The wheel of time, p.1197
The Wheel of Time, page 1197
“Return me to my homeland through one of those strange portals,” Lorstrum said, “and give me one hour.”
“I need only a half an hour, Your Majesty,” Bertome put in, glancing at Lorstrum.
“One hour,” Elayne said, holding up her hands. “Prepare well.”
“All right,” Birgitte said as the door to the smaller chamber closed. “What in the name of the Dark One’s bloody left hand just happened?”
Elayne sat down. It had worked! Or it seemed as if it would. The plush chair was a comfort after the stiffness of the Lion Throne. Dyelin took a seat to her right; Morgase sat to her left.
“What happened,” Morgase said, “is that my daughter is brilliant.”
Elayne smiled in gratitude. Birgitte, however, frowned. Elayne could feel the woman’s confusion. She was the only one in the room with them; they had to wait one hour to see the true results of Elayne’s plotting.
“All right,” Birgitte said. “So you gave up a bunch of Andor’s land to Cairhienin nobility.”
“As a bribe,” Dyelin said. She didn’t seem as convinced as Morgase. “A clever maneuver, Your Majesty, but dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” Birgitte said. “Blood and ashes, will someone please explain to the idiot over here why bribery is brilliant or clever? It’s hardly Elayne who discovered it.”
“This was more than a gift,” Morgase said. Incongruously, she took to pouring tea for those in the room. Elayne couldn’t ever recall seeing her mother pour tea before. “The major obstacle blocking Elayne from Cairhien was that she would be viewed as a conqueror.”
“Yes, so?” Birgitte asked.
“So she made bonds between the two nations,” Dyelin said, accepting a cup of Tremalking black from Morgase. “By giving that group some land in Andor, she shows that she’s not going to ignore or impoverish the Cairhienin nobility.”
“Beyond that,” Morgase said, “she makes herself less of an oddity. If she’d taken the throne, she’d have gained its lands—and become the only person to have holdings in both countries. Now she’ll be one of many.”
“But it’s dangerous,” Dyelin repeated. “Lorstrum didn’t give in because of the bribe.”
“He didn’t?” Birgitte said, frowning. “But—”
“She’s right,” Elayne said, sipping her tea. “He gave in because he saw that I was handing him the chance for both thrones.”
The room fell silent.
“Bloody ashes,” Birgitte finally swore.
Dyelin nodded. “You have created enemies who could overthrow you, Elayne. If something were to happen to you, there is a good chance that either Lorstrum or Bertome could make a play for both countries.”
“I’m counting on it,” Elayne said. “They’re the two most powerful noblemen in Cairhien right now, particularly since Dobraine hasn’t returned from wherever Rand took him. With them actively supporting the idea of a common monarch, we actually have a chance at this.”
“They’ll only be supporting you because they see a chance of taking both thrones for themselves!” Dyelin said.
“Better to choose your enemies than remain in ignorance,” Elayne said. “I’ve essentially limited my competition. They saw the dragons, and those made them envious. Then I offered them the chance not only to gain access to those weapons, but to double their wealth. And on top of that, I gave them the seed of possibility that one day, they might be named king.”
“So they’ll try to kill you,” Birgitte said flatly.
“Perhaps,” Elayne said. “Or, perhaps they’ll try to undermine me. But not for many years—a decade, I’d guess. To strike now would be to risk the nations dividing again. No, first they’ll establish themselves and enjoy their wealth. Only once they’re certain that things are secure—and that I’ve grown lax—will they move. Fortunately, there are two of them, and that will let me play them against one another. And for now, we have gained two staunch allies—men who keenly want my bid for the Sun Throne to succeed. They will hand the crown right to me.”
“And the prisoners?” Dyelin said. “Elenia and the other two? Do you really intend to find them lands?”
“Yes,” Elayne said. “What I’ve done for them is actually very kind. The Crown will assume their debts, then give them a fresh start in Cairhien, if this all works. It will be good to have Andoran nobility taking lands there, though I will probably have to give them land out of my own Cairhienin holdings.”
