Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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 believeMoiraine 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.

The peddler shifted from sniveling madman to an oily arrogance . 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."

I fought 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.” The joyful crackling of logs on a winter fire sounded once more, an abrupt switch back.
“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. 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. 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.

Chapter Text

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, 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. Ir 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'm 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, comes 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 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. 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 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."

Chapter Text

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 them, 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 would 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 stretch to 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 facade 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.

Chapter Text

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 interrupts, 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’dan 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.”

Chapter Text

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.

Chapter Text

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.

Chapter Text

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 their 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.”

Chapter Text

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.

Chapter Text

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.

Chapter Text

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 buil 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.

Chapter Text

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.

Chapter Text

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.

Chapter Text

Amadine 3, 998 NE (June 10th)

I scanned the room. Moiraine sat to one side of the room, and one of the Brown Aes Sedai I had met last night, Verin Sedai, sat to the other, but it was the woman in the tall chair behind the wide table who held my eyes. The curtains had been partially drawn over the arrowslits, but the gaps let in enough light behind her to make her face hard to see clearly. I still recognized her, though. The Amyrlin Seat. Why is the Brown Sister here?

Quickly, I dropped to one knee, left hand on sword hilt, right fist pressed to the patterned rug, and bowed my head. “As you have summoned me, Mother, so have I come. I stand ready.”

“Yes, this again. Stand up, boy, stand up.” The Amyrlin Seat sighed. I met her look eye to eye. She did not blink. I tried not to, but could not help myself.

“Sit, boy,” she said finally, gesturing to a ladder-back chair that had been pulled around squarely in front of the table. “This will not be short, I fear.”

“Thank you, Mother.” I bowed my head. Then, as Lan had told me, glanced at the chair and touched my sword. “By your leave, Mother, I will stand. The watch is not done.”

The Amyrlin Seat made an exasperated sound and looked at Moiraine. “Have you let Lan at him, Daughter? This will be difficult enough without him picking up Warder ways.”

“Lan has been teaching all the boys, Mother,” Moiraine replied calmly. “He has spent a little more time with this one than the others because he carries a sword, and because I chose him as my second Warder.”

I couldn’t help my snort. All three women looked at me, eyebrows raised in unison. My face was calm as I stared back, not showing my mirth at Moiraine’s wooly words. If Moiraine wanted to basically lie to the Amyrlin Seat that was her right. I worked with Lan every day, nearly. I don’t think Perrin touched his axe more than twice a week, and Mat spent all his time carousing with soldiers and making money in tavern games.

When I did not make to say a word, they moved on. The Brown Aes Sedai shifted on her chair. “The Gaidin are stiff-necked and proud, Mother, but useful. I would not be without Tomas, as you would not lose Alric. I have even heard a few Reds say they sometimes wish for a Warder. And the Greens, of course...”

The three Aes Sedai were all ignoring me, now. “This sword,” the Amyrlin Seat said. “It appears to be a heron-mark blade. How did he come by that, Moiraine?”

“Tam al’Thor left the Two Rivers as a boy, Mother. He joined the army of Illian, and served in the Whitecloak War and the last two wars with Tear. In time he rose to be a blademaster and the Second Captain of the Companions. After the Aiel War, Tam al’Thor returned to the Two Rivers with a wife from Caemlyn and an infant boy. It would have saved much, had I known this earlier, but I know it now.”

He was telling the truth, but did not say he rose so high. I cannot believe I was raised by a blademaster who never taught me! And how did Moiraine find all this out? I frowned. Who had told her?

“Against Tear.” The Amyrlin Seat frowned slightly. “Well, there was blame enough on both sides in those wars. Fool men who would rather fight than talk. Can you tell if the blade is authentic, Verin?”

“There are tests, Mother.”

“Then take it and test it, Daughter.”

I laughed out loud, but my tone was sharp. “That is not happening. This is a power-wrought blade, given to me by my father. It is my sword now and I will not be parted from it.” My words were louder than I intended, and I felt embarrassed when I realized Verin Sedai had made no move to get up.

“So,” the Amyrlin Seat said, “you have some fire in you besides whatever Lan put in. Good. You will need it.”

