Amadaine 2, 998 NE (June 9th)
Young as I was, I was taller than most men, but Lan stood just as tall and more heavily muscled, if not quite so broad in the shoulders. A narrow band of braided leather held the Warder's long hair back from his face, a face that seemed made from stony planes and angles, a face unlined as if to belie the tinge of gray at his temples. Despite the heat and exertion, only a light coat of sweat glistened on his chest and arms. I searched Lan's icy blue eyes, hunting for some hint of what the other man intended. The Warder never seemed to blink, and the practice sword in his hands moved surely and smoothly as he flowed from one stance to another.
With a bundle of thin, loosely bound staves in place of a blade, the practice sword would make a loud clack when it struck anything, and left a welt where it hit flesh. I had learned this all too well over the last month. A red line stung on my ribs, and another burned my shoulder. It had taken all my efforts not to wear more decorations. Lan bore not a mark, of course.
Stripped to my waist I shivered at the wind's cold caress and flexed my fingers on the long hilt of the practice sword I held. The hot sun and hours of practice had slicked my chest, and my dark, reddish hair clung to my head and neck in a sweat-curled mat. A faint odor of decay in the swirl of air made my nose twitch, and the image of a freshly-open grave appeared in my mind. I was barely aware of odor or image at all; I strove to keep my mind empty, but the other man sharing the tower top with me kept intruding on the emptiness. Ten paces across, the tower top was encircled by a chest-high, crenelated wall. Big enough and more not to feel crowded, except when shared with a Warder.
I had already formed a single flame in my mind and concentrated on it, to feed all emotion and passion into it, to form a void within myself, then the ko'di came, an imperfect Oneness; saidin glowed and sung to be used through the stillness. But it was easy enough after all the practice. The cool peace of the void crept over me, and I was one with the practice sword, with the smooth stones under my boots, even with Lan. All was one, and I moved without thought in a rhythm that matched the Warder's step for step and move for move.
The wind rose again, bringing the ringing of bells from the town. Somebody's still celebrating that spring has finally come. The extraneous thought fluttered through the Oneness on waves of light, though I cracked down tight and choked the thought. As if the Warder could read my mind like an open book, ko'di or no ko'di, the practice sword whirled in Lan's hands.
For a long minute the swift clack-clack-clack of bundled lathes meeting filled the tower top. I made much effort to reach the other man, but it took much of my concentration to keep the Warder's strikes from reaching me. Turning Lan's blows, I was forced back. Lan's expression never changed; the practice sword seemed alive in his hands. Abruptly the Warder's swinging slash changed in mid-motion to a thrust. I had not expected it, but I went to bat away the thrust before it could reach me and give me yet another welt.
The wind howled across the tower... and trapped me. It was as if the air had suddenly jelled, holding me in a cocoon. Pushing me forward. Time and motion slowed; horrified, I watched Lan's practice sword drift towards my chest as mine flew uselessly to the ground. There was nothing slow or soft about the impact, my ribs creaked as if I had been struck with a hammer. I grunted, but the wind would not allow me to give way; it still carried me forward, instead. The lathes of Lan's practice sword flexed and bent—ever so slowly, it seemed to me—then shattered, sharp points oozing toward my heart, jagged lathes piercing my skin. Pain lanced through my body; my whole skin felt slashed, and I burned as though the sun had flared to crisp me like bacon in a pan. With a shout, I finally threw myself back, falling against the stone wall. I touched the gashes on my chest and raised bloody fingers before my eyes in disbelief.
"And what was that fool move, sheepherder?" Lan grated. "You know better by now, or should unless you have forgotten everything I've tried to teach you. How badly are you—?" He cut off as I looked up at him.
"The wind." My mouth was dry from the experience. "It—it pushed me! It... It was solid as a wall! It held me there and made me feel horrendous pain. I thought I was burning alive before I could move away."
The Warder stared at me in silence, then offered a hand. I took it and let myself be pulled to my feet. "Strange things can happen this close to the Blight," Lan said finally, but for all the flatness of the words he sounded troubled. That in itself was strange. Warders, those half-legendary warriors who served the Aes Sedai, seldom showed emotion, and Lan showed little even for a Warder. He tossed the shattered lathe sword aside and leaned against the wall where our real swords lay, out of the way of their practice.
