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

by Robert Jordan

Gawyn took the narrow, sleek knife. It was balanced for throwing, with a fine steel blade that looked something like an elongated candle’s flame. Set into the center were three bits of blood-colored rock.

“Now, I see that expression on your face, Lan Mandragoran,” Nazar said. “Well, don’t you be getting all self-centered about this. A man has a right to carry his kingdom’s flag with him.” “You’re a baker, Nazar.” “I’m a Borderlander first, son,” the man said, tucking the banner away. “This is my heritage.”

Gorenellin,”

Merekel, Ianor, Kuehn—

“I won’t hear any excuses,” Melfane interrupted. “I’m the Queen!” Elayne said, exasperated. “And I’m the Queen’s midwife,” Melfane replied, still calm. “There isn’t a soldier or attendant in this palace who won’t help me, if I determine that your health—and that of your child—is at risk.” She met Elayne’s eyes. “Would you like to put my words to the test, Your Majesty?”

Desya gavane cierto cuendar isain carentin, Ituralde thought. A phrase in the Old Tongue. It meant “A resolute heart is worth ten arguments.”

“I see,” Ituralde said. “When did you turn to the Shadow?” Vram’s eyes opened wide, and he stood. “You dare name me Darkfriend?” “I’ve known some Saldaeans in my time,” Ituralde said. “I’ve called some friends; I’ve fought against others. But never have I known one who would watch men fight Shadowspawn and not offer to help.” “If I had a sword…” Vram said. “May you burn, Vram Torkumen,” Ituralde said. “I came here to tell you that, on behalf of the men I lost.”

“Rand, you aren’t responsible for this,” Min said. “You weren’t here to…” His pain increased, and she realized she’d said the wrong thing. “Yes,” he replied softly, “I wasn’t here. I abandoned this city when I saw that I could not use it as the tool I wished it to be. I forgot, Min. I forgot what this was all about. Tam was so very right. A man must know why he is fighting.”

“Rand, I see sunlight around you.” He looked up at her, then glanced at the sky. “Not that sunlight,” Min whispered. “A viewing. I see dark clouds, pushed away by the sunlight’s warmth. I see you, a brilliant white sword held in your hand, wielded against one of black, held by a faceless darkness. I see trees, growing green again, bearing fruit. I see a field, the crops healthy and full.” She hesitated. “I see the Two Rivers, Rand. I see an inn there with the mark of the Dragon’s Fang inlaid on its door. No longer a symbol of darkness or hate. A sign of victory and hope.”

“You’re more vital than them all. You remind me who I am. Besides, you think more clearly than most of those who call themselves my counselors. You could be a queen, if you wished it.” “All I wish for is you, stupid looby.” “Thank you.” He hesitated. “Though I could manage without quite so much name calling.” “Life’s tough, isn’t it?”

Votabek

“Iralin?” Rand asked. “What is going on here? What have you done?” “What have I done?” the man demanded. “I’ve been trying to keep everyone from rushing those ships for the spoiled food! Anyone who eats it gets sick and dies. The people won’t listen. Several groups tried to storm the docks for the food, so I decided not to let them kill themselves eating it.”

Milis gasped. “What did you do to it?” “Nothing,” Rand said. “You merely opened the wrong sacks. The rest are all good.” “Merely…” Iralin said. “We happened to open the exact number of bad sacks without reaching one of the good ones? That’s ridiculous.” “Not ridiculous,” Rand said, laying his hand Iralin’s shoulder. “Simply implausible. You did well here, Iralin. I’m sorry to have left you in such a predicament. I’m naming you to the Merchant Council.”

The rest of his army was less impressive. Thousands of men with a range of experience and age—some mercenaries, some refugees from Malden, some women who had seen the Maidens and Cha Faile and insisted on being trained alongside the men. Perrin hadn’t stopped them. The Last Battle was coming. Who was he to forbid those who wanted to fight?

“The axe only kills,” Perrin said. “But the hammer can either create or kill. That is the difference.” It made sense to him, suddenly. That was why he’d needed to throw the axe away. He could choose not to kill. He would not be pushed into this.

Perrin took a deep breath, then spoke. “I am Perrin Aybara!” his voice boomed across the plain. “I am friend to the Dragon Reborn, and I serve here at his command. I am marching to the Last Battle. Lord Captain Commander, you demanded I meet with you on your terms before, and I came. I ask you to return the honor here, and meet as I request. If you are determined to kill me before I ride against the Shadow, at least do me the service of giving me one last chance to prevent spilling blood this day!”

“You’re very polite, Lord Captain Commander,” Berelain said. “And those were elegant bows. Tell me, where did you receive such training?” Her voice was like music. “In the court of Andor, my Lady. I am Galad Damodred, stepson of the departed Queen Morgase and half-brother of Elayne Trakand, the rightful Queen.” “Ah,” Perrin said. “About time I put a name to you. Wish you’d said that last time.”