This was a test , I realized. “I am what I am, Mother,” I managed smoothly enough. “I stand ready for what comes. I demonstrated that last night.” My stomach felt queasy as images flashed in my mind of the dead men, their bodies torn apart by my sword.

She looked me straight in the eye, speaking plainly. “Lan has been at you. Very well. In a couple hours, after we publically announce you as chinnar’veren , you will join Lord Ingtar Shinowa and your friends Mat and the other one—Perrin?—will go as well. You will guard the Horn of Valere until it reaches Illian, first by river, then across land. Is this acceptable?”

I nodded. “Yes, that is much what I expected, Mother.”

“And when you reach Illian, you will announce yourself as Lord Drake, the chinnar'veren, the shapechanger who found and then rescued the stolen Horn of Valere. You will be crowned king by the Council of Nine and the Assemblage, in accordance with Moiraine Sedai’s plans.” I was surprised she spoke so directly of Moiraine’s plans for me as Dragon Reborn, and in the presence of the Brown Sister.

I looked at Verin Sedai, who had sat quietly and seemed focused on other thoughts. “Does she know?” I asked plainly. If she did not, then why have her here?

“That you are the Dragon Reborn? Yes, I am aware. There is no other reasonable explanation why Moiraine would bond a man who can channel, let alone become infatuated.” She looked at me as if I were a juicy, wriggling worm, and she the bird. “Your tattoo is quite remarkable. May I see more of it? I must make a quick sketch of it.” The Brown Sister brought out a small pad of paper and a box of charcoals from somewhere and dragged her seat closer to where I stood.

The Amyrlin looked at her with exhaustion and just sighed, rubbing her forehead. “We all three know what you are, Lord Dragon.” I was startled by the title, not expecting such a formality, or such a plain acknowledgement.

Moiraine finally spoke up, when she realized the Amyrlin would not say more. “We have known her since we were Novices. I can trust her enough, Rand, so you simply need to trust me. And if she is not trustworthy, I know where to find her.” Verin did not even pause, not hearing the threat or discounting it. There's my snake, I thought with a smile.

The Amyrlin continued, pointedly ignoring the sound of sketching, and Verin’s noises of appreciation as she moved my bare forearm this way and that, admiring the tattoo in the sunlight. The Amyrlin’s voice was sharp and sure. “After consolidating your hold on Illian as their new king, you will seek Toman Head with an army, and deal with whatever lies there, because something certainly does. Whether shadowspawn and Forsaken or Artur Hawkwing’s return, you confront it and you proclaim yourself as the Dragon Reborn. Returning a conquering king and the Dragon Reborn will cement your hold in Illian. The reactions in Tarabon, Arad Doman and the Almoth plain will be worth watching, as civil war is sure to break out at your announcement. Moiraine Sedai will have to make plans when you get to that point, but you should have a solid foundation to work with as the Dragon Reborn.” Her mouth twisted as she spoke the words, as if she hated that she even had to speak them. Light, woman. This is all your plan, and you’re the one who sent Moiraine after me. I like it as little as you, I muttered in the safety of my mind,

Annoyed, I replied, “I can agree with seeking Toman Head out, with an army even. I have been told to go there already, by another. But it is Moiraine and I that will make plans when we get there. We will be partners, Mother, I am not content to be on Moiraine’s puppet strings. I will listen to recommendations and advice, not orders.”

“Moiraine Sedai , will rule Illian in your absence. The world cannot, and I will not, have Illian falling into rebellion the second you leave. There will be chaos enough with just you leaving. However, if you want to make plans for nations you know nothing of, then feel free, Lord Dragon,” Her tone was respectful, and that felt mocking to me. “You’ll see how few the strings we have on you are, when Moiraine Sedai has to clean up your mess later.” Her voice brooked no nonsense, as she seemed to rise in her chair taller than me, which made me want to bow my head in acquiescence. It made a part of me angry. I wanted to glare, I wanted to fight and deny, to claim I could do better with the world than the White Tower has, but that would do nothing to help me, only make me appear a spoilt child. I would have to prove her wrong. Better the Amyrlin think me domesticated .  

I nodded, slowly, not saying a word, and she smiled a dazzling smile that made her handsome face beautiful, the sunlight haloing her head, her hair done up in a net of gold wire. I had to look away.

