Tamaz 8, 998 NE (July 14th)
I was already awake when Lan knocked on Min's door, unwilling to just barge in unlike Moiraine's room. I'd had another music dream; others surrounded me in a raucous massive tavern more like a cavern than any proper building, while music played, starting quiet and picking up, a strong drum and strange stringed instruments blaring behind a man's rugged voice.
Keep you in the darkYou know they all pretend
Keep you in the dark
And so it all began Send in your skeletons
Sing as their bones go marching in again
They need you buried deep
The secrets that you keep are ever ready
Are you ready? I'm finished making sense
Done pleading ignorance
That whole defense Spinning infinity, boy
The wheel is spinning me
It's never-ending, never-ending
Same old story What if I say I'm not like the others?
What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?
You're the pretender
What if I say I will never surrender?
I could already tell Moiraine would have a field day with the references to the Wheel of Time, and the endless cycle of the Ages, a pretender, and surrender. Plus, it was a catchy tune. I really needed to pick up a bittern and learn to play, since the strange instruments are like
"What if I say I'm not like the others? What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays? You're the pretender. What if I say I will never surrender?" I sang softly, to a sleepy Min, curled up cutely beside me.
"Don't go," she whined, clutching at my arm.
I bent down to kiss her. "I'll be back for lunch, then dinner." She hungrily encouraged the kiss, running a hand around my waist.
"Or you could skip and I could—"
Lan knocked once again. "I will come in there, scales."
I batted her hand away gently and got up, to a groan of displeasure. "I'm getting up, Lan," I called out. "I'm sorry, Min, but I need to train. I won't have near as much time as a king."
"Your loss, sheepherder," she pouted.
I put on my training clothes, and after a moment, stuck my tiger angreal in my pocket. You never know when it will be useful, I thought.
The farmer's field somewhere east of Whitebridge stretched out before Lan and I, bathed in the golden hues of the rising sun. The air was thick with the earthy scent of freshly turned soil, mingling with the sweet aroma of ripening corn. The sound of birdsong filled the air, mixing with the rhythmic thud of my feet against the ground. As I ran, the stalks brushed against my armor, like they were whispering secrets in their rustling wake. The weight of the armor pressed against my body, adding to the intensity of the workout, while beads of sweat trickled down my brow, a testament to my exertion. There was a sense of exhilaration in the challenge, as if the field itself was testing my limits.
"And what do you folks think you are doing?" a farmer, an older man with a straw hat, called out from the back of an old plow horse. "Trampling a man's cornfield? Dressed up like you're fighting a war? What sort of nonsense is this?"
"I am training my fellow Warder," Lan said idly, to the man's utter surprise. "The even rows make it a good spot for repetitive exercises, and simulating combat in hallways."
"You're a Warder? Aye, I can see the danger in your eyes." He spat off to the side. "Pah! Like I believe you. Warder! Foolish nonsense, you two must be bandits. Strange bandits, but bandits."
Lan pulled a purse from somewhere. "I'd like to rent your field for the morning."
The man snorted. "Definitely bandits." But he took the purse, and let us continue, watching from his horse. For another half hour I ran, before Lan stopped me. Then we sparred, Lan making us stop every time I nicked a plant or stepped too close to the stalks.
"You cannot swing your sword so wildly inside an enclosed space. You must learn to fight tightly," he told me, as our training blades locked. Then he kicked my leg out from under me, sending me sprawling. "And viciously," he finished, the tip of his blade at my throat.
We spent hours sparring in the cornfield, as the farmer, and then his family, three sons with their spouses, and four grandchildren, watched and cheered as I lost, over and over again, each time getting infinitesimally more skilled, quicker, more agile. After a while, the farmers started to believe we were actually Warders. By the time we returned to the Blue House for some rest before lunch, I was a sweaty mess, covered in bruises and welts.
Moiraine was waiting for us to return, a slip of creamy white paper in her hand. She raised eyebrow at the dirt we tracked in, before tsking, and embracing saidar, causing me to join her in the circle, as she wove a deft weave of yellow Air that sent the dirt flying out the window. "Next time, knock your boots off before you enter my room."
Then she approached me and gave me a kiss on the cheek that had me gasping as I felt a cold shock travel through me that seemed to last forever, and only a moment, before she stepped back and the soreness and tiredness was washed away. Amusement played a merry tune in the bond.
"Did you just… Heal me with a kiss?" I asked, incredulous.
The sound of her laughter was like the melodic tinkling of bells, and her eyes were bright."I have been exploring ways to express weaves throughout my body, and given the Healing requires a simple touch… I find, ever since I was bound to you my skills have improved, as has the deftness and ease with which I weave complicated flows of saidar, and even the amount of the One Power I can hold has increased." Her voice took on a more serious note. "If I am to protect you from Forsaken, misguided Aes Sedai and other threats that lie lurking, then I must become more powerful, more skilled."
I couldn't help the smile that broke across my face, feeling her protectiveness. "I need a protector, do I?"
"Of course. I am thinking six shall do. That should be enough women guarding you to keep you out of trouble," she said, sounding absolutely serious, though mirth bubbled in the bond. Then the seriousness came back, and she said, "I have some unsettling news about Ichyo. Come." I followed her to his room.
Channeling sickness. When someone untrained touches the True Source, there is a reaction. Days later, they experience a strange fever, rapid and powerful. This happens more and more swiftly until touching the True Source and the fever happen simultaneously, killing the wilder. That was the key point. It killed wilders, not channelers who were trained.
"We see this in the White Tower, sometimes," Moiraine told me quietly, as we stood by the bed of a groaning Ichyo burning with fever, "with girls who push themselves in private early on, their fumbling explorations enough to trigger whatever causes channeling sickness. It's not nearly as fatal for them as it is for wilders, but I expect your student will experience the fever at least twice more. That to be said, it still can be fatal. You need to begin training him more intensively, until he learns to channel naturally. You must push him."
"Should I expect this with Lan as well?"
"Absolutely not. If he is trying to touch the True Source without you, he would be a bigger fool than I had ever thought." Lan grunted affirmation from the corner of the room.
Ichyo moaned pitifully, his voice raspy, a moist towel on his forehead.
"Then it seems my morning practice must become channeling practice. I have no desire for Mikhael to learn I am teaching men to channel. I do not think Jadine Sedai would be willing to overlook it."
"Mmm, I would hope you would be aware enough not to do so, my Dragon."
