Dragonbind: The Great Hunt

[Adullahan]

Adar 27, 998 New Era (May 9th)

I became aware of the sun first, moving across a cloudless sky, filling my unblinking eyes. It seemed to go by fits and starts, standing still for days, then darting ahead in a streak of light, jerking toward the far horizon, day falling with it. Light. That should mean something. Thought was a new thing. I can think. I means me. Who am I?

Pain came next, the heat of raging fever, the bruises where shaking chills had thrown me around like a rag doll. And a stink. A greasy, burned smell filled my nostrils, making my stomach heave. My head throbbed with pain above my right eye, slowly fading. What happened to me?

With aching, trembling muscles, I heaved myself over, pushed up to hands and knees. Beneath me oily ashes smeared into a horrific snow angel where I had lain, scattered and smudged over the stone. Bits of dark green cloth lay mixed in the char, edge-blackened scraps that had escaped the flame, and pure white bone gleamed in the afternoon sun. Did I kill someone? How am I still alive? I should be burnt! What happened to me?

My stomach twisted as I tried to brush the black streaks of ash from my clothes before considering it a lost cause. I cannot believe I just woke up in someone's ashes! I threw up a watery bile and feebly moved down the hill away from it and the remains of a dead body before I collapsed onto clean stone. Laying there I rested my muscles, and let the pain ebb and my stomach settle for a quarter of an hour, no thoughts in my head.

When I stood, my legs trembled but held my weight, and I slowly finished picking my way down the hill, using tree trunks for help. Each step I grew steadier, and more worried as I met and heard no one. Where is everyone? I had this feeling that someone important was waiting for me that urged me on. Birdsong echoed through the forest, and wind rustled the leaves, but besides that it was all quiet for long minutes.

I entered a clearing, half-filled by a great oak, and on the other side there was a white stone arch marked with teardrops of black and white, and a blackened, gaping pit. Maybe what happened to me, happened here too? Why can I not remember?

Beneath the great green and brown boughs of the oak tree were three women. The first, a pretty girl looked up with big eyes from where she knelt beneath the spreading branches, flowers in her hair, and brown oak leaves. She was slender and young and frightened. Something in my mind whispered she was the important one. There were two other women with her, one with haunted eyes and a long braid, still decorated with a few white morning-stars. The other lay outstretched, her head pillowed on folded cloaks, her own sky-blue cloak not quite hiding her tattered dress. Charred spots and tears in the rich cloth showed, and her face was pale, but her eyes were open, dark pools that drew me in. She was beautiful even in her obvious distress, unfamiliar looking even compared to the other two women.

All three women looked at me unblinking and intent, before the important one asked, careful and worried, "Rand, are you okay? You're covered in ash."

It was like lightning struck me at that moment. "Oh. Right. That's my name," I realized, before pain erupted in my head and a pressure built. I cried out and fell to my knees, clutching my head as the pressure ascended to a fevered pitch before I mercifully lost consciousness.

---

When I came to awareness, I was floating in a dim gray void unable to move. I panicked, and called out but nothing replied. I was alone, until memories of what must be my life played before me as moving paintings, misty and faded.

The smiling face of a red-haired woman who may be my mother, seen only briefly, then dead and buried. Why can I not remember her name?

Working with my father, Tam al'Thor, on our farm, tending the sheep, keeping the tabac plants healthy and growing in the heat of summer, curing the tabac in the fall and preparing wood for the cold winters that come out of the Mountains of Mist. My father taught me how to sling a stone before I began tending the sheep and started me a year earlier than other village boys with a bow. He taught me how to be almost as good as he was with the Flame and the Void, a meditation technique he learned from his years outside the Two Rivers.

Hunting birds and rabbits and squirrels, in the summer and fall, picking roots and mushrooms for stews, forest okra for pickling. Reading old books and histories in the depths of winter, Tam's rough singing voice lulled me to sleep. Riding the cart into town when I was younger, walking beside it when I was older, as our farm was far from the village of Emond's Field. Why so much about my father, yet nothing of my mother?

Before me I saw 'Mat' Matrim Cauthon, who grew up to be a lanky teenager, all limbs and grinning eyes, though not nearly as tall as Perrin or I. Vague memories of him played before me like a moving painting, the background muddled and the voices like a thousand snakes hissing. Mat was the one that always got me and Perrin in trouble for helping with his pranks and jokes played on Emond's Fielders, yet he always seemed to get away mostly clean with pranks he did himself. He was a trickster and storyteller, and could not keep a secret for too long. I feel like I barely know him.

Then the paintings showed Perrin Aybara, curly-haired and quiet boy who grew up to be a broad-shouldered and muscled blacksmith's apprentice taller than Mat, but not to my height, thoughtful but powerful when roused into anger. A kind big brother, a good listener, careful in word and deed. Quiet moments between us, long talks as we grew up, sharing punishments that Mat seemed to dodge. I see more than I saw with Mat, but the memory painting was still quick to finish. Light burn me, I cannot even remember my friends very well! Am I cursed…?

Next was Egwene al'Vere, my childhood best friend and the girl my father and her mother decided I would take as a wife. Short and slender, with large brown eyes that can glow with affection, pierce through lies, or burn you with anger, depending on how foolish she thinks you are being, long brown hair and dusky skin, a bright white smile. She is the important one. The Rand of my memories took a long time to realize her beauty. I watched Rand, me, foolishly withdraw from her, finding myself embarrassed that I could not stop staring, being unable to speak with her as my tongue would lie fat and heavy in mouth. I some silly resentment about my future wife decided when I was a child simply because we were close, even though I cared for her! I was truly foolish. If I, when I see her after this somber void, I will fix whatever distance has grown, I swear.

And finally, the memory painting showed me the Wisdom Nynaeve al'Meara, older than all of us by half a decade, young and beautiful for a village Wisdom. No one was foolish enough to say that to her face, however, after she whipped a couple older men, including a member of the Village Council, with her switch. Slender, with long dark hair braided, dusky skin and dark brown eyes like some Emond's Fielders, regardless of her beauty she had a stern, no nonsense attitude that almost demanded respect which the village gave as she was a wildly successful Wisdom, her healing nearly always worked and she correctly predicted the seasons for years, until this spring. She's not even close to me, she's closer with Egwene… why would this gray void show me her?

The next parts of my memories come in snapshots of vivid reality, accompanied by general information, revealing why these four were the ones I remember.

A horrific beastman splintered the front door with a wicked looking sword. Shadowspawn attacked the farm. They looked like men made into beasts, disturbingly human hands or eyes, with awful hateful faces of eagles and dogs and boars and only the Dark One knows how many other animals.

My father, on a hastily made travois, claimed he found me next to an Aiel woman on the Dragonmount and took me home. Tam is my father. It was just the fever.

The Aes Sedai Moiraine that saved the village was the only one who could heal Tam, so I made a desperate bargain and agreed to come with her. Aes Sedai, women who can channel, who can use the One Power that broke the world. Whatever was she doing in Emond's Field? She must be the distressed woman beneath the oak.

The shadowspawn came for me, Mat and Perrin. A desperate midnight horse ride as a terrifying bat winged man flew right overhead and scattered our horses. We had to leave with the Aes Sedai. There was no other choice. Farm boys cannot fight the servants of the Dark One.

Anger boiled as Moiraine Sedai taught Egwene about the One Power around the campfire at night. I could feel her leaving me behind and felt jealous, angry that she was giving up our home, when I had no choice.

Learning the basics of swordplay from Lan with my father's sword. He and Thom trained us that week, each evening at camp. I don't know why my father had a heron mark blade, the sword of a blademaster, but it is mine now. I must live up to it.

Ba'alzamon, a handsome man with eyes of fire, and the rat. A horribly real dream that I wish to never think of again. He was the Dark One, and he had much to tell me, to show me The things he said…. They were lies. He is the Father of Lies. I shall not believe him, never. I have to believe Moiraine protected us, she does seeks to use us for good.

A beautiful woman with short cropped hair and boyish clothing yelled that I cannot escape her. She claimed Egwene and I were not fated to be. That is wrong. She must be wrong. She will be wrong.

We fled hundreds of Trolloc beast-men into the cursed city of Shadar Logoth, and the desperate retreat through the killing fog. A night as horrible as Winternight, if not worse. That fog…. That was as unnatural as Ba'alzamon, but with unthinking hunger instead of powerful madness, I am just glad it found Trollocs good eating.

After we survived Shadar Logoth we found a boat and spent the trip learning the flute and gleeman tricks. But a Halfman had been looking for us, and Thom gave his life for Mat and me. He was a good man, paranoid of Moiraine, but a good man. I wish I remembered more of him.

Sleeping rough, playing at gleeman with Mat for food. The Darkfriends that found us on the road kept us fearful and moving. Mat is getting worse each memory, more closed off and sickly.

Caemlyn and Loial the Ogier, a human-like being ten feet tall, with long bushy eyebrows and a clean face, a fellow lover of books and more well-read than I by far. I found him a fast friend in our days together. I needed one with how sick Mat was, and the stress of the journey. Loial sure is a big fellow though.

In the Royal Gardens of Andor with the beautiful Daughter-Heir Elayne Trakand, and her brothers, after falling. Light but she is beautiful as well. What is with these beautiful women appearing near me?

The beauty of Queen Morgase, with her stern Red Aes Sedai in the Andoran Court who predicted "pain and division come to the whole world" and that I stand at the very heart of it. I dread what will happen next, this desperate journey seems to be nothing but danger, not adventure.

Entering yet another cursed location to escape the servants of the Dark One, this time into the Ways: a series of pitted and worn roads through a dark void that connected different Waygates, haunted by a vile entity known as the Machin Shin, the Black Wind. It was dark, and cold, and when it stopped being quiet, that was when the Black Wind came. The screams, what the Wind spoke of… I wish I did not remember it. I shuddered there, hanging helplessly.

We rode through empty farmland in Shienar, and through the packed streets of Fal Dara, refugees and soldiers everywhere. I had never seen so many people in one place, all packed tight inside the walls. Abandoned farms everywhere, fleeing the oncoming invasion of shadowspawn.

The peddler, Padan Fain, shifted from sniveling madman to an oily arrogance at the drop of a hat, seeming a different person entirely. He disturbed me greatly. Something is truly wrong with him.

I eavesdropped on Lord Agelmar telling Egwene and Nynaeve about Lan's royal history, the last king of a dead nation, Malkier. Strange to think a lost king of a nation fallen to the Blight, that rotten fetid, foul land tainted by the Shadow, taught me the sword.

Fear and shock as we learned that Ba'alzamon ordered Fain three years ago to find Mat, Perrin and me. To think that the peddler had hunted us, changed by Ba'alzamon. I should not wish death on anyone, but he deserves it, for sending me on this cursed journey that ended with my memories scattered and ruined! I will kill him if he is not already dead. This I promise. Anger curled around my heart like a satisfied cat.

The memories were rapid flashes of feelings and images now, of the sweltering heat of the Blight and the horrible twisted plants that lived inside it, of the shrill hunting cries of the dread Worms, of a desperate ride through violent trees, my father's sword cutting through the writhing limbs like a knife through butter. Flashes of green leaves and white flowers and a walnut eye. Ba'alzamon with an umbilical cord of Darkness stretching out into a deep endless Shadow. A great cord of Light attached itself to me, and with it I made a sword to cut down Ba'alzamon. And then I was alone in the gray void.

Did I kill the Dark One? That seems unlikely, as something connected to him, something more than him. As much as it burns me to think the thought, maybe Ba'alzamon is a Forsaken or some kind of body for the Dark One to walk the earth? I shivered at that thought and whispered into the gray silence, "Hand of the Creator shelter me, I walk in the Light."

Either I fought the avatar of the Dark One, or a Forsaken, one of the Thirteen Aes Sedai who turned to the Shadow in the Age of Legends and fought in the War of Power that ended the Age. Light illumine me how I bloody won? I hung for some time in that gray void, wondering how I got from the Blight to the uncorrupted woods I had found myself in, wondering what was happening to me, how did I still live, or do I float even now waiting for the Creator to reach consensus on my new role in the Wheel?

The memories I had watched lay within me now, but felt distant, off. That made me worry I was no longer the Rand I used to be. Would my friends still care for me? Would they distrust me? Maybe they should, I thought bitterly; I think I channeled, to make that sword of light…

In the space between one moment to the next, a great flame two stories tall, the size of a pleasant village inn, appeared before me. It was of a strange, mercurial color, a shifting rainbow of flame that quickly enveloped me. Though I cried out I did not burn, feeling only pleasant warmth and a sense of bone-deep comfort rush over me. Feels like warm winter nights by the fire, reading with Tam or drinking cold cider from the Winespring Inn's cellar with Egwene as children in the summer.

"Rand al'Thor, I come in peace," the flame spoke into my mind, in a language of spark and ash and crackling wood that I somehow understood. "I am the Iridescent Flame, a Dragon Spirit of the Creator, who Spoke the Word, who Sung the Song that was Sundered, who Built the Wheel that Turns the Universe. I come wreathed in the Flame Imperishable. Be not afraid."

I began to panic. Dragon Spirit? Like the Dragon Lew Therin Kinslayer, who Broke the World? The Light save me from cursed spirits. I assumed this thing must have trapped me here. And Sung the Song? When did the Creator sing a song? What is this nonsense? "Why are you here?" I could not help shouting this 'spirit', "And why can I not remember everything? What happened to me? What did you do to me?"

The spirit sounded somehow disappointed in their crackling flamespeak. "What did I do to you? Nothing at all. When you battled the Forsaken Ba'alzamon in the dreamshard you pulled on too much of the One Power, and almost burned yourself out when you dealt the final blow." I wanted to deny the spirit and claim I never channeled, that I was not cursed to die from madness. This could not be happening. Forsaken? Not the Dark One? And what is a dreamshard? What is happening?

The Iridescent Flame grew excited then, a bright and roaring fire. "You wounded him heavily and he will take some time to heal. His connection echoed the blow in the Dark One himself, and in the Dark One's corrupted works." The spirit then sounded inordinately pleased with themself. "In this moment of brief respite from the Shadow, the Creator sent ME to deliver His Chosen One gifts and boons. He wishes the Dragon Reborn to survive the Last Battle and usher in an Age of Light. And Dragon Spirit to Dragon Reborn, I wish to impart a gift to you as well." I wanted to deny that I was the Dragon Reborn but I could not make myself say the words, sputtering impotently. Blood and ashes, why can I not speak the words? It felt like something held my tongue.

The spirit's tone turned somber, the fire dying until it seemed nearly to coals. "Alas, the damage you did to your soul was extensive enough that the first gift is part of a soul waiting for another Age, what they could spare stitched into a lattice supporting your wounded soul."

Another soul, stitched into me? Am I even still Rand al'Thor? I shuddered with fear, and forced the thought away. This is simply another cursed part of this journey. I can get through this just like I got through Winternight and Shadar Logoth and the Ways and Ba'alzamon.

Suddenly, the Iridescent Flame sounded bored with me. "You are still Rand al'Thor, otherwise I would not be here delivering gifts to the Dragon Reborn. You may experience altered habits, moods, and emotions as your soul repairs itself. This is normal." Then with an abrupt switch back, the joyful crackling of logs on a winter fire sounded once more. "Thankfully, the damage was mostly not permanent! It was quite silly of you to push yourself that far. You only needed to wound Ba'alzamon. If you had even trained a little, you would have done much better. You're supposed to be a dragon, you know? The most powerful existence in the World, majestic and terrible and mighty, like me! It would not do you well to disappoint this Ancestor, little drake."

I was disturbed, disturbed and confused and worried. This was supposed to be a spirit of the Creator? A strange being who berates me for actions I do not even remember taking, jumping from one emotion to the next like some bizarre child, but must be older than I can even imagine? It is just another step, I told myself, Just another step on your journey. I still could not speak, but the spirit seemed to read my thoughts. What happened to the person whose soul I took? Is that why I woke up in ashes? What was I even supposed to train? Why would the Creator want me to be terrible? And what is this nonsense about ancestors?

The Iridescent Flame spoke authoritatively with some heat, sounding like logs thrown onto a roaring bonfire. "We only took most of the soul. We left behind the minority to regrow. And that is NOT why you woke up in ashes. Those ashes are the Forsaken Aginor, whom you burnt to a crisp with the saidin in the Eye of the World. Well done killing one of those despicable traitors to the Creator, to the Light, to Life! And channeling is what you were supposed to train. You're the Dragon Reborn, the most powerful male channeler of this Age, Rand al'Thor. If you had trained even a little, we would not be in this position." They paused, seeming to think for a moment. "But you rarely train before about a year of adventure. It is good that the Wheel wove this way. You should have a much easier time than previous Rands."

Previous Rands? I rarely train? My heart beat fast and I felt light-headed. ...No. No, I do not wish to know such secrets of the Wheel. I pushed those thoughts down deep and hoped they would not fester.

So I am the Dragon Reborn, and if I had embraced instead of running and scorning Moiraine Sedai and channeling, maybe things would be better. But I did not. I simply had to accept what the Iridescent Flame said. I could feel the truth in their words radiating like a beacon. I did not wish to believe I had been chosen, but a spirit of the Creator told me, so even as strange and scary as they were, I had to believe them. Otherwise I'm already mad. I am not mad. I'm not. What do I need to do? And what are the other gifts you have for me? I thought, more than a little worried. I'm not mad. Not yet.

The Iridescent Flame had the jolly feeling of a Sunday Bonfire as they spoke their answer. "The memories were a gift as well, what we could save. But more importantly, I am imbued with the Creator's Sacred Fire, the Flame Imperishable. Bask in His Light, for it will dwell in you, and with it I will refine your body and soul, like an alchemist turning lead into gold. You will be stronger, faster and better at everything needed for a Dragon Reborn; learning, adapting, training, all sorts of things I will enhance with this sacred fire. I've even left some gifts for you to figure out! Now, I've been told this is unpleasant for mortals, but that is the price of changing a person at their core, you know! You must become majestic and terrible and mighty, Rand al'Thor."

I stared at the ever-changing colors of the flame. So they are going to burn me alive to make me better and turn me into a man who can Break the World. I truly hope this is not a trick of Ba'alzamon. No, that comforting Light cannot be a trick. I have to believe. I am not mad. I sighed, not really having a choice, if I was to trust the spirit. Do it.

The flame sank through my skin, into my body and bones, into my head, and my soul, changing and purifying something inside me. I could feel it worming its way through everything, every piece of skin, every hair, into my ears and eyes and mouth, through organs I had never realized I even had, and every single little bone, I could feel all of it. Every moment I burned inside with an almost painful heat and a growing pressure. I could only float helplessly, waiting for the gift to end, as hours seemed to pass. By the time the Iridescent Flame finished their work, their flames had gone from a size comparable to the Winespring Inn to a size just larger than myself. When they stopped, the heat dissipated instantly, but the painful pressure remained and I felt like I was about to burst.

In front of me the Flame changed forms, turning into a strange rainbow-colored snake-lion with pointy deer-like antlers, a large mane of white fur, a scaled hide and four legs ending in five sharp claws that looked as clear as good glass. I felt a sense of awe, of pure violence and power from this creature and I tried to back away, flailing helplessly in the gray nothing I still floated in. The Flame ignored me and spoke clearly, like ringing glass, into my mind. "One last gift, one from myself, for the Dragon from a Dragon.

This I Foretell.

'The Flame of All Colors shall Gift the Dragon Reborn a heart.

Six are the women he shall bind to his heart,

Three lovers, two teachers, one enemy.

And with them bound, He shall shake the world with His Might,

for the nations of the world will submit or be brought to heel by His Majesty

And with His Power, He shall bring forth an Age of Light'.

This I have Foretold."

A Foretelling, a prophecy made with the One Power that a spirit spoke into existence just for me. I was flabbergasted and my thoughts raced. Why six women? Six women bound to my heart? Does that mean we are married? I began to breathe anxiously. Light, I cannot marry six women, even if a spirit foretells it. Six! Do dragons mate like that? Or do they marry? And I have to fight all the nations of the world? And start a new Age? I'm just a sheepherder with half my memories missing, I know nothing but that I cannot be mad because I would never think of this. My breathe came fast, and I began to sweat.

The spirit continued, ignoring my thoughts, "When you ignite your heart through binding once, you will become chinnar'veren, a Shapechanger. You will take the features of a dragon as a human at your choosing, called the so'shan: the Lord Form."

An image appeared in my mind, of a Rand with short gold antlers sweeping back from his temples, a dusting of red and gold scales around his eyes and jawline, ears long and pointed. His face was beautiful, more beautiful than my memories of mirrors. His hair was now bright red with golden streaks, a curly mane halfway down his back, and his scarlet and gold scaled fingers tipped with golden dragon claws instead of fingernails. His smile revealed sharp teeth and a rainbow flame held in his mouth. The antlers are strange, as is the dusting of scales, but I look quite striking, like a handsome villain in a tale the heroine almost falls for before he reveals his true nature. I doubt Egwene would like it. I look dangerous and strange.

"When you ignite your heart through bonding thrice, you will change your form into that of a Mandragon, the so'gaighael; the Battlemonster Form."

A scarlet and gold dragon stood in the shape of a man, nearly ten feet tall. His scales were red and gold and covered his entire body. The only clothing he wore was a black steel armored skirt with two great swords belted to it. He had a red and gold mane of hair cascading down his back, and from his reptilian snout leaked tongues of rainbow flame. Before him lay a hundred dead Trollocs cleaved in half and hundreds more fled. Now that is deadly! So many dead Trollocs, Winternight would have never happened if I was such a beast. I look like a dragon Trolloc without the disturbingly human features mixed in. A dangerous form and seems useful to fight shadowspawn with. But is it worth three wives? Saving, not damning, the world has to be worth it.

"And when you ignite it a sixth time, you will become a true dragon and no chain will ever bind you that you do not choose, as the so'unbunto; the Great Beast Form."

The dragon in my mind was a near identical copy of the shape the Iridescent Flame had taken, but in scarlet and gold with golden claws, and an aura of power and menace, spewing torrents of rainbow flame from the sky while floating lazily with no wings. It was hard to tell from the image, but it looked large, maybe sixty or seventy feet long. There was an encampment of strange looking soldiers in beetle-like armor, some melted like wax while many others dropped their weapons and fled untouched by the flame that lay around them. Lighting stuck the enormous beast three times in quick succession, followed by fireballs and blades of air that leave nary a scratch. The dragon casually waved a paw and a crack in the earth swiftly opened up, swallowing another part of the camp in seconds. I felt awe. I felt sick. I felt confusion. That's what you want me to become? That's what the Creator wants? To be a mighty beast that uses the One Power to cause mass death? I do not know if I can become this… Light illumine me, is that what you require of me?

There was no amusement in the voice now, only contempt. "If you are to survive the Last Battle and usher in a new Age of Light, it is what you must become, Dragon Reborn. Go to Toman Head, after your little girl playing at Aes Sedai drags you to Illian to make you King. Go to Toman Head to meet your destiny, or suffer in the tides of cruel fate, foolish little drake."

I shivered. To be named the Dragon Reborn, by a spirit of the Creator. To be cursed by a spirit of the Creator with a destiny. I wanted to weep, or scream, to or cry, or laugh, but the Iridescent Flame did not give me the chance, as they drove straight into my heart and into my soul, the sense of pressure popping with a bright searing pain that forced a scream out of my mouth that echoed into the real world.

 

[Adullahan]

Contains excerpts from the Eye of the World by Robert Jordan

---

Adar 27, 998 NE (May 9th)

I was screaming, on my hands and knees right where I had been before, except now Egwene was at my side. "Rand! What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Her hands reached out for me, but I fled from them on instinct alone.

After that moment I realized that I was no longer stuck still in that gray void, with that strange Spirit that revealed so much to me, that had changed me. I stood up, backed away, and laughed, before shouting "I'm alive, I'm back. I'm not mad!"

My body felt quite energized now, the aches and pains and bruises disappearing like dew on a summer morning. A warm weight sat in my right hand. Egwene stepped back at the shout, looking at me oddly, fear in her eyes and in the eyes of Nynaeve, while the Aes Sedai just looked at me with a chilling gaze.

"It's okay," I scrambled to tell Egwene, hands twitching with a desire to touch someone, to prove this is real. "I'm fine. I just. Something horrible happened to me just now, but I'm glad I'm back here and safe," I rambled, "safe here with you, Egwene, that is all I really need." I smiled at her, feeling relief.

Egwene looked at me like I was an idiot before she looked away, cheeks slightly blushing as she scolded me. "You wool-headed fool, are you sure you are okay? First you push me out of the way of that… man before running off with him chasing you. Then you scare me to death staring at us all confused and all beat up, stumbling to the ground like that and then screaming in pain, before jumping up with laughter. You want us to think you're mad, Rand?"

"I'm not mad!" I spoke, perhaps a bit forcibly and Egwene flinched. Burn me, I scared her. Calm down, idiot. She doesn't know. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to speak so loudly, but I am not mad, Egwene." I protested in a quieter voice.

"Let us sit down Rand, there is… there's a lot to talk about." She cannot possibly already know, I thought worriedly. I followed her, nerves squirming in my stomach and dread lurking in my heart.

I sat down in the green grass near Moiraine and Nynaeve, Egwene sitting tentatively beside me. I took a deep breath of clean air, enjoying the cool breeze in the spring sun, and frowned at the scent of decay. When I looked around, I spotted leaves turning brown and falling, fruits rotting off trees, flower petals dropping. Whatever protected this beautiful place, wherever we were, was dead. I turned my attention back to the women and decided to pretend my outbursts did not happen. They were all looking at me, waiting.

"Are all of you alright?" I asked, looking specifically at Moiraine, who was sickly pale with a scattering of purple bruises visible. Perhaps I should fear her, perhaps she will gentle me by sunset. But the Father of Lies told me the Aes Sedai would use me as a False Dragon, and he did not know my… parentage. He lied, and Moiraine had done nothing but act to protect me, even if it involved controlling me, even if she keeps all her secrets locked up tight. I vowed to myself that I would try to trust her in a way the old Rand did not; a new beginning even if she may not know it.

Her voice was soft, with a little rasp, like rusty bells, pretty but damaged. I found myself leaning in to listen to it, not having ever truly heard her voice in the memories. "Egwene and Nynaeve are fine, and I suffered more injury to my pride than anything else. Aginor was surprised and angry that I held him as long as I did, but fortunately, he had not time to spare for me. I am surprised myself, as he was known to be nearly as powerful as the Kinslayer and Ishmael in the Age of Legends." she said irritably. Her eyes were sharp and full of power, stuck in a frail mortal form. She looked beautiful in the moment, powerful despite the unfortunate circumstances that led her to be injured.

"The Dark One and all Forsaken," Egwene quoted in a faint, unsteady voice beside me, "are bound in Shayol Ghul, bound by the Creator…" She drew a shuddering breath. The Forsaken are not bound or not bound well if Ba'alzamon is supposed to be one. I almost spoke up but Moiraine beat me.

"Aginor and Balthamel must have been trapped near the surface." Moiraine sounded as if she had already explained this, impatient at doing so again. I nodded along. "The patch on the Dark One's prison weakened enough to free them. Let us be thankful no more of the Forsaken were freed. If they had been, we would have seen them."

I had to interrupt, to let her know what I was told. "That's not true, Moiraine Sedai. I saw Ba'alzamon. I thought he was the Dark One when I had those dreams, but when I fought Ba'alzamon today he was attached to a cord that went off into a towering shadow that was blacker than black and gave him power. It makes me believe he actually a Forsaken, maybe one who never was never really bound, if what he said in dreams was true. He's also mad, thinking he is the Dark One… or he was tricking me, tricking us."

Nynaeve looks unnerved, scooting away from me, while Egwene turned and looked worried for me. Moiraine sat up straight as she could, which was not very, looking me dead in the eyes,. "Tell me everything, EVERYTHING that happened to you."

I swallowed, before steeling myself. "If Aginor was wearing a green cloak, then I killed him. At least, I think I did. I woke up after my battle with Ba'alzamon, with no memories in stinking oily ashes and I was in a lot of pain. When I entered the clearing I did not recognize any of you, except that Egwene was the important person I was looking for. And when you spoke my name, Egwene, it was like you unlocked something and I knew who I was, but with it came intense pain and the moment seemed to last hours." I shivered, remembering again the burning. The flames worming in through every part of me, even my soul. Heat just on the edge below painful, and the pressure rising.

Egwene reached over and softly put a hand on mine. I did not move away, enjoying the comfort and the newness of the sensation. I do not have as many memories of anything as I wished. I paused, realizing who I sat with. I may lose Egwene with this next reveal. "Moiraine Sedai, this next part. I'm not sure you want anyone else to hear it."

"They know, I told them you could channel," she said dismissively, "they are to be Aes Sedai, so I see no reason to hide it from them." That sent shivers down my spine. Was she planning on gentling me when I confess? Did I survive Ba'alzamon only to die to an Aes Sedai? No, no I have to trust her. She has protected me. I felt the weight of her gaze, Moiraine's eyes fixed on mine with an emotion I could not read. I was panicking.

I glanced at Egwene, who sat frozen and wouldn't look at me. I took my hand away feeling the beginnings of a stinging loss deep in my heart, and the next moment she flung herself into my side, squeezing me tight. "I'm so sorry, Rand. I'm sorry. I don't care. Truly, I don't." Her shoulders shook. I patted her hair and held her close for a minute, taking the comfort to calm myself, before looking over her head at the other two women.

"The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills," Nynaeve said slowly, "and you are still Rand al'Thor of Emond's Field. But, the Light help me, the Light help us all, you are too dangerous, Rand." I flinched from the Wisdom's harsh eyes, sadness and regret like earthquakes shaking at my foundations, but I was already accepting the loss. I did not want to think about what Perrin or Mat would say. I did not want to think of it all. Will my father even be able to look at me when he knows I can channel? When he knows I'm the Dragon Reborn?

"That is only part of what I learned. The other is my place in the Pattern, Moiraine Sedai." I shuddered, my stomach doing loops. I am the Dragon Reborn. I am the man who Broke the World reborn. Light save the World from me.

Moraine was surprised, for once, and peered at me curiously. "I had suspicions about you from the first," Moiraine said. "Suspicions are not proof, though. After I gave you the token, the coin, and made that bonding, you should have been willing to fall in with whatever I wanted, but you resisted, questioned. That told me something, but not enough. Manetheren's blood was always stubborn, and more so after Aemon died and Eldrene's heart was shattered. Then there was Bela."

"Bela?" I said. What does the farm's horse have to do with me being the Dragon?

The Aes Sedai nodded. "At Watch Hill, Bela had no need of me to cleanse her of tiredness; someone had already done it. She could have outrun Mandarb, that night. I should have thought of who Bela carried. With Trollocs on our heels, a Draghkar overhead, and a Halfman the Light alone knew where, how you must have feared that Egwene would be left behind." Egwene squeezed tighter. "You needed something more than you had ever needed anything before in your life, and you reached out to the one thing that could give it to you. Saidin. The Dragon could channel, therefore the Dragon Reborn must channel as well. Neither of your fellow ta'veren showed the same signs." Nynaeve and Egwene both gasped in shock, Egwene stiffening under my arm.

I decided to dive right in, and tell my tale. Telling the group of my faded memories, and glossing over the gifts. "Then the spirit gave me a gift," I said, "the gift of a Foretelling. The prophecy spoke of me 'binding six women to my heart', to gain the power to transform into the extinct animal known as a dragon. All so that I will survive the Last Battle to usher in a new Age of Light."

"What exactly was the Foretelling, Rand. Tell me everything." Moiraine's eyes look fevered now.

And so I told her. Moiraine's eyes widened at a couple of the lines, Nynaeve was staring at me with contempt and Egwene let go of me, backing away to glare at me with those beautiful brown eyes. I felt helpless in that moment, at the fire in those eyes. I simply had to explain.

"I didn't ask for this Egwene. I already decided when I was viewing my memories that I needed to mend our distance I created on this journey of ours, and be honest that I care for you. I do not care if you become an Aes Sedai." Egwene's eyes teared, that hateful glare gone. My voice became slowly faster now, and I stared straight ahead at nothing, an almost cold feeling washing over me as my heart began to pound. "But the Iridescent Flame… they did not care what I felt, really, for all their claims of gifts. When they helped 'refine' me, what they actually meant was burn me alive inside every single part of my body, even those that I didn't even know of, while I couldn't move or even speak. I felt them all burning for what seemed like hours." In through the nose, out through the mouth, came an unbidden thought and I do just that, thrice.

I was calmer then. My heartbeat dropped, and I focused on the women. They all stared at me, Egwene and Moiraine with concern. Nynaeve's face was flat and I could not read it.

Moiraine spoke up then, concern in her tone as well, "Rand, you do not need to explain anymore right now. We can wait. Perhaps tomorrow you can ride your horse beside mine, while I lay in my litter."

I shook my head. "I should finish. There's just a little more. The spirit told me that when I…. Is there not a better word than bind? It feels not right speaking of 'binding women'." I looked uncomfortably to the Wisdom expecting a fountain of anger and got it, a newly fallen leaf crowning her braid fluttering as she tugged it with a red face, muttering rapidly on her breath. It was so funny looking I almost smiled before I caught myself. Do not give her more reasons to hate you, Rand.

Moiraine spoke up rather quickly. "It would be best to consider it a bond, and members as bond-mates or perhaps wife if they would rather that title." She said with a calm gaze on Egwene.

Bond? I guess I like that. I like the idea of that well enough. "Bond will work, Moiraine Sedai, thank you. After I bond with the first women, I will become a chinnar'veren, is what he called it. And I'll have my first form, the so'shan or Lord Form."

"What is a chinnar'veren?" asked Egwene.

"A shapechanger," said Lan and I startled, turning and reaching for my father's sword before I remembered who Lan was.

Lan stood just as tall as me but more heavily muscled, if not quite so broad in the shoulders. A narrow band of braided leather held the Warder's long hair back from his face, a face that seemed made from stony planes and angles, a face unlined as if to belie the tinge of gray at his temples. He had one of the Wisdom's bandages wrapped around his chest and he stood stiffly with some discomfort. "I've been listening. You have about three minutes before the rest come up, Moiraine Sedai."

Moiraine nodded, thinking for a moment, before stating, "Explain the chinnar'veren until they come," then seemed to close her eyes and drift to sleep.

And so Lan explained the history, of their origins, and got through the first two Forms before

"During the War of Power, the War that ended the Age of Legends, the Creator blessed humanity with the chinnar'veren. People began to be born with the power, over time and experience, to assume three different forms, or so, with enhanced physiques and strange abilities beyond human that were not the One Power, becoming great warriors who fought on the frontline of the War, leading men and women to battle, as the so'shan or the Lord Form, the first form of a shapechanger. Even until the Trolloc Wars, so'shan lead the armies of Jaramide, and Aramaelle from the front. The second form is called the so'gaighael, the Battlebeast form. It is described in writings most often as if Trollocs were made by the hand of the Creator, powerful beastmen lacking any obvious human characteristics, who stand as tall as Ogiers, and can fight off entire Fists by themselves, even if the chinnar'veren was no Aes Sedai. It takes years for a shapechanger to grow experienced enough to advance their forms, so they were—" Egwene was enthralled, looking to me excitedly.

Lan stopped as I saw Mat stride up behind him, holding what looked like pieces of pottery in his hands, Perrin with a large white cloth bundle in his hands and leading them Loial carried a large gold chest, ornately worked and chased with silver. No one but an Ogier could have lifted it unaided.

"So you're alive after all." Mat laughed. His face darkened, and he jerked his head at Moiraine. "She wouldn't let us look for you. Said we had to find out what the Eye was hiding. I'd have gone anyway, but Nynaeve and Egwene sided with her and almost threw me through the arch."

"You're here, now," Perrin said, "and not too badly beaten at all, by the look of you. Just covered in ash." His eyes did not glow, but the irises were all yellow, now. How strange. Egwene made a strangled noise. "That's the important thing. You're here, and we're done with what we came for, Whatever it was. Moiraine Sedai says we're done, and we can go. Home, Rand. The Light burn me, but I want to go home."

"It is good to see you alive, sheepherder," Lan added gruffly. "I see you hung onto your sword. Maybe I'll truly teach you how to use it, now." I felt a sudden burst of affection for the Warder; I barely knew him, and Lan knew, but on the surface at least, nothing had changed. I thought that perhaps, for Lan, nothing had changed inside either. I needed that.

"I must say," Loial said, setting the chest down, "that traveling with ta'veren has turned out to be even more interesting than I expected." His ears twitched violently. "If it becomes any more interesting, I will go back to Stedding Shangtai immediately, confess everything to Elder Haman, and never leave my books again." Suddenly the Ogier grinned, that wide mouth splitting his face in two. "It is so good to see you, Rand al'Thor. The Warder is the only one of these three who cares much at all for books, and he won't talk. What happened to you? We all ran off and hid in the woods until Moiraine Sedai sent Lan to find us, but she would not let us look for you. Why were you gone so long, Rand?"

I looked at Moiraine for help, absolutely certain I could not tell a worthwhile lie. She mouthed so'shan and I thought furiously for a long moment before coming up with a truth. "You've read a lot of books. Have you heard of chinnar'veren, Loial?"

His eyebrows jiggle excitedly and he gave me a wide smile. "Oh I have indeed, Fal Dara had a veritable gold mine of journals and histories of these shapeshifters. I managed to get a moment to read from one of the last journals before the Trolloc Wars, sent to Tar Valon and returned by the current Amyrlin, and it was—"

I coughed.

Loial looked startled and abashed, drooping. "Well yes, shapechangers. They were said to be a gift from the Creator to mankind during the War of Power, when certain people, after an…"—He looked at me with realization—"ordeal or trauma…will be able to transform partially into an animal, with three so, or Forms. The so'shan, the Lord Form was said to be mostly human with certain animal features, but stronger and more resilient. They were said to heal far faster and had strange abilities related to their animal that Aes Sedai of this Age call Talents."

I interrupted Loial, not wanting to risk a tangent. "When I face Aginor today, I found out I was a shapechanger, a shapechanger of a lizard that can breathe fire. Aginor did something before he burned away, that caused me hit my head pretty badly and I woke up with some memory loss. Then I stumbled out of the ashes and found my way here."

Egwene once again makes a frustrated noise, but this time I looked. She glared at me, and I knew exactly why: she was scrubbing ash from her dress.

"I told you what it was. You were the one that hugged me!" I protested.

"I know! That's why I'm so angry!" was her reply which made no sense at all, so I turned back.

"What does it mean, now that Rand's one of these Age of Legends shapechangers," Mat spoke cautiously, looking at the Aes Sedai. Perrin looked suddenly worried at that.

"It changes everything. It means Rand has been chosen to fight the Shadow. Lan will begin training him immediately. He will not be returning home with either of you, not for a long time," Moiraine said with the supreme confidence of a Queen pronouncing a new law.

Perrin and Mat turned to look at me to see my reaction, both clearly mad. I gave a sad smile and a shrug. "The Aes Sedai has spoken."

"Blood and ashes, you're just giving up?" Mat said scornfully.

I tried to stay calm. "I'm not 'giving up'. I'm just not stupid, Mat. It's better to be close to Moiraine Sedai than alone with the servants of the Dark One hunting me. Hunting us."

"You think she is safer?" Mat laughed incredulous. "Look at you, she led us here, and you burnt a man alive today, Rand! You're bloody mad to think being with her kind will keep you safe."

"I'm not mad!" I shouted back. "You're mad if you don't think we'd be dead or worse without her with us. Would you have survived Winternight? Can you fend off fists of Trollocs and Halfmen, Mat? Can you go toe-to-toe with Forsaken? No, so shut your fucking mouth." My heart raced, my hands shook. Mat turned the color of puce, but kept silent when Perrin put a hand on his shoulder.

The others watched us, Moiraine's eyes open, gazing at me. Loial looked worried between me and Mat, while Nynaeve had taken Egwene aside and spoke quietly to her, as Egwene shook her head.

"The Dark One and all the Forsaken are boun-" Perrin started.

I interrupted. "They are not. Aginor, Balthamel, and Ba'alzamon were all here today."

Mat scoffed at that, face frowning. "Ba'alzamon is the Dark One." Then he gave a sour laugh. "You are mad, Rand, if you think he was here."

Just ignore him. Just ignore him. Just ignore him, went the chant in my head, I focused on my breathing and calmed myself. I did not wish to lose all emotion and thought into the Flame and the Void, and found the breathing exercise useful, though I do not remember how I learned it.

"Egwene, Nynaeve, help me up. While the boys argue I would like to examine what exactly they found in the Eye." The girls brought Moiraine up to a sitting position between them.

"How could these things be inside the Eye," Mat asked, anger still sharp in his voice as he ignored me, "without being destroyed like that rock I threw?"

"They were not put there to be destroyed," the Aes Sedai said curtly, and frowned away their questions while she took the pottery fragments, black and white and shiny, from Mat. They seemed like rubble to me, but she fitted them together deftly on the ground beside her, making a perfect circle the size of a man's hand. The ancient symbol of the Aes Sedai, the Flame of Tar Valon joined with the Dragon's Fang, black siding white. For a moment Moiraine only looked at it, her face unreadable, then she took the knife from her belt and handed it to Lan, nodding to the circle.

The Warder separated out the largest piece, then raised the knife high and brought it down with all his might. A spark flew, the fragment leaped with the force of the blow, and the blade snapped with a sharp crack. He examined the stump left attached to the hilt, then tossed it aside. "The best steel from Tear," he said dryly. Mat snatched the fragment up and grunted, then showed it around. There was no mark on it.

"Cuendillar," Moiraine said. "Heartstone. No one has been able to make it since the Age of Legends, and even then it was made only for the greatest purpose. Once made, nothing can break it. Not the One Power itself wielded by the greatest Aes Sedai who ever lived aided by the most powerful sa'angreal ever made. Any power directed against heartstone only makes it stronger."

"Then how…?" Mat's gesture with the piece he held took in the other bits on the ground.

"This was one of the seven seals on the Dark One's prison," Moiraine said. Mat dropped the piece as if it had become white-hot. For a moment, Perrin's eyes seemed to glow again. The Aes Sedai calmly began gathering the fragments.

"It doesn't matter anymore," I said. My friends looked at me oddly, Egwene sympathetic, and it just made me wish I had kept my mouth shut.

"Of course," Moiraine replied, giving me a secret smile, like Egwene would when she knew something I did not. She carefully put all the pieces into her pouch. "Bring me the chest." Loial lifted it closer.

The flattened cube of gold and silver appeared to be solid, but the Aes Sedai's fingers felt across the intricate work, pressing, and with a sudden click a top flung back as if on springs. A curled, gold horn nestled within. Despite its gleam, it seemed plain beside the chest that held it. The only markings were a line of silver script inlaid around the mouth of the bell. Moiraine lifted the horn out as if lifting a babe. "This must be carried to Illian," she said softly.

"Illian!" Perrin growled. "That's almost to the Sea of Storms, nearly as far south of home as we are north now."

"Is it...?" Loial stopped to catch his breath. "Can it be...?"

"You can read the Old Tongue?" Moiraine asked, and when he nodded, she handed him the horn.

The Ogier took it as gently as she had, delicately tracing the script with one broad finger. His eyes went wider and wider, and his ears stood up straight. "Tia mi aven Moridin isainde vadin," he whispered. "The grave is no bar to my call."

"The Horn of Valere." For once the Warder appeared truly shaken; there was a touch of awe in his voice.

At the same time Nynaeve said in a shaky voice, "To call the heroes of the Ages back from the dead to fight the Dark One."

"Burn me!" Mat breathed.

Loial reverently laid the horn back in its golden nest. "I begin to wonder," Moiraine said. "The Eye of the World was made against the greatest need the world would ever face, but was it made for the use to which... we... put it, or to guard these things? Quickly, the last, show it to me."

After the first two, I could understand Perrin's reluctance. Lan and the Ogier took the bundle of white cloth from him when he hesitated, and unfolded it between them. A long, white banner spread out, lifting in the slightly warm breeze. I could only stare. The whole thing seemed of a piece, neither woven, nor dyed, nor painted. A figure like a serpent, scaled in scarlet and gold, ran the entire length, but it had scaled legs, and feet with five long, golden claws on each, and a great head with antlers and a golden mane and eyes like the sun. The stirring of the banner made it seem to move, scales glittering like precious metals and gems, alive, and I almost thought I could hear it roar defiance. A banner of the Dragon. Of my Dragon. My stomach dropped. Egwene gasped in recognition. This cannot be happening. They will know. They will know when Moiraine tells them.

Loial asked, "What is it?"

Moiraine paused, then answered, "The banner of the Lord of the Morning when he led the forces of light against the Shadow. The banner of Lews Therin Telamon. The banner of the Dragon." Loial almost dropped his end.

"Burn me!" Mat said faintly.

"We will take these things with us when we go," Moiraine said. "They were not put here by chance, and I must know more." Her fingers brushed her pouch, where the pieces of the shattered seal were. "It is too late in the day for starting now. We will rest, and eat, but we will leave early. The Blight is all around here, not as along the Border, and strong. Without the Green Man, this place cannot hold long. Let me down," she told Nynaeve and Egwene. "I must rest."