“Good. Very good. I’m glad to see my Daughter Moiraine was not merely infatuated, but seeing true. Finding a good man who listens is like noodling for catfish on the new moon, it's always a surprise you’ve caught one. Now tell me, how well can you channel?” Her voice was kind now, lacking all the tension it had before.

In response, still feeling annoyed, I went all out. I wove a dozen heatless flames in a dozen colors, sparking and popping and hissing, bobbing gently in the air. The Amyrlin Seat leaned back but stared intently, as if trying to see the threads of saidin , while Verin Sedai suddenly pulled a new page of paper out from the bag by her seat and began immediately writing, muttering quietly to herself.

Moiraine merely shook her head at my display, smiling and feeling proud. “He prepared this little demonstration, Mother. Worked very hard on it all last week, almost dangerously so when he began altering the weave to make it fizz and sparkle and change color. I admonished him—told him to slow down and be more careful—but he kept at it until he got it right.”

“A week? Three weeks of training at most? How is such a thing possible? Such a display would take most Novices we get these days years.” The Amyrlin Seat was in shock, staring wide-eyed at my display. I felt vindicated, and powerful in that moment. I had surprised the Amyrlin Seat herself.

“My teacher taught me well.” I smiled back at Moiraine. “Even though she tried to tell me ‘A bird cannot teach a fish to fly, nor a fish teach a bird to swim.’”

“I have always thought that was a bad saying,” Verin said suddenly, not looking up from her note-taking. “There are birds that dive and swim. And in the Sea of Storms are fish that fly, with long fins that stretch out as wide as your outstretched arms, and beaks like swords that can pierce....” Her words trailed off and she became flustered. Moiraine and the Amyrlin Seat were staring at her without expression. Verin then busied herself with her papers.

I decided to distract the growing anger of the Amyrlin Seat. Let us see what Moiraine has told her ‘Mother’, if she kept the Door a secret, I thought to myself. “I have discovered lost weaves, Mother. Moiraine Sedai has studied and even recreated some with saidar. I have weaves for sensing the One Power, identifying angreal, weaves that tie to my body, allowing me to float gently from a fall, or spray fire and lighting from my hands for as long as I hold the One Power, and more. They just appeared in my head, like a gift from the Creator.” I paused, a smile growing. “And we discovered something miraculous, Mother. We found that a chinnar’veren channelers expel the Taint from their body while channeling, in the form of vomit and smoke.”

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as I spoke of the Taint, her mouth puckering. “Moiraine Sedai told me of all of these, and her own discoveries—there is no need to demonstrate more—but I will have to see this ‘expelling’ for myself. I prepared a lead container for you. Verin Sedai?”

So she did not tell her about the Door to Darkspace. It seems I can trust her to keep some secrets. I smiled, satisfied. My snake indeed.

“Oh yes, let me grab it.” She rummaged around in the bag near her chair. “Ah, here it is.” She handed me a square lead box, and a towel, a kind smile on her face. “For any spillage, I’d like to see how it affects cloth.”

I took a deep breath, releasing saidin, the flames fading out. Then I transformed: long red-golden hair spilling from my scalp, scales surrounding my eyes and dusting my jaw, sharp teeth giving me a predator’s smile. My ears lengthened to points, golden antlers burst from my forehead and bent backward, and my fingers became scaled and clawed. I stand in the so’shan of a chinnar’veren—the Lord Form of a shapechanger—in the middle of the room.

And I immediately vomited an awful black oil, that curdled my stomach and coated my mouth in the taste of decay, into the lead box. Embarrassed, I wipe my mouth with the towel, the dregs of the Taint burning the cloth. An acrid smell lingered in the air.

I walked forward to the Amyrlin’s desk, and set the box with its open lid atop. Goose-pimples ran up my arms, and she recoiled from the box almost immediately. “Light Preserve me, that blasted stuff has to be the Taint." She shivered. "I’ve never felt something so evil, so rancid and wrong. Verin, take it away. Get rid of it.”

Verin Sedai appeared next to me, peering at the box before also starting. “Oh. Yes. Yes, that feels quite awful.” She turned to me, genuine sympathy in her eyes. “You poor boy, having to have that in your body. If merely channeling some lights produces that much Taint, it is no wonder some men go mad so quickly. Though I have some regrets. I had been wanting to document the mad—”

“I said, take it away, Daughter,” the Amyrlin interrupted, her voice calm and cool but her eyes lit with an angry fire. “You have spoken much out of turn today. Do you wish to be removed from this room?”