After a lunch of fried fish and roasted vegetables, I took Lan to the Braem Woods and we headed south. For two hours Lan stalked me through the wood as I fought him off in running battles, trying to predict where he would come from next, trying and failing to trail him.
I was carefully moving through the underbrush like I could remember my father teaching when I stepped on a trap. The air became thick like jelly, binding my arms to my sides and my legs together, and a plug found itself in my mouth. Instantly, terror grasped me, even as for the briefest moments I wondered if it was Lan doing this.
I panicked and transformed into so'shan, and the bonds held. I breathed the Flame Imperishable, and the bonds held. In front of me of Door dimpled into existence, revealing a regal bedroom with the most beautiful woman in the world, shining brilliantly in a pure white and silver dress. The woman smiled at me, as she took a stepped through the Door. I recognized her. The Forsaken that had nearly killed me. That had attacked the boat, forcing us off the river Erinin.
I transformed into the so'gaighael and still the bonds held. I panicked further. I could hear Lan calling my name. Egwene's mood curdled to worry and anxiousness, and distantly I could feel Moiraine moving, cool calm in the bond, Min with her, distantly anxious. Moiraine was coming. If I could hold out long enough… Belatedly, I reached for saidin and let out a low moan around the gag when I felt the glass of the shield that held the burning light of the One Power from me.
"Lews, Lews, Lews," the Forsaken tsked. "Lews Therin Telamon. Whatever am I to do with you? Caught in a simple snare, like an initiate. Well, not too simple. I had to make sure the webs would adapt to your new… abilities. To think that the Last Chinnar'veren and the Dragon Reborn are the same man. Perhaps you will turn out to be those ocean rat's Coramoor, and the fabled Avatar of Semirhage's playthings as well. But what am I to do with you? The Great Fool in the Dark wants you turned, and if I were as loyal as I proclaim to be, I would have whisked you—Ah, no. No interruptions, please." Lan cursed, before his voice was muffled, and he joined me stiff armed and legged, bound by weaves of Air.
That wasn't my name. I may be the Dragon Reborn, but I am not him. I am myself; I am Rand al'Thor. And a fool. If I had thought there was a chance the woods were trapped, I could have used the Channelsight weave to find them. But I didn't even think. Fool. And now a woman who wanted to kill me has trapped me.
"Now where was I?" She gazed lovingly at me, enough to make me blush from the attention. She was truly beautiful, with a generous bosom that seemed to nearly fall out of her dress, and her hair adorned in moon and stars. If she is so evil, why does she have to be beautiful as well? Why couldn't she have been a hag? "If I was loyal, I would have whisked you away, to Shayol Ghul and your doom."
My heart froze. Suddenly, Lan and I began floating about a foot above the underbrush, moving forward and she began walking backwards, facing us. "Luckily for you, I am not loyal. I had a plan, you know. A simple, easy plan, to a simpler, easier time. A perfectly good one, and nearly flawlessly executed, but for one thing." Her warm voice grew cold. "Someone taught you to Skim and far more, surely, as I have never seen what you did with the lightning before. I'm certain I will not get a name from you, so I will not bother asking, but whichever of my brethren has betrayed the Great Lord will suffer greatly. Please do tell them that once you return. If you return."
No one taught me to Skim, to Travel through Darkspace. But she doesn't know that, won't believe that. Is there a way to turn this to my advantage?
Branches bent out of the way of me, but never for Lan, who had the suffer the indignity of being hit on the head more than once, as the Forsaken carried us through the woods in a southerly direction. Moiraine and Min were slowly but surely closing in, already feeling closer in the bond, while Egwene felt frantic and helpless, a mournful song in the bond.
"I almost completely forgot," the Forsaken said as she walked backwards, while behind her the underbrush bent out of her way, "I know you, of course, Lews Therin Telamon." That's not my name! "I could never forget you, but in this Age, you don't know me. I am Lanfear, greatest of the Chosen of the Great Lord of the Dark, and your only hope of survival. The only one who is truly looking out for you. Whatever a brother,"—and she spat that word—"of mine has told you to let him teach you, he will betray you. He is merely fattening you up like a pig for slaughter, teaching you just enough to eliminate his rivals, while still leaving him in control." Lanfear's eyes blazed with fury at the idea. "Who is it? Demandred? No, even he wouldn't stoop to this. Sammael? Be'lal? It might be the sort of trick Be'lal found funny. Surely not Asmodean, even he is not foolish as to…" She paused, then stared at me quizzically. "Does he sing, your teacher? Nod yes or no."
I wanted to laugh. My teacher was a woman, who sang beautifully when I could get her to. So I nodded yes. Let that set the fox amongst the hens. I held back a grin.
"Such insolence," she hissed. "To think he could ever be your better, your master." Her voice became softer, gentler. "Do not worry, Lews. Whatever bargain you have made with him, whatever vows, they will be broken. I will not let you become the patsy of a little worm like Jasin Natael." Then she attained a distant look, and one of hope. "You will stand by my side, one day. Stand at my side, by choice. Love me, by choice. With our power together, and those half-trained children that play at Aes Sedai taken throughly in hand, and a pair of sa'angreal, you and I could rule Creation." She sighed dreamily, giving me a smile that was so beautiful I nearly returned it on instinct alone. Keep your head, Rand. She may be beautiful but she is a Forsaken! She would surely kill you as kiss you. Listen to her, she's mad!
"But first, you must prove you can survive. Show, well… show me what Asmodean has taught you, sufficiently, and 'I' will let you return back to wherever you came from. It won't even take much time. Well, not much time in this world."
We had stopped before a massive stone column covered in strange curved writing and faded glyphs.
"This is a portal stone. It can take you to many places thought unimaginable, to a myriad of worlds more or less out of step with Creation. Where days would pass there, only hours would pass here, or vice versa. Some a pale, muddled reflections and others as crisp and clear as fine glass. The one you, and the poor bond-slave of that child, will be travelling to was going to be a relatively spare and faded world, nearly dead. But you ruined my plans and so plans change. If only Asmodean hadn't taught you to Skim, I would have had the perfect opportunity to insert myself at your side. Now you will go to a Mirror World closer to this one. A world that needs a Dragon it will never get, for he died squalling on a mountain, frozen to death."
She placed us next to the pillar and released our bonds. Our gags went next, and as I felt a chill in the air and a strange pulling sensation. I shouted, "I have two teachers," much to Lanfear's surprise. And then there was a sickening twist, and a sensation of lights flashing, as Lan and I were hurtled from this reality and into a forest much the same, only Lanfear was missing and it was night.