"Not like that," I protested. I joined the other man, squatting with his back against the stone. That way the top of the wall was higher than our heads, protection of a kind from the wind. If it was a wind. "No wind had ever felt... solid... like that, or caused by skin to feel sliced by a dozen knives. Peace! Maybe not even in the Blight does such a wind exist." Then I had a realization. "The Forsaken. One of them just tried to attack me." Lan gave me a look, something flashing in his eyes, but sighed.
"I'll tell Moiraine Sedai," he told me, making me bristle. It had been a week and two days since she revealed her betrayal, and the curse in the bond. As pretty and smart and surprisingly emotional she can be, I had to remind myself that I was angry with her on occasion. Yet it still hurt, what she had tried to do.
In the days that followed that horrible night and morning, I thought on it. And sometimes it made a sick kind of sense; that she would do such a thing, think it right. And other times it felt like my world had irrevocably cracked. Loial tried to claim my heart was broken, and Egwene did not disagree with him, when I brought up the notion to her. All I knew was that it hurt, far worse than the heron burn in my palm.
From the south came a faint peal of trumpets, a rolling fanfare slowly growing louder, accompanied by the steady thrum-thrum-THRUM-thrum of drums. For a moment, Lan and I still stared at each other, then the drums drew us to the tower wall to stare southward.
The city stood on high hills, the land around the city walls cleared to ankle height for a full mile in all directions, and the keep covered the highest hill of all. From the tower top, we had a clear view across the chimneys and roofs to the forest. The drummers appeared first from the trees, a dozen of them, drums lifting as they stepped to their own beat, mallets whirling. Next came trumpeters, long, shining horns raised, still calling the flourish. Even at that distance I could make out the huge, square banner whipping in the wind behind them; a swirl of colors that represented the Ajah, and at the heart of it, a shape like a pure white teardrop. I gasped. The Flame of Tar Valon, just like Egwene's hand tattoo and her shield. Are they here for me? There is no way Moiraine told them about me. From how she explained it, she would be worse than killed, cut off from channeling the One Power, for what she taught me. As for myself, I would be gentled. Did a servant see me? What did someone say to bring them here? Lan grunted, but said nothing to my gasp; the Warder had eyes like a snow eagle. There was no way he didn't see the banner.
I glanced at him, wondering if he would say anything, but the Warder said nothing, his eyes intent on the column emerging from the forest. Mounted men in armor rode out of the trees, and women ahorseback, too. Then a palanquin borne by horses, one before and one behind, its curtains down, and more men on horseback. Ranks of men afoot, pikes rising above them like a bristle of long thorns, and archers with their bows held slanted across their chests, all stepping to the drums. The trumpets cried again. Like a singing serpent the column wound its way toward Fal Dara.
"Ingtar's with them." Lan sounded as if his thoughts were elsewhere. "Back from his hunting at last. Been gone long enough. I wonder if he had any luck?"
"Aes Sedai," I whispered when I finally could. All those women out there… Moiraine was Aes Sedai, yes, but I had traveled with her, I bonded with her, I had trusted her and slept in the same bed as her, for Light's sake she was my wife! And she still had tried to betray me early on, and kept the truth from me. Aes Sedai were dangerous to a man like me, a man who could channel.
She was the only one, the only Aes Sedai I could trust, and even then I cannot trust her much, as she had proven. The White Tower were the ones that spun webs to snare rulers, and pulled strings on their puppet thrones, and what they would do to me… what they would take from me... So many Aes Sedai together, and coming like this, was something terrifying. Light burn Moiraine, they cannot be for me. I cleared my throat; when I spoke, my voice had a raspy grate to it. "Why so many, Lan? Why any at all? And with drums and trumpets and a banner to announce them."
I tried to count the women, but they kept no ranks or order, moving their horses around to converse with one another or with whoever was in the palanquin. Goosebumps covered me. I had traveled with Moiraine, and met another Aes Sedai, and I had begun to think of myself as worldly. Nobody ever left the Two Rivers, or almost nobody, but I had. I had seen things no one back in the Two Rivers had ever laid eyes on, done things they had only dreamed of, if they had dreamed so far. I had seen a queen and met the Daughter-Heir of Andor, faced a Myrddraal and traveled the Ways, I met a spirit of the Creator and channeled weaves that have not been seen in three thousand years, and none of it had prepared me for this moment.
"Why so many?" I whispered again.
"The Amyrlin Seat's come in person." Lan looked at him, his expression as hard and unreadable as a rock. "Your lessons are done, sheepherder. No picnics today." He paused then, and I almost thought there was sympathy on his face. Probably was. "Moiraine may not be able to protect you. It would have been better if we left a week ago and took the horn with us. But come. She will want to see you anyways, she must prepare you as best she can. As much as you'll let her."