 

[Adullahan]

Contains excerpts from The Eye of the World by Robert Jordan

---

Adar 28, 998 NE (May 10th)

Dawn revealed devastation in the Green Man's garden. The ground was thick with fallen leaves, almost knee-deep in places, and the flowers gone except a few clinging desperately to the edge of the clearing. Little could grow in the soil under an oak, but a thin circle of flowers and grass around the thick trunk above the Green Man's grave. The oak itself kept only half its leaves, and that was far more than any other tree had, as if some remnant of the Green Man still fought to hold there. I wish I could remember him. The cool breezes had died, replaced by a growing sticky heat, the butterflies were gone, the birds silent. It was a silent group who prepared to leave.

I climbed into the bay's saddle with a sense of loss. It shouldn't be this way. Blood and ashes, we won.

"I wish he had found his other place," Egwene said as she mounted Bela. A litter, fashioned by Lan, was slung between the shaggy mare and Aldieb, to carry Moiraine; I would ride beside with the white mare's reins. The Wisdom dropped her eyes whenever she saw Lan glance at her, avoiding his gaze; the Warder looked at her whenever her eyes were averted, but he would not speak to her. No one had to ask who Egwene meant.

"It is not right," Loial said, staring at the oak. The Ogier was the only one still not mounted. "It is not right that Treebrother should fall to the Blight." He handed the reins of his big horse to me. "Not right."

Lan opened his mouth as the Ogier walked to the great oak. Moiraine, lying on the litter, weakly raised her hand, and the Warder said nothing. Before the oak, Loial knelt, closing his eyes and stretching out his arms. The tufts on his ears stood straight as he lifted his face to the sky. And he sang.

I could not say if there were words, or if it was pure song. In that rumbling voice it was as if the earth sang, yet I was sure I heard the birds trilling again, and spring breezes sighing softly, and the sound of butterfly wings. Lost in the song, I thought it lasted only minutes, but when Loial lowered his arms and opened his eyes, it surprised me to see the sun stood well above the horizon. It had been touching the trees when the Ogier began. The leaves still on the oak seemed greener, and more firmly attached than before. The flowers encircling it stood straighter, the morningstars white and fresh, the loversknots a strong crimson. That… That must be the Song the Creator Sung, or at least a part of it. Some small, greedy part of me wondered if Loial would teach it to me.

Mopping sweat from his broad face, Loial rose and took his reins from Rand. His long eyebrows drooped, abashed, as if they might think he had been showing off. "I've never sung so hard before. I could not have done it if something of Treebrother was not still there. My Tree Songs do not have his power." When he settled himself in his saddle, there was satisfaction in the look he gave the oak and the flowers. "This little space, at least, will not sink into the Blight. The Blight will not have Treebrother."

"You are a good man, Ogier," Lan said.

Loial grinned. "I will take that as a compliment, but I do not know what Elder Haman would say."

We rode in a single file, with Mat behind the Warder where he could use his bow to effect if needed, and Perrin bringing up the rear with his axe across the pommel of his saddle. We crested a hill, and in an eye-blink the Blight was all around us, twisted and rotted in virulent rainbow hues, like an awful fetid copy of that flame, the Flame Imperishable. I looked over my shoulder, but the Green Man's garden was nowhere to be seen. Only the Blight stretching behind us as before. Though I thought, for just a moment, that I saw the towering top of the oak tree, green and lush, before it shimmered and was gone. Then there was only the Blight.

I half expected we would have to fight our way out as we fought their way in, but the Blight was as quiet and still as death. Not a single branch trembled as if to lash at us. Nothing screamed or howled, neither nearby nor in the distance. The Blight seemed to crouch, not to pounce, but as if someone had struck it a great blow and waited for the next to fall. Even the sun was less red.

When we passed the necklace of lakes, the sun hung not far past its zenith. Lan kept them well away from the lakes and did not even look at them, but I thought the seven towers were taller than when he first saw them. I was sure the jagged tops were further from the ground, and above them something danced like a vision in the air, seamless towers gleaming in the sun, and banners with Golden Cranes flying on the wind. I blinked and stared, but the towers refused to vanish completely. The fight in the Malkieri was so strong even their buildings still fight the Blight while they can.

Moiraine had slept most of the morning, the quiet mumbling of restless dreams. But when we reached the seven towers, Moiraine spoke to me. "You can see them too, I see. You did this," said Moiraine quietly. "Be proud, Rand."

"I don't know how proud I can be. I almost killed myself," I muttered.

"And that was a foolish and dangerous thing to do, yes. Does not change the good you did, though. Even the dead kingdom of Malkieri acknowledges your blow."

We rode in silence for a minute, before I asked in a low voice. "What is your plan for me? You must have one. All Aes Sedai do."

Her eyes watched me, I could feel them on me though I kept mine forward. "I have many plans for you, but there are two that apply right now. I plan to become your advisor and teacher in politics and nobility and the Westlands, having been raised the niece of a King in a palace, and your advisor in the One Power, for a woman cannot teach a man but I can certainly give you advice and instruct you on the One Power's nature."

I thought about it. It made sense for her to teach me politics and nobility, and of the world, with my memories filled with gaping chasms and the remaining dwelt on farming. Politics were something I would eventually have to deal with, like it or not. Some people, somewhere, were bound to actually follow me and I will have to know how to lead. But I had hoped she could teach me something about channeling more than the basics, to help me while I wrestled with the One Power, the thing I feared, and needed to learn.

"What is the other plan?" I asked, after thinking for a while. The perfume of flowers and green growing things filled the air, and I felt relaxed enough to hear how she planned to crown me king, if what the spirit said was true.

"Illian. You bring the Horn to Illian, and the entire city will crown you king, a Forsaken could present the Horn and wind up crowned. With Illian under your control, you will have a nation, a people, and an army to back you. A foundation for whatever form of new government, whether the Covenant or the Empire or something completely different. And I will be there to advise you every step of the way."

I did not know what the Covenant was, or the Empire, nor did I have any idea about government but the Village Council and the Women's Circle. Would they even work on that large of a scale? I shook away the thoughts; It did not matter now, it was something for Future Rand to deal with. "I see. That gives me a lot to think about, Moiraine Sedai. I don't have any issues, per se, I just wonder if I will be ready. Illian is sooner than I thought."

We spoke more, as I explained I did not know of this Covenant or Empire she spoke of. She told me of the years after the Breaking, of the grand nations that still remembered the Age of Legends formed a Covenant of Ten Nations, that they would keep the peace between them, and if ever one of them suffered the depredations of the Shadow, the armies of the others would go forth to defend them. It fell apart when the Trolloc Wars happened and armies of shadowspawn lead by Dreadlords, men and women who could channel the One Power, flooded the Westlands, but for eight hundred years peace held. The Empire of Artur Hawkwing sounded like the dream of a genius, to unite the Westlands once more, this time as a single Empire. To then flounder for decades against the walls of Tar Valon while sending his heir across the Aryth Ocean to their eventual death, that was madness. I knew which one I should emulate.

I was quiet for most of the rest of ride after I finished speaking with Moiraine, thinking. I would need to learn as much as possible, as quickly as possible, if in a few months I would be King of Illian. And that's on top of learning to channel, learning the sword to make good on the heron mark, practicing the flute, and mending Egwene and I's relationship. I had a lot sitting ahead of me. The future weighed heavy on my shoulders. But I would do it, because I had to. If yesterday proved anything, it's that luck will not win me every battle. I would accept the Aes Sedai's help, regardless of the leash she put on me, because I would need all the help I can get if I am supposed to lead the world into an Age of Light.

---

Before sunset the Warder chose a campsite, and Moiraine had Nynaeve and Egwene helping her up to set wards. The Aes Sedai whispered in the other women's ears before she began. Nynaeve hesitated, but when Moiraine closed her eyes, all three women did so together.

I saw Mat and Perrin staring, and wondered how they could even be surprised. Every woman is an Aes Sedai, I thought mirthlessly. The Light help me, so am I. I'm worse. Bleakness held my tongue.

"Why is it so different?" Perrin asked as Egwene and the Wisdom helped Moiraine to her bed. "It feels..." His thick shoulders shrugged as if he could not find the word.

"We struck a mighty blow at the Dark One," Moiraine replied, settling herself with a sigh. "The Shadow will be a long time recovering."

"How?" Mat demanded. "What did we do?"

"Sleep, we are not out of what the Blight used to be yet." She focused on me. "Rand, I wish to speak with you alone. We have important matters to speak of."

I gulped, a sudden nervousness flooding me. She means Dragon Reborn business. Is this when…? No. She has shown no sign of trying to stop me. I need to stop being paranoid. I walked over to her bed, on the far side of the camp, away from others besides Lan. Egwene stayed, caught in a staring match before Moiraine sighed. "I don't think you'll be happy about this, child, but you can stay. Let us wait till the others are abed."

We sat in silence on the edge of the firelight, waiting for snores and restful breathing to sound for nearly ten minutes, while I fiddled with the strange wooden rod I found in my right hand. It was a foot long dark wooden rod about two-thirds the width of my wrist, carved with six simple dragons with their front legs and claws splayed, the number 6 adorning the side closest to me.

Finally, Moiraine spoke. "I have seen one like it, in the White Tower. Every Aes Sedai has seen it, for it is a white foot-long rod the width of a woman's wrist with a number three carved on one end and intricate foreign writing on the other. It is called the Oath Rod, and every Aes Sedai must swear the Three Oaths on it, to bind them to our soul. I would bet my shawl that it is a ter'angreal gifted to you by this Iridescent Flame to…" Moiraine paused, choosing her words carefully, "bond with your fated women. A… Bonder, if you like. I believe I know of three of the women, and suspect a fourth."

I was confused. "How do you know that? Did you have some Foretelling you did not tell us about?"

"I'm one, of course." Egwene edged in, trying for the confidence and calm of an Aes Sedai though failed miserably.

Moiraine gave her a look of sadness. "I did not have a Foretelling, but someone else did. Min, the young woman in the Stag and Lion in Baerlon who wore men's clothing, she can see things about people's future in their auras. What she sees comes true, eventually, even if she does not know what it means." I froze, remembering what she said about Egwene. I did not know they always came true.

Min was wrong. She has to be wrong. They looked at me, Egwene strangely, and Moiraine with a semblance of pity. Realizing I must have spoken aloud, I explained my reasoning. "I'm not the same Rand anymore. I have part of someone else stitched into me, which must mean I've changed and what she saw does not apply anymore. It must!" I did not want to think about such a thing, being a different person, but if it gave me Egwene…

"Rand, what is Min supposed to be wrong about?" Egwene asked in a trembling voice.

"It does not matter." I replied.

"It does matter," replied Moiraine. "She predicted three lovers for you, Rand, and none Egwene. The prophecy says three lovers, two teachers, and one enemy, Rand. Min saw herself, a young woman with the red-gold hair of Andoran Royalty, and a woman that looked kin to you, Rand. An Aiel woman. She knew all three would be your loves." Moiraine offered her pity to Egwene. "None of them were you, child. I am sorry."

I was desperate. I could see Egwene distraught, but accepting what the Aes Sedai said, crumbling under her confidence and authority and the weight of everything she learned about me in the past two days, so I said the first thing that came to mind.

"The Aiel! She could very well teach me to be an Aiel, rather than my lover, since I am one, supposedly. Egwene is one of my lovers, she HAS to be. I made a promise, Moiraine Sedai, in that horrible place," I pleaded, tears puddling in my eyes. I wiped them clean with the back of my hand. The Pattern took my father from me, it would not take Egwene from me as well!

I could see sympathy in her eyes as her cool voice whispered. "You must be quieter, Rand. I know this is not what you wish, but even though ta'veren can bend the Pattern around them, they cannot escape every fate."

"Can we not try, Moiraine Sedai? Just once? I give my oath I will obey whatever you tell me afterwards, even if it is separating us and sequestering Egwene into the White Tower for years, or… or even that." I both dreaded and delighted in the idea of channeling, of wielding the forces of Creation against the Dark One. It seemed to light a fire inside me. Then the thought comes of slowly going mad, my body rotting around me as I risk my friends and family every day with my existence… It may be better to gentled. No, that is selfish. I have a duty, a future to uphold.

Moiraine's eyes were calculating in the waxing moonlight. "I will ask nothing too arduous on you, and I believe Egwene will become an Aes Sedai sooner than everyone will think. I do not believe too many years will separate you, if she does bond with you." She paused, seeming to weigh options in her head. "Very well, let us try. You are ta'veren, maybe you will escape what Min viewed, if anyone can. Hold out the Bonder and wait while I walk Egwene through an attempt to channel a thread of spirit, before she vows to be bound to the heart of the Dragon Reborn. That was all the Oath Rod needed, a thread of spirit and an oath."

I held out the Bonder and Egwene held the end with the dragon heads eagerly. She closed her eyes and sat there; I assumed trying to channel, but after a few moments, both of our bodies went rigid and our mouths snapped shut tight. I felt an ember of the Flame Imperishable that I had not realized dwelt within my heart detach itself from the whole and travel painfully down my right arm, burning something into my skin until it reached my hand and leapt into the Bonder and the pain dissipated.

As the flame traveled, it seared one of the dragon carvings and burnt into a strange animal akin to a dragon, though stouter and almost turtle-like, though lacking a shell, before entering Egwene's hand. Somehow, I knew the creature was female. She had bright green eyes, with no mane or antlers but fins of wood-like bone adorned her back amongst scales of dark brown like good earth, and the light tan of sand, and her tail that ended in a flanged wood-like bone mace that looked deadly. Large front claws on wide paws sat attached to strong, articulate forearms, and her back legs were thick and powerful, with shorter claws. Lichen and small plants covered her, mostly flowers in beautiful blooming rainbow patterns giving this strange dragon—something within me spoke Earth Dragon—a beautiful, almost painted feel.

"... Rand in my mind, just like this little bundle that tells me he's feeling fascinated right now, and oh he's focusing on us now. Hello Rand." Egwene gave me a sweet smile that turned into a frown. "You did not prepare me for how much that hurt, Rand. That fire, traveling through my arm and into my heart." She shivered. "And look, you even gave me a tattoo! Whatever am I to do? Wear gloves on my hands forever?"

On her right hand lay the flame of Tar Valon, its white teardrop contained inside a heraldic shield. I glanced at my arm and started. On it, etched into my skin as if part of it, wrapped round twice my right arm, marched the same gold-and-scarlet form as lay on the banner in the Eye of the World. The Dragon. Right behind its head lay a heraldic shield in an exact copy of Egwene's, except it had begun to fill in with color, just barely on the edges.

I frowned, frustrated that she would blame me. "I did not know it would do this either. And you have no right to complain about the pain. I had to feel it everywhere, for hours." I breathed deeply, calming. "Personally, I don't feel any different, maybe a little itchy, but this is still a good thing. It worked, Moiraine! I knew it would." I glared at her before turning to Egwene. "So you can feel me, like in your head?"

Egwene nodded, looking abashed in the fire's light. "Yes, if my eyes were closed, I could still tell where you are like you pull on me. And there's this little knot in the back of my head, where I can feel that you are healthy, and feeling no particular powerful emotion. I uh.. I felt your frustration. I'm sorry, Rand, I just did not expect the pain."

I nodded, moving on by accepting the apology. "It's okay. It's been a long couple of days for everyone." Then I got excited, showing off the Earth Dragon. "But look, see how the Bonder changed? Something in my mind tells me it is an Earth Dragon and I think you will be able to shapechange into one. Feels right, somehow."

Moiraine interrupted me. "While interesting, it matters more if you can shapechange, Rand. Do you feel anything new?"

I felt an itchiness beneath my skin, a kind of energy I had never felt before. It felt wild, powerful and free, so I pulled on it with my will and that energy leapt to my command like an eager dog. It rose from beneath my skin like a rushing river to cover me from head to toe, changing me in a moment that stretched like molten glass as my body changed around me, my skin squirming like worms.

I did not sit any taller, but I could hear and see much better. Almost instantly, I noticed Perrin was not asleep. His gold eyes were wide and shined in the half dark, and he flinched when he noticed me watching him back and rolled over. I could feel a weight on my head, from the antlers I supposed, and the long mane of curly red and gold hair that now stretched beyond my shoulder blades. My finger claws clicked on each other as I tried not to drum my now-dangerous fingers on my legs, before I realized I could retract them, leaving merely scaled reptilian fingers. I felt a burning sensation in my gut then, a horrid nausea overwhelming me until I simply had to vomit.

A sickly black oil spattered the grass near me, turning the plantlife sickly and trapping some sort of beetle, like sap on a tree, until the black oil seeped inside it. In moments it turned the bug into a chittering mass of half-formed legs and snapping mandibles on a putrid, pustulent body. I stared, unable to even comprehend what I saw before I felt a sudden chill in the air, and then a white-hot flame lit up the night atop the nightmarish bug, burning the oil into an acrid smoke that drifted due north on the breeze. I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth, feeling the sting of the black oil as it evaporated on the back of my head. Egwene's eyes were wide and staring and her face blanched.

"What… what… What was that!" She whispered fiercely, with some shakiness.

Panicking, I spoke in a rush. "I just had to vomit when I changed. I didn't mean to make… that."

Moiraine's own face was pale as well, staring at the spot when the oil had fallen with the eyes that showed genuine fear as I had never seen before. "I… I believe that was the Taint, child." She spoke slowly, carefully. "The Taint on Saidin, being expelled from Rand's so'shan."—Moiraine grimaced—"However, the only way to make the proof conclusive would be to have him channel."

I felt her fear then, when she told me what that horrible stuff was. That was all inside me… and it kills plants and changes animals into monsters. What was it doing to me? Light, if only I never had to channel. "We will NOT be doing that tonight. I think we all need some sleep, Moiraine Sedai, or time to think, after what we just saw."

"Just a few more things, Rand. You promised you would do everything I asked you tonight." Something tinged her voice I could not read, but made me worried. I nodded reluctantly. "To be perfectly honest, I believe I am to be one of the two teachers for you. The Bonder still lies within your hand, waiting, as proof, and if I am to teach you, it would be best to start as soon as possible. As an Aes Sedai Teacher to the Dragon Reborn, may I, Moiraine Damodred of the Blue Ajah, bond with you Rand?"

I did not know what to think. Egwene looked aghast. "You're the fourth woman!" She accused Moiraine with a harsh whisper. "This is some Aes Sedai trick, that's why you wanted him alone, to ensnare him further into your net." Moiraine gave her a frigid glare that gave me shivers just seeing it. Egwene withstood it for nearly seven seconds before she sat straight, apologizing to the Aes Sedai.

Moiraine nodded once Egwene's contriteness satisfied her and then looked at me, her tone softer and her eyes seeming to draw me in, giving me goosebumps. "You must understand something, Rand. I was in the room when your birth was Foretold. For nineteen years, since I became an Aes Sedai, I have been on a quest to find the Dragon Reborn. From the current Amyrlin Seat, the only other Aes Sedai who now knows of your birth, I have been told to guide and protect you, and to tie you as close to the White Tower as I can, and I will certainly try with some amount of effort."

She spoke more stridently. "But those first three instructions, to find, guide, and protect—" Moiraine's eyes lit with pride. "—are the ones that truly matter, as you will be the Dragon Reborn with or without the help of the White Tower or their leashes."

She adopted the cool, calm once again, but a coyness lingered in her eyes. My skin prickled in a cool night breeze. Light but she was beautiful. Dark eyes deep enough to drown in. "Why have Amyrlin Seat try to leash you once she knows you're found, when you could simply have my help and my heart bound as proof I will not betray you to any, even to the Mother of Aes Sedai. I believe this will benefit both of us, as I do not have to worry about you sending me away or ignoring me, and you will not have to worry about me betraying you for gentling or working against your interests. It is the best choice, a compromise."

I was… I did not know what to think. She had been looking for me for as long as I lived, found me and tried to guide and protect me from the Shadow, in her own twisting Aes Sedai way. Moiraine Sedai doesn't even want to gentle me, as heretical as that is. It is strange though; I am the focus for her entire Aes Sedai life, and now she's practically begging, as far as Aes Sedai are concerned, to bond me. One would find it romantic if it wasn't such an abrupt turn for her.

Some part of me couldn't help thinking it was some kind of ploy, but she seemed genuine, and I was not stupid enough to deny an Aes Sedai who dropped the façade to show her authentic emotions, or at least more authentic. I held out the Rod, decision made. If she wants to bond me, so be it, I would rather have an Aes Sedai on my side. Her smile reached her eyes and if she was not an Aes Sedai, I would have said she grabbed for the Bonder.

For Moiraine the flame traveled through another one of the dragon carvings, searing it into a strange animal that also seemed similar but different from my dragon, just like Egwene. She was opalescent somehow, white scales like mother-of-pearl with pure blue eyes, ram's horns of pure white, with tiny horns dusting her jaw. The patagia of her large batlike wings was a soft blue, and her claws a brilliant sapphire. She only had two legs as her wings acted as forelimbs with vestigial paws. Icy mist that glittered with little rainbows in the night drifted from her maw filled with brilliant blue fangs. Ice Wyvern is what that voice called her. She was a beautiful creature, delicate where the Earth Dragon was solid, icy where the Earth Dragon held life. Moiraine laughed, now a soft tinkle in the air, no hint of raspiness. Near Egwene's shield lay another, already tinging blue on the edges, with a flower hanging in the center.

I started as she stood up out of her bedroll and twirled, laughing once more. "Rand, I could kiss you if it wouldn't make your first wife so upset." I blushed, looking away. That was the truth! "You healed me! I don't have to lie bedridden. Thank you, I always hated being stuck in bed sick ever so much."

She quieted down when someone stirred behind us. Suddenly, the Aes Sedai calm slammed down on her face and tone. She was really quite beautiful, small and delicate, like the fine Tarien doll Egwene had gotten from someone on Sunday. I watched as Moiraine and Egwene, in a daze, as they spoke a little more, until Egwene grabbed my hand and dragged me off, having arranged our bedrolls together. As I held her in my arms, I dreamt of music that night, a song I would not remember played by half a dozen instruments, drums and bitterns with clean clear tones and strange instruments I had never heard before that warbled an awe-inspiring piece of music and I felt good.

---

Rand is listening to Your Hand In Mine by Explosion In The Sky.

 

[Adullahan]

Saven 1, 998 NE (May 11th)

The next morning Moiraine Sedai was up and about, while Egwene stayed close to me, eyeing the older woman with new wariness. Mat had asked Moiraine how she got so healthy but she ignored him, preparing her horse. Nynaeve seemed to approve of Egwene's wariness but wouldn't get close to me, so soon enough Egwene stood with her as they readied their own horses. Lan took Perrin and spoke with him about something on the far edge of camp. Probably about what he saw.

Meanwhile, Loial took the time to speak with me of his latest book, a travelogue of the River Arinelle until it becomes the Manetherendrelle, in the later years of Hawkwing's Empire. He found the description of civil courts quite interesting, telling me how in the interest of fairness every judge was a man foreign to the kingdom the civil court resided in and would change kingdoms every five years. While boring, I listened closely to Loial speak of it. It may be something I can use in the future if Moiraine's plan comes true—as much as I don't wish to think of Illian or being king—and I liked the idea of a fair court. Loial continued to wax poetic on the multicultural mixing that Hawkwing encouraged and his sense of common justice, as we rode.

In the Blight, something had changed that we all could see. The Blight faded as we rode south, of course, but the fading was much swifter, swathes of former Blight turned natural again. Twisted trees were replaced by straight, the stifling heat diminished quickly as rotting foliage gave way to the merely diseased, and then not diseased. The forest around us became red with new growth, thick on the branches. Buds sprouted on the undergrowth, creepers covered the rocks with green, and new wildflowers dotted the grass as thick and bright as where the Green Man walked. It was as if spring, so long held back by winter, now raced to catch up to where it should be.

I was not the only one who stared. "A mighty blow," Moiraine murmured, looking at me with a smile. "A mighty blow indeed." I felt a kernel of pride. I may have messed up, but I did good too. She is not wrong about that.

In the late morning, we rode side by side, and she spoke to me of a new plan. She quietly told me of the cultural history of chinnar'veren to the Borderlanders and how that effect revealing myself to Lord Agelmar. At some point in the War of Power, no surviving text that Moiraine has read states when, shapechangers appeared as the Creator's blessing to humanity, a way a human could fight the tide of strange and dangerous shadowspawn that lurked at the end of the Age of Legends.

After the Breaking, in the two closest nations to the Blight before the Trolloc Wars destroyed them, Aramelle and Jaramide raised chinnar'veren as nobility, using them for the Shadow Marches to the north and parading them as defenders of humanity, even as their numbers slowly dwindled. As spiritual successors of those lost nations, the Borderlands would leap to grant me titles and privileges if they knew I existed.

She told me how it would tie Lord Agelmar to me, and if I revealed myself to Fal Dara as a shapechanger, it would tie Shienar and eventually the Borderlands closer to me as the word spread. She deemed this vital so that when I was announced as the Dragon Reborn those nations would fall in line with me for a number of reasons; because of their shared history, knowledge of me from tales and deeds, the backing of Lord Agelmar, let alone the fact that the Borderlands put fighting the Shadow above everything.

It seemed to make sense to me, so when she finished, I nodded and told her as much as I was not sure what else to say. What can you say, when a woman, your wife, tells you she plans to win you four kingdoms by the simple fact of your existence? I was in a sort of daze. Then we spoke a bit more, and I mentioned being interested in how those civil courts worked. She seemed pleased, giving me a brief smile that reached her eyes, and told me we would begin to study Hawkwing before moving on to ride beside Lan.

I thought to myself as I rode alone. Light burn me, Illian and now the Borderlands? If both declare for me I'll have to conquer the rest of the Westlands to simply connect my supposed kingdom. I paused, realizing her Aes Sedai ploy. She plans to make me the new Artur Hawkwing! That is what I chose when I let her bond with me, not the Aes Sedai Advisor to the Dragon Reborn, but the Aes Sedai Kingmaker in my bedroom. Light, my new wife has been planning to make me king since before she knew me… She must love what has happened to me. Maybe the real gift was for her.

I may have been brooding by the time we saw the climbing wildrose entwined the stone column marking the Border. Men came out of the watchtowers to greet us. There was a stunned quality to their laughter, and their eyes shone with amazement, as if they could not believe the new grass and wildflowers under their steel-clad feet. I was glad for the distraction from my future.

"The Light has conquered the Shadow!"

"A great victory in Tarwin's Gap! We have had the message! Victory!"

"The Light blesses us again!"

"King Easar is strong in the Light," Lan replied to all their shouts. Their laughter followed as we rode on.

Egwene rode beside me after we crossed the border, alternating between telling hilarious and embarrassing stories of our childhood together that brought me from my circling thoughts, and riding in thoughtful silence with me as we watched the overflowing nature pass us by, depending on her mood. It fit well with my mood, too, soothing me from the gnawing anxious thoughts of the future and Aes Sedai.

In the late afternoon we reached Fal Dara, to find the grim-walled city ringing with celebration. Ringing in truth. I doubted if there could be a bell in the city not clanging, from the tiniest silver harness chime to great bronze gongs in their tower tops. The gates stood wide open, and men ran laughing and singing in the streets, flowers stuck in their topknots and the crevices of their armor. The common people of the town had not yet returned from Fal Moran, but the soldiers were newly come from Tarwin's Gap, and their joy was enough to fill the streets.

"Victory in the Gap! We won!"

"A miracle in the Gap! The Age of Legends has come back!"

"Spring!" a grizzled old soldier laughed as he hung a garland of morningstars around my neck. His own topknot was a white cluster of them. I laughed with him, thinking I did this! "The Light blesses us with spring once more!"

Learning we wanted to go to the keep, a circle of men clad in steel and flowers surrounded us, running to clear a way through the celebration. In the moment, I found it striking. Our 'Flower Guard' running through the raucous streets of Fal Dara, clearing out drunken soldiers with gentle but speedy movement, never a harsh word or a thrown fist. Just merriment and politeness and casual joy as these kind soldiers kept us steadily moving through the city, despite the roil. Flower Guards, I considered.

Ingtar's was the first face I saw that was not smiling. "I was too late," Ingtar told Lan with a sour grimness. "Too late by an hour to see. Peace!" His teeth ground audibly, but then his expression became contrite. "Forgive me. Grief makes me forget my duties. Welcome, Builder. Welcome to you all. It is good to see you safely out of the Blight. I will bring servants to guide you to your chambers and inform Lord Agelmar—"

"Take me to Lord Agelmar," Moiraine commanded. "Take us all." Ingtar opened his mouth to protest and bowed under the force of her eyes.

Agelmar was in his study, with his swords and armor back on their racks, and his was the second face that did not smile, though he wore one when he saw us hale, hearty and whole. Loial carried the gold chest. The pieces of the seal were still in Moiraine's pouch; Lews Therin Kinslayer's banner was wrapped in her blanketroll and still tied behind Aldieb's saddle. The groom who had led the white mare away had received the strictest orders to see the blanketroll was placed untouched in the chambers assigned to the Aes Sedai.

"Light bless you, as it blessed us in Tarwin's Gap," said Lord Agelmar gruffly. "I take it you were successful, Moiraine Sedai?"

"I would speak with you, Lord Agelmar."

Agelmar nodded, and Ingtar waved the servants from the room. The Lord of Fal Dara eyed those who remained expectantly; especially, I thought, Loial and the golden chest.

"We hear," Moiraine said as soon as the door shut behind Ingtar, "that you won a great victory in Tarwin's Gap."

"Yes," Agelmar said slowly, his troubled frown returning. "Yes, Aes Sedai, and no. The Halfmen and their Trollocs were destroyed to the last, but we barely fought. A miracle, my men call it. The earth swallowed them; the mountains buried them. Only a few Draghkar were left, too frightened to do else but fly north as fast as they could."

"A miracle indeed," Moiraine said, smiling. "And spring has come again."

"A miracle," Agelmar said, shaking his head, "but.... Moiraine Sedai, men say many things about what happened in the Gap. That the Light took on flesh and fought for us. That the Creator walked in the Gap to strike at the Shadow. But I saw a man, Moiraine Sedai. I saw a man, and what he did, cannot be, must not be." He saw me, I thought, my stomach curling with anxiety. Egwene slipped her hand into mine.

"The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, Lord of Fal Dara."

"As you say, Moiraine Sedai." Lord Agelmar grimaced.

"And Padan Fain? He is secure? I must speak with him as soon as possible."

"He is held as you commanded, Aes Sedai, whining at his guards half the time and trying to command them the rest, but.... Peace, Moiraine Sedai, what of you, in the Blight? You found the Green Man? I see his hand in the new things growing. There are even reports of the Blight retreating."

"We found him," she said flatly. "The Green Man is dead, Lord Agelmar, and the Eye of the World is gone. There will be no more quests by young men seeking glory."

The Lord of Fal Dara frowned, shaking his head in confusion. "Dead? The Green Man? He cannot be.... Then you were defeated? But the flowers, and the growing things? The Blight?"

"We won, Lord Agelmar. We won, and the land freed from winter, and from the Blight is the proof, but I fear the Last Battle has not yet been fought. The Blight still stands, and the forges of Thakan'dar still work below Shayol Ghul. There are many Halfmen yet, and countless Trollocs. Never think the need for watchfulness in the Borderlands is gone."

"I did not think it so, Aes Sedai," he said stiffly.

Moiraine motioned for Loial to set the gold chest at her feet, and when he did, she opened it, revealing the horn. "The Horn of Valere," she said, and Agelmar gasped. I almost thought the man would kneel, such was the adulation in his eyes.

"With that, Moiraine Sedai, it matters not how many Halfmen or Trollocs remain. With the heroes of old come back from the tomb, we will march to the Blasted Lands and level Shayol Ghul."

"NO!" Agelmar's mouth fell open in surprise, but Moiraine continued calmly. "I did not show it to you to taunt you, but so that you will know that in whatever battles yet come, our might will be as great as that of the Shadow. Its place is not here. The Horn must be carried to Illian. It is there, if fresh battles threaten, that it must rally the forces of the Light. I will ask an escort of your best men to see that it reaches Illian safely. There are Darkfriends still, as well as Halfmen and Trollocs, and those who come to the Horn will follow whoever finds it. It must reach Illian."

"It shall be as you say, Aes Sedai." But when the lid of the chest closed, the Lord of Fal Dara looked like a man being denied his last glimpse of the Light.

Then Moiraine moved to stand by my left side, opposite of Egwene who held tightly to my hand. "And there is another thing, something I wish to tell you, so you may prepare for it. Rand, if you would."

I pulled on that feeling of energy beneath my skin and changed. I stood in so'shan and the room filled with noise, Perrin stared peculiarly, Mat asked questions of me, Lan grunted in surprise despite knowing what happened, and Lord Agelmar let out a "Burn me" as his eyes poured over me. It felt embarrassing. Everyone was looking at me, but I stood still and fed the Flame, tossing those feelings and thoughts into the fire. I stared right back at him.

"You're chinnar'veren … but how? Excuse me, that was rude. I meant to ask, when did you obtain the so'shan, young Lord."

I stared solemn at him. "When I fought and killed the Forsaken Aginor outside the Eye of the World."

Lord Agelmar instinctually started the Shayol Ghul catechism, but Moiraine interrupted, glaring at me. "I did not wish to speak of such things, but yes, Rand al'Thor did kill Aginor, while the Green Man died to kill Balthamel. Two Forsaken are dead, now, the two closest to the edge of the prison."

Lord Agelmar looked sundered, like the foundations of his world were gone, and he stared at me as if I were his only hope. It made me uncomfortable. "It is true then. When the chinnar'veren return, Tarmon Gai'don looms. Light preserve me, two Forsaken, but Light bless you Lord Rand, and the Green Man, for killing those monsters in human skin. Who knows what they would have done to the people of Shienar."

I spoke slowly but calmly. "Lord? I am no lord, I am just a shepherd a long way from home, Lord Agelmar."

"You wear the so'shan. You are a Lord in the Borderlands from this day forth until your death, Lord Rand, peace favor your blade. But, if I may ask, what animal are you? I recognize reptilian features, but your horns, and your long hair, I know of no horned hairy lizard on this side of the Aiel Waste."

I lied. "I believe I am a drake, a serpent-lion of Shara that can breathe fire. That was how I killed Aginor."

"I've not heard of such creatures, but that hair of yours is certainly a mane!" Lord Agelmar laughed. "You breathed fire, hot enough to kill one of the thirteen remaining Aes Sedai from before the Breaking. Light what I would give to see you in your so'gaighael, tearing through Fists of Trollocs, breaking raids and invasions on your knee." He sighed. "It is too bad you will not gain your so'unbunto for years yet. Otherwise, with the Horn by your side, we could fight deep into the Blight, razing the twisted camps and villages of the Shadow till we marched on Shayol Ghul itself."

Perrin raised a hand, and caught Lord Agelmar's attention, asking what those Old Tongue words meant, which cued up a flowery telling of the history of shapechangers, and what each form was. Perhaps childishly, I ignored listening to an explanation I'd already heard, instead summoning the strange ter'angreal that Moiraine called my Bonder into my left hand. I had learned through experiments on the ride through Fal Dara that literally no else but Lan and my bond-mates could even tell it existed, just as weird as the tattoos that everyone seemed to accept as completely normal but Lan. I liked to look at the two beasts that lined the length, wondering whether Egwene would have Green Man-like abilities, and if Moiraine would let me fly on her back, and other such idle thoughts, not thinking of Illian, or the Borderlands or lordship. The depictions seemed to move in the light and had me enthralled as I watched plants grow and die on the earth dragon, as wings flapped, and a glittering fog erupted from the wyvern, until Egwene squeezed my hand hard.

Flinching, I glanced around to see Lord Agelmar and Perrin staring at me. I grinned sheepishly, "Sorry, Lord Agelmar. I've heard this explanation multiple times and I just kind of drifted off."

Instead of being upset, he laughed again and smiled a kind smile for such a hard face. "Ah, to be young. It is all right Lord Rand, I had simply finished telling your friends of your new-found heritage, and Perrin here asked you what this drake looked like."

I did not even hesitate, to my almost instant regret. "A snake-lion, with four feet, mine would be red and gold." There was a sudden chill, goosepimples running down my arm, as I was pinched hard on my back. I then realized I had just described the banner to Perrin. Perrin, who knew what it looked like. Perrin who was watching us last night. Perrin, who now probably thought, correctly, I was the Dragon Reborn. When I caught Loial's gaze of realization and worry, I groaned. Both of them know, now. "Sorry Moiraine Sedai," I whispered. I got pinched again, this time my right ear, and I flinched, warmth returning.

I smiled grimly. "Obviously it has antlers, and a mane of red-gold hair, and golden claws." Too late to close the barn door, when the horse is already out. Perrin looked at me with a cautious look that was his 'considering the danger' look he got sometimes when a prank has gone too far. He is obviously considering the danger involved remaining with me. Not that I truly blame him.

"I see," was all he grunted. Mat looked at Perrin funny, wondering what he missed. Thank the Light Mat did not seem to realize.

Moiraine spoke up then, wanting to move us along. "Lord Agelmar, if we could be seen to our rooms, there is much to be done."

---

"This way, Lord Rand," the manservant assigned to me said, as we moved through a hall. I flinched as Mat sneered at me as we left the others behind, anger welling in his eyes. He had complained loudly on the walk to Perrin about my sudden status as a lord, my sudden love of Aes Sedai, my keeping secrets from the both of them, never looking at me. I wasn't sure what to say, so I said nothing. Soon enough, Perrin will tell him I am the Dragon Reborn. I felt certain I would see a lot of angry eyes in the future and that weighed on me, as the manservant in black and gold livery took me to a different wing. I could try to deny the Lordship, but that would insult Lord Agelmar, and offend Moiraine after I agreed to her plan. But Mat did not know that, and I think even if he did he'd still hate it.

"For visiting Southerners, our finest milord," said the manservant, Mikeyo, while he unlocked the door. It looked ridiculous. It was a massive bedroom with a painting of far too undressed women hanging above the bed, and a wolf savaging cattle sat beside the hearth, garish. I had never seen so much gilding and silver wrought pieces in any place. The room Lord Agelmar met them in was much simpler. The bed was gigantic, with curtains that could be drawn around it to shadow the occupant. Four pillows sat abreast, and I could not help imagining it filled with three women and myself, something that was bound to happen. I blushed. It was too much.

I turned to Mikeyo. "Is there a room with less… decoration?"

The man laughed politely. "Not to your taste then, Lord Rand? Let us try another room." He muttered then, "I told them you would like a less… decorated room, let's say, but did they listen? No."

He led me down the hall, then down a flight of stairs, and to a room of a size with the previous one's bedroom, but with a somewhat smaller, but still large bed, some decorations in gold but mostly silver and hunting tapestries. I reluctantly accepted it, and soon servants arrived with my things and put away my simple clothes with some disgust. They're just clothes… "We will have to get new clothes measured for you, Lord Rand, and for your attendants," Mikeyo said confidently, with a sense of assurance.

I stopped that line of thought. "They are not my attendants, they are my friends, my companions if you must. You can certainly ask if they want to get new clothes, but do not force them." I told Mikeyo firmly. I dare not think what Mat will say about this, anyway.

An hour later Mikeyo brought dinner to my room, beef and vegetables fried with a tangy sour sauce and a grain called rice, tiny little pellets that absorbed the sauce and were quite enjoyable to eat. As so as I finished and Mikeyo was taking away my plate and utensils, a soft knock sounded on the door.

I got up from my table to open the door, finding Moiraine Sedai standing in front of it, in a dark blue dress I had never seen with a neckline dipped far enough to reveal a hint of cleavage, lacking her usual cloak. A gold belt dangling around her slender waist, silver bracelets with mother-of-pearl insets on each wrist. Her kesiera, a sapphire on the well-wrought gold chain intertwined with a braid that crowned her head, a hairstyle I had never seen on her before tonight. She looked beautiful and like a noble lady out of a tale, instead of the worn Aes Sedai I had seen just yesterday. I may have stared at her for a moment too long, as she coughed with an eyebrow raised.

I started, "Please come in, Moiraine Sedai."

"I see you have eaten well. Good. You will need it. We will be working together every night after dinner. I have much to teach you." She entered the room walking past me to sit on the bed. "I see you have made contact with your personal manservant. I chose him for his quiet mouth." She said, ignoring Mikeyo's existence as he bustled around and instead looked at me.

That made me a bit angry. "He has a name, Moiraine Sedai."

She paused to nod, smiling briefly. "He does. It is Mikeyo. And I would appreciate it if you would stay away for two hours while I speak with the young Lord about certain things. This may become a regular thing, depending." Her voice got coy, and I flushed, abruptly worried.

Mikeyo seemed amused, however, and simply nodded as he opened the door to leave. "As you say, Mistress Aes Sedai, I will obey." And I was left alone. Abruptly, the atmosphere changed. Any coyness from the Aes Sedai wiped away clean, leaving amusement and a certain distance in her eyes.

"That should set the fox amongst the hens. You'll be named an exiled Lord with an Aes Sedai lover in the taverns of Fal Dara by the end of the week at the latest. A wild, unbelievable tale that will be proven true by the number of those who will watch us, as we play at secret assignations. Excellent cover for what I will be truly doing with you these evenings, and on our trips."

"So. That was some kind of deception?" She nodded. "And me and you…. being close, that's the rumor you want to spread?" She nodded again, looking calm. "Why?" I asked, a bit frustrated.

"The tales of the love lives of nobles spread through the servants' daily gossip like wildfire." As if that explained everything. And maybe it did. Why would she want rumors of us to spread like that? Well, to distract people from questioning why she spent so much time with me. And why else? I thought. My skin chilled as I stared at Moiraine who stared placidly back before patting the bed.

"Join me. You have much to learn, and little enough time to learn it."

I joined her, still considering. What sets her apart is her desire to not gentle me. Could this seriously be an attempt to disguise what we do from other Aes Sedai? I settled on the bed, taking a pillow to squeeze. "Your sisters, you don't want them questioning what your relationship is with me, so you're pretending to have a secret romantic one with me."

"Excellent answer, Rand. That is indeed a good reason, yes, amongst many others." She moved on from the topic. "I will begin first with teaching you of the One Power. What do you know?"

That it had a male half and a female half was all I could muster but Moiraine simply nodded. "As much as I expect, from the son of a tabac farmer. The One Power has a True Source, where saidin, the male half of the One Power, and saidar, the female half, push against each other endlessly turning the Wheel of Time. They are limitless sources of power. No one can empty them any more than you could empty the Aryth Ocean."

"What is saidar like?" I asked, curious. I did not remember channeling, really. Just a sense of light and heat.

Joy tinged Moiraine's voice as she described it. "Like a vast, powerful river that flows ever onward, that you must embrace the currents or drown like a leaf in a whirlpool trying to impose your will. You guide saidar, allow the power to flow down the paths you seek. It fills you with life. Everything feels stronger, feels more real than real. It is a heady experience." Then her tone turned stern. "Saidin is completely different to handle. The White Tower has been gentling men for thousands of years, and has the most complete collection of pre-Breaking books than the rest of Westlands combined. Because of that, I am very sure what is involved with seizing saidin. I have studied every time I find myself in the Tower, under the newest Amylin. The ko'di, the Oneness you already practice as the Flame and the Void, is vital for maintaining control when you wield saidin, according to scraps of certain forbidden texts and interviews with gentled men. You will need to seize it, force your will on the One Power. That is what we will be practicing on this bed until I am certain you can seize saidin, without making a fool of yourself, or hurting others."

That makes sense, I'm basically a walking danger right now while I cannot control the One Power. "What about… the Taint?" Something I hated to think of, let alone speak. I will simply be glad I can be rid of it.

"We will have a picnic soon enough, and I can prepare a number of vessels to see if any are capable of holding it so that I may burn it. Otherwise we will take frequent picnics, say every three days, and continue training there. Lan and Egwene can join us at times to keep the tongues wagging."

That sounded reasonable. Except for the part where she implied Lan and Egwene would be like us, pretending together. Something inside simply said, No. "Not together." I said, forcefully. "Egwene and I are bonded. I will not have others think she is with another, even for a ruse. She can join us for lessons and picnics. We can train with Lan separately."

Moiraine accepted that with an ease that spoke of me fulfilling some kind of plan she had for me. I paid it no mind. "So I simply have to do this kody and I should find saidin?"

"Ko'di, Rand. And yes. Saidin has been described often as light or heat by other men. Search for that in your void. Let me know when you find it." She said, before closing her eyes, a chill washing over me.

I sat there, eyes closed as well, trying to achieve Oneness. I burnt the weight the future held for me; I burnt my annoyance at Moiraine, I burnt the terror of my first waking moments, that still haunts me days later. I burnt the frustration with Mat over things I cannot change, and I burnt my self-recrimination for the foolish mistake of letting Perrin realize what I am. When I achieved the Oneness, this ko'di, I beheld a beautiful light that sang to me a siren's call of power and might, from just beyond my eyesight. "I feel it," I said giddily.

"Nearly fifteen seconds is much better than new Novices, but not quick enough. Again."

The Oneness shattered. "Seriously?" I felt a chill, and a pinch, right on my butt. I leapt up, turning around. No one was there. "Did you just channel to pinch me, Moiraine?"

Her face was stern. "Right now, I am your Teacher, and as far as you are concerned, a little pinching is the least I can do without harming you with the One Power. I was subjected to a very thorough education by Eladia Sedai, who is now a Red. Trust me, she knew when and how to push to get the best out of a student. Now continue, before you get worse."

Now slightly scared, I nodded and attempted to achieve ko'di. It took me twenty seconds. Over and over again, I became One with myself and my surroundings, and felt the siren call but was denied by Moiraine every time. She began to read to me passages from a book, The Rise and Fall of Hawkwing's Empire, expecting me to memorize and recite them back to her. By the time our two hours was up, I was sweating and my head hurt from concentration.

