Towers of Midnight (The Wheel of Time, #13)

by Robert Jordan

“Have you seen Rand recently?” Egwene asked. “The Car’a’carn has embraced death,” Amys said. “He has given up trying to be as strong as the stones, and has instead achieved the strength of the wind.” Bair nodded. “Almost, we will have to stop calling him a child.” She smiled. “Almost.”

“The Aes Sedai keep implying that we should all be training in the White Tower,” Amys said. Her tone indicated what she thought of that idea. “They drone on, as noisy as a blind chippabird that cannot tell if it’s day or night. They need to see that we will never do such a thing. Tell them that you’re sending women to us to study our ways so we can understand one another. It is only the truth; they needn’t know that you also expect them to be strengthened by the experience.”

“I’m happy for you, Elayne,” Egwene said. “And for Rand. I’m not certain what I think of the timing. You should know that Rand is planning to break the remaining seals upon the Dark One’s prison, and in so doing, risk releasing him upon the world.” Elayne pursed her lips. “Well, there are only three seals left, and they’re crumbling.” “So what if he is running that risk?” Nynaeve said. “The Dark One will be freed when the final seal crumbles; best if it happens when Rand is there to battle him.” “Yes, but the seals? That’s foolhardy. Surely Rand

“Maybe they caused it,” Naeff said softly. She opened her eyes to see him nodding toward the shadows of a building nearby. “The Fades. There are three of them there, Nynaeve Sedai, watching us.” “Naeff…” she said, frustrated. Telling him the Fades weren’t real didn’t help. I have to do something, she thought. Help someone. “Naeff, stand still.” She took hold of his arm and Delved him. He looked at her, surprised, but didn’t object. She could see the madness, like a dark network of veins digging into his mind. It seemed to pulse, like a small beating heart. She’d found similar corruption recently in other Asha’man. Her skill with Delving was improving, her weaves more refined, and she could find things once hidden to her. She had no idea how to fix what was wrong, though. Anything should be Healable, she told herself. Anything but death itself.

“I…I think I just Healed your madness.” Well, she’d done something to it. What she’d done hadn’t been any standard Healing, and hadn’t even used Healing weaves. But it had worked, it seemed. Naeff smiled deeply, seeming bewildered. He took her hand with both of his, then knelt before her, growing teary-eyed. “For months, I have felt as if I were always being watched. As if I would be murdered the moment I turned my back on the shadows. Now I…Thank you. I need to go find Nelavaire.”

“I think I actually believe you.” She was surprised to realize it. “Do you, Nynaeve?” he asked, sounding oddly relieved. “Do you really?” “I do.” “Then try to convince Egwene. She will stop me, if she can.” “Rand…she has called me back to the Tower. I’ll need to go today.” Rand looked saddened. “Well, I suspected that she might do that eventually.” He took Nynaeve by the shoulder in an odd gesture. “Don’t let them ruin you, Nynaeve. They’ll try.” “Ruin me?” “Your passion is part of you,” Rand said. “I tried to be like them, though I wouldn’t have admitted it. Cold. Always in control. It nearly destroyed me. That is strength to some, but it is not the only type of strength. Perhaps you could learn to control yourself a little more, but I like you as you are. It makes you genuine. I would not see you become another ‘perfect’ Aes Sedai with a painted mask of a face and no care for the feelings and emotions of others.”

Faile made no accusations. Her mother had cautioned that a good quartermaster was too valuable to toss into prison, particularly when the next man was likely to be half as capable and equally corrupt. Faile’s duty was not to expose or embarrass Bavin. It was to make him worried enough that he kept himself in check.

“If the world itself is going to die,” Faile said, “is this not the time when a man must take time to appreciate what he has? Before it is all taken?”

