Before the White Tower

Kiam Lopiang heeled her pale mare Satin slowly down the hillside, her followers walking their horses after, their Shield-men surrounding them cautiously. They were expected, but this was an uncertain meeting. There could well be trouble.

Up ahead, a rough bridge had been constructed on wooden pilings, leading across the wide, slow river to the island. The water was low, but would rise back to pre-Breaking levels, Kiam had been assured that the rivers would return. She thought about the person who had provided this assurance… Theresia Sedai, as well as her three companions, encountered on the road the week before. They had been heading south, on a personal mission from the new 'Amyrlin Seat' as they called her. They had not been any more forthcoming than that. She did not expect to see them again.

Kiam reigned-in and examined the island, ignoring the looming mass of Dragonmount beyond it, dark tilted eyes peering from a smooth, unlined face, for all that she was well past her three-hundredth year. When she was satisfied that no enemy awaited them, she waved for her followers to proceed.

A group of soldiers guarded the bridge, wearing threadbare cloaks over mismatched armour, but their weapons looked well-tended. A young Aes Sedai who Kiam knew to be one of Elisane Tishar's followers led them, sitting her dark mount stolidly. She inclined her head politely enough to Kiam when introductions were made and sent one of the soldiers riding on ahead, over the bridge. So, they were to be announced. They continued on their way. Glancing back over her shoulder, Kiam noted that each of the soldiers had a stylised white flame embroidered on the back of his cloak. It looked like half of the ancient Sign of the Servants, the white tooth bereft of the black claw. She wondered about that.

Halfway across the long bridge, they began to see their first people. A pair of carts up ahead, pulled by men and not beasts, a cluster of women and children trailing along behind. As she rode past, Kiam examined them. Clearly they were refugees, clad in ragged clothing, thin and gaunt… a not unaccustomed sight. And yet, she saw something in their eyes that she had not seen before. Hope. They were answering the call, coming to the first city to be built after the Breaking, and for all their foot-sore tiredness, their hunger, they yet had hope, the expectation that things might improve.

Kiam saw the same expression in the eyes of the many folk gathered on the far side of the bridge, equally ragged if slightly better fed, grouped into neat encampments to either side of a makeshift, dirt road. There was industry here, a sense of purpose; men sawing timbers, women weaving cloth, even the children engaged in carrying baskets of oddments about. These were not refugees anymore, these were almost citizens again. They had motivation, beyond mere survival.

Curious glances were cast in their direction as Kiam and her followers rode past the camps, but no-one challenged them. Kiam called Jenet forward, and the younger Aes Sedai heeled her brown gelding alongside. Jenet had been here before, had brought her the message from Elisane and the others. The summons.

"Where is the Hall, Sister?" Kiam enquired, in her customary cool tones.

"There is no Hall, Eldest… they will not have built it yet." Jenet did her best to sound as calmly dispassionate as her leader, but could not keep the excitement from her voice. "When I came here before with your reply, there was not even the bridge, I had to cross by boat. I was told that it would be years before the main construction was complete, and for the time being, the Aes Sedai must make do with temporary structures. I hope I did right, in accepting the invitation on your behalf?"

Jenet flushed a little, further reddening her somewhat apple-cheeked face, and brushed a lock of pale hair out of her cornflower-blue eyes.

"You did well, Jenet," Kiam reassured her. It was true, the younger Aes Sedai had negotiated on her behalf to the best of her considerable ability. But… "It was no invitation, though, regardless of what they called it. It was a summons." A summons which could not be refused. Kiam had heard what had become of Lideine Rajan and her people. A stubborn, stupid woman, it was scarcely surprising… and Mailaine Harvole and the rest, made to kneel in abasement. Kiam would have liked to be there to see that! Clearly, Elisane and the others had no patience with those who wished to go their own way. Well, Kiam had gone her own way long enough. Which was why she was here, after all. "Lead on," she told Jenet. The younger Aes Sedai heeled her horse forward down the dirt track, her Shield-man, a dark, grim fellow, falling in at her side. Jenet had not come here alone before, the man stuck to her like a shadow, as was only right and proper. Ensuring her safety was his sole charge and duty.