Moiraine was stern after we finished, "Seven seconds is a lifetime in a desperate moment. Tomorrow we'll continue with the same training. I do not want you achieving ko'di unless around me while we are training it. The chance of you deciding to try saidin and burning out your ability to channel is too great, and I cannot have you risk yourself. The world cannot have it." Suddenly, Moiraine smiled. "You did very well. You achieved an average Novice's months of practice in merely two hours." She hummed, tilting her head and looking me over with arms crossed. Her earring jangled, well-wrought hoops of silver with a small emerald at the bottom of the loop. "You will be accompanying me to my room. I have some things to give you."

I hurried to follow her, secretly worried she'd soon force me to sleep over in some attempt to cause more rumors. Would that be so bad? came the errant thought. The entrance outside the Women's Quarters had several angled writing desks and sitting couches. Two women worked on paperwork with bright lanterns shuttered on their desks, the hall's lamps turned dim. One looked up, a taller woman and mature with a handsome but bitter face. She frowned when she saw me.

"I merely need to gift Lord Rand some clothes I had made for him, he will be in and out." Moiraine announced as she walked past the women, not stopping a stride. I followed close behind the tiny woman, though she seemed to stand tall as we moved through the dim halls to her apartment. When we reached her door I felt a chill, and asked her what she was doing. She whispered, "You've noticed me channeling already? that is good, Rand, quite good. Usually takes women months if not years to feel it, especially beyond a couple feet. I am checking my ward, to see if anyone tried to enter the room after I left for yours."

That sounded useful, I'd like something like that. We entered her apartment, which had a comfortable sitting room. The fancy Lord's room did not even have a sitting room, simply a large bedroom with room for half a dozen chairs and a table if not more. I felt a jolt of envy, and Moiraine looked at me. I blushed and explained.

She nodded. "You are still a southerner. The best rooms are for Borderlanders, and for women and Aes Sedai of course. That envy you felt though. Is that normal for you?"

I shook my head vehemently. "No. Neither was my anger…. do you think…?" Are dragons envious angry creatures? I do hope not.

"Instincts from your animal? It is possible. Or it is simply you adjusting to your… circumstances. Emotional outbursts are common when one begins to channel, usually within the first couple weeks. It would be a bit late, but men are different from women. Some men do not even begin channeling until thirty."

I groaned. "And I don't remember if I even had those outbursts, so it could be either."

"Then simply try to be mindful of your emotions. You did quite well when you returned to us, in the Green Man's garden. I saw you using breathing to calm yourself. Now, the reason why I called you over was that before we left for the Blight I had the Mistress of Tailors quickly plan a new wardrobe for you. I was going to use herons as the main item of embroidery given your sword, but with the banner, I have an accurate image of a dragon and will be updating the tailors tomorrow. The rest of your clothes are still being made, but I have a couple of shirts, tunics and jackets for you, and two pairs of trousers. One made for exercising, and one for wearing regularly. I would like you to try them on, so I can make sure they fit the look I wish for you to present."

"Which is?" I asked when she didn't expound, slightly annoyed.

She stared at me, then smiled. "Yes, I suppose I could tell you. You need to look like a southern Lord who's taken some Borderlander traditions, the collar and the sleeve length, with a strong focus on red and gold. You will be recognized as Andoran by that color scheme and your accent. You need to look striking and memorable. Lan will teach you how to walk, I want you to do that walk when moving through the fortress." She continued on in that vein for another minute, telling me what the fashion meant, and how she wanted me to present myself, before asking me to try them on.

I nodded in relief and took the clothing, moving to the other room. A simple linen shirt for exercising, two tunics, one in a burgundy red and the other in faded gold, and one jacket, a surprisingly prescient scarlet and gold, survived the fashion show. Both trousers did not fit exactly right, but Moiraine made me take the linen one, for tomorrow. "I will get the rest fixed up for you. It should not be more than a day. Tomorrow, Lan will wake you up to begin your training."

 

[Adullahan]

Saven 2, 998 NE (May 12th)

The first morning had barely dawned when Lan pulled the curtains away from my bed, revealing the light from the lantern he held. I felt well-rested, having another night of musical dreaming I could not quite remember in full, but I did remember the feeling of singing along loudly amongst others and a couple lyrics. Oh its tough when loves a weed, that grows inside of me. I muttered lyrics,—"Waste the days, waste the nights"—trying to remember them all—"Try to downplay being uptight"—as I put on my linen clothing, finding them a bit light and breezy for the cold of a Shienaran spring morning. "A kiss is all we need."

Shivering as I followed Lan through nearly empty halls, an occasional yawning servant hurrying quietly towards their destination, singing under my breath. We found ours soon enough, an arcade leading to an open training yard with cold dead torches in the corners, a weapons stand and two Trolloc-sized training dummies. The sun had yet to peek over the fortress walls, so it was still quite dark. Lan was quick to light the torches before turning to me and finally speaking.

"We both know why you're here. You need to get better. I can help you get better. I cannot help you if I do not know your limits. So run. And keep running until you cannot take another step. This afternoon we will see how lax you've gotten with the blade."

It was the most Lan had ever said, and it wasn't even said that gruffly. I nodded, smiling at the fact that Lan still seemed to be perfectly fine with me, despite me being the Dragon Reborn. I ran for hours, sweating in the chilly morning, sweating as the sun rose. For nearly three hours I put foot in front of foot, running until I could not run anymore. When I collapsed onto the sand, I heard cheers, male and female both. I lay there, breathing heavily, rolling over to see Egwene standing with a reluctant Perrin and several Shienaran soldiers who were laughing and cheering for the "Southern Lord who never stops running". Perrin looked sheepishly at me. I looked away.

Lan's feet crunched on sand until they came close to my head, and I glanced at him. The sun blinded me but for a second I thought I saw the white of his teeth in a smile. "Not bad, sheepherder, not bad at all. Take a bucket from the well, and wash yourself off. After lunch, meet me back here. We'll work sword forms." And then he was off, swiftly moving through the crowd. Egwene came close, Perrin trailing behind.

She smiled at me, bright white teeth and a certain type of glee in her eyes. "I met Perrin at breakfast and I just had to speak with him about certain facts and whether to tell them to others. Perrin decided he has something to say to you."

I sat up finally, before slowly bringing myself to stand. Perrin stood in new clothes as well, that fit a little tightly on his shoulders, a green and white tunic with nut-brown trousers that set off his tanned skin and curly brown hair. He looked at me seriously. "I won't tell anyone what I figured out, Rand. I promise. I don't know how to feel yet, but I know a lot of what you're doing is what the Aes Sedai is telling you. That you, Rand al'Thor, the stubborn mule who digs in his heels, is willing to go along with her, that means it's true, isn't it?"

"I'd rather live than die a stubborn mule. Yes, it's true. I learned that day at the Eye of the World." I paused, my stomach rumbling. "Do you think we could find something to eat? I have yet to have breakfast and I'd love to beg for an apple jam tart from the kitchens. And let's stick to safe topics until we can meet in my room."

I washed myself off, sunning myself for a few minutes and feeling the sun's warmth on my skin, as Egwene encouraged Perrin to tell stories about our young teenage antics. It felt faintly nostalgic, and I could almost remember the moments that Perrin told me of, but the feeling always faded when I tried to focus it, turning the moment sour. Before we left the kitchens, after grabbing ourselves each a tart, a kitchen maid smiling coyly and asked me a question about Moiraine.

"Have you seen her today, the Aes Sedai?"

I answered casually, with little thought, exhausted still. "No, I saw Moiraine Sedai last night. I woke up early today for training."

My answer apparently scandalized the workers' eavesdropping, and I heard one worker push another saying, "I knew Mikeyo wasn't lying." I would feel bad about it, but Moiraine wanted this. Such a strange woman, wanting to be seen like that with me specifically because I'm the Dragon Reborn. Women are strange. Perrin looked at me oddly as we left, though.

"What was that all about?" came Egwene's 'I am five seconds away from boxing your ears' voice.

"Oh, uh." I glanced at Egwene and swallowed the lump in my throat. "Moiraine wants us to be seen as romantic partners. It's her idea, not mine and she did not give me much choice."

Perrin made a choking sound, and looked startled. Egwene's hand squeezed mine quite tightly. "I knew she had some plot for you!"

I sighed, exasperated. "I know. It's rather absurd, and apparently is a whole, 'Aes Sedai doing something for half-a-dozen reasons' thing. She did not give me a chance to refute it, basically straight up telling the servant assigned to me to go away while we were… busy. Her reasons were pretty good though, for doing it. I just wish she had asked first." I explained.

"That conniving tricky witch…. No no, I should not call her that." Egwene sighed. "I did not think I would have to fight for your attention so quickly with her. But I guess it makes sense she'd want you wrapped around her little finger. What reasons did she give?"

I told them about the previous evening while we were on our way to the Women's Quarters, Egwene leading us, when we ran into the witch herself.

"Oh good, you're all here. There is something we must discuss. My rooms, please." She turned on her foot with the grace of a dancer, heading straight back for the Women's Quarters.

"She knew I was coming," I whispered to Perrin, who mouthed a 'How?' "Bond. You know, the thing you overheard and saw the other night. It connects us."

He looked away with red cheeks under his shaggy hair, and we moved quietly through the halls in the late morning, Moiraine taking the time to greet the noblewoman in charge of the door by name. Once we were in her room, I felt the chill of saidar and assumed she was putting up the ward against eavesdropping.

"So, what exactly have you been discussing to make Rand's emotions twist and turn?"

Perrin looked at me for some kind of confirmation or support. "Perrin knows who I am, and he promised not to tell anyone else that I'm the Dragon Reborn. And I was tired and gave an answer to a question from a maid I shouldn't have. So now they both have questions about our fake romance."

Moiraine stared at me, a blank look on her face. Egwene opened her mouth to speak. Moiraine interrupted, still looking at me. "And you did not give the answer you found?"

"We were found by you before I could finish."

"Mmm. Well, sit, all of you. Let us have this discussion then move on with our busy day." She chose a large plush blue chair, settling primly upon it, the soft clink of jewelry loud in our silence. I took the simple wood chair next to Egwene in a chair with fancy upholstery and fluffy pillows. Perrin sat on another other simple chair, viewing the dainty upholstered chairs with some reticence.

"First things first: if you ever speak of Rand being the Dragon Reborn to anyone before he announces himself, including Matrim Cauthon, not even your friendship will save you from my wrath. Lan does not follow the Three Oaths." She says it so casually, like she's speaking of chopping firewood or watering plants. A chill went down my spine. This is who I bonded…

Perrin gulps, before nodding profusely. "Yes, Moiraine Sedai. I won't speak it or even think about it, I swear on the Light."

Moiraine gave him the barest hint of acknowledgement before moving on, turning to Egwene. "There are multiple reasons why I am trying to portray an not-very-secret relationship with Rand. One reason is that it will add to the legend of him, the best thing that spreads like a plague is romance gossip. Rand al'Thor, shepherd turned Dragon Reborn is much less interesting than Rand al'Thor, seducer of Aes Sedai, mysterious Southern Lord, and Shapeshifter turned Dragon Reborn. Another reason is it distracts anyone who's spying on us from what I am actually teaching him, protecting us." She then looked expectantly at me.

I assumed she meant the reason I figured out. "And because she is just about the only Aes Sedai who wouldn't gentle me on sight, she's worried about her sisters trying to find out what makes me interesting, or figuring out what I am, so instead she's making me into a fling with a young man. Something scandalous but not treasonous."

We sat there in silence, Perrin looking distinctly ill. I guess being romantically involved with an Aes Sedai doesn't sit well with him. Egwene, however, looked quite angry.

"That's all. That's the whole of your explanations? This is your vaunted 'Aes Sedai cunning'?" She bit out.

"A second woman would only add to Rand's legend, and destiny has seen fit to make him a lothario, child. I would be willing to concede some evenings for you." Egwene was wary, like she expected some sort of trick. "I had intended to speak with you about this topic tonight or tomorrow, but how about we let the men go? Lunch will be soon enough and Rand will be busy right after. We can have our lunch brought up to us and discuss the situation like women."

She dismissed Perrin and me summarily. We quickly left, making our way out of the Women's Quarters. My sword was returned to me, Perrin his axe and I had an idea.

"Lan's teaching me swordplay after lunch. Want to join? I bet he's willing to teach you or find a Shienaran soldier who can, easy. I've seen plenty of axes." I did not wish to think of what the women may be discussing. Especially concerning me.

We walked in silence as Perrin thought for a minute. "Maybe later. You're really okay with her making people think you are some kind of… male looseskirt?"

I gave a sharp laugh. "It's so untrue it is not even funny, but what choice do I have? She already started me down the path."

"Could run," muttered Perrin.

I stared at him incredulous. "For-sak-en," I sounded out to him like he was a particularly dimwitted child.

"You killed one," he said indignantly. "You're… who you are, you're supposed to kill them. Couldn't you kill more?"

I ignored that, shivering at the thought of fighting another Forsaken. What do I risk losing this time? I don't even know how I killed Aginor, if the me I am now could still do the same thing. We walked in a colder silence.

An upper and lower set of tables divided the dining hall of the Fortress of Fal Dara, the upper level half a span above the lower. Servants bustled delivering plates of food, the sharp smell of spice in the air. Lunch was just getting started, but people stared at me, or at least I think they did. We sat down in front of the lower tables Shienarans used that lacked chairs.

Rice with fragrant spices sat mounded in between Perrin and I, alongside platters of peppered chicken and tangy pork. The farm animals given by refugees to the soldiers made good victory eating, and we ate good amounts of food, as we spoke of lighter things. Nynaeve loomed over me as I reached for my third helping of the pork, hand snapping around my wrist.

"I watched you eat enough food to feed three men, Rand al'Thor. Where is Egwene?"

"Could you please let go of my hand? I will tell you right after." She tried to stare me down but I was tired, and in that moment done with her trying to throw her status as Village Wisdom around. I didn't even remember her much, so she simply looked like a beautiful and angry woman, rather than a person of authority. The battle raged for half a minute before she let go, crossing her arms and tugging on her braid, giving me a death glare.

"You've changed, Rand al'Thor, and not in a good way. Not even a month ago I would have had you sputtering and racing to get the words out."

"You think?" I scoffed. "You know what happened to me. Now, Egwenes is in Moiraine's room. They are discussing me, if you wish to j-". She had started off, leaving me in the lurch. "Bitch." I could not help muttering.

Perrin looked at me oddly. "What does that word mean? Is it Old Tongue, like that other word?"

"I-" Stopping, I thought. "It means bitch? I don't actually know. I just know it's an insult to women." I stared at my food, suddenly not hungry anymore. I cannot be going mad, not yet. "I really should get going, Perrin, I think Lan would like me being early. Feel free to join me if you like." I stood up to leave.

Perrin looked over my shoulders, and his eyes widened. I turned around.

"Going so soon Lord Rand?" Mat said sniggering, "Got sword lessons, Lord Rand, do ya? Sword lessons with a Warder, gotta make sure that Aes Sedai leash fits nice and tight, Lord Rand. No time for friends, huh?" He was loud at the end, red in the face and breathing heavily, obviously upset.

The whole room looked at us. How bloody embarrassing, I thought mournfully, now there's bound to be even more gossip about me. I did not look at Mat; I said nothing despite my frustration and anger, simply walking past him and out of the Hall, murmurs turning into conversation as I left. Mat seemed to have picked up Thom's virulent hatred of Aes Sedai. He will hate me too, when he learns what I am, truly. It is only a matter of time.

Lan stood outside the doors leaning on a wall in his graceful slouch, silently joining me in walking to our training yard. After we got far enough away he spoke, not looking at me. "You chose the best way of dealing with him. He was searching for a screaming match, and you simply listened and then left."

I spoke in a whisper, revealing to Lan the dark thought that has haunted me for four days. Lan felt safe, somehow. An older man, sterner than my father but seemed to care in his own way. At least he's willing to teach a farmer how to swing a sword. "Mat wants the old Rand, but he's dead." I trembled a little, hands shaky. "I'm what's left, the dregs of a stubborn fool and whatever poor soul was chosen to suffer along with me."

"You're Rand al'Thor and you are not dead until the final blow," came the immediate reply, almost thunderous in the arcade that led to the empty training yard. "You're Rand al'Thor, and people change. Each event, each moment, each day people change. You simply changed a little more than usual. You've simply had to change a little faster. Do not falter so soon. I would hate to be right about you."

I thought about what he said as Lan directed me through the basic sword exercises he taught me on the road. People do change, the person someone was a year ago may not be much different, but five, or ten? It made sense. I still felt, in the pit of my stomach, that I was the dregs though. The dross. I shook my head, having distracted myself.

"Oh, no more? We can spar then."

I protested but Lan had me set my father's sword aside and tossed me a bundle of lathes in the shape of a sword. "If you get one hit on me, I will let you go early. Otherwise, you're here for three hours."

It was a long three hours.

---

Saven 4, 998 NE (May 14th)

I went to bed early the night before, sore and covered in bruises and lash marks, head pounding from a tension headache. When I woke up feeling refreshed and energized minutes before Lan would wake me I felt two strange knots, one warm like a spring's day and one like a cold brisk wind, pulsing in the back of my mind with a sense of sleep and comfort. I found I could also sense two people toward the Women's Quarters like two lodestones pulling on a piece of iron and I immediately knew what this was. "The bond goes both ways," I said wonderingly. The warm one has to be Egwene, and the chill is definitely Moiraine.

As I got put on my clothing for training, Lan entered without a knock or word. I flinched but kept dressing. I knew any complaint would fall on deaf ears, so I told him the good news.

He looked at me, eyes like flint and face flat. "Where is Moiraine?"

I pointed behind me and to the right, towards the far corner of the Women's Quarters, where the Aes Sedai apartments lay. He nodded. "What does she feel like, in your bond?" He asked.

"Like a brisk wind slightly too cold, sleeping and feeling comfortable."

"Hmm," was all he said.

The morning that followed was one of running with a sword sheathed, holding a bare sword straight out for minutes at a time at different angles, jumping with a sword sheathed. It was all sword based and by the time I finished my arms could barely move from how many times I had to redo how I held the sword. Lan told me I needed to become used to holding it steady in all kinds of situations. He claimed to have done the same exercises as a child. I found the ko'di to be a boon. Pain and discomfort was a distant concern, so I could focus on the task at hand.

After an hour's rest and lunch, I was back, this time for actual sword practice. Repetitive sword moves with my father's sword, and then losing a dozen different ways in spars with bound lathes, Lan comparing my loss to actual deaths he had seen in combat. It freaked me out the first time he did it, and it was still unnerving. I ended the session with only nine large welts rather than the eleven and ten of my previous days. When we finished Lan simply nodded and left swiftly. It was near dinner time, Lan having worked me for three and a half hours, so I washed off what sweat I could with well water, and returned to my room.

Like clockwork Mikeyo appeared with dinner, simpler fare tonight. Roast chicken, a loaf of bread, and salted butter. I eagerly devoured it to experience the joys of buttered bread and warm chicken, washed down with a crisp Borderland beer called pilsi.

As I ate I thought. Both Moiraine and Egwene had been busy throughout the day, moving together this way and that through the militant maze that was the Fortress. I had not realized Moiraine had felt much more than icy calm. What I learned is that the calm seemed to subsume them. There were bright flashes of anger, happiness, joy, relief, frustration, fear, sadness and even boredom, all drowned by calm or placidness. It was strange, but comforting to know that Moiraine felt emotions like a normal person, that she wasn't so cold or distant as she seemed.

Right on cue, just as I finished eating, they turned the corner onto my hallway and stopped before the door. Moiraine still felt icy calm, her bond cold, while Egwene's knot was warm and inviting as a sunny spring day, but practically shouted nervousness. Mikeyo was tending to my plates, so I answered the door.

I greeted them, but Moiraine glided silently into the room and Egwene tried to mimic her, looking a bit silly if I was to be honest. I would never tell her though. When Mikeyo closed the door behind him I felt chills and—

—I was drowning in a raging river of power that burned me and froze me, a molten river of fire with icebergs of absolute zero, the sickly rancid oil lying on the surface turning my stomach. I fought my way up and through, ripping and clawing the endless power into submission until it calmed, under my will and—

—opened my eyes to sense relief and worry and fear lighting up both bonds like fireworks. Inside me there flowed a torrent of Power, of saidin. I could feel everything in the room with me, I could feel the weave of my bedspread, the tiny cracks in the wall, the light of the lamps like warm soft rain. I could feel the two women who stood close to me, and I could see this golden-white glow around Moiraine that made her beauty seem sacred. She was like an angel.

There were beautiful things inside my mind's eye as well, strange colorful symbols and bizarre knots, floating in three groups and each more complex than the previous. The two more complex ones all seemed to miss something vital, but the simplest were easy to understand. So I tried to make one, one that made some kind of light, I believed.

When I reached for the flows of the One Power running through me, however, I hit a glass wall. I frowned. I couldn't use the saidin. I could see it, feel it, revel in how much more the world is with it flowing through me, but I could not use it. And yet the Taint lingered, turning my stomach.

The trumpet call of frustration from Egwene and its brief twin in Moiraine, undercut with a deep bass of worry, summoned me from my thoughts. I looked away from Moiraine, blushing at having stared at her like a slack-jaw fool for who knows how long.

"Rand, are you listening now?" She asked carefully.

Egwene muttered, "Wool-headed fool, just because of a pretty lady..."

"Yes, yes. It is just… I'm sorry… saidin is distracting."

"I know, Rand, I know. I am letting the circle break. I need you to let go of saidin, okay?" Her voice was slow and calm and it seemed silly to me for her to be so worried. How could something that felt so good be bad? At that thought the rancid foulness that coated saidin made itself known, twisting my insides with nausea. Oh, I thought.

"Rand, let go now."

I did. It was like life had faded, as if light, color and feeling had been stripped from it, leaving only a pale imitation.

"Does it always feel like that?" I asked Moiraine, mournful at the loss, then confused I began to manically question her. "What happened to me? All of a sudden I could do nothing by try to seize saidin, trapped in the One Power. And then when I did, I could not even touch it! And there was this beautiful glow about you, Moiraine Sedai. And these strange thoughts, patterns of colors that made light or swords or beams of fire."

Moiraine stared at me, placid calm in her face and voice obvious, the bubbling curiosity, and low drone of worry, I only knew because of the bond. "I believe that somehow, when I embraced saidar you were dragged along to seize saidin, and we formed a Circle. I must admit I do not know how."

"Could it be the bond?" asked Egwene, still worried, looking at me for something. I smiled reassuringly.

Before Moiraine could reply I spoke up. "I woke up with two bonds in my mind, and your heraldry are both fully painted. I think it has something to do with that."

Her calm face melted, replaced by the curiosity I felt in the bond. "Three days for a bond to solidify is unheard of, but maybe bonding a male channeler is different. Such things have never been studied, even if the early years of the White Tower. What does it feel like exactly?"

I almost mentioned I told Lan of it. I wondered why he had not told her? "Like two little knots in the back of my mind, pulsing with emotion that sometimes is music or a sensation or just a feeling. Egwene feels like a warm spring day, and you feel like a… brisk wind. I can tell where both of you are, like a lodestone pulling on an iron filing, and that both of you are healthy, no injuries or sickness."

"Active channelers do not get sick," Moiraine corrected, while giving me a considerate look, hope a rising flute, and worry a deep bass rumbling. "I believe… I believe this is another one of your somewhat poisoned gifts, Rand. A circle is when two or more channelers join together to Weave great works of Power. An involuntary circle is completely unheard of, in the three thousand years since the Breaking. It will be a valuable tool in training you to quickly seize the One Power, and for me to demonstrate techniques and Weaves of saidar, for you to try to replicate."

Egwene felt of hope and relief, fresh and bright. "So you can actually teach Rand, Moiraine Sedai? Oh, that is wonderful news!"

Moiraine nodded, a small smile flitting across her mouth. "I believe I can, in some small way. Certainly it will be easier to advise. But we will not be doing that tonight."

"What about the strange patterns? Does that happen when you embrace saidar?" I asked. Twenty patterns dwelt in my mind, in groups of six, seven and seven, each progressively more complex.

Moiraine frowned, but her curiosity boiled. "No, that does not happen. Describe the light one for me."

"A twist of red and yellow, tied together. My intuition is telling me it makes light."

Her breath caught. "Fire and Air. The basic light Weave all Novices are taught, but a twist instead of a ball."

"So I have twenty Weaves in my head?!" My voice brimmed with excitement. There was a part of me that wanted to touch the One Power right now, to try each of these Weaves out. To wield saidin and see my power touch the world. I forced it down.

"Testing new Weaves is a dangerous endeavor. You risk more than you even know. Promise me you will not use the One Power without my supervision, child." I bristled, annoyed at the immediate dismissal.

"I am no child." I bit out, growing angry at the thought she felt so dismissively of me.

"I am an Aes Sedai, child, older than you know. All Novices are children, regardless of age, and now that I can be assured I can teach you, you will be a child until I accept you are ready. Like all children, their guardians must make sure they do not hurt themselves by doing stupid things, like sticking their hands in the fire or playing with knives. When I teach you, you will be a child, and otherwise, you will be Rand. Is that acceptable, or are you going to bite my head off with that anger?" Her face was placid in its distance, and the bond felt like a cold winter's night.

That… That was reasonable, as long as it did not take years. I took deep breaths through my nose and out my mouth, calming my body. "Alright. Okay. I can agree with that, even if some part of me still rages at being called a child. I will listen to you as my Teacher. You know much more than I do. I cannot deny that, ever."

The smile was back, and the cold receded to simply cool. I breathed a sigh of relief. The iciness of the bond was so much worse when she was angry.

Moiraine continued as if I had not interrupted her. "I will have to plan a romantic picnic at least once a week, so we may train your more destructive Weaves unseen. But that is not why we are here tonight." Amusement played a little jig in Moiraine, and nervousness grew in Egwene. I looked between them, Moiraine's eyes bright and Egwene would not look at me.

"Rand," Egwene said, blushing, feeling nervous, embarrassed. "We had a discussion about the.. bonding situation and its future. I found it… unfair how much of your time is taken by Moiraine each night, and we talked about how much more difficult it will be with four other women and what that might look like." Her embarrassment echoes my own. "So, while it is still simple, we decided to alternate nights." I waited for her to finish but she squeaked and gestured to Moiraine.

A calm face with amused eyes met my confused eyes and blushing face. She spoke plainly. "We will be sharing your bed as bedfellows. I will be taking tonight, and Egwene tomorrow, alternating. On the road we will all share bedrolls if possible. It should help defend your mind from certain dreams as a benefit, having women who actively channel in your bed." She turned serious. "Do not consider that permission to do anything untoward, Rand. It is simply sleep."

I raised my hands up, more than slightly outraged. "Moiraine Sedai, I would never! Not with you, not with Egwene, not with any woman! My father raised me right, at least that much I remember."

She nodded. "And he did well, but you have been staring at me these last few days, in a way unlike before. I know the stares of men. I just wished to make sure you understood the sleeping situation, Rand, before something awkward happened. It is not… rejection, merely such things take time, especially for women such as I," she explained completely calmly. I did not know how she did it, as I could not help my flaming cheeks. Light. I barely know her and now she's going to be sleeping with me? There was nothing for me to do, but turn straight for my bed and lay on my belly, my face shoved into a pillow and scream. Why is my life so exhausting?!

That night, in the dark, Moiraine spoke. "I missed this. Having a sleeping companion. Lan never wants to, says its 'silly'."

She rolled over in the dark to face me, inches from my face. I gave her plenty of room, yet she scooted right down beside me. I did not know what to think. Surely this is some kind of strange ploy? She cannot seriously want to sleep in my bed.

"I grew up in Cairhein. In the Sun Palace. King Laman was my uncle and the halls of the Sun Palace had become more dangerous, as I grew up without my mother and a scholarly father who disdained the politics of nobles. I found great comfort in my bedfellows; the children of favored servants would get chosen to sleep in my bed, to provide for anything late at night. As I grew into my womanhood, they became my bosom buddies, the ones I could tell everything, every little secret I learned and all my hopes, my crushes and my dreams of becoming an Aes Sedai and going on grand adventures with a half-dozen Warders." She laughed, softly. "Looks like you get to live my dream for me though."

I couldn't help myself as I snorted. "Six women is not exactly a dream for me. I'm just trying to get through this all, one step at a time." I paused and decided to spill. If Moiraine wanted to share, I was going to share. "Seeing our journey from the perspective of a watcher, and then what the Iridescent Flame put me through, it makes me think I'm cursed. I don't think I'm Rand anymore… I'm what's left, the dregs of a stubborn fool and whatever poor soul was chosen to suffer along with me." Bitter laughter left my mouth. "Or maybe I'm the poor soul, stuck with the dregs of a stubborn fool, cursed to take the place of the Dragon Reborn. I do not know the truth, but it has haunted my thoughts these last few nights."

She scooted closer, laying an arm around me and squeezing. It was nice, comforting, and I never in a thousand years would have expected it. I sunk into her embrace, feeling the softness of her body against my skin. "Of course you are thinking foolish thoughts like that. You are Rand, you have been Rand and you will continue to be Rand. Specifically, you are the Rand that I like better. I think you're more reasonable, you're willing to listen, you try to keep your temper, you're even excited about channeling! I think the old Rand would have run in horror if even a third of the things you experienced and learned in the last week. I do not think you are dregs or a poor soul, Rand, just changed. We all change. That young women who thought she'd have adventures and men as an Aes Sedai is not me. And the you who thought this journey would end, and you'd be able to return home is not who you are now, the man facing his future head on." She squeezed tight before snaking her arm back. I did not reply.

I don't know if an Aes Sedai liking me better because I'm more compliant is a good thing, I thought, but I just lay there with her warm body curled up next to mine, the comfort of someone who cared, until I fell asleep.

---

Saven 5, 998 NE (May 15th)

Both Egwene and Moiraine arrived together tonight, and I worked on memorization and Oneness, while Egwene played with balls of light, making them dance on her fingertips to Moiraine's commands. As Moiraine left, Egwene turned to me, bright red and a fierce look, her dark brown eyes boring into mine. "We only have a month and the journey to Tar Valon before I must leave you. In that time I will make sure you won't forget me Rand."

"I could never forget you, you are the one I remember most."

Her mouth twisted into a frown. "Lan and Moiraine both told me what you said about yourself. You aren't the dregs, you aren't the leftovers, you're Rand. You're my Rand, the one who apologized for the horrid way he treated me, who faces his destiny without running, who is a little too fascinated with Moiraine's looks, and the man who sought to change fate for me. I love you, Rand. I love who you are. You're my Rand."

She snuggled into me as she spoke, my arm holding her tight. My eyes teared at her words, she had been the one I was most terrified of knowing, that I thought I may not be Rand. I was afraid she would agree with me. I realized suddenly; I was very lucky. I had two women who cared for me, the comfort of a soft body next to mine, and even protection from evil dreams. "I love you too."

She smiled but then adopted a mock serious expression. "We have much to accomplish as husband and wife before I leave you. Get those clothes off, Rand, and quickly." It was an even better night's sleep than with Moiraine.

 

[Adullahan]

Saven 7, 998 NE (May 17th)

We rode out right after breakfast, Moiraine and I. It was a quiet ride, the flowers forming a beautiful carpet in the undergrowth. She did not speak of important things until we were deep into the woods. Instead, she spoke of Cairhien, and the Sun Throne, and King Laman, telling stories of courtly intrigue that seemed endless and almost always pointless to me, but I tried to focus. An hour into our ride, we stopped and sat across from one another in a large clearing with a small pond on the northern edge. Moiraine wore a dark green riding dress slashed with dark brown, earrings of golden amber, and an emerald the size of a ravens egg around her neck. She looked beautiful, I could not help noticing.

"The Five Elements are the threads of the One Power, the individual parts of the whole," she explained, once we arrived at our destination. "Fire, Earth, Air, Water and Spirit. Each is no more powerful than the other, though the White Tower is fair more partial to using Air and Water than any other Element, given that saidar works best with either Element, then the other three. As a man, saidin works well with Fire and Earth, presumably." She took a breath, calm suffusing the nervousness she felt. "The first thing I want you to do is seize saidin, and pick one of the Five and wield the smallest thread you can of any Element besides Spirit, child."

Ignoring the last word, I went through the cycle like I had every night I worked with Moiraine. By burning away my emotions and thoughts, I achieved ko'di and seized saidin in mere seconds. I felt truly alive, a feeling of power that was accompanied by the rotten perfume of the Taint temporarily soiling me. I could feel it trying to seep into me, take hold in my soul and only the knowledge that I would vomit it all up soon kept me from releasing saidin.

I could feel the flows of the One Power, the currents inside the raging river that dwelt inside me. Each differed from the other, and I could almost feel them beneath my skin; the endless heat of Fire, the raging windstorm of Air, the inexorable tides of Water, the deep endless grind of Earth, and the ineffable lightness of Spirit imposing itself. I tugged on the flow of Water and a thread eagerly jumped into my control. It was blue and about as round as a summer sausage. How odd. I can see right through it.

"I've got a thread of Water, Moiraine Sedai." I announced.

She considered me with her dark eyes. "Water is an interesting choice. Should be more difficult for you. Direct it at the pond, try to form a ball of water with the thread. We should see something happen to the pond's surface, at the very least."

I did just that, the thread lumbering in my grasp. A ball of water about the size of a pumpkin came free with a small fish before I squeezed too hard. It popped like a bubble, fish floundering in the air before falling back into the water with a plop.

Moiraine was peering at me as if she was a bird and I was a wriggling worm she had unexpectedly found. She had been nervous off and on the entire ride but now a strange mix of fear and relief and worry. "That was… I knew men were said to be more powerful, but…." Relief won, and she laughed, high and clear. "Rand, you continue to exceed my expectations. I expected us to have to try at least a dozen times to do anything more than dimple the water." She paused, considering. "Perhaps it is simply a difference between saidin and saidar."

I was abashed; she thought me successful when I was not. "I did not wield it well, I meant for a small ball of water, maybe the size of a fist, and certainly not for it to explode!"

She laughed once more. "If this is wielding it unwell, then let us continue practicing Water. Make the thread as thin as you can, and try delicately scooping the water, do not simply grab at it."

We worked on Water for nearly two hours until I was completely exhausted, physically and mentally, my brain feeling squeezed dry. By the time we finished I could make a ball of water the size of my head, though it was unstable and collapsed within half a minute. I could not get much of Moiraine's advice to work, there was no delicate work with the rushing power of saidin. We ate lunch then, sour apples and cold chicken shredded and mixed with vegetables in some kind of creamy egg sauce spooned on slices of bread. After such culinary delights I was tired, and Moiraine let me nap on the blanket underneath the tree.

I woke up in her lap some time later, a small smile on her lips that disappeared when she realized I was awake, pulling on her perpetual calm. I wanted to laugh as I that. "You can be happy at some point in front of me, Moiraine. I know you are not just the distant, cold Aes Sedai you play at, there is no need to pretend."

She raised an eyebrow, her dark eyes peering down at me, then let her face fall back into the small smile. "I will admit I was admiring your face as you slept."

"Why?" The sun was a couple hours past its apex, and she seemed to shine in it, while warmth and birdsong filled the air. My heart beat faster.

"It is strange to consider you as the Dragon Reborn. I was pondering you and your place in the Pattern." She paused, giving me a look before adding straightforwardly. "You look very handsome when you sleep. Adorable, even." I managed to not look away, but my face felt hot, and she surely could hear my heartbeat. She does that on purpose, she has to. She is teasing me! I shook my head in disbelief. An Aes Sedai was teasing me.

Before I transformed, she pulled several bowls from her saddlebags; ones of different metals and ceramics, even a small delicate bowl of green Sea Folk porcelain that must cost more than my father's farm is worth.She had me start with a large clay bowl which shattered and melted from the black tar of the Taint, then a bronze bowl and a copper one, a couple different ceramics that ranged from shattered to melted into a soup, each burnt to a crisp by the colorful flame that I spat on them, a flame that seemed to seek the Taint.

Only the porcelain and the lead container survived, the Taint slowly evaporating in both as thin streams of black smoke that drifted north, the heat slowly melting out the bottom of both containers. The blue-green of the porcelain had turned a sickly yellow-brown. Looks like I'll be needing a lead jar and some kind of iron platter in my room, and to apologize to Lord Agelmar.

The next few hours I spent in my so'shan, working on the six simplest weaves, naming them as I figured them out. Moiraine was content to let me make ham-fisted names, stating it would not be right for a woman to name men's weaves. She let her amusement at the simple names trickle to her face, not hiding it.

What surprised me the most was how easy they were. Often I made more powerful threads than I meant, or saidin simply slipped from my grasp like a wriggling worm, but actually making the Weave was simple. My grasp on the threads of saidin were clumsy, but dexterous enough to make the weaves work somewhat consistently. As so'shan I constantly leaked black smoke from my nose and mouth when I channeled, the Taint burning up before it could touch me. I was glad to not have to vomit every time, but the scent of burnt Taint is going to linger in my mouth for days, I feared.

The Torchlight weave was a knot of Fire and Air that created a heatless flame as a light, and its twin weave a twist of Fire and Air, the Torchflare created a flame that briefly dazzled the eyes. I blinded us when I first made the Torchlight, far too much power makes it into a Torchflare that burns perpetually when tied off. Useful in a fight, but otherwise makes your teacher quite upset. Which was good to know, but it took minutes for our vision to return, only for us to lose it once more when I made the Torchflare. Moiraine forced me to move on, annoyance obvious, despite her calm demeanor.

Next was the Elemental Arrow; I could make the Elemental Arrow from any single Element, forming a ray of the Element that could do some damage from our testing, but traveled far slower than an arrow. Still, it was fast enough to kill someone, which is presumably what the Spirit meant in their gift of these weaves. I struggled to settle my stomach after we tested each one, as I could only imagine what they would do to a person. Perhaps it would be easier if I considered Trollocs instead.

The Fire Arrow came so easily and so powerfully to me that the first bolt I flung instantly steamed the pond, killing several fish. Moiraine forbade me from using Fire again until I could better regulate my power, something I vehemently agreed with. Fire scares me, I could have killed Moiraine with that. The Water Arrow made a lance of ice that pierced a tree. The Air Arrow cut through a thick branch and ripped it to pieces scattering, and the Earth Arrow, formed from a kind of black rock with sharp edges that tore another hole through the already damaged tree before shattering into dust.

The Spirit Sword was, as its name implies, a sword made of Spirit. The sword was set into a loop that caused it to swing around me, presumably attacking anyone near me. It seemed to me to be another dangerous weave, though I knew not what kind of damage a blade of Spirit could do. It would be a surprising tactic to pull off in a sword fight. When I mentioned that, Moiraine had a thoughtful look and spoke of bringing Lan with us at some point, to practice swordplay and channeling together, but only after I had proper control. I dreaded the thought. Even with the One Power I would never hit him.

The Alarm Ward was composed of Earth and Spirit layered on top of one another in a wide circle. It appeared to only let me know when someone crossed the invisible border. We tested with sticks and stones and leaves, even a squirrel that Moiraine held in a thread of Air. Only Moiraine crossing the Alarm would set off the loud noise that rang in my head. She said it was similar, but simpler compared to the more complex wards Aes Sedai learned.

We spent the last hour in a Circle, as she watched me make each weave, before she attempted to do the same with fumbling attempts to wield the saidin I brought to the Circle. Each failure made her more and more frustrated until anger welled up and with the last try she made a bright but flickering flame. She shouted victoriously, arms in the air, then somehow smothered me with a hug though she only stood as tall as my chest. I magnanimously did not mention her embarrassment when she left my arms, her cheeks rosy in the setting sun.

---

Saven 10, 998 NE (May 20th)

Ever since I woke up on the 8th of Saven with the second group of Weaves now crystal clear in my head, I had anticipated our next 'picnic'. Moiraine had me working on the Torchlight weave in my room on her nights. I would try to make the smallest, least powerful light I can, before moving it in a pattern as training for dexterous uses for the One Power. She told me that soon she would have me doing the same exercises that Egwene does with saidar. Today I had a quiet breakfast with Egwene and a frowning Nynaeve and a Perrin who had gotten used to my coming and going at the beck of the Aes Sedai and Warder pair, seeing me at breakfast and lunch only. Mat did not eat with us, preferring the company of the soldiers—Egwene told me he diced with them—and presumably was still upset with me. I was too busy to care.

Training with Lan from sun up to midmorning with a gap for breakfast, and after lunch til third or fourth bell, Moiraine's lessons after dinner, then sleep so I could wake back up before the sun rose. If Mat had issues with me he could talk to me. I wasn't going to chase him.

Then Moiraine approached the table, and we were off, heading south this time to a rocky outcropping an hour from Fal Dara, composed of a jumble of squarish boulders the size of houses. Faint carvings lingered on them, designs I recognize as flowers and animals. Moiraine called them ruins. A ruin for giants maybe.

I shifted, eager to seize saidin and see what the weaves in my head could do. I knew there were some really useful ones in there, more useful than lights or an admittedly deadly arrow of Power.

"Which one do you wish to dabble in first?" She looked calm, but I could feel the bubbles of excitement stirring. I was excited as well.

"The white net of Spirit, with its rainbow of the four other Elements forming the shape of an eye, calls to me. I know it would do something to an object but not what," I told Moiraine.

"Let us try it on a stick or rock first, then your sword, then on me if it seems safe."

The stick was Seen as a stick, but Moiraine and the sword was where the weave revealed its secrets. My father's sword was Seen as a 'Power-Wrought Blademaster Sword', able to be infused with saidin, while Moiraine was Seen as a rank 13 Female Channeler on the Jordanian Scale, whatever that meant. I could not use the weave on myself, however, and Moiraine's direct recreation did not work. I decided to call it the Seeing Eye weave, to give it a slightly more colorful name than Moiraine's offer of 'Identify'.

"What if we tried it with my angreal?" Moiraine asked, excited about what we discovered. She sat in a Circle with me, watching as I worked the flows of Spirit into the required net, eagerly dissecting it so that she could make one herself.

"I would think that would be a great thing to check, if I knew what an angreal was."

"Ah. I had forgotten you don't remember eavesdropping on that conversation. An angreal and sa'angreal are objects of Power, created to use more of the One Power than someone could normally channel safely. Ter'angreal are object with one purpose, like the Oath Rod and your Bonder."

"Then this Seeing Eye would be a perfect weave to test it."

The small ivory statuette of a robed woman with bare feet seemed to soak in the Weave and returned a bevy of information to me. It was a Personal Saidar Angreal looking to connect with a new Owner, identified me as a Male Channeler and denied my attempt to connect. I guess the weave counted? It was used to store sounds and images, and offers an increase of 4 to the Jordanian Scale rank of any female owner, and 2 to 'temporary users'.

Moiraine muttered to herself. "It surprised me, having never heard of it before, but a scale of the users of the One Power is, of course, something lost in the Breaking. And a personal angreal has an owner, that is not known by the White Tower. How many other angreal lie useless because we simply did not know how to add an owner? What other secrets do the ones we use hold?" She then addressed me. "Show me the weave one more time, I wish to work on this now." We spent an hour as she carefully wove similar weaves to the Seeing Eye while we sat in near silence, while she remained unsuccessful.

The second Weave was a similar structure but quite different application. "Another net, put together of Spirit, Air, and a touch of Fire. I get the sense it's supposed to be used on the head, and it heals something but I do not know what. Headaches I guess?" I was unsure.

"Probably the Male equivalent of the weave used to restore stamina. Aes Sedai always use it on the head, but doesn't work elsewhere. We can test it with Lan on another day." She said, distracted with her fumbling towards a saidar Seeing Eye weave.

The third weave was one I attached to my hands, these funny little screws of Green Earth and White Spirit that slid into the tip of each finger and three for the right, left, and bottom of my palm. The screws turned into small ropes of Earth connected to a cyclone of Fire. I wove the flows until they sat correct. My hands lit with a burning flame that shot out in a cone of about four paces in front of me, charing sand and dirt and engulfing a dry shrub.

The weave held steady as I first slowly, then swiftly moved my hands, burning letters into the sand. A. E. S. Moiraine appeared dumbfounded, shaken to her core at what I was doing. When I noticed, I let the weave go, and it disappeared, almost instantly collapsing and the flames gone.

"Are you okay, Moiraine Sedai?" I asked, worriedly. She truly scared me with how surprised she was. I could feel it, spiked with revelation.

"You can channel on yourself," she said, staring at me wide-eyed.

I nodded, unsure what the issue was. Is it really that extraordinary? "Yes, there's these funny little screws of Earth and Spirit that I had to slide into my hands. I can feel them pulling on the Fire, moving it with my hands and desire."

She gave me her full focus now, her voice full of fervor. "It is vital you show me. Is there another Weave without Fire that features the same 'screws' that allow you to channel on yourself?"

I nodded, "This one is Air based, with the same Earth-Spirit screws on ropes of Earth. I think it makes lightning equivalent to my Flaming Hands."

"Let me into the Circle, now." She was stern, but the bond practically vibrated with anticipation and a deep desire, a furious need for knowledge visible on her face.