“You’ll leave yourself surrounded by enemies,” Birgitte said, shaking her head.
“As usual,” Elayne said. “Fortunately, I have you to watch over me, don’t I?”
She smiled at the Warder, but knew that Birgitte could sense her nervousness. This was going to be a long hour’s wait.
Chapter 51
A Testing
The hair on Min’s neck rose as she held the crystal sword. Callandor. She’d heard stories of this weapon since she was a child, wild tales of distant Tear and the strange Sword That Is Not a Sword. Now she held it in her own fingers.
It was lighter than she’d expected. Its crystalline length caught and played with the lamplight. It seemed to shimmer too much, the light inside changing even when she didn’t move. The crystal was smooth, but warm. It almost felt alive.
Rand stood in front of her, looking down at the weapon. They were in their rooms inside the Stone of Tear, accompanied by Cadsuane, Narishma, Merise, Naeff and two Maidens.
Rand reached out, touching the weapon. She glanced at him, and a viewing sprang to life above him. A glowing sword, Callandor, being gripped in a black hand. She gasped.
“What did you see?” Rand asked softly.
“Callandor, held in a fist. The hand looks to be made of onyx.”
“Any idea what it means?”
She shook her head.
“We should hide it away again,” Cadsuane said. She wore brown and green today, earthy colors lightened by her golden hair ornaments. She stood with arms folded, back straight. “Phaw! Getting the object out now is foolhardy, boy.”
“Your objection is noted,” Rand said. He took the sa’angreal from Min, then slid it over his shoulder into a sheath on his back. At his side, he once again wore the ancient sword with the red-and-gold dragons painted on the sheath. He’d said before that he considered that to be a kind of symbol. It represented the past to him, and Callandor—somehow—represented the future.
“Rand,” Min said, taking his arm. “My research…remember, Callandor seems to have a deeper flaw than we’ve discovered. This viewing only reinforces what I said before. I worry it may be used against you.”
“I suspect that it will,” Rand said. “Everything else in this world has been used against me. Narishma, a gateway, please. We’ve kept the Borderlanders waiting long enough.”
The Asha’man nodded, bells in his hair tinkling.
Rand turned to Naeff. “Naeff, there has still been no word from the Black Tower?”
“No, my Lord,” the tall Asha’man said.
“I have been unable to Travel there,” Rand said. “That implies great trouble, worse than I had feared. Use this weave. It can disguise you. Travel to a place a day’s ride outside, and ride in, hiding yourself. See what you can discover. Help if you can, and when you find Logain and those loyal to him, deliver him a message for me.”
“What message, my Lord?”
Rand looked distant. “Tell them that I was wrong. Tell them that we’re not weapons. We’re men. Perhaps it will help. Take care. This could be dangerous. Bring me word. I will need to fix things there, but I could easily stumble into a trap more dangerous than any I’ve avoided so far. Problems…so many problems that need fixing. And only one of me. Go in my place, Naeff, for now. I need information.”
“I…Yes, my Lord.” He seemed confused, but he ducked out of the room to obey.
Rand took a deep breath, then rubbed the stump of his left arm. “Let’s go.”
“Are you certain you don’t want to bring more people?” Min asked.
“Yes,” Rand said. “Cadsuane, be ready to open a gateway and get us out if needed.”
“We’re going into Far Madding, boy,” Cadsuane said. “Surely you haven’t forgotten that we are prevented from touching the Source while there.”
Rand smiled. “And you’re wearing a full paralis-net in your hair, which includes a Well. I’m certain you keep it full, and that should be enough to create a single gateway.”
Cadsuane’s face grew expressionless. “I’ve never heard of a paralis-net.”
“Cadsuane Sedai,” Rand said softly. “Your net has a few ornaments I don’t recognize—I suspect it is a Breaking-era creation. But I was there when the first ones were designed, and I wore the original male version.”
The room fell still.
