Days 36 in the Blighted Westlands (Mirror World)
I could see Moiraine as Amyrlin, cooly calm, dispensing justice and overseeing kings and queens, while at night she snuggled with whatever Warder or Aes Sedai shared her bed, complaining about the boringness of ceremony or the stupidity of royalty. But could she stay the same over the centuries? How hardened had the years made her? How brittle? Would I even recognize her?
"What do you mean, Moiraine Damodred is the Amyrlin Seat? How did this happen?" Lan asked forcefully.
Lanfear's grin was vicious. "Has been for coming up on two hundred and fifty years, after the previous Amyrlin Seat, Siuan Sanche, was assassinated by the Black Ajah. Moiraine Damodred is a hard woman, led the first of the Purges of the Tower on her first day in office, using the Oath Rod to find out suspected Black Ajah, but the truest boon they had that day was the Traitor, who had meticulously recorded all members of the Black Ajah she knew and suspected, and presented it to the Amyrlin Seat. Her name would make you gasp. I'm not sure you should wish to know," Lanfear said coyly. "Perhaps things are different in your world, though. Perhaps there will be no traitor. Perhaps I would be naming an innocent to slaughter. That would be harmful, would it not?" She did not look like she believed it. She looked pleased, in fact.
"The name," I said firmly. "Tell me the name." A traitor, but betraying the Shadow, not the Light? A first.
Lanfear gave a moue of distaste. "Verin Mathwin."
My foundation rung like a bell. Verin Sedai, Black Ajah? It couldn't be. It truly couldn't be. She was absent-minded, would speak in meandering tales that seemed to jump around, and utterly focused on nothing but her desires; studying books and things as closely and intently as possible. Yet she sometimes had a curious look of intelligence in her eye, as if she knew far more than she let on. But how did that translate into becoming Black Ajah? And why? But Lanfear called her a traitor, so wouldn't that mean she is on my side, after all? Light, she practically knows everything! What has she told the Shadow? What hasn't she told them? Yet she betrays them in this world. I clenched my fists, not wanting to believe. Yet if it was true, what would that mean? It would mean she was on the side of the Light. That she could very well be on the side of the Light in our world too, I told myself.
"She's telling the truth as she knows it," Lan said to me urgently. "She's trying to make you doubt your companions. Do not listen to her."
I shook my head, mind decided. "No, no. It does not matter, Lan. Either it isn't true in our world and doesn't matter, or it is true, and that means Verin Sedai is actually on the side of the Light, that for whatever reason she joined the Black Ajah, she seeks to destroy them."
"You have no way of knowing she'd turn traitor if she is Black Ajah in our world," Lan warned.
"If the only difference in between the two worlds is that I'm born to die too early," I reasoned, a bit desperately, "then things mostly would be the same. If she's a traitor in this world, then she's probably a traitor in our world too. The Black Ajah have some way of circumventing the Three Oaths. What is it, Lanfear? How do they do it?"
Lan shook his head, muttering too quietly for me to hear.
Lanfear swallowed, looking pained, and strained not to speak for a long minute, before she opened her mouth. "A Binder—or as the fools in the White Tower call it, the Oath Rod—can be used to undo oaths and then new oaths can be sworn. The Black Ajah had a single Binder at the time of the Purges. Forced swearing of the Three Oaths, like in the Purges, can be circumvented with inverted webs of audio and visual camoflauge. While the swearer uses the Black Oaths, they are shown to swear the Three Oaths. It is how Mesaana survived the First Purge, though she did not survive the Second."
"What is an inverted web? And by web do you mean weave?"
"Weave is what the charlatans call it. It is a web to those of us accustomed to other, better times. Your teacher has not taught you this? An inverted web is when one channels the One Power inverted, which is to say when their channeling is hidden. It is quite a bit more difficult than normal, but allows stealth. Inversion is nigh undetectable, but for intricate webs of Spirit laced in a fine net or sensory ter'angreal."
"That's quite informative." She looked half-pleased, half-annoyed at the compliment. "So Mesaana will probably be hiding in the White Tower, and at the very least, I can use the Binder as an Oath Rod, and have Verin Sedai re-swear the Three Oaths. Then she will be Aes Sedai again, and can betray the Shadow to her heart's content with all parties believing her, if that is her desire. And to think there is a way to hide weaves, and use the One Power in stealth! Light, another thing to worry about and learn. Thank you, Lanfear. You have been very helpful."
"Don't think it will be that simple, scales." Lan's voice held a hint a sympathy. "If she truly is Black Ajah, she may have to flee, rather than give up her oaths, or be forced to fight us. Be glad her Warder is not in Illian as well. No doubt he is a Darkfriend too, a true one. I will not enjoy killing Tomas."
Tomas, the Warder who had reached out and welcomed me when others shunned and ignored me, a Darkfriend? I didn't know him that well, but it didn't make sense, like Verin Sedai. They seemed too nice, too helpful. I shook my head. "I can purify them. There is no need for killing. If I can purify a Forsaken, I can purify two Darkfriends."
"And are you going to save every Darkfriend, now that you have that ability?" Lan questioned.
"Of course not," I snapped. "But if I can save someone, instead of killing them, should I not?"
"I cannot answer that. Can you save them, when it means letting other innocents die? Can you save them, when it means they'll just return to their old ways and hurt more people? Can you save them—"
"I get it," I interrupted, my cheeks flushing.
Lan looked at me. "I am merely offering you advice, Lord Dragon," he said stiffly. "But if you wish me to be silent…"
Frantically, I shook my head. "Light Lan, no. I'm sorry. I just wish it was easy. That I could use the Flame, and purify the bad guys, and make them good Light-fearing folk again. I shouldn't have interrupted you."
He seemed satisfied enough with that for an apology. "There's more to evil than just the Shadow. Men who aren't of the Shadow do evil. They murder and rape and thieve and betray and lie. You cannot purify that out of someone with a flame, no matter how powerful. A man who murders for the Shadow, and a man who murders for his one pleasure both commit the same act of evil, yet only one does the Creator despise. I will advise that you spend your mercy sparingly. Learn who Verin Sedai really is, before you decide to purify her. She may not deserve it."