I worked my mouth, trying to get a little moisture. I stared at the column approaching Fal Dara as if it really were a snake, a deadly viper. The drums and trumpets sang, loud in my ears. The Amyrlin Seat, who ordered the Aes Sedai. She's come because of me. I could think of no other reason. I stammered out, "Moiraine won't let her gentle me." It sounded weak even to my ears. The bond may protect me from Moiraine but it won't protect me from any other Aes Sedai.
"They were Novices and Accepted and raised to the shawl together, sheepherder, she's been bonded to you less than a month, for all she claims to be your wife behind closed doors." Lan spoke as if that was an answer worth giving, before he snatched up his shirt and disappeared down the ladder into the tower.
They knew things, had knowledge that could help me, of that I was sure. And I did not dare ask any of them, but Moiraine. I was afraid they had come to gentle me, but also afraid they haven't, too. Light, I don't know which scares me more, gentling or a collar. Moiraine is leash enough, as pretty and smart as she is.
With a start, I realized that the Aes Sedai party was entering the city gates. The wind swirled up fiercely, chilling my sweat like droplets of ice, making the trumpets sound like sly laughter; I thought I could smell an opened grave, strong in the air. My grave, if I keep standing here.
Grabbing my shirt, I followed Lan down the ladder where he waited for me. We followed the flow of servants and maids and noblewomen to the Women's Quarters all getting prepared for the imminent arrival of the Amyrlin Seat and however many dozen Aes Sedai. They still made us wait as they let Moiraine know we had arrived, long minutes of women staring and speaking about us audibly, about the Last King of Malkier and the man who stole his Aes Sedai's heart, the Exiled Southern Lord, half Aiel and fights like a devil.
It was all a bunch of dross that had been drummed up by Moiraine flaunting her closeness with me, kicked into overdrive by Mikeyo strategically waiting to reveal she slept in my room often until a week ago, and her decision to begin holding my hand when we walked the gardens and riding the same horse when we went on 'picnics', combined with the daily torture by Lan. I dread what her sisters will think of me, probably some kind of baby warder they can pick on, before they learn the true horror and gentle me. No, no. Moiraine cannot betray me. I laughed to myself a little bitterly. Not anymore.
Moiraine arrived then and ushered us quickly to her rooms. Egwene and Nynaeve stood there in fine dresses, green silk for Nynaeve and a blue for Egwene which fit her slim, delicate form, with dangling earrings of sapphires I recognized as Moiraines, and a bracelet studded with emeralds and rubies. She looked stunning.
A silk black shirt, fine black trousers, and a bright scarlet and gold jacket with black dragons embroidered curling down my arms twice and a much finer black leather sheath with wrought-silver dragons and herons for my sword lay on a settee for me, but for Lan there was nothing. Either because he's her Warder and does not need it, or because he simply is unwilling to put on a fashion show for her, I do not know which.
"Rand, into my bedroom. I need to make sure everything fits on you and time is not on our side." Moiraine spoke in a cool tone that brooked no argument. I frowned but followed the order.
I went and began quickly changing, staring into the mirror as I transformed from a typical young man into some kind of noble lord. It was truly bizarre how well Moiraine knew to dress me. I did not look like a shepherd at all, the dragons on my arm glinting in the morning light from the arrowslits and gold-chased stone statue of a woman holding an actual lit lamp. My hair was tied back, having grown quite quickly over the past month, more like three months of growth. The bold colors seemed to bring out the blue in my stormy eyes, and any childhood fat remaining in my face had been boiled by endless exercise leaving a handsome and dangerous young man with a sharp face, not a boy.
Moiraine came into the room without a knock, as usual playing her games as far as I am willing to let her, Egwene following quietly behind her. Moiraine stared at me with clinical eyes, but could not help the satisfaction sparking in the bond, though she played at cold often this past week, muted or buzzing in the bond. "You look all the way an exiled Southern Lord. Quite a fitting image, Lord Dragon." I couldn't help cringing at that name.
"Please don't tell me that people will call me that. I'd rather be Lord Rand any day of the week."
She ignored me, content to simply appreciate me now. It always made me squirm, though I had begun to get used to it, before... She always made sure the clothing looked good, in that clinical way, then just… looked, like a man looking at a woman he found beautiful. Nothing in my memories had prepared me for the opposite, and it was as uncomfortable as it was flattering. I guess we both consider each other pretty, I thought ruefully. If only she hadn't… I shook my head.