“Well, boy,” Cadsuane finally said. “You—”
“Are you ever going to give up that affectation, Cadsuane Sedai?” Rand asked. “Calling me boy? I no longer mind, though it does feel odd. I was four hundred years old on the day I died during the Age of Legends. I suspect that would make you my junior by several decades at the least. I show you respect. Perhaps it would be appropriate for you to return it. If you wish, you may call me Rand Sedai. I am, so far as I know, the only male Aes Sedai still alive who was properly raised but who never turned to the Shadow.”
Cadsuane paled visibly.
Rand’s smile turned kindly. “You wished to come in and dance with the Dragon Reborn, Cadsuane. I am what I need to be. Be comforted—you face the Forsaken, but have one as ancient as they at your side.” He turned away from her, eyes growing distant. “Now, if only great age really were an indication of great wisdom. As easy to wish that the Dark One would simply let us be.”
He took Min by the arm, and together they walked through Narishma’s gateway. Beyond, a small cluster of Maidens waited inside a wooded clearing, guarding a group of horses. Min climbed into her saddle, noting how reserved Cadsuane looked. As well she should. When Rand spoke like that, it troubled Min more than she wanted to admit.
They rode out of the small thicket, down toward Far Madding, an impressive city set on an island in the middle of a lake. A large army—flying hundreds of banners—spread out around the lake.
“It’s always been a city of importance, you know,” Rand said from beside Min, his eyes distant. “The Guardians are newer, but the city was here long ago. Aren Deshar, Aren Mador, Far Madding. Always a thorn in our side, Aren Deshar was. The enclave of the Incastar—those afraid of progress, afraid of wonder. Turns out they had a right to be afraid. How I wish I had listened to Gilgame…”
“Rand?” Min said softly.
It drew him out of his reverie. “Yes?”
“Is it really as you said? Are you four centuries old?”
“I’m nearly four and a half, I suppose. Do my years in this Age add to those I had before?” He looked at her. “You’re worried, aren’t you? That I’m no longer me, the man you knew, the foolish sheepherder?”
“You’ve got all of this in your mind, so much past.”
“Memories, only,” Rand said.
“But you’re him, too. You talk like you were the one who tried to seal the Bore. Like you knew the Forsaken personally.”
Rand rode in silence for a time. “I suppose I am him. But Min, what you’re missing is this: I may be him now, but he was always me as well. I was always him. I’m not going to change just because I remember—I was the same. I’m me. And I always have been me.”
“Lews Therin was mad.”
“At the end,” Rand said. “And yes, he made mistakes. I made mistakes. I grew arrogant, desperate. But there’s a difference this time. A great one.”
“What difference?”
He smiled. “This time, I was raised better.”
Min found herself smiling as well.
“You know me, Min. Well, I promise you, I feel more like myself now than I have in months. I feel more like myself than I ever did as Lews Therin, if that makes any kind of sense. It’s because of Tam, because of the people around me. You, Perrin, Nynaeve, Mat, Aviendha, Elayne, Moiraine. He tried very hard to break me. I think if I’d been the same as I was so long ago, he would have succeeded.”
They rode across the meadow surrounding Far Madding. As everywhere else, the green here had departed, leaving yellow and brown. It was getting worse and worse.
Pretend that it slumbers, Min told herself. The land isn’t dead. It’s waiting through the winter. A winter of storms and war.
Narishma hissed softly, riding behind. Min glanced at him. The Asha’man’s face had gone hard. Apparently, they’d passed inside the bubble of the Guardian’s influence. Rand gave no indication he’d noticed. He didn’t seem to be having the trouble with sickness when he channeled any longer, which relieved her. Or was he just covering it?
She turned her mind to the task at hand. The Borderlander armies had never explained why they’d defied custom and logic by marching south to find Rand. They were needed desperately. Rand’s intervention at Maradon had saved what was left of the city, but if that sort of thing was happening all across the border with the Blight….
Twenty soldiers—lances upheld with narrow, blood-red banners flapping from them like streamers—intercepted Rand’s group long before it reached the army. Rand stopped and let them approach.
“Rand al’Thor,” one of the men announced. “We are representatives of the Unity of the Border. We will provide escort.”