I opened up to the Circle and let Moiraine in. Like always, she had a white-gold glow about her that almost had her look sacred in my eyes. Disturbingly, it made her even more attractive to me than normal. Egwene is right. I definitely look at her too much. I tore my gaze away. Moiraine waited patiently, not hiding the small smile that lit her face or the satisfaction in the bond. If she wasn't an Aes Sedai I'd swear she'd want me to look at her more.

I shook my head, then channeled my emotion into a better use; wielding saidin to form screws of Spirit and Earth, steadily if clumsily twisting the threads together, the green of Earth stretching out to the bird's nest of Yellow Air, a slap dash of Air threads that seemed to somehow all be the same length yet appeared very different to the eye.

What followed was lightning that immediately arced out in a half a dozen paces, cutting into the stone blocks with soot-black trenches and burning through three lonely bushes before I stopped it. Moiraine gazed at me icily, I could feel her disappointment, in me I assumed, and though her disappointment hurt, I was also afraid. I could have killed Moiraine if she was closer. I needed to be smarter about testing these. She was right to be disappointed.

"I am sorry. Shadowspawn only," I finally said. Moiraine had calmed herself by then and steeled herself as she approached me.

"We shall test the rest of your weaves while I sit on the far side of this ruin, atop a boulder. I had forgotten how powerful you are again, acting like I was training with a woman. But I must realize I am training a man, and men are dangerous from the moment they can channel," she said, more to herself than me. "Please be careful with the remaining weaves. I will not be close enough to save you."

The next two were relatively simple, one an Elemental version of Spirit Sword, with blades of flame and water, air and stone, the other was a thick blade of Air, that could be easily resized, which cut through a thick branch like a knife through silk, while the last weave was another Moiraine made me do over again so she may watch.

This weave had the Earth Spirit twist, "like a rope harness," Moiraine explained as she saw it in the Circle. And at the waist a big hollow circle of yellow Air. When I jumped with it I floated back down, and testing it off the top of a block saw me float gently down like a feather, so that is what I called it; the Gentle Feather weave. Moiraine was even more ecstatic, seeing the weave as a prototype for a flying weave, speaking of different Aes Sedai's experiments with flying, and the weaves they invented. She's pretty cute when she sounds like Loial, muttering about history and knowledge, I decided.

As I made each weave they seemed to settle into my brain permanently, and I knew them in totality, enough to clumsily make each of them until I trained the weaves to be quick and instinctual. I anticipated the morning when the third batch would come into focus. I was excited to see what kind of Weaves I would get. Hopefully less deadly weapons and more useful things, like flying and sending mind letters if that's possible.

I told Moiraine as much, and she smiled, saying with mock graciousness, "I will allow you to try one weave tomorrow night that you do not think is dangerous." Or at least I think it is mock graciousness. She continued more seriously, "If you uncover something else from the Age of Legends, the White Tower will need it. It will be my duty to puzzle out a version made of saidar before we travel to Tar Valon. I need as many days to work as possible."

The rest of the morning we worked my various Weaves to a basic competence, then after lunch I worked with Air in the afternoon. Moiraine had me try to do the various winds that she called out from atop her building block. Far too often I just made a thunderclap or a savage gust of wind that'd tear into the ground kicking up sand or nicking blocks of stone, sometimes snapping a distant bush in half. A stiff breeze is what I ended with, sweating profusely, head pounding with pain I did not know possible.

Moiraine took my face into her cool hands and looked at my sweaty gross deep red face with dirt smears and gravel scrapes, and smiled, the warm affection lingering in the bond surprising me. "You did very well today Rand, very well indeed. Take this," and the icy shock of saidar healing me to my bones almost startled me out of her hands. She laughed and said "Better get used to the feeling." Her face was a calm smile, but the bond poked and prodded like teasing. I slept like a babe in my bed that night.

---

Saven 11, 998 NE (May 21st)

I woke up nearly half an hour before dawn, feeling fully rested since Moiraine let me go to bed early with all my successes on the previous day. I would have sat up but she still lay in bed, arm wrapped around my middle, and I did not wish to wake her delicate sleeping face. If she wants to look at mine then I can look at hers. She seemed truly as young as me in these quiet moments while she slept, with her eyes so full of earned wisdom closed. If only she wasn't an Aes Sedai… So I had time to consider my newly revealed weaves. Within the minute I knew which weave Moiraine would be frothing at the bit for: Traveling.

It had to be Traveling. It was a simple weave composed of a door made of Fire and Spirit, that led to a different location, as far as my intuition told me. That's like by definition traveling. Moiraine would lose her mind.

"What are you thinking so furiously about," came the sleepy mumble into my chest from Moiraine.

I smiled. "Oh, nothing. Just Traveling."

"Traveling?" Moiraine replied with annoyed tiredness. "Wait." Her head popped up, and the bond was nigh feverish with hope. "Traveling?!"

I nodded. "At least, a simple weave of the Spirit and Fire that forms into a doorway to a different location."

Moiraine nodded seriously, now awake. "I'm canceling your Gaidin training for today, and we are going out after breakfast to work on this. This is absolutely vital, even if it turns out to be a lesser form of Traveling that only men use." She got out of bed and quickly changed out of her shift for a new one. I tried to not watch and mostly succeed. She may technically be my wife, but she does not hold me in her heart. Not yet, at least, if she ever will. Better not to stare. Still, I caught glimpses of pale, creamy skin that set my heart racing.

"Why do you have to have yet another picnic with her so soon," Egwene asked when I sat down next to her for breakfast.

"How do you even know yet?" I asked, looking over warily.

"She came by and… told me," Egwene said.

"And she didn't tell you why?" I asked questioningly.

Embarrassed, Egwene mumbled, "She just said it was important."

"Well it is important, and I'll tell you why tonight, alright?" I put my arm around her. "I won't keep it from you, but here and now is not the right time." Egwene just nodded, seeming to accept she wouldn't learn, and changed the topic, as Perrin joined us to eat. Soon after Moiraine came by to pick me up, giving Egwene a brief hug, before lacing my arm and hers, and leading me to our horses, as I held a picnic basket for her.

We were back in the clearing with the pond. Moiraine stood on the far side of the pond. I stood on the opposite side of the clearing preparing the Weave. It was so simple, it merely needed power. I channeled a dense knot of Spirit and a twist of Fire that tugged on the Pattern, thinking of the boulder strewn ruins we had visited yesterday.

In front of me the air dimpled before tearing open to form a door to a pitch-black realm, but not to ruins, like the Ways. Bizarrely enough I could see the front of Bela's cart, like I could step through the door and begin riding it.

"Did it work? I only see a black doorway," Moiraine called out.

"It's holding steady and there's a cart inside, but I just see a black void." I replied.

"Let us both step through, I cannot risk you getting lost alone."

Stepping through the Door with Moiraine into the Darkspace was strange. I felt nothing. No heat, no cold, no sound came from the open Door. I initially worried it would be like the Ways, both oppressive in their darkness, but instead the cart simply rolled forward at speed. I could not tell how fast we were going, and we simply kept traveling in the direction I felt as 'right'. Moiraine was busy taking notes in her little notebook, the scratch of her charcoal pencil loud in the perfect silence, as we did not dare speak for fear of attracting attention of anything that dwelt in this realm.

It took merely two minutes before I felt we were at the 'right' location in the Darkspace and I wove another Door, dimpling the black and tearing open revealing an empty collection of sand, burnt scrubgras, dirt and giant stone blocks, one carbon scored from my Storm Hands. Moiraine held me back from stepping right through, waiting. After a minute she let me go and we stepped through the Door. It was like entering a loud room, or jumping into a cold pond, the wash of light and feeling and sound pushing on me but I quickly adjusted.

We stood amongst the ruins. "You took us an hour's travel in merely a minute or two. Rand, do you know how useful this will be?" She looked at me with an excited expression, eyes beaming and the bond bubbling with excitement and feather-light touches of affection. "You are a miracle, Rand al'Thor. When I learn how to do this, the White Tower will change forever. I could kiss you."

I blushed as the song in my dreams from days ago came back. Waste the days, waste the nights, trying to downplay being uptight. Oh, you're right, I believe a kiss is all we need. I shook the song away. "I'm happy for you, Moiraine Sedai. This should make it much easier to travel to Illian. Perhaps we can visit the Two Rivers with everyone? Or at least Perrin and Egwene and Nynaeve, since they already know about me being me?" It was hard to say the words Dragon Reborn sometimes. Strange to think that I am him. I'd like to see Tam, to meet my father again, at least one last time.

Moiraine looked at me, annoyed, tinging the bond sour. "I am fine with you visiting your father, but the others… Rand. That is not smart. Ba'alzamon has known where you live for three years. Who knows what spy he has, or whom amongst the villagers amongst the Two Rivers he turned to the Shadow. People talk. If there is anything I learned in nineteen years of searching for you, it is that people always talk, regardless of the secret. If any Forsaken learns you can Travel in some form, they would not let you go so easily…" She let the words float in the air. I shivered. "But let us not think of such dark things. I will consider your proposal, both of them. Now, let us travel to a few more locations, to get a feel. First the old Ogier Grove, where we left the Ways."

A minute later we watched as Loial stared worriedly at the black Door that dimpled and tore open in the air near the entrance to the Ways. He seemed to not see us waving or hear us speaking, so I stepped through first. Moiraine followed primly beside me, our hands together. It was worrying to feel no warmth in the Darkspace but I liked to think we both found some comfort in handholding. She certainly laced our fingers quickly enough.

Loial let out a terrific shout. "Light burn you, Rand al'Thor, you terrified me! I thought the Machin Shin or some horrible creature of the Shadow was about to emerge." It shook the branches of the tree nearest to him, disturbing a bluebird, who tweeted annoyance before flying off. He peered closer at us, and blushed, looking between us and our hands.

His ears twitched as he spoke in a quiet rumble, though there was no one else for miles. "I had heard the rumors, but I thought they were fancies of servants and the lying gossip of nobles… Moiraine Sedai, I do not wish to be rude, but I thought Aes Sedai did not take lovers or husbands publicly."

She nodded with a regal grace. "We do not. Tales of heartbreak and loss are common amongst the few Aes Sedai that try to live as women do and most of us have learned to fear love. Rand is different, of course. He will share my age, he is powerful in his own right, and he listens well enough. Twenty years is no difference when we reach a century or two."

"Ah, but... Yes." Loial paused, realizing something I did not. "I see. Yes, you must have read the same books as I've been perusing lately. I shall keep that secret quiet for now," He said with an obvious wink towards Moiraine. "Would you both like some tea? I've got a pot of mint getting ready to steep while I rest from Singing," he said, exaggeratedly changing the subject.

We sat around the small fire he had made, near the new growth he had sung, and let him speak of the work he had done, cleaning the soil and preparing it for growth with food scraps mixed with dirt and worms that he had sitting in wooden boxes. Apparently, over weeks, it would turn the soil into good soil that was eager for new growth. I had never heard of such a thing, but Loial seemed sure. When he sang again, a brief Song that grew a patch of blue wildflowers, I was swept in by the music once more. I could not say it had any lyrics, but it resonated with something in my heart of hearts, and I considered it the Song of the Creator writ small. I needed to learn it, whispered some tiny greedy part of me. Idly I made a flower crown to distract myself from that thought, like Egwene had taught me the other day in Lord Agelmar's personal gardens, and gently proffered it to Moiraine.

She considered it with a mock seriousness that seemed nearly real, sitting tall and regal despite her delicate stature. "Hmm. Good color, and the spontaneity is certainly considered romantic, though the construction is shoddy." It was indeed not the best made flower crown as I was still learning, one blossom I had accidentally torn half the petals of, and another fit awkwardly amongst the rest. "I shall deign to wear it, since my husband crafted it for me." She shot me a quick smile before laying it on her head, and that soft affection rose again. She actually likes it? My face pinked, but I smiled back and stared like a fool.

Loial interrupted sighed a happy sigh, sounding as loud as an old man's snore, that it made me start. "Young love! An Aes Sedai and her young husband, on picnic, pink-cheeked and smiling." He giggled, high pitched for his enormous size. "Ah, Rand, I thought the rumors were still exaggerations, but I see they are not. Congratulations, the both of you." He clapped loudly.

I squirmed, protesting. "They are exaggerations! This is not.. I'm not.. Egwene is who I love,"—I winced at the sudden cold calm from Moiraine—"They're rumors meant to protect me from Moiraine's sisters, to distract them. They're not, you know, true. There is no way they could be." She let go of my hand. There's no way Moiraine truly likes me. That'd be silly to consider.Though perhaps stating it so blatantly was a mistake. It certainly upset her.

"It seems Rand has had enough relaxation. It is time for us to continue our training, Loial. If you wouldn't mind us leaving the same way we came, of course?" Loial looked at me ruefully.

"May I speak with Rand for a moment, before you leave? There's some things I wish to tell him." I worried, my thoughts racing. He is going to tell me he cannot be around me anymore, because I'm the Dragon Reborn, I could not help thinking, irrationally. He had seen me channel. He had to believe I would go mad.

Moiraine nodded while ignoring me, which hurt a little and swiftly left the small fire to wait by the entrance to the Ways. The bond muted somehow, and any read I had on her was gone. Once she was far enough away, Loial whispered carefully, buzzing like a bee the size of a mastiff.

"Even I, as young as I am and unfamiliar with the ways of women, know what you did wrong." He told me sternly. "When you are out with a woman you care for, you would do well not to bring up other women, especially her rival of the heart. Nor do you claim your love of this other woman. That was 'wool-headed', as Egwene would say. You will have to apologize. You obviously hurt her feelings, Rand!"

"I don't think you understand, Loial. She might as well have told me that our relationship is fake, meant to help me as… who I am. How can she be hurt by my mentioning my love for Egwene?" I was truly confused. Does she actually care in that way? No, no. This is merely some Aes Sedai ploy to tie me even closer and Loial stumbled into it. It's too early for anything else. It would not make sense for her to love me.

"'What an Aes Sedai does not say is more important than what they do', Maelis Silvarn, Meditations on the Tower," Loial quoted, before advising me once more. "Apologize, Rand. My father always told me it is simply easier, and my mother loves him dearly, so he must be doing something right."

I refused, my stubbornness taking over me. I shook my head. "Our relationship is not even real yet. I don't need to apologize. If she's upset about something she should tell me."

Loial gazed at me as if I was mad, then at the Aes Sedai with her back towards us. "Rand…" He peered longer, as my face grew stubborn and my shoulders hunched. "As you wish. Good luck with the rest of your day. I'm certain it will be cold."

"Fool ox-brained sheepherder, 'fake relationship' my left eartuft," I heard him muttering loudly, then quietly laughing to himself as I walked off.

She had somehow masked the bond when she left us, but returned to chilly calm when I walked up to her.

"Do you remember the small hollow within the trees where we rested after Taren Ferry? Let us travel there next." She said, cool and crisp. I winced at the lack of any warmth or affection at all, immediately missing it. I am a fool, I thought sourly, but did not apologize. If she actually wanted something more than she would simply tell me.

---

Saven 18, 998 NE, (May 28th)

"Rand!" came a bellowing whisper from Loial in the library of the Fortress. It was as militant as the rest of the city, simple, solid stone bookshelves carved into walls, narrow high slits letting in light, while lamps sat on tables to provide reading light, chained to the tables themselves.

It was the first time I had seen Loial since the meeting with Lord Agelmar and our chance meeting at the Grove. "Rand," he whispered quieter this time, the rumble of a bee the size of a cat, "I am sorry, I have been so busy. Between singing new growth into the old Grove, getting our journey so far down on paper from the other two ta'veren and Egwene, who has been very helpful, and researching chinnar'veren in their homeland I have yet to find any time to speak with you except by accident, my friend." His ears lowered and the tufts of fur twitched in embarrassment. He glanced around the empty library before leaning closer.

"I swear, what I learned does not change a thing. I know you are... I knew you three were important, and you only prove it. I swear, I, Loial son of Arent, son of Halan, will write the true and accurate tale of your rise, Rand. No lies in my book, simply the truth. So I wanted to ask, if I may interview you?"

It surprised me, but from what I knew of Loial it made sense; books were his life. He carried half a dozen amongst his pockets at any given time, a thumb as big as a sausage marking his place when he made conversation. Of course he wants to write a book on me, I thought with some relief and amusement.

"I will not lie, Loial. I was worried about what you thought. What you and Perrin both thought."

"You are a good man, Rand al'Thor. Your fate does not change that." Loial blushed. "I am sorry for not telling you sooner, especially the other day. I have been distracted. You see…" From there Loial explained all kinds of things he read about the special rituals, and societies that formed amongst the chinnar'veren in the years between the Breaking and the Trolloc Wars, and the tantalizing hints that there were male channelers amongst them who did not go mad.

"So you see Rand, if I can find more proof, more evidence, I believe I will be able to prove it to you, that being a chinnar'veren protects you from the Taint. Moiraine Sedai seemed to realize already, when she claimed you would share centuries."

I actually giggled, embarrassingly enough, at the thought of Loial spending long nights reading when I already knew, delighting in all the information he found. If only we had spoken earlier! But I let my worry control me. A mistake. "Loial, thank you. It should be helpful to share with others to prove it, but I already knew. It's quite awful really, I have to throw up the Taint every time. The stuff is nasty, deadly and wrong."

Loial started. "Oh." Then he let a barrel-chested laugh, that shook the air. "Oh my, Rand. Well, reading is never a chore and I read such interesting tales as I tracked the threads of rumor and misdirection and metaphor. Would have been easier on me if I asked you about it though."

"That's what I thought! If we had simply spoken… Silly of me, to be worried wasn't it?" I sighed. "Well, I should see how Egwene is doing." I made to stand, but Loial put a meaty hand on my shoulder, and squeezed gently.

"Elder Haman always said I was too brash, rushing about, getting my thoughts tangled up. It's something we can both work on." He smiled, in a way that scared me. "I plan on staying by your side, though, Rand al'Thor. You will not escape me and my new book so easily." For the next two hours until dinner, we sat at that table in the library, as the light turned soft orange of the setting sun. I walked through waking up an amnesiac, telling him every detail I could remember until we reached where I bonded with the two women. He had this preternatural ability to pull words from me, and I was mentally exhausted by the time we finished. Moiraine is going to have a field day as she has me weave Torchlights and recite passages , I thought as I trudged back to my room to take dinner alone, waiting, not knowing the revelation of the hidden curse in a gift that awaited me that night.

 

[Rockcutter]

Look, I know he's young, but surely it's not so distant an idea that someone, woman or not, would be offended at you loudly proclaiming, without elaboration that there's no WAY there could be something between us! I love [insert plausible love interest here]!

Especially when they openly admit they find you attractive and/or adorable the day before?

Are 19/20 years old guys really like this? I feel like this specific kind of cliche is both overdone and too plausible to dismiss. Help me out here please.

 

[Adullahan]

Saven 18, 998 NE (May 28th)

Something had shocked, horrified, and outraged Egwene about an hour ago. She'd been angry and worried ever since, though Moiraine had not been nearly as worried, and wasn't angry in the slightest. She'd been patient, unconcerned, amused and resigned at various times but never shocked or horrified, just a vague undercurrent of worry. They were together as they usually were, Moiraine having taken Egwene on as all but an apprentice. I assume Nynaeve would get the same treatment if she deigned to stay in the Aes Sedai's presence for more than an hour before scowling and walking off upset.

I waited, impatiently, alone. It was already past eight in the evening, Mikeyo had left, and they had only just started moving towards my room. Instead of worrying about whatever awful thing Moiraine apparently had in store, I seized saidin to feel the rush of life flowing through me, the power of a river of fire as hot as the sun at my fingertips, and with it I wove six Torchlights, all simple flame, to dance in a row. I wasn't supposed to channel alone, but I needed something to distract myself.

Then, as I held each flow, I altered first one weave then another, tugging carefully, trying to find what part of the weave governed color and how. I made flames sparkle, roar, turn to dying coals, and flare up. I made flames pop, distort, twist and fade until finally I made flames that turned bright red and green and blue, painting the room in lurid colors.

I tugged on the half-knot of Air, having found angle and rotation changed the color. Getting the correct color was a much more delicate process and one I did not have time to do, as I felt the pair make their way onto my floor. The unnatural lights winked out, the pure power that flowed through my veins gone, the world duller for its absence and the calm of ko'di dissipating. I shook my head roughly, making my way to the door to open before they knocked.

A red-eyed Egwene burst into the room when the door opened and slammed herself into me, knocking me back a few steps, and I held her while looking over her brown hair at Moiraine, who had muted herself in the bond the moment I saw her. I hate when she does that.

"Woah there Egwene. What happened?"

The Aes Sedai held herself as if entirely unaware that the upset woman in my arms was probably her fault, striding into the room and closing the door, before she spoke in a casual, calm tone. "I have discovered an aspect about the bond that is sure to make you into a brooding mess, so let us retire to the bed. It would be best if you heard this news while sitting in between us. I won't even pretend it is not so we can prevent you from escaping." My worry peaked.

Egwene turned around, keeping my arms around her, her words biting, "I'm upset for you, Rand, unlike Moiraine. One of us has to care for you." Moiraine let out a haughty sniff and her calm face curdled a moment, but she made no reply.

What exactly is going wrong with the bond? What kind of curse do I have to suffer this time? And must they fight over it? I thought bitterly as a sniffling Egwene led me to the bed, glaring at Moiraine.

"She's right, though. We need to make sure you don't get any fool notions in your thick skull. You know I love you, right?" Egwene said the last sentence fiercely, with conviction shining.

"Of course. I love you too Egwene," I replied, confused and worried as I sat with my back against the pillows as my two Dragonwives held each arm.

"Do you know I care for you?" asked Moiraine. Egwene squeezed tighter, and at a glance I saw her grit her teeth.

Hesitantly, with another glance at Egwene like the question was a poisonous viper, I said, "Yes?"

"When do you think I began to care for you?"

"Maybe sometime between the 7th and the 11th?" I guessed, before adding, "You got upset on the 11th when I said everything about our relationship was fake. Loial thought I was being a stubborn fool. I guess I was." I cracked a smile, my nervousness abating a little. Maybe this is just about making the relationship real, and that's why Egwene is upset, I realized.

Moiraine thoroughly crushed that hope. She spoke in a clinical tone. "The 1st of Saven was when I noticed the changes that were happening to me. I acted in ways that felt natural and right to me, but were objectively quite different from my previous actions. I began writing it down, fearing it was a side effect of our bond. Now, I am quite certain it is a feature and protective aspect of our bond."

Anxiety roiled in my stomach. Something in our bond changed the way she thought. How is that protective? Did it change the way I thought too?

"I found you more attractive suddenly, when beforehand I considered you mildly handsome and far too tall. And women are the ones that usually catch my eye and my heart. Not that I am opposed to romancing men, rather the opportunity had never truly arisen," Moiraine explained, calm as a winter pond.

That whole notion was something that came out of the blue for me. I didn't even know that women could romance amongst themselves. Can men do that too? I wondered. I do not know if I would like such a thing. The softness of women is a comfort, Perrin would be too solid a sleeping partner.

"Is that… common? I have never heard of women being married to each other." I asked curiously.

Egwene was bright red and she beat a staccato rhythm on my arm while squeaking indignantly, but Moiraine just shook her head, sounding almost wistful.

"Sapphic love is not common in the Westlands, but far more common in the White Tower and Tar Valon. Tar Valon is the only city in which women can marry women, as it can be a lonely life, living as an Aes Sedai, and your Sisters are sometimes the closest of companions, even in love. Warders are sometimes as well, but more often than not they seem useful tools to my Sisters, not men with love in their hearts. Only amongst the Green Ajah does such sapphic love maintain a minority."

I looked at both women. Moiraine's hair was braided once more, something she had done often since we bonded. Now it seemed sinister rather than nostalgic, just another change forced on her. Egwene wore her hair braided as well, something she has done since we bonded, became husband and wife. What about the clothes they wore? She wore green tonight, as did Egwene, like the Green Ajah that loves men, not like her own Blue, which is presumably 'sapphic'. Did that mean something? Both were simple but well-cut dresses tight across the chest and the collar dipping low enough to reveal the beginnings of cleavage. I think at least Moiraine meant to entice me, maybe the both of them. I kept my eyes on faces, but I wondered, Do they do such things out of their own desire or the bonds?

"Does it disappoint you that I have taken that from you?" I wondered, feeling lost. There was so much about the world I did not know, with my memories filled with holes.

Her look was serious, and she felt sincere in her voice, though the bond remained muted. "No. I am not disappointed in the least. I am happy to be at your side, Rand. This is my life's duty. To be your wife is not a burden."

That she really believed that was something I could not dismiss. She had said as much before, some of it even before the bond, and an Aes Sedai cannot lie. Where before it would flatter me and make me happy that someone cared so much about me, it now felt the fawning false words of a thrall. I shuddered. Exactly how long has she felt so strongly that way?

She seemed to realize thoughts threatened to boil over in my head, and spoke once more. "But to continue, as the days went on, I had desires to touch you. To be with you, speak to you, smile and parade you as my own to others, even to Egwene, to kiss you. Desires I had never even once considered before we bonded. Desires I certainly would not have acted on in the way I did before our bond." My stomach churned. The anxiety grew.

"Compulsion," Moiraine explained to me, her voice soft and steady, "is any weave that uses the One Power to manipulate and control someone's mind. I believe the bond uses something like it in a number of ways, both to make sure we are compatible in matters of the heart and to defend you."

I couldn't believe it. Truly, I had enthralled Moiraine, made her fall in love with me, like a villain from a story. I didn't want to think about it, so I latched onto the part that was confusing. "What do you mean, defend me?"

"The prophecy the Spirit gave you stated one enemy would be amongst your Dragonwives, Rand. That is why it must defend you." She paused, taking a deep breath. "You must understand that when I discovered the bond was manipulating me, I became…somewhat upset, and I intended to use a weave similar to Compulsion on you, a weave of the Blue Ajah used on others to inspire loyalty and authority in the channeler. When I attempted to channel I found I couldn't. I was shielded from the One Power somehow, unable to touch saidar as if a glass window imposed itself on me." What!? Did she seriously try to enthrall me back in some kind of petty revenge?! My skin felt cold and clammy, my heart beat fluttering and the world suddenly seemed far away. What is happening?

Egwene interrupted, letting me focus on her and not the horrific revelation, thankfully. "If you had had your way, Rand would be little more than a tool! Shame on you, Moiraine Sedai. Better the bond changed you, and protected him, I say." Egwene peered over at me and Moiraine, who looked as if she ate a lemon, glared back.

I had to speak; I had to understand. "So you found out I accidentally used Compulsion on you, through something gifted to me by a Spirit of the Creator, and your first action was to use Compulsion on me in revenge?" The bitter bite of betrayal was something new to me. I wish I had never had to feel it. It felt like my foundation had collapsed, that before me stood a yawning abyss. "To apparently make me an Aes Sedai tool and prove the Father of Lies true?" Ba'alzamon had told me the Amyrlin Seat and the White Tower would bind me and truss me up like a lamb to slaughter after the Last Battle. Was this the beginning of that plan? No, I cannot think that. She was simply upset with me and resorted to petty cruelty.

"It is not a true Compulsion"—Egwene scoffed—"I have used it often in my travels, for decades, on my best agents. Someone must actively maintain true Compulsion each time they make an order until the victim's mind is so damaged they become biddable to every order without it. The secret weave merely nudges the person towards viewing me in a better light. After a few years, there is no longer a need for it. It is how the Blue Ajah maintained our networks even in the Fortress of Light and the Stone of Tear."

What she said shocked me. Moiraine straight up told me at least one entire Ajah, one of the seven that composed the White Tower, had a secret enthralling weave that they apparently used constantly to make people agents for them. And may have already been used on me without me knowing, on everyone in our group… That thought sent a chill down my spine. I did not wish to think of Moiraine having betrayed me, betrayed us that way, despite what she had already done. I would not. We could never go back from that. I locked that thought away tight and burnt it to nothingness.

"Then why did the bond stop you, if this secret weave wasn't 'true Compulsion', and not damaging or dangerous?" Egwene asked accusingly.

Disturbingly, Moiraine ignored her question and instead she looked right through me though, seeing something else, something very far away. "When I discovered this, I began to experiment and take notes, trying different ways to harm you and failing. I spent days on it. I even tried to order Lan obliquely, trying to leave him notes to puzzle out what was happening to me and instructions to harm you. Nothing worked. Either I could not do it at all, or I could not finish whatever action I took, like a marionette stuck on the wires, or I would make a critical mistake that conveniently caused my most elaborate and oblique plans to fall apart before anything could happen to you., Rand al'Thor."

I shuddered, my skin clammy. Hearing her talk, even distantly, of trying to 'harm' me had my thoughts roiling. What kind of harm? Deadly harm? Did she try to kill me before the bond stopped her? Did she ever mean it? I felt sick to my stomach. I heard voices speaking, but they sounded like distant buzzing, unintelligible until Egwene laid a kiss on my cheek, breaking me from my panic.

"It's okay, Rand, it's going to be okay. Breathe," she told me. "She cannot hurt you, I cannot hurt you. You are safe with me." When she saw I was back, breathing easily, she smiled a sad smile. "She had me test it, just so you know. She gave me poison to slip into your food. I could pick it up, walk around with it, but when I got close enough that I could almost spill the poison on the food from afar, something stopped me, like bonds of Air. And when I attempted to use saidar to move the poison with Air I felt the same glass wall blocking me from touching it. As far as finding you attractive and falling in love with you, that happened years ago. My love simply feels fuller now. I honestly quite like it, and you have made no complaints at night."

By sheer force of will, I stopped my reaction and simply ignored the last sentence, instead letting my anger fill me. "And this will happen with every woman I bond with? No way to harm me and spurious love from every woman who I am fated for, even Egwene?" I growled.

"It is definitely not love," replied Moiraine, rather forcefully. "I've been in love and what I feel is not that. Its more like…a persistent crush. You are… in my thoughts often, and your presence brings a frisson of joy, despite who and what you are, the nightmare of the White Tower. I find myself wanting to spend time with you, proud in your achievements and even sometimes pining for your bed the nights I sleep alone. Those, the other actions I described earlier, the off behavior, it is not love, not yet. It is something lesser but still powerful for how prevalent and active it is in my day-to-day life."

As if she could read my worried mind, Egwene dragged my face to hers. "Listen, you stubborn ox. None of this is fake. You did not do this. I love you and Moiraine may be a witch who hides awful secrets and tried to betray you, but her feelings are still real. A woman knows, Rand. They grew from the seeds the bond planted and may grow into love someday. Seeds that every woman you bond will have. Love will surround you in the future, Rand al'Thor, so you better not mope about this or I will swat your behind just like Nynaeve did when she caught you and Mat drinking apple brandy at thirteen."

She sounded serious, but I couldn't help how I felt. "Egwene… It is hard for me not to think of this as violating a woman's mind. My father taught me to treat women well. That I needed to love and care for my wife. How is forcing her to like me care?"

"Rand. Get this through your thick skull. The binding gifted to you by a spirit of the Creator does this. Not you. Besides, Moiraine may have made it seem like the One Power is in use, but I cannot feel what stops me like I can when I've felt of weaves of saidin. This is another power altogether that is being used. She even told me this was so. It cannot be your fault if it is not even your power."

Moiraine spoke up as well. "You must bind six women, or there will be no Age of Light that follows this benighted Age. Even though you have moral qualms, this was a prophecy given to you by the Iridescent Flame so that you may win the Last Battle and survive, Rand. Do you not wish to learn to love your wives, living centuries from now, grandchildren upon grandchildren? Or do you wish to be bitter and alone amongst them, shunning their feelings?"

Even with their obvious new enmity they agree on this. How do I even know this isn't the damnable bond somehow making them say this, act like they are fine with it? I cannot know. It is a rabbit hole I must stop climbing down, I cannot doubt Egwene. I can mistrust Moiraine now, she has proven who she is, but I cannot doubt Egwene.

Chills went down my spine and both my ears were pinched, as someone dragged me into a circle that sputtered out instantly. I released saidin as I spun left and right, but both women sat next to me looking nonchalant. It was probably Moiraine. I glared at her.

"I get the message, do not do that again or maybe I'll have to spank someone." Then I glanced back at my brown-eyed childhood friend. "I trust Egwene. She tells me this is not bad, not wrong, then I can live with that, but Moiraine"—I turned to look at her, glaring at once—"you're out of my bed until Egwene parts from us and she will join us on every picnic, every time you visit me. That you wished to use Compulsion on me is such a betrayal, my first betrayal. I knew you wanted to make me King of Illian before I ever met you again. I knew my destiny before I spoke a word to you, as this Rand al'Thor. I decided to trust you, to put my faith in you that you would do the right thing. And you planned on using a weave that regularly enthralls spies to the White Tower's cause, to make me all but a thrall to you, to use and discard! Goddamnit Moiraine, you know something is fucking wrong with Aes Sedai when you start proving the Father of Lies right. He spoke of how the White Tower bewitched the minds of previous false Dragons, and now I find out you'd do the same to me. I cannot believe the audacity of you Aes Sedai, you 'do not use Compulsion' while describing the Compulsion weave you used for decades! I can only somewhat trust you because you conveniently let me know that I hold the leash now, if that's what you want our relationship to be. Get out of my sight." My voice was soft and cold as ice. I felt cold. The realization kept washing over me. Moiraine tried to enthrall me. Moiraine tried to make me into a puppet. I cannot let her make me a puppet. I cannot let the White Tower make me into a thrall.

The muted fuzziness of her faded for a single moment of intense shock, before snapping back less fuzzy and more a tinny buzz that whined in the back of mind. I do not know how she muted the bond but I would learn how. I need to stop being such an open book for an Aes Sedai to use. Must I attain ko'di always when we're together? A look of resigned acceptance came over her face and she stood up to leave with a quiet, "My apologies, Lord Dragon. I'll see myself out." The title was her parting shot, and made my thoughts spiral.

I realized I was in so'shan when I felt Egwenes' soft hands touching my golden antlers. I did not know how long it had been, a minute or ten. "They're larger than before. I think you grew." I think she was trying to distract me.

"Was I too harsh?"

Egwene smiled sadly, and lay her head on my shoulder. "No. Betrayal hurts deep, because you care. But she needed to hear that. She assumed you would listen to her, follow her direction. Just let it be water under the bridge, no harm with no foul. Ridiculous, to think a Two Rivers man would just accept that meekly." She paused, voice careful, a hint of fear lingering in the bond. "I think she used the weave on you before."

"I do not want to think about it, otherwise I won't be able to trust myself. That way lies madness, and I am not mad, but I do not want to think about it."

"Shift back and tell Mikeyo we're good for the night when he returns, and I'll show you something you'll love to think about."

I followed my wife's advice to its blissful end.

---

Saven 19, 998 NE, (May 29th)

I could tell something was wrong when I awoke. Fog filled the room, nearly up to the side of the bed and Moiraine lay next to instead of Egwene when I specifically forbade her from it. Anger lit a fire in my belly. I forcefully shook her to wake her, but she only mumbled, moving lazily with sleep.

"She will not wake Lews Therin Kinslayer." I froze at that voice. By the door, deep in the fog, stood a shadowy figure clothed and gloved in black, with a black silk mask covering his face, and his shadow in the fog writhed like a living thing. His staff was black, too, as if the wood had been charred, yet smooth and shining like water by moonlight. For an instant the eyeholes of the mask glowed, as if fires stood behind them rather than eyes, but I did not need that to know who it was. I recognize that fire and that voice, Ba'alzamon.

"At least, not until I let her. You always had strange companions, Lews. Two farm boys, the village girl who moons after your stolen heart, a young witch in your bed and the manservant she cuckolds you with, a witch-doctor and an Ogier, pitiful creatures still living in this midden heap of an Age. They are dross before the might of the Shadow!"

This was a dream. It had to be. He knows nothing. Knows not of our fights, or our bonds. I stepped from the bed, his words washing over me.

"That girl in your bed is no defense against me. A poor guardian and weak, Kinslayer. If she had a lifetime to grow, she would never grow strong enough for you to hide behind. She is centuries too young to defy me. And besides, she is simply the collar of your leash." Ba'alzamon took a step closer through the swirling fog, though it did not seem to touch him. Did he just call Moiraine a girl? I thought, incredulous.

"My name is Rand al'Thor, and I defeated you, Father of Lies. You lie and lie and even when you tell the truth you twist it to a lie," I spat, trying to stay angry rather than terrified.

He took another step. "Do I, Lews Therin? You know what you are, who you are. I have told you and so have those women of Tar Valon." He gave a laugh like a small thunderclap, but the fog continued to drift, unaffected by him.

"They think themselves safe in their White Tower, but my followers number even some of their own. The so-called Aes Sedai named Moiraine, the one who stole your heart, told you who you are, did she not? Did she lie? Or is she one of mine? The White Tower means to use you like a hound on a leash. Do I lie? Do I lie when I say you have the Horn of Valere?" He laughed again, and it was all I could do not to cover my ears from the booming thunder and sepulchral screams. "Sometimes old enemies fight so long that they become allies and never realize it. They think they strike at you, but they have become so closely linked it is as if you guided the blow yourself."

I scoffed, his lies obvious. Even if he did have Aes Sedai in the Tower, Moiraine was not one of them. Could never be one of them. For all her mistakes, she fought on the side of Light or I would have already long been a slave to the Dark One. "You do not guide me, I deny you. I will always deny you. I deny you thrice." I grabbed my sword from where it lay beside my bed.

"Swords do no good against me, Lews Therin. You should know that." Darkness filled the room, the living shadow growing as I unsheathed the heron-marked blade slowly. Ba'alzamon took another step. "I have a thousand strings tied to you, Kinslayer, each one finer than silk and stronger than steel. Time has tied a thousand cords between us. The battle we two have fought; do you remember any part of that? Do you have any glimmering that we have fought before, battles without number back to the beginning of the Wheel, and even further? I know much that you do not! That battle will soon end, the Last Battle coming. The last, Lews Therin. Do you really think you can avoid it?"

His grin was an open furnace. "You poor shivering worm, you will serve me or you will die! And this time the cycle will not begin anew with your death. The grave belongs to the Great Lord of the Dark and this time, if you die? You will be destroyed, utterly. This time the Wheel will be broken, as the Song was Sundered in a Time before Time. This time, the world will be remade in a new image. Serve me! Serve Shai'tan, or be destroyed forever!"

With the utterance of that name, the darkness swelled and the air thickened, and I felt it engulf me, colder than ice and hotter than flame, burning my skin and freezing my soul. I shifted and pulled on the Flame Imperishable, the sacred fire of the Creator that the Iridescent Flame left lit in my heart and blew dragonfire. The polychromatic radiance of the flames tore through the darkness, burning it back like kindling, burning Ba'alzamon. It was like everything else, the room, Moiraine, the air itself was an illusion, but Ba'alzamon and the now-distant shadow who fled the light of the flames.

He screamed a horrid scream, a scream of a thousand dead souls moaning for salvation. His clothes burnt away in the Flame Imperishable, revealing a horrific knitting of burnt and healthy skin, leaving black-edged, red crevices crossing strips of healthy flesh, ever healing and ever burning over and over, crawling across his body like snakes in grass.

In response, the air seemed to grow hot as flames grew in the trenches of burnt flesh and the sword burned in my hand, glowing cherry red. My skin seemed to crackle, and I screamed and screamed and screamed as I burned. My hand turned to ash, then my arms, my chest and finally my face and eyes, but I still lived, my heart pumping the sacred flame amidst the ash.

And then suddenly I was back in my room alone in the dark, healthy and fine but for the heron burnt into my hand. It already wept pus, skin blackened and cracked. I could feel Moiraine and Egwene moving swiftly towards me as a throbbing siren of pain erupted, distracting me. I seized saidin and lit the hearth with a quick flow of Fire. I heard swift feet that entered and found me kneeling with my hand on the floor, the cherry red sword now merely a dull red at my side, my bedclothes smoking.

Egwene raced to my side, while I felt the chill of saidar. Holding saidin meant she could not pull me into the circle. She cannot hurt me, I told myself as Moiraine quickly wove threads of Power into what must be a Healing weave. The cold shock of Healing was a comfort as the pain abated, though I watched her like a hawk.

Egwene had been explaining something. "I did not know what to do. You were screaming and bleeding and burning but you would not wake, so I had to call on Moiraine Sedai. What happened?"

I looked away, back to Egwene. "Ba'alzamon, that Forsaken who pretends to be the Dark One. He visited my dreams again, trying to make it seem he visited me in the flesh but he made my room wrong. Moiraine was in the bed, not you."

"Fool," muttered Moiraine audibly, but I ignored the barb, speaking to Egwene. She had paled at the mention of the Forsaken.

"He spoke nonsense and lies, mostly. Things about how he controls parts of the White Tower, that we had fought each other Age after Age, even in a Time before Time, and something about a Song. He ranted that he knew things I did not and that he had a thousand strings pulling me so it would be better if I served him. When the Shadow that powered him rose up to engulf the room I burned him with dragonfire from my so'shan and he burnt me back, the bastard. But it was good, what I learned was important. Ba'alzamon is mad, he believes himself the Dark Lord in some form, and he has been wounded once again. He has spies here but they cannot alert him of information in any timely manner. He named Moiraine my lover, and you, Egwene, as a lovestruck fool. He truly believes it, too."

I finally looked at Moiraine. I made my voice cool, and became One. I became one with the colorful fibers of the rug atop the cold stone floor of the fortress, one with the heron-marked blade that had cooled enough to touch, one with the soft skin of Moiraine's hands as she still held my hand.

"Is the Healing done?"

Moiraine nodded, taking her hands from mine, and I missed the cool touch almost instantly. I am a fool. A dull throb pulsed in my hand, heavy and slow, but no more pain than that. A heron marked my hand, a perfect impression burnt into my palm in new pink scar tissue, and looked as if it had been healing for weeks, if not months.

"Twice and twice he shall be marked," she murmured. I ignored her once again.

"What is the time?" I asked Egwene. Darkness came from the arrow-slits, the only light came from the hearth.

Lan spoke from where he leaned in the corner of the room. I startled, not having noticed him arrive. "Just before dawn, sheepherder. Get dressed in your clothes, let us see how badly that thing sets your training back."

 

[Adullahan]

Look, I know he's young, but surely it's not so distant an idea that someone, woman or not, would be offended at you loudly proclaiming, without elaboration that there's no WAY there could be something between us! I love [insert plausible love interest here]!

Especially when they openly admit they find you attractive and/or adorable the day before?

Are 19/20 years old guys really like this? I feel like this specific kind of cliche is both overdone and too plausible to dismiss. Help me out here please.

Click to shrink...

I reread the series recently, and was struck by how clueless Rand is in the beginning. I do honestly think its plausible for Rand to do something like this, especially since Aes Sedai are almost in another category of gender, it feels like, for the male characters; an untouchable, terrifying gender. Plus I've learned writing this series that I like to be a bit dramatic. So apologies for the cliche, but I had to do it.

 

[Yzakschwarz]

So he rejected Aviendha whyyyyyy? Couldn't have been Elaine danm it. No but seriously I read those books when I was 14 or so all of then in the course of one month and even then it also always struck me how much of idiots the boys where at the beginning a little like Eragon on the first book, I mean sure don't trust Ages Sedai and all that but at the time they did not know about the black ajah so I found idiots for at least not considering the fact that they must do even if they did not liked I mean really.
You are doing a good job at capturing the feel though and I can't help but think this bond with Egwene will end badly even more to the fact that thing in Talks( is this right) with the Hawking descendents and the leash.
Or maybe not and you will make work anyway I will stop reading for a while to accumulate and come back later.

 

[Adullahan]

So he rejected Aviendha whyyyyyy?

You are doing a good job at capturing the feel though and I can't help but think this bond with Egwene will end badly even more to the fact that thing in Talks( is this right) with the Hawking descendents and the leash.

Click to shrink...

Don't worry, if/when I get to the Shadow Rising, there will be plenty of tsundere Amazon for Rand to romance.

And thanks for the compliment! Do you mean Falme, when you say Talks?? If so, then yeah Falme will be a doozy.

 

[Adullahan]

Contains excerpts from the Great Hunt by Robert Jordan

---

Amadaine 2, 998 NE (June 9th)

Young as I was, I was taller than most men, but Lan stood just as tall and more heavily muscled, if not quite so broad in the shoulders. A narrow band of braided leather held the Warder's long hair back from his face, a face that seemed made from stony planes and angles, a face unlined as if to belie the tinge of gray at his temples. Despite the heat and exertion, only a light coat of sweat glistened on his chest and arms. I searched Lan's icy blue eyes, hunting for some hint of what the other man intended. The Warder never seemed to blink, and the practice sword in his hands moved surely and smoothly as he flowed from one stance to another.

With a bundle of thin, loosely bound staves in place of a blade, the practice sword would make a loud clack when it struck anything, and left a welt where it hit flesh. I had learned this all too well over the last month. A red line stung on my ribs, and another burned my shoulder. It had taken all my efforts not to wear more decorations. Lan bore not a mark, of course.

Stripped to my waist I shivered at the wind's cold caress and flexed my fingers on the long hilt of the practice sword I held. The hot sun and hours of practice had slicked my chest, and my dark, reddish hair clung to my head and neck in a sweat-curled mat. A faint odor of decay in the swirl of air made my nose twitch, and the image of a freshly-open grave appeared in my mind. I was barely aware of odor or image at all; I strove to keep my mind empty, but the other man sharing the tower top with me kept intruding on the emptiness. Ten paces across, the tower top was encircled by a chest-high, crenelated wall. Big enough and more not to feel crowded, except when shared with a Warder.

