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

by Robert Jordan

“I killed one of the Children, too,” Galad said. “And was named Darkfriend for it.” “That was different.” Something seemed to be troubling Bornhald, something he wasn’t saying. “Well, that is true,” Galad said. “I do not disagree that Aybara should be punished, but the day’s events leave me strangely troubled.” He shook his head. Finding answers should be easy. The right thing always came to him. However, whenever he thought he’d seized upon the right course of action regarding Aybara, he found distasteful worries cropping up inside of him. Life is not so easy as the toss of a coin, his mother had said. One side or the other…your simple illusions… He did not like the feeling. Not at all.

“When change comes, you can scream and try to force things to stay the same. But you’ll usually end up getting trampled. However, if you can direct the changes, they can serve you. Just as the Power serves us, but only after we surrender to it.” Egwene looked at each woman in turn. “Our three groups should have begun working together long ago. The Last Battle is upon us, and the Dragon Reborn threatens to free the Dark One. If that weren’t enough, we have another common foe—one who would see Aes Sedai, Windfinders and Wise Ones alike destroyed.”

“It still isn’t right to give up, Mother,” Yukiri finally said. “With effort, we could bring the Wise Ones and Windfinders under control.” “And the Asha’man?” Egwene said softly, unable to keep a hint of discomfort out of her voice. “Will we insist that all angreal and sa’angreal created for men belong to us, though we cannot use them? What if there are Asha’man who learn to create objects of Power? Will we force them to give up everything they create to us? Could we enforce that?” “I…” Yukiri said. Leane shook her head. “She’s right, Yukiri. Light, but she is.”

Perrin glanced around, getting his bearings. He was on a lightly forested slope, and could see Dragonmount to the north of him. He glanced eastward, and saw the tip of a large structure peeking out over the treetops. The White Tower. The city might give Perrin an advantage, make it easier to hide in one of the many buildings or alleys.

“Egwene?” Perrin asked. She stood pressed against the wall nearby, intently looking down the hallway. When he spoke, she spun on him, hands going up. He felt something grab him. His mind instantly reacted, however, pushing the air away. Egwene started as she failed to snatch him. He stepped forward. “Egwene, you shouldn’t be here. This place is dangerous.” “Perrin?”

I should be dead, she realized. If Gawyn hadn’t stopped these assassins, she’d have been murdered in her sleep and would have vanished from Tel’aran’rhiod. She’d never have defeated Mesaana. Suddenly, she felt a fool, any sense of victory completely evaporating.

“It’s all right, Gawyn,” she said, blinking away tears. “I’m going to bond you now. It’s the only way.” His grip on her arm became slightly more firm. “No. Not unless…you want…” “Fool,” she said, preparing the weaves. “Of course I want you as my Warder. I always have.”

“Interesting thoughts you raise, apprentice,” Nakomi said, pouring the tea. “Our land here is called the Three-fold Land. Three-fold, for the three things it did to us. It punished us for sin. It tested our courage. It formed an anvil to shape us.” “The Three-fold Land makes us strong. So, by leaving it, we become weak.” “But if we had to come here to be forged into something of strength,” Nakomi said, “does that not suggest that the tests we were to face—in the wetlands—were as dangerous as the Three-fold-land itself? So dangerous and difficult that we had to come here to prepare for them?”

“And so,” Nakomi said, handing over a cup of tea, “the Three-fold Land was our punishment. We came here to grow so that we could meet our toh.” “Yes,” Aviendha said. It felt clear to her. “So, once we have fought for the Car’a’carn, we will have met that toh. And therefore will have no reason to be punished further. If that is the case, why would we return to this land? Would that not be like seeking more punishment, once toh is met?”

He hadn’t asked to become a leader, but did that absolve him of responsibility? People needed him. The world needed him. And, with an understanding that cooled in him like molten rock forming into a shape, he realized that he wanted to lead. If someone had to be lord of these people, he wanted to do it himself. Because doing it yourself was the only way to see that it was done right.