Strange rustles sounded in the underbrush of the clearing, and there was a rancid smell in the air, a perfume of flowers and rotten fruit and meat gone bad. I lit the surroundings with a bright torchflame, and Lan hissed as I stared in shock. The trees surrounding us rustled and creaked, branches bearing putrid fruits inching away from the flame, and something insectile the size of a small dog chittered in the brush before racing away. Sickly looking plants grew strangely meaty-looking flowers, and from far off we could hear a barking cough of some strange creature hunting in the night, and the screams of its prey. Somehow, someway, we were in the Blight, with no supplies and no backup.
The moment Moiraine realized the faint panic and terror that they surely both felt, far to the north and east—somewhere in the Braem Woods, Rand had said—wasn't stopping, she paused the lesson with Min and made a Door to Travel. Verin Sedai looked flabbergasted at the action and asked, "Whatever are you doing, Moiraine?" as the two women strode quickly inside, not deigning to answer.
Moiraine did not wince as the Door nearly sliced off Min's rear, causing the young woman to let out a yelp and jump back, but it was a close thing. Already the platform they stood on—a stone rose—moved through the darkness, the absence, at speed, but how fast Moiraine did not know. As fast as possible, for even Lan feels a growing distress. I knew I should have counseled him to go somewhere else. That the Forsaken may be watching the Braem Woods.
It would not be fast enough though. Fifteen minutes into their journey, which would take three quarters of an hour, both men felt a moment of absolute terror, and then the bond seemed to fade until she could merely tell they were both north of her and more distant than she could ever imagine, and moving swiftly. She could not feel their feelings, she could not sense their health, it was as if they had vanished. Her mind rung with the loss like the clanging of a clarion bell. They… he… couldn't just be gone. The shock caused the platform to flicker for the barest of seconds, before Moiraine let go of her feelings and focused once more. There would be time to worry and mourn if needs be later. For now, I must keep calm.
Min let out a gasp, and tears came to her eyes, as she turned to Moiraine, distraught. "He's not dead, is he?"
Moiraine shook her head and said softly. "No, they are not dead. We would know the reason and the moment it happened. Lan and Rand both have disappeared though."
Min seemed to wait for more, and when none came, she grew angry. "Well, you're the Aes Sedai! What happened? How did they just disappear?"
"I do not know anymore than you do, child." She said the word deliberately. Let the girl be angry at me, rather than mournful at the loss of our Rand. "The White Tower and Aes Sedai do not know all."
Min muttered and paced the platform as they drew ever closer to where Rand and Lan last were. Finally, the sense of movement stopped. They had arrived.
The entire trip she had been speculating, theorizing, and the only thing she could think of was a Forsaken. Somehow, someway a Forsaken had taken her two Warders from her, and for that, they would pay. If the Pattern was on their side, it would only be a single Forsaken.
She prepared her angreal—the robed woman—and her ter'angreal. The wide belt of moonstone carved with gentle waves was a well, filled to the brim with enough saidar to burn a city. She filled it thrice a day since learning what it was. The intricate silvery mesh gloves connected by bands of strange leather to bracers of ivory and silver, was some kind of shield called a varnaetha, meant to protect against weaves for a time—it had taken Verin Sedai minutes to break it down, but that was with weaves not meant for direct harm. And last, but certainly not least, the golden hairnet adorned with strange symbols shaped like circles, with bulbous tops and a line angled far to the right, and sapphires glittering in the Door's light; the celersouvra increased Moiraine's focus and magnified her reaction time. It caused the world to seem to move in slow motion when she channeled a relatively simple weave of Spirit, Air and Fire into the ter'angreal.
Meanwhile, Min adjusted her necklace, where her own angreal lay—beads of dark green malachite threaded with intricate designs in gold of mandalas—as she stared out into the darkness. Finally, Moiraine was ready. She embraced saidar, pulling deep as she dared, and then a step more. She felt no tingling warning of danger, so she pulled one step further, before pulling deep on her angreal and turning to Min, holding out a hand. "We'll rescue him. Together, as sister-wives, and whoever stole our Warder away, whichever Forsaken trapped our Dragon, will pay dearly for their hubris."
Min nodded and took her hand, shaking a little. She was a brave girl, Moiraine could not deny that. It wasn't necessary for the linking of the Circle, but it seemed to make it easier on Min. She could feel Min's worry, Min's fear, her sense of helplessness, all nestled in a tight ball in the back of her mind, and Min could feel Moiraine just as much. There was no helping it, for that was what a circle was; opening yourself up to someone else, fully, completely. So it surprised her, when Min suddenly began feeling trust, but she did not comment on it. It did not matter. Min had pulled as much as she ever had, and then pulled more with the angreal. Moiraine was filled with saidar near to bursting, so much saidar and all under her control. Life filled her and it made the emptiness of Darkspace even more apparent, the strange lack of feeling and sounds and temperature.
She did not ask Min if she was ready. Moiraine could feel Min's readiness in the bond. Their feelings seemed to flow back and forth, matching each other in harmony, any discordant notes smoothing out. She opened a Door to a clearing, and the two women rushed out, hand-in-hand to find a triumphantly smiling beautiful woman with hair black as midnight cascading down her back, adorned with silver moons and stars. Lan described the woman he saw as a dark-haired beauty above all beauties with jewelry in her hair, with the same dress as she. The Forsaken.
Then there was shock in her eyes, though she had to have known the two were coming, as Moiraine parted the quick overwhelming gout of fire sent almost perfunctory by the Forsaken with a slice of Air followed by her activating the celersouvra, and the battle began in earnest. Shock appeared on the Forsaken's face at the sight of the ter'angreal activating. Time slowed to a crawl, as Moiraine wove a dozen of bolts of lightning in the air around the woman before reaching down below with Earth and Fire. The Forsaken was already moving to slice the lightning that surrounded her, distracted her, as the ground erupted beneath her feet, while Moiraine had already moved on to catching her in bonds of Air, as the Forsaken's legs slowly erupted in a gory mess of blood and flesh and shattered bone. As she bled dangling above the steaming ground—the patterns in the mist and blood spray almost mesmerizing at this speed—Moiraine was already putting a shield on her, sliding into place with only a modicum of effort and cutting the woman's considerable power off. More powerful than Moiraine was, by herself, certainly. Without Min, her angreal may not have been enough.