I had already formed a single flame in my mind and concentrated on it, to feed all emotion and passion into it, to form a void within myself, then the ko'di came, an imperfect Oneness; saidin glowed and sung to be used through the stillness. But it was easy enough after all the practice. The cool peace of the void crept over me, and I was one with the practice sword, with the smooth stones under my boots, even with Lan. All was one, and I moved without thought in a rhythm that matched the Warder's step for step and move for move.

The wind rose again, bringing the ringing of bells from the town. Somebody's still celebrating that spring has finally come. The extraneous thought fluttered through the Oneness on waves of light, though I cracked down tight and choked the thought. As if the Warder could read my mind like an open book, ko'di or no ko'di, the practice sword whirled in Lan's hands.

For a long minute the swift clack-clack-clack of bundled lathes meeting filled the tower top. I made much effort to reach the other man, but it took much of my concentration to keep the Warder's strikes from reaching me. Turning Lan's blows, I was forced back. Lan's expression never changed; the practice sword seemed alive in his hands. Abruptly the Warder's swinging slash changed in mid-motion to a thrust. I had not expected it, but I went to bat away the thrust before it could reach me and give me yet another welt.

The wind howled across the tower... and trapped me. It was as if the air had suddenly jelled, holding me in a cocoon. Pushing me forward. Time and motion slowed; horrified, I watched Lan's practice sword drift towards my chest as mine flew uselessly to the ground. There was nothing slow or soft about the impact, my ribs creaked as if I had been struck with a hammer. I grunted, but the wind would not allow me to give way; it still carried me forward, instead. The lathes of Lan's practice sword flexed and bent—ever so slowly, it seemed to me—then shattered, sharp points oozing toward my heart, jagged lathes piercing my skin. Pain lanced through my body; my whole skin felt slashed, and I burned as though the sun had flared to crisp me like bacon in a pan. With a shout, I finally threw myself back, falling against the stone wall. I touched the gashes on my chest and raised bloody fingers before my eyes in disbelief.

"And what was that fool move, sheepherder?" Lan grated. "You know better by now, or should unless you have forgotten everything I've tried to teach you. How badly are you—?" He cut off as I looked up at him.

"The wind." My mouth was dry from the experience. "It—it pushed me! It.... It was solid as a wall! It held me there and made me feel horrendous pain. I thought I was burning alive before I could move away."

The Warder stared at me in silence, then offered a hand. I took it and let myself be pulled to my feet. "Strange things can happen this close to the Blight," Lan said finally, but for all the flatness of the words he sounded troubled. That in itself was strange. Warders, those half-legendary warriors who served the Aes Sedai, seldom showed emotion, and Lan showed little even for a Warder. He tossed the shattered lathe sword aside and leaned against the wall where our real swords lay, out of the way of their practice.

"Not like that," I protested. I joined the other man, squatting with his back against the stone. That way the top of the wall was higher than our heads, protection of a kind from the wind. If it was a wind. "No wind had ever felt... solid... like that, or caused by skin to feel sliced by a dozen knives. Peace! Maybe not even in the Blight does such a wind exist." Then I had a realization. "The Forsaken. One of them just tried to attack me." Lan gave me a look, something flashing in his eyes, but sighed.

"I'll tell Moiraine Sedai," he told me, making me bristle. It had been a week and two days since she revealed her betrayal, and the curse in the bond. As pretty and smart and surprisingly emotional she can be, I had to remind myself that I was angry with her on occasion. Yet it still hurt, what she had tried to do.

In the days that followed that horrible night and morning, I thought on it. And sometimes it made a sick kind of sense; that she would do such a thing, think it right. And other times it felt like my world had irrevocably cracked. Loial tried to claim my heart was broken, and Egwene did not disagree with him, when I brought up the notion to her. All I knew was that it hurt, far worse than the heron burn in my palm.

From the south came a faint peal of trumpets, a rolling fanfare slowly growing louder, accompanied by the steady thrum-thrum-THRUM-thrum of drums. For a moment, Lan and I still stared at each other, then the drums drew us to the tower wall to stare southward.

The city stood on high hills, the land around the city walls cleared to ankle height for a full mile in all directions, and the keep covered the highest hill of all. From the tower top, we had a clear view across the chimneys and roofs to the forest. The drummers appeared first from the trees, a dozen of them, drums lifting as they stepped to their own beat, mallets whirling. Next came trumpeters, long, shining horns raised, still calling the flourish. Even at that distance I could make out the huge, square banner whipping in the wind behind them; a swirl of colors that represented the Ajah, and at the heart of it, a shape like a pure white teardrop. I gasped. The Flame of Tar Valon, just like Egwene's hand tattoo and her shield. Are they here for me? There is no way Moiraine told them about me. From how she explained it, she would be worse than killed, cut off from channeling the One Power, for what she taught me. As for myself, I would be gentled. Did a servant see me? What did someone say to bring them here? Lan grunted, but said nothing to my gasp; the Warder had eyes like a snow eagle. There was no way he didn't see the banner.

I glanced at him, wondering if he would say anything, but the Warder said nothing, his eyes intent on the column emerging from the forest. Mounted men in armor rode out of the trees, and women ahorseback, too. Then a palanquin borne by horses, one before and one behind, its curtains down, and more men on horseback. Ranks of men afoot, pikes rising above them like a bristle of long thorns, and archers with their bows held slanted across their chests, all stepping to the drums. The trumpets cried again. Like a singing serpent the column wound its way toward Fal Dara.

"Ingtar's with them." Lan sounded as if his thoughts were elsewhere. "Back from his hunting at last. Been gone long enough. I wonder if he had any luck?"

"Aes Sedai," I whispered when I finally could. All those women out there… Moiraine was Aes Sedai, yes, but I had traveled with her, I bonded with her, I had trusted her and slept in the same bed as her, for Light's sake she was my wife! And she still had tried to betray me early on, and kept the truth from me. Aes Sedai were dangerous to a man like me, a man who could channel.

She was the only one, the only Aes Sedai I could trust, and even then I cannot trust her much, as she had proven. The White Tower were the ones that spun webs to snare rulers, and pulled strings on their puppet thrones, and what they would do to me… what they would take from me... So many Aes Sedai together, and coming like this, was something terrifying. Light burn Moiraine, they cannot be for me. I cleared my throat; when I spoke, my voice had a raspy grate to it. "Why so many, Lan? Why any at all? And with drums and trumpets and a banner to announce them."

I tried to count the women, but they kept no ranks or order, moving their horses around to converse with one another or with whoever was in the palanquin. Goosebumps covered me. I had traveled with Moiraine, and met another Aes Sedai, and I had begun to think of myself as worldly. Nobody ever left the Two Rivers, or almost nobody, but I had. I had seen things no one back in the Two Rivers had ever laid eyes on, done things they had only dreamed of, if they had dreamed so far. I had seen a queen and met the Daughter-Heir of Andor, faced a Myrddraal and traveled the Ways, I met a spirit of the Creator and channeled weaves that have not been seen in three thousand years, and none of it had prepared me for this moment.

"Why so many?" I whispered again.

"The Amyrlin Seat's come in person." Lan looked at him, his expression as hard and unreadable as a rock. "Your lessons are done, sheepherder. No picnics today." He paused then, and I almost thought there was sympathy on his face. Probably was. "Moiraine may not be able to protect you. It would have been better if we left a week ago and took the horn with us. But come. She will want to see you anyways, she must prepare you as best she can. As much as you'll let her."

I worked my mouth, trying to get a little moisture. I stared at the column approaching Fal Dara as if it really were a snake, a deadly viper. The drums and trumpets sang, loud in my ears. The Amyrlin Seat, who ordered the Aes Sedai. She's come because of me. I could think of no other reason. I stammered out, "Moiraine won't let her gentle me." It sounded weak even to my ears. The bond may protect me from Moiraine but it won't protect me from any other Aes Sedai.

"They were Novices and Accepted and raised to the shawl together, sheepherder, she's been bonded to you less than a month, for all she claims to be your wife behind closed doors." Lan spoke as if that was an answer worth giving, before he snatched up his shirt and disappeared down the ladder into the tower.

They knew things, had knowledge that could help me, of that I was sure. And I did not dare ask any of them, but Moiraine. I was afraid they had come to gentle me, but also afraid they haven't, too. Light, I don't know which scares me more, gentling or a collar. Moiraine is leash enough, as pretty and smart as she is.

With a start, I realized that the Aes Sedai party was entering the city gates. The wind swirled up fiercely, chilling my sweat like droplets of ice, making the trumpets sound like sly laughter; I thought I could smell an opened grave, strong in the air. My grave, if I keep standing here.

Grabbing my shirt, I followed Lan down the ladder where he waited for me. We followed the flow of servants and maids and noblewomen to the Women's Quarters all getting prepared for the imminent arrival of the Amyrlin Seat and however many dozen Aes Sedai. They still made us wait as they let Moiraine know we had arrived, long minutes of women staring and speaking about us audibly, about the Last King of Malkier and the man who stole his Aes Sedai's heart, the Exiled Southern Lord, half Aiel and fights like a devil.

It was all a bunch of dross that had been drummed up by Moiraine flaunting her closeness with me, kicked into overdrive by Mikeyo strategically waiting to reveal she slept in my room often until a week ago, and her decision to begin holding my hand when we walked the gardens and riding the same horse when we went on 'picnics', combined with the daily torture by Lan. I dread what her sisters will think of me, probably some kind of baby warder they can pick on, before they learn the true horror and gentle me. No, no. Moiraine cannot betray me. I laughed to myself a little bitterly. Not anymore.

Moiraine arrived then and ushered us quickly to her rooms. Egwene and Nynaeve stood there in fine dresses, green silk for Nynaeve and a blue for Egwene which fit her slim, delicate form, with dangling earrings of sapphires I recognized as Moiraines, and a bracelet studded with emeralds and rubies. She looked stunning.

A silk black shirt, fine black trousers, and a bright scarlet and gold jacket with black dragons embroidered curling down my arms twice and a much finer black leather sheath with wrought-silver dragons and herons for my sword lay on a settee for me, but for Lan there was nothing. Either because he's her Warder and does not need it, or because he simply is unwilling to put on a fashion show for her, I do not know which.

"Rand, into my bedroom. I need to make sure everything fits on you and time is not on our side." Moiraine spoke in a cool tone that brooked no argument. I frowned but followed the order.

I went and began quickly changing, staring into the mirror as I transformed from a typical young man into some kind of noble lord. It was truly bizarre how well Moiraine knew to dress me. I did not look like a shepherd at all, the dragons on my arm glinting in the morning light from the arrowslits and gold-chased stone statue of a woman holding an actual lit lamp. My hair was tied back, having grown quite quickly over the past month, more like three months of growth. The bold colors seemed to bring out the blue in my stormy eyes, and any childhood fat remaining in my face had been boiled by endless exercise leaving a handsome and dangerous young man with a sharp face, not a boy.

Moiraine came into the room without a knock, as usual playing her games as far as I am willing to let her, Egwene following quietly behind her. Moiraine stared at me with clinical eyes, but could not help the satisfaction sparking in the bond, though she played at cold often this past week, muted or buzzing in the bond. "You look all the way an exiled Southern Lord. Quite a fitting image, Lord Dragon." I couldn't help cringing at that name.

"Please don't tell me that people will call me that. I'd rather be Lord Rand any day of the week."

She ignored me, content to simply appreciate me now. It always made me squirm, though I had begun to get used to it, before... She always made sure the clothing looked good, in that clinical way, then just… looked, like a man looking at a woman he found beautiful. Nothing in my memories had prepared me for the opposite, and it was as uncomfortable as it was flattering. I guess we both consider each other pretty, I thought ruefully. If only she hadn't… I shook my head.

A calm smile and her tone took on a sweetness it had recently lacked. "You've done well this past month, Rand. Very well indeed. Lan has been florid with his praise of your efforts, in that he praised them at all. Whatever that sacred fire did, it has certainly made you into Warder material. That is not to mention my work with you, but I think you know how I feel about that."

I did. I could feel her relief, hope, and pride every time I got quicker and better at a weave, working not merely with strength but with finesse, slowly but surely becoming more dexterous with the One Power. I also felt her fear, receding each session.

"Power could win a lot of battles," she told me more than once, "But a more dexterous channeler could kill you before you get a weave out, or exploit a weakness, or simply be faster, forcing a loss."

Moiraine kissed me when she figured out opening a Door worked. It made my stomach squirm, thinking of that kiss. It was nice. It was really nice, but it was given to me by Moiraine, and I could not help feeling uncomfortable with her. A spring day, the 26th of Saven, in a clearing of yellow flowers called suncatchers, the air dimpled and a black door appeared. Moiraine shouted in victory, before ordering me to bend down, taking my head in her hands and planting a long kiss on my lips. Egwene shouted and beat at me in the moment and when she decided I still thought about it, days later. Unfortunately, she was usually correct.

Such a Weave would be so vital to the White Tower as to completely change everything about how they worked. We studied it once a day until the 26th. Days of traveling between her room and the clearing until she figured out how to guide saidar in a way that would not cause the portal to instantly collapse with a thunderclap or pull on her soul in some unsettling way she would not explain. The female version of a Door also had nothing to do with Fire and Spirit tearing a hole through the Pattern in the least, instead being an intricate web of Air, Water and Spirit that connected parts of the Pattern together. She rode a delicate looking stone flower that made me feel embarrassed for my horse cart. Egwene, though, said the cart made her nostalgic. Truly though, some of my gifts were boons as much as some were curses. Some.

I had no doubt that Moiraine had done a flurry of Dooring all over the place, pulling strings and setting up new plots for me, without telling me of course. I brought myself back to the room.

"I feel ready. I feel prepared. I just worry. I cannot help feeling they are here for me." I breathed, in through the nose, out through pursed lips.

"If they are here for you, then we will simply go to the Two Rivers, or Caemlyn or any other place we have been. They cannot catch us, not with your Door," Egwene comforted me.

"Rand, we need to discuss something." Moiraine with a cool voice once more, the bond muted but not buzzing. I frowned and nodded.

"Go ahead. But we will discuss it."

She sighed, before schooling herself. Egwene sat herself next to me and tried to adopt the cool confidence of the Aes Sedai with some middling success. I wrapped an arm around her and squeezed, getting a squawk and decent punch on the arm.

"I think it would be best if you accompanied me as my second Warder to my inevitable meeting with the Amyrlin Seat." She continued before I could voice protest. "It would be embarrassing of me to be having a tiff with my lover, but pretty normal for a new Warder 'chosen in the wild', as the Green's would say. It is dangerous for me to lose face, given my already eclectic history. Only my strength keeps the Sitters from calling me back."

I considered what she said. Moiraine had told me Aes Sedai considered strength a marker of rank and she was one of the highest. "Aren't I already basically a Warder-in-training?"

"Official Warders are protected from the predation of other sisters. Otherwise I must fear a Green trying to bond you, for you are too pretty and too strong. I would not have one of my sisters bond you. Not unless they are fated, and even then after a close vetting to make sure they are not Black Ajah."

Egwene agreed, "If you must officially be her Warder to protect you from other Aes Sedai, I can accept that. We both know I'm the first wife." She said, as smirked at Moiraine and nuzzled me.

"Meeting the Amyrlin, surrounded by Aes Sedai, just to save face and prevent one of your sisters from bonding me. What's the next reason?"

"I want you as my Warder. I desire it personally." I made a hand motion for her to continue and she adopted a moue of annoyance. "It will allow us to act freely when we leave with the Amyrlin's party. Which is inevitable, even if you protest. She will not let me leave without accompanying her. Otherwise I will be continually embarrassed, running around with little better than a youngling." Don't know what that is, but I can accept the rest.

"Okay. Then I'll agree. But I want to use the Door to go to my father's farm, and let him know everything. We'll go tonight." I nodded to myself. I had been itching to go, and Moiraine had deemed it 'unsafe' as spies for the Shadow could be watching the Two Rivers. I think she was just scared of meeting my father.

Moiraine calmly replied, "I will be busy tonight, most likely."

"Even better," chirped Egwene, "me and Rand will go together."

"I do not know if that is—"

"We will go, and you will stay behind to accomplish the business you have to do with your fellow Aes Sedai. I will be your second Warder, to protect me and your pride. It is decided."

Moiraine gave a demure nod and murmured, "As my Lord Dragon commands."

I bristled, my mouth twisting. Egwene's comforting presence kept it shut. I must get used to it. Others will use the title, eventually. We left the room and found Nynaeve staring daggers at a stoic Lan, as usual when they were left alone for any long period of time. The entire way to the courtyard of the main gate Lan spoke quietly to me of how to conduct myself in front of the Amyrlin; what to say, what to do, how to walk and stand. There were a number of things and my focus was split between Lan and navigating the crush of people moving in the same direction as our group, so I only caught maybe half.

Just inside the main gate, a line of men stood beside their horses, fourteen of them. No two wore the same kind of armor or carried the same sort of sword, and none looked like Lan, but I did not doubt they were Warders. Round faces, square faces, long faces, narrow faces, they all had the look, as if they saw things other men did not see, heard things other men did not hear. Standing at their ease, they looked as deadly as a pack of wolves. Only one other thing about them was alike. One and all they wore the color-shifting cloak I had first seen on Lan, the cloak that often seemed to fade into whatever was behind it. It did not make for easy watching or a still stomach, so many men in those cloaks.

A dozen paces in front of the Warders, a row of women stood by their horses' heads, the cowls of their cloaks thrown back. I could count them, now. Fourteen. Fourteen Aes Sedai. They must be. Tall and short, slender and plump, dark and fair, hair cut short or long, hanging loose down their backs or braided, their clothes were as different as the Warders' were, in as many cuts and colors as there were women. Yet they, too, had a sameness, one that was only obvious when they stood together like this. To a woman, they seemed ageless. From this distance I would have called them all young, but closer I knew they would be like Moiraine. Young-seeming yet not, smooth-skinned but with faces too mature for youth, eyes too knowing.

Calmly the Aes Sedai ignored the onlookers and kept their attention on the curtained palanquin, now in the center of the courtyard. The horses bearing it held as still as if ostlers stood at their harness, but there was only one tall woman beside the palanquin, her face an Aes Sedai's face, and she paid no mind to the horses. The staff she held upright before her with both hands was as tall as she, the gilded flame capping it standing above her eyes.

Lord Agelmar faced the palanquin from the far end of the court, bluff and square and face unreadable. His high-collared coat of dark blue bore the three running red foxes of the House Jagad as well as the stooping black hawk of Shienar. Beside him stood Ronan, age-withered but still tall; three foxes carved from red avatine topped the tall staff the shambayan bore. Ronan was Elansu's equal in ordering the keep, shambayan and shatayan, but Elansu left little for him except ceremonies and acting as Lord Agelmar's secretary. Both men's topknots were snow-white.

All of them—the Warders, the Aes Sedai, the Lord of Fal Dara, and his shambayan—stood as still as stone. The watching crowd seemed to hold its breath.

Suddenly Ronan rapped his staff loudly three times on the broad paving stones, calling into the silence, "Who comes here? Who comes here? Who comes here?"

The woman beside the palanquin tapped her staff three times in reply. "The Watcher of the Seals. The Flame of Tar Valon. The Amyrlin Seat." I squeezed Egwene's hand tight and Moiraine took a step closer to my side.

"Why should we watch?" Ronan demanded.

"For the hope of humankind," the tall woman replied.

"Against what do we guard?"

"The shadow at noon."

"How long shall we guard?"

"From rising sun to rising sun, so long as the Wheel of Time turns."

Agelmar bowed, his white topknot stirring in the breeze. "Fal Dara offers bread and salt and welcome. Welcome is the Amyrlin Seat to Fal Dara, for here is the watch kept, here is the Pact maintained. Welcome."

The tall woman drew back the curtain of the palanquin, and the Amyrlin Seat stepped out. Dark-haired, ageless as all Aes Sedai were ageless, she ran her eyes over the assembled watchers as she straightened. When her gaze caught me I felt like I was pinned to a wall, examined by something down to my soul, and then her gazed passed and I was fine again. Light, that wasn't some kind of Weave, or I would have felt it. What was that? That is the woman Moiraine wants me to meet, to be stuck in a room with those eyes that can see my soul! I am not ready.

 

[Yzakschwarz]

And thanks for the compliment! Do you mean Falme, when you say Talks?? If so, then yeah Falme will be a doozy

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Yes I mean the city it's was just the auto correct anyway what do you mean by doozy? Not much detail if you will change drastically just a idea

 

[Adullahan]

Yes I mean the city it's was just the auto correct anyway what do you mean by doozy? Not much detail if you will change drastically just a idea

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Certain canon events will happen, regardless of changes. I'll leave you to guess what, but the Seanchan will give Rand reason to come to Falme in an upset mood. They won't be pleased by the outcome.

 

[Yzakschwarz]

Certain canon events will happen, regardless of changes. I'll leave you to guess what, but the Seanchan will give Rand reason to come to Falme in an upset mood. They won't be pleased by the outcome.

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Good good always hated those mothefuckers

 

[Haruchai]

Amyrlin Seat Part 1

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Sigh. Unfortunately reached the end of what we have for this fic so far. It feels both nostalgic and strange. It has been over a decade now since I last reread the novels. I used to reread the entire thing at least once a year, but I have little patience to read the entire thing again anytime soon. Once I discovered the concept of fan fictions back in 2009 I have been reading less and less original novels it seems.

But I digress, as I said its been a while so I cannot clearly see which events are the same as the original and which are new. However, some things are clearly new like the Moraine love angle and reignited bond with Egwene both things I genuinely approve of. I never liked how Egwene and Rand fell out of love and even distrusted each other later on in the source material. It gladdens my heart to see things proceed as the should have been. Much akin to how fan fics love shipping Hermione and Harry a lot in mostly the same reason I believe. People really adore the concept of childhood friends evolving into true love. I think it gives us comfort knowing that such pure feelings as friendship can evolve into something greater and gives us hope for the future. This aspect of the story as you may surmise is something I really enjoyed, the artificial forced bond cliche not too much, but I can appreciate its value as a narrative tool. At least it is far more subtle and organic compared to the blunt hammer that was the Waifu Catalogue capture mechanic in your other fic. In fact, this fic feels like a more nuanced yet realistic version of said capture mechanic if using in-world options to do something similar.

What I really struggle to see the necessity of is yet again using the dragon shapeshifting thing like the other fic. I fear it does not add much value as much as it should. Not a bad idea exactly, but I feel somewhat superfluous and does not flow as well as the others. The same is true for the dragon spirit itself. Basically these two changes break immersion and stand out as distinctly out of universe in style compared to say the dragon bond/oath rod which fits seemlessly with the original story's style of doing things.

Other than those minor gripes the story is excellent! One of the few fan fictions I'm genuinely excited to read more. I know this is an extraordinarily ambitious undertaking and I'm reading this knowing fully well that there is a distinct chance that it will run out of steam and possibly remain unfinished forever, but I will be happy with whatever scraps you are willing to offer up to your dear readers. I will eagerly wait for further updates!

 

[Adullahan]

*snip*

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First of all, thank you for the wonderful comment, it really made my day. I actually started writing this half a year ago, before my Waifu Catalog story, and have been posting it on AO3. So if you want to read ahead, feel free!

My waifu Catalog fic is definitely me dipping my toes into the smut waters I deliberately avoided with this work, and a reworking of an early version of this story that started with Rand collapsing when he sees the Myrddraal on the road into Emond's Field. They're honestly probably too similar but *shrugs* I write what my muse feels like, and it's obsessed with Wheel of Time and giving Rand harems.

Its interesting you posit the bonding as more organic/in-universe, because this story actually started as an idea about what if the Creator intervened in the insertion of a Catalog user, adapting it for His own ends, and the idea that (MAJOR SPOILERS ABOUT WORLD BUILDING AND THE STEALTH CROSSOVER THAT I MAY NEVER END UP REACHING) Eru Ilúvatar is the Creator and the Dark One is Morgoth returned from the outer dark, who Sundered the Song aka destroyed Arda, and from its remains the Creator/Eru built the Wheel of Time, to imprison Dark One/Morgoth.

The Dragon Spirit is meant to feel alien and strange, not break immersion so As far as the shape-shifting stuff, I have no excuse except that I think it's funny to make Rand into a bishounen prince, and cool to turn into a dragon. Plus I get to make him be all indignant when people claim he's a Trolloc.

Thanks again for your comment! I'll be posting another chapter tomorrow and Wednesday. I was thinking I'd post like three or four chapters a week, until QQ is caught up.

 

[Haruchai]

Nom nom.

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Oh wow. I didn't catch that reference with the song of creation bits. Tsk tsk.

And Rand is ALREADY a pretty boy harem bastard prince (even if mostly unknown to the general public) in the original material! In fact, I think he is the only harem bastard I've read from a non-anime/anime adjacent source. I do agree that dragons be cool even if they don't makes sense, but who cares, right?

 

[Adullahan]

And Rand is ALREADY a pretty boy harem bastard prince (even if mostly unknown to the general public) in the original material! In fact, I think he is the only harem bastard I've read from a non-anime/anime adjacent source. I do agree that dragons be cool even if they don't makes sense, but who cares, right?

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I like the idea of early Rand being forced into a harem, more specifically. Give him some happiness and joy in his life. Plus the eventual goal is for all of the wives to be chinnar'veren in their own right, so there can be a bunch of cool dragons and dragon ladies. it's all a part of the plan.

 

[Haruchai]

Quote be here.

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I do agree than Rand had to really work hard to get his OG harem and he suffered a lot. Gujab with that!

Rand and WOT in general has always had a special place in my heart. I initially started reading the series when I was in a really bad place. I think I was a slightly suicidal complete hikki NEET at that point in my life. Fortunately I saw the light and found shelter in the palm of the creator. So I am always grateful for the joy and salvation it brought me all that time ago.

At the same time, I find it hard to reread since it reminds me of the lowest point in my life making it a bittersweet experience. Its only now that I actually even read fan fics for it and I just found your story by randomly looking for QQ stuff today!

I think it might be time to follow through Rand and co's journey once more. Well maybe sometime this year for sure...

 

[Adullahan]

Contains excerpts from The Great Hunt by Robert Jordan

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Amadaine 2, 998 NE (June 9th)

An hour after the ceremony to greet the Amyrlin Seat was finished, Moiraine was waiting with Rand in her rooms in the women's apartments adjusting the shawl—embroidered with curling ivy and grapevines—on her shoulders and studied the effect in the tall frame mirror standing in a corner. Her large, dark eyes could appear as sharp as a hawk's when she was angry. They seemed to pierce the silvered glass, now. It was only happenstance that she had had the shawl in her saddlebags when she came to Fal Dara.

With the blazing white Flame of Tar Valon centered on the wearer's back and long fringe colored to show her Ajah—Moiraine's was as blue as a morning sky—the shawls were seldom worn outside Tar Valon, and even there usually only inside the White Tower. Little in Tar Valon besides a meeting of the Hall of the Tower called for the formality of the shawls, and beyond the Shining Walls a sight of the Flame would send too many people running, to hide or perhaps to fetch the Children of the Light.

A Whitecloak's arrow was as fatal to an Aes Sedai as to anyone else, and the Children were too wily to let an Aes Sedai see the bowman before the arrow struck, while she still might do something about it. Moiraine had certainly never expected to wear the shawl in Fal Dara. But for an audience with the Amyrlin, there were proprieties to observe.

She was slender and not at all tall, much to her dismay, and smooth-cheeked Aes Sedai agelessness often made her appear younger than she was, but Moiraine had a commanding grace and calm presence that could dominate any gathering. A manner ingrained growing up in the Royal Palace of Cairhien had been heightened, not submerged, by still more years as an Aes Sedai. She knew she might need every bit of it today, with what she had to tell Siuan. Yet much of the calm was on the surface, today. There must be trouble, or she would not have come herself, she thought for at least the tenth time. But beyond that lay a thousand questions more. What trouble, and who did she choose to accompany her? Why here? Why now? I cannot allow it to go wrong now, after everything.

The Great Serpent ring on her right hand caught the light dully as she touched the delicate golden chain that lay on her forehead laced in the crown of her braid of dark hair, which hung down her back in the style of a married woman of the Two Rivers. It was an announcement to Rand, that she took him seriously, that she went into this meeting not only as an Aes Sedai with her Warder, but a wife with her husband. She would defend him, if need be. Even from the Amyrlin Seat.

A small, clear blue stone dangled at the end of the chain, her kesiera. Many in the White Tower knew of the tricks she could do using that stone as a focus. It was only a polished bit of blue crystal, just something a young girl had used in her first learning, with no one to guide her. That girl had remembered tales of angreal and even more powerful sa'angreal—those fabled remnants of the Age of Legends that allowed Aes Sedai to channel more of the One Power than any could safely handle unaided—remembered and thought some such focus was required to channel at all. Her sisters in the White Tower knew a few of her tricks, and suspected others, including some that did not exist, some that had shocked her when she learned of them. The things she did with the stone were simple and small, if occasionally useful; the kind a child would imagine. But if the wrong women had accompanied the Amyrlin, the crystal might put them off balance, because of the tales.

Rand was antsy, nervousness flaring and falling, occasionally glancing at her and shaking his head. "It will be alright, Rand. You have all the tools we need to escape, quickly and secretly. You do not need to worry so much," she tried to calm him once again, with little luck. For much of the time she had spent getting ready, Rand had gotten progressively more anxious as the minutes ticked by. He may be different now, but he was still stubborn. No logic, no appeals, no distractions seemed to work. And it would have been the same, she was sure, even without the mess about the secret weave. She sighed irritably to herself, before she let the cool calm of an Aes Sedai fill her once more. She had been prideful, foolish, riding high on Rand's acceptance that she bet too far. That he still talked with her, listened to her at all, was simply a sign of his good nature, and that things had not broken irrevocably. But she would mend them, and sooner than later. It would do no good to have the Dragon Reborn running around without a woman to thoroughly ground him, and the more she thought about it, the more six women sounded like the right amount to keep him busy enough.

A rapid, insistent knocking came at the chamber door. No Shienaran would knock that way, not at anyone's door, but least of all hers. She remained looking into the mirror until her eyes stared back serenely, all thought hidden in their dark depths. Rand had broken out of his spiral, snapping into the icy cold focus of ko'di. He stood straighter, held himself like a warrior. She took a moment to admire his looks—a scarlet and gold jacket with black dragons on the sleeves and well-fit black trousers, his tangle of red hair and his stormy eyes—and she checked the soft leather pouch hanging at her belt. Whatever troubles brought her out of Tar Valon, she will forget them when I lay this trouble before her, let alone when she learns of Rand firsthand. A second thumping, even more vigorous than the first, sounded before she crossed the room and opened the door with a calm smile for the two women who had come for her, Rand approaching casually behind her, his stride dangerous and eyes an icy gray.

She recognized them both. Dark-haired Anaiya in her blue-fringed shawl, and fair-haired Liandrin in her red. Blast Siuan for sending a Red near Rand. Liandrin, not only young-seeming but young and pretty, with a doll's face and a small, petulant mouth, had her hand raised to pound again. Her dark brows and darker eyes were a sharp contrast to the multitude of pale honey braids brushing her shoulders, but the combination was not uncommon in Tarabon. Both women were taller than Moiraine, though Liandrin by less than a hand.

Anaiya's blunt face broke into a smile as soon as Moiraine opened the door. That smile gave her the only beauty she would have, but it was enough; almost everyone felt comforted, safe and special, when Anaiya smiled at them. It faltered a moment at seeing Rand, but resumed its beaming. "The Light shine on you Moiraine. It's good to see you again. Are you well? It has been so long."

"My heart is lighter for your presence, Anaiya." That was certainly true; it was good to know she had at least one friend among the Aes Sedai who had come to Fal Dara. "The Light illumine you." Rand finally stepped to her right side, seeming to give the Aes Sedai only a brief glance, but Moiraine could feel the turmoil that briefly surged at him eyeing the red shawl. Just about the worst choice they could have sent.

Liandrin's mouth tightened, and she gave her shawl a twitch. "The Amyrlin Seat, she requires your presence, sister. Your presence alone." Her voice was petulant, too, and cold-edged. Not for Moiraine's sake, or not solely; Liandrin always sounded dissatisfied with something. Frowning, she tried to look over Moiraine's shoulder into the room. "This chamber, it is warded. We cannot enter. Why do you ward against your sisters?"

"My new Warder Rand will come with me. The Amyrlin Seat will wish to see him. And it is against all," Moiraine replied smoothly. "Many of the serving women are curious about Aes Sedai, and I do not want them pawing through my rooms when I am not here. There was no need to make a distinction until now." She pulled the door shut behind her, leaving all four of them in the corridor. "Shall we go? We must not keep the Amyrlin waiting."

Anaiya's voice was sad. "I had not heard the al'Lan Mandoragon had passed. I am sorry, Moiraine, losing a Warder is no simple thing to handle, especially alone without your sisters."

Moiraine couldn't help her laugh, putting a soft hand on the woman's shoulders. "Lan is not dead, Anaiya. There is no need to mourn, he is still my Warder. I recently took Rand as another. He… caught my eye." She snaked an arm around Rands, smiling coyly at her sister. It startled Anaiya, surprise flashing across her face before the smile returned.

"You were always trouble, Moiraine. Tell me everything! He cuts a handsome figure, looks half a Gaidin already, and his clothing is striking. Lan must be training him, yes? What made you choose him?"

Moiraine started down the hallway with Anaiya chatting at her side, as she illuminated Rand's good points. Liandrin stood for a moment staring at Rand then at the door as if wondering what Moiraine was hiding, but hurried to join the others. She tried to bracket Moiraine, but Rand would not let her, the good young man that he was. He ignored her very existence, forcing her to strut in front as a guard, bitterly scowling. It was incalculably rude, but he was a Warder and Liandrin could not complain, as much as she'd like. Anaiya merely walked, keeping her company. Their slippered footsteps fell softly on thick-woven carpets with simple patterns.

Liveried women curtsied deeply as they passed, many more deeply than they would have for the Lord of Fal Dara himself. Aes Sedai, three together, and the Amyrlin Seat herself in the keep; it was more honor than any woman of the keep had ever expected in her lifetime. A few women of noble Houses were out in the halls, and they curtsied, too, which they most certainly would not have done for Lord Agelmar. Moiraine and Anaiya smiled and bowed their heads to acknowledge each reverence, from servant or noble equally. Liandrin ignored them all.

There were only women here, of course. No men besides Rand stood in the hallways. No Shienaran male above the age of ten would enter the women's rooms without permission or invitation, although a few small boys ran and played in the halls here. They knelt on one knee, awkwardly, when their sisters dropped deep curtsies. Now and then, Anaiya smiled and ruffled a small head as she passed.

"This time, Moiraine," Anaiya said, "you have been gone from Tar Valon too long. Much too long. Tar Valon misses you. Your sisters miss you. And we need you in the White Tower. Once they hear of your new Warder, you may not have a choice," she warned. Moiraine knew that. What she had done was unheard of. Blues did not bond second Warders. It simply wasn't done and she would have to pay for it, somehow.

"Some of us must work in the world," Moiraine said gently, though she thought she may very well never return to the Tower, when all was revealed. "I will leave the Hall of the Tower to you, Anaiya. Yet in Tar Valon, you hear more of what occurs in the world than I. Too often I outrun what happens where I was yesterday. What news have you?"

"Three more false Dragons." Liandrin bit the words off. "In Saldaea, Murandy, and Tear false Dragons ravage the land. The while, you Blues smile and talk of nothing, and try to hold on to the past." Anaiya raised an eyebrow, and Liandrin snapped her mouth shut with a sharp sniff.

"Three," Moiraine mused softly. For an instant, her eyes gleamed, but she masked it quickly. "Three in the last two years, and now three more at once." The Pattern must throw them up while Rand lies unannounced. Soon. But can the world wait that long?

"As the others were, these will be dealt with also. This male vermin and any ragtag rabble who follow their banners." Rand quaked in the bond, fear and anger, before settling back to cold calm.

Moiraine was almost amused by the certainty in Liandrin's voice. Almost. She was all too aware of the realities, too aware of the possibilities. Not here, not now. "Have a few months been enough for you to forget, sister? The last false Dragon all but tore Ghealdan apart before his army, ragtag rabble or not, was defeated. Yes, Logain is in Tar Valon by now, gentled and safe, I suppose, but some of our sisters died to overpower him. Even one sister dead is more loss than we can bear, but Ghealdan's losses were much worse. The two before Logain could not channel, yet even so the people of Kandor and Arad Doman remember them well. Villages burned and men dead in battle. How easily can the world deal with three at one time? How many will flock to their banners? There has never been a shortage of followers for any man claiming to be the Dragon Reborn. How great will the wars be this time?"

"It isn't so grim as that," Anaiya said. "As far as we know, only the one in Saldaea can channel. He has not had time to attract many followers, and sisters should already be there to deal with him. The Tairens are harrying their false Dragon and his followers through Haddon Mirk, while the fellow in Murandy is already in chains." She gave a short, wondering laugh. "To think the Murandians, of all people, would deal with theirs so quickly. Ask, and they do not even call themselves Murandians, but Lugarders, or Inishlinni, or this or that lord's or lady's man. Yet for fear one of their neighbors would take the excuse to invade, the Murandians leaped on their false Dragon almost as soon as he opened his mouth to proclaim himself."

"Still," Moiraine said, "three at the same time cannot be ignored. Has any sister been able to do a Foretelling?" It was a slight chance—few Aes Sedai had manifested any part of that Talent, even the smallest part, in centuries—so she was not surprised when Anaiya shook her head. Not surprised, but a little relieved.

They reached a juncture of hallways at the same time as the Lady Amalisa. She dropped a full curtsy, bowing deep and spreading her pale green skirts wide. "Honor to Tar Valon," she murmured. "Honor to Aes Sedai."

The sister of the Lord of Fal Dara required more than a nod of the head. Moiraine took Amalisa's hands and drew her to her feet. "You honor us, Amalisa. Rise, sister."

Amalisa straightened gracefully, with a flush on her face. She had never as much as been to Tar Valon, and to be called sister by an Aes Sedai was heady even for someone of her rank. Short and of middle years, she had a dark, mature beauty, and the color in her cheeks set it off. "You honor me too greatly, Moiraine Sedai."

Moiraine smiled. "How long have we known each other, Amalisa? Must I now call you my Lady Amalisa, as if we had never sat over tea together?"

"Of course not." Amalisa smiled back. The strength evident in her brother's face was in hers, too, and no less for the softer line of cheek and jaw. There were those who said that as hard and renowned a fighter as Agelmar was, he was no better than an even match for his sister. "But with the Amyrlin Seat here…. When King Easar visits Fal Dara, in private I call him Magami, Little Uncle, as I did when I was a child and he gave me rides on his shoulder, but in public it must be different."

Anaiya tsked. "Sometimes formality is necessary, but men often make more of it than they must. Please, call me Anaiya, and I will call you Amalisa, if I may."

"I am called Liandrin, Lady Amalisa and I would welcome the chance to learn more of your land." She wore a smile, open and almost girlish, and her voice was friendly.

Moiraine schooled her face to stillness as Amalisa extended an invitation to join her and her ladies in her private garden, and Liandrin accepted warmly. Liandrin made few friends, and none outside the Red Ajah. Certainly never outside the Aes Sedai. She would sooner make friends with a man, or a Trolloc. Moiraine was not sure Liandrin saw much difference between men and Trollocs. She was not sure any of the Red Ajah did.

Anaiya explained that just now they must attend the Amyrlin Seat. "Of course," Amalisa said. "The Light illumine her, and the Creator shelter her. But later, then." She stood straight and bowed her head as they left her.

Moiraine studied Liandrin as they walked, never looking at her directly. The honey-haired Aes Sedai was staring straight ahead, rosebud lips pursed thoughtfully. She appeared to have forgotten Moiraine and Anaiya both. What is she up to?

Anaiya seemed not to have noticed anything out of the ordinary, but then she always managed to accept people both as they were and as they wanted to be. It constantly amazed Moiraine that Anaiya dealt as well as she did in the White Tower, but those who were devious always seemed to take her openness and honesty, her acceptance of everyone, as cunning devices. They were always caught completely off balance when she turned out to mean what she said and say what she meant. Too, she had a way of seeing to the heart of things. And of accepting what she saw. Now she blithely resumed speaking of the news.

"The word from Andor is both good and bad. The street riots in Caemlyn died down with the coming of spring, but there is still talk, too much talk, blaming the Queen, and Tar Valon as well, for the long winter. Morgase holds her throne less securely than she did last year, but she holds it still, and will so long as Gareth Bryne is Captain-General of the Queen's Guards. And the Lady Elayne, the Daughter-Heir, and her brother, the Lord Gawyn, have come safely to Tar Valon for their training. There was some fear in the White Tower that the custom would be broken."

"Not while Morgase has breath in her body," Moiraine said.

Liandrin gave a little start, as if she had just awakened. "Pray that she continues to have breath. The Daughter-Heir's party was followed to the River Erinin by the Children of the Light. To the very bridges to Tar Valon. More still camp outside Caemlyn, for the chance of mischief, and inside Caemlyn still are those who listen."

"Perhaps it is time Morgase learned a little caution," Anaiya sighed. "The world is becoming more dangerous every day, even for a queen. Perhaps especially for a queen. She was ever headstrong. I remember when she came to Tar Valon as a girl. She did not have the ability to become a full sister, and it rankled in her. Sometimes I think she pushes her daughter because of that, whatever the girl chooses."

Moiraine sniffed disdainfully. "Elayne was born with the spark in her; it was not a matter of choosing. Morgase would not risk letting the girl die from lack of training if all the Whitecloaks in Amadicia were camped outside Caemlyn. She would command Gareth Byrne and the Queen's Guards to cut a path through them to Tar Valon, and Gareth Byrne would do it if he had to do it alone." But she still must keep the full extent of the girl's potential secret. Would the people of Andor knowingly accept Elayne on the Lion Throne after Morgase if they knew? Not just a queen trained in Tar Valon according to custom, but a full Aes Sedai? In all of recorded history there had been only a handful of queens with the right to be called Aes Sedai, and the few who let it be known had all lived to regret it. She felt a touch of sadness. But too much was afoot to spare aid, or even worry, for one land and one throne. "What else, Anaiya?"

"You must know that the Great Hunt of the Horn has been called in Illian, the first time in four hundred years. The Illianers say the Last Battle is coming"—Anaiya gave a little shiver, as well she might, but went on without a pause—"and the Horn of Valere must be found before the final battle against the Shadow. Men from every land are already gathering, all eager to be part of the legend, eager to find the Horn. Murandy and Altara are on their toes, of course, thinking it's all a mask for a move against one of them. That is probably why the Murandians caught their false Dragon so quickly. In any case, there will be a new lot of stories for the bards and gleemen to add to the cycle. The Light send it is only new stories."

"Perhaps not the stories they expect," Moiraine said. Liandrin looked at her sharply, and Moiraine kept her face still.

"I suppose not," Anaiya said placidly. "The stories they least expect will be exactly the ones they will add to the cycle. Beyond that, I have only rumor to offer. The Sea Folk are agitated, their ships flying from port to port with barely a pause. Sisters from the islands say the Coramoor, their Chosen One, is coming, but they won't say more. You know how close-mouthed the Atha'an Miere are with outsiders about the Coramoor, and in this our sisters seem to think more as Sea Folk than Aes Sedai. The Aiel appear to be stirring, too, but no one knows why. No one ever knows with the Aiel. At least there is no evidence they mean to cross the Spine of the World again, thank the Light." She sighed and shook her head. "What I would not give for even one sister from among the Aiel. Just one. We know too little of them."

Moiraine laughed. "Sometimes I think you belong in the Brown Ajah, Anaiya."

"Almoth Plain," Liandrin said, and looked surprised that she had spoken.

"Now that truly is rumor, sister," Anaiya said. "A few whispers heard as we were leaving Tar Valon. There may be fighting on Almoth Plain, and perhaps Toman Head, as well. I say, may be. The whispers were faint. Rumors of rumors. We left before we could hear more." Rand's emotions shook the stillness of the bond once more at this. Something to check on.

"It would have to be Tarabon and Arad Doman," Moiraine said, and shook her head. "They have squabbled over Almoth Plain for nearly three hundred years, but it has never come to open blows." She looked at Liandrin; Aes Sedai were supposed to throw off all their old loyalties to lands and rulers, but few did so completely. It was hard not to care for the land of your birth. "Why would they now—?"

"Enough of idle talk," the honey-haired woman broke in angrily. "For you, Moiraine, the Amyrlin waits." She took three quick strides ahead of the others and threw open one of a pair of tall doors. "For you, the Amyrlin will have no idle talk."

Unconsciously touching the pouch at her waist, Moiraine went past Liandrin through the doorway, with a nod as if the other woman were holding the door for her. She did not even smile at the white flash of anger on Liandrin's face. What is the wretched girl up to?

Brightly colored carpets covered the anteroom floor in layers, and the room was pleasantly furnished with chairs and cushioned benches and small tables, the wood simply worked or just polished. Brocaded curtains sided the tall arrowslits to make them seem more like windows. No fires burned in the fireplaces; the day was warm, and the Shienaran chill would not come until nightfall.