Kiam followed on, the two score of Aes Sedai and their Shield-men trotting along behind her, as well as a dozen young apprentices. All of the Sisters had been born during the Breaking, there were none among them who remembered the War, or the halcyon days before hostilities broke out. Kiam had only been an Apprentice then, but she remembered. She remembered a lot. Too much. No wonder they called her 'Eldest!' She sighed, regretfully. She did not look her age, but the long years of the Breaking hung about her neck, invisible weights that seemed to drag her down.

Further along the track, they began to see fellow Aes Sedai. Their tents were a little better than those of the erstwhile citizens, less patched and larger, but they seemed to be existing more or less in the same rudimentary manner. Sisters stood outside of these tents, watching as they rode past with dark, considering eyes. No-one called out a greeting. Kiam supposed that they were waiting to see where she and her followers stood, hedging their bets for now. A very Aes Sedai thing to do.

Many of the others were already here by the looks of it, grouped into separate camps strewn about massive holes in the ground, faced with stone… foundations, she supposed that they must be. Enormous foundations, for what was to come.

It was then that Kiam saw her first Ogier. Emerging from one of the holes with a heavy mattock over his shoulder, standing head and shoulders taller than the tallest man in her following… long eyebrows and trailing moustaches, huge eyes the size of saucers, wearing drab, earth-coloured clothing of an odd cut. The Ogier became aware of Kiam's regard and bowed politely as she rode past.

"Aes Sedai," he rumbled, in acknowledgement.

Kiam inclined her head to him, and could not help but smile one of her rare, secretive smiles. So it was true… Elisane had found Ogier to build her city! She had feared that the Brothers to the Trees were all dead, lost to the War and the Breaking, as so much else had been. But no, there were several more of them up ahead, engaged in their labours… Ogier! It raised her spirits to see them.

A patrol of a dozen young Sisters rode past, each Aes Sedai attended by two or three swordsmen, grim, competent men with their Power-wrought blades hanging at hip or back, though Kiam noted that several of the young, war-like Aes Sedai had swords also, hung at the pommels of their saddles. She expected that they were some of Karella Fanway's followers, she had heard stories about them. Their guardians were called 'Ward-men' apparently and each wore a fancloth cloak as the badge of his office. The cloaks looked new, she supposed that they must have found a loom-ter'angreal for making the substance. Kiam considered the days – so long ago! – that she had worn fancloth. And sighed, ruefully. Old battle capes!

Kiam frowned at the sight of the martial Aes Sedai as they passed on either side. They had to be kept in curb, those women – yet another important point that she would have to raise with Elisane – for it was vital to her grand plan that the people came to trust them again, were not moved to obedience by sheer force of arms but by respect for those who would re-light the beacon of civilisation, and begin to rebuild their shattered world. It might even be necessary to take oaths… Salindi Casolan was always speaking of the necessity, she had heard.

Karella called her soldiers Ward-men and there were many more of them than Kiam's Shield-men… other groups had begun the practice also, calling their own swordsmen Ward-men also, in imitation of Karella's practice. Kiam supposed that her own Shield-men would, if agreement was reached and they became every Sister's guard, have to change their names to Ward-men also… though she thought that sounded too close to 'Warmen' – she had never much cared for the fellows – perhaps it should be shortened to 'Warder?' But she preferred the name she had given her own guards. Names were important. They carried significance.

Kiam had once known a man – a Shield-man – with a great many names… and she had always called him by the rudest of them! By the very first name he had ever had. She had always thought that it was important to remind him of who… of what, he was. Not to be cruel… well, at least not after the early days of their acquaintance… she had continued the practice of addressing the Lightborn by this term because she had wished to provide him with a constant reminder, long after the other War-Sisters and Warmen had ceased calling him it behind his back as well as to his face, using either 'Shieldman' or 'Gholam-Killer.' Only Latra Posae Decume, Aes Sedai, had ever called him 'N'aethan.' Kiam wished that she had, at least once.

Ahead, beyond the foundations, stood a row of large, barn-like structures. Numerous Sisters had emerged and were standing, waiting for them. An Aes Sedai, a tall, slender woman with dark hair and deep blue eyes, stepped forward from the throng to meet her. She smiled, impishly. "Hello, Ki-Ki."

