Once, Siuan had stood higher than any person in any pavillion. Kings and generals and chiefs and bannermen-all gave way before the Amyrlin Seat.

Now? She was General Bryne's companion, and Bryne was the leader of the White Tower's army, their blade at last pointed towards Tarmon Gai'don and duty rather than schism and civil war. Even if there had not been oaths or visions linking them, part of her thought she would have taken Gareth as a Warder anyway. Light knew he was fool enough of a man to think with the hair on his chest without prudence to guide him, and like Alric, he was a loyal and true a friend as any. When the end of an Age was at hand, such a friendship was a rare blessing.

But even the woman who had replaced her was up against a force as immutable as cuendillar. The Dragon had been reborn, and claimed the world as his birthright-or perhaps, his deathright. It was easier to negotiate-or extract concessions-if you did not expect to live with your allies' resentment.

This was what she had worked for, she reminded herself. This was why she and Moiraine had sacrificed decades they could have spent together, Siuan losing her power and Moiraine her life: to make sure that the Dragon was guarded from Darkfriends, that prophecy might be fulfilled. He was always meant to overshadow mere humans.

Still, Siuan did not envy Egwene in that moment. The Amyrlin, too, was more than one woman, but an institution that spanned centuries. Her calling, her duty, was to be the Watcher of the Seals. Who was some upstart man to take them from her and hope to shatter them?

Their grumbling grew to a fever pitch. Gareth tensed, clearly believing the meeting had outlasted its purpose. Siuan tried to project calm, but what was she besides the Dragon and the Amyrlin's duel of wills? And then, just when it seemed as if another civil war might destroy them before the Darkfriends had a chance, a slight, calm figure walked into the tent.

She looked as if she could still be a Cairhienin noblewoman, if she wished. Her ageless face said that the Oaths still held, but for Siuan, she would always be the young Accepted with endless ambition to learn, and to turn that knowledge into service. Was this some sign of the world's decay, like the rotting grain and the ghosts that walked through walls?

No. It was Moiraine, Moiraine in the flesh. Even Rand looked at her with awe: had she managed to heal death itself?

As she made brief introductions and murmured the same old cliches about the wheel's will, Siuan noticed another figure in her wake. A gleeman, or a courtbard? Gareth seemed to grow wary again-not as if facing Trollocs, but as if getting ready to play at Daes Dae'mar.

The world was shattering and being remade in many ways. The Seanchan chained channelers, and Aiel travelled on Sea Folk boats. A "Black Tower" taught Asha'man who claimed to channel with untainted saidin. If Moiraine had found herself a man since returning from the dead, it would be far from the strangest occurrence. All the same, the bard unsettled her.

At least Moiraine's arrival silenced the Dragon and the Amyrlin's war of attrition. A few words from her-rather, a few words from the Karaethon Cycle-and they seemed to remember their purpose. But that consensus only lasted until the Aiel began squabbling over whether they, too, could sign the treaty. Aiel!

Born of the ancient blood, and raised of the old blood. Had Rand al'Thor found his blood kin across the Dragonwall? A strange priority amid all the other changes. But he, too, had human dreams and longings. She hoped. Surely not even resolving to die could erase every instinct that came with being alive.

Once the treaty was finally signed-pending the Empress' approval, which Siuan considered a rather significant hedge-the dignitaries dispersed. The Dragon seemed to have need of Moiraine for some further task. Tying up loose ends with his Two Rivers comrades, perhaps? Perhaps it was well if there was still some of the sheepherder in him.

"Lord Bryne," said Queen Elayne. "I would have your maps, if you please."

"Of course, your highness," said Gareth, then grinned at Siuan. "If you please?"

Siuan squeezed his hand reassuringly. There were far worse things to fear than a ponderous cartography session. While he went to confer with the other tacticians, Siuan took in the immense trees that had sprouted in the Dragon's wake. They would be a magnificent monument in the next Age, if the Wheel continued to spin.

Then a light hand on her shoulder. Moiraine had always had to reach up to kiss her. She wore a wooden bracelet now-some kind of object of the Power, maybe? "Siuan."

"Moiraine," she said, not sure whether she was more exasperated or relieved or astonished. "What under the Light-"

"I'm sorry," she interrupted. "Almost as soon as I knew what paths I might travel, I heard that you were dead, and thought at least you would be spared any further grief."

"You knew what would happen?" Curse the woman, trying to do it all herself!

"What might. Some fates more likely than others. I saw worlds where Lanfear killed young al'Thor without my intervention. I saw worlds where Matrim Cauthon was killed trying to rescue me." The Hornsounder was still making trouble?