Fewer than half a dozen of the Aes Sedai who had accompanied the Amyrlin were there. Verin Mathwin and Serafelle, of the Brown Ajah, did not look up at Moiraine's entrance. Serafelle was intently reading an old book with a worn, faded leather cover, handling its tattered pages carefully, while plump Verin, sitting cross-legged beneath an arrowslit, held a small blossom up to the light and made notes and sketches in a precise hand in a book balanced on her knee. She had an open inkpot on the floor beside her, and a small pile of flowers on her lap. The Brown sisters concerned themselves with little besides seeking knowledge. Moiraine sometimes wondered if they were really aware of what was going on in the world, or even immediately around them.

The three other women already in the room turned, but they made no effort to approach Moiraine, only looked at her. One, a slender woman of the Yellow Ajah, she did not know; she spent too little time in Tar Valon to know all the Aes Sedai, although their numbers were no longer very great. She was acquainted with the two remaining, however. Carlinya was as pale of skin and cold of manner as the white fringe on her shawl, the exact opposite in every way of dark, fiery Alanna Mosvani, of the Green, but they both stood and stared at her without speaking, without expression. Alanna sharply snugged her shawl around her, but Carlinya made no move at all. The slender Yellow sister turned away with an air of regret. Alanna's eyes lingered on Rand. It made Moiraine pull him closer.

"The Light illumine you all, sisters," Moiraine said. No one answered. She was not sure Serafelle or Verin had even heard. Where are the others? There was no need for them all to be there—most would be resting in their rooms, freshing from the journey—but she was on edge now, all the questions she could not ask running through her head. None of it showed on her face.

The inner door opened, and Leane appeared, without her gilt-flamed staff. The Keeper of the Chronicles was as tall as most men, willowy and graceful, still beautiful, with coppery skin and short, dark hair. She wore a blue stole, a hand wide, instead of a shawl, for she sat in the Hall of the Tower, though as Keeper, not to represent her Ajah.

"There you are," she said briskly to Moiraine, and gestured to the door behind her. "Come, sister. The Amyrlin Seat is waiting.." She spoke naturally in a clipped, quick way that never changed, whether she was angry or joyful or excited. She seemed to ignore Rand, though her eyes flashed to him briefly.

"He will come," Moiraine said in a low whisper, "He is my new Warder." Leane stared a long moment, before slowly nodding.

As Moiraine followed Leane in, Rand behind her, she wondered what emotion the Keeper was feeling now. Leane pulled the door behind them; it banged shut with something of the sound of a cell door closing.

 

[Haruchai]

Amyrlin Seat Part 2

Click to shrink...

Sigh. I'm torn whether to patiently read it here like a good boy or just read the entire thing in AO3. LOL

Anyway, this chapter seems to closely match what I can barely remember from the original source with good old Leane and Siuan still in power and strutting around not knowing many in her entourage being of the Black Ajah. Its nice that I can remember the details because I only know for sure that Liandrin and Verin are of the Black but can't say for sure about the others.

 

[Adullahan]

Contains excerpts from The Great Hunt by Robert Jordan

---

Amadaine 2, 998 NE (June 9th)

The Amyrlin Seat herself sat behind a broad table in the middle of the carpet, and on the table rested a flattened cube of gold, the size of a travel chest and ornately worked with silver. The table was heavily built with stout legs, but it seemed to squat under a weight two strong men would have had trouble lifting.

At the sight of the golden cube Moiraine had difficulty keeping her face unruffled. The last she had seen of it, it had been safely locked in Agelmar's strongroom. On learning of the Amyrlin Seat's arrival she had meant to tell her of it herself. That it was already in the Amyrlin's possession was a trifle, but a worrisome trifle. Events could be outpacing her.

She swept a deep curtsy and said formally, "As you called me, Mother, so have I come." The Amyrlin extended her hand, and Moiraine kissed her Great Serpent ring, no different from that of any other Aes Sedai. Rising, she made her tone more conversational, but not too much so. She was aware of the Keeper standing behind her, beside the door. "I hope you had a pleasant journey, Mother."

Rand, meanwhile, dropped to one knee, left hand on his sword hilt, right fist pressed to the patterned rug, and bowed his head. "As you have summoned me, Mother, so have I come. I stand ready."

The Amyrlin had been born in Tear, of a simple fisherman's family, not a noble House, and her name was Siuan Sanche, though very few had used that name, or even thought of it, in the ten years since she had been raised from the Hall of the Tower. She was the Amyrlin Seat; that was the whole of it. The broad stole on her shoulders was striped in the colors of the seven Ajahs; the Amyrlin was of all Ajahs and of none. She was only of medium height, and handsome rather than beautiful, but her face held a strength that had been there before her elevation, the strength of the girl who had survived the streets of the Maule, Tear's port district, and her clear blue gaze had made kings and queens, and even the Captain Commander of the Children of the Light, drop their eyes. Her own eyes were strained, now, and there was a new tightness to her mouth.

The Amyrlin stared at Rand, quirking an eyebrow in humor but there was a coldness in her voice. "And who is this young man supposed to be, Daughter?"

"My second Warder, Rand al'Thor"—Leane startled and the Amyrlin's eyes flashed—"I brought him here because you must see him to believe it. He is chinnar'veren, a sign Tarmon Gai'dan is getting closer, alongside the Horn." Rand stood, silent and calm in ko'di as the Amyrlin flayed him with her gaze.

What the Amyrlin said next seemed a non-sequitur. "We called the winds to speed our vessels up the Erinin, Daughter, and even turned the currents to our aid." The Amyrlin's voice was deep, and sad. "I have seen the flooding we caused in villages along the river, and the Light only knows what we have done to the weather. We will not have endeared ourselves by the damage we've done and the crops we may have ruined. All to reach here as quickly as possible." Her eyes strayed to the ornate golden cube, and she half lifted a hand as if to touch it, but when she spoke it was to say, "Elaida is in Tar Valon, Daughter. She came with Elayne and Gawyn."

Moiraine was conscious of Leane standing to one side, quiet as always in the presence of the Amyrlin. But watching, and listening. "I am surprised, Mother," she said carefully. "This is no time for Morgase to be without Aes Sedai counsel." Morgase was one of the few rulers to openly admit to an Aes Sedai councilor; almost all had one, but few admitted it.

"Elaida insisted, Daughter, and queen or not, I doubt Morgase is a match for Elaida in a contest of wills. In any case, perhaps this time she did not wish to be. Elayne has potential. More than I have ever seen before. Already she shows progress. The Red sisters are swollen up like puff-fish with it. I don't think the girl leans to their way of thinking, but she is young, and there is no telling. Even if they don't manage to bend her, it will make little difference. Elayne could well be the most powerful Aes Sedai in a thousand years, and it is the Red Ajah who found her. They have gained much status in the Hall from the girl."

"I have two young women with me in Fal Dara, Mother," Moiraine said. "Both from the Two Rivers, where the blood of Manetheren still runs strong, though they do not even remember there was once a land called Manetheren. The old blood sings, Mother, and it sings loudly in the Two Rivers. Egwene, a village girl, is at least as strong as Elayne. I have seen the Daughter-Heir, and I know. As for the other, Nynaeve was the Wisdom in their village, yet she is little more than a girl herself. It says something of her that the women of her village chose her Wisdom at her age. Once she gains conscious control of what she now does without knowing, she will be as strong as any in Tar Valon. With training, she will shine like a bonfire beside the candles of Elayne and Egwene. And there is no chance these two will choose the Red. They are amused by men, exasperated by them, but they do like them, love them even. They will easily counter whatever influence the Red Ajah gains in the White Tower from finding Elayne."

The Amyrlin nodded as if it were all of no consequence. Moiraine's eyebrows lifted in surprise before she caught herself and smoothed her features. Those were the two main concerns in the Hall of the Tower, that fewer girls who could be trained to channel the One Power were found every year, or so it seemed, and that fewer of real power were found. Worse than the fear in those who blamed Aes Sedai for the Breaking of the World, worse than the hatred from the Children of the Light, worse even than the workings of Darkfriends, were the sheer dwindling of numbers and the lessening of abilities. The corridors of the White Tower were sparsely populated where once they had been crowded, and what could once be done easily with the One Power could now be done only with difficulty, or not at all.

"Elaida had another reason for coming to Tar Valon, Daughter. She sent the same message by six different pigeons to make sure I received it—and to whom else in Tar Valon she sent pigeons, I can only guess—then came herself. She told the Hall of the Tower that you are meddling with a young man who is ta'veren, and dangerous. He was in Caemlyn, she said, but when she found the inn where he had been staying, she discovered you had spirited him away." She stared directly at Rand. He was still as ice and just as cold in the bond. Good, keep your temper. I know you can do it.

"The people at that inn served us well and faithfully, Mother. If she harmed any of them...." Moiraine could not keep the sharpness out of her voice, and she heard Leane shift. One did not speak to the Amyrlin Seat in that tone; not even a king on his throne did.

"You should know, Daughter," the Amyrlin said dryly, "that Elaida harms no one except those she considers dangerous. Darkfriends, or those poor fool men who try to channel the One Power. Or one who threatens Tar Valon. Everyone else who isn't Aes Sedai might as well be pieces on a stones board as far as she is concerned. Luckily for him, the innkeeper, one Master Gill as I remember, apparently thinks much of Aes Sedai, and so answered her questions to her satisfaction. Elaida actually spoke well of him. But she spoke more of the young man you took away with you. More dangerous than any man since Artur Hawkwing, she said. She has the Foretelling sometimes, you know, and her words carried weight with the Hall."

For Rand's sake, Moiraine made her voice as meek as she could. That was not very meek, but it was the best she could do. "I have three young men with me, Mother, but none of them is a king, and I doubt very much if any of them even dreams of uniting the world under one ruler. No one has dreamed Artur Hawkwing's dream since the War of the Hundred Years." It was more of an arduous task than a dream, for Rand, one he will not take great delight in doing.

"Yes Daughter, two village youths and a young lord, Lord Agelmar told me. And the one who stands before me is ta'veren. Is he a village youth? He looks much more like the lord. Let us see him change his shape. I would see this sign of the Last Battle."

One moment Rand stood there, the next stood Lord Dragon, Rand in so'shan. His red hair fell to his shoulder blades in a wild mane with streaks of gold, golden antlers similar to a deer swept back from his temples, a dusting of scarlet and gold scales lined his jaw and surrounded his eyes, bringing out the blue in the blue-gray storm they always held. His teeth were sharp and serrated, his smile that of a lion, a predator that rules lazily atop its throne; his ears long and pointed and his fingers were scaled and clawed. He seemed more, in this form, there was an aura about him of authority, he held himself in the dangerous slouch of a true Gaidin rather than the amateurish imitation when he was simply just a man. Moiraine sighed with a smile, simply gazing upon her Warder. The Creator truly blessed me and I managed to sour it not even a month in, came the errant thought. Her mood curdled, but she still kept her eyes on him, waiting for the Amyrlin to speak.

"He is certainly beautiful. I can see why you decided to bond him, against all propriety and tradition, Daughter. Pretty as a rainbowseeker, but is he as deadly? What is it this Warder of yours can do? And how did this come to be?"

Moiraine took a deep breath. "At the Eye of the World, two recently released Forsaken attacked us.." That is all she gets out before Siuan raised a hand to stop her. Leane made no sound, but the Keeper's eyes grew wide at Moiraine words.

"Tell me every detail, Daughter. Every detail. You should have started with this," she said furiously.

So Moiraine told her tale, of seeking the Eye of the World, and the two Forsaken who also sought it, one defeated by the Green Man and the other by Rand. She let Rand tell that portion, not trusting her words to tell a whole-sounding truth, and if Leane or Siuan noticed it, they did not show it.

The Amyrlin looked Rand over for a long minute after they finished their tale, examining him closely, expression unreadable before her eyes strayed to the flattened cube again, dismissing Rand with a hand. He was annoyed but let go of the so'shan. Moiraine did not pout of course, nor was it noted by anyone in the room.

"Disturbing news, my daughter. Deeply disturbing, and complicates things immensely. It was put forward in the Hall that you should be sent into retreat for contemplation. This was proposed by one of the Sitters for the Green Ajah, with the other two nodding approval as she spoke," the Amyrlin finally said. "With this new… complication, your Warder, that threat looms even higher."

Leane made a sound of disgust, or perhaps frustration. She always kept in the background when the Amyrlin Seat spoke, but Moiraine could understand the small interruption this time. The Green Ajah had been allied with the Blue for a thousand years; since Artur Hawkwing's time, they had all but spoken with one voice. "I have no desire to hoe vegetables in some remote village, Mother." Nor will I, whatever the Hall of the Tower says. I would simply run away with my Lord Dragon.

"It was further proposed, also by the Greens, that your care during your retreat should be given to the Red Ajah. The Red Sitters tried to appear surprised, but they looked like fisher-birds who knew the catch was unguarded." The Amyrlin sniffed. "The Reds professed reluctance to take custody of one not of their Ajah, but said they would accede to the wishes of the Hall." This startled Rand, anxiety keening, and he made a small noise before the cold calm of the Oneness came back in drips and drabs.

Despite herself, Moiraine shivered. "That would be... most unpleasant, Mother." It would be worse than unpleasant, much worse; the Reds were never gentle. She put the thought of it firmly to one side, to deal with later. "Mother, I cannot understand this apparent alliance between the Greens and the Reds. Their beliefs, their attitudes toward men, their views of our very purposes as Aes Sedai, are completely opposite. A Red and a Green cannot even talk to each other without coming to shouts."

"Things change, Daughter. Four of the last five women raised Amyrlin have come from the Blue. Perhaps they feel that is too many, or that the Blue way of thinking no longer suffices in a world full of false Dragons. After a thousand years, many things change." The Amyrlin grimaced and spoke as if to herself, glancing at Rand. "Old walls weaken, and old barriers fall."

She shook herself, and her voice firmed. "There was yet another proposal, one that still smells like week-old fish on the jetty. Since Leane is of the Blue Ajah and I came from the Blue, it was put forward that sending two sisters of the Blue with me on this journey would give the Blue four representatives. Proposed in the Hall, to my face, as if they were discussing repairing the drains. Two of the White sisters stood against me, and two Green. The Yellow muttered among themselves, then would not speak for or against. One more saying nay, and your sisters Anaiya and Maigan would not be here. There was even some talk, open talk, that I should not leave the White Tower at all."

Moiraine felt a greater shock than on hearing that the Red Ajah wanted her in their hands. Whatever Ajah she came from, the Keeper of the Chronicles spoke only for the Amyrlin, and the Amyrlin spoke for all Aes Sedai and all Ajahs. That was the way it had always been, and no one had ever suggested otherwise, not in the darkest days of the Trolloc Wars, not when Artur Hawkwing's armies had penned every surviving Aes Sedai inside Tar Valon. Above all, the Amyrlin Seat was the Amyrlin Seat. Every Aes Sedai was pledged to obey her. No one could question what she did or where she chose to go. This proposal went against three thousand years of custom and law.

"Who would dare, Mother?"

The Amyrlin Seat's laugh was bitter. "Almost anyone, Daughter. Riots in Caemlyn. The Great Hunt called without any of us having a hint of it until the proclamation. False Dragons popping up like redbells after a rain. Nations fading, and more nobles playing at the Game of Houses than at any time since Artur Hawkwing cut all their plottings short. And worst of all, every one of us knows the Dark One is stirring again. Show me a sister who does not think the White Tower is losing its grip on events, and if she is not Brown Ajah, she is dead. Time may be growing short for all of us, Daughter. Sometimes I think I can almost feel it growing shorter. Your boy is proof of it all." She gave another bitter chuckle.

"As you say, Mother, things change. But there are still worse perils outside the Shining Walls than within."

For a long moment the Amyrlin met Moiraine's gaze, then nodded slowly. "Leave us, Leane, al'Thor. I would talk to my Daughter Moiraine alone."

There was only a moment's hesitation before Leane said, "As you wish, Mother." Moiraine could feel her surprise, and Rand's frisson of worry. The Amyrlin gave few audiences without the Keeper present, especially not to a sister she had reason to chastise.

The door opened and closed behind Leane and Rand. She would not say a word in the anteroom of what had occurred inside, but the news that Moiraine was alone with the Amyrlin would spread through the Aes Sedai in Fal Dara like wildfire through a dry forest, and the speculation would.

As soon as the door closed the Amyrlin stood, and Moiraine felt a momentary tingle in her skin as the other woman channeled the One Power. For an instant, the Amyrlin Seat seemed to her to be surrounded by a nimbus of bright light.

"I don't know that any of the others have your old trick," the Amyrlin Seat said, lightly touching the blue stone on Moiraine's forehead with one finger, "but most of us have some small tricks remembered from childhood. In any event, no one can hear what we say now."

Suddenly she threw her arms around Moiraine, a warm hug between old friends, old loves; Moiraine hugged back as warmly.

"You are the only one, Moiraine, with whom I can remember who I was. Even Leane always acts as if I had become the stole and the staff, even when we are alone, as if we'd never giggled together as novices. Sometimes I wish we still were novices, you and I. Still innocent enough to see it all as a gleeman's tale come true, still innocent enough to think we would find men—they would be princes, remember, handsome and strong and gentle?—who could bear to live with women of an Aes Sedai's power. Still innocent enough to dream of the happy ending to the gleeman's tale, of living our lives as other women do, just with more than they."

"We are Aes Sedai, Siuan. We have our duty. Even if you and I had not been born to channel, would you give it up for a home and a husband, even a prince? I do not believe it. That is a village goodwife's dream. Not even the Greens go so far." I have already been given my prince by the Creator, to train to my standards, and grow old with if we are lucky. But I cannot tell her that, she'd claim me lovesick.

Siuan mood whiplashed and she spoke in a rapid way that meant she was unusually angry. "First you don't bring him to Tar Valon like we planned, instead to the Borderlands, close to the Blight and Myrddraal and Trollocs. Then you apparently run off into the Blight, risking his life and the world, return with the Horn and spend the next month playing lover with a boy half your age, going off on picnics, making him clothes, and sharing his bed, like a besotted fool. Then you bond him, a second Warder as a Blue Sister. The Creator only knows how the Hall will take that news, may His hand shelter us. You have threatened nineteen years of our work with your ludicrous plays recently. What, exactly, has been going through your mind, Moiraine? Do you wish us Stilled?"

Stilled. The word seemed to quiver in the air, almost visible. When it was done to a man who could channel the Power, who must be stopped before madness drove him to the destruction of all around him, it was called gentling, but for Aes Sedai it was stilling. Stilled. No longer able to channel the flow of the One Power. Able to sense saidar, the female half of the True Source, but no longer having the ability to touch it. Remembering what was gone forever. So seldom had it been done that every novice was required to learn the name of each Aes Sedai since the Breaking of the World who had been stilled, and her crime, but none could think of it without a shudder. Women bore being stilled no better than men did being gentled.

Moiraine had known the risk from the first, and she knew it was necessary. That did not mean it was pleasant to dwell on. Her eyes narrowed, and only the gleam in them showed her anger, and her worry.

"Never. What we do, Siuan, is what must be done. We have both known it for nearly twenty years. The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, and you and I were chosen for this by the Pattern. We are a part of the Prophecies, and the Prophecies must be fulfilled. Must!"

"The Prophecies must be fulfilled. We were taught that they will be, and must be, and yet that fulfillment is treason to everything else we were taught. Some would say to everything we stand for." Rubbing her arms, the Amyrlin Seat walked over to peer through the narrow arrowslit at the garden below. She touched the curtains. "Here in the women's apartments they hang draperies to soften the rooms, and they plant beautiful gardens, but there is no part of this place not purpose-made for battle, death, and killing." She continued in the same pensive tone. "Only twice since the Breaking of the World has the Amyrlin Seat been stripped of stole and staff."

"Tetsuan, who betrayed Manetheren for jealousy of Ellisande's powers, and Bonwhin, who tried to use Artur Hawkwing for a puppet to control the world and so nearly destroyed Tar Valon."

The Amyrlin continued her study of the garden. "Both of the Red, and both replaced by Amyrlin from the Blue. The reason there has not been an Amyrlin chosen from the Red since Bonwhin, and the reason the Red Ajah will take any pretext to pull down an Amyrlin from the Blue, all wrapped neatly together. I have no wish to be the third to lose the stole and the staff, Moiraine. For you, of course, it would mean being stilled and put outside the Shining Walls." Or Rand would steal me away.

"Elaida, for one, would never let me off so easily." Moiraine watched her friend's back intently. Light, what has come over her? She has never been like this before. Where is her strength, her fire? "But it will not come to that, Siuan."

The other woman went on as if she had not spoken. "For me, it would be different. Even stilled, an Amyrlin who has been pulled down cannot be allowed to wander about loose; she might be seen as a martyr, become a rallying point for opposition. Tetsuan and Bonwhin were kept in the White Tower as servants. Scullery maids, who could be pointed to as cautions as to what can happen to the mightiest. No one can rally around a woman who must scrub floors and pots all day. Pity her, yes, but not rally to her."

Eyes blazing, Moiraine leaned her fists on the table. "Look at me, Siuan. Look at me! Are you saying that you want to give up, after all these years, after all we have done? Give up and let the world go? And all for fear of a switching for not getting the pots clean enough!" She put into it all the scorn she could summon, and was relieved when her friend spun to face her. The strength was still there, strained but still there. Those clear blue eyes were as hot with anger as her own.

"I remember which of the two of us squealed the loudest when we were switched as novices. You had lived a soft life in Cairhien, Moiraine. Not like working a fishing boat." Abruptly Siuan slapped the table with a loud crack. "No, I am not suggesting giving up, but neither do I propose to watch everything slide out of our hands while I can do nothing! Most of my troubles with the Hall stem from you. Even the Greens wonder why I haven't called you to the Tower and taught you a little discipline, and Light knows what they will say now! Half the sisters with me think you should be handed over to the Reds, and if that happens, you will wish you were a novice again, with nothing worse to look forward to than a switching. Light! If any of them remember we were friends as novices, I'd be there beside you."

Siuan shook her head, anger filling her voice. "We had a plan! A plan, Moiraine! Locate the boy and bring him to Tar Valon, where we could hide him, keep him safe and guide him. Since you left the Tower, I have had only two messages from you. Two! I feel as if I'm trying to sail the Fingers of the Dragon in the dark. One message to say you were entering the Two Rivers, going to this village, this Emond's Field. Soon, I thought. He's found, and she'll have him in hand soon. Then word from Caemlyn to say you were coming to Shienar, to Fal Dara, not Tar Valon. Fal Dara, with the Blight almost close enough to touch. Fal Dara, where Trollocs raid and Myrddraal ride as near every day as makes no difference. Nearly twenty years of planning and searching, and you toss all our plans practically in the Dark One's face. Are you mad?"

Now that she had stirred life in the other woman, Moiraine returned to outward calm, herself. Calm, but firm insistence, too. "The Pattern pays no heed to human plans, Siuan. With all our scheming, we forgot what we were dealing with. Ta'veren. Elaida is wrong. Artur Paendrag Tanreall was never this strongly ta'veren. The Wheel will weave the Pattern around this young man as it wills, whatever our plans."

The anger left Amyrlin's face, replaced by white-faced shock. "It sounds as if you are saying we might as well give up. Do you now suggest standing aside and watching the world burn?"

"Never stand aside. I cannot stand aside even if I wished to. I will be with him every step of the way, to teach him and guide him. A new prophecy was Foretold of the Dragon Reborn and I am in it like a fly in a spider's web. We have even less control than we thought. The winds of destiny are blowing, Siuan, and I must ride them where they take me."

The Amyrlin shivered as if she felt those winds icy on the back of her neck. "What have you gotten yourself into?"

" 'The Flame of All Colors shall Gift the Dragon Reborn a heart. Six are the women he will bind to his heart, Three lovers, two teachers, one enemy. And with them bound, He shall shake the world with His Might, for the nations of the world will submit or be brought to heel by His Majesty. And with His Power, He shall bring forth an Age of Light'," she intoned. "I am one of the six, a teacher. I was bound a month ago. Egwene al'Vere, the girl I was telling you about, is bound to him too."

Siuan looked a little sick, her voice incredulous. "You're bound with a man who can channel? And that poor girl too?"

Moiraine felt a little indignant. "He is a good man, for all his foolishness and quite easy on the eyes. Listens well to lessons, has a decent memory, and trains quite hard, almost as hard as a Gaidin. You should not think of him as some monster in the night, or a warlord brutalizing and terrorizing, or a man maddened by the Dark One, but as a young man who is finally willing to listen to me in the past month. We are blessed by the Creator to have him as he is now… If I am to be honest, if he was still as stubborn as he was on the journey north, I could have never taught him…" No need to tell her every little difficulty.

Siuan's eyes narrowed. "Teacher, huh? What exactly are you teaching him?"

Moiraine's lips thinned, and she straightened her dress. "I am teaching him to be prepared for his destiny. That is the truth. What that means, I'll let others decide. But it seems a fish and a bird still have things to teach each other." She paused. "There is one more thing you need to know regarding him, regarding the Dragon Reborn, Siuan. He is the chinnar'veren and the young man I bonded as Warder. A Dragon Shapeshifter; a beast from before the Age of Legends. I planned on announcing him as a Drake Shapeshifter, a fake Sharan lizard, before we left, but announcing it with you present as the Amyrlin works wonderfully. It would build a base of support for him when he returns and tie the Seat to him in the minds of the Shienarans." She was quite pleased with herself.

Siuan looked at her with a tired expression and laughed bitterly. "That young lord, a Dragon Shapeshifter. The most powerful male channeler will turn into the most powerful beast from before the Age of Legends and wreak destruction on a scale unheard of since the Trolloc Wars or even the War of the Shadow. All you can think of is how it will benefit him in his future conquest. You almost act as if he truly did bind you to his heart," she said with surprising venom.

Fury made itself known to Moiraine, and she spoke sternly. "And you act as if the world will not burn anyway regardless of whatever the Dragon Reborn does! The Dark One stirs, Trollocs gather, the Forsaken walk unchained for Light's sake! Rand killed one and almost killed another! The world is smoldering and ripe to burn already, and whatever he does, whatever violence and terror he inevitably causes will be necessary, because of this." Moiraine took the leather pouch from her belt and upended it, spilling the contents on the table. It appeared to be only a heap of fragmented pottery, shiny black and white.

The Amyrlin Seat touched one bit curiously, and her breath caught. "Cuendillar."

"Heartstone," Moiraine agreed. The making of cuendillar had been lost at the Breaking of the World, but what had been made of heartstone had survived the cataclysm. Even those objects swallowed by the earth or sunk in the sea had survived; they must have. No known force could break cuendillar once it was complete; even the One Power directed against heartstone only made it stronger. Except that some power had broken this.

The Amyrlin hastily assembled the pieces. What they formed was a disk the size of a man's hand, half blacker than pitch and half whiter than snow, the colors meeting along a sinuous line, unfaded by age. The ancient symbol of Aes Sedai, before the world was broken, when men and women wielded the Power together. Half of it was now called the Flame of Tar Valon; the other half was scrawled on doors, the Dragon's Fang, to accuse those within of evil. Only seven like it had been made; everything ever made of heartstone was recorded in the White Tower, and those seven were remembered above all. Siuan Sanche stared at it as she would have at a viper on her pillow.

"One of the seals on the Dark One's prison," she said finally, reluctantly. It was those seven seals over which the Amyrlin Seat was supposed to be Watcher. The secret hidden from the world, if the world ever thought of it, was that no Amyrlin Seat had known where any of the seals were since the Trolloc Wars.

"We know the Dark One is stirring, Siuan. We know his prison cannot stay sealed forever. Human work can never match the Creator's. We knew he has touched the world again, even if, thank the Light, only indirectly. Darkfriends multiply, and what we called evil but ten years ago seems almost caprice compared with what now is done every day. My Warder is needed now, not later."

"If the seals are already breaking... We may have no time at all."

"Little enough. But that little may be enough. It will have to be, I have much still to teach and he has much to learn."

The Amyrlin touched the fractured seal, and her voice grew tight, as if she were forcing herself to speak. "I saw the boy, you know, in the courtyard during the Welcome. It is one of my Talents, seeing ta'veren. A rare Talent these days, even more rare than ta'veren, and certainly not of much use. A tall boy, a handsome young man, dressed in finery." She paused to draw breath. "Moiraine, he blazed like the sun and stars. I've seldom been afraid in my life, but the sight of him made me afraid right down to my toes. I wanted to cower, to howl. I could barely speak. Agelmar thought I was angry with him, I said so little. That young man... then you brought him here, and you told me he is the Dragon Reborn."

There was still a hint of question in her voice, despite what Moiraine had told her. Moiraine answered it. "He is."

"Are you certain? Can he...? Can he... channel the One Power?" Her voice worked hard to get the words out, the Amyrlin's mouth in a moue of distaste.

"He can." A man wielding the One Power. That was a thing no Aes Sedai, except her, could contemplate without mind-numbing fear. It was a thing the whole world feared. And I will loose it on the world, I will stand beside him as his wife in all but name, Light help me. "Rand al'Thor will stand before the world as the Dragon Reborn."

The Amyrlin shuddered. "Rand al'Thor. It does not sound like a name to inspire fear and set the world on fire." She gave another shiver and rubbed her arms briskly, but her eyes suddenly shone with a purposeful light. "If he is the one, if you are certain, then we truly may have time enough. But is he safe here? I have two Red sisters with me, and I can no longer answer for Green or Yellow, either. The Light consume me, I can't answer for any of them, not with this. Even Verin and Serafelle would leap on him the way they would a scarlet adder in a nursery."

Moiraine spoke calmly, not revealing the worry she felt. "He is safe, for the moment. Safer the more women are bound to him."

The Amyrlin waited for her to say more. The silence stretched, until it was plain she would not. Finally the Amyrlin said, "You say our old plan is useless. What do you suggest now?"

"I am bound to him, but he is bound to me in turn. I will be the Aes Sedai advisor and teacher he trusts above all others and I will lead him to Illian with the Horn and he will become King. From there we can move on Tear and begin to truly fulfill the Prophecies so that the White Tower will have reason to stand with him. I cannot return to the White Tower, Siuan. Rand needs me in Illian, I will be there, and I will see that it is he who presents the Horn to the Council of Nine and the Assemblage. I will see to everything in Illian. Siuan, the Illianers would follow the Dragon, or Ba'alzamon himself, if he came bearing the Horn of Valere, and so will the greater part of those gathered for the Hunt. The true Dragon Reborn will not need to gather a following before nations move against him. He will begin with a nation around him and an army at his back. I planned on announcing his status as a shifter before we left with the Horn. It is the excuse I will give to every sister who asks why I accompany him, and the public announcement should protect him from our Red sisters, hopefully."

Siuan Sanche considered, eyebrows furrowed, staring at the golden chest that contained the Horn. Dust motes made a soft halo around her short brown hair, softening her features.

"Just this one thing will give Rand al'Thor everything he needs in one fell swoop, to guarantee the White Tower if I can do my part. I can see it now. It will be child's play for him to mobilize Illian. With the soldiers of Illian being the People of the Dragon, you will conquer the Stone. A similar notion to Logain had, but a surprisingly straightforward plan, Moiraine. What about the other two ta'veren?"

"His friend Perrin Aybara will most likely accompany him, but there is a problem with his other friend Mat. He carries a dagger from Shadar Logoth."

"Shadar Logoth! Light, why did you ever let them get near that place. Every stone of it is tainted. There isn't a pebble safe to carry away. Light help us, if Mordeth touched the boy..." The Amyrlin sounded as though she were strangled. "If that happened, the world would be doomed."

"But it did not, Siuan. We do what we must from necessity, and it was necessary. I have done enough so that Mat will not infect others, but he had the dagger too long before I knew. The link is still there. I had thought I must take him to Tar Valon to cure it, but with so many sisters present, it might be done here. So long as there are a few you can trust not to see Darkfriends where there are none. You and I and two others will suffice, using my angreal. Or even just us if Rand joins me in a Circle."

"Leane will do for one, and I can find another. I have no desire for a man to join us in a Circle." Suddenly the Amyrlin Seat gave a wry grin. "The Hall wants that angreal back, Moiraine. There are not very many of them left, and you are now considered... unreliable."

Moiraine smiled, but it did not touch her eyes. "I rediscovered the Weave to identify angreal, so they will simply have to accept it mine. They will think worse of me before I am done, once the full knowledge of Rand gets out."

The Amyrlin dropped back into her chair, but immediately leaned forward. She seemed caught between weariness and hope. "You created a Weave to identify angreal? Moiraine, that's brilliant! But Rand, will he proclaim himself? If he's afraid... The Light knows he should be, Moiraine, but men who name themselves as the Dragon want the power. If he does not..."

"He will do as I say. I have the means to see him named Dragon whether he wills it or not. And even if I somehow fail, the Pattern itself will see him named Dragon whether he wills it or not. Remember, he is ta'veren, Siuan. He has no more control over his fate than a candle wick has over the flame." She added with a smile, "He will proclaim himself. He's done his duty thus far."

The Amyrlin sighed. "It's risky, Moiraine. Risky. But my father used to say, 'Girl, if you won't take a chance, you'll never win a copper.' We have plans to make. Sit down; this won't be done quickly. I will send for wine and cheese."

Moiraine shook her head. "We have been closeted alone too long already. If any did try listening and found your Warding, they will be wondering already. It is not worth the risk. We can contrive another meeting tomorrow." Besides, my dearest friend, I cannot tell you everything, and I cannot risk letting you know I am holding anything back.

"I suppose you are right. But first thing tomorrow morning. There's so much I have to know."

"The morning," Moiraine agreed. The Amyrlin rose, and they hugged again. "Tomorrow I will tell you everything you need to know."

"Wait, before you go, the boy. What is truly your relationship with him? The rumors I've heard sound wildly out of character and he is the Dragon Reborn, a man who can channel, and yet you defend him, and stare besotted at him when he is not looking. He's far too tall for you. What is the truth, oh Daughter of mine," Siuan teased, her eyes alight in curiosity and confusion, unsure how this came to be.

Moiraine could not help herself as she sighed dreamily. "Isn't he? I used to hate it, but something about pulling the big oaf down to my level and giving him a piece of my mind is so enticing. His height is nothing bad, a benefit even. Rand tries to be kind and is quite naïve and ignorant at times, but learns fast and has a good heart. Quite pretty too with his stormy eyes, and his so'shan is stunningly beautiful that I just cannot help myself. The bond encourages it I suppose, but I think I may have missed out on years of romance with the much less vertically challenged than I."

Siuan started, wide-eyed, and gasped scandalized. Her blues eyes glittered and she could not help her smile. "Moiraine! You actually fancy him?! You're falling in love with the Dragon Reborn, a boy half your age, a boy who can channel? Moiraine, you scoundrel! What have you been thinking?!"

Leane gave Moiraine a sharp look an hour later when she finally came out into the anteroom, then darted into the Amyrlin's chamber. Rand was waiting patiently, the frozen calm of ko'di only disturbed a few times during the meeting, and subsequent gossiping-cum-interrogation. She tried to put on a chastened face, as if she had endured one of the Amyrlin's infamous upbraidings—most women, however strong-willed, returned from those big-eyed and weak-kneed—but the expression was foreign to her. She looked more angry than anything else, which served much the same purpose. She was only vaguely aware of the other women in the outer room; she thought some had gone and others come since she went in, but she barely looked at them. The hour was growing late, and there was much to be done before the morning came. Quickening her step, she moved deeper into the keep, Rand following beside her. Light blast that woman and her propensity for love stories, my life is no romance, no matter what she says.

 

[Haruchai]

Amyrlin Seat Part 3

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I don't think Rand was in aa private meeting with the Amyrlin in the OG but I may have remembered it wrong. Although much of the conversation seems to be the same as the source mat.

I'm curious to know if the Illianers will actually be considered the People of the Dragon in this iteration or if events follow canon and we end up with a great chase all the way to the Seanchan first contact war.

 

[TheWorstOfHumankind]

"I think it would be best if you accompanied me as my second Warder to my inevitable meeting with the Amyrlin Seat."

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I guess this is the point I drop off, not a fan of this. It feels quite contrived to me, considering in the original story she didn't need any such excuse. Their possible romantic involvement would've kept the Greens anyway.

It was fun till here though, good luck with the rest of the story.

 

[Adullahan]

I guess this is the point I drop off, not a fan of this. It feels quite contrived to me, considering in the original story she didn't need any such excuse. Their possible romantic involvement would've kept the Greens anyway.

It was fun till here though, good luck with the rest of the story.

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Thanks for reading up to this point. There's quite a bit more to go, so its a shame, but I appreciate your politeness.

I don't think Rand was in aa private meeting with the Amyrlin in the OG but I may have remembered it wrong. Although much of the conversation seems to be the same as the source mat.

I'm curious to know if the Illianers will actually be considered the People of the Dragon in this iteration or if events follow canon and we end up with a great chase all the way to the Seanchan first contact war.

Click to shrink...

He was not in that specific meeting in canon, no. And yeah, probably too much.

The chase will not be the same, I can tell you that. And I'm honestly not sure about the People of the Dragon bit. Could Moiraine and Egwene and the other wives not count as People of the Dragon? But that's for Dragonbind: The Dragon Reborn, which will be quite different from canon. Lots of butterflies and changes.

 

[Adullahan]

Contains excerpts from the Great Hunt by Robert Jordan.

---

Amadaine 2, 998 NE (June 9th)

Hours before dawn

The column would have made an impressive sight under the waxing moon, moving through the Tarabon night to the jangle of harness, had there been anyone to see it. A full two thousand Children of the Light, well mounted, in white tabards and cloaks, armor burnished, with their train of supply wagons, and farriers, and grooms with the strings of remounts. There were villages in this sparsely forested country, but they had left roads behind, and stayed clear of even farmers' crofts. They were to meet someone… at a flyspeck village near the northern border of Tarabon, at the edge of Almoth Plain.

Geofram Bornhald, riding at the head of his men, wondered what it was all about. He remembered too well his interview with Pedron Niall, Lord Captain Commander of the Children of the Light, in Amador, but he had learned little there.

"We are alone, Geofram," the white-haired man had said. His voice was thin and reedy with age. "I remember giving you the oath... what... thirty-six years ago, it must be, now."

Bornhald straightened. "My Lord Captain Commander, may I ask why I was called back from Caemlyn, and with such urgency? A push, and Morgase could be toppled. There are Houses in Andor that see dealing with Tar Valon as we do, and they were ready to lay claim to the throne. I left Eamon Valda in charge, but he seemed intent on following the Daughter-Heir to Tar Valon. I would not be surprised to learn the man has kidnapped the girl, or even attacked Tar Valon." And Dain, Bornhald's son, had arrived just before Bornhald was recalled. Dain was full of zeal. Too much zeal, sometimes. Enough to fall in blindly with whatever Valda proposed.

"Valda walks in the Light, Geofram. But you are the best battle commander among the Children. You will assemble a full legion, the best men you can find, and take them into Tarabon, avoiding any eyes attached to a tongue that may speak. Any such tongue must be silenced, if the eyes see."

Bornhald hesitated. Fifty Children together, or even a hundred, could enter any land without question, at least without open question, but an entire legion... "Is it war, my Lord Captain Commander? There is talk in the streets. Wild rumors, mainly, about Artur Hawkwing's armies come back." The old man did not speak. "The King...."

"Does not command the Children, Lord Captain Bornhald." For the first time there was a snap in the Lord Captain Commander's voice. "I do. Let the King sit in his palace and do what he does best. Nothing. You will be met at a village called Alcruna, and there you will receive your final orders. I expect your legion to ride in three days. Now go, Geofram. You have work to do."

Bornhald frowned. "Pardon, my Lord Captain Commander, but who will meet me? Why am I risking war with Tarabon?"

"You will be told what you must know when you reach Alcruna." The Lord Captain Commander suddenly looked more than his age. Absently he plucked at his white tunic, with the golden sunburst of the Children large on the chest. "There are forces at work beyond what you know, Geofram. Beyond what even you can know. Choose your men quickly. Now go. Ask me no more. And the Light ride with you."

Now Bornhald straightened in his saddle, working a knot out of his back. I am getting old, he thought. A day and a night in the saddle, with two pauses to water the horses, and he felt every gray hair on his head. He would not even have noticed a few years ago. At least I have not killed any innocents. He could be as hard on Darkfriends as any man sworn to the Light—Darkfriends must be destroyed before they pulled the whole world under the Shadow—but he wanted to be sure they were Darkfriends first. It had been difficult avoiding Taraboner eyes with so many men, even in the backcountry, but he had managed it. No tongues had needed to be silenced.

The scouts he had sent out came riding back, and behind them came more men in white cloaks, some carrying torches to ruin the night vision of everyone at the head of the column. With a muttered curse, Bornhald ordered a halt while he studied those who came to meet him.

Their cloaks bore the same golden sunburst on the breast as his, the same as every Child of the Light, and their leader even had golden knots of rank below it equivalent to Bornhald's. But behind their sunbursts were red shepherd's crooks. Questioners. With hot irons and pinchers and dripping water the Questioners pulled confession and repentance from Darkfriends, but there were those who said they decided guilt before ever they began. Geofram Bornhald was one who said it.

I have been sent here to meet Questioners?

"We have been waiting for you, Lord Captain Bornhald," the leader said in a harsh voice. He was a tall, hook-nosed man with the gleam of certainty in his eyes that every Questioner had. "You could have made better time. I am Einor Saren, second to Jaichim Carridin, who commands the Hand of the Light in Tarabon." The Hand of the Light—the Hand that dug out truth, so they said. They did not like the name Questioners. "There is a bridge at the village. Have your men move across. We will talk in the inn. It is surprisingly comfortable."

"I was told by the Lord Captain Commander himself to avoid all eyes."

"The village has been... pacified. Now move your men. I command, now. I have orders with the Lord Captain Commander's seal, if you doubt."

Bornhald suppressed the growl that rose in his throat. Pacified. He wondered if the bodies had been piled outside the village, or if they had been thrown into the river. It would be like the Questioners, cold enough to kill an entire village for secrecy and stupid enough to throw the bodies into the river to float downstream and trumpet their deed from Alcruna to Tanchico. "What I doubt is why I am in Tarabon with two thousand men, Questioner."

Saren's face tightened, but his voice remained harsh and demanding. "It is simple, Lord Captain. There are towns and villages across Almoth Plain with none in authority above a mayor or a Town Council. It is past time they were brought to the Light. There will be many Darkfriends in such places."

Bornhald's horse stamped. "Are you saying, Saren, that I've brought an entire legion across most of Tarabon in secrecy to root a few Darkfriends out of some grubby villages?"

"You are here to do as you are told, Bornhald. To do the work of the Light! Or are you sliding from the Light?" Saren's smile was a grimace. "If battle is what you seek, you may have your chance. The strangers have a great force on Toman Head, more than Tarabon and Arad Doman together may be able to hold, even if they can stop their own bickering long enough to work together. If the strangers break through, you will have all the fighting you can handle. The Taraboners claim the strangers are monsters, creatures of the Dark One. Some say they have Aes Sedai to fight for them. The most foolish claim they have male Aes Sedai. If they are Darkfriends, these strangers, they will have to be dealt with, too. In their turn."

For a moment, Bornhald stopped breathing. "Then the rumors are true. Artur Hawkwing's armies have returned."

"Strangers," Saren said flatly. He sounded as if he regretted having mentioned them. "Strangers, and probably Darkfriends, from wherever they came. That is all we know, and all you need to know. They do not concern you now. We are wasting time. Move your men across the river, Bornhald. I will give you your orders in the village." He whirled his horse and galloped back the way he had come, his torchbearers riding at his heels.

Bornhald closed his eyes to hasten the return of his night sight. We are being used like stones on a board. "Byar!" He opened his eyes as his second appeared at his side, stiffening in his saddle before the Lord Captain. The gaunt-faced man had almost the Questioner's light in his eyes, but he was a good soldier despite. "There is a bridge ahead. Move the legion across the river and make camp. I will join you as soon as I can."

He gathered his reins and rode in the direction the Questioner had taken. Stones on a board. But who is moving us? And why?

---

That evening

Afternoon shadows gave way to evening as Liandrin Sedai made her way through the women's apartments. Beyond the arrowslits, darkness grew and pressed on the light from the lamps in the corridor. Twilight was a troubled time for Liandrin of late, that and dawn. At dawn the day was born, just as twilight gave birth to night, but at dawn, night died, and at twilight, day. The Dark One's power was rooted in death; he gained power from death, and at those times she thought she could feel his power stirring. Something stirred in the half dark, at least. Something she almost thought she could catch if she turned quickly enough, something she was sure she could see if she looked hard enough.

Serving women in black-and-gold curtsied as she passed, but she did not respond. She kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, and did not see them.

At the door she sought, she paused for a quick glance up and down the hall. The only women in sight were servants; there were no men, of course. She pushed open the door and went in without knocking.

The outer room of the Lady Amalisa's chambers was brightly lit, and a blazing fire on the hearth held back the chill of the Shienaran night. Amalisa and her ladies sat about the room, in chairs and on the layered carpets, listening while one of their number, standing, read aloud to them. It was The Dance of the Hawk and the Hummingbird, by Teven Aerwin, which purported to set forth the proper conduct of men toward women and women toward men. Liandrin's mouth tightened; she certainly had not read it, but she had heard as much as she needed about it. Amalisa and her ladies greeted each pronouncement with gales of laughter, falling against each other and drumming their heels on the carpets like girls.

The reader was the first to become aware of Liandrin's presence. She cut off with a surprised widening of her eyes. The others turned to see what she was staring at, and silence replaced laughter. All but Amalisa scrambled to their feet, hastily smoothing hair and skirts.

