“This is important, Nynaeve,” Egwene said. “I doubt there is anything you alone could do to stop Rand now. We need to gather allies for a unified front.”
“All right,” Nynaeve said.
“What worries me is the testing,” Egwene said. “The Sitters have begun to argue that—while it was all right to raise you and the others in exile—you should still have to go through the testing, now that the White Tower is reunified. They make very good arguments. Perhaps I can argue that your difficult challenges recently should earn you an exemption. We don’t have time to teach you two all of the weaves you’d need.”
Elayne nodded. Nynaeve shrugged. “I’ll do the testing. If I’m going to come back, then I might as well do this properly.”
Egwene blinked in surprise. “Nynaeve, these are very complex weaves. I haven’t had time to memorize all of them; I swear that many are needlessly ornate simply to be difficult.” Egwene had no intention of going through the testing herself, and didn’t need to. The law was specific. By being made Amyrlin, she had become Aes Sedai. Things weren’t as clear in regards to Nynaeve and the others that Egwene had raised.
Nynaeve shrugged again. “The hundred testing weaves aren’t so bad. I could show them to you right here, if you wanted me to.”
“When have you had time to learn those?” Elayne exclaimed.
“I haven’t spent the last few months mooning about and dreaming of Rand al’Thor.”
“Securing the throne of Andor is not ‘mooning about’!”
“Nynaeve,” Egwene cut in, “if you truly have the weaves memorized, then being raised properly would help me a great deal. It would look less like I’m favoring my friends.”
“The testing is supposed to be dangerous,” Elayne said. “Are you sure you have the weaves in hand?”
“I’ll be fine,” Nynaeve said.
“Excellent,” Egwene said. “I’ll expect you here in the morning.”
“So soon!” Nynaeve said, aghast.
“The sooner you can hold that Oath Rod, the sooner I’ll be able to stop worrying about you. Elayne, we’ll still have to do something about you.”
“The pregnancy,” Elayne said. “It’s interfering with my ability to channel. That’s getting better—I could get here, thankfully—but it’s still a problem. Explain to the Hall it would be too dangerous for me—and for the babes—to undergo the testing while unable to channel consistently.”
“They might suggest you wait,” Nynaeve said.
“And let me run around without the oaths?” Elayne said. “Though I would like to know if anyone’s taken the oaths while pregnant before, just to be sure.”
“I’ll find what I can,” Egwene said. “Until then, I have another task for you.”
“I am rather busy with ruling Andor, Mother.”
“I know,” Egwene said. “Unfortunately, there’s nobody else I can ask. I need more dream ter’angreal.”
“I might be able to manage,” Elayne said. “Assuming I can start channeling reliably.”
“What happened to the dream ter’angreal you had?” Nynaeve asked Egwene.
“Stolen,” Egwene said. “By Sheriam—who, by the way, was Black Ajah.”
The two gasped, and Egwene realized that the revelation of the hundreds of Black sisters was unknown to them. She took a deep breath. “Steel yourselves,” she said. “I’ve got a painful story for you. Before the Seanchan attack, Verin came to—”
At that moment, the bell went off in her head again. Egwene willed herself to move. The room blinked around her, and she was suddenly standing outside in the hallway, where her wards were set.
She came face-to-face with Talva, a thin woman with a bun of golden hair. She had once been of the Yellow Ajah, but was one of the Black sisters who had fled the Tower.
Weaves of Fire sprang up around Talva, but Egwene had already begun working on a shield. She slammed it between the other woman and the Source, immediately weaving Air to snare her.
A sound came from behind. Egwene didn’t think; she moved herself, relying on practiced familiarity with Tel’aran’rhiod. She appeared behind a woman who was letting loose a jet of Fire. Alviarin.
Egwene snarled, beginning another shield as Alviarin’s wave of Fire hit the unfortunate Talva, causing her to scream as her flesh burned. Alviarin spun, then yelped, vanishing.
Burn her! Egwene thought. Alviarin was at the very top of the list of people she wanted captured. The hallway fell still, Talva’s corpse—blackened and smoking—slumping to the ground. She’d never awaken; die here, and one died in the real world.