Images flashed in my mind, of a intrigued Verin Sedai making a perfect little sketch a man's torture, thoughtfully diagrammed. Of her asking Myrddraal questions about their habits, ink spot on her nose. Of her speaking with other Black Ajah about horned beetles, or the rise of manor farming in Andor. It seemed ridiculous to consider the Brown Sister a Darkfriend. And if she was, then surely she had to be betraying them. I did not wish to consider otherwise. I would not consider otherwise.
"If you two are done, I heard the bark of a grolm in the distance. They tend to stay away from the Wall, too many manage to die from lucky shots, so we need to keep moving. Standing here, discussing maybe's and if's will get us killed."
"A grolm? Which beast is that?"
"The squat toadbears with three eyes. They are not shadowspawn, but creatures taken from another Mirror World. Sammael had the bright idea of domesticating them, after seeing Semirhage's ilk. There used to be more, but the bounty encouraged hunters enough that the grolm tend to stay away from civilization." A coughing bark, closer this time, interrupted her. She raised an eyebrow, and the two of us started moving for the Wall.
Lanfear told us much and more, as we slash and burned our way through the Blight. First she told us of the Free Kingdoms. Of brave Saldaea, standing strong, where thousands of Burners held back the Blight, alongside tens of thousands of soldiers led by warrior-queens. Of the Domani, taking in the lost Kandori early in the Blight Years, and blossoming into a center of industry and knowledge. Of the rise of the Almothi into the agricultural powerhouse of the Kingdoms, their queen 'elected' by the channelers of the country each quarter of a century, from noble Kin. And militant Tarabon, where the weapons used against the Blight were used against fellow men, in battles terrible and mighty. The Panarch and her Legion have fought a slow and bloody war against Amadicia for nearly half a century, over the Shadow Coast, and they were losing, despite cuendillar weapons and soldier Kin alike.
"You keep bringing up the Kin, like I should know who they are," I finally told her.
"Oh, of course," she said in mock surprise. "They haven't revealed themselves yet. They all call themselves Kin now, but the original Kin were based out of Ebou Dar. They were a quietly massive organization of channelers, that extended into neighboring countries. Not Amadicia, of course, not even they were that powerful. With the Chosen revealing themselves, they moved to Tarabon, and absorbed the similar organizations that existed, spreading through what's now known as the Free Kingdoms, before announcing themselves to the world and the White Tower. Supposed Kin exist inside the Grand Alliance but they are fronts for Darkfriends to launder their misdeeds through acts of public benevolence and assistance, and are not to be trusted."
She continued lecturing. "The Kin regulate and run practically every channeling-based business in the Free Kingdoms, from medical care, to maidwork, to construction, even soldiery, except for cuendillar production. The members of the Kin that show Talent in that direction have to join the closest Little Tower, and become Aes Sedai, as per the Treaty of Reconciliation."
"Huh. So they're like a guild, but for channelers?" I posited.
Lanfear nodded. "Working as a channeler, without being a member of the Kin, is risky business."
"And the Little Towers?" Lan asked.
"Off-shoots of the White Tower, led by a Keeper. Established early in the Amyrlin's tenure, they've grown to become varying levels of independent," she said simply. "Like I said before, you would be very welcome in Saldaea. It is not unknown for men like you to join as volunteers to guard the Burners, to seek a death in the Blight. It is considered honorable for male channelers. And if the women cannot sense some of the flames, well, they consider it good luck."
My stomach twisted. How many men had gone off to die to the strange shadowspawn that haunted the Blight over the centuries for it to become an acceptable thing? Hundreds? Thousands? Tens of thousands? How many women? What must the attrition rate be like, for Aes Sedai to accept men channeling beside them?
"This world is a nightmare," I blurted out.
Lanfear merely laughed, and then told us about the Grand Alliance. Tear and Illian. Or rather, Imperial Tear, and Greater Illian, the two superpowers of the Westlands, who only haven't conquered everything outside the Wall due to war with Shara and Seanchan. A war that started centuries ago, in the brutal in-fighting of the Forsaken after Ishamael's death, that has burned hot and cold over the years, but never ended. For Be'lal was Emperor of Tear, and Sammael King of Illian, while Demandred ruled Shara and Semirhage sat on the Crystal Throne in Seanchan and neither pair could suffer the others to live. Shara I knew, but Seanchan was a distant empire across the Aryth Ocean, ruled by the descendants of Hawkwing's army. She did not give more details, and I did not ask, my brain full of them. It would not matter, anyway.
We were stuck in a world slowly falling to the Blight, where the Forsaken ruled openly in four nations. Our hope lay in Tar Valon, and that Moiraine would be willing to listen to our strange tale, and that this former Forsaken, now bound to me by three oaths, would lead me true.
Day 38
We had reached the edge of the Wall, just after dawn, after a day and night of hard travel. It was a wonder of this nightmarish Mirror World; a long wall of cuendillar, built as simply and quickly as possible and transformed through the rediscovery of the lost Talent. The Blight couldn't touch it, the last hundred feet was all burned to ash, only disturbed by footprints and the wind. Pure white walls stood thirty feet tall, with wooden watchtowers built onto the wall itself. No gate is visible, and indeed there isn't one; only the Wall on Saldaea's southern border has gates still, Mieren had told us. Our search would have been futile.
That was Lanfear's real name, Mieren Eronaile. It was the name long lost to history, and the name she used in this slow-motion apocalypse, one that the guardsmen on the Wall would recognize. In this century, the Tower Guard was the largest standing army in the world, and most of it was relegated to garrison duty, guarding the Wall, or guarding Burners.
Burners, Mieren had explained to me—leaning conspicuously against me as we walked and grabbing my arm as if we were strolling in a garden park—were channelers whose talent lay in Fire, and specifically the heat required to 'burn' the Blight out of the ground, a blue flame, and any who could do it, Aes Sedai or not, became a Burner. Unfortunately, the Blight did not like being burnt out of the ground, and so animals and plants would go rabid, attacking the channelers, hence the Guard. Ostensibly, the Burners, divided up into different regions, were above nationality, acting in the interest of all mankind, which was why the nations of the Westlands allowed another nation's army on their land.
"Hail the Wall," Mieren cried out. "It is I, Keeper Mieren Eronaile of the Saldaean Tower, here to deliver two men into the Amyrlin Seat's charge."