“We will go,” Bethamin said firmly. She was determined to learn, it seemed. “Yes,” Seta said, “though I sometimes think it might be better to simply let us die, as opposed to…Well, what we are, what we represent, means that we are a danger to the Empire.” Mat nodded. “Tuon is a sul’dam,” he said. The two women looked down. “Go with the Aes Sedai,” Mat said. “I’ll give you your own horses, so you don’t have to rely on them. Learn to channel. That’ll be more use than dying. Maybe someday you two can convince Tuon of the truth. Help me find a way to fix this without causing the Empire to collapse.”

“I’ll give them orders to do as you say,” Mat said, turning to her. “So you’ll have people to command about and make set up your tents. But there’s a condition attached.” Teslyn raised an eyebrow. “I want you to tell the Amyrlin something,” he said. “If it’s Egwene, this should be easy. But even if it isn’t, you tell her. The White Tower has something of mine, and it’s nearly time that I reclaimed it. I don’t want to, but what I want never seems to matter a whisker, these days. So I’ll be coming, and I don’t mean to be bloody turned away.” He smiled. “Use that exact language.”

“Tradition among us Two Rivers folk.” “Never heard of that tradition.” “It’s very obscure.” “Ah, I see. And what did you do to those buns?” “Sprinklewort,” Mat said. “It’ll turn her mouth blue for a week, maybe two. And she won’t share the sweetbuns with anyone, except maybe her Warders. Joline is addicted to the things. She must have eaten seven or eight bags’ worth since we got to Caemlyn.” “Nice,” Thom said, knuckling his mustache. “Childish, though.”

“Min said your babies would be strong and healthy,” Birgitte said. “Not that you would be healthy when they arrived.” “How else would they come?” “I’ve seen people knocked in the head so hard that they’re never the same, girl,” Birgitte said. “Some live for years, but never speak another word and have to be fed broth and live with a bedpan. You could lose an arm or two and still bear healthy children. And what about the people around you? Give you no thought to the danger you could cause them?”

“I speak only for myself, Sumeko,” Alise said. “And those who would join me. The Kin as we knew them are no more. We were dominated by our need to remain secret, and that is gone now.” Sumeko grew silent. “You mean to join the Aes Sedai, my friend,” Alise said, laying a hand on her arm. “But they will not have me, nor will I have them. I need something else, and others will as well.” “But to tie yourselves to the Crown of Andor….” “We tie ourselves to the White Tower,” Alise said. “But live in Caemlyn. Both have their benefits. We aren’t strong enough to stand on our own. Andor is as good a place as any. It has the favor of the White Tower, and the favor of the Dragon Reborn. Mostly, it is here, and so are we.”

Finsas

“I will make the challenge formally this evening, before the entire camp,” Faile said, keeping her voice even. “You will have one day to respond or leave.” “I will not be a party to this foolishness.” “You already are,” Faile said, rising. “This is what you set in motion the moment you let those rumors begin.”

“You haven’t said how we could get rid of the rumors.” “There may be a method,” Berelain said. “But it will be distasteful.” Faile raised an eyebrow. “We will need to be seen as friends,” Berelain explained. “Fighting, being at odds, this will fuel the rumors. But if we are seen spending time with one another, it will disarm them. That, mixed with a formal renunciation on my part of the rumors, will likely be enough.”

“I’ve heard much about you, Master Cauthon,” Guybon said. He seemed like one of those stiff soldiers. Solid, but maybe a little too solid. Like a bow without enough spring to it. “From who?” Mat asked. “Elayne?” “Mostly rumors around the city. People like to talk about you.” They do? Mat thought. “I didn’t do half of what they say,” he grumbled, “and the other half wasn’t my bloody fault.”

She seemed to have gained a little weight. Best not to mention that. Or should he? Sometimes women got angry when you mentioned that they looked different, and sometimes they got angry if you did not notice.

“Wait,” Mat said. “What?” He glanced again at Elayne’s stomach. Thom rolled his eyes. “Don’t you ever listen when you’re in the city gambling?” “I listen,” Mat muttered. “Usually.” He looked accusingly at Elayne. “Does Rand know about this?” She laughed. “I should hope he isn’t too surprised.” “Burn me!” Mat said. “He’s the father!”