Min began to slowly vomit, as Moiraine let go of her hand and strode her body in slow motion for what seemed like a minute, to the dying woman. There was a look of absolute hatred and absolute shock that warred with each other in slow waves. Moiraine reached out to Heal just enough that the Forsaken would not die on the spot. Anything more would be too close to mercy for her right then.
Then she untied the weave that powered the celersouvra, and a blinding headache suddenly pummeled the inside of her skull, causing her to stumble, and nearly fall to the ground. Her brain felt sore, somehow. The Circle collapsed and saidar fled her like a retreating tide. For a long moment she couldn't even see, there was just pain and soreness and bright flaring light that rung in her ears.
Her hearing came back to, "So the clever half-trained wilder bitch isn't used to a celersouvra hangover, is she?" the woman spat, her voice dripping with disdain.
Moiraine stubbornly managed to raise an eyebrow. Her husband used that word sometimes when complaining about Lan's practice schedule. It was a crude word, supposedly. Meant to be demeaning to women. So even though she had a terrible headache and her husband was stolen by this wench, she would not stand for rudeness. She slapped the woman across the face, hard. The sound was like a whip crack. A delicate red hand was imprinted on the woman's cheek.
"You dare slap the face of me? Lanfear, Daughter of the Night? When I am free, you will rue the day your mother, the slattern she must have been, was born. When my reinforcements arrive, they will bury you alive, and leave you dying slowly enough for Lews Therin Telamon to find. If he returns. Let us see if Asmodean has taught him true Healing or that lennito'shuk you call Healing."
Moiraine let Lanfear talk while the headache rapidly receded until she could finally think straight again and embraced saidar. Then having made sure the shield held, she turned away from Lanfear without a word, sticking a plug of Air in her mouth, leaving the woman to sputter before checking on Min. The brave young sister-wife of hers was wiping her mouth with a handkerchief, stepping gingerly around a pile of vomit. Her face was pale now, but she no longer looked green around the gills.
"You did well, Min. A little vomit is nothing to be ashamed of."
"It all happened so fast, Moiraine Sedai. And I… I did nothing."
"You did exactly what you needed."
The words seem to spill from her mouth "I was useless. You were so fast, so effortless, so… terrifying. And what am I? Some girl you picked up at the White Tower who sees strange things and can still barely do half a dozen weaves. What use am I against Forsaken, then just to stand there while you do all the work?" There was a resignation in Min's voice that Moiraine found utterly unlike the girl and clued her into how serious this was. Rand's loss must be hitting her harder than I thought. At the thought of Rand her heart clenched with sorrow, before she re-entrenched her will and calmed herself.
Before she could speak, though, something seemed to change about the girl, there was a certain energy to her, a ripple underneath her skin, and then all of a sudden Min was different. She still stood the same height but two bronze horns rose up from her brow, and between them lay a glowing red third eye. In fact, all three of Min's eyes were now red and slitted like a cat. Her mouth was open in shock, to reveal sharp fangs. Her arms up to her elbow were sheathed in gauntlets of purple and green scale, fingers ending in sharp hook claws, and a red jewel lay inset on her clavicle, glowing softly.
Moiraine instantly knew what had happened—somehow the child had triggered the awakening of her shapechanging—and she took her sister-wife in a hug, squeezing her tight before stepping back and staring her straight in her… honestly mesmerizing eyes. The crimson shade goes well with her dark hair and—Moiraine stopped herself and focused.
"Oh, Min. You were not useless. Not useless at all. She is powerful, more powerful than either you or I. But working together we are more than her. Together, Min. And you will grow in time and practice until you can match me. I am certain. Whatever the Binder did to you, in those awful minutes, it gave you a strong spark. It simply takes time, Min, dear."
She nodded, sniffling, blinking her third eye slowly. "What happened? Why am I like this? Why do I…" she abruptly trailed off, shutting her mouth.
Moiraine thought about how to explain it delicately. "Min, you are chinnar'veren. All the sister-wives are. But you must… need the change greatly before it happens. Most often it happens in times of great trauma or desire, or so I have read. You must have felt the need strongly for it to happen."
Min nodded slowly. "So, basically, I needed to be better than I was, and now I am? Rand says his channeling is more powerful in the so'shan, and he can breathe his Flame. And before you ask, I know what I can do."
Moiraine raised an eyebrow.
"My new eye sees… things. The future, but not what is, it sees what could be. It shows me what your answer is before I finish asking the question. But my head is starting to hurt, and my third eye feels a little strained. I think I can only do it so many times." The eye closed. "And then there's the fact I think I can move things with my mind, now."
"Demonstrate, please."
A twig broke off a nearby tree and moved jerkily through the air.
There was no weave that held it, nothing Moiraine could see, anyway. It simply moved through the air. "Astounding, Min. Truly. I wonder how much you can move at a time. We shall endeavor to test your abilities, with Verin Sedai, of course. I think she might actually harm me if I didn't let her study you. And do you have fire?"
Min opened her mouth wide and seemed to make an effort, but nothing came out. She shook her head, "No, no fire. Seeing the future, and moving things with my mind seem to be the powers of my dragon."
"And they will be quite useful. Now, do you think you can change back?"
Min nodded, "I think I can," and did so after about fifteen seconds of concentration. "Where's Rand going?"
Both her warders had picked up speed since Lanfear sent them away, whoever took them speeding far faster than a horse could gallop in a meandering pattern northward towards Tar Valon, stopping for at most ten seconds, before continuing onward.
"North, to Tar Valon most likely. And we shall do the same once we finish with the woman who calls herself Lanfear." Min shivered at the cold tone in her voice. "Now I must be quick about this, so it will be a bit rougher than normal. My sister-wife, if you would like to watch?"
Min looked green, and Moiraine had to hold back from laughing. "It is nothing so crude as what you think. It is simply a weave over-powered to the point that I could cause harm."
"What kind of weave?"
"This affects the mind, encouraging the… victim to view me as a person of authority, and my suggestions in a better light. Usually I use it subtly, but for now I require a hammer to crack Lanfear open."
Soon words were spilling from Lanfear's mouth, after the screams stopped.
Days 1-36 in the Blighted Westlands
The very first thing I tried was a Door, which instead of tearing open a black rectangle of space, fizzled like a sparkler. Things didn't really look up from there. The trees had some kind of network, or passed messages somehow, because they learned to stay away after only a day of my Flame burning their grasping branches and hidden maws. But then the trees gradually thinned out and turned into a nightmarish version of the Caralain Grass, with its own unique dangers. Whatever road that had existed had been wiped out in the expansion of the Grass, and we saw no signs of civilization but for the Wall.