Egwene shivered; that murderous weave had been meant for her. I relied too much on channeling, she thought. Thought happens more quickly than weaves can be made. I should have imagined ropes around Alviarin.
No, Alviarin would still have been able to jump away from ropes. Egwene hadn’t been thinking like a Dreamer. Lately, her mind had been on the Aes Sedai and their problems, and weaves had come naturally to her. But she couldn’t let herself forget that in this place, thought was more powerful than the One Power.
Egwene looked up as Nynaeve barreled out of the Hall, Elayne following more cautiously. “I sensed channeling,” Nynaeve said. She looked at the burned corpse. “Light!”
“Black sisters,” Egwene said, folding her arms. “It seems they’re making good use of those dream ter’angreal. I’d guess they’re under orders to prowl the White Tower at night. Perhaps looking for us, perhaps looking for information to use against us.” Egwene and the others had done that very thing during Elaida’s reign.
“We shouldn’t have met here,” Nynaeve said. “Next time, we’ll use a different place.” She hesitated. “If it suits you, Mother.”
“It might,” Egwene said. “It might not. We’ll never defeat them unless we can find them.”
“Walking into traps is hardly the best way to defeat them, Mother,” Nynaeve said flatly.
“Depends on your preparation,” Egwene said. She frowned. Had she just seen a flutter of black cloth, ducking around a corner? Egwene was there in a moment; Elayne’s startled curse sounded down the hallway behind her. My, but the woman had a tongue on her.
The place was empty. Eerie, almost too silent. That was normal in Tel’aran’rhiod.
Egwene remained full of the One Power, but moved back to the other two. She had cleansed the White Tower, but an infestation remained, hiding at its heart.
I will find you, Mesaana, Egwene thought, then waved for the others to join her. They moved to the hillside where she’d been earlier, a place where she could give a more detailed explanation of events they’d missed.
Chapter 15
Use a Pebble
Nynaeve hastened through the paved streets of Tear, the Asha’man Naeff at her side. She could still feel that storm to the north, distant but terrible. Unnatural. And it was moving southward.
Lan was up there. “Light protect him,” she whispered.
“What was that, Nynaeve Sedai?” Naeff asked.
“Nothing.” Nynaeve was getting used to having the black-coated men around. She did not feel an uncomfortable chill when she looked at Naeff. That would be silly. Saidin had been cleansed, with her own help. No need to be uncomfortable. Even if the Asha’man did sometimes stare off into nothing, muttering to themselves. Like Naeff, who was looking into the shadow of a nearby building, hand on his sword.
“Careful, Nynaeve Sedai,” he said. “There’s another Myrddraal following us.”
“You’re…certain, Naeff?”
The tall, rectangular-faced man nodded. He was talented with weaves—particularly Air, which was unusual for a man—and he was very polite to Aes Sedai, unlike some of the other Asha’man. “Yes, I’m certain,” he said. “I don’t know why I can see them and others cannot. I must have a Talent for it. They hide in shadows, scouts of some sort, I think. They haven’t struck yet; I think they’re wary because they know I can see them.”
He’d taken to night
walks through the Stone of Tear, watching the Myrddraal that only he could see. His madness wasn’t getting worse, but old injuries wouldn’t go away. He’d always bear this scar. Poor man. At least his madness wasn’t as bad as some of the others’.
Nynaeve looked forward, marching down the wide, paved street. Buildings passed on either side, designed in Tear’s haphazard way. A large mansion, with two small towers and a bronze, gatelike door sat beside an inn of only modest size. Across from them was a row of homes with wrought iron worked into the doors and windows, but a butcher’s shop had been built right in the middle of the line.
Nynaeve and Naeff were heading for the All Summers neighborhood, which was just inside the western wall. It wasn’t the richest section of Tear, but it was definitely prosperous. Of course, in Tear, there was really only one division: commoner or noble. Many of the nobles still considered commoners completely different—and wholly inferior—creatures.