A face peered suspiciously out a watchtower, then immediately darted back inside. Not three seconds later a horn sounded, once, twice. Off in the distance other horns sounded once, twice, a brief pause than sounding once more. Further off horns sounded again, repeating the pattern, but adding a second horn. And then, barely audible, a third pair sounded off. The sound of movement over the echoes of the horns in the foggy morning caught my attention, as soldiers suddenly appeared on the wall in padded vests, wielding long tubes of white on wood stocks interspersed with long-hafted spears.
They looked on us in silence, worry, confusion and excitement flickered across their faces.
"Hail the Wall," Mieren cried out once again, and my skin tingled as lights abruptly bloomed in the sky in the shape of some kind of pinwheel of green, red, yellow, blue and white. The man in the watchtower appear to be looking down at a sheet of paper, and then at the lights. For nearly a minute he consulted his sheet, before returning inside, and blowing the horn once. Once more the sound was repeated, each time an additional horn call added shortly after. The soldiers began moving all at once, ladders suddenly appearing in their hands before being dropped over the edge of the Wall.
"Apologies for the silence, Keeper Etonaile," the watchman called out, "but we don't much like talking to anyone until we're sure they're actually people. Mimics will trick you rotten, if you let them. Never seen an Aes Sedai mimic, before, though, or a Burner, or Kin. Never seen a channeler mimic at all, now that I think of it, not even a man one. But you're the first folks we've seen out of the Blight that walked it. Bet you all have stories to tell, no doubt." He was a horse-faced man with wide ears, and a curious gleam in his eyes.
"Our stories are for the ears of the Amyrlin Seat, my good man, not for idle gossip at the village pub," Mieren said cooly, and the watchman zipped up. Soon the ladders were ready, and the soldiers were raising a massive long white plank of cuendillar wide enough for a horse to ride and angling it so Mieren could ride up the Wall. I stared in awe at the coordination and ease with which the soldiers handled the awkward object, getting it in place and stabilizing it.
"Move it, scales. We got days to go til Tar Valon," Lan grunted, tearing me from my watching. I raced to join him in climbing the wooden ladder, the sound of horseshoes ringing like bells on the long cuendillar ramp behind us. Close up some soldiers still regarded Lan and I with suspicion, fingering weapons and as we clambered onto the Wall, the soldiers made pockets for us, holding their weapons tight.
A man with golden epaulets and a plume of red feathers on his helmet stepped forward, as Mieren angled her horse parallel with the Wall, and the men immediately began to slide the ramp back opposite the way it came.
"With your urgent message, I'll be sending an escort with you, at least as far as the River Erinin and further if you desire it. From there, you'll board a boat north for Tar Valon, Keeper Eronaile. Is that satisfactory?"
Mieren gave the man a disarmingly beautiful grin and the man's cheeks flushed as he stood a little straighter. "That is satisfactory, dear captain, and I will be glad to take the escort to Tar Valon. I suspect you shan't have another incident like this anytime soon."
The man chuckled. "A Keeper and two strangers, Warders by the look of them, walking out of the Blight? I think not. I can already tell the men are going wild with speculation."
Mieren gave him a calm smile, with a hint of teeth. "And speculation is what you'll have to be satisfied with. Loose lips sunder walls. I'm sure you understand."
"Of course, Keeper Eronaile. Of course. I will make sure no talk spreads."
She nodded primly, as if it was to be expected.
Within the hour, men in padded white lamellar armor surrounded us, riding horses with holsters for their long weapons, as we made our way back west for the river Erinin. Mieren called the weapons 'rifles' and claimed nearly any man could learn to use one, and many women as well. She informed a curious Lan how they used Illuminator powder to fire tiny arrowpoints at speeds that tear through armor, outranging a longbow, and with a faster reloading than a crossbow. They sounded murderous. Just another aspect of this fucked-up world revealing itself.
Day 42
A second wall of cuendillar, a hundred feet tall, surrounded Tar Valon, enclosing the bridge towns into a district called New Tar Valon. Centuries of refugees and growth had caused explosive expansion beyond what Tar Valon proper could handle, and the outflow landed in New Tar Valon. Mieren told me more, told me intricate stories of the web of politics between the different refugee Houses of the Borderlands, and the positives and negatives of the Amyrlin's industrial policies—too strict and protective—and other such blather as we had slowly traveled upriver.
I mostly ignored it, lost in my own head, my mind overfull with information. An entire world on the brink of the Shadow controlling all, with no Dragon to save it. It was a picture of what my world could turn into, if I did not return.
We rode amongst the soldiers on a strange type of ship called a paddleboat, large wheels decorating the sides powered by steam created by channelers, a pair of twins named Mera and Mery, of the White Ajah.
They stood short in trousers and loose blouses, broad-shouldered with bobs of honey-brown hair, their ageless faces signaling them as White Tower Aes Sedai, skilled enough in Fire, Water and Air to operate the strange mechanism that powered the boat. In this strange world, the White Ajah, nominally devoted to philosophy and reason and logic, abstaining from worldly matters, had become the near-sole operators of the complex mechanical engineering behind the ter'angreal that powered this kind of boat, and other industries within the expanse of land Tar Valon controlled. And they were keeping quiet about how it worked.
That morning, as the twins were reapplying their weaves, I asked Mieren to enter into a Circle with me so that I may watch, and she obliged. I watched fascinated, as the twins wove intricate whorls and wefts of Air, Water and Fire into a massive nested mandala corresponding to the intricate mechanisms of the ter'angreal.
We were not nearly the only boat, and while many were simple riverboats, once or twice-masted, there were also massive paddleboats bearing long white containers of cuendillar, or soldiers milling aboard their deck, plying the river as well, belching out white clouds of steam from their chimneys. The traffic was neat and orderly, for as much as it could be in such a busy river, two streams of ships; one entering the massive white gate on the river and one exiting it. Both types of paddleboats had strange tubes of white cuendillar that Mieren called cannons and said they could fire an iron ball through a wall. Well, a wall that wasn't cuendillar.
So many strange things, some of which seemed almost vaguely familiar to me, like a long forgotten dream. Lan had spoken up then, asking more details on cannon, their use in combat, and how to make them. Mieren seemed almost gleeful to tell Lan in excruciating detail how to forge a cannon from simple bronze or iron, and waxed poetic about their capabilities as siege weapons and shock weapons in the field of combat. A soldier, a well-built man in his early thirties with a close-shaven beard, piped in, claiming them the kings of the battlefield, capable of laying waste to masses of foul creature, Whitecloak and Darkfriend alike, with dreaded 'canister shot.'