The trees didn't light up like firewood, or burn to ashes like shadowspawn, they slowly roasted, whatever of the Shadow in them not enough to simple breathe dragonfire and be done with it. Indeed, it seemed the life of the Blight had varying resistances to my Flame. Some, like the massive, horrible bugs the size of hounds, could almost ignore it, if they were brave enough or suicidal enough to try. Didn't stop our heron-mark blades from slicing through their chitin like butter. Others, like the strange gelatinous slimes of inky black that hung from tree branches waiting to drop on unsuspecting prey, burnt like a merry bonfire when my dragonfire touched them. Still others, the mutant forest life, herbivores and scavengers turned carnivorous and strange, only our swords were reliable, and my channeling, and even that became suspect, later.
Lan theorized the more the Shadow was bound in the creation of such creatures, the more they burned in my dragonfire. He had lots of theories, about what happened to this world, and where we needed to go—Tar Valon of course—and why we shouldn't trust Lanfear to ever actually return us. With no food, and only the surrounding Blight with its poison gifts, an unsettled Lan put forward that very first night my flame could not just burn, but imbue.
"If it is truly a spark of the Flame Imperishable of the Creator, as you claim, surely it does more than destroy. The Creator built the Wheel of Time. His flame must do more than destroy. Purify that fruit," he said, pointing a putrid-smelling yellow fruit, spiky and shaped like a squash about the length of my forearm, that hung from the quivering branch of a nearby tree I had recently burnt into submission. "And if that works, then we can try other plants."
I focused not on destroying, but purifying, revealing the true act of Creation that lay behind this chaotic mess of a fruit. I held the Flame in my mouth, focusing on a sense of cleanliness, and could almost feel my dragonfire soften. Gently, I blew a stream of rainbow fire gently up and down the fruit and it seemed to melt, dripping a waxy black substance that evaporated as it dropped, until underneath it all was a healthy sized pale green pear hanging from the tree. Lan had quickly plucked it and sliced it in two with his belt knife, before handing it to me. We dug in and ate our fill of pears and apples that hour, before that barking cough started up again, nearer to us, and we moved.
From then on we harvested what we could from the land, mushrooms, wild carrots and potatoes, berries and fruit of all kinds, nuts and even the flesh of some animals. Corrupted bears, bearing strange mutations, wandered the woods, but their meat purified all the same. Same with the carnivorous goat and sheep, strangely serpentine, with baleful red eyes and fangs. They did not burn well in my dragonfire, but the One Power dealt with them just as easily. Massive roosters—scaly and reptilian with a pair of tiny grasping arms—the size of a wagon. That made good eating for a couple days, but we never saw more than five and only killed two, the others running off, thundering through the woods, or across the grasslands.
We slept rough, unwilling to drag bear furs in the heat, and made our way out of a much larger Braem Woods and into this world's version of the Caralain Grass. Great herds of horses roamed the Grass, content to eat the mildly tainted grass that sometimes gleamed an oily black in the sun, and only seemed to bother with us when we got too close, revealing sharp teeth and clawed feet that showed the difference between this world and our own. From there it became harder to forage, but Lan still found enough to carry us forward. Sometimes we saw large oxen off in the distance, too large on the horizon to be anything normal.
The problem was the strangely shaped wolves that stood on two legs, with equal amounts of fur and scale, massive reptilian tails and the terrifying sickle shaped claws on their two paws. The Flame Imperishable burnt them alive but still they attacked with such savagery that I was glad Lan stood by my side. They were terrifying, the wolflizards, and terrifyingly smart. They would surround us, try to separate us, but Lan did not let them do so often, cutting them down relentlessly as I burned them. They hunted in packs of six or fewer, thankfully, but they hunted the Caralain Grass relentlessly, and there practically wasn't a day where we didn't have a pack trailing us, or squabbling with another pack over us, when they weren't stalking the herds of horses. We had to kill them every time they showed up, or we couldn't risk sleep. They loved to attack at night; we learned that the hard way.
Lan had shaken me awake, as the surrounding grass rustled with movement. We had finally entered the Caralain Grass early that morning, and the pond we stopped at formed a clearing about ten paces across, giving me just barely enough time to grasp the shape leaping out of the tall grass before my instincts told me to transform.
With a roar as so'gaighael, ten feet tall and bare naked scales, I stood up and let out a burst of flame, lighting the creature afire as it landed on my chest and shoulder and began snarling, biting my face, with surprisingly tough claws ringing against my scales and leaving scratches. As the creature burned, I could see the slavering jaws of a dog or wolf, furred, with a hint of scale beneath, teeth scraping and grinding against my more tender facial scales and getting close to my eyes, so I panicked.
I ripped the creature off my face with a sharp tug of pain, as a scale came loose under its less-than-gentle ministrations. More shocked than actually hurt, I stomped on the strange creature, with its canine features, and grasping clawed hands, and lizard tail, and body plan more like a flightless bird than any wolf or lizard. I stomped hard, shattering its chest and the rest burnt merrily.
And then another wolflizard was on my back, ripping chunks of hair out, its sickle-claws tearing at my back. I fling myself backward onto the muddy bank of the pond, snapping its back. It howled piteously, unable to move, half sunk into the mud. Lan was surrounded by three dead wolflizards, though his side was dark with blood. I waited a moment, but nothing moved in the dark. Seizing the One Power, I went to the Warder's side, and Healed a deep slicing cut that nearly spilled Lan's guts out.
"I need to learn how to do that, sooner than later, scales."
"If enough attacks like this happen, you'll learn as quickly as you need to. I promised Moiraine I wouldn't teach you anything, and what I'm doing now skirts the meaning if not the words of that promise. I cannot do more."
Lan grunted and stretched his body, touching the scar where the cut used to be. We didn't sleep any longer that night, moving through the tall grass, every rustle and movement causing me to twist or flinch. I did not leave so'gaighael until the sun rose. I thanked the Creator the grass, though thick and tall and rough, was not particularly imbued with the evil my Flame burned, and I only had to kill a few errant smoldering grass fires each time the wolf-lizards attacked.
Lan theorized they hunted us by our channeling, and channeling less did seem to make it take longer before another pack found us, but channeling was how we drank water, and set our campfires, and ease various other tasks, so there was no stopping it. Their distant fluted howls and barks echoing melodically across the Grass kept me up some nights, and I had nightmares of waking up with my guts strewn like garters, a wolflizard looking down on me, muzzle red and dripping. I had seen what they did to their own kind.