Kiam grinned with unaccustomed pleasure. "Mitsy!" She slipped from Satin's back, drifted to the ground and taking three swift steps, swept her old friend up in an enthusiastic hug, lifting her a little into the air.

"Oof! Put me down, you know I don't like heights!"

Kiam released the Source and their heels thudded to earth. Kiam was aware of the interested eyes of her followers upon them so did not say a number of the things she could have, confining herself to; "and I thought that you were dead!"

"Not yet I am not." Mitsora Caal, Aes Sedai, looked her up and down. "You haven't changed a bit." This was not strictly speaking true, but good to hear in any case. "I am glad to see that you still speak your mind, Kiam." She did not use the silly diminutive this time, for which Kiam was glad. Mitsora had only made it up as revenge for being called 'Mitsy' so often.

"Oh, I'm known for speaking my mind. Mitsora. Did Elisane send you?"

"No, I'm here of my own accord. Though our Amyrlin does wish to see you."

" 'Amyrlin.' What a strange title. Why not just 'Tamyrlin?' "

"As a reminder that we are not what we were, I suppose."

"That we are not." Kiam frowned.

Mitsora shrugged. "But we can recover some of our lost grandeur… and this is the place where it will happen." She turned slightly, gestured expansively at the huge foundations. "Welcome. Welcome to Tar Valon."

Kiam Lopiang smiled at her seven assembled Sisters, sat around the long table. "Well, here we all are then," she observed, "a room full of tired old women."

Elisane Tishar smiled, inclining her head as though it were a compliment. A couple of the other Sisters frowned, and Karella Fanway snorted. "Speak for yourself, Kiam," she declared, fixing the Aes Sedai she had stood Apprentice alongside with a flashing, green-eyed stare. "I still have a good few years left in me!" Kiam smirked slightly. Karella's hair was as red as it had ever been, thin lines forming to either side of her tilted, emerald eyes, the only sign of her advanced age.

A seat awaited Kiam, but she did not sit yet. That would suggest that she was ready to join them, and she was not. There were matters to be discussed first, so she remained standing, despite the penitent connotations of doing so.

"Tell me of the Ajah," she requested. Perhaps more of a demand than a request, in truth.

Elisane's smile remained, as ever, on her face, a soft curve of the lip expressing patience and good humour. Both of which she had in seemingly endless supply. "What do you wish to know, Kiam?" she enquired.

"I wish to know whether the rumours are true… that you have reconstituted the Great Ajah that were made to wage war?"

Elisane spread her hands and shook her head sorrowfully. "They are gone, lost to the wars and the Breaking. What was cannot be remade." Elisane glanced to her left where Mitsora Caal sat and at this cue, Kiam's friend spoke.

"This is the new way. I lead the Blue Ajah. We make Causes our reason for existence… we fight for justice and decency." Mitsora spoke proudly, even a little arrogantly. A snorting sound came from the other side of the table, and all eyes turned to Azille Narof. Kiam had been ignoring her up until this point, but now glanced in her direction. Azille hadn't changed much either, still a small, doll-like woman with a poisonous enough nature for someone twice her size.

"You have something to say, dear Azille?" Kiam enquired.

Azille scowled, her habitual expression, returning Kiam's gaze with dislike. "Alright, I'll be next, if you insist upon this," she growled. "I head the Red Ajah. We were the Blood Ajah, but all things change." Her tone more than suggested that the change was but a minor, cosmetic one. "As you know, we make it our business to track down and eliminate the madmen who plague us." Her smile was, like herself, nasty. "And we are very good at it."

Kiam nodded. The rumours had told her as much, but it was good to have them confirmed. "I am sure that you are."

Salindi Casolan spoke next, smoothly filling the uncomfortable silence that existed between Kiam and her old enemy. "My followers are the Grey Ajah, neither black nor white, but admitting of both positions. We mediate, and we advise." She inclined her head, a slender, willowy woman, her dark hair coiled atop her brow in an antique style. "This meeting was my idea," she added. It might have been a rather smug thing to say, but she was merely stating a fact.

"I lead the Brown Ajah," said Saraline Amerano, a short, round woman with pale, myopic eyes. "It is our purpose to preserve the past and restore that which can be restored. We have recovered a number of lost ter'angreal and brought them here, for the furtherance of knowledge and also, I hope, for the testing of new initiates, for while we may not be able to reinstate the Grand Hall of Servants or the Academy, it is my hope that in the future…"

Kiam stifled a smile. Saraline hadn't changed! Still capable of producing improbably long sentences on but one breath of air!