She looked up at him, and…was she crying again? What had he done? “Mat, I could kiss you,” she declared. “This is exactly what I needed!” Mat blinked. What? Birgitte chuckled. “First Norry, now Mat. You’ll have to watch yourself, Elayne. Rand will be jealous.”

To the side, Thom was grinning. “What are you so happy about?” Mat demanded. “Nothing,” Thom said. “You do your mother proud, Elayne.” “Thank you, Thom,” she said, favoring him with a smile. “Whose side are you on?” Mat said. “Everyone’s,” Thom said.

“You get it for one day if you agree to start production on a prototype dragon this evening. I don’t care what you do with the medallion—study it, write a bloody book about it, wear it about. But you return it tomorrow. Your word on it.” Birgitte whistled slowly. Elayne had wanted to get her hands on that medallion the moment she discovered he had it. Of course, so had every other bloody Aes Sedai that Mat had met. “I get the Band in at least a one-year contract,” Elayne said, “renewable. We’ll pay you whatever you were earning in Murandy.” How did she know about that? “You can cancel,” she continued, “as long as you provide a month’s warning—but I keep four dragons out of five. And any men who wish to join the Andoran military must be given the chance.” “I want one out of four,” Mat said. “And a new serving man.” “A what?” Elayne said. “A serving man,” Mat said. “You know, to take care of my clothing. You’d do a better job of picking than I would.” Elayne looked at his coat, then up at his hair. “That,” she said, “I’ll give you regardless of how the other negotiations go.” “One out of four?” Mat said. “I get the medallion for three days.”

“I agree to that,” Mat said, “but Elayne, the Band has to be free to fight in the Last Battle, however Rand wants. And Aludra has to supervise the dragons. I have a feeling that she’ll insist that she remain with you if the Band breaks off from Andor.”

“We’d have to do what you said, Elayne,” Mat replied. “I won’t have it. Some battles aren’t worth fighting, and I’m going to decide when my men put themselves at risk. That’s that.”

“Every man should have that option,” he replied. “Few men use it wisely.” “We want it anyway,” Mat said. “We demand it.”

“It is important to me, Rosil,” Nynaeve explained, “that I not give any indication of disrespect for the Amyrlin. She named me Aes Sedai. To act as if I were merely Accepted would be to undermine her words. This test is important—when the Amyrlin raised me, she never said that I need not be tested. But I am Aes Sedai.”

“For what reason should you be tried?” “To show that I am worthy,” Nynaeve said. Several of the women frowned, including Egwene. Those weren’t the right words—Nynaeve was supposed to say that she wanted to learn whether or not she was worthy. But she was already Aes Sedai, so by definition she was worthy. She just had to prove it to the others. Rosil stumbled, but continued. “And…for what would you be found worthy?” “To wear the shawl I have been given,” Nynaeve said. She didn’t say it to be arrogant. Once again, she simply stated the truth, as she saw it. Egwene had raised her. She wore the shawl already. Why pretend that she didn’t?

She had completed the first of the hundred weaves. She knew this, but nothing else.

She’d completed forty-seven of the hundred weaves. She knew that, but nothing else. Other than the fact that somebody very badly wanted her to fail.

It grew worse. She left people to be drowned, beheaded and buried alive. One of the worst was when she had to form a weave while villagers were consumed by enormous spiders with bright red fur and crystalline eyes. She hated spiders. Sometimes she would appear naked. That stopped bothering her. Though she couldn’t remember anything specific but the number of the weave she was on, she understood—somehow—that nudity was nothing compared to the terrors she’d seen.

Nynaeve began to walk toward the star. Calm. Measured. That was stupid. An Aes Sedai had to be calm. She knew that. But an Aes Sedai also needed to be able to act, to do what was needed to help those who needed it. It didn’t matter what it cost her personally. These people needed her. So she started to run. Even that didn’t feel like enough. She ran to get to the star, but still she left people she loved to fight alone. She knew she couldn’t channel until she reached the six-pointed star. That made absolutely no sense. Shadowspawn were attacking. She had to channel!