The Lady Amalisa rose gracefully, with a smile. "You honor us with your presence, Liandrin. This is a most pleasant surprise. I did not expect you until tomorrow. I thought you would want to rest after your long jour—"

Liandrin cut her off sharply, addressing the air. "I will speak to the Lady Amalisa alone. All of you will leave. Now."

There was a moment of shocked silence, then the other women made their goodbyes to Amalisa. One by one they curtsied to Liandrin, but she did not acknowledge them. She continued to stare straight ahead at nothing, but she saw them, and heard. Honorifics offered with breathy unease at the Aes Sedai's mood. Eyes falling when she ignored them. They squeezed past her to the door, pressing back awkwardly so their skirts did not disturb hers.

As the door closed behind the last of them, Amalisa said, "Liandrin, I do not underst—"

"Do you walk in the Light, my daughter?" There would be none of that foolishness of calling her sister here. The other woman was older by some years, but the ancient forms would be observed. However long they had been forgotten, it was time they were remembered.

As soon as the question was out of her mouth, though, Liandrin realized she had made a mistake. It was a question guaranteed to cause doubt and anxiety, coming from an Aes Sedai, but Amalisa's back stiffened, and her face hardened.

"That is an insult, Liandrin Sedai. I am Shienaran, of a noble House and the blood of soldiers. My line has fought the Shadow since before there was a Shienar, three thousand years without fail or a day's weakness."

Liandrin shifted her point of attack, but she did not retreat. Striding across the room, she took the leather-bound copy of The Dance of the Hawk and the Hummingbird from the mantelpiece and hefted it without looking at it. "In Shienar above other lands, my daughter, the Light must be precious, and the Shadow feared." Casually she threw the book into the fire. Flames leaped as if it were a log of fatwood, thundering as they licked up the chimney. In the same instant every lamp in the room flared, hissing, so fiercely did they burn, flooding the chamber with light. "Here above all. Here, so close to the cursed Blight, where corruption waits. Here, even one who thinks he walks in the Light may still be corrupted by the Shadow."

Beads of sweat glistened on Amalisa's forehead. The hand she had raised in protest for her book fell slowly to her side. Her features still held firm, but Liandrin saw her swallow, and her feet shift. "I do not understand, Liandrin Sedai. Is it the book? It is only foolishness."

There was a faint quaver in her voice. Good. Glass lamp mantles cracked as the flames leaped higher and hotter, lighting the room as bright as unsheltered noon. Amalisa stood as stiff as a post, her face tight as she tried not to squint.

"It is you who are foolish, my daughter. I care nothing for books. Here, men enter the Blight, and walk in its taint. In the very Shadow. Why wonder you that that taint may seep into them? Whether or not against their will, still it may seep. Why think you the Amyrlin Seat herself has come?"

"No." It was a gasp.

"Of the Red am I, my daughter," Liandrin said relentlessly. "I hunt all men corrupted."

"I don't understand."

"Not only those foul ones who try the One Power. All men corrupted. High and low do I hunt."

"I don't..." Amalisa licked her lips unsteadily and made a visible effort to gather herself. "I do not understand, Liandrin Sedai. Please…"

"High even before low."

"No!" As if some invisible support had vanished, Amalisa fell to her knees, and her head dropped. "Please, Liandrin Sedai, say you do not mean Agelmar. It cannot be him."

In that moment of doubt and confusion, Liandrin struck. She did not move, but lashed out with the One Power. Amalisa gasped and gave a jerk, as if she had been pricked with a needle, and Liandrin's petulant mouth perked in a smile.

This was her own special trick from childhood, the first learned of her abilities. It had been forbidden to her as soon as the Mistress of Novices discovered it, but to Liandrin that only meant one more thing she needed to conceal from those who were jealous of her.

She strode forward and pulled Amalisa's chin up. The metal that had stiffened her was still there, but it was baser metal now, malleable to the right pressures. Tears trickled from the corners of Amalisa's eyes, glistening on her cheeks. Liandrin let the fires die back to normal; there was no longer any need for such. She softened her words, but her voice was as unyielding as steel.

"Daughter, no one wants to see you and Agelmar thrown to the people as Darkfriends. I will help you, but you must help."

"H-help you?" Amalisa put her hands to her temples; she looked confused. "Please, Liandrin Sedai, I don't... understand. It is all so... It's all..."

It was not a perfect ability; Liandrin could not force anyone to do what she wanted—though she had tried; oh, how she had tried. But she could open them wide to her arguments, make them want to believe her, want more than anything to be convinced of her rightness.

"Obey, daughter. Obey, and answer my questions truthfully, and I promise that no one will speak of you and Agelmar as Darkfriends. You will not be dragged naked through the streets, to be flogged from the city if the people do not tear you to pieces first. I will not let this happen. You understand?"

"Yes, Liandrin Sedai, yes. I will do as you say and answer you truly."

Liandrin straightened, looking down at the other woman. The Lady Amalisa stayed as she was, kneeling, her face as open as a child's, a child waiting to be comforted and helped by someone wiser and stronger. There was a rightness about it to Liandrin. She had never understood why a simple bow or curtsy was sufficient for Aes Sedai when men and women knelt to kings and queens. What queen has within her my power? Her mouth twisted angrily, and Amalisa shivered.

"Be easy in yourself, my daughter. I have come to help you, not to punish. Only those who deserve it will be punished. Truth only, speak to me."

"I will, Liandrin Sedai. I will, I swear it by my House and honor."

"Moiraine came to Fal Dara with a Darkfriend."

Amalisa was too frightened to show surprise. "Oh, no, Liandrin Sedai. No. That man came later. He is in the dungeons now."

"Later, you say. But it is true that she speaks often with him? She is often in company with this Darkfriend? Alone?"

"S-sometimes, Liandrin Sedai. Only sometimes. She wishes to find out why he came here. Moiraine Sedai is—" Liandrin held up her hand sharply, and Amalisa swallowed whatever else she had been going to say.

"By three young men Moiraine was accompanied. This I know. Where are they? I have been to their rooms, and they are not to be found."

"I—I do not know, Liandrin Sedai. They seem nice boys, and Rand al'Thor a lord. They love each other, if you must know; al'Thor and Moiraine Sedai, even if some say they are fighting. Surely you don't think they are Darkfriends."

"Not Darkfriends, no. Worse. By far more dangerous than Darkfriends, my daughter. The entire world is in danger from them. They must be found. You will command your servants to search the keep, and your ladies, and yourself. Every crack and cranny. To this, you will see personally. Personally! And to no one will you speak of it, save those I name. None else may know. None. From Fal Dara in secrecy these young men must be removed, and to Tar Valon taken. In utter secrecy."

"As you command, Liandrin Sedai. But I do not understand the need for secrecy. No one here will hinder Aes Sedai."

"Of the Black Ajah you have heard?"

Amalisa's eyes bulged, and she leaned back away from Liandrin, raising her hands as though to shield herself from a blow. "A v-vile rumor, Liandrin Sedai. V-vile. There are n-no Aes Sedai who s-serve the Dark One. I do not believe it. You must believe me! Under the Light, I s-swear I do not believe it. By my honor and my House, I swear…"

Coolly Liandrin let her go on, watching the last remaining strength leach out of the other woman with her own silence. Aes Sedai had been known to become angry, very angry, with those who even mentioned the Black Ajah much less those who said they believed in its hidden existence. After this, with her will already weakened by that little childhood trick, Amalisa would be as clay in her hands. After one more blow.

"The Black Ajah is real, child. Real, and here within Fal Dara's walls." Amalisa knelt there, her mouth hanging open. The Black Ajah. Aes Sedai who were also Darkfriends. Almost as horrible to learn the Dark One himself walked Fal Dara keep. But Liandrin would not let up now. "Any Aes Sedai in the halls you pass, a Black sister could be. This I swear. I cannot tell you which they are, but my protection you can have. If in the Light you walk and me obey."

"I will," Amalisa whispered hoarsely. "I will. Please, Liandrin Sedai, please say you will protect my brother, and my ladies..."

"Who deserves protection I will protect. Concern yourself with yourself, my daughter. And think only of what I have commanded of you. Only that. The fate of the world rides on this, my daughter. All else you must forget."

"Yes, Liandrin Sedai. Yes. Yes."

Liandrin turned and crossed the room, not looking back until she reached the door. Amalisa was still on her knees, still watching her anxiously. "Rise, my Lady Amalisa." Liandrin made her voice pleasant, with only a hint of the mocking she felt. Sister, indeed! Not one day as a novice would she last. And power to command she has. "Rise." Amalisa straightened in slow, stiff jerks, as if she had been bound hand and foot for hours. As she finally came upright, Liandrin said, the steel back in full strength, "And if you fail the world, if you fail me, that wretched Darkfriend in the dungeon will be your envy."

From the look on Amalisa's face, Liandrin did not think failure would come from any lack of effort on her part.

Pulling the door shut behind her, Liandrin suddenly felt a prickling across her skin. Breath catching, she whirled about, looking up and down the dimly lit hall. Empty. It was full night beyond the arrowslits. The hall was empty, yet she was sure there had been eyes on her. The vacant corridor, shadowy between the lamps on the walls, mocked her. She shrugged uneasily, then started down the hall determinedly. Fancies take me. Nothing more.

Full night already, and there was much to do before dawn. Her orders had been explicit.

Sometime Later

Pitch-blackness covered the dungeons whatever the hour, unless someone brought in a lantern, but Padan Fain sat on the edge of his cot, staring into the dark with a smile on his face. He could hear the other two prisoners grumbling in their sleep, muttering in nightmares. Padan Fain was waiting for something, something he had been awaiting for a long time. For too long. But not much longer.

The door to the outer guardroom opened, spilling in a flood of light, darkly outlining a figure in the doorway.

Fain stood. "You! Not who I expected." He stretched with a casualness he did not feel. Blood raced through his veins; he thought he could leap over the keep if he tried. "Surprises for everyone, eh? Well, come on. The night's getting old, and I want some sleep sometime."

As a lamp came into the cell chamber, Fain raised his head, grinning at something, unseen yet felt, beyond the dungeon's stone ceiling, to the south. "It isn't over yet," he whispered. "The battle's never over."

---

That night

Egwene and I stepped out of the Door into a clearing near the al'Thor farm I managed to remember. She dressed us in well-made clothing but not the fancy ones Moiraine liked me to wear. I wore a red linen shirt that I liked and simple dark brown pants and my father's sword sheathed in plain brown leather. Egwene wore a white and blue cotton dress with a square neckline that showed off her collarbone and the small emerald necklace, as she insisted on some jewelry.

Night had already set and in my off-hand I held a branch with a Torchflame weave tied off, a natural-looking flame rather than some strange color or nature I had discovered in my experimentation. Our fingers intertwined we walked maybe ten minutes through the woods, new growth dotting the landscape and flower petals shut giving the Westwood a quiet feeling, the calls of nightbirds trilling through the night. It felt familiar and strange at the same time, but I clung to the feeling of familiarity.

We came out on the far side of the tabac fields, in the north, and I took a moment to gaze on the young plants dotting them, some already a pace high. It seemed Spring had returned with a vengeance in the Two Rivers as well. The barn was burnt, half destroyed from Winternight, but a new one was being built, closer to the tabac fields. Its frame lay set, and walls half-built. The village must have been pitching in to get it built and I felt happy in that moment, that they took care of things when I could not.

Tam must have seen that flame coming through the woods because it wasn't long before I saw him sneak round the side of the farmhouse, limping slightly with a strung Two Rivers longbow and a quiver at his side. He was solid, barrel chested and broad across the shoulders. He was shorter than me by a head or more, and his hair seemed to have gone gray permanently from the injury. He spoke up once we were two dozen paces from the house.

"That's far enough. Why are two folks dressed in clothes nice enough for a feastday walking out of the Westwood at night and onto my farm?"

I raised my hands to show they were empty. "Da, it's me, Rand. I've returned for the evening, with Egwene. We need to talk and I wanted to see you."

Tam looked utterly confused and took a few steps forward, before breaking into a limping jog when he recognized me. I raced to meet his bone-crushing hug, just holding him and basking in the comfort of seeing my father again. We stood there in the grass, under the sickle moon, and for the first time truly I felt safe. My father was safe, I was safe and everything would be okay. I chanted this mantra in my head.

"You're back! And so soon. Where is the rest of the group?" He looked around, presumably for Mat and Perrin.

"Fal Dara in Shienar," Egwene answered truthfully. "We traveled using the One Power."

Tam laughed, thinking it a joke, leaving the hug but putting an arm around me. "You even got Egwene doing pranks, Rand," he commented, squeezing my shoulder. "You both have changed so much. You look a year older Rand, you look a man." He smiled proudly. "You wear the sword well. And Egwene, there's a glow about you, your beauty shines. Adventure seems to have been good for you both,"—Tam nodded to himself, as if vindicated in something—"So really, are the others? In the forest hiding for the prank, or maybe up north by Taren Ferry with its nicer inn for the Aes Sedai?"

"My wife tells the truth." I thought it'd be fun to reveal the news that way.

Tam stiffened, his face turning pale. "You leave home for nigh two months and you two immediately get married?! Mistress al'Vere will strip you hide, Egwene, and I won't be able to protect you either Rand, I won't. You did not get her pregnant, did you?"

I flushed with embarrassment and shouted, "No! No, of course not. We married for love and destiny, dad."

"You could say it was fated, father," Egwene teased. "Besides, would you rather Rand be alone out in the world with an Aes Sedai wrapping herself around his little finger, or me by his side to protect him?"

Tam looked worried. "The Aes Sedai did something like that…?"

"I have much to tell you, dad. About the Aes Sedai and about me and about everything. Its been a long month. I don't think you'll much like some of the news."

"Then come inside," he beckoned as he kept an arm round my shoulder. "I'll make some tea, heat some stew, and we can speak of your 'adventures' out in the world beyond the Two Rivers," he said, finishing in a teasing voice.

I snorted. Forgive him, Creator, he knows not what he says.

New wood replaced the old, Trolloc blood having rotted the wood, he explained as I stared at each new part of the home I did not recognize. Most of the chairs had to be replaced in the living room around the hearth, and a new couch sat, looking quite fluffy, stuffed full of goose feathers.

"Thane's cousin in Taren Ferry wanted a third of my tabac for it, but its worth it. Your mother loved the old couch and she would have loved this one. Go on, you two take it," he said, motioning us to it.

And so we sat and ate, and I explained, asking him to hold back questions until I finished. Egwene sat next to me on the couch, while my father sat in a chair I recognized as his reading chair, stuffed with pillows as he settled in for the tale. I started with waking up an amnesiac, in the Eye of the World, watching moth-eaten memories of my life while floating in the void, and meeting the Iridescent Flame, until Tam could not hold back laughter as I spoke of the spirit naming me Dragon Reborn and chastising me for not training.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm just laughing at the Whitecloaks. When they learn that their supposed 'Sacred Revelation the Dragon Reborn will have at the hands of a spirit of the Creator' is said spirit complaining he did not channel the One Power enough, they will huff and shout and whine endlessly and turn even against their own prophets."

My father went on to explain that every so often a Whitecloak prophet claims to be visited by a spirit of the Creator, who gifts them revelations. Amongst these revelations is a prophecy that the Dragon Reborn will also be given revelations. It has become widely assumed by the rank and file Whitecloaks that the Dragon will align with them, spreading them to every nation and burning Tar Valon to the ground.

"I'm guessing I should not ally with them," I joked.

Tam frowned. "Absolutely not. IF you are the Dragon Reborn, and not simply…" He could not say the words. Madman. False Dragon. Dead man walking. "Well, then under no circumstances as a son of mine, will you join with the Whitecloaks, except to crush them and absorb the remains." Tam spoke vehemently, his eyes dark with rage. "I've fought those supposed light-blessed bloody villains. They burn villages to the ground, torture women and children, mutilate corpses. They are monsters, not men. Their Questioners are the worst."

I was taken aback. "When did you fight Whitecloaks?"

"When I was a Companion to the King of Illian in my younger, wandering years, before Kari and I settled down with you. I was good at it, as good as I am with the bow," was all he was willing to say on the matter, wanting me to continue. Another time. It explains how he was in the Aiel War, though.

I spoke of refinement and prophecy, of my wounded soul stitched with another, and Egwene spoke up then.

"Do not let Rand tell you he is the dregs, or some broken reflection of your son. He has this silly idea that just because he's changed a bit, sometimes curses in other languages, and has a destiny, that he is somehow lesser than the Rand he was before." I mock glared at her, secretly feeling happy that she cared enough to preempt any self-loathing that lingered. "And I am part of the Prophecy. Do you see the tattoo on my hand?"

The white teardrop Flame of Tar Valon, nestled in a rainbow swirl of the seven colors of the Ajah lay atop her right hand. Tam nodded. "Yes, its just a tattoo though? Nothing special about it. Always thought the banner for the Amyrlin Seat was pretty."

"Look at my right arm, dad." I pulled my sleeve down, revealing the dragon the twisted round my right arm, ending at my wrist, two heraldic shields above and below the body of the beast, one containing the sigil of Tar Valon and the other a white flower on blue.

"Yes? That's just a large tattoo of a strange serpent with legs and… and a copy of Egwene's tattoo above it in a shield? And another shield as well? Does that mean that it's someone else's tattoo?" His voice became disturbed. "You had this made in only two months? This looks almost real, painted on your skin. Wait. Wait. Why do you have a tattoo?" His eyes were wide, as if he just realized how strange the tattoos were. For the first time someone that wasn't one of us or Lan noticed the tattoos as out-of-place. There was no way even the greatest tattooist could have made my dragon.

"When I bound Egwene, they both appeared. They are a symbol of our connection and my destiny, according to Moiraine. Egwene was the first, as was only right."

"A tattoo just appeared on your arm, Rand? And what a strange animal it is. Looks like a serpent with a lion for a father." He peered curiously as the dragon that seemed to shimmer in the firelight on my skin.

"It was burnt into my flesh by a sacred flame, and I have no better explanation, unfortunately."

"Whose is the second tattoo? If the first one is Egwene… Don't tell me the Wisdom somehow fell in love with you!?" Tam sounded worried at the thought of Nynaeve as a daughter-in-law.

Egwene smirked and chirped happily. "It was the Aes Sedai, actually, and she proved herself to be exactly like the stories, the conniving witch. But Rand didn't let her simply walk all over him once he learned. She lost her Rand privileges, and she's quite upset about it. She had slept in his bed every other night, and loved it."

That flabbergasted Tam. "Rand… is married… to you, and the lover of an Aes Sedai… are you not spitting mad? That's not right, Egwene!" I wilted under his harsh glare. He is not wrong. But the women seem to accept it. "Rand, you should be ashamed of yourself."

Egwene sighed. "Fortunately, and unfortunately, he is as good as married to the both of us. This bond counts by my reasoning, we're closer than any couple, know each other's feelings, health and can find each other anywhere. That It may not be right or proper but it is what Rand has to do to survive. And there is the fact there will be four other women beside Moiraine Sedai. There was a prophecy, and if Rand is to fulfill it, he must have six wives."

"Six wives… Not right." my dad muttered, looking at me with sympathy. "Light, Rand. I don't know what's worse. Six wives, or that one's an Aes Sedai."

"Until we learned what she hid from us, what she tried to do Rand, she really was not that bad. She taught me to channel the One Power, to prepare me to get through the White Tower as quickly as possible so I can return to Rand's side as a Dragonwife. She taught Rand history and geography, she helped him channel, she made sure he didn't get stuck in self-recrimination or spirals of anxiety about his future, she made him accept us as wives, and for all her failures recently, she made him listen." She played with my hair as I spoke and I tried to give my father a long suffering look, but could not help my smile.

"Until recently she really was quite great, I just wish I had never learned what she did," I said in agreement.

"What kind of failures did Rand's Aes Sedai wife have, to make all her good points sour?" Tam asked curiously. He leaned forward in his chair, inquisitive. "And why has she not gentled Rand yet? I really am quite confused how exactly you seduced an Aes Sedai, Rand, if you are a man that can channel. You're not exactly… worldly with girls. Egwene made sure of that."

She beamed, nodding in agreement, hand playing with my hair. "Rand is better naive, it is much cuter. Of course I never let those other Two Rivers girls even think of touching him."

I ignored Egwene. "It's Moiraine's duty to me, as Dragon Reborn, and that means not gentling me. As she tells it, the Amyrlin Seat herself sent Moiraine to find me, and protect me, and guide me."

"To tie you up with Aes Sedai strings and puppet you, more like," Egwene muttered.

"We don't know that. We know she only tried once, but I do worry—"

Tam interrupted my trailing speech. "What exactly did this Aes Sedai do, after she managed to win you both over so well?"

"That has to do with the binding, and the bond I share with Egwene and Moiraine. There are other aspects, secret aspects about the bond that Moiraine did not make myself or Egwene aware of until this last week."

I took a deep breath, to settle myself before I delved into the topic. "To understand you must know that Compulsion is a forbidden art of the One Power, that manipulates the mind of its victim to follow the orders of the channeler. The bond does something similar, so when I bound Moiraine she began to develop a crush on me, an irrational, obvious to her, crush on a young man she did not find overly attractive. She recognized it within a day as Compulsion and in a fit of petty cruelty she attempted to use a secret weave on me, of the Blue Ajah that—."

My father interrupted, he had a frown on his face. "Let me guess, it did something similar to what had been done to her."

I paused and nodded, a little hesitantly. "Yes… it would make me see her as a figure of authority and trust. It would have changed my mind, and if it had worked eventually she could have completely enthralled me." I said fiercely, angry at the very idea of someone trying to take control of me. That Moiraine would. It was silly, she was an Aes Sedai. Of course she would try to control me. And yet…

"It would have, over time." He agreed. "Just like you have apparently enthralled an Aes Sedai into being your wife," came the reply that hit like a hammer blow to my chest. I knew it, of course. I was being a hypocrite.

I squirmed on the couch, feeling anxious from the words. "I know, dad. I know. But she chose the bond!"

"Did she? Sounds to me like it was more her job to watch over you, not anything like affection or love. Sounds to me as if she reacted badly once."

I continued, voice a little rougher, his words hitting home. "When she found she could not even access the One Power while trying to channel the weave, she had discovered something else. The bond protected me from any harmful action any of my wives take. It apparently stops them cold, or ruins the plans somehow. She did not explain why, really, but she tested it to the point of leaving her Warder notes that were an attempt to kill me. I only know because he told me that she has certain ways she communicates when she wants certain actions she cannot take, because of the Three Oaths, done. And until Lan opened the last envelope and the poem about my stormy eyes fell out, he was getting instructions to murder one of the ta'veren for falling to the Shadow."

It still made me shudder to think about it. Who could do such a thing? And why? These thoughts and more ran through my head, Egwene snuggled into my side. After thinking carefully for a long minute, my father spoke.

"She is an Aes Sedai, a woman more powerful than almost any man ever could be, with the backing of a thousand Sisters and a history stretching back three thousand years, Rand. Consider her position. Men are said to be stronger, more powerful in the One Power, that it was how they broke the world. Now she is bound to one, a man who can channel, is more powerful than her, and will go mad and she cannot gentle him. She must share his bed and teach him because he is the Dragon Reborn, and she is bound to him, but that does not change how dangerous he is. When she finds out that the binding affects her as well, changing her mind and making the Dragon Reborn into a man she could love, she reacts badly. I cannot countenance that an Aes Sedai tried to arrange the murder of my son, or one that tried to manipulate his mind, but I can one that tries to make the Dragon Reborn loyal to the White Tower and herself as a defense—I can understand that, it's her duty—one that figures out how far she could take something before the 'defenses' that protect the Dragon Reborn's life stopped her. Everyone's life may depend on that," he said slowly, with regret in his voice. "I'm not happy about that, but I understand it. Where that logic comes from."

After a pause, he continued. "Maybe she meant it while she tested it, maybe she merely considered the benefits, maybe she hated it. I do not know her mind, but I do know yours. I'll bet the first harvest you have not asked her what she thought, merely assumed as an Aes Sedai that she meant to truly harm you. Maybe she did, maybe she did not, but I've found women always have reasons they do things, and sometimes they even make sense. This one makes more sense to me than others."

I wish I could say my mouth hung open in shock that my father thought Moiraine figuring out how to harm me was acceptable because of the fate dealt to me, that her trying to manipulate my mind was understandable. But the bloodiest fucking thing was I could not deny his blasted words. If I truly thought about it, if I truly put myself in Moiraine's position, why would she not try to find some way to make sure I did not run off and Break the World again? If I had gone mad, and could not delay it indefinitely with my shifting, I could ruin everything, let Creation fall to the Shadow. And I never asked how she felt, how she truly felt about any of it, the bond, the compulsion, us, my being the Dragon Reborn. I simply had reacted in anger and betrayal. It was my right to, but still.

Egwene squirmed. "She… Rand, she told me she did such things because she worried about the Enemy in the prophecy figuring out a loophole. She explained how Aes Sedai utilized loopholes in the Oaths constantly, circumventing them with ease."

"Oh. So I've been mad at her and worried over something that didn't matter." I was more than a bit annoyed at her. "Why did you not say this before, Egwene?"

Words spilled from her in a rapid pace, frustrated tears coming to Egwene's eyes. "You were the one following her like a moonstruck calf, following her every word and blushing as she paraded you around the Fortress and Fal Dara, all dressed up in the fancy lord clothing she had made for you. Yes Moiraine, No Moiraine, may I have another Moiraine!" I stared surprised at Egwene. "I just wanted some time with you myself before I had to leave for the Tower. If you knew, you'd have immediately forgiven her, and she would have learnt nothing. Even angry, you still listen to every word she says."

I took a moment to gather my thoughts. "I had promised to reconnect with you, not leave you behind. I apologize for failing that promise enough that you felt hiding this from me was necessary. But when we return, I think we need to have a nice long chat with Moiraine and discuss things before we leave for the south."

Egwene frowned, but nodded. "Okay. I still want to sleep in your bed every night, while I still can." My father shuffled around in his chair, uncomfortably.

I thought of it. "Would you mind the three of us together some night?"

He made to speak, but shut his mouth with a snap, staring wide-eyed at me.

Egwene grimaced at that. "I'd rather keep you to myself, but I was getting a little sore from you every night. Every other night with Moiraine so we can just sleep nicely would work."

"Can you two seriously not wait to have this conversation?" Tam snorted, "I guess you better be married huh, before Bran hears about his grandchild."

Egwene raised her chin primly, cheeks blushing. "Moiraine Sedai taught me a weave to use. There will be no grandchildren until after… Tarmon Gai'don."

We all shuddered at the mention, even Egwene. We sat in silence for a minute. "You really think Rand will survive," asked Tam, sounding a little lost. "I can barely imagine him wielding fire and lightning, let alone fighting the Dark One."

"If I fight him as a 90 foot dragon, the creature my tattoo is of, wielding fire and lighting, would that image settle better in your mind? Besides, Egwene and Moiraine promised me centuries of love and children beyond number. What else is there to do but survive?"

"You will go mad far too early." Tam's voice was distant. "You will go mad, Rand, and my son will die before me." His eyes welled with tears. "I just realized. It's just hit me."

"I won't go mad, dad. I won't." My voice was impassioned. "The Creator blessed me. I am a chinnar'veren, a shapechanger. The Taint is anathema to my body while I change my shape. It will keep the madness at bay. I won't go mad."

I explained and showed him my so'shan, demonstrated some basic weaves and the smoke generated by channeling. We were beginning to speak of my training with Lan Gaidin when sudden alarm and fear pierced the muted buzzing of Moiraine bond, and then a deep desire, a desire that I felt calling me to return. "Something's wrong and Moiraine is in trouble. We need to return to Fal Dara."

"Go rescue your Aes Sedai wife, adventurer," Tam said, smiling sadly. "But remember to visit. I'll let Bran quietly know that I heard from you and you all are doing okay. The gossip will spread from there."

"I'll come visit at night another time. Maybe I can bring Moiraine Sedai?" I asked hesitantly, as I seized saidin once more. Smoke poured from my nostrils.

"Bring her. We should definitely talk, I did not know taking care of my son meant sleep in his bed! But I should meet my second of six daughter-in-laws." Tam gave a resounding bark of laughter. "Six wives! Light Rand, you do not do things by half do you? Dragon Reborn and six wives and only two months of adventure."

The Door opened in the middle of the living room, slicing through the top layer of a rug. "Shit. Sorry, Doors are dangerously sharp. I'll have to be more careful.."

My father gaped. "What is that thing? Looks like a silver-black window just hanging in the air. You made that?"

"A Door to another place, we travel faster there. I'm sorry to cut this short, but goodbye, dad, and I guess don't go into the clearing north of the tabac fields if you do not wish to be cut. I will try to visit you soon."

I stepped through onto Bela's cart, joining Egwene and began our hour-long trek to Fal Dara.

Egwene spoke up. "He seemed to take all that well enough, even if we did not finish."

"I think he half thought we were mad or pranking him until the tattoos. We will have to see how he seems next time we visit him." I put an arm around Egwene, and though we couldn't feel any heat in the strange realm of Darkspace, she snuggled into my side all the same.

---

Amadaine ???, 998 NE (June ???th)

The waxing moon lit the humid, night-dark streets of Illian, which still rang with celebration left over from daylight. In only a few more days, the Great Hunt of the Horn would be sent forth with pomp and ceremony that tradition claimed dated to the Age of Legends. The festivities for the Hunters had blended into the Feast of Teven, with its famed contests and prizes for gleemen. The greatest prize of all, as always, would go for the best telling of The Great Hunt of the Horn.

Tonight the gleemen entertained in the palaces and mansions of the city, where the great and mighty disported themselves, and the Hunters come from every nation to ride out and find, if not the Horn of Valere itself, at least immortality in song and story. They would have music and dancing, and fans and ices to dispel the year's first real heat, but carnival filled the streets, too, in the moon-bright muggy night. Every day was a carnival, until the Hunt departed, and every night.

People ran past Bayle Domon in masks and costumes bizarre and fanciful, many showing too much flesh. Shouting and singing they ran, a half dozen together, then scattered pairs giggling and clutching each other, then twenty in a raucous knot. Fireworks crackled in the sky, gold and silver bursts against the black. There were almost as many Illuminators in the city as there were gleemen.

Domon spared little thought for fireworks, or for the Hunt. He was on his way to meet men he thought might be trying to kill him.

He crossed the Bridge of Flowers, over one of the city's many canals, into the Perfumed Quarter, the port district of Illian. The canal smelled of too many chamber pots, with never a sign that there had ever been flowers near the bridge. The quarter smelled of hemp and pitch from the shipyards and docks, and sour harbor mud, all of it made fiercer by heated air that seemed nearly damp enough to drink. Domon breathed heavily; every time he returned from the northcountry he found himself surprised, for all he had been born there, at the early summer heat in Illian.

In one hand he carried a stout cudgel, and the other hand rested on the hilt of the short sword he had often used in defending the decks of his river trader from brigands. No few footpads stalked these nights of revelry, where the pickings were rich and most were deep in wine.

Yet he was a broad, muscular man, and none of those out for a catch of gold thought him rich enough, in his plain-cut coat, to risk his size and his cudgel. The few who caught a clear glimpse of him, when he passed through light spilling from a window, edged back till he was well past. Dark hair that hung to his shoulders and a long beard that left his upper lip bare framed a round face, but that face had never been soft, and now it was set as grimly as if he meant to batter his way through a wall. He had men to meet, and he was not happy about it.

More revelers ran past singing off-key, wine mangling their words. "The Horn of Valere," my aged grandmother! Domon thought glumly. It be my ship I do want to hang on to. And my life, Fortune prick me.

He pushed into an inn, under a sign of a big, white-striped badger dancing on its hind legs with a man carrying a silver shovel. Easing the Badger, it was called, though not even Nieda Sidoro, the innkeeper, knew what the name meant; there had always been an inn of the name in Illian.

The common room, with sawdust on the floor and a musician softly strumming a twelve-stringed bittern in one of the Sea Folk's sad songs, was well lighted and quiet. Nieda allowed no commotion in her place, and her nephew, Bili, was big enough to carry a man out with either hand. Sailors, dockworkers, and warehousemen came to the Badger for a drink and maybe a little talk, for a game of stones or darts. The room was half full now; even men who liked quiet had been lured out by carnival. The talk was soft, but Domon caught mentions of the Hunt, and of the false Dragon the Murandians had taken, and of the one the Tairens were chasing through Haddon Mirk. There seemed to be some question whether it would be preferable to see the false Dragon die, or the Tairens.

Domon grimaced. False Dragons! Fortune prick me, there be no place safe these days. But he had no real care for false Dragons, any more than for the Hunt.

The stout proprietress, with her hair rolled at the back of her head, was wiping a mug, keeping a sharp eye on her establishment. She did not stop what she was doing, or even look at him, really, but her left eyelid drooped, and her eyes slanted toward three men at a table in the corner. They were quiet even for the Badger, almost somber, and their bell-shaped velvet caps and dark coats, embroidered across the chest in bars of silver and scarlet and gold, stood out among the plain dress of the other patrons.

Domon sighed and took a table in a corner by himself. Cairhienin, this time. He took a mug of brown ale from a serving girl and drew a long swallow. When he lowered the mug, the three men in striped coats were standing beside his table. He made an unobtrusive gesture, to let Nieda know that he did not need Bili.

"Captain Domon?" They were all three nondescript, but there was an air about the speaker that made Domon take him for their leader. They did not appear to be armed; despite their fine clothes, they looked as if they did not need to be. There were hard eyes in those so very ordinary faces. "Captain Bayle Domon, of the Spray?"

Domon gave a short nod, and the three sat down without waiting for an invitation. The same man did the talking; the other two just watched, hardly blinking. Guards, Domon thought, for all their fine clothes. Who do he be to have a pair of guards to look over him?

"Captain Domon, we have a personage who must be brought from Mayene to Illian."

"Spray be a river craft," Domon cut him off. "Her draft be shallow, and she has no the keel for deep water." It was not exactly true, but close enough for landsmen. At least it be a change from Tear. They be getting smarter.

The man seemed unperturbed at the interruption. "We had heard you were giving up the river trade."

"Maybe I do, and maybe no. I have no decided." He had, though. He would not go back upriver, back to the Borderlands, for all the silk shipped in Tairen bottoms. Saldaean furs and ice peppers were not worth it, and it had nothing to do with the false Dragon he had heard of there. But he wondered again how anyone knew. He had not spoken of it to anyone, yet the others had known, too.

"You can coast to Mayene easily enough. Surely, Captain, you would be willing to sail along the shoreline for a thousand gold marks."

Despite himself, Domon goggled. It was four times the last offer, and that had been enough to make a man's jaw drop. "Who do you want me to fetch for that? The First of Mayene herself? Has Tear finally forced her all the way out, then?"

"You need no names, Captain." The man set a large leather pouch on the table, and a sealed parchment. The pouch clinked heavily as he pushed them across the table. The big red wax circle holding the folded parchment shut bore the many-rayed Rising Sun of Cairhien. "Two hundred on account. For a thousand marks, I think you need no names. Give that, seal unbroken, to the Port Captain of Mayene, and he will give you three hundred more, and your passenger. I will hand over the remainder when your passenger is delivered here. So long as you have made no effort to discover that personage's identity."

Domon drew a deep breath. Fortune, it be worth the voyage if there be never another penny beyond what be in that sack. And a thousand was more money than he would clear in three years. He suspected that if he probed a little more, there would be other hints, just hints, that the voyage involved hidden dealings between Illian's Council of Nine and the First of Mayene. The First's city-state was a province of Tear in all but name, and she would no doubt like Illian's aid. And there were many in Illian who said it was time for another war, that Tear was taking more than a fair share of the trade on the Sea of Storms. A likely net to snare him, if he had not seen three like it in the past month.

He reached to take the pouch, and the man who had done all the talking caught his wrist. Domon glared at him, but he looked back undisturbed.

"You must sail as soon as possible, Captain."

"At first light," Domon growled, and the man nodded and released his hold.

"At first light, then, Captain Domon. Remember, discretion keeps a man alive to spend his money."

Domon watched the three of them leave, then stared sourly at the pouch and the parchment on the table in front of him. Someone wanted him to go east. Tear or Mayene, it did not matter so long as he went east. He thought he knew who wanted it. And then again, I have no a clue to them. Who could know who was a Darkfriend? But he knew that Darkfriends had been after him since before he left Marabon to come back downriver. Darkfriends and Trollocs. Of that, he was sure. The real question, the one he had not even a glimmer of an answer for, was why?

"Trouble, Bayle?" Nieda asked. "You do look as if you had seen a Trolloc." She giggled, an improbable sound from a woman her size. Like most people who had never been to the Borderlands, Nieda did not believe in Trollocs. He had tried telling her the truth of it; she enjoyed his stories, and thought they were all lies. She did not believe in snow, either.

"No trouble, Nieda." He untied the pouch, dug a coin out without looking, and tossed it to her. "Drinks for everyone till that do run out, then I'll give you another."

Nieda looked at the coin in surprise. "A Tar Valon mark! Do you be trading with the witches now, Bayle?"

"No," he said hoarsely. "That I do not!"

She bit the coin, then quickly snugged it away behind her broad belt. "Well, it be gold for that. And I suspect the witches be no so bad as some make them out, anyway. I'd no say so much to many men. I know a money changer who do handle such. You'll no have to give me another, with as few as be here tonight. More ale for you, Bayle?"

He nodded numbly, though his mug was still almost full, and she trundled off. She was a friend, and would not speak of what she had seen. He sat staring at the leather pouch. Another mug was brought before he could make himself open it enough to look at the coins inside. He stirred them with a callused finger. Gold marks glittered up at him in the lamplight, every one of them bearing the damning Flame of Tar Valon. Hurriedly he tied the bag. Dangerous coins. One or two might pass, but so many would say to most people exactly what Nieda thought. There were Children of the Light in the city, and although there was no law in Illian against dealing with Aes Sedai, he would never make it to a magistrate if the Whitecloaks heard of this. These men had made sure he would not simply take the gold and stay in Illian.

While he was sitting there worrying, Yarin Maeldan, his brooding, stork-like second on Spray, came into the Badger with his brows pulled down to his long nose and stood over the captain's table. "Carn's dead, Captain."

Domon stared at him, frowning. Three others of his men had already been killed, one each time he refused a commission that would take him east. The magistrates had done nothing; the streets were dangerous at night, they said, and sailors a rough and quarrelsome lot. Magistrates seldom troubled themselves with what happened in the Perfumed Quarter, as long as no respectable citizens were injured.

"But this time I did accept them," he muttered.

"'Tisn't all, Captain," Yarin said. "They worked Carn with knives, like they wanted him to tell them something. And some more men tried to sneak aboard Spray not an hour gone. The dock watch ran them off. Third time in ten days, and I never knew wharf rats to be so persistent. They like to let an alarm die down before they try again. And somebody tossed my room at the Silver Dolphin last night. Took some silver, so I'd think it was thieves, but they left that belt buckle of mine, the one set with garnets and moonstones, lying right out in plain sight. What's going on, Captain? The men are afraid, and I'm a little nervous myself."

Domon reared to his feet. "Roust the crew, Yarin. Find them and tell them Spray sails as soon as there do be men enough aboard to handle her." Stuffing the parchment into his coat pocket, he snatched up the bag of gold and pushed his second out the door ahead of him. "Roust them, Yarin, for I'll leave any man who no makes it, standing on the quay as he is."

Domon gave Yarin a shove to start him running, then stalked off toward the docks. Even footpads who heard the clinking of the pouch he carried steered clear of him, for he walked now like a man going to do murder.

There were already crewmen scrambling aboard Spray when he arrived, and more running barefoot down the stone quay. They did not know what he feared was pursuing him, or even that anything did pursue him, but they knew he made good profits, and after the Illianer way, he gave shares to the crew.

Spray was eighty feet long, with two masts, and broad in the beam, with room for deck cargo as well as in the holds. Despite what Domon had told the Cairhienin—if they had been Cairhienin—he thought she could stand the open water. The Sea of Storms was quieter in the summer.

"She'll have to," he muttered, and strode below to his cabin.

He tossed the sack of gold on his bed, built neatly against the hull like everything else in the stern cabin, and dug out the parchment. Lighting a lantern, hanging in its swivel from the overhead, he studied the sealed document, turning it as if he could read what was inside without opening it. A rap on the door made him frown.

"Come."

Yarin stuck his head in. "They're all aboard but three I couldn't find, Captain. But I've spread the word through every tavern, hell, and crib in the quarter. They'll be aboard before it's light enough to start upriver."

"Spray do sail now. To sea." Domon cut off Yarin's protests about light and tides, and Spray not being built for the open sea. "Now! Spray can clear the bars at dead low tide. You've no forgotten how to sail by the stars, have you? Take her out, Yarin. Take her out now, and come back to me when we be beyond the breakwater."

His second hesitated—Domon never let a tricky bit of sailing pass without him on deck giving orders, and taking Spray out in the night would be all of that, shallow draft or no—then nodded and vanished. In moments, the sounds of Yarin shouting orders and bare feet thumping on the decks overhead penetrated Domon's cabin. He ignored them, even when the ship lurched, catching the tide.

Finally he lifted the mantle of the lantern and stuck a knife into the flame. Smoke curled up as oil burned off the blade, but before the metal could turn red, he pushed charts out of the way and pressed the parchment flat on his desk, working the hot steel slowly under the sealing wax. The top fold lifted.

It was a simple document, without preamble or salutation, and it made sweat break out on his forehead.

The bearer of this is a Darkfriend wanted in Cairhien for murders and other foul crimes, least among them, theft from Our Person. We call upon you to seize this man and all things found in his keeping, to the smallest. Our representative will come to carry away what he has stolen from Us. Let all he possesses, save what We claim, go to you as reward for taking him. Let the vile miscreant himself be hanged immediately, that his Shadow-spawned villainy no longer taint the Light.

Sealed by Our Hand

Galldrian su Riatin Rie

King of Cairhien

Defender of the Dragonwall

In thin red wax below the signature were impressed the Rising Sun seal of Cairhien and the Five Stars of House Riatin.

"Defender of the Dragonwall, my aged grandmother," Domon croaked. "Fine right the man do have to call himself that any longer."

He examined the seals and signature minutely, holding the document close to the lamp, with his nose all but brushing the parchment, but he could find no flaw in the one, and for the other, he had no idea what Galldrian's hand looked like. If it was not the King himself who had signed it, he suspected that whoever had had made a good imitation of Galldrian's scrawl. In any case, it made no real difference. In Tear, the letter would be instantly damning in the hands of an Illianer. Or in Mayene, with Tairen influence so strong. There was no war now, and men from either port came and went freely, but there was as little love for Illianers in Tear as the other way round. Especially with an excuse like this.

For a moment he thought of putting the parchment into the lantern's flame—it was a dangerous thing to have, in Tear or Illian or anywhere he could imagine—but finally he tucked it carefully into a secret cubbyhole behind his desk, concealed by a panel only he knew how to open.

"My possessions, eh?"

He collected old things, as much as he could living on shipboard. What he could not buy, because it was too expensive or too large, he collected by seeing and remembering. All those remnants of times gone, those wonders scattered around the world that had first pulled him aboard a ship as boy. He had added four to his collection in Maradon this last trip, and it had been then that the Darkfriend pursuit began. And Trollocs, too, for a time. He had heard that Whitebridge had been burned to the ground right after he sailed from there, and there had been rumors of Myrddraal as well as Trollocs. It was that, all of it together, that had first convinced him he was not imagining things, that had had him on guard when that first odd commission was offered, too much money for a simple voyage to Tear, and a thin tale for a reason.

Digging into his chest, he set out on the desk what he had bought in Maradon. A lightstick, left from the Age of Legends, or so it was said. Certainly no one knew the making of them any longer. Expensive, that, and rarer than an honest magistrate. It looked like a plain glass rod, thicker than his thumb and not quite as long as his forearm, but when held in the hand it glowed as brightly as a lantern. Lightsticks shattered like glass, too; he had nearly lost Spray in the fire caused by the first he had owned. A small, age-dark ivory carving of a man holding a sword. The fellow who sold it claimed if you held it long enough you started to feel warm. Domon never had, and neither had any of the crew he let hold it, but it was old, and that was enough for Domon. The skull of a cat as big as a lion, and so old it was turned to stone. But no lion had ever had fangs, almost tusks, a foot long. And a thick disk the size of a man's hand, half white and half black, a sinuous line separating the colors. The shopkeeper in Maradon had said it was from the Age of Legends, thinking he lied, but Domon had haggled only a little before paying, because he recognized what the shopkeeper did not: the ancient symbol of Aes Sedai from before the Breaking of the World. Not a safe thing to have, precisely, but neither a thing to be passed up by a man with a fascination for the old.

And it was heartstone. The shopkeeper had never dared add that to what he thought were lies. No riverfront shopkeeper in Maradon could afford even one piece of cuendillar.

The disk felt hard and smooth in his hand, and not at all valuable except for its age, but he was afraid it was what his pursuers were after. Lightsticks, and ivory carvings, and even bones turned to stone, he had seen other times, other places. Yet even knowing what they wanted—if he did know—he still had no idea why, and he could no longer be sure who his pursuers were. Tar Valon marks, and an ancient Aes Sedai symbol. He scrubbed a hand across his lips; the taste of fear lay bitter on his tongue.