"…so that our Apprentices will be of a standard that, when Raised, they will not bring dishonour to the name of Aes Sedai." Saraline nodded, firmly.

"Thank you Sister," said Elisane, and nodded to a tall, blonde woman whom Kiam did not know. She must be Dumera Alman, by process of elimination.

Dumera rose from her chair. "I head the Yellow Ajah," she said proudly. "We Heal." She left it at that, and resumed her seat. Kiam had heard that Dumera had been with the Medical Ajah during the wars. It seemed that little had changed.

Which left Karella. She smiled lazily at Kiam from across the table. "My people are the Green Ajah," she drawled. "The Battle Ajah. Need I say more?"

"You need not, Karella." Kiam turned to Elisane. "Which leaves you, Elisane. Or should I say 'Mother?' "

"That is for you to decide, Kiam."

"I think that it has already been decided, that you are the… what was it? The Amyrlin Seat?"

Elisane's smile did not slip. She patted the arm of the ornate sung-wood chair she occupied. "For the time being, this is the seat, Kiam. Because I am sitting in it."

"But you are the Amyrlin?"

"That is my title, true. My Sisters have been good enough to request that I fill the role of leader to them. I have acceded."

Azille Narof did not seem disposed to second this sentiment but the others rose from their chairs and bowed their heads to Elisane Tishar. Mitsora glared at Azille until she too rose, jerking her head in an ill-mannered semblance of obedience.

"It was the Mother's idea," stated Salindi, "to gather, and to rebuild. She brought us together, to this place, where we can begin anew."

"I would not give my allegiance to anyone else," added Karella.

"And now you ask it of me," said Kiam. "And were I to refuse, would I be severed, like Lideine?"

"We don't call it that," Saraline corrected her, "a sentence of stilling was passed on her. 'Stilling,' that is what it is called now."

"Stilling, then." Kiam fixed Elisane with a cold eye. "The price of disobedience?"

Elisane shook her head. "Lideine Rajan led her followers against us and did violence. They claimed to be Sisters when, for the most part, they were but half-trained wilders. Lideine refused to give up the name of Aes Sedai, for all that her actions brought the rest of us into disrepute. For that, she was stilled."

"And if my followers and I go our own way, and continue to call ourselves Aes Sedai?"

Kiam concentrated. This was the moment of truth.

Elisane's smile took on a regretful cast. "Then you, too, will be stilled."

Kiam smiled. "Good! I am glad to see that you stick to your guns, Elisane. That is to say; 'Mother.' " She took the seat at the table that had been waiting for her. The others seated themselves also. "Very well. You all know me, but what you do not know is that I head the White Ajah. We devote ourselves to the application of logic in solving the problems that confront us." Kiam eyed Azille. "And we are very good at it also." Azille's scowl intensified. Kiam ignored her. "And now that that is out of the way… do you think that we might be permitted to put our clothes back on?"

"Am I to take it that all of our future meetings will be conducted in the nude?" Kiam enquired of Mitsora, afterwards. They were alone, outside, standing beside one of the enormous foundations, dug deep into the bedrock of the island.

"It was Salindi's idea," said Mitsora, with a slight blush. "To meet clad in the Light. To prove that we are women, to avoid male channelers encroaching on us."

"That scarcely seems very likely," Kiam muttered, fumbling with a final button on her gown. Mitsora pushed her fingers out of the way and did it up for her. "Thank-you, Mitsy. There is to be a further meeting I believe?"

"There is. We must all make a contribution to the Tower."

"What tower?"

"The White Tower, that is to be built here, of course. Did not Salindi mention it to you?"

"No. She was too busy gloating over the number of Sisters of her… what was it? Grey Ajah?"

"Yes."

"The number of Sisters she has placed as advisors to petty kings and chieftains, across the land. She is clearly a woman who enjoys her influence."

"Oh, Salindi isn't too bad, for a politician. She has a good head on her shoulders. You know who we should be worried about, of course."

"Azille."