“No Mother,” she said, chastened, and quickly snapped the box shut, sealing the Taint inside. Hair-thin tendrils of smoke began to pour from the clasp keeping it closed, drifting ever northwards. The room is silent for a long minute as the Amyrlin stared at me. She seemed to like to do that, to simply stare until I did something or she got what she wanted.

“Why do you not gentle me?” The words come out of my mouth, the thought having bounced around in my head since I stood out in the waiting room yesterday, for Moiraine to leave her private meeting. I expected it then, especially with how angry Moiraine looked as she left, and that she muted her bond about an hour before she walked out that door. I felt they must have discussed it.

The Amyrlin Seat looked at me as if I was a fool. “The Prophecies must be fulfilled. We let you walk free, knowing what you are, because otherwise the world we know will die, and the Dark One will cover the earth with fire and death. Mark me, not all Aes Sedai feel the same. There are some here in Fal Dara who would strike you down if they knew a tenth of what you are, and feel no more remorse than for gutting a fish. But then, there are men who’ve no doubt laughed with you who would do the same, if they knew. Have a care, Rand al’Thor, Dragon Reborn.”

If I only I could remember most of them.

I felt exhausted, from everything. The long day and night, waking up alone, this meeting. I stared into those bright blue eyes in dark Tairen features, who watched me like the stars above, distant and cold. “Is there any more you wished to speak of, Mother? I find myself in need of some time alone before I have other matters to attend to.”

Those eyes softened. “Take care of yourself, Lord Dragon. The Creator’s Hand shelter you, and His Light illumine your path.”

A part of Lan’s instructions came back to me. Left hand on the hilt, I twisted the sword behind me, catching the scabbard in my right, then bowed, arms straight. “By your leave, Mother, may I depart this place?”

“I give you leave to go, my son. You may accompany him, my Daughter.” She nodded to Moiraine, who somehow managed to make leaping out of the chair graceful. The Amyrlin snorted, but said nothing as Moiraine made her way to my side and we left the room, hands intertwined.

The ceremony that announced me to Fal Dara was rushed by the Amyrlin Seat, taking place in court at the Fortress, the wide room filled with nobles and citizens alike just an hour after our meeting. Farmers, blacksmiths, merchants and shopkeepers all mingled amongst Lord and Ladies. The atmosphere was respectful and quiet as they all spoke about the events of last night and my daring rescue of the Horn. I had just heard a tale of my dueling a Fade and a dozen Darkfriends one on one, until I won the Horn back.

I was dressed in scarlet coat , a massive black and white dragon on the back curled on itself like the Great Serpent, an ancient symbol of the Wheel of Time, and embroidered golden dragons curling round my arms. Moiraine stood beside me in full Aes Sedai regalia, the formal shawl once again adorning her and her silk blue dress with a high neck and lacy ruffles at her hands. A belt of gold etched with suns adorned her waist, and she wore delicate gold bangles with turquoise stones on her wrists. Her hair was a cascade of dark brown waves that seemed to shine in the sunlight streaming through high, narrow windows down onto the dais, and a spray of sapphires dangled from each ear. With us stood Lord Agelmar, in that formal armor he kept in his office, well-made and gilded but not ostentatious, fierce-looking and martial. The Amyrlin Seat sat on the only chair, lounging like a cat, her eyes never leaving me, done in a dress of white with a ruffled skirt, each of the seven ruffles the color of an Ajah.

Once enough people gathered in the hall, the doors closed and Lord Agelmar spoke. “We are gathered here today, after a night of chaos and mourning, to discuss a revelation!" His voice was strong and steady, reverberating in the room. "This revelation was delivered to me by the young Lord Rand and Moiraine Sedai after their triumphant return with the Horn of Valere, a month ago. They told me that the chinnar’veren , our long-lost defenders against the predation of the Shadow have returned.” He paused as shouts filled the air, the crowd aware of me, but still astounded by the news. “In ancient tradition an Aes Sedai would often bond with male chinnar’veren , the two defenders of the Light acting in concert with one another in battle and in heart, and I would ask anyone who has seen Lord Rand and Moiraine Sedai together to deny they are bonded. When the Horn was stolen, Moiraine Sedai graciously sent her new Warder to track it down, defeating the Myrddraal in single combat, and slaying five Darkfriends to retrieve the Horn.”