“Wil!” Perrin bellowed, holding up the banner. “Raise this banner high. Don’t take it down again until the Last Battle has been won. I march beneath the sign of the wolf. The rest of you, rouse the camp. Get every soldier ready to fight. We have another task tonight!”

“Mah’alleinir,”

“Galad,” Byar said. “You’ve killed us.” All respect was gone from his voice. The accusation set Galad on edge. “Those who walk in the Light must take no responsibility for the actions of those who follow the Shadow.” A quote from Lothair Mantelar. “I have acted with honor.”

“Grady, Neald!” Perrin bellowed. “Light!” Brilliant white globes appeared in the air and hung there. More and more Trollocs were rising from the fog, as if it were spawning them, but they seemed bewildered by the lights. They looked up, squinting and shielding their eyes. Perrin grunted. “How about that? They weren’t ready for us; they thought they’d have an easy shot at the Whitecloaks.” He turned, looking down the lines of surprised soldiers. “Well, men, you wanted to follow me to the Last Battle? We’re going to get a taste of it right here! Archers, loose! Let’s send those Shadowspawn back to the pit that birthed them!”

“This was the trap. They probably would have attacked us much earlier, but the Whitecloaks were in the way. They had to wait for us to deal with them. And then we left. So…” “So they attacked Damodred and his men,” Faile said. “After setting up the trap, they at least wanted to do some damage to those who might fight later on.”

Are we allies, then? Galad thought, nodding to Trom and Byar as they approached. Perhaps for now. He did trust Aybara. Yes, perhaps there were men in the world who would put together an intricate plot like this one, all to trick his way into Galad’s favor. Valda had been like that. Aybara wasn’t. He really was straightforward. If he’d wanted the Children out of his way, he’d have killed them and moved on. “Then so be it, Perrin Aybara,” Galad said. “I name your punishment here, this night, at this moment.” Perrin frowned, turning away from his contemplation of the battle lines. “What? Now?” “I deem, as punishment, that you pay blood price to the families of the dead Children in the amount of five hundred crowns. I also order you to fight in the Last Battle with all the strength you can muster. Do these things, and I pronounce you cleansed of guilt.” It was an odd time for him to give this proclamation, but he had made his decision. They would still fight, and perhaps one would fall. Galad wanted Aybara to know the judgment, in case. Aybara studied him, then nodded. “I name that fair, Galad Damodred.”

“I am well enough to fight if I have your mount.” “Well then, let’s be on with it.” Aybara eyed him. “I’ll stay by you, though, just in case it looks like you might fall.” “Thank you.” “I’m fond of the horse.” Smiling, Galad joined him, and they waded back into the melee.

Looking at her face and feeling the storm inside, Gawyn was given—for the first time—another perspective on the Warder and Aes Sedai relationship. Warders weren’t just bodyguards; they were the ones—the only ones—who saw the truth of what happened within the Aes Sedai. No matter how proficient the Aes Sedai became at hiding emotions, her Warder knew there was more than the mask.

Egwene sounded aghast when she spoke. “You think I could face my parents if I got married without them knowing about it? Light, Gawyn, we’ll at least have to send for them! And what about Elayne? You’d marry without telling her?”

Lan could feel something, a distinct difference to the emotions in the back of his mind. He’d grown accustomed to ignoring those, and the woman they represented. Lately, those emotions had changed. More and more, he was certain that Nynaeve had taken his bond. He could identify her by the way she felt. How could one not know her, that sense of passion and kindness? It felt…remarkable.

“How did you notice me?” Lan asked, containing his anger. “The horse,” Kaisel said, nodding to Mandarb. “She said you might disguise yourself. But you would never leave the horse.” Burn that woman, Lan thought as he heard a call being raised through the fortress. He’d been outmaneuvered. Curse Nynaeve. And bless her, too. He tried to send a sense of love and frustration through the bond to her. And then, with a deep sigh, he gave in. “The Golden Crane flies for Tarmon Gai’don,” Lan said softly. “Let any man or woman who wishes to follow join it and fight.” He closed his eyes as the call went up. It soon became a cheer. Then a roar.