"Yes. Loathsome little reptile. I wish she had gone against the Amyrlin as the others did. I would have enjoyed seeing her stilled." Mitsora smiled grimly.

Kiam nodded, considering. Unfortunately, Azille and her people were necessary. There were still male channelers troubling the world, a great number of them, for all that the last of the Companions were long dead. She had personally seen to it that three of them were, after all. One more than the Lightborn! She had won that contest. A pity that there was no way to tell him of it. Or was there? Her eyes moved over to Saraline's encampment, where numerous carts were drawn up, loaded down with ter'angreal of all shapes and sizes. Some of them she recognised; the three joined hoops of a Tester and the oval ring of a Manifester, which she assumed were to be for the training of Apprentices. She pitied the poor girls. But also, stuffed into the back of a cart, an array of crystalline tubes growing from a marble plinth… a Messenger. So, perhaps there was a way to send the Lightborn a message after all. She would think on it…

But for the time being, her thoughts dwelt on Azille Narof, and her followers. The Red Ajah now, but still the Blood Ajah beneath the surface, she suspected. The choice of that particular colour had not been happenstance, surely. There was something about those women… she had heard the stories, seen it with her own eyes, on one occasion... they let hatred rule them. Kiam did not hate the male channelers she killed, it was a necessary service to give them mercy and save others from their destructive power. This Blood Ajah, as they had informally called themselves, seemed to enjoy the hunting and hurting a little too much… it would only lead them to the Shadow, if it went unchecked.

The colour of their Ajah, though… the colour of blood. It had given her the idea, concerning her own followers… like those old tcheran games she had played with the Lightborn, he always the black claw against she, the white tooth…

"What are you thinking about, Kiam?" Mitsora asked.

"Colours. The significance of colours."

"Yes. Interesting that you chose white. It is to be a White Tower, you see."

"Does that give me some advantage over the rest of the Ajah?"

"Possibly… but probably not, though."

Kiam smiled. "Perhaps there will be a Black Ajah, to balance against us?"

"I should hope not." Mitsora shivered slightly. "Shadows are black."

Summoned to a second meeting, Kiam considered the younger Sisters in the room. Salindi and Saraline… they had never known a time when 'Aes Sedai' did not automatically mean 'woman.'

Which reminded her. With a sigh, Kiam removed her gown, her leggings, her shift, standing bare before the others. "I am a woman," she declared, adding; "is it necessary to conduct the rest of this meeting naked?" The others, equally unclothed, eyed each other.

Salindi Casolan scowled. "There are certain ritualistic laws that must be observed… would you have a disguised male-channeler infiltrate the Hall?"

"This room is not the Hall, Salindi. This room is, I would expect, where the true power lies."

Elisane smiled. She was perhaps the most patient and good-natured person Kiam had ever met, and the catastrophic years she had lived through, led her followers through, did not seem to have had the slightest impact on her mellow nature. But then, she was ta'veren. That probably had something to do with it… though there was one person who had managed to once infuriate her, it was reported. The Lightborn.

"As cynical as ever, dearest Kiam," said Elisane, "but you make a fair point. I think, Sisters, that having proved our womanhood to each other, we might resume our garments, and perhaps even some trace of our dignity?"

A murmur of agreement, Dumera and Saraline scrambling back into their woollens with every sign of relief, though neither Azille nor Karella looked particularly concerned either way, as they shrugged into their robes. Kiam slipped her gown back on and took her seat, at the opposite end of the table from Elisane. She crossed her arms. What now?

"Sisters," said Elisane Tishar, "I call upon you to make a contribution from your respective Ajah, for the betterment and benefit of the Tower."

Saraline rose, her face unaccustomedly flushed. "My followers and I gathered numerous ter'angreal in our wanderings which I am only too happy to donate to the White Tower. Among them are a Tester and a Manifester…"

Azille snorted. "What good are those?"

Saraline bristled. "They will prove invaluable for the training of our apprentices, for deciding which of them are fit to hold the rank of Aes Sedai."

Elisane nodded placatingly. "Indeed they will, Saraline. You and your people did well to preserve these items from the Time of Madness."

Satisfied, Saraline resumed her seat. Dumera rose.

"I, too, have a ter'angreal to contribute, a powerful Healing device. It should prove of value in the years to come."