They passed some of those commoners. Men in loose breeches tied at the ankles, colorful sashes at the waist. Women in high-necked dresses, pale aprons hanging at the front. Wide straw hats with flat tops were common, or cloth caps that hung to one side. Many people carried clogs on a string over their shoulders to use once they returned to the Maule.
The people passing Nynaeve now wore worried faces, some glancing over their shoulders in fear. A bubble of evil had hit the city in that direction. Light send that not too many were hurt, for she didn’t have much time to spare. She had to return to the White Tower. It galled her to have to obey Egwene. But obey she would, and leave as soon as Rand returned. He’d gone somewhere this morning. Insufferable man. At least he’d taken Maidens with him. He’d reportedly said he needed to fetch something.
Nynaeve quickened her step, Naeff at her side, until they were nearly running. A gateway would have been faster, but it wouldn’t be safe; she couldn’t be certain they wouldn’t slice into someone. We’re growing too dependent on those gateways, she thought. Our own feet hardly seem good enough anymore.
They turned a corner into a street where a group of nervous Defenders—wearing black coats and silvery breastplates, black and gold sleeves puffing out at the sides—stood in a line. They parted for her and Naeff, and while they looked relieved that she’d arrived, they still clutched their polearms nervously.
The city beyond them looked faintly…blander than it should. Washed out. The paving stones were a lighter shade of gray, the walls of the buildings a fainter brown or gray than they should have been.
“You have men inside searching for wounded?” Nynaeve asked.
One of the Defenders shook his head. “We’ve been keeping people out, er, Lady Aes Sedai. It’s not safe.”
Most Tairens still weren’t accustomed to showing Aes Sedai respect. Until recently, channeling had been outlawed in the city.
“Send your men to search,” Nynaeve said firmly. “The Lord Dragon will be upset if your timidity costs lives. Start at the perimeter. Send for me if you find anyone I can help.”
The guardsmen moved off. Nynaeve turned to Naeff, and he nodded. She turned and took a step into the affected section of town. When her foot hit the paving stone, the stone turned to dust. Her foot sank through the shattered paving stone and hit packed earth.
She looked down, feeling a chill. She continued forward, and the stones fell to powder as she touched them. She and Naeff made their way to a nearby building, leaving a trail of powdered rock behind.
The building was an inn with nice balconies on the second floor, delicate ironwork patterns on the glass windows, and a darkly stained porch. The door was open, and as she lifted her foot up to step onto the low porch, the boards also turned to powder. She froze, looking down. Naeff stepped up beside her, then knelt down, pinching the dust between his fingers.
“It’s soft,” he said quietly, “as fine a powder as I’ve ever touched.”
The air smelled unnaturally fresh, contrasting strangely with the silent street. Nynaeve took a deep breath, then went into the inn. She had to push forward, walking with the wooden floor at her knees, the boards disintegrating as she touched them.
The inside was dim. The stand-lamps no longer burned. People sat about the room, frozen in midmotion. Most were nobles with fine clothing, the men wearing beards oiled to a point. One sat at a nearby tall table with long-legged chairs. He had a mug of morning ale halfway to his lips. He was motionless, his mouth open to accept the drink.
Naeff’s face was grim, although little seemed to surprise or unsettle Asha’man. As he took another step forward, Nynaeve lunged and grabbed his arm. He frowned at her, and she pointed down. Right in front of him—barely visible beneath the still-whole floorboards right ahead of them—the ground fell away. He’d been about to step into the inn’s cellar.
“Light,” Naeff said, stepping back. He knelt down, then tapped the board in front of him. It fell to dust, showering down into the dark cellar below.
Nynaeve wove Spirit, Air and Water to Delve the man sitting at the chair near her. Normally she would touch someone to Delve them, but she hesitated this time. It would work without touch, but would not be as effective for Healing.
Her Delving found nothing. No life, no sense that he had ever been alive. His body wasn’t even flesh. With a sinking feeling, she Delved other people in the darkened room. A serving maid carrying breakfast toward three Andoran merchants. A corpulent innkeeper, who must have had trouble navigating between the close-set tables. A woman in a rich dress sitting in the very back of the room, primly reading a small book.
