herself a cup of chilled Tremalking black. Chilled tea. That seemed so odd. Tea was meant to be warming during cold days.

  Min turned her eyes northward again, into the distant, cloud-smothered haze. As far as she could determine through the bond, she was looking directly at him. Was he in Andor, perhaps? Or in the Borderlands? She’d been tempted to use the bond to seek him out at first, when he’d felt that awful anguish. Pain deeper than the wounds in his side. Agony, anger and despair. In those moments, Rand had seemed more dangerous than he ever had before. Not even that night—when he’d knelt above her, strangling her with one hand—had he been as frightening.

  And then…

  She smiled. And then had come the warmth. It radiated from the bond like the comfort of a winter hearth. Something wonderful was happening, something she’d been awaiting without knowing it.

  “It will be all right, Nynaeve,” she said.

  “How can you say that?” The woman took a sip of her tea. “He didn’t destroy Ebou Dar, but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous. You heard what he nearly did to Tam. His own father, Min.”

  “A man should not be condemned for what he ‘nearly’ did, Nynaeve. He stopped himself.”

  “He didn’t stop himself at Natrin’s Barrow.”

  “That was necessary.”

  “You didn’t believe that at the time.”

  Min took a deep breath. Nynaeve had been goading her into arguments lately; she certainly had good reason to be tense. Her husband was riding toward his death. The Dragon Reborn—a man she saw as her charge, still—was wandering alone, and there was nothing Nynaeve could do. And if there was one thing Nynaeve hated, it was being powerless.

  “Nynaeve,” Min said. “If this lasts much longer, I’ll lead you to him. I promise.”

  The Aes Sedai narrowed her eyes. “‘Much longer’?”

  “A few days.”

  “In a few days he could level Cairhien.”

  “Do you really think he would do that, Nynaeve?” Min asked softly. “Truly?”

  “Do I?” Nynaeve gripped her cup of tea, staring down at its contents. “Once I would have laughed at the idea. I knew Rand al’Thor, and the boy still inside him. The man he’s become frightens me. I always told him he needed to grow up. And then…and then he did.” She shivered visibly.

  Min started to reply, but motion drew her attention. Two Maidens—Surial and Lerian—guarded the open doorway to the hallway; they’d turned to watch someone approach. There were always Maidens around Min, these days.

  Sarene Nemdahl entered the small room a moment later. Min’s quarters in the Stone were not expansive—she rarely used them, instead staying with Rand. Her sitting room had a thick blue-and-white rug and a small cherry desk, but nothing else.

  Sarene wore her dark hair in its customary beaded braids framing her near-perfect face. “Cadsuane Sedai,” Sarene said, “she has need of you.”

  “Is that so?” Nynaeve said. “Well, perhaps Cadsuane Sedai can—”

  “Alanna is gone,” Sarene continued, unruffled. “Vanished right from her chambers. The Defenders, they didn’t see her go, and there was no sign of a gateway.”

  “Oh. Well, let’s go then.” Nynaeve bustled out of the chamber.

  “And I’m telling you that I felt nothing,” Corele said. She smiled, tapping the side of her nose. “I don’t know how she got out. Unless you think she somehow invented flying—which I daresay wouldn’t be outside reason, considering some of what has occurred lately.”

  Fool woman, Cadsuane thought, leveling a flat stare at Corele. The woman’s flippancy was preferable to the self-importance of some other Aes Sedai, but today Cadsuane hadn’t the patience for it.

  The Yellow shrugged, still smiling, but said nothing further. Cadsuane placed hands on hips, surveying the small chamber. Room for a trunk to hold clothing, a cot for sleeping and a desk. Cadsuane would have expected an Aes Sedai to demand more, even in Tear. Of course, Alanna didn’t often reveal her intimate connection to the Dragon. Most didn’t know of it.

  Two other Aes Sedai—Rafela Cindal and Bera Harkin—stood at the side of the room. Bera said she’d felt Alanna channeling, but nothing demanding. Certainly not enough to create a gateway.

  Burn that woman! Cadsuane had thought Alanna well in hand, despite recent stubbornness. She’d obviously slipped out intentionally. The clothing from the trunk was gone and the writing desk was mostly bare. Only an empty ink bottle remained.

  “She said nothing to you?” Cadsuane said.

  “No, Cadsuane Sedai,” Bera replied. “We haven’t spoken more than passing words in weeks. I…well, I did often hear weeping in her room.”

  “What is all the fuss about?” a new voice said. Cadsuane glanced at the doorway as Nynaeve arrived and met Cadsuane’s stare. “She’s only one person, and so far as I understand, she was free to leave when she wished.”

  “Phaw,” Cadsuane said. “The girl isn’t ‘only one person.’ She’s a tool. An important one.” She reached over to the desk, holding up a sheet of paper that they’d found in the room. It had been folded with a blood-red seal of wax on one side. “Do you recognize this?”

  Nynaeve frowned. “No. Should I?”