So sick, so weak. How could she continue? No. They will not beat me.

It was a white dress with the colors of the Ajahs banded at the bottom. The clothing of an Accepted in the White Tower. She dropped it. “I am Aes Sedai,” she said, stepping over the robe and pushing open the door. Better to go naked than to give in to that lie.

This was a test. She could remember that now. It was a test to force her to choose between him and the White Tower. She’d made that choice once, but she’d known it wasn’t real. This wasn’t real either, was it? She raised a hand to her head, mind cloudy. That is my husband down there, she thought. No. I will not play this game!

“No.” She grabbed him by the arm and, heaving, hauled him down the slope. Together, they tumbled through the doorway, and… …and gasping, Nynaeve fell from the ter’angreal. She collapsed alone on the cold floor, naked, shaking. In a flood, she remembered it all. Each and every horrible moment of the test. Each betrayal, each frustrating weave. The impotence, the screams of the children, the deaths of people she knew and loved. She wept against the floor, curling up.

“This test,” Barasine said, “is meant to ensure that a woman is capable of dedicating herself to a greater task. To see that she can ignore the distractions of the moment and seek a higher good.” Nynaeve sniffed. “I completed the weaves I needed to. I maintained my focus. Yes, I broke my calm—but I kept a cool enough head to complete my tasks. One should not demand calmness for the mere sake of calmness, and a prohibition on running when there are people you need to save is foolish. “My goal in this test was to prove that I deserve to be Aes Sedai. Well, then, I could argue that the lives of the people I saw were more important than gaining that title. If losing my title is what would be required to save someone’s life—and if there were no other consequences—I’d do it. Every time. Not saving them wouldn’t be serving a higher good; it would just be selfish.”

“I realized that if I had to choose between becoming an Aes Sedai and going with Lan, I’d choose Lan. What people call me doesn’t change anything inside of me. Lan, however…he is more than a title. I can still channel—I can still be me—if I never become Aes Sedai. But I would never be myself again if I abandoned him. The world changed when I married him.” She felt…freed, somehow, realizing it and saying it. “Pray the others don’t realize that,” Egwene said. “It would not be good for them to determine that you would place anything before the White Tower.” “I wonder if,” Nynaeve said, “we sometimes put the White Tower—as an institution—before the people we serve. I wonder if we let it become a goal in itself, instead of a means to help us achieve greater goals.”

“Giving an oath like that would be foolish,” Nynaeve said. “I could find myself in a situation where people would die if I didn’t use it. Light! I’ll be fighting in the Last Battle alongside Rand. What if I were to get to Shayol Ghul and discover that, without balefire, I could not help the Dragon stop the Dark One? Would you have me choose between a foolish oath and the fate of the world?”

“You have something that belongs to me,” Nynaeve said. “Hmm…That depends on opinion, child.” Myrelle frowned. “I was raised today,” Nynaeve said. “Formally. I passed the testing. We are equals now, Myrelle.” She left the second part unsaid—that Nynaeve was the stronger of the two. Not truly equals, then. “Return tomorrow,” Myrelle said. “I am occupied.” She moved to turn back into the tent. Nynaeve caught the woman’s arm. “I have never thanked you,” she said, though she had to grit her teeth to get the words out. “I do so now. He lives because of you. I realize that. However, Myrelle, this is not a time to push me. Today, I have seen people I love slaughtered, I have been forced to consign children to living torment. I have been burned, scourged and harrowed. “I swear to you, woman, if you do not pass me Lan’s bond this very moment, I will step into that tent and teach you the meaning of obedience. Do not press me. In the morning, I swear the Three Oaths. I’m free of them for one more night.”

“Maighdin!” Faile said. “Are you all right?” The sun-haired serving woman turned to Perrin, looking dazed. “If you please, my Lord, will you repeat what you said?” “What?” Perrin asked. “Woman, what’s wrong?” “You said one of the Forsaken had taken up residence in Andor,” Maighdin said, voice calm. She gave him as sharp a look as he’d gotten from any Aes Sedai. “Are you certain of what you heard?”