There was no life in any of them. These weren’t corpses; they were husks. Fingers trembling, Nynaeve reached out and brushed the shoulder of the man at the high table. He immediately fell to powder, dust showering downward in a puff. The chair and floorboards underneath did not dissolve.
“There is nobody here to save,” Nynaeve said.
“Poor people,” Naeff said. “Light shelter their souls.”
Nynaeve often had trouble feeling pity for the Tairen nobles—of all the people she had met, they seemed among the most arrogant. But nobody deserved this. Besides, a large number of commoners had been caught in this bubble as well.
She and Naeff made their way out of the building, Nynaeve’s frustration mounting as she tugged on her braid. She hated feeling helpless. Like with the poor guard who had started the fire back at the manor house in Arad Doman, or the people who were struck down by strange diseases. The dusty husks this day. What was the good of learning to Heal if she couldn’t help people?
And now she had to leave. Go back to the White Tower. It felt like running away. She turned to Naeff. “Wind,” she said.
“Nynaeve Sedai?”
“Give the building a gust of wind, Naeff,” she said. “I want to see what happens.”
The Asha’man did as she asked, his invisible weaves blowing a jet of air. The entire building burst, shattering into dust that blew away, like the white seeds of a dandelion. Naeff turned to her.
“How wide did they say this bubble was?” she asked.
“About two streets wide in all directions.”
“We need more wind,” she said, beginning a weave. “Create a gust as large as you can. If there is anyone wounded in here, we’ll find them this way.”
Naeff nodded. The two of them strode forward, creating wind. They shattered buildings, causing them to burst and fall. Naeff was far more skilled at the process than she, but Nynaeve was stronger in the One Power. Together, they swept the crumbling buildings, stones and husks before them in a dust storm.
It was exhausting work, but they kept at it. She hoped—against reason—that she might find someone to help. Buildings fell before her and Naeff, the dust getting caught in swirling air. They pushed the dust in a circle, moving inward. Like a woman sweeping the floor.
They passed people frozen on the streets in midstride. Oxen pulling a cart. Heart-wrenchingly, some children playing in an alley. All fell to dust.
Th
ey found nobody alive. Eventually, she and Naeff had dissolved all of the broken part of the city and blown the dust into the center. Nynaeve looked at it, kept swirling in place by a small cyclone Naeff had woven. Curious, Nynaeve channeled a tongue of Fire into the cyclone, and the dust caught alight.
Nynaeve gasped; that dust went up like dried paper thrown into a fire, creating a roaring tempest of flames. She and Naeff backed away, but it was over in a flash. It didn’t leave any ash behind.
If we hadn’t gathered it, she thought, watching the fire fade away, someone might have dropped a candle on it. A fire like that…
Naeff stilled his winds. The two of them stood in the center of an open circle of bare earth with periodic holes for cellars. On the edges, buildings had been sliced into, rooms open to the air, some structures having collapsed. It was eerie, to see this hollow area. Like a gouged-out eye socket in an otherwise healthy face.
Several groups of Defenders stood at the perimeter. She nodded to Naeff, and they walked to the largest group. “You didn’t find anyone?” she demanded.
“No, Lady Aes Sedai,” a man said. “Er…well, we did find a few, but they were dead already.”
Another man nodded, a barrel-like fellow whose uniform was very tight. “Seems anyone who had even a toe inside of that ring fell dead. Found a few of them missing only a foot or part of their arm. But they were dead anyway.” The man shuddered visibly.
Nynaeve closed her eyes. The entire world was falling apart, and she was powerless to Heal it. She felt sick and angry.
“Maybe they caused it,” Naeff said softly. She opened her eyes to see him nodding toward the shadows of a building nearby. “The Fades. There are three of them there, Nynaeve Sedai, watching us.”
“Naeff…” she said, frustrated. Telling him the Fades weren’t real didn’t help. I have to do something, she thought. Help someone. “Naeff, stand still.” She took hold of his arm and Delved him. He looked at her, surprised, but didn’t object.
The Wheel of Time Page 1131