Canister shot was a spread of iron balls shot out of the cannon, travelling at high speed, tearing through bodies and armor like they were paper. It sounded like a nightmarish weapon, apparently invented by Tar Valon Illuminators, who were a much more militant organization than in my world. They had sole authority to manufacture and create and distribute 'firearms' like rifles and cannon—with Aes Sedai supervision, of course. Not that it stopped other nations from making shoddy replicas, or eventually finding out the secret of explosive powder over the last two centuries. I tuned out the horrid sounding weapons, while Lan dug into the nature and manufacture of such things and Mieren eagerly provided.
Instead, I took to singing, softly at first, then louder as soldiers encouraged me, some singing along when I sang a familiar song, all listening when I sang a dream song as the lyrics were often strange, until it came around again. Then some tried to join in. I wish I had learned the bittern, so I could play an approximation of the melodies, but all I had was my voice. Still, it was relaxing, to sit in the sun amongst a group of men, young and old, and sing. When I glanced back, Mieren watched me with an unreadable expression.
That day, after about four hours of puttering slowly as the sun rose, waiting in the long line of river traffic, we made it through the gate—Mieren flashed the colored lights again, in a slightly different pattern and got an immediate nod to go through—and inside New Tar Valon. Docks and shipyards lined the river, forcing traffic deeper into the river, as we made our way to the curved, graceful docks on Tar Valon itself. When we finished docking, men with the Flame of Tar Valon on their breasts waited for us on the quay, alongside a group of Aes Sedai, one from every Ajah, and a dark-skinned, white-haired woman wearing a thin green stole around her neck.
She introduced herself as the Keeper of the Chronicles, Alanna Mosvani, and I recognized the name and her still-ageless face with shock. The introductions of the other Aes Sedai pass as a blur, as the realization Moiraine will look similar hit me. That I was going to see Moiraine again, hit me. It didn't matter that she wasn't the same Moiraine, that I wouldn't be able to feel her. I felt nervous and excited and anxious all at once.
An Aes Sedai, the Green sister—a short and slender bright-eyed dark-haired woman with an ageless face and olive skin—approached me as we walked from the docks into the city. "The reports say you claim to have walked the Blighted Grass. Did you happen to encounter many shaeraptare packs?"
"If by encountered, you mean slaughtered, then nineteen." Nineteen awful, horrible fights where if I wasn't quick enough with my trio then Lan would probably get injured, sometimes badly. He added to his scar collection more than once. "Bloody things are fucking savages. I cannot belive someone made them."
The Aes Sedai blinked. "You killed nineteen packs worth of shaeraptare with only the Saldaean Keeper and you two? You expect me to believe that? Two or three packs? Maybe four. But nineteen?"
"You can ask Mieren Sedai if you don't believe me."
The Aes Sedai sniffed. "I think I will take you up on that offer."
Two minutes later she returned mollified and calm. "Tell me more. What else did you encounter on the Grass? How many herds of horse did you see? Any signs of fauna the size of a stout wagon or larger? Deer or oxen or other herbivores?"
What is this Green? Secretly a Brown? Still, I answered the nonsensical questions the best I could.
As we spoke, the Aes Sedai led Lan, Mieren and I through streets and past buildings that seemed familiar from my previous visit, vast natural landforms and curving waves, into the White Tower, passing through crowds of young women in white dresses, led by older women in whose dresses held bands of color on the hem, and groups of petitioners in their finest clothes, from farm women to nobles. It was far busier than it had been in my world, but all moved when they saw Alanna striding steadily with her staff through the halls and up the ramp to the Amyrlin's study.
The entire time the Keepers whispered quietly to each other, and I half paid attention to Tower gossip and little snipes between the two women, as Mieren dodged question after question about who exactly we were, and what we were doing here. That was for the Amyrlin to know, she claimed. Lan seemed even more antsy than I was, rigid and stone-cold in his demeanor but for his eyes which kept jumping around, taking in everything.
It seemed like no time before we were there. The study was tastefully appointed in sparse gold and silver and Sea Folk porcelain, with paintings of different cities on the wall. I recognized a painting of Fal Dara, and another that looked like Caemlyn and a third wide painting of the graceful arch of the Whitebridge. There were no portraits, no people on the walls, just places. Cities, by the dozen. Some cruder than others, some large, some small. Painted, charcoal, sketch. All were visible from behind the desk.
"So you have called, Mother, I have come," Mieren said, curtsying before the Amyrlin Seat, who sat in a high-backed wood chair, behind a grand desk covered with organized piles of writing and work. Moiraine looked tired, more than anything else. Either her makeup was not good enough to cover eyeshadows, or she just did not care to anymore, but exhaustion had bruised the skin beneath her eyes. She still wore her kesiera proudly, the blue crystal hanging on her forehead, and her white hair was laced with stars and moons that I recognized as Lanfear's. I gave Mieren a questioning look, but she didn't reply. I wonder what the story is behind that change of ownership.
"I called you three decades ago, Mieren Eronaile, over your refusal to institute some version of the Three Oaths in that heretical sect you call a Tower. You refused me, as I recall. Me, the Amyrlin Seat. Claimed the Three Oaths were the 'strangling root around the White Tower's neck' in your polemic you spread amongst the Free Kingdoms," Moiraine said dryly. "And now you come waltzing in out of the Blighted Grass with a single horse and two men afoot right near opposite where you should be, in Saldaea. Where my friends have assured me you are as recently as a week ago. Tell me why I shouldn't have you thrown in cells, while I gather a quorum to strip you of your title for all the trouble you've caused me, have the two men examined for the taint, and start an inquiry into how long you've been a member of the Black Ajah."
Light but Moiraine is properly terrifying. It did not go unnoticed that Mieren made sure we were completely unprepared for this, by not telling us anything about the tumultuous history between the two women. A mistake that could cost us, another mistake I made. I need to do better, to stop stumbling through things.
If Mieren was worried, though, she did not show it. "al'Lan Mandragoran," she said.
Lan stepped forward.
"Ancient history is not what we're—" Moiraine stopped. Stared. There was recognition in her eyes. Confusion. Fear.