“You’re right, then,” Aybara said, looking frustrated. “This meeting was pointless.” “No,” Galad said, stealing another glance at Berelain. “Not pointless for me.”

Galad stood, and bowed to Alliandre, then to Berelain. He moved to leave. Then he heard a gasp. Oddly, it came from the serving woman who had brought the tea. Galad glanced at her. It was Morgase.

“Galad?” she said. “What are you doing here? How—” She cut off as he seized her in an embrace, causing those around him on both sides to jump in surprise. She jumped, too. She lived! How? I killed Valda, Galad thought immediately. Killed him for the death of my mother. Who is not dead. I have done evil. No. Valda had deserved to die for the assault on Morgase.

Raechin

“Well?” Romanda finally asked. Her gray hair up in a bun, she looked like a mother wolf sitting atop the ledge out front of her den. “Are you going to say anything, Mother?” “You did not inform me of this meeting,” Egwene said, “so I assume you do not want my words. I have come merely to watch.”

“The lesser consensus is given, it seems,” Saerin said. “The Hall is given authority over the White Tower’s army, while the Amyrlin is given authority and responsibility for dealing with the world’s monarchs.” “No!” Saroiya said, climbing to her feet. “Don’t you see? He is a king! He holds the Laurel Crown. You’ve just given the Amyrlin sole responsibility for dealing with the Dragon Reborn!” There was silence in the Hall. “Well,” Romanda said, “surely she…” She trailed off as she turned, seeing Egwene’s serene face. “I suppose someone should ask for the greater consensus,” Saerin said dryly. “But you’ve managed to hang yourselves quite efficiently with the lesser rope already.”

“How can you not have learned the foolishness of acts like this?” Egwene said. “Is your memory so short?” She looked at the women in turn, and was satisfied by the number who winced. “It is time,” Egwene said, “for a change to be made. I propose that there be no further meetings of this nature. I propose that it be written into Tower law that if any Sitter leaves the White Tower, her Ajah must appoint a surrogate to vote for her while absent. I propose that it be written into Tower law that no meeting of the Hall can be convened unless every Sitter or her surrogate either is present, or has sent word directly that she cannot attend. I propose that the Amyrlin must be informed—and given a reasonable amount of time to attend if she wishes—of every meeting of the Hall, save when she cannot be found or is indisposed in some way.” “Bold changes, Mother,” Saerin said. “You propose altering traditions that have been established for centuries.” “Traditions that hitherto have been used only for treachery, backbiting and division,” Egwene said.

“Who will stand for this motion?” Egwene asked. They stood. Blessedly, they stood—one at a time, slowly, reluctantly. But they did it. Every one of them.

“Speaking of Gawyn, have you found out where in the city he’s run off to?” “Actually, Mother, I had a note on this earlier today. It appears that…well, he isn’t in the city. One of the sisters delivering your messages to the Queen of Andor returned with news of seeing him there.” Egwene groaned, closing her eyes. That man will be the death of me. “Tell him to return. Infuriating though he is, I’m going to need him in the coming days.”

This, Ituralde thought, is why I should never teach tactics. It was hard to explain to students that there was a rule that trumped all of the others: Always trust your instincts.

Galad had always been so solemn. Quick to point out when someone did something wrong. But unlike other children—Elayne especially—he had not used his knowledge as a weapon. She should have seen. She should have realized he’d be attracted to the Whitecloaks for their vision of a world that was black and white. Could she have prepared him better? Shown him that the world was not black and white—it wasn’t even gray. It was full of colors that sometimes didn’t fit into any spectrum of morality.

Would Galad become a Lord Captain Commander like Niall, or perhaps someone better? The Queen in her, the Queen reawakened, wanted to find a way to bring his light out and stifle the shadow.

“I don’t do this by choice,” Galad said, rising again. “Aybara himself suggested that he be tried. The man’s conscience weighs against him, and to deny him this opportunity would be wrong. Let him prove his innocence to us, and to himself. Then we can continue.”

“The Children like to speak of the Light protecting them,” Morgase said, “of guiding their judgment and leading people to justice. That isn’t how it works, Galad. Valda, claiming the blessing of the Light, could do terrible things. And I, hoping for the Light’s aid, have killed unjustly. “I’m not saying that Aybara is innocent. I haven’t heard enough either way. But I want you to understand. Sometimes a good man can do wrong. At times, it is appropriate to punish him. At other times, punishment serves nobody, and the best thing to do is to let him continue and learn. As I continued and learned, after making such a poor judgment.”

“I…well, I have to go, son,” Tam said. “Leave the camp. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” “Is this—” “It has nothing to do with the Whitecloaks,” Tam said. “I’ve been told I can’t say much. But it’s about Rand.” The colors swirled. Rand walked the hallways of the Stone of Tear. His expression was dark. Dangerous. “Perrin,” Tam said, “I think this is something I need to do. It involves Aes Sedai, and I have to leave you now. I can’t say anything else. They made me swear it.” Perrin looked into Tam’s eyes and saw the sincerity there. He nodded. “All right, then. You need any help? Someone to go with you, wherever you’re going?” “I’ll be all right,” Tam said. He smelled embarrassed. What was going on? “I’ll try to get you some help, son.” He laid a hand on Perrin’s shoulder. “You’ve done well here. I’m proud of you, and your father would be too. Keep it up. I’ll see you at the Last Battle, if not before.”