“I’ll be frank with you, Galad. I don’t think we have much time left. A few weeks, maybe. Well, I fancy we’ll need you, but Rand won’t like the idea of Whitecloaks in the battle lines unsupervised. So, I want you to swear you’ll accept me as your commander until the battle is through.”

“My Lady,” he continued in a softer voice. “The Andoran court is certain to hear that you still live, now that Aybara’s entire camp knows. If you don’t present yourself and explain that you’ve renounced the throne, the rumors of your survival could erode Elayne’s authority.” Morgase didn’t reply. “If the Last Battle truly is coming,” Tallanvor said, “we can’t afford—” “Oh, hush,” she said curtly. “I’ve already given Lini and the others the order to pack up. Didn’t you notice what they were doing?”

“Duty can bloody get in line. It’s had its share of me. Everyone’s had their share of me, Tallanvor. Everyone but the man I want.” She stepped over his sword, still lying in the cockleburrs, then couldn’t stop herself. In a blink, she was kissing him. “All right, you two,” a stern voice said from behind. “We’re going to see Lord Aybara right now.” Morgase pulled away. It was Lini. “What?” Morgase tried to regain some composure. “You’re getting married,” Lini declared. “If I have to pull you to it by the ears.”

Berelain took out a kerchief and dabbed the corners of her eyes. Well, women always wept at things like weddings. Though Perrin…well, he felt a little water in his eyes, too. Might have been the sunlight.

Another little strike on the back of his head. He spun and caught sight of something dropping to the grass. Frowning, he knelt down and picked it up. An acorn. Another one smacked him in the forehead. It had come from the forest. Perrin growled and strode into the trees. One of the camp’s few children, perhaps? Ahead was a large oak tree; the trunk thick and wide enough to hide someone. Once he grew close, he hesitated. Was this some kind of trap? He laid his hand on his hammer and inched forward. The tree was downwind, and he couldn’t catch the scent of— A hand suddenly jutted out from behind the trunk, holding a brown sack. “I caught a badger,” a familiar voice said. “Want to let it go on the village green?” Perrin froze, then let out a bellowing laugh. He rounded the tree’s trunk and found a figure in a high-collared red coat—trimmed with gold—and fine brown trousers sitting on the tree’s exposed roots, the sack squirming near his ankles. Mat was chewing idly on a long length of jerky, and wore a broad-brimmed black hat.

“Light, Mat,” Perrin said. “It seems like it’s been forever!” “A lifetime,” Mat said.

“The Children had answers, Elayne,” he said, sitting. Light, but he was frustrating. It was good to see him, but he was frustrating! “I don’t wish to discuss it,” Elayne said. “How many Whitecloaks have come with you?” “The entire force of Children accompanied me to Andor,” Galad said. “I am their Lord Captain Commander.” Elayne blinked, then glanced at Morgase. The elder Trakand nodded. “Well,” Elayne said, “I see we have much to catch up on.”

“Mother,” Elayne said, raising a hand to grasp hers. “He’s a good man, and I love him. What you have heard is exaggeration or bitter rumor.” “But he’s…Elayne, a man who can channel, the Dragon Reborn!” “And still a man,” Elayne said, feeling his knot of emotions in the back of her mind, so warm. “Just a man, for all that is demanded of him.” Morgase drew her lips into a thin line. “I shall withhold judgment. Though in a way I still feel that I should have thrown that boy in the Palace dungeons the moment we found him skulking in the gardens. I didn’t like how he looked at you even then, mind you.”

Androl brushed off his hands, smiling. Children were so adaptable. Before them, centuries of tradition, terror and superstition could melt away like butter left too long in the sun.

This village would grow to become a town, then a large city, as vast as Tar Valon. The streets had been built to allow the passing of several wagons at a time. New sections were surveyed and laid. It bespoke vision and planning. The streets themselves whispered of the Black Tower’s destiny.

Retashen Dazer

“Makashak Na famalashten morkase,” Nalaam mumbled, “delf takaksaki mere!”

“So far as I’m concerned,” Elayne said, pouring several cups of tea, “they’re already in rebellion.” “We came to you peacefully,” Faile said. “Hardly the action of rebels.”