"How? How did you find such a mimic? Where did you find such a mimic?" I can feel the chill of women embracing saidar tingling up and down my arms, but Mieren did not bat an eyelid, and Lan just stared at Moiraine like a lost puppy that thought it found its owner. I kept my face calm and collected, but considered seizing saidin.
"May I introduce, Rand al'Thor and al'Lan Mandragoran, residents of another world and not mimics. I checked. You are familiar with Mirror Worlds, and portal stones, Mother, correct? For my less well-read sisters, Mirror Worlds are the worlds created by the Pattern to reflect different choices made, worlds like ours, where the Dragon Died, or so the Forsaken on their thrones claim. These men arrived at a portal stone in the Braemblight and walked north, skirting the Wall til I met them in person. When I learned who they were in their world, I knew you would like to meet them."
"Yes Daughter. I would like to meet such men who could survive the breadth of the Blight unaided. This does not absolve you, however. But to see my Warder again…" Moiraine stared kindly at Lan, her smile lighting up her face. "Hello, old friend. It is good to see you again. It has been a very long time. You look fit. I see you not only survived, but thrived, in the Blight."
"I never thought I would see you in this room. You look tired. You are not getting enough rest. Is your Warder not taking care of you?" Lan's voice is low and measured, just like when he has to talk a stubborn Moiraine into doing something.
Our audience of Aes Sedai, quiet so far at the tales of other worlds, let out noises of shock. Even I was a little surprised with how familiar he was being.
She ignored the question, of course. Ever one to simply move past something. "How am I doing?" she asked. "So I am not also Amyrlin Seat over there?"
Lan shook his head. "You are happier than I have seen you in a long time, if ever. You are not the Amyrlin Seat, Siuan still holds the seat. You are a Blue Sister who travels the across the Westlands searching for the Dragon Reborn. You have a second Warder, whom you love. It is strange, but not bad. As I said, you are happy."
The Keeper Alanna Mosvani grinned at the mention of a second Warder, before smoothing her face.
"A second Warder? Surely I am not that much trouble, am I?" the Amyrlin Seat said with a frown. "What sort of man is my second Warder? What sort of man would another me fall for?"
Lan glanced at me, and Moiraine immediately caught on. "Oh, he is in the room as well."
Quickly I dropped to one knee, left hand on sword hilt, right fist pressed to the patterned rug, and bowed my head. "As you have summoned me, Mother, so have I come. I stand ready."
Moiraine stared at me quizzically, before smiling politely. "A polite young man. You may stand." I stood, hand itching to touch my hilt. She stared at me for maybe fifteen seconds, those hawkish eyes of hers pouring over me. I felt naked and exposed for those moments, like she could read every single thing about me. Then she gestured at the chairs that sat arranged around her desk in an arc. "Please, take a seat. Lan, Rand, Keeper Eronaile. You've had a long and difficult journey and are deserving of rest, at the very least."
"Thank you, Mother." I bowed my head, then, as Lan had told me, glanced at the chair and touched my sword. "By your leave, Mother, I will stand. The watch is not done."
Aes Sedai muttered and whispered to each other about old traditions, as Lan adopted the same stance, and repeated me.
"Well, I don't have any reason to deny you," Mieren said, taking a seat. Moiraine ignored her, looking me dead in the eyes.
"The rest of you, may go. The rest of this meeting is private, and I expect you to keep quiet about what you have heard, until the proper time. Except for you, my Keeper." The Aes Sedai froze in their mutterings and promptly curtsied, before a wave of "Yes, mother," filled the room.
Once the door closed, the Amyrlin Seat leaned forward. "With the Tower's gossip quota fulfilled, I don't suppose you'll actually tell me what this is all about Mieren. How can you explain your actions away? I'm rather interested in what actually happened that caused you to meet my dead Warder and my supposed second warder, who appears to be an Aielman with a sword. An impossibility."
"Portal stones. They can be used to travel both to different worlds, and different portal stones in the same world. I was tracking them, and started following them because they seemed interesting."
"Is that how you do it, then? Appear in the most inopportune places? Are you using portal stones?"
Mieren nodded, not saying a word.
The Amyrlin Seat raised a brow, leaning forward. "I'm rather interested in you saying the words. Usually you're much more eloquent, Mieren."
"I use portal stones to travel. I know how to operate them, to travel between different portal stones in the same world," Mieren said awkwardly.
"I am an Aes Sedai, dear. I can sniff a woman trying to lie by telling the truth a mile away. Why ever would you try acting like a true Aes Sedai now, of all times? And so poorly at that?"
Frustrated, Mieren turned to me. Moiraine and her Keeper followed her gaze.
I answered, "I bound her by three oaths, Moiraine Sedai. She is not who you think she is. As long as I can get your oath not to harm me or Lan, I will let her answer any question you have."
Moiraine said it easily. The Keeper was more reticent, but after a brief exchange of glances, acquiesced.
"Answer the Amyrlin Seat's questions freely," I ordered Mieren. The woman had the audacity to look sulky. Moiraine cooly watched the interplay.
"Who are you, then?" she asked in that cool calm voice of hers.
"I am Mieren Eronaile." I gave her a look. "But my other name is Lanfear."
The room's temperature seemed to drop, and Moiraine did not take her eyes off Mieren as she asked me, "And you let her live?"
"I burned the Shadow out of her, cutting her off from the Dark One. Then I bound her by oaths sworn on a Binder. To obey the Dragon Reborn, and the Dragon Reborn's wives. To do no harm, except against Darkfriends and shadowspawn. To speak no word that is not true."
"The Dragon Reborn is dead. For all we would wish to claim otherwise, it is the truth. He died a babe on a mountain, cold and alone," Moiraine said bitterly.
"The Dragon Reborn is dead in your world. Not in others." Mieren said.
The Amyrlin caught on quickly, the slight widening of her eyes the only sign what she said next shocked her. "That is why she bonded a second Warder. I would bond the Dragon Reborn, if I was certain I could. What proof do you have to back such an extraordinary claim?"
I raised my palm and pulled up my coat sleeve. "I am marked once by heron and once by dragon. I was born on Dragonmount, born of the blood of the Aiel, and raised by the blood of Manetheren. I am the Dragon Reborn."