Dumera did not sound entirely convinced of this, Kiam thought.

Salindi was next. She produced a short, pale rod, marked with arcane symbols and numerals.

"What use is a Binding Rod?" Azille demanded, contemptuously.

"It may be of great use, Azille," Salindi responded smoothly. "There may be a day in years to come when Aes Sedai will be required to swear oaths upon this rod, binding them to serve."

"And shortening their own lifespans in so doing?" Azille sneered. "Madness!"

"We shall see." Salindi set the rod firmly down on the table.

Karella, Mitsora and Azille all had angreal to contribute, respectively; a brooch in the shape of a sword, a statuette of a cowled woman and a blood-red gem. And then it was Kiam's turn. She took the fluted, ivory wand from her belt-pouch and held it aloft. There was a stir amongst her Sisters, those who recognised it.

"Vora's Sa'angreal!"

"I had heard that it was lost!"

Kiam shook her head. "It was not lost. I have kept it close by me these many years. May it benefit the Tower in days to come."

Dumera took it from her reverently. "This should be used for Healing, rather than harm."

"I have never much used it for that purpose myself," said Kiam, "and neither did Vora, for whom it was named. I would like it to continue to be known as 'Vora's Sa'angreal' in memory of her. It was her testament to me, as she lay dying from a Darkhound's venom."

"That was your story, at least," said Azille, snidely.

Kiam fixed her with a cold gaze. "The other who fought with me that day witnessed the testament. I tell you, I received the sa'angreal from Vora's own hands!"

"And who was this witness, then?" Azille wanted to know. Elisane rose from her chair, to promote peace perhaps. The others were all watching Kiam.

Kiam raised her head proudly. "Sin'aethan Shadar Cor," she said.

Saraline reacted with excitement. "The Lightborn!"

Azille sneered. "The abomination! A fine witness for a fine gift!"

"Azille!" There was a snap to Elisane's voice. She continued smoothly, though her gaze was icy. "You are correct that this is a fine gift, a generous donation to the Tower indeed. It ill becomes you to question the provenance of Vora's Sa'angreal further. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly clear, Mother," Azille muttered, after several seconds of not quite being able to meet Elisane's eyes. She resumed her seat, gazing down at hands folded in her lap. Kiam raised her eyebrows. Elisane was indeed ta'veren, to overawe Azille with such ease.

Saraline had taken the sa'angreal from Dumera, who seemed reluctant to let it go, and was turning it over in her hands. "I feel the power of it," she whispered, before raising her gaze to Kiam, her pale eyes not at all vague for once. "You say the Lightborn stood with you on the day of Vora's death?"

"He did. We avenged her, fighting side by side. Not one of the Darkhounds escaped." Even centuries later, Kiam's memories of that horrible day were still bright and vivid. She remembered the blood most of all.

"I have heard tales of Sin'aethan Shadar Cor, but never had the good fortune to meet him. What was he like?" Saraline passed Vora's Sa'angreal to Elisane and produced a small notebook and pencil from her belt pouch. Kiam blinked. Did Saraline think she was in the Lore Ajah?

Elisane smiled, setting the sa'angreal down on the table in front of her. "Perhaps now is not the time for such queries. Though I knew the Last Lightborn also, as did Mitsora, I think. Oh, and you knew him also, did you not, Karella?"

Karella smiled a lazy smile, reclining with one leg flung over the arm of her chair. "Oh, I knew him very well, for a while at least. I still miss the fellow. But you and he were inseparable, Kiam. Whatever happened to him?"

Saraline had resumed her seat, pencil poised over a blank page. "I heard that he fell in battle with the once-Companion to the Dragon, Haindar Javagd?"

Kiam shook her head decisively. "That he did not. I slew Haindar myself, incidentally." Saraline scribbled this detail down. Kiam sighed.

"I killed a Companion too," Azille announced.

Kiam smiled coolly at her. "And did you kill three, dear Azille? I did."

Azille scowled, but did not respond.

"Three Companions. One more than the Lightborn managed. We made a sort of contest of it, and I won." Kiam shrugged. "Although the Lightborn did manage to kill a Gholam, which I never did, so I suppose it fell out even in the end."

"What is a Gholam?" Salindi enquired, and was ignored.