“The world just changed, Elayne,” Birgitte said, shaking her head, long braid swinging slightly. “It just changed in a very large way. I have a terrible feeling that it’s only the beginning.”

Perrin was learning not to fear Young Bull. Step by step, he learned balance. The wolf when the wolf was needed; the man when the man was needed. He let himself be drawn into the hunt, but kept Faile—his home—in his mind. He walked the edge of the sword, but each step made him more confident.

Hopper stood on the outcropping. Perrin could feel wolves all across the slopes of Dragonmount. In even greater numbers than he’d felt here recently. They wait, Hopper said. The Last Hunt comes.

Hopper slowed, then sat down in the snow. He looked upward, toward the peak. I cannot stay, the wolf sent. This is not my place. “I understand,” Perrin said. The wolf vanished, but Perrin continued. He couldn’t explain what drew him, but he knew that he needed to witness. Someone did.

“Rand, please…” Perrin whispered. And then—from the midst of the blackness, from the center of the uproar and the tempest—a tiny sliver of light split through the evil. Like a candle’s glow on a very dark night. The light shone upward, toward the distant sky, like a beacon.

The wolves began to howl. It was a howl of triumph, of glory and of victory. Perrin raised his head and howled as well, becoming Young Bull for a moment. He could feel the pool of sunlight growing, and it washed over him, its warmth banishing the frozen chill.

“Al dival, al kiserai, al mashi!” For light, glory, and love!

“Carai manshimaya Tylin. Carai an manshimaya Nalesean. Carai an manshimaya ayend’an!” Honor of my blade for Tylin. Honor of my blade for Nalesean. Honor of my blade for the fallen. The call of vengeance.

The Trollocs and their commanders had made a mistake. They assumed that Ituralde cared about protecting the city. They mistook him. All he cared about now was doing as much damage to them as possible. So, he used their assumptions against them. Yes, their army was large. But any man who had ever tried to kill rats knew that the size of his hammer didn’t matter so long as the rats knew how to hide.

Ituralde found himself laughing. “Now? The Dragon sends help now?” He stumbled, then sat down, staring up at the burning sky. He was laughing, and he could not stop. Soon tears began streaking down his cheeks. Yes, there was sunlight up there.

Ankaer.

“We need to get out of the city,” Bashere said, his voice urgent. “I’m sorry, man. Maradon is lost.” “No,” al’Thor said softly. “The Shadow will not have this city. Not after what these men did to hold it. I will not allow it.”

“The King of Arad Doman. Where did she find him?” Min said. “How did you know?” “A friend left me a secret,” Rand said. “The White Tower collected Mattin Stepaneos to ‘protect’ him. Well, it wasn’t too much of a leap to wonder if they might have done that with other monarchs. And if they sent sisters to Arad Doman to seize him months ago, before any of them knew of gateways, they could have gotten trapped in the snows on their return trip.” He seemed so relieved. “Graendal never had him. I didn’t kill him, Min. One innocent I assumed that I’d killed still lives. That’s something. A small something. But it helps.”

“If it matters, Rand didn’t approve the men bonding women.” “It doesn’t matter if he did or not,” Egwene said. “The Asha’man are his responsibility.” “As the Aes Sedai who chained him and beat him are yours, Mother?” Nynaeve asked.

“Slipped? You pushed me!” “I did nothing of the sort,” Elayne said primly. “You were showing off, balancing on the posts.” “And you shook the dock.” “I stepped onto it,” Elayne said. “Forcefully. I’m a vigorous person. I have a forceful stride.” “A forceful—That’s a downright lie!” “No, I’m merely stating the truth creatively. I’m Aes Sedai now. It’s a talent of ours. Now, are you going to row me on the pond, or not?”

“I have not been moping. I’ve been pondering.” “Ah, yes. I see you’ve learned to speak the truth creatively, too.” He snorted softly.

“Why do I hate al’Thor?” Gawyn said. “Well, there’s Mother. But it’s not just her. I hate what he’s become.” “The Dragon Reborn?” “A tyrant.” “You don’t know that, Gawyn.” “He’s a sheepherder. What right does he have to cast down thrones, to change the world as he does?” “Particularly while you huddled in a village?” He’d told her most of what had happened to him in the last few months. “While he conquered nations, you were being forced to kill your friends, then were sent to your death by your Amyrlin.” “Exactly.” “So it’s jealousy,” Elayne said softly.

Gawyn read the letter, then read it again. Egwene screamed at him for disturbing her plans, all but threw him out of the Tower, and she was displeased to discover he’d left the city? What did she expect him to do? He almost laughed.