"This does not change you let a Forsaken walk into the room with the Amyrlin Seat! How can we be certain she is truly under your control? How can we be sure you aren't mad or turned to the Shadow?" Alanna said from where she stood, by Moiraine's left.
"Mieren, tell them something you wouldn't want them to know."
The woman grimaced, and grit out, "Only the Ghealdandor Tower and the White Tower don't have an active cell of Black Ajah."
Both women looked shocked. "So many, so soon?" Moiraine intoned.
"Tell them something else. A few things."
She cast a furious glare at me, then spoke as quickly as possible. "Prince Fyzetz is a Darkfriend, I've been grooming him to be a Dreadlord as he can channel. Misvola Federwyne, the Keeper in Tarabon, is Black Ajah. Imperial Tear plans to take control of the 2nd Burners in Northern Cairhien. Their women are in nearly all positions of leadership, after attrition and 'accidents.' What Be'lal intends for them, I truly do not know."
There was silence in the room as Moiraine's eyes burned furiously and she thought so hard I could almost hear the effort.
"Alanna, send one of your young men to Tarabon to inform the inquisitor of their failure. I want Federwyne on the rack and naming names before she's been there for a day and night. Fyzetz is a known problem, but the fact he can channel was not. That will be enough to for a team of Reds to go into Saldaea. Make sure to include a Green or two. A couple of gunhands will work wonders. No contact with the Saldaean Tower, I want no leaks." She took a deep breath and sighed, rubbing her face. "As far as the 2nd Burners go, I knew permanent non-partisanship was a feeble dream, but I will not let Be'lal simply take control of some of the most powerful Fire channelers in the land. We need to prepare to recall all Aes Sedai inside the 2nd Burners. Any who refuse, consider compromised. Inform Lady Amalisa of the Kin, so they too may prepare whatever response necessary."
Alanna grimaced. "Yes, Mother. I'll send Jaime. He needs the fresh air and sun. He can take a letter to the Lady informing her. I will inform the sisters of their duty myself."
Moiraine nodded. "Now that's dealt with, let us discuss exactly what the Dragon Reborn of another world is doing here? What is it you expect from us, from this wounded world of ours?"
"I was sent by the Lanfear of my world, as a test. It was to see if I was strong enough to survive, I believe. Except Lan and I survived too well, and so the Lanfear of this world simply watched us. Is that not right, Mieren?"
She nodded, "Yes. I've been checking in on them for weeks, through the use of Traveling."
At the casual mention, Moiraine's brow twitched, and Alanna looked intrigued.
"As far as what I'm doing here, apparently there is a portal stone on the grounds and I wish to use it to return to my world. I am needed in my own world."
The Amyrlin considered me, cooly, seeming to sit tall on her chair, despite my standing. "And if I do not wish to let you go, Rand al'Thor? You claim to be the Dragon Reborn, a man that can channel. A dangerous thing to do." Her eyes held mine. She was testing me.
"I don't think you want to make an enemy of the Dragon Reborn. I don't think you want to hold me either, not really. You're just seeing if I get angry or haughty. I'm not here to play games."
"Well, you are somewhat correct, but neither do I want the only hope of the world to run off just after he has arrived. And a man who can channel… That I simply let you sit here at all, unmolested, is nearly unthinkable. Yet I must and more, if you truly are him."
"And if I promise to return?" I offered.
"Promises kept are gifts, and promises broken less than nothing."
"I need to wait for my wives to arrive. They are making their way, slowly. I can stay for as long as then, but I will return."
"You can feel them, like a Warder?" Alanna asked, curiously.
"I am the Warder of three wives. If I was an Aes Sedai, I would surely be Green. Two of them are making their way here, and a third is a Novice of the White Tower."
"A Novice, with a Warder?" Alanna said, baffled and scandalized.
"We bonded before she was even a Novice."
That truly shocked them. "And I simply let this happen?" the Amyrlin Seat asked. "That does not sound like me."
"You encouraged it."
Alanna laughed, a loud cackle. "Moiraine! Bonding a second Warder as a Blue sister, and letting a sparker bond the same man before she even entered the Tower. Sharing your Warder, for Light's sake. Are you secretly a Green, and we just never knew?"
"This is not me, but some other Moiraine Damodred, my dear Keeper, and one that sounds half-wild," the Amyrlin Seat replied calmly, a hint of sternness in her voice. She kept me locked in her gaze. "And it does not matter. The question is whether Rand al'Thor, claiming to be the Dragon Reborn, will be allowed to leave, using the portal stone on the White Tower's grounds. And whether he is truly the Dragon Reborn or a charlatan. I will need time to think on this."
I was more than a little offended at the implication I was False, but I ground my teeth and let her speculate.
"In the meantime," she continued, "you two will be provided a room on the outer edge, far from the bustle of the Tower. If you wish to travel beyond the walls of the White Tower, an Aes Sedai and Warder will accompany you into the city. You may visit the Tower grounds, including the Warder's training yard and the range at any time, but do not create a bother or offend the Gaidin, or those privileges will be revoked. I will give you leave to carry your swords unbonded on Tower grounds, as you are Warders, no matter how unusual the circumstance. When your… wives arrive, notify me or my Keeper. You two may go now. Mieren, I think we have much more to talk about."
"Mieren, answer truthfully to the best of your ability, in assisting the Amyrlin Seat, today."
The woman stared daggers at me while Moiraine looked quietly pleased.
"Thank you, Rand. That should make this much easier. Alanna, would you mind finding an Accepted to lead these fine Warders to their new rooms in the Southern Refurb? Have her give them a room with two beds."
As the doors closed behind us, I heard Moiraine begin her interrogation. "Now, how exactly does one Travel?"
Day 55
A week and three days. That was how it took the Amyrlin Seat to invite us back into her study.
I only went out into the city once, followed by the same Green sister who walked with me to the Tower, Tatyana Byrdremov, who instead asked me questions about fighting Trollocs and Myrddraal while I picked out gifts for my wives; a collected Tales of the Horn that was a whopping nine-hundred pages for Egwene, a sapphire necklace for Moiraine, and a fine red leather coat that looked to fit Min, cut for a woman's figure. All purchased with Tar Valon marks Lan had secreted in pouches, and a stipend from the White Tower.
"Who's the lucky lady?" Tatyana finally asked.