A knock at the door. He set the disk down and pulled an unrolled chart over what lay on his desk. "Come."

Yarin entered. "We're beyond the breakwater, Captain."

Domon felt a flash of surprise, then anger with himself. He should never have gotten so engrossed that he failed to feel Spray lifting on the swells. "Make west, Yarin. See to it."

"Ebou Dar, Captain?"

No far enough. No by five hundred leagues. "We'll put in long enough for me to get charts and top the water barrels, then we do sail west."

"West, Captain? Tremalking? The Sea Folk are tight with any traders but their own."

"The Aryth Ocean, Yarin. Plenty of trade between Tarabon and Arad Doman, and hardly a Taraboner or Domani bottom to worry about. They do no like the sea, I have heard. And all those small towns on Toman Head, every one holding itself free of any nation at all. We can even pick up Saldaean furs and ice peppers brought down to Bandar Eban."

Yarin shook his head slowly. He always looked at the dark side, but he was a good sailor. "Furs and peppers'll cost more there than running upriver for them, Captain. And I hear there's some kind of war. If Tarabon and Arad Doman are fighting, there may be no trade. I doubt we'll make much off the towns on Toman Head alone, even if they are safe. Falme's the largest, and it is not big."

"The Taraboners and the Domani have always squabbled over Almoth Plain and Toman Head. Even if it has come to blows this time, a careful man can always find trade. West, Yarin."

When Yarin had gone topside, Domon quickly added the black-and-white disk to the cubbyhole, and stowed the rest back in the bottom of his chest. Darkfriends or Aes Sedai, I'll no run the way they want me. Fortune prick me, I'll no.

Feeling safe for the first time in months, Domon went on deck as Spray heeled to catch the wind and put her bow west into the night-dark sea.

 

[Lucid Lunacy]

I cannot countenance that an Aes Sedai tried to arrange the murder of my son, or one that tried to manipulate his mind, but I can one that tries to make the Dragon Reborn loyal to the White Tower and herself as a defense—I can understand that, it's her duty—one that figures out how far she could take something before the 'defenses' that protect the Dragon Reborn's life stopped her. Everyone's life may depend on that," he said slowly, with regret in his voice. "I'm not happy about that, but I understand it. Where that logic comes from."

Click to shrink...

For all that I've held my tongue over the misandrist nonsense, as it's setting accurate, there's no way in hell any parent worth the name would react like this to anything brought up in that scene. Even disregarding the compulsion, the arranged murder attempt would have any parent plotting where to bury the body. And no amount of drivel about 'testing defenses' would matter half a damn. Especially since Moiraine is still entirely in the 'manipulate them "for their own good"' mindset.

 

[Haruchai]

Night

Click to shrink...

Great new chapter! So far, I've been able to stop myself from reading at AO3 or FF.net. I'm hoping the chapters at QQ will have the latest edits added in so I'm sticking to this one for now. LOL

Will edit comment once I get to read this chapter in a couple of days. Thanks for the update!

Lots of stuff going on. Liandrin and her scheming. Domon and his wies with the hot potatoe of a seal he somehow got. Even an interesting interlude with Tam where we discover that even now Egwene can be a schemer if she wants to.

 

[Adullahan]

Contains excerpts from the Great Hunt by Robert Jordan

---

Amadaine 2, 998 NE (June 9th)

We sat in silence for maybe ten minutes. I was meditating on the Oneness with the cart, examining its quite realistic construction, while Egwene had been writing something in the notebook Moiraine gave to her, charcoal pencil scratches like ripping paper in the silence. Something about the cart seemed so real, yet I knew it wasn't. Not really. It did not have to be a cart at all I had realised; it could be a giant bird or a boulder or even a ship. It could be any vehicle at all, and everyone knew ships travel the fastest.

I spoke up. "I think I can change the cart into a boat. Do you mind if I try?"

Egwene peered over the book and tried her best Aes Sedai look, the cool, calculating calm that said I was obviously being a fool. "What are you talking about?"

"I meditated on the nature of the cart and realized it wasn't a cart. It's a vehicle, that can be anything I consider a vehicle. I thought a ship would be the best way to travel. Or a giant wooden bird. What do you think? I was thinking about the river boat I stayed on until Whitebridge, but with oars rowing it. That would make it faster. I think it was called the Spray? Captain spoke weird, but I don't remember how, I just know that."

Egwene stared as if I were being strange. "Will it risk our lives?"

"It shouldn't. I'll have to test it though. I've never actually tried it, but I think it would be nice. I could make us comfortable seating instead of these planks."

"Are you sure it won't send us spilling into the Darkspace?" She looked nervously over the cart into the pitch blackness that loomed, seeming to fill every space that wasn't their cart or themselves.

"Yes." I lied. I was reasonably sure I could do it. I held on tight to Egwene, anyway.

She nodded, reluctantly.

We suddenly sat together on a replica of my father's comfortable couch, on the deck of a galley, and watched long oars like spiders' legs row rhythmically into the void of Darkspace. The twin masts held full sails, and glass lanterns hung regularly on the railing, lighting the ship in a warm glow. I leaned back into the couch, relaxing my arm around Egwene.

"See? Simple."

Egwene peered up and down the ship as it moved. "It's strange not to hear any sound."

"What do you think has made her so worried?" I asked her.

"Something dangerous. She wouldn't be worried otherwise." She paused. "Are you really just going to forgive Moiraine if she had a good reason, if she hated what she did as she did it, or regrets it now that the bonds worked on her for a time?"

I sighed. "When did anyone ever say anything about that? We're going to speak with her."

She looked at me as if I did not understand something obvious to her. "Rand, you're sweet on her. "

I frowned, annoyed at the implication. I'm not sweet on her. "I can be stern with her. "

"Half the time we're on our picnics, you two are lost in your own world talking of weaves and manipulating them safely, while you glance down her cleavage or stare into her eyes."

"Am I not allowed to admire my wife? I certainly admire your cleavage as often as I am able and I don't hear much complaints."

"I'm your wife! She's your wife, but she's also an Aes Sedai, always working on you with her schemes and her plans, even if she cares now. I just wish you would realize it."

There it was, the idea that lay at the heart of this.

"She's both, just as you will be soon enough, Egwene. My Aes Sedai wives, able to box my ears with the One Power when I am being foolish or when the sadistic mood stri- Ouch, hey, do not pinch me! Moiraine doesn't pinch me as we travel through Darkspace, risking our lives if my concentration breaks!"

"Well nobodies perfect, Rand!" she snapped back.

I considered that phrase. Nobodies perfect. Even the wise Aes Sedai can react badly and rashly. Even my childhood friend can act petulantly. I was a hypocrite. None of these women will be perfect and neither will I. I've probably acted poorly in ways I do not even know, but they and I are bonded to each other, in a way that cannot be broken. I really need to talk to Moiraine. She felt icy with focus and concentration.

"I know. I'm not perfect, far from it. But we have to live with Moiraine, and my father was right; I need to ask her why, learn her reasons. And then I will most likely forgive her, Egwene. We are bonded. I cannot keep being angry with her, and neither can you. I'm not say you need to forgive her when I do, but staying angry with her isn't… healthy for us three."

Egwene pursed her lips, considering my words, then sighed. "You are not wrong, it isn't healthy. If we're going to live together for hundreds of years, I cannot stay angry at her. But that doesn't change that she isn't working her schemes with you."

"And perhaps her schemes will benefit me? Have you ever thought of that?"

"Aes Sedai gifts are poisoned fruit, Rand. Everyone knows that."

"Again, you are going to be an Aes Sedai as well, Egwene," I deadpanned.

"But I won't be manipulating you, and if I do, it will be for your own good." I gave her a look. "She's doing it to make sure the White Tower has control over you, or she has control over you. And you're just letting her."

"What am I supposed to do? Deny the advice that makes sense, ignore the teachings that will help me survive, push her away?"

"Maybe! Maybe you should, Rand. Be more stubborn."

"I'm lost without Moiraine, Egwene. I wouldn't know the first step of what to do as the Dragon Reborn. I need her on my side, and sabotaging us doesn't sound like the right goal. And when you're trained as an Aes Sedai, I'll need you by my side as well, offering advice and teaching me how not to be a fool." I kissed her cheek. "I love you, Egwene al'Vere. That won't ever change, no matter how many wives I have. I'm glad I have you looking out for me. And I'm going to miss you terribly." I rested my head on her shoulder and she sighed.

"Fool. Just be careful with Moiraine. She may care for you, but she is an Aes Sedai too. I just… I don't want you to get hurt by her, again."

After an hour had passed, I opened the Door to the clearing right in front of a tall black cloaked man. It took me almost five seconds to realize I stared at a Myrddraal. Pale white skin, greasy black hair, eyeless face staring right at me, it would have chilled me to the bone with fear, if I was not ensconced in the void of the Oneness. The fear felt like a tide of water lapping at the Oneness, but unbidden a thought came. It cannot see me, a valuable insight that caused the fear to recede. To see the Halfman's face is to know fear, or so the Shienaran saying goes. I knew the fear and discarded it as unnecessary.

"Rand… that's a Fade." Egwenes' voice was trembling, her whole body trembling beside me on the couch.

The Myrddraal kneeled, lowering its head in obeisance.

"It is," I nodded, standing up onto the wooden deck and pulling out my sword and infusing it with Fire, the ancient Power-wrought blade turning a dull red-gray, flickering flames running along the edges. "It cannot see us, but if it knows of these Doors, it thinks a Forsaken is coming. That must be why it waits. I can kill it before it even knows who we are."

"Rand… we can keep going. Open up a door elsewhere. I… I don't want to lose you." Fear and worry were as loud, wailing sirens in the bond yet her concern seemed distant in the void, a far off buzzing compared to the fear of a Myrddraal's stare. I readied myself.

"Lan trained me for this, and I have one perfect chance to kill a Halfman and its Trollocs. Do not worry, Egwene, the Wheel will not let me die that easily. I'm the Dragon Reborn." At least, I hope it wouldn't, came the buzzing thought.

I walked right up to the Door, and thrust my sword quickly straight for its head. The Myrddraal tried to dodge once it realized the danger, but could not lean back far enough before my sword bit into its face. I burnt a trench through its high sallow cheek and out the other side of its skull, near its brainstem, killing it almost instantly. It writhed on the blade, cutting and burning more flesh, turning its head into a burnt mess unrecognizable as a face. The cursed creature would continue to writhe and flail until the sun set, unwilling to die unless the sun died with it. Egwene gasped, and made a gagging sound at the sight, I noticed absently. I had other tasks to accomplish.

I pull on the energy beneath my skin and become the so'shan, stepping out of the Door to a clearing filled with dying Trollocs and terrified Darkfriends, who look upon my almost human form with fear. I could feel the dying Trollocs like hot oil on my skin, and the rancid fetid stench of Fain was something I could feel in my bones. I felt powerful, saidin singing in my blood. I sliced off first one arm of the Myrddraal, then the other, ragged cauterized wounds that seeped acidic black blood, but kept the dying creature from catching me with a flailing blade. Now it would be no risk for me.

"Who's next?" I called out, the sword held out lazily in guard. Some part of me was eager to test my skill against these Darkfriends.

One of the closest men to me, a tired-looking Shienaran nobleman wearing sweaty feast clothes, unsheathed his sword, followed by two others who had the look of soldiers and seemed vaguely familiar. They nervously approached from each side. I focused on what Lan had taught me. Overwhelming force would win the night. The so'shan was stronger than a man, even a Warder when I go full out and my Power-wrought sword would deal any weapon or armor that gets in my way.

I charged with Boar Rushes Down The Mountain into Apple Blossoms in the Wind. The first strike cleaved through the sword with a spray of molten steel, removing his forearm with a sizzle of cauterization and a horrific scream that rent the night air. The Oneness trembled at the sight but I held on to it. Darkfriends deserve it, whispers a thought from the corner of my mind.

Second, third and fourth strikes finish off the other two, one lying dead near split in two, burnt internal organs spilling onto the ground, the other on the ground weeping wetly, holding his ruined sword-hand, mottled with burn scars, as blood filled his lungs. I could not hold back the natural, bodily reaction of throwing up at the sight, but I held onto the Oneness for dear life, and shakily wiped my mouth off with the back of my hand and readied my sword once more. A thought slid across the void like a pebble over pond ice. Light, Lan did not prepare me for the stench.

Darkfriends fled in pairs and groups into the night, as another man approached me, accepting my offer, stepping carefully amongst the dead Trollocs. An older Shienaran nobleman, with a gray topknot and a jagged scar through one milky eye. He bowed, speaking no words, as more and more Darkfriends chose to escape, simply holding the bow. Then he unsheathed his sword and swiftly charged me in complete silence but for his breathing, crossing the distance between us. He looked trained, and dangerous, far more dangerous than the tired noblemen. Not as dangerous as Lan, not nearly, but enough.

I changed the game on him and blew dragonfire. Rainbow flames engulfed the man, causing him to burn horrendously. His skin did not burn, his eyes did not pop, no physical injury happened, yet he burnt all the same, screaming, "The Light, it burns, it burns! Great Lord, save me!" Then he collapsed onto the ground, dead, skin clean of any mark.

The sound had caused the Oneness to shudder like a boat in a storm. I paused to breathe and calm my body down to be as still as my mind. I did not know what just happened, but something inside that man burnt until he died. I feared it was his soul.

"You are, yet you aren't al'Thor. I can smell it on you, a burning fire," came a voice about four paces behind me. An oily voice I remember from a faded memory of Lord Agelmar's office. I turned around to find the pale-faced hook-nosed man who started this whole mess all the way back on Winternight, many months ago: Padan Fain. The man who is the reason why I cannot remember the past, the man who is the reason why I was chased across the continent by the servants of Ba'alzamon, the reason for every curse and every gift. The Oneness popped like a balloon and cold rage filled me. I would kill him tonight. Let us see how he likes dragonfire.

"al'Thor wouldn't burn a man alive, nor slice a man in two with a flaming sword. He does not have antlers, nor scales, nor fire breath. He's a shepherd. What are you? I must have you, if only to cut you open and see how you tick." His voice held fascination and greed in equal measure, eyes pitch black and reflecting the dull red of my blade.

I have to kill him. Focus. You can do this, Rand. You don't need the Oneness. "I'm your death, you twisted little man," I replied, and took a running leap, half stumbling the Hummingbird Kisses the Honeyrose, my sword extended for his chest and time seemed to slow as my eyes caught the ruby-hilt dagger in his hand, his eyes off me and on the tip of my sword. I opened my mouth as wide as I could and vomited forth a torrent of prismatic flame that engulfed Fain as our blades met in a shower of blue sparks, and he fell back, stumbling.

My prismatic flame clung to the thing that used to be a man, causing his flesh to heave and sag and melt, undoing the very taint that bound Padan Fain to Creation. A horrible black fog began to pour out of every orifice, catching fire itself as whatever inhabited Fain's body fled the Flame Imperishable, screeching and howling as it ran away, still burning.

I recoiled in horror at the sight, falling to the ground, the weight of everything I had just done falling upon my shoulders. I just killed four men and a Myrddraal. I killed Padan Fain. A kind of emptiness filled me, but it was not the void. Almost as an afterthought, I wove a thread of Fire and Air to swiftly ignite each corpse, and rid the clearing of the putrid smells of battle. Only the best for Egwene, I thought, giggling. For almost a minute I sat and breathed, calming myself enough to try for the Oneness. Then I thought better, thought of what I had just done in the Oneness and pushed it away.

I called to the door for Egwene to come out, the final few Darkfriends left having fled when Padan Fain began to… melt, leaving us alone in the clearing. When she crossed the threshold. I could feel the chill of saidar on my skin and the Door winked out.

"Rand?" she asked carefully, a hint of fear and much more of concern filling the bond. I would be scared too if I saw Perrin or Mat go on a killing spree like I just did, stuck inside Darkspace alone. Light damn my fool head.

"Egwene, I'd hug you but…." Blood and ash and bodily fluids stained my clothing. "Light… I did not mean to kill them so cruelly. You must believe me. I just had to make sure. Lan said overwhelming force wins against the shaken, and I thought…"

"Oh Rand, I know." She walked gingerly over a pile of ash, and around dead Trollocs to where I stood and embraced me, anyway. "You survived, and that's what matters. That's all that matters. I don't care about Darkfriends, I care about you, Rand."

Questions started to fill my mind. "Why were they even here? How did Padan Fain escape?"

"I think we found out what Moiraine was worried about," Egwene replied, grimly.

Maybe half an hour later, Moiraine arrived, her horse picking its way delicately amongst the corpses, to where we sat leaning against each other on the heavy golden chest that protected the Horn of Valere, the ruby-hilted dagger of Shadar Logoth wrapped in a length of cloth beside our feet.

She breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of us. "Even though you felt fine, I worried… Nevermind that. What happened here?" She gracefully dismounted and walked closer.

"When I opened up a Door to the clearing we chose, a Myrddraal stood right before it, and kneeled waiting, as if it had seen a Door before and knew someone should come out. I think they expected a Forsaken, not the Dragon Reborn."

"And you slew it, I can see, from the Trolloc corpses."

"It was the perfect opportunity and ko'di leaves no room for fear. I slew four Darkfriends after, while the others, dozens of them, fled until only Padan Fain remained. I burnt him alive, and he melted like wax, but something fled him, something like a black fog that poured from his mouth and nose and ears as I killed him."

"Mordeth…" she muttered, quiet enough that I do not believe she meant me to hear, but did not say anything else, fear creeping like a spider in the bond. Another secret. I sighed.

"We wondered why they were even here until we found the chest with the Horn," Egwene added.

"Not even two hours ago traitors let a fist of Trollocs into the Fortress of Fal Dara itself, and stole the Horn of Valere, Padan Fain released, and Mat badly hurt with his dagger stolen. The Amyrlin and Lord Agelmar will be delighted beyond measure to learn that Lord Drake has rescued the Horn once again. We may even need to have a ceremony." She said the last sentence with a smile like a cat who caught the rat, preparing to settle in for a meal.

"Moiraine… I'm glad we saved the Horn, and I guess I am excited about seeing what a Shienaran ceremony is like, but I spoke with my father tonight, and I think we need to talk."

---

Hours later, in the very early morning of the 3rd of Amadine, we sat in my bed, just Moiraine and I. The canopy pulled around us and the soft light of saidar lit the bed in tiny white-blue globes. Moiraine had woven a ward against eavesdropping round the bed, worried about her sisters wondering what we were up to.

The whole fortress had been in controlled chaos when I first arrived, Trollocs lying in great mounds out in the stableyard, waiting to be tossed onto corpse fires. Servants cleaning blood stains on stone floors with soap and brushes, and corpses covered in white blankets lining certain corridors. Soldiers guarded every corner and gave a start when they saw us, me in my so'shan and Moiraine Sedai openly channeling. Aes Sedai seemed to pop up like mushrooms around us as Moiraine carried the chest on a platform of solid Air, pale-blue white and cold, until we all gathered with the Amyrlin Seat and Lord Agelmar in his office.

I was a hot commodity now, the Aes Sedai spending hours asking me all kinds of things, about how I killed the Fade—I lied and said I coated my sword in my flames and leapt down atop it from a tree. It isn't like there was a Warder in the room besides me and Lan to verify what I said was right—what I could do, if I ever felt sick while doing it, what my father is like, my mother, extended family, villagers etcetera. All manner of questions, relevant to the night and very much not. The Brown Sisters were so excited about me they very well may try to 'observe me in my natural habitat'. Even the Red Sisters were reluctant to speak against me, merely asking cloaked questions about saidin that I knew to avoid as I was not a clueless country boy anymore.

It had been tiring and long and now I just wanted to sleep, but I knew I could stay up for hours longer and this could not wait.

"Moiraine, my talk with my father brought up some things about our… what you told me the other week, about the bond. I wanted to talk to you about them."

She waited for me to gather my words, probably feeling my nervousness.

"First, why did you try to use that secret weave on me?"

She sighed, feeling regretful. "Part of it was me thinking that if I was to be bound so tightly to you with incessant Compulsion, the least I could do was bind you just as tightly back to me. That part was an act of petty revenge, unbecoming of an Aes Sedai. I also thought it necessary to bind you closer to me once more, as you are the Dragon Reborn. I cannot just let you wander to and fro, causing chaos and destruction. This was before I knew how amenable you'd become."

"When you started, as you said, trying to harm me, why was that exactly."

"At first I was concerned, because Compulsion is pretty obvious and must be active done to maintain the commands for any meaningful length of time, yet I could sense no weaves, nothing coming from you, that I could feel with saidar. I thought that if something so insidious could change my mind about you so easily, it could change my mind about other things. I discovered the defensive aspect almost immediately, when I could not write down the note to have Lan beat you up in a spar." She paused, before adding, embarrassed. "Not enough to be permanent, but enough to put you out of commission for a couple days. It was before I accepted the bond."

So her first two thoughts when wronged is, 'do it back to them and have my warder beat them up'. Good to know, I thought sarcastically.

"For the first couple days, I was merely testing the boundaries, to see how it would react to obvious and not so obvious threats. I forgot about my antipathy to the bond and researched it, finding it sickly fascinating. A One Power-less Compulsion to make me fall in love with the Dragon Reborn, crafted by a spirit of the Creator. Then I realized what I have now feared ever since; what would the Enemy do to circumvent such a defense, for no defense is perfect. Lan already told you about my most intricate scheme, and that almost succeeded. I felt sick doing so. My stomach twisting as I wrote the various pieces of the puzzle, but I had to try, had to see if it was possible, Rand. And I paid the price for it. I can feel the bond now, tightly wrapped around me as if I were a fly squirming in a spider's web, unwilling to release me now that I tried to pull so hard away from you, regardless of my good intentions."

She does have a fascination with the One Power. It is believable she would go from actually upset, to curious about the phenomena. I've seen her fascinated by the weaves of saidin as much as she hates to use the male half, only daring to touch it while I burn the Taint off as so'shan. "So the bond…. tightened somehow, because it thought you kept trying to kill me, even though it was all actually just to make sure someone else couldn't? And the attempted Compulsion was only partially an act of petty and unbecoming instinctual revenge. I want to make sure I get this right, Moiraine."

She nodded. "That is correct."

That isn't… quite a horrible as I thought, but it isn't an excuse.

"Why did you not just explain this before?"

"I tried to. You were upset, and rightfully so, at my attempted use of the weave, and could only focus on that, I believe. In the interest of full disclosure, I have used that weave on you twice. Once in the Two Rivers when I handed you the coin, creating a minor bond between us, and once before you bound me, to ensure that you would not leave me unbound and let Egwene drive a wedge between us. It was a rash action the second time, as I was desperate." Her voice became impassioned. "I saw a way to tie us together, to make sure I would not be dismissed from your side and I had to take it, for the sake of the world. I am sorry, now. I regret what I did. I wish I had not harmed you but I cannot change the past. All we can do is change how we treat each other in the future."

I knew, I knew she used it on me before. I knew it in my bones even if my mind did not acknowledge it. I knew it already, so instead of feeling angry I felt empty. A snake lay in my bed. A tamed snake, now, but a snake nonetheless. And despite everything I still cared for her, missed her latching onto me like a limpet when I made to leave in the morning, missed our occasional quiet talks at night, or her stories of the bizarre life of growing up a child noble, nothing at all like what I remembered of my life. Missed the ease in which I took comfort in her, before she tainted it by telling me what she had done. What was I to do, though?

Everything she said, it made sense. From a practical, objective standpoint to the average person, that didn't hate the Aes Sedai, the Dragon Reborn probably should be under the control of the Aes Sedai, trained and protected. Using the weave would guarantee that for Moiraine, so of course she used it. Aes Sedai used every trick in the book. I knew that. She was not my teacher then; she did not owe me anything. Yet it still hurts, but a quiet ache now.

I forgave her. It was probably foolish. Egwene certainly wouldn't be happy about it.

Soon we would be leaving, and soon Egwene would be gone. Everything was changing once again and all I would have is this woman beside me. I put an arm around Moiraine's shoulder and she buried her face in my chest, my skin soon wet with tears, as I spoke soft words into her hair. I slept dreamlessly, then fitfully when she later left the bed.

---

Moiraine sat with Siuan and Verin, having just finished the arduous task of healing Matrim Cauthon of his abominable connection to the dagger from Shadar Logoth and the evil that dwelt with it as the sun rose. "Now Rand could simply burn the dagger and we will simply be done with it."

"As you say, Daughter." The Amyrlin pressed fingers to her lips to stifle a yawn. "And now, Verin, if you will excuse me, I will just say a few words to Moiraine and then sleep a little. I suppose Agelmar will insist on feasting tonight since last night was spoiled. Your help was invaluable, Daughter. Please remember, say nothing of the nature of the boy's hurt to anyone. There are some of your sisters who would see the Shadow in him instead of a thing men made on their own."

There was no need to name the Red Ajah. And perhaps, Moiraine thought, the Reds were no longer the only ones of whom it was necessary to be wary.

"I will say nothing, of course, Mother." Verin bowed, but made no move toward the door. "I thought you might wish to see this, Mother." She pulled a small notebook, bound in soft, brown leather, from her belt. "What was written on the walls in the dungeon. There were few problems with translation. Most was the usual—blasphemy and boasting; Trollocs seem to know little else—but there was one part done in a better hand. An educated Darkfriend, or perhaps a Myrddraal. It could be only taunting, yet it has the form of poetry, or song, and the sound of prophecy. We know little of prophecies from the Shadow, Mother."

The Amyrlin hesitated only a moment before nodding. Prophecies from the Shadow, dark prophecies, had an unfortunate way of being fulfilled as well as prophecies from the Light. "Read it to me."

Verin ruffled through the pages, then cleared her throat and began in a calm, level voice.



"Daughter of the Night, she walks again.

The ancient war, she yet fights.

Her new lover she seeks, who shall serve her and die, yet serve still.

Who shall stand against her coming?

The Shining Walls shall kneel.

Blood feeds blood.

Blood calls blood.

Blood is, and blood was, and blood shall ever be.



The man who channels stands alone.

He gives his friends for sacrifice.

Two roads before him, one to death beyond dying, one to life eternal.

Which will he choose? Which will he choose?

What hand shelters? What hand slays?

Blood feeds blood.

Blood calls blood.

Blood is, and blood was, and blood shall ever be.



Luc came to the Mountains of Dhoom.

Isam waited in the high passes.

The hunt is now begun. The Shadow's hounds now course, and kill.

One did live, and one did die, but both are.

The Time of Change has come.

Blood feeds blood.

Blood calls blood.

Blood is, and blood was, and blood shall ever be.



The Watchers wait on Toman's Head.

The seed of the Hammer burns the ancient tree.

Death shall sow, and summer burn, before the Great Lord comes.

Death shall reap, and bodies fail, before the Great Lord comes.

Again the seed slays ancient wrong, before the Great Lord comes.

Now the Great Lord comes.

Now the Great Lord comes.

Blood feeds blood.

Blood calls blood.

Blood is, and blood was, and blood shall ever be.

Now the Great Lord comes."



There was a long silence when she finished.

Finally the Amyrlin said, "Who else has seen this, Daughter? Who knows of it?"

"Only Serafelle, Mother. As soon as we had copied it down, I had men scrub the walls. They didn't question; they were eager to be rid of it."

The Amyrlin nodded. "Good. Too many in the Borderlands can puzzle out Trolloc script. No need to give them something else to worry over. They have enough."

"What do you make of it?" Moiraine asked Verin in a careful voice. "Is it prophecy, do you think?"

Verin tilted her head, peering at her notes in thought. "Possibly. It has the form of some of the few dark prophecies we know. And parts of it are clear enough. It could still be only a taunt, though." She rested a finger on one line. " 'Daughter of the Night, she walks again.' That can only mean Lanfear is loose again. Or someone wants us to think she is."

"That would be something to worry us, Daughter," the Amyrlin Seat said, "if it were true. But Forsaken are still bound." She glanced at Moiraine, looking troubled for an instant before she schooled her features. "Even if the seals are weakening, Forsaken are still bound."

Lanfear. In the Old Tongue, Daughter of the Night. Nowhere was her real name recorded, but that was the name she had taken for herself, unlike most of the Forsaken, who had been named by those they betrayed. Some said she had really been the most powerful of the Forsaken, next to Ishamael, the Betrayer of Hope, but had kept her powers hidden. Too little was left from that time for any scholar to say for certain.

"With all the false Dragons that are appearing, it is not surprising someone would try to bring Lanfear into it." Moiraine's voice was as unruffled as her face, but inside herself she roiled. Only one thing for certain was known of Lanfear beside the name: before she went over to the Shadow, before Lews Therin Telamon met Ilyena, Lanfear had been his lover. A complication we do not need.

The Amyrlin Seat frowned as if she had had the same thought, but Verin nodded as if it were all just words. "Other names are clear, too, Mother. Lord Luc, of course, was brother to Tigraine, then the Daughter-Heir of Andor, and he vanished in the Blight. Who Isam is, or what he has to do with Luc, I do not know, however."

"We will find out what we need to know in time," Moiraine said smoothly. "There is no proof as yet that this is prophecy." She knew the name. Isam had been the son of Breyan, wife of Lain Mandragoran, whose attempt to seize the throne of Malkier for her husband had brought the Trolloc hordes crashing down. Breyan and her infant son had both vanished when the Trollocs overran Malkier. And Isam had been blood kin to Lan. Or is blood kin? I must keep this from him, until I know how he will react. Until we are away from the Blight. If he thought Isam were alive...

" 'The Watchers wait on Toman Head,' " Verin went on. "There are a few who still cling to the old belief that the armies Artur Hawkwing sent across the Aryth Ocean will return one day, though after all this time..." She gave a disdainful sniff. "The Do Miere A'vron, the Watchers Over the Waves, still have a… community is the best word, I suppose, on Toman Head, at Falme. And one of the old names for Artur Hawkwing was Hammer of the Light."

"Are you suggesting, Daughter," the Amyrlin Seat said, "that Artur Hawkwing's armies, or rather their descendants, might actually return after a thousand years?"

"There are rumors of war on Almoth Plain and Toman Head," Moiraine said slowly. "And Hawkwing sent two of his sons, as well as armies. If they did survive in whatever lands they found, there could well be many descendants of Hawkwing. Or none."

The Amyrlin gave Moiraine a guarded look, obviously wishing they were alone so she could demand to know what Moiraine was up to. Moiraine made a soothing gesture, and her old friend grimaced at her.

Verin, with her nose still buried in her notes, noticed none of it. "I don't know, Mother. I doubt it, though. We know nothing at all of those lands Artur Hawkwing set out to conquer. It's too bad the Sea Folk refuse to cross the Aryth Ocean. They say the Islands of the Dead lie on the other side. I wish I knew what they meant by that, but that accursed Sea Folk closemouthedness..." She sighed, still not raising her head. "All we have is one reference to 'lands under the Shadow, beyond the setting sun, beyond the Aryth Ocean, where the Armies of Night reign.' Nothing there to tell us if the armies Hawkwing sent were enough by themselves to defeat these 'Armies of the Night,' or even to survive Hawkwing's death. Once the War of the Hundred Years started, everyone was too intent on carving out their own part of Hawkwing's empire to spare a thought for his armies across the sea. It seems to me, Mother, that if their descendants still lived, and if they ever intended to return, they would not have waited so long."

"Then you believe it is not prophecy, Daughter?"

"Now, 'the ancient tree,' " Verin said, immersed in her own thoughts. "There have always been rumors—no more than that—that while the nation of Almoth still lived, they had a branch of Avendesora, perhaps even a living sapling. And the banner of Almoth was 'blue for the sky above, black for the earth below, with the spreading Tree of Life to join them.' Of course, Taraboners call themselves the Tree of Man, and claim to be descended from rulers and nobles in the Age of Legends. And Domani claim descent from those who made the Tree of Life in the Age of Legends. There are other possibilities, but you will note, Mother, that at least three center around Almoth Plain and Toman Head."

The Amyrlin's voice became deceptively gentle. "Will you make up your mind, Daughter? If Artur Hawkwing's seed is not returning, then this is not prophecy and doesn't matter a rotted fish head what ancient tree is meant."

"I can only give you what I know, Mother," Verin said, looking up from her notes, "and leave the decision in your hands. I believe the last of Artur Hawkwing's foreign armies died long ago, but because I believe it does not make it so. The Time of Change, of course, refers to the end of an Age, and the Great Lord—"

The Amyrlin slapped the tabletop like a thunderclap. "I know very well who the Great Lord is, Daughter. I think you had better go now." She took a deep breath, and took hold of herself visibly. "Go, Verin. I do not want to become angry with you. I do not want to forget who it was had the cooks leave sweetcakes out at night when I was a novice."

"Mother," Moiraine said, "there is nothing in this to suggest prophecy. Anyone with a little wit and a little knowledge could put together as much, and no one has ever said Myrddraal do not have a sly wit."

"And of course," Verin said calmly, "the man who channels must be one of the three young men traveling with you, Moiraine. Probably the chinnar'veren. I imagine that's how he burnt the corpses of the Darkfriends to white ash, instead of that fire that only burns the Shadow. That young woman he spends time with could not channel a flame that powerful yet."

Moiraine stared in shock. Not aware of the world? I am a fool. Before she realized what she was doing, she had reached out to the pulsing glow she always felt there waiting, to the True Source. The One Power surged along her veins, charging her with energy, muting the sheen of Power from the Amyrlin Seat as she did the same. Moiraine had never before even thought of wielding the Power against another Aes Sedai. We live in perilous times, and the world hangs in the balance, and what must be done, must be done. It must. Oh, Verin, why did you have to put your nose in where it does not belong?

Verin closed her book and slipped it back behind her belt, then looked from one woman to the other. She could not but be aware of the nimbus surrounding each of them, the light that came from touching the True Source. Only someone trained in channeling herself could see the glow, but there was no chance of any Aes Sedai missing it in another woman.

A hint of satisfaction settled on Verin's face, but no sign that she realized she had hurled a lightning bolt. She only looked as if she had found another piece that fit in a puzzle. "Yes, I thought it must be so. Moiraine could not do this alone, and who better to help than her girlhood friend who used to sneak down with her to snitch sweetcakes." She blinked. "Forgive me, Mother. I should not have said that."

"Verin, Verin." The Amyrlin shook her head wonderingly. "You accuse your sister—and me?—of… I won't even say it. And you are worried that you've spoken too familiarly to the Amyrlin Seat? You bore a hole in the boat and worry that it's raining. Think what you are suggesting, Daughter."

It is too late for that, Siuan, Moiraine thought. If we had not panicked and reached for the Source, perhaps then... But she is sure, now. "Why are you telling us this, Verin?" she said aloud. "If you believe what you say, you should be telling it to the other sisters, to the Reds in particular."

Verin's eyes widened in surprise. "Yes. Yes, I suppose I should. I hadn't thought of that. But then, if I did, you would be stilled, Moiraine, and you, Mother, and the man gentled. No one has ever recorded the progression in a man who wields the Power. When does the madness come, exactly, and how does it take him? How quickly does it grow? Can he still function with his body rotting around him? For how long? Unless he is gentled, what will happen to the young man, whichever he is, will happen whether or not I am there to put down the answers. If he is watched and guided, we should be able to keep some record with reasonable safety, for a time, at least. And, too, there is The Karaethon Cycle." She calmly returned their startled looks. "I assume, Mother, that he is the Dragon Reborn? I cannot believe you would do this—leave walking free a man who can channel—unless he was the Dragon."

She thinks only of the knowledge, Moiraine thought wonderingly. The culmination of the direst prophecy the world knows, perhaps the end of the world, and she cares only about the knowledge. But she is still dangerous, for that.

"Who else knows of this?" The Amyrlin's voice was faint, but still sharp. "Serafelle, I suppose. Who else, Verin?"

"No one, Mother. Serafelle is not really interested in anything that someone hasn't already set down in a book, preferably as long ago as possible. She thinks there are enough old books and manuscripts and fragments scattered about, lost or forgotten, to equal ten times what we have gathered in Tar Valon. She feels certain there is enough of the old knowledge still there to be found for—"

"Enough, Sister," Moiraine said. She loosed her hold on the True Source, and after a moment felt the Amyrlin do the same. It was always a loss to feel the Power draining away, like blood and life pouring from an open wound. A part of her wanted to hold on, but unlike some of her sisters, she made it a point of self-discipline not to grow too fond of the feeling. "Sit down, Verin, and tell us what you know and how you found it out. Leave out nothing."

As Verin took a chair—with a look to the Amyrlin for permission to sit in her presence—Moiraine watched her sadly.

"It is unlikely," Verin began, "that anyone who hasn't studied the old records thoroughly would notice anything except that you were behaving oddly. Forgive me, Mother. It was nearly twenty years ago, with Tar Valon besieged, that I had my first clue, and that was only..."

Light help me, Verin, how I loved you for those sweetcakes, and for your bosom to weep on. But I will do what I must do. I will. I must.

---

Amadaine 3, 998 NE (June 10th)

Pounding on the door woke me up. Moiraine was gone, which hurt a little, but did not surprise me once I realized how light it was outside. "Who is it?" I called out as I sat up in bed.

Lan strode in, pushing the door behind him with his boot heel. As usual, he wore his sword over a plain coat of green that was nearly invisible in the woods. This time, though, he had a wide, golden cord tied high around his left arm, the fringed ends hanging almost to his elbow. On the knot was pinned a golden crane in flight, the symbol of Malkier.

"Up, sheepherder. The Amyrlin Seat wishes to see you."

I froze. She knew what I was and now she sought me out. I had to prepare. I burnt every emotion, every thought, every feeling, even my sense of heat and cold in the fire, and assumed the Oneness while I dressed myself quickly, choosing a scarlet silk shirt. Tangled, long-thorned briars climbed each red sleeve in a thick, gold-embroidered line, and ran around each cuff. Golden herons stood on the collars, which were edged with gold. I put on a pair of trousers, embroidered dark red roses nearly invisible against the black fabric.

"Your colors," he murmured. "Good." Red, Gold and Black. The colors of the Dragon, and the Dragon's Fang. I guess they really are my colors.

"Just to make sure, this is not something I can skip out on, right?"

"You're days and dead Darkfriends too late for that and you know it. Wear your nice black boots, not those mudsplattered ones. Wear a sword too."

"Sorry," I muttered embarrassed, having instinctually reached for my usual pair. As I put the nice ones on I asked him, "Why the sword?"

"It is Warder tradition. A Warder is never without a way to defend his Aes Sedai, even in a meeting with the Amyrlin Seat. That was why I had you wear it yesterday, too."

"So I won't get kicked out of the women's apartments if I enter without Moiraine?" They had very specific rules, including no weapons allowed.

"No. The Amyrlin is not afraid of any sword," he said with something that could be a smile. "Better hope she is not afraid of you either. Now, when you enter, you will give her proper respect, but you will look her in the eye. Follow the instructions I gave you yesterday and tuck in your shirt."

Lan kept up a running flow of instructions while I shrugged into the red coat and buckled on my sword. What to say and to whom, and what not to say. What to do, and what not. How to move, even.

"But why all this? What does it mean? Why do I put my hand over my heart if the Amyrlin Seat stands up? Why refuse anything but water—not that I want to eat a meal with her—then dribble some on the floor and say 'The land thirsts'? And if she asks how old I am, why tell her how long it is since I was given the sword?"

"Three drops, sheepherder, don't pour it. You sprinkle three drops only. You can understand later so long as you remember now. Think of it as upholding custom. The Amyrlin will do with you as she must. If you believe you can avoid it, then you believe you can fly to the moon like Lenn. You can't escape, but maybe you can hold your own for a while, and perhaps you can keep your pride, at least. The Light burn me, I am probably wasting my time, but I've nothing better to do. Moiraine did her part and I have to do mine. Hold still." From his pocket the Warder produced a long length of wide, fringed golden cord and tied it around my left arm in a complicated knot. On the knot he fastened a red-enameled pin, an eagle with its wings spread. "I had that made to give you, and now is as good a time as any. That will make them think." There was no doubt about it now. The Warder was smiling.

I looked down at the pin curiously. Caldazar. The Red Eagle of Manetheren. The lost kingdom the Two Rivers descends from, two thousand years later. "A thorn to the Dark One's foot," I murmured, "and a bramble to his hand." I looked at the Warder. "Manetheren's long dead and forgotten, Lan. It's just a name in a book, now. There is only the Two Rivers. Whatever else I am, what comes from the Two Rivers is a shepherd and a farmer. That's all."

"Well, the sword that could not be broken was shattered in the end, sheepherder, but it fought the Shadow to the last. There is one rule, above all others, for being a man. Whatever comes, face it on your feet. Now, are you ready? The Amyrlin Seat waits."

I walked stiff-legged and nervous at first, beside the Warder. Face it on your feet. It was easy for Lan to say. He had not been summoned by the Amyrlin Seat. He was not wondering if he would be gentled before the day was done, or worse. I felt as if I had something caught in my throat; I could not swallow, and I wanted to, badly.

Moiraine will not let them gentle me. We will run first. The Amyrlin will not gentle me, she needs me still. I told myself this mantra, over and over, as we walked.

The corridors bustled with people, servants going about their morning chores, warriors wearing swords over lounging robes. A few young boys carrying small practice swords stayed near their elders, imitating the way they walked. No sign remained of the fighting, but an air of alertness clung even to the children. Grown men looked like cats waiting for a pack of rats.

Ingtar gave Rand and Lan a peculiar look, almost troubled, opening his mouth, then saying nothing as they passed him. Kajin, tall and lean and sallow, pumped his fists over his head and shouted, "Tai'shar Malkier! Tai'shar Manetheren!" True blood of Malkier. True blood of Manetheren.

I jumped. Light, why did he say that? Don't be a fool, I told myself. They all know about Manetheren here. They know every old story, if it has fighting in it.

Lan raised his fists in reply. "Tai'shar Shienar!"

As they approached the women's apartments, Lan suddenly snapped, "Cat Crosses the Courtyard!"

I instinctively assumed the walking stance as I had been taught, back straight but every muscle loose, as if I hung from a wire at the top of my head. It was a relaxed, almost arrogant, saunter. Relaxed on the outside; I certainly did not feel it inside. We rounded the last corridor in step with each other.

The women at the entrance to the women's apartments looked up calmly as they came closer. Some sat behind slanted tables, checking large ledgers and sometimes making an entry. Others were knitting, or working with needle and embroidery hoop. Ladies in silks kept this watch, as well as women in livery. The arched doors stood open, unguarded except for the women. No more was needed. No Shienaran man would enter uninvited, but any Shienaran man stood ready to defend that door if needed, and he would be aghast at the need.

One of the Lady Amalisa's attendants, Nisura, a round-faced woman, put aside her embroidery and stood as they came to a stop. Her eyes flickered across their swords, and her mouth tightened, but she did not mention them. All the women stopped what they were doing to watch, silent and intent.

"Honor to you both," Nisura said, bowing her head slightly. "The Amyrlin Seat awaits you." She motioned, and two other ladies—not servants; they were being honored—stepped forward for escorts. The women bowed, a hair more than Nisura had, and motioned them through the archway. They both gave Rand a sidelong glance, then did not look at him again. Guess being chinnar'veren doesn't get you much here, I thought wryly.

Inside, we got the looks I expected—two men in the women's apartments where men were rare—and our swords caused more than one raised eyebrow, but none of the women spoke. We two men left knots of conversation in our path, soft murmurs too low for me to make out. Lan strode along as if he did not even notice. I kept pace behind our escorts and wished I could hear.

And then we reached the Amyrlin Seat's chambers, with three Aes Sedai in the hall outside the door. The tall Aes Sedai, Leane, held her golden-flamed staff. I did not know the other two, one of the White Ajah and one Yellow by their fringe. Smooth Aes Sedai faces, with knowing eyes. They studied me with arched eyebrows and pursed lips. The women who had brought Lan and Rand curtsied, handing us over to the Aes Sedai.

Leane looked me over with an unreadable gaze, her voice clipped. "And what have you brought me today, Lan Gaidin, the heroic Lord Drake? Moiraine better be glad she bonded him early, otherwise Alanna Sedai would have snatched him right up. She likes them young, and she's quick enough to do it before he can breathe."

My skin flushed, but I ignored her words, following Lan's instructions and speaking authoritatively. "I am Rand al'Thor, son of Tam al'Thor, of the Two Rivers, which once was Manetheren. As I have been summoned by the Amyrlin Seat, Leane Sedai, so do I come. I stand ready."

She gave me a thoughtful look. "A Lord out of the Two Rivers? I thought there had been a mistake when I first heard the tale, Lan Gaidin. Now perhaps it is not so wild."

"He is a man, Leane Sedai," Lan said firmly, "no more, and no less. We are what we are."

The Aes Sedai shook her head. "The world grows stranger every day. I suppose the blacksmith will be heir to a lost crown and speak in High Chant. Wait here." She vanished inside to announce them.

She was only gone a few moments, but I was uncomfortably aware of the eyes of the remaining Aes Sedai. I tried to return their gaze levelly, the way Lan had told him to, and they put their heads together, whispering. What are they saying? What do they know?

Leane returned, motioning me to go in. When Lan started to follow, she thrust her staff across his chest, stopping him. "Not you, Lan Gaidin. Moiraine Sedai has a task for you. Her drake will be safe enough with her in there."

The door swung shut behind me, but not before he heard Lan's voice, fierce and strong, but low for my ear alone. "Tai'shar Manetheren!" True blood of Manetheren. I took comfort, steeling myself.