Every night, even on the Grass, I worked with Lan on saidin. Within the first week as we moved through the Braem Woods, he channeled saidin, just a tiny flickering flame, dancing in the air in front of him. I had promised I wouldn't teach him more, to Moiraine, and so I didn't, but that did not stop Lan from picking up how to use the torchflame, or other simple weaves I used throughout the day from watching me. I ended up helping him with his finesse, giving him lessons for control and speed, and showing him how to weave a thread into his power-wrought sword correctly so he could use it to its full potential. I used some of my simpler weaves in combat, and Lan picked those up after a few days of watching as well, flinging bolts of fire and lightning from one hand as he cut through whatever bizarre animal accosted us with the other. May Moiraine forgive me for failing to hold on to the spirit of that promise, but we did not know when we were getting out of here, and it was the Blight.
The strangest part of the whole journey was never encountering Trollocs, or Myrddraal, or Draghkar. There were no familiar shadowspawn in this world, simply bizarre and terrifying animals twisted by the Shadow. Seeing a sheep's jaw open like that, revealing a gullet big enough to swallow a head… It was enough to make a man shiver. Gunk-spewing snails the size of ponies, giant dragonflies that swooped and dove and turned on a dime, hunting prey that included human flesh, and the disconcerting sight of a strangely insectile deer chewing on a bird whole. Life in the Blight was florid and violent.
Then there was the Wall. We started seeing it shine on the horizon on the thirteenth day, a pure white line etched below Dragonmount. The Wall grew closer while Dragonmount was still far distant, and one day Lan studied the Wall, as we got the closest we had ever seen it, a wide patch of ash abutting it. I could barely make out the movement of tiny figures. Lan could presumably see more.
"No gate and the Blight is burnt a hundred feet from the wall. This is a wall meant to keep something out. We need to find a gate, then we can sneak in. As we are now, we're too suspicious."
"Makes sense. Tar Valon doesn't want the Blight on their land. If we could find a bloody road that would be nice, too."
We cut across the River Erinin to dodge the Wall, moving north-east through the Grass, until copses and wood began to appear, Blight things, but sources of fruits and nuts with my Flame. I had been dying for an apple. The Wall grew ever closer on our left even as we headed north-east, shining brightly in the sun. Gradually we left the hunting packs of wolflizards behind, suffering other beasts instead; mossy landcrabs the size of horses, insectile chittering deer, their prongs antenna and black compound eyes that glitter like stars, wasps the size of cantaloupes whose sting burned like a thousand fires.
And then, on the thirty-sixth day of being stuck in this blighted world—when Dragonmount, covered in a virulent rainbow of twisted foliage but for its forbidding smoking black peak, dominated the horizon with the belt of the Wall around it—we somehow met a woman. The first living person we had seen, and it was a woman who looked akin to a younger sister of Lanfear, riding a white horse with silvered saddle, and whose voice, though younger, was an exact match for Lanfear's. The only reason I didn't immediately do anything was the fact her hands were up in surrender. One woman had already tried to kill me. Who knew what this one would do?
"I surrender, Lews Therin Telamon." My mouth opened in shock. Surrender? Lews Therin? Is she insane?
"My name is Rand al'Thor," is what I bit out. "Who exactly are you?"
She ignored that. "I see you are confused. I am the Lanfear of this Mirror World. I have watched you for weeks, first in shock, then in awe at your gifts. Clearly someone has been teaching you, if you can channel Fire in such a way as the burn out the corruption of the Great Lord. I won't ask who. I can guess, though. Aginor would not be pleased, but it was his fault half the world is like this, anyway. Him and the Aes Sedai with their damn Wall, spreading their Little Towers like mushrooms sprouting after a hard rain and entrenching themselves. Saldaea, Almothi, Arad Doman and Tarabon, and even Ghealdandor, in the Two Rivers. Though I suppose I shouldn't complain, I am one of them now, ostensibly."
A White Tower, in the Two Rivers? Mirror World? Wall? Aes Sedai built that thing? I burnt the errant thoughts. It did not matter right now. This was a Forsaken, giving herself willingly to me. Absolutely a trick and I needed to be careful. I glanced at Lan, who stood rigid with his hand on his hilt. Lanfear was almost within the length of his sword. Another step…
"And why should I not burn you where you stand?" I asked. "You should ask Ba'alzamon what happened when I met him last."
She looked prideful. "Because I know what my sisters want to do with you. That is information you need to know. Games are afoot, prophecy abounds, Lews Therin. Your fate hangs in the balance, and any false step could send you down the wrong path. You need someone to guide you. Someone like me."
"I am not Lews Therin, I'm Rand al'Thor."
"Then answer our questions. What happened here? How did the Blight reach so far south?" Lan demanded.
She took a step closer, away from her horse. "Aginor infected the land near Tar Valon, and its been slowly spreading over the centuries. Andor was lost seventy-five years ago last Aine. Of the Borderlands, only Saldaea exists in any meaningful way, standing strong while the rest of the Borderlands have fallen to the encroachment of the Blight. With the Wall on its southern border, it marks the farthest north human civilization has survived."
I was baffled. "Centuries? What happened, how did you get free?"
To her credit she answered freely. It was not a very happy answer to hear though. "When the infant Dragon Reborn died on Dragonmount, something broke in the prison holding us, and we became free. Free and with prophecy irrevocably broken, the Great Lord lying forever trapped in His prison, we spread across the world and attended to our desires and advanced our plans and for a good decade we had free reign of the world, living lives in the shadow of the Third Age. Then Aginor's latest creations, at the time, broke containment."
"You've met them, the shaeraptar, the unsettling bestial things that hunt channelers. Far too smart, and it turned out they liked Trolloc nearly as much as they like channelers and horses, only they were carrying a disease, a disease that, while easily beatable by the shaeraptar, spread slowly through the Trollocs. It started with a debilitating cough and ended with weeping blood from all orifices. It took weeks for it to show, sometimes, and by the time Aginor realized he had a ghraem'bokhen, a plague on his hands, it was too late. It would take years, but eventually the disease, the Red Sickness, would spread across the Blight, killing every single Trolloc. Aginor tried to make more, but they died too. Later, he and Ishamael managed to kill each other, and the secret to making Trollocs was lost."
Lan and I stood rapt in attention at the strange story of why there were no shadowspawn to be seen. The Trollocs all died, and with them died the Myrddraal. I wonder if it infected the Draghkar, too?