A calm smile and her tone took on a sweetness it had recently lacked. "You've done well this past month, Rand. Very well indeed. Lan has been florid with his praise of your efforts, in that he praised them at all. Whatever that sacred fire did, it has certainly made you into Warder material. That is not to mention my work with you, but I think you know how I feel about that."
I did. I could feel her relief, hope, and pride every time I got quicker and better at a weave, working not merely with strength but with finesse, slowly but surely becoming more dexterous with the One Power. I also felt her fear, receding each session.
"Power could win a lot of battles," she told me more than once, "But a more dexterous channeler could kill you before you get a weave out, or exploit a weakness, or simply be faster, forcing a loss."
Moiraine kissed me when she figured out opening a Door worked. It made my stomach squirm, thinking of that kiss. It was nice. It was really nice, but it was given to me by Moiraine, and I could not help feeling uncomfortable with her. A spring day, the 26th of Saven, in a clearing of yellow flowers called suncatchers, the air dimpled and a black door appeared. Moiraine shouted in victory, before ordering me to bend down, taking my head in her hands and planting a long kiss on my lips. Egwene shouted and beat at me in the moment and when she decided I still thought about it, days later. Unfortunately, she was usually correct.
Such a Weave would be so vital to the White Tower as to completely change everything about how they worked. We studied it once a day until the 26th. Days of traveling between her room and the clearing until she figured out how to guide saidar in a way that would not cause the portal to instantly collapse with a thunderclap or pull on her soul in some unsettling way she would not explain. The female version of a Door also had nothing to do with Fire and Spirit tearing a hole through the Pattern in the least, instead being an intricate web of Air, Water and Spirit that connected parts of the Pattern together. She rode a delicate looking stone flower that made me feel embarrassed for my horse cart. Egwene, though, said the cart made her nostalgic. Truly though, some of my gifts were boons as much as some were curses. Some.
I had no doubt that Moiraine had done a flurry of Dooring all over the place, pulling strings and setting up new plots for me, without telling me of course. I brought myself back to the room.
"I feel ready. I feel prepared. I just worry. I cannot help feeling they are here for me." I breathed, in through the nose, out through pursed lips.
"If they are here for you, then we will simply go to the Two Rivers, or Caemlyn or any other place we have been. They cannot catch us, not with your Door," Egwene comforted me.
"Rand, we need to discuss something." Moiraine with a cool voice once more, the bond muted but not buzzing. I frowned and nodded.
"Go ahead. But we will discuss it."
She sighed, before schooling herself. Egwene sat herself next to me and tried to adopt the cool confidence of the Aes Sedai with some middling success. I wrapped an arm around her and squeezed, getting a squawk and decent punch on the arm.
"I think it would be best if you accompanied me as my second Warder to my inevitable meeting with the Amyrlin Seat." She continued before I could voice protest. "It would be embarrassing of me to be having a tiff with my lover, but pretty normal for a new Warder 'chosen in the wild', as the Green's would say. It is dangerous for me to lose face, given my already eclectic history. Only my strength keeps the Sitters from calling me back."
I considered what she said. Moiraine had told me Aes Sedai considered strength a marker of rank and she was one of the highest. "Aren't I already basically a Warder-in-training?"
"Official Warders are protected from the predation of other sisters. Otherwise I must fear a Green trying to bond you, for you are too pretty and too strong. I would not have one of my sisters bond you. Not unless they are fated, and even then after a close vetting to make sure they are not Black Ajah."
Egwene agreed, "If you must officially be her Warder to protect you from other Aes Sedai, I can accept that. We both know I'm the first wife." She said, as smirked at Moiraine and nuzzled me.
"Meeting the Amyrlin, surrounded by Aes Sedai, just to save face and prevent one of your sisters from bonding me. What's the next reason?"
"I want you as my Warder. I desire it personally." I made a hand motion for her to continue and she adopted a moue of annoyance. "It will allow us to act freely when we leave with the Amyrlin's party. Which is inevitable, even if you protest. She will not let me leave without accompanying her. Otherwise I will be continually embarrassed, running around with little better than a youngling." Don't know what that is, but I can accept the rest.
"Okay. Then I'll agree. But I want to use the Door to go to my father's farm, and let him know everything. We'll go tonight." I nodded to myself. I had been itching to go, and Moiraine had deemed it 'unsafe' as spies for the Shadow could be watching the Two Rivers. I think she was just scared of meeting my father.