"Other worlds?" Siuan said. "How long have you been shielding this from me? And if you say the three arches-"

"Three rings there are, but not those of our Tower," said Moiraine. "I saw this in Rhuidean."

"Rhuidean!" Siuan blurted. "You must tell me what has happened, everything since Fal Dara."

Moiraine raised an eyebrow. "Only if you do the same."

Last Battle or no Last Battle, they gossiped like a pair of novices-Moiraine had balefired a Forsaken? Siuan had infiltrated the Tower via a secret waterway?-until the gleeman awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Aha," said Moiraine. "Thom, you must know Siuan Sanche. Siuan, this is Thomdril Merrilin, my new Warder."

That settled that, then. Siuan curtsied briefly. "You have done the world a great service in rescuing Moiraine, Gaidin. Light knows who else could have prevented those two from coming to blows."

Merrilin snorted. "There is such a thing as Two Rivers stubbornness."

"And you?" Moiraine inquired. "I see you have become familiar with the Captain-General?"

She would not blush. "In times like these, each piece of steel in a sword may be the mettle that keeps the Wheel spinning."

"Quite a man," said Merrilin. "If we survive, I'll have to play him at stones."

"If you survive," Moiraine said, "you will be too particular about composing your ballad to play anyone at stones."

"Did you see that in your visions, too? Or was that Farshaw?" Merrilin responded. Teasing, but in a friendly way. A loving way.

"You are not so clever at Daes Dae'mar as you think, Gaidin. Even a minnow-brained dockhand can tell you dream of writing the Dragon Reborn's ballad."

Minnow-brained dockhand. That had to be the sort of thing Moiraine had picked up from her. Now it was so much a part of her that she used it without thinking. Or, worse, she used it to spite Siuan-maybe to her, their time together had been just a schoolgirl fantasy, to be forgotten when duty called.

Well, so be it. Siuan could not compete with a man who had braved the realms of the snakes and foxes armed with music to dazzle. What she could do was defend the new Amyrlin, maps or no maps. Duty had called often enough; it would be no burden to answer once more.


An assassin dove for Min. She dodged his reach, and responded by hurling a knife of her own. She reached for another, but he was too fast, catching it and deflecting its aim. He lunged forward, sneering.

Then he teetered as Siuan's weave stopped his heart. Air and Spirit, not very different from Healing. The dagger slipped from his hands as he fell to the floor of the command tent.

"No fire so vast," Siuan said, "that water and air cannot quench it."

"Siuan!" Min hissed. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving your life, child."

"You're supposed to be with Gareth Bryne!"

"That vision came true already. We saved each other's lives at the Tower."

"No," said Min. "Whatever I saw, it's still there!"

"Maybe the vision is wrong."

"My visions are never wrong, Siuan."

"You told me one that was. That Rand couldn't make it to the Last Battle without the aid of someone who had died. And yet you still saw visions around him. Maybe this-"

"The visions weren't wrong. The world was wrong. We all thought Moiraine was dead, but-"

"Bloody fishguts," said Siuan. "Your visions told you Moiraine would come back? After Lan could no longer sense her?" Did everyone know except me?

"It doesn't matter!" Min said. "Go find Gareth!"

Light, just because Min was a fool over a man did not mean Siuan had to be the same! The world was ending; maybe it would be easier if she died saving Cauthon or Min or someone with a plan. She would not have to mope, for one.

When the anchor hits sand, you can rest, but while it floats, the captain keeps watch. She had fought long and hard to reach this day; one more battle would not break her. "Gareth!" she called, leaving the tent. "Gareth flaming Captain-General bloody Bryne!"

Some combination of the Power and her anger carried the message. "Are you well?"

He would have known if she was not, but there was no sense correcting him on the matter. "We are going to stand guard over Matrim Cauthon. Think you can manage that?"

"With you managing the tactics," said Gareth, "I can manage anything."

Infuriating man, but useful. Siuan hustled back to the tent, noticing Min's face change from skepticism to relief as Gareth followed close behind. A Gray Man lunged for the Seanchan empress, but a weave from Siuan froze it in place in time for Gareth's sword to finish it off.

"You're welcome," Siuan muttered, as the empress gasped. "And when this battle is done, we are going to have words about your regime."

"Bloody get in line," said Cauthon, hoisting his ashandarei and dispatching another assassin. "Egwene's already called dibs."


Pyres burned and mourners gathered in the wake of the cataclysm. Romanda and Lelaine were already bickering over how to plan the memorial to Egwene. The woman might have laughed to see their pointless arguments; had they learned nothing from the schism? Or perhaps she would have laughed because while they were arguing over lifeless statues, they could not object to plans to learn with and from the Wise Ones and Windfinders. Egwene's dreams would live for centuries, even if she did not.