"In his rage, and the madness he had gained since being imprisoned, he blamed it on the Tar Valon witches, and retaliated without notifying any of the Chosen. By the time any of us noticed, it was too late. Two of his creations, his Seeders, had died in Shienar and Kandor respectively, spreading the Blight with their dying actions, causing turmoil and destruction and the slow end of the Borderlands, but a third survived its journey through Arafel and crossed the empty spaces between the Borderlands and Tar Valon, before it died of exhaustion and starvation, the creature never given a mouth to eat, nor meant to survive. With its death the Blight bloomed once more on the face of the world, this time close enough to be seen from the top of the White Tower, if barely."
"Centuries have passed since that day. Despite the Wall and the Burners, despite Aes Sedai and Kin, despite the Grand Alliance, despite all efforts of mankind, the Blight continues to advance westward and southward, slowly, but surely. Greater Illian borders the Blight now, their reach extending to the old nation of Murandy, and Altara, while Imperial Tear holds as far as southern Cairhien and Far Madding. The thankfully slow advance of the Blight has given much of humanity a chance to… reorganize under the Chosen that survived the free-for-all after Ishamael's and Aginor's death, while the White Tower controls the four 'free' kingdoms; Saldaea, Arad Doman, Almothi and Tarabon. I, of course, do not need to play around playing an immortal king or queen, like Sammael, Be'lal, Demandred or Semirhage. I am content to be an Aes Sedai again, even if the women of this Age are truly snooty bitches. Running my own Tower is power enough."
It was all a bit much, what the centuries had wrought on the Westlands—a fate that only through sheer luck we avoided—but she seemed pleased to brag about this to me, so I forced a smile, and said, "Oh? Where is your Tower? That must be a prestigious position," even as I prepared a shield for her, seizing saidin and drinking as deep as I dared, feeling a tingle of warning that I was about to exceed my limits.
She actually blushed. "Oh, it is nothing compared to my work in the Second Age, but molding young minds has been surprisingly fulfilling. You'd be surprised what they can come up with when taught to be properly innovative, rather than the nonsense Ishamael had encouraged. Saldaean Tower Aes Sedai are whispered to be even more powerful than White Tower Aes Sedai, and I am their Keeper. I think you would actually quite like it there, Lews." She pursed her lips and examined me and Lan. "We do have a problem though. Two men, appearing out of the Blighted Grass, without horses and only the clothes on their back will not be allowed inside the Walls without a thorough interrogation. Not unless they arrive with me, the Keeper of the Saldaean Tower, and even then that would be commented upon. None are free of suspicion in this benighted Age."
As Lan asked another question, I pulled on the tiger angreal that l had absent-mindedly taken with me, thank the Pattern, holding enough One Power to alert a male Forsaken, or a Fade, within twenty miles, if any still existed with the Trollocs dying off. Still, this Lanfear did not seem to notice, and I slammed the shield down on her active connection to the One Power. There was a brief moment of struggle, but I battered and overwhelmed the woman with my will, and my angreal. Light, I did it! I thought, triumphantly.
"Is that any way to treat a woman who surrendered to you?" was all that Lanfear said, sounding so righteously indignant that I doubt myself for a moment, before I frowned at her. How dare she act like she doesn't deserve this?
I sneered. "You are a Forsaken. I should have shielded you the instant I saw you. Now, you will get us inside this Wall, and into the White Tower. They have to know something about how to return us, what that stone column was."
The woman actually gave a sniff. It was like she didn't realize her position. "But that's what I am here for. If my sister didn't, I was supposed to pick you up and return you two weeks ago, but you've been so fascinating to watch I simply couldn't help it. My sister sent you away using a portal stone, of which there is one on the grounds of the White Tower, locked away. I was going to lead you there, anyway, as soon as you bind me. I am your Enemy." She said the last part with a coy smile, and a wink, thrusting her chest forward.
My heart stuttered. Was Lanfear truly the Enemy? She was beautiful, and my enemy, but the Binder did not come calling around either Lanfear. No, she is trying to trick me, I thought, trying to make me doubt. But Min never mentioned a beautiful raven-haired woman. She said the last three were Elayne, a woman who looks like my cousin, looks Aiel, and a svelte dark-skinned woman with no hair. "I think not. But how do you know about that? You shouldn't know."
"Your Aes Sedai thinks her wards are unbeatable. My sister found them child's play to get around when she deigned to, and heard quite interesting conversations before you fled her grasp. Bind me, Rand al'Thor, as your Enemy and I will tell you everything I know, assist you in any way possible. Any way." Her smile became lascivious. "Even more than the Aes Sedai does, and certainly more than that prudish woman with the poor fashion sense."
I didn't need Lan's dead-eyed stare to know it was some kind of trap. So instead of saying anything, I did what I'd done for weeks now, and transformed into so'gaighael, the hulking Battlebeast form standing head and shoulders above a suddenly worried Lanfear. This close to her, I could see a strange black cord coming from her back that seemed to disappear into the distance, tying her to something.
"What are you—"
I gathered my dragonfire in my mouth and softened the Flame Imperishable into a purifying fire, and blew gently.
She still screamed. Oh, did she scream, each ragged sound tearing at my heart and begging me to stop, as black waxy tendrils leaked from her eyes and nose and the sides of her mouth, evaporating and leaving a slight scalding as they left. But I kept blowing until angry red welts ran down her face and I felt something snap within her, the cord disappearing, and then the flame did no more harm, instead soothing her welts and her singed soul, leaving scars. The whole process took nearly half a minute and most of my dragonfire, leaving my throat hot and raspy, but when it was done, her screams petered out to simple sobs, then silence. Lan looked as calm and cold as can be, staring stonily at the Forsaken.
Before me Lanfear trembled on the ground, surrounded by fresh green grass. She no longer looked young, whatever trickery that had persisted past her shielding could not withstand the purifying fire of the Flame Imperishable. She was mature, in full blossom rather than the flower bud I can see she was before. Pink scars lined her face, down from the sides of her mouth, down from her nose across her lips, and down from her eyes. Still the Binder did not come to my hand. Not without me desiring it.
She was not the Enemy. She was not even an enemy anymore, really. I had burned the Shadow out of her body; I think I did, at least. Cut something that connected to the Shadow. Taken her mask away. Scarred her, body and soul.