Moiraine calmly replied, "I will be busy tonight, most likely."
"Even better," chirped Egwene, "me and Rand will go together."
"I do not know if that is—"
"We will go, and you will stay behind to accomplish the business you have to do with your fellow Aes Sedai. I will be your second Warder, to protect me and your pride. It is decided."
Moiraine gave a demure nod and murmured, "As my Lord Dragon commands."
I bristled, my mouth twisting. Egwene's comforting presence kept it shut. I must get used to it. Others will use the title, eventually. We left the room and found Nynaeve staring daggers at a stoic Lan, as usual when they were left alone for any long period of time. The entire way to the courtyard of the main gate Lan spoke quietly to me of how to conduct myself in front of the Amyrlin; what to say, what to do, how to walk and stand. There were a number of things and my focus was split between Lan and navigating the crush of people moving in the same direction as our group, so I only caught maybe half.
Just inside the main gate, a line of men stood beside their horses, fourteen of them. No two wore the same kind of armor or carried the same sort of sword, and none looked like Lan, but I did not doubt they were Warders. Round faces, square faces, long faces, narrow faces, they all had the look, as if they saw things other men did not see, heard things other men did not hear. Standing at their ease, they looked as deadly as a pack of wolves. Only one other thing about them was alike. One and all they wore the color-shifting cloak I had first seen on Lan, the cloak that often seemed to fade into whatever was behind it. It did not make for easy watching or a still stomach, so many men in those cloaks.
A dozen paces in front of the Warders, a row of women stood by their horses' heads, the cowls of their cloaks thrown back. I could count them, now. Fourteen. Fourteen Aes Sedai. They must be. Tall and short, slender and plump, dark and fair, hair cut short or long, hanging loose down their backs or braided, their clothes were as different as the Warders' were, in as many cuts and colors as there were women. Yet they, too, had a sameness, one that was only obvious when they stood together like this. To a woman, they seemed ageless. From this distance I would have called them all young, but closer I knew they would be like Moiraine. Young-seeming yet not, smooth-skinned but with faces too mature for youth, eyes too knowing.
Calmly the Aes Sedai ignored the onlookers and kept their attention on the curtained palanquin, now in the center of the courtyard. The horses bearing it held as still as if ostlers stood at their harness, but there was only one tall woman beside the palanquin, her face an Aes Sedai's face, and she paid no mind to the horses. The staff she held upright before her with both hands was as tall as she, the gilded flame capping it standing above her eyes.
Lord Agelmar faced the palanquin from the far end of the court, bluff and square and face unreadable. His high-collared coat of dark blue bore the three running red foxes of the House Jagad as well as the stooping black hawk of Shienar. Beside him stood Ronan, age-withered but still tall; three foxes carved from red avatine topped the tall staff the shambayan bore. Ronan was Elansu's equal in ordering the keep, shambayan and shatayan, but Elansu left little for him except ceremonies and acting as Lord Agelmar's secretary. Both men's topknots were snow-white.
All of them—the Warders, the Aes Sedai, the Lord of Fal Dara, and his shambayan—stood as still as stone. The watching crowd seemed to hold its breath.
Suddenly Ronan rapped his staff loudly three times on the broad paving stones, calling into the silence, "Who comes here? Who comes here? Who comes here?"
The woman beside the palanquin tapped her staff three times in reply. "The Watcher of the Seals. The Flame of Tar Valon. The Amyrlin Seat." I squeezed Egwene's hand tight and Moiraine took a step closer to my side.
"Why should we watch?" Ronan demanded.
"For the hope of humankind," the tall woman replied.
"Against what do we guard?"
"The shadow at noon."
"How long shall we guard?"
"From rising sun to rising sun, so long as the Wheel of Time turns."
Agelmar bowed, his white topknot stirring in the breeze. "Fal Dara offers bread and salt and welcome. Welcome is the Amyrlin Seat to Fal Dara, for here is the watch kept, here is the Pact maintained. Welcome."
The tall woman drew back the curtain of the palanquin, and the Amyrlin Seat stepped out. Dark-haired, ageless as all Aes Sedai were ageless, she ran her eyes over the assembled watchers as she straightened. When her gaze caught me I felt like I was pinned to a wall, examined by something down to my soul, and then her gazed passed and I was fine again. Light, that wasn't some kind of Weave, or I would have felt it. What was that? That is the woman Moiraine wants me to meet, to be stuck in a room with those eyes that can see my soul! I am not ready.