“The Two Rivers has rediscovered its history,” Faile said carefully. “It couldn’t rest forever, not with Tarmon Gai’don looming. Not after sheltering the Dragon Reborn during his childhood. Part of me wonders if Manetheren had to fall, if the Two Rivers had to rise, to provide a place for Rand al’Thor to be raised. Among farmers with the blood—and obstinacy—of kings.”

“Please forgive me if I overstep myself,” Morgase continued. “But Elayne, I promised these two that I would speak for them. I told you I would. Andor is strong, but I fear it could break itself against this man. He does not want your throne, I promise it, and the Two Rivers does need supervision. Would it be such a terrible thing to let them have the man they themselves have chosen?”

“The Two Rivers is exempt,” Faile said. As Elayne’s expression soured, she continued quickly. “Your Majesty, the throne ignored the Two Rivers for generations, not protecting them from bandits or sending workers to improve their roads, not giving them anything in the way of magistrates or justices.” “They didn’t need it,” Elayne said. “They governed themselves fine.” She left unsaid that the Two Rivers folk would probably have tossed out tax collectors, magistrates or justices sent by the Queen—but she seemed to know it. “Well,” Faile said, “nothing needs change, then. The Two Rivers governs itself.”

The floor was covered in woven mats where stubborn damane were sent to the ground, writhing in pain. It would not do for them to be harmed physically. Damane were among the most important tools the Empire had, more valuable than horses or raken. You did not destroy a beast because it was slow to learn; you punished it until it learned.

Hate her.

“And you, Mat?” Perrin said. “Can I do something to help you? Maybe let you Travel between tents?” “No. I’ll be fine.” “How are you going to protect yourself?” “With my wits.” “Planning to find some of those, then?” Perrin said. “About time.” Mat snorted.

Garlvan

Tadvishm

There were tears in Aviendha’s eyes. There was no shame at crying over this tragedy. She had feared the truth, and she could no longer deny it. Those had been Seanchan raiders, riding atop raken. The Raven Empire, the Lightmakers from her first vision, were the Seanchan—and they hadn’t existed until the middle of the current Age, when Artur Hawkwing’s armies had crossed the oceans. She was not seeing the deep past of her people. She was seeing their future.

Tamaav

The other four looked at her. She was of the lineage of the Dragon, one of the last living. The other three lines had been killed off.

Hehyal,

Padra bowed her head at the honor he showed her. She sat between Alarch and Janduin, her brothers. Though the four siblings were quadruplets, they looked very dissimilar. Alarch took more after their wetlander side, and had dark hair. Janduin was blond and tall. Beside him sat Marinna, their sister, small of build with a round face.

“This peace of the Dragon’s will not last long, anyway,” Alalved said. “Skirmishes between the nations are common, though none speak of them. The Car’a’carn required promises of the monarchs, but there is no enforcement. Many wetlanders cannot be held at their word, and I worry that the Seanchan will devour them while they squabble.”

She opened her eyes and gritted her teeth. Aiel took responsibility. Aiel fought. Aiel stood for honor. If she was the only one who knew the terrors of their future, then it was her duty—as a Wise One—to act. She would save her people.

Lorstrum

“Cadsuane Sedai,” Rand said softly. “Your net has a few ornaments I don’t recognize—I suspect it is a Breaking-era creation. But I was there when the first ones were designed, and I wore the original male version.” The room fell still. “Well, boy,” Cadsuane finally said. “You—” “Are you ever going to give up that affectation, Cadsuane Sedai?” Rand asked. “Calling me boy? I no longer mind, though it does feel odd. I was four hundred years old on the day I died during the Age of Legends. I suspect that would make you my junior by several decades at the least. I show you respect. Perhaps it would be appropriate for you to return it. If you wish, you may call me Rand Sedai. I am, so far as I know, the only male Aes Sedai still alive who was properly raised but who never turned to the Shadow.” Cadsuane paled visibly. Rand’s smile turned kindly. “You wished to come in and dance with the Dragon Reborn, Cadsuane. I am what I need to be. Be comforted—you face the Forsaken, but have one as ancient as they at your side.”