"What did you do to me?" she mumbled, and then stared at me forlornly. "You cut me off. How did you cut me off? I cannot feel Him anymore." She laughed, sudden and brokenly. "I'm dead. You've killed me. He will never suffer me to live after this, nor will my sisters, once they learn. I'm dead."
I grimaced, but steeled myself. I needed to be hard, I could not let her sway me. This was a Forsaken, a woman who had betrayed humanity, betrayed the Creator, and would easily betray me. "Your only choice is to join my side and repent for your endless sins by doing good for the world. What I did to you, I could do to any of your… sisters, and your fellow Forsaken as well. You may be the first, but I feel assured in saying you won't be the last."
Lanfear stared defiantly for a long moment, before crumpling. After a long minute of staring at the ground, she looked up again, and it was like she had never screamed or cried or sobbed. As if this were a negotiation rather than an ultimatum. "Very well, at least I will stand by your side, Lews Therin Telamon, until the end. I suppose I can live with your other wives, now that I am at your mercy. You are lucky I am this magnanimous. Any other Forsaken would deny your offer, spitting defiantly until the end, but if this is the way I must have you, then take it I will." It was like the yapping of a small dog, trying to prove its bravery.
The Binder—decorated with three strange dragons that appeared lifelike and moving—now appeared eager in my hand, yet I felt no heat or warmth, just cool wood. Somehow, I could tell it wasn't ready to bind a woman to my heart, and that instead it operated like a normal Oath Rod, where channeling into the number activated it, and whoever swore on it was bound to their oaths.
Lanfear's eyes sparkled. "Oh, Lews, is that… is that the Binder?" She teared up a little.
I squirmed, uncomfortable with the emotional vulnerability that Lanfear was showing, though not with tricking her, but I nodded and held it out.
"You really mean it?"
I waited a moment longer before nodding.
Lan spoke up. "Before we get ahead of ourselves, we've got to decide the Oaths. The first must naturally be to obey the Dragon Reborn and his Dragonwives."
"And to do no harm, but to Darkfriends and shadowspawn," I added.
"And of course, to speak no word that is not true. She'll have to learn to make the truth dance like a true Aes Sedai, and we can pull everything out of her before then," Lan finished up, to Lanfear's look of disgust, with a final oath befitting of someone like her.
I grinned. "That sounds good to me, Lan Gaidin."
"Not three, Lews. Please, not three. You'll cut my lifespan in half and make me little better than the White Tower fools that still using the Oath Rod. I'll be middle-aged."
"My name is Rand. Get that through your thick skull, Lanfear. And I honestly didn't know that about the Oath Rod. Still, I don't care."
"Rand," she said on hands and knees. "Please, just one oath. I can handle losing a quarter of my life."
I took a step back, out of the way of grasping hands. "No, three is a solid number. Now stand back up and take the Binder."
For a long minute she remained on hands and knees, offering secrets and riches and power, in exchange for a single oath. I flatly ignored her. When I growled, she startled, and flinched when her glance caught the embers of rainbow fire filling my sharp-toothed maw, crawling back a couple paces. I didn't feel great about scaring a woman like that, but it got her to stand up.
I transformed back into a simple man, and Lanfear finally approached. As she took the Binder in hand, I channeled a tendril of Spirit into the number. The Binder softly glowed, and she suddenly stood rigid, as if a heavy weight pressed down on her.
With gritted teeth she said, "I swear to obey the Dragon Reborn and his Dragonwives." The weight pressed further. "I swear to do no harm, but to Darkfriends and shadowspawn." She winced and grunted, staggering a little. "I swear to speak no word that is not true." And then it was over, the light faded from the Binder and Lanfear panted as if she had run a dozen miles in the heat of summer. As she stood there, I unwove the shield, and she glanced up at me before I felt the goosebumps of saidar being embraced. Dirt and dust shook itself from clothes, and in an instant she looked younger once more, with no pink scars.
As she made to speak, I interrupted her with her first order. "You are to treat al'Lan Mandragoran, the man beside me and my Dragonwife Moiraine's warder, as if he were Moiraine herself. He speak in her voice."
Lanfear nodded slowly, confusion in her eyes. "You did not bind me as an Enemy, did you? I feel no bond."
I smiled toothily. "I bound you, alright, and you are certainly my enemy, but you are not the Enemy and you never were. There will be no bond. You will work to pay off your debt to humanity, teaching my wives everything they need to know about the One Power, teaching me relevant information about the Forsaken, and whatever other jobs I can find you useful for. That is it. You will never share my bed or my heart."
Lanfear appeared almost quizzical, staring at me, as if my words did not make sense. "But the Prophecy said… I thought I just needed to be bound."
"What prophecy?"
"I just needed to be bound."
"Lanfear."
"The Prophecy of the Daughter's Nightgroom. One involving me and my five sisters, and you, Rand al'Thor. I shouldn't call you Lews anymore. You aren't Lews Therin. He would never enslave a woman, no matter who she was. Who are you, Rand al'Thor? And what have you done to the Lews I knew?"
That hit surprisingly hard given I thought I had gotten over all the angst about who I truly was. Angrily, I bit out, "I am Rand al'Thor, not Lews Therin Telamon. I am the Dragon Reborn, gifted by the Creator. My dragonfire holds the Flame Imperishable, the Sacred Fire of the Creator. I have wonderful, beautiful, caring wives who are surely looking for me now, as I can feel them traveling slowly but surely. Perhaps they'll meet us at the White Tower in the weeks to come. Do not question who I am again."
"I cannot get you in without suspicion," she said offered.
"And if I come in so'shan, the Lord Form?" I ask.
"Then you are the Last Chinnar'veren and that means the Last Battle looms. It is quite risky, but doable. Foretellings speak of your coming, since the Dragon's death. The Amyrlin Seat is a hard woman, but she will listen to you. Whether she'll help you is another tale."
"And who is the Amyrlin Seat?"
Lanfear gave a vulpine grin. "The Queen That Never Was. She's held onto her seat for over two hundred years, she'll hold on to it through the storm your about to give her. I almost admire her, sometimes. She managed to find quite a bit of the Black Ajah before I took over and spread them out into the Little Towers, out of her grasp, and made them a sight more well-adjusted. No more forced conscription, for one. That's what got them in trouble in the first place. Having thirteen Myrddraal on hand inside the White Tower? It was a nightmare to plan every abduction, with all the Warders who did night training. I don't know how they did it for so long without people noticing."
"Her name," the Warder grunted.
"Oh, why, her name? Moiraine Damodred, of course," Lanfear said, delight shining in her eyes at the shock on our faces.