"But the Lightborn – what was he like?" Saraline insisted.

"Infuriating. A terrible player of tcheran. Kind to small Aiel children. Unkind to the Shadow, extremely so." Kiam spread her hands, allowing her impatience to reveal itself. "What is the purpose of this, Saraline? The Lightborn went into darkness long ago, and did not emerge. He is lost to us, let his posterity fade into legend become myth. Believe me, it is what he would have wanted."

"True," Elisane agreed, "he was always most self-effacing."

"For a Hero," Mitsora added, with a touch of regret.

"A Hero who never wanted to be a Hero," Karella muttered, "that was about the most infuriating thing about him. That and the damned bad dreams. Used to wake me up in the middle of the night, scrabbling about, trying to chase things that weren't there…" Karella became aware that she was being eyed with disapproval by some of her Sisters. "Well he did!" she exclaimed.

Kiam leaned over and firmly closed the cover of Saraline's notebook. "Let the Lightborn rest in peace," she stated, "we owe him that much."

"I met him once also," Azille muttered. "Didn't care for him one bit."

A cool evening breeze was blowing across the island. Kiam gathered her cloak about her shoulders, watching as the Ogier set down their tools for the day and strode toward the camp fires. She looked up, attempting to imagine a tall, white tower soaring high above her head. She had the strangest feeling that after the long years of wandering, she had finally come home.

What would the Lightborn say, if he could see her now? He would have found the ridiculous rule about meeting clad in the Light most amusing, certainly… closing her eyes, Kiam could almost hear his odd, mewling laughter, ringing in her ears, as it had so often. She smiled.

It had been three hundred years, but she still found herself occasionally missing the Lightborn. It had been a strange relationship, wary and guarded, certainly not friendly, but… sometimes, surprisingly enjoyable. He had been a worthy adversary, someone to test herself against. Not at tcheran, obviously, but in many other spheres. A very strong, formidable personality in many ways – and yet, oddly vulnerable and uncertain of himself at times. It was hardly surprising, given his provenance. The accursed Defector – he should have been stopped! Though she was glad he had not been, in a way. She had never met the other Lightborn, they had both been destroyed in the War, but she had heard the stories, from those who had known them. They sounded much like their Brother. True servants of the Light, all of them. If Chaime Kufer Mors, Aes Sedai, had done anything right in his misspent, Shadow-compromised life, then it was the making of his three Sons, she supposed. And the Lighthound as well, she had rather liked the animal – though the Lightborn had not! But the youngest Son in particular. So formidable – and yet, so vulnerable! She remembered the day she had suggested that the Lightborn take his gloves off…

Kiam had not told the others about the stasis box as she regarded it to be a secret, and secrets were not for sharing. Let the Lightborn wake in his own appointed time, at some future date. She would see to it that there were still Aes Sedai in the world to command him, and be infuriated by him! She thought of that last infuriation, perpetrated on her by the Lightborn, when he had sabotaged her grid-map and led her in meandering circles through the ruined lands all morning, before disappearing on his mission. He had left a taunting note behind that she had not found until several days later. Kiam reached into the bottom of her belt pouch and withdrew an ancient scrap of paper. Were it not for the Keeping woven on it, the spiky, jagged lettering would have long-ago faded from the page. Smiling slightly, she read the familiar words;

Dear Kiam Sedai

I hear that you have been walking in circles all day? Did you find the Black College? I hope that your feet did not get too wet when you did! I think that I am going to try to kill the ex-Companion Haindar and then it will be Lightborn THREE, Kiam only TWO! Unless I fail, in which case it will be Lightborn DEAD, Kiam still only TWO! Whatever happens, I do not think we will see each other again, so I would like you to know that it was me who sneaked into your dome all those years and left the Birthing-Day Blossoms! Sorry! But you know what a terrible joker I am! I would also like you to know that while I will miss you, Kiam Lopiang Aes Sedai, I will not miss the tcheran games one bit! The Queen is lost! But King N'aethan isn't!

Yours affectionately

'the Lightborn'

Kiam carefully folded the note and replaced it in her pouch.

Whatever the future holds for you, Lightborn, I hope that it contains something pleasant, for you have earned that many times over.

Kiam turned, and walked down to the fires.