"Three," I replied. "Three lucky ladies."
"Oh. I did not realize your world was so… permissive."
"If Green sisters can do it, why can't men? As long as everyone is happy, why should it matter if it's one woman with three men or three women with one man?"
She had the smooth, unruffled face of an Aes Sedai as she spoke carefully. "I suppose it would be easier for three women to tame a man, than for a woman to tame three men. Still seems… unnatural. Is such a thing accepted in your world?"
I told her truthfully no, but I wouldn't let that hold me back. "I will love my wives, each and every one of them, to my fullest." I then paused. "I miss them. I hadn't ever been without at least one of them around, until I came here." It was strange, and lonely, sleeping without them by my side.
In the rest of the week, instead I'd spent most of my time in the practice yards sparring with as many Warders and trainees who were willing to go in the ring with me. I invariably lost every Warder battle I took, but I learned the most from them, from the variety of weapons they wielded—not just single edge swords but a whole panoply of melee weapons—to the sheer variety of body types. I no longer fought men as tall as me, or the shorter height of the Shienarans, but a wide range, tall and skinny, short and stout, men bursting in rippling muscle, and men lean with whipcord muscles. Of course, melee weapons were not all they used in this Age. That day I decided to try out the range.
The range was a portion of the garden, cut and flattened, with cuendillar targets in the shape of different animals that roamed the Blight, and men of not only the Warders or their trainees, but the Tower Guard trained the accuracy of their weapons. And in the dugouts, learning to sight and reload a rifle, I was enlightened to why all those Warders and trainees wanted to fight me.
"Yeah, mate. They say you're the Amyrlin's second Warder, supposedly. Some even claim you're her husband. An Aiel Lord, but Aiel don't wear no swords, or fire no gun. Against their code, or something. I suppose you would know."
I wanted to groan. It was happening again. "I may be Aiel by blood but I was raised in the Two Rivers."
"Oh no way, I was born in Watchhill!" the guard, a young man named Tomlin, said excitedly.
I perked up. "Really? I was raised in Emond's Field!"
"Which part?"
"Oh, outside it, on a farm."
"Oh, out there, huh? Have a bunch of cousins that live in the Shade. And my sister, Bessim, in her last letter she said she got accepted as a Novice for the Two Rivers Tower, so she'll still have family while she's in Emond's Field. Big cities can be lonely."
I stared at him oddly. "Big cities? Emond's Field is a village."
He looked at me back just as oddly. "Yeah, before the Little Towers changed everything, and maybe out on the rural edge where you were, out in the Westwood."
I flushed, embarrassed. It's been two-hundred something years, Rand. Everything's changed. "Right. I'm an idiot, forget what I said."
He nodded and continued to coach me through using the long-barreled weapon when we were interrupted.
"Rand al'Thor?" a man in the livery of a Tower servant called out.
I turned and took in the two Warders beside the servant, both wearing the formalwear of Warders, a black coat emblazoned with the Flame of Tar Valon on their breast, button-up shirts the color of their Aes Sedai's Ajah—Red and Green—and tight-woven blue pants with high black leather boots. Holsters for pistols hung heavy inside their coats, visible in their clunkiness. Immediately, I took to the ko'di, and the Warders seemed to notice, tensing.
"Yes?" I called back from the dugout where I was practicing marksmanship.
"The Amyrlin Seat calls you for a formal meeting and inquiry in her study. If you would follow me and these fine gentlemen?"
I nodded, putting aside my weapon, and clambering out of the dugout. Our trip was quiet.
I entered into a study more full than last time. Four women from each Ajah stood in clusters, women of all shades and shapes, heights and hair color, staring at me as if I was a mystery to be solved. Moiraine stood in front of her desk, in a pale creamy blue dress, embroidered with thread-of-gold geometric patterns, wearing the stole of the Amyrlin Seat around her neck, her Keeper standing motionless beside her, her staff glinting in the lamplight.
I had long since filled myself with saidin, embracing the Oneness. I felt no fear in this moment, only recognition of danger. If they sought to gentle me, they would have another thing coming, came the errant thought skimming across the frozen void of my mind. I prepared torchflares, ready to release the weaves at a moment's notice.
"I have called this meeting, of the Sitters and their respective heads, to discuss one man and what is to be done. This is Rand al'Thor. He is the second Warder of my counterpart in a Mirror World, and chinnar'veren," Moiraine stated, voice firm and full of authority.
No one said a word, but eyes bulged and mouths puckered, and the Aes Sedai looked at me with new eyes, as if Moiraine had slotted in a puzzle piece. A Red spoke, a willowy beauty whose brown hair was streaked with gold and whose face betrayed no expression, though her voice filled with disgust. "So that is why you let these tainted men, your Warders, still walk ungentled, or even encouraged to volunteer. They are not yet close to the threshold and our sisters in the Burners can handle them."
Some of the Aes Sedai looked shocked at what the Red sister said, and a few gasped. Others kept their calm facade, or even smirked. I let it all wash over me. Let them bicker and fight.
The Red sister sneered at her fellow Aes Sedai. "What, do you think we Reds do not know what the Greens, Whites, and Blues are up to? We have sisters in the Burners just like you. They've learned, just as you surely have, Mother, my fellow Sitters, and the leaders of our respective Ajahs, that men make the blue flame far more easily than women. So we Reds let you find them and sneak your poor tainted men out, because without them, more sisters would die. Let those animals die first, I say. The only positive aspect of your entire scheme is they die either way."
Moiraine seemed unruffled. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Daughter, nor are you the first Red sister to tell me our dirty little secret is not so secret. Perhaps it will soon time to make it official. But that matters not, today. Today, this man that stands before you is chinnar'veren. Is he the Last Chinnar'veren? I do not know and only time will tell. Rand is, however, the Dragon Reborn, from another world than ours. While our Dragon died, others lived on, and this one was sent to our world through the machinations of the Forsaken Lanfear, to test him. He survived four weeks on foot in the Blight, alongside my counterpart's Warder, Lan Mandragoran. Now he seeks to return home, to use the portalstone lying secret in the gardens, to return to his world, and I have more than half a mind to let him, my Daughters."
The room exploded in uproar.
"You let the Dragon walk the Tower freely for over a week? Are you mad, Mother?" yelled the same Red sister that spoke before.