“Please, my Lord, let me remain a simple secretary. You see, one of the easiest ways to tell if someone is not what he seems is to check his wages.” He chuckled. “I’ve uncovered more than one assassin or spy that way, yes I have. No pay is needed. The opportunity to work with you is its own payment.” Perrin shrugged, but nodded, and Balwer withdrew.

Yoeli

“They say you were as single-minded as Goldeneyes,” she said softly. “That you would not rest, that you barely took time to eat, that you spent every moment searching for a way to free me.” Tallanvor said nothing. “I’ve never had a man do that for me,” she continued. “Taringail saw me as a pawn, Thom as a beauty to be hunted and romanced, and Gareth as a queen to be served. But none of them made me their entire life, their heart. I think Thom and Gareth loved me, but as something to be held and cared for, then released. I didn’t think you’d ever let go.” “I won’t,” Tallanvor said softly.

“You always were the passionate one, Gawyn. Like your mother and your sister. Impulsive, never calculating like your brother.” “Galad doesn’t calculate,” Gawyn said. “He just acts.” “No,” Bryne said. “Perhaps I spoke wrong—Galad may not be calculating, but he isn’t impulsive. To be impulsive is to act without careful thought; Galad has given everything a great deal of thought.

“She wanted to come along to light them. Herself! Burn me, but that was a tough argument to end. But we’ve got a whole lot of nightflowers.” He tapped the sack beside his chair with the edge of his foot. “You brought them?” Thom asked. “I wanted to keep them close,” Mat said. “And she only gave them to me today. They’re not going to explode by accident, Thom. That doesn’t happen very often.” “Well at least move them back from the hearth!” Thom said. He glanced at his pipe and cursed, then scooted his chair a few inches from Mat.

That didn’t stop her heart from twisting each time one of those memories faded. Light! If she couldn’t be with Gaidal this time around, couldn’t she at least remember him? It was as if the Pattern didn’t know what to do with her. She’d been forced into this life, shoving other threads aside, taking an unexpected place. The Pattern was trying to weave her in. What would happen when all of the memories faded? Would she remember waking up as an adult with no history? The thought terrified her as no battlefield ever had.

Walishen.”

“A beggar,” she said. “With a sword?” Sergeant Macer scratched his head. “I guess that is kind of odd.” “You could charm the helmet off a general on a battlefield, couldn’t you, Mat?” she said. “Mat?” the man asked in a familiar voice. “I don’t know what you mean, my good woman. My name is Garard, a simple beggar who has a quite interesting past, if you care to listen to it—” She eyed him with a firm gaze. “Oh, bloody ashes, Birgitte,” he complained, taking off the scarf. “I only wanted to get warm for a spell.” “And win the coin off my men.” “A friendly game never hurt a man,” Mat said.

“I went in to ask them to save the life of my love,” she said. “It came after the battle of Lahpoint Hills, where we led the Buchaner rebellion. Gaidal was wounded horribly; a blow to the head that made him unable to think straight. He forgot who I was, some of the time. It tore my heart, so I took him to the Tower to be Healed.” “And how’d you get out?” Mat asked. “How’d you fool them?” “I didn’t,” Birgitte said softly. Mat froze. “The Eelfinn never Healed him,” she continued. “They killed us both. I didn’t survive, Mat. That is the end of that particular legend.”

“I told you that I had taken precautions,” she continued. “And still you disobeyed! And now, because of what you’ve done, the murderer knows that I was anticipating her. She’ll be more careful next time. How many lives do you think you just cost us?” Gawyn kept his hands in his lap, trying to hide the fists that they had formed. He should have felt ashamed, but all he could feel was anger. A rage he couldn’t explain—frustration at himself, but mostly at Egwene for turning an honest mistake into a personal affront. “It seems to me,” he said, “that you don’t want a Warder at all. Because I’ll tell you, Egwene, if you can’t stand being looked after, then no man will do.”