Rand nodded, and the procession started forward again, this time with guards.
“They didn’t call you Lord Dragon,” Min whispered to Rand. He nodded thoughtfully. Perhaps the Borderlanders did not believe he was the Dragon Reborn.
“Do not be arrogant here, Rand al’Thor,” Cadsuane said, trotting up to ride beside him. “But do not back down. Most Borderlanders will respond to strength when they see it.”
So. Cadsuane called Rand by name, instead of naming him “boy.” It seemed a victory, and it made Min smile.
“I will have that gateway ready,” Cadsuane continued more softly. “But it will be very small. The Well will only give me enough to make one we’d have to crawl through. We shouldn’t need it. These people will fight for you. They will want to fight for you. Only bumbling foolishness could keep them from it.”
“There is more to it than that, Cadsuane Sedai,” Rand replied, his voice hushed. “Something drove them southward. This is a challenge, one I am uncertain how to meet. But your advice is appreciated.”
Cadsuane nodded. Eventually, Min picked out a line of people waiting at the forefront of the army. There were thousands of soldiers behind, standing in rows. Saldaeans, with their bowed legs. Shienarans in topknots. Arafellin, each soldier with two swords strapped to his back. Kandori, with forked beards.
The group at the head stood on the ground, without mounts. They wore fine clothing. Two women and two men, all with what were obviously Aes Sedai at their sides, some with an attendant or two behind.
“The one at the front is Queen Ethenielle,” Cadsuane whispered. “She is a stern woman, but fair. She is known for meddling in the affairs of the southern nations, and I suspect the others will let her take the lead today. The handsome man beside her is Paitar Nachiman, King of Arafel.”
“Handsome?” Min asked, inspecting the balding older Arafellin. “Him?”
“It depends on one’s perspective, child,” Cadsuane said without missing a beat. “He was once known widely for his face, and he is still known for his sword. Beside him is King Easar Togita of Shienar.”
“So sad,” Rand said softly. “Who did he lose?”
Min frowned. Easar didn’t look particularly sad to her. Solemn, perhaps.
“He’s a Borderlander,” Cadsuane said. “He’s fought the Trollocs all his life; I’d suspect he’s lost many a person dear to him. His wife did die some years back. He’s said to have the soul of a poet, but he is an austere man. If you could earn his respect, it would mean much.”
“The last one is Tenobia, then,” Rand said, rubbing his chin. “Still wish I had Bashere with us.” Bashere had said that his face might fuel Tenobia’s anger, and Rand had listened to reason on that count.
“Tenobia,” Cadsuane said, “is a wildfire. Young, impertinent and reckless. Don’t let her draw you into an argument.”
Rand nodded. “Min?”
“Tenobia has a spear hovering over her head,” Min said. “Bloody, but shining in the light. Ethenielle will soon be wed—I see that by white doves. She plans to do something dangerous today, so be careful. The other two have various swords, shields and arrows hovering about them. Both will fight soon.”
“In the Last Battle?” Rand asked.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It could be here, today.”
Their escort led them up to the four monarchs. Rand slid out of the saddle, patting Tai’daishar on the neck as the horse snorted. Min moved to dismount, as did Narishma, but Rand held up a hand to stop them.
“Blasted fool,” Cadsuane muttered from beside Min, low enough that nobody else could hear. “He asks me to be ready to get him out, then leaves us?”
“He likely meant that you should get me away,” Min said softly. “Knowing him, he’s more worried about me than himself.” She paused. “Blasted fool.”
Cadsuane shot her a glance, then smiled slightly before turning back to watch Rand.
He stepped up to the four monarchs and stopped, raising his arms to the sides, as if to ask, “What is it you wish of me?”
Ethenielle took the lead, as Cadsuane had guessed. She was a plump woman, her dark hair pulled away from her face and tied at the back. She strode up to Rand, a man walking beside her and carrying a sheathed sword in his arm, hilt pointed toward her.
Nearby, the Maidens rustled. They stepped up beside Rand. As usual, they assumed that commands to stay back didn’t include them.