"Letting him go? After he just arrived? How could we?" a Yellow sister cried.
"Surely he can be convinced to stay, young men are easily ensnared even by a distinguished beauty such as yourself, Mother," one Green said blatantly, and the others nodded along.
"You met with the Dragon Reborn, without us?" cried one Blue sister.
This and more rung through the air until Alana smashed the Keeper's staff, eyes blazing. "You will not doubt the Mother so blatantly, nor speak over each other like nattering schoolchildren denied playtime! You are Aes Sedai."
That shut them up.
A White sister spoke up quietly, "He is truly the Dragon Reborn? He is not some trick by the Grand Alliance? What Prophecies has he fulfilled?"
Moiraine explained my birth, and I showed off my markings.
In the silence that followed, I spoke. "I will be leaving. But that does not mean I will not return. To think that entire nations lie in thrall to Forsaken, that the Blight covers the land like a slow-moving flood, makes my blood boil. I am the Dragon Reborn, and my infant counterpart may never have had a chance to stop this, but I do. I bear the Creator's Sacred Fire in my breast, an ember of the Flame Imperishable, of His Light. As a dragon chinnar'veren I can destroy, and purify the Dark One's works, until they are white ash or returned to the Creator's Light. That is my duty, as the Dragon Reborn, I believe. To purify or destroy the Shadow wherever I find it, and from the ashes usher in an Age of Light. Your world is in desperate need on an Age of Light, after centuries of Shadow. Let me leave and I will return to fight by your side again. Try and force me to stay, and I will never return."
Various faces of disbelief stared out at me from the crowd of Aes Sedai, and another Red sister asked the question many women in the room probably wanted to know. "Why is he not shielded and guarded? Why do Warders not watch his every move? Such disrespect, shown to a Tower that has treated him far better than it necessarily should have."
I was glad I held saidin and had taken to carrying the tiger everywhere I went
"I let this man do what he must, because he must. If he is bound and haltered by us too early, he shall simply bolt like he said. We must be willing to let him go, if we are ever to see him return." Then she focused on me.
"I see you think you can force an ultimatum on the Tower. And yet, if there was any man to do so, it would be the Dragon Reborn." She pursed her lips. "I will deign to let you go, for now, but do not expect to leave so easily next time. And yes, Mieren did tell me of your curious ability to purify blightfruit. I had some delivered, so you may demonstrate your gifts to the White Tower, and prove your gift comes from the Creator."
There was a tingle, and suddenly a horrible, rotted smell filled the room—or rather I suddenly noticed the smell that had always been there—as Moiraine opened a chest that had appeared on her desk. Inside were bulbus red and yellow and green 'fruit' of chaotic shapes, smelling rancid and overripe. I stepped through the crowd steadily as a wake formed around me, approaching her desk. Then I transformed into the Lord Form in front of curious, if slightly ill, Aes Sedai, to sharp gasps, and intakes of breath.
"I see why you took him as a second Warder now," Alanna muttered under her breath to the Amyrlin Seat.
I softened my flame in my mouth and gently blew the rainbow flame over the fruit, revealing apples and pears and strange oblong yellow fruit. Once I finished, I took a green apple and bit into the tart, juicy flesh. I then picked up a yellow fruit, and asked, "What sort of thing is that supposed to be?"
"That is a banana. It is a Sea Folk fruit, grown on their islands. We grow some in hothouses."
"How do you eat it?"
A tingle crossed my skin as a thin razor of air sliced the stem of the fruit and peeled it open like a flower.
"Thank you," I told Moiraine, presuming it was her, and took a bite. It was a creamy, soft fruit flavor with notes of vanilla. It was delicious. "Quite good. I have never had one before."
The light in her eyes seemed amusement as she took me in. "I don't suppose you would mind passing me the pear?"
I formed a razor-thin blade of air and chopped it into quarters, before floating it over to her, settling them gently on the desk. Her eyes never widened, as if a man channeling in front of her was an everyday occurrence, but I could feel the frosty glares on me from the surrounding Aes Sedai, and the icy tingle of saidar being embraced.
Moiraine took a bite, and gaze a pleasant hum. "Fresh and juicy, as if it had never come from outside the Walls. Would any of my daughter's like a slice of pear, or a fresh apple?"
In the silence I took another bite of the banana. None of the Aes Sedai spoke up, until Alanna said, "I could do for an apple slice or two. The pink lady."
I sliced up the pink and yellow apple into eighths and floated two over to the Keeper. Delicately she picked them up and took a bite.
Her eyes widened. "These are fresh and ripe."
That opened the floodgates of a certain type of woman, that is one who got off on having the Dragon Reborn slice and feed them fruit. I sliced up pears and apples, and peeled bananas for a dozen women of all Ajahs. One daring Green even tried to convince me to feed her 'by hand' but I refused, and even the other Aes Sedai considered her odd.
Then things took a decidedly unsettling turn. "Alanna, the door?"
There was a click, as the door locked. Some of the Aes Sedai glanced at it, but they didn't seem unduly concerned. "Some of you may be wondering why I called not only the Sitters but the Heads of each Ajah. The truth is Rand has brought valuable information to the table, through a Forsaken bound by the Oath Rod to obey the Dragon Reborn and speak only the truth. Mieren Eronaile is a traitor, a secret Forsaken that latched onto the Tower and parasitized it. She is Lanfear."
The room was silent but for gasps and cries of dismay, the women trembling, unable to process what they just heard; a Keeper, a Forsaken. An entire Tower lost to the Shadow, surely. It did not bear thinking about, but think it they must.
"And Lanfear had some interesting stories to tell, when I asked her some pointed questions. Tell me, my Daughters, if you had to guess which of you were still Black Ajah, who would you choose? Because I did not expect some of the answers I got."
I felt several women embracing saidar at once, and saw three women specifically turn to face Moiraine, anger, fear, and resignation on their faces. I wove bonds of Air around the closest, while Aes Sedai around her looked shocked. The other two were stopped by the Amyrlin and her Keeper, hanging taut and rigid in the air.
"Morwynna Cosgrove. Emly Shardan. Lissia Benned. As confirmed members of the Black Ajah by a traitor to the Light, you are stripped of your titles, and stricken from the records. You will be stilled by a Circle of your peers, and executed. My daughter's, you may begin."