  Lying or truthful? Cadsuane hated not being able to trust the words of someone who called herself an Aes Sedai. But Nynaeve al’Meara had never held the Oath Rod.

  Those eyes looked genuinely confused. Nynaeve should be trustworthy; she prided herself on her honesty. Unless that was a front. Unless she was Black.

  Careful, she thought. You’ll end up as distrustful as the boy is. Nynaeve hadn’t given Alanna the note, which eliminated her last good theory on its origin.

  “So, what is it, Cadsuane Sedai?” Nynaeve demanded. At least she used the honorific; Cadsuane nearly chided the girl for her tone. But, truth be told, she felt as frustrated as Nynaeve did. There were times when such emotions were justified. Facing the end of the world with the Dragon Reborn completely out of control was one of them.

  “I’m not sure,” Cadsuane said. “The letter was opened in haste—the paper was torn. It was dropped on the floor, and the note inside taken, along with clothing and emergency items.”

  “But why does it matter?” Nynaeve asked. Behind her, Min slipped into the room, two Maidens taking up positions by the door. Had Min yet figured out the real reason the Aiel trailed her?

  “Because, Nynaeve,” Min said. “She is a pathway to him.”

  Nynaeve sniffed. “She’s been no more helpful than you, Min.”

  “As persuasive as you can be, Nynaeve,” Cadsuane said dryly, “the Shadow has means to make people more forthcoming.”

  Nynaeve blushed furiously, then began muttering under her breath. Alanna could point the way to the Dragon Reborn. If agents of the Dark One had taken her, there would be no hiding Rand from them. Their traps had been deadly enough when they’d needed to coax and lure him into them.

  “We’ve been fools,” Nynaeve said. “There should have been a hundred Maidens guarding her.”

  “The Forsaken have known where to find him before,” Cadsuane said, though inwardly she agreed. She should have seen Alanna better watched. �
�And he has survived. This is simply one more thing to be aware of.” She sighed. “Can someone bring us some tea?”

  Bera was actually the one who went to fetch it, though Cadsuane hadn’t taken any care to cultivate influence with the woman. Well, a reputation was worth something, it appeared.

  Bera returned shortly; Cadsuane had stepped out into the hall to think. She accepted the cup and braced herself for the tea’s bitter taste—she’d asked for it partially because she needed a moment to think, and an empty-handed woman often looked nervous.

  She raised the cup to her lips. What next? Ask the Defenders at the gate of the Stone? Last night, Alanna—after being prodded—had confirmed that al’Thor was still in the same place. Up north, Andor perhaps. For three days. What was the fool boy—

  Cadsuane froze. The tea tasted good.

  It was wonderful, as a matter of fact. Perfectly sweetened with honey. Faint bitterness and a relaxing flavor. It had been weeks, perhaps months, since Cadsuane had tasted tea that wasn’t spoiled.

  Min gasped, turning sharply toward the northern quarter of the city. The two Maidens in the doorway were gone in a heartbeat, dashing down the hallway. Cadsuane’s suspicions were confirmed; their careful watch of Min had been less about protecting her and more about watching for signs of…

  “He’s here,” Min said softly.

  Chapter 13

  For What Has Been Wrought

  Min burst from the Dragonwall Gate on the eastern side of the Stone and dashed across the courtyard. What seemed like an entire clan’s worth of Aiel flooded out behind her, breaking around Min like deer breaking around an oak. They weaved between startled Defenders and grooms, moving with grace and speed toward the wall.

  It was galling how easily they outpaced her—years ago, she’d prided herself on being able to beat any boy she knew in an honest footrace. Now…well, too many months spent picking through books, perhaps.

  She still outpaced the Aes Sedai, who were bridled by their need to maintain proper decorum. Min had long ago tossed aside all sense of decorum for her towering sheepherder. And so she ran, thankful for her breeches and boots, making for the gate.

  And there he was. She pulled up sharply, looking through an open column of Aiel in cadin’sor toward the man himself, standing and speaking with two Defenders who were part of the wall guard. He glanced at her as she grew close; he could feel her coming, as she felt him.

  Rand had found an old, long brown cloak somewhere. It had sleeves like a coat, though it fell loose from the shoulders. Underneath it, he had on a shirt and fine black trousers.

  Now that he was close, the warmth through the bond seemed overwhelming. Couldn’t the others see it? It made her want to raise her arm and shade her eyes, though there was nothing to actually see. It was just the bond. Except…the air did seem to distort around him. Was that a trick of the sunlight? New viewings spun around his head. She normally ignored those, but she couldn’t do so now. An open cavern, gaping like a mouth. Bloodstained rocks. Two dead men on the ground, surrounded by ranks and ranks of Trollocs, a pipe with smoke curling from it.

  Rand met her gaze, and—despite the bond—she was amazed at what she saw in him. Those gray gemstone eyes of his were deeper. There were faint wrinkles around them. Had those been there before? Surely he was too young for that.

  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 Three-fold Land,” 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. Kainea, 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 off to do as requested. Min frowned, keeping pace with Rand and Darlin as 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, looking 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….”