"The Hall says they wish to call Cadsuane now," said Moiraine. "I cannot say I envy her."

Siuan shrugged. "It's one thing to lead at the end of an Age. Perhaps it is another to guide the beginning." Would Cadsuane be beholden to prophecies, or merely try to exert her own will on the pattern?

Moiraine was still wearing that bracelet. "Is that a gift from your Gaidin?" Siuan continued.

"This?" Moiraine fingered it. Up close, Siuan could see the carvings of a contortionist gripping his own heels. At peace as the Wheel turned, or bound by powers outside his control? "It's from Rhuidean. Nearly powerful enough to be a sa'angreal. You're welcome to borrow it, but for once I'm not sure there's anyone left in need of healing."

"Borrow it?" Siuan said. "I've come to terms with my weakness; you don't need to taunt me."

"Your weakness?" Moiraine echoed, sounding truly confused. "I-earned this for myself. To compensate for what the Eelfinn drained from me."

Drained? "You were never stilled? They just...took the Power from you?"

"Bit by bit, yes," said Moiraine. "In a way, that is preferable. Those who cannot channel lose their memories first, and I daresay I have many memories that I would not care to part with. That have sustained me in my solitude, in this world and the other."

Memories. That's all they were. It was enough that the world lived, that Moiraine lived; anything else was a childish dream.

"And you?" Moiraine continued. "It's true, then? Nynaeve found a way to Heal you all at once?"

"It only worked the once," Siuan said. "Not as I was, but it is still the True Source. Any strength is better than none."

Moiraine smiled. "That woman is a wonder. Healing Stilling, helping the Dragon cleanse saidin...and she gave my Lan something, not just to die for, but to live for. That may be the most miraculous of them all."

What struck Siuan was not the challenge of finding something to live for, but Moiraine's offhand mention of "my Lan." She had heard much of Mandragoran from Moiraine's letters-the uncrowned king of Malkier, striving to give all he could to thwart the Shadow. Blunt where Moiraine was subtle, cynical where she dared to hope. They had been a well-matched pair in every sense, where the Power was concerned. But beyond that? "Did you love him?"

"We spent years together. It would be have been strange had I not."

"But that love was not enough to let him savor life?"

"Light, Siuan! You of all people should know that a sworn duty or a sister-in-arms can be all the purpose someone needs, but not even the One Power can substitute one sort of love for another."

Gutting a haddock was unpleasant work, but better to get it over with in a clean slice than bury her hands in scales all day. "And Merrilin? What sort of love does he bear for you?"

Moiraine stared, as if the strain of the battle had at last caught up with her and deafened her ears. Then she smirked. "Thom saved my life at great risk to his own. I hear you did much the same for the Seanchan empress. Shall I take it that you have joined the Imperial household?"

"What sort of fool do you take me for?" Siuan fumed. "A schoolgirl or a slave?"

"Gareth Bryne, now, he is a great captain of distinction. Perhaps you find his loyalty something to desire?"

"General Bryne was manipulated and his mind twisted by Graendal before the Last Battle," said Siuan. "And not even the Forsaken's Compulsion would bring him to consider me as a lover rather than an ally. Does that satisfy you, or do I need to make it more bloody plain?"

Moiraine shook her head, then broke down in laughter. "Listen to us! Bickering like novices scrubbing pans. Laras would have paddled us both silly by now."

"You are being silly enough that no punishment would suffice."

"As I recall," said Moiraine, "not every paddling was a punishment."

Siuan sighed. "Moiraine. No jests, no game of houses, no deflections. Are you suggesting we pick up where we left off when we were raised? As if the intervening years were nothing?"

"I did not say the intervening years were nothing. The Oaths still hold me."

"I am too old for teasing, and I will not be offended if I am also too old for affection. Only speak plainly, and don't dawdle like an Ogier."

"Old? You were a prodigy, and if forty-two is elderly, I daresay there will be more than a few sisters with scandals to their name."

"I was a prodigy," Siuan said. "Before Egwene and Nynaeve and the rest. Now I'm a trifle."

"The Oaths do not bind you, do they?" Moiraine said. "If these Kinswomen are to believed, you may live three or four centuries yet." Before Siuan could protest, Moiraine continued, "And I would spend every day of three centuries with you, if you would have me."

Siuan froze. "You speak truth," she babbled.

"I do," said Moiraine.

"I suppose you cannot be sure of me," she said, "and I have forgotten what it was like to plan ahead as if years were guaranteed. But I would give you today, and tomorrow, and each day that comes-"

"Siuan." Moiraine silenced her with a kiss. "I have always been sure of you."