A roar filled the room, that quieted when the Amyrlin stood. I hurriedly put my hand to my chest, and so did others in the crowd.

The Amyrlin spoke next. “In the wake of last night’s tragedy and betrayal, I urge you to not give up hope. Hope for a better tomorrow, hope for the Light, hope for the defeat of the Shadow and an Age of Blessings, sheltered by the Creator’s Hand. I see His Hand in the actions of last night, that the Wheel wove such tragedy with a perfect happy ending. Lord Rand represents this hope, and when he rides out today to deliver the Horn he found, it will be as Lord Drake, so’shan !” On that cue I transformed, and the crowd went wild, chanting my title as if it would ward off the Dark One himself. When they quieted after the Amyrlin raised a hand, she continued. “Many tales tell of the strange powers chinnar’veren had, the many Talents we have lost. I have witness Lord Drake’s talent and it must be seen to be believed. He spits flame, a flame of many colors that is gentle to any who walk in the Light, yet burns the Shadow to ash. He used this flame to kill five Darkfriends and the Myrddraal who lead the fist of Trollocs that caused such suffering. The Light Preserve Lord Drake!”

“The Light Preserve Lord Drake!” came the resounding, echoing response.

I seized saidin , thin tendrils of smoke coming from my nostrils as I spat a tongue of dragonfire, iridescent and radiant, reaching out with a thread of Fire and a hand to gently grasp it, and shape it into a ball. With a casual hand I tossed it to Moiraine, who caught it. The crowd gasped. She tossed it back to me and I caught it, never once not having control over the flame with a thread of Fire. It was a game we played with Torchlights, tossing them back and forth, as I maintained the weave, and seemed appropriate today. As I demonstrated the flame more, a servant in black and gold livery approached with a wooden box, which I opened the top to reveal a bullish Trollocs head, bloody and stinking.

I spoke the lines that the Amyrlin had given me. “Those of the Light stay unburnt, while the taint of the Shadow burns brightly in this sacred fire!” I shouted, over the cries of fear and anger at the sight of the decapitated Trolloc head. I picked it up by the horns, grateful for the Oneness to mute my disgust and breathed flame. The head caught fire like oil in a pan, instantly blazing, flesh melting by my hand staying unburnt. I passed it to Moiraine who raised the head by the horns as it burnt merrily, before passing it back to me.

I held the head, rapidly disintegrating, dusting my clothes and the dais in white ash. I could feel something come over me, a kind of joy, and I spoke the words that came to mind. “The flames you see are the Flame Imperishable, the Light that fills each and every soul with the glory of the Creator. No work of the Dark One can withstand it! This is what you lose when you become a Darkfriend, you lose that ember of Light inside you. I saw each Darkfriend I killed burn without burning, their skin clear of blemishes and wounds, some inner darkness inside of them consumed by the Flame Imperishable until they died. Do not let the Light of your souls go out, Shienar. Do not let these betrayals shake you! We are filled with His Light, always!” Even the horns burnt and I dropped the remains, scattering ashes on the dais.

The crowd stood silent, shocked act my revelations and some seeming to even believe them. Then the shouts came once more.

“Lord Drake! Light Preserve Lord Drake!”

“al’Thor! al’Thor!”

“Lord Drake!”

It was unlike anything I had ever experienced and I let it wash over me, basking in my triumph.

The outer courtyard was in ordered turmoil when I finally reached it with my saddlebags and the bundle containing the harp and flute. The sun climbed toward midday. Men hurried around the horses, tugging at saddle girths and pack harness, voices raised. Others darted with last-minute additions to the packsaddles, or water for the men working, or dashed off to fetch something just remembered. But everyone seemed to know exactly what they were doing and where they were going. The guardwalks and archers’ balconies were crowded again, and excitement crackled in the morning air. Hooves clattered on the paving stones. One of the packhorses began kicking, and stablemen ran to calm it. The smell of horses hung thick. My cloak tried to flap in the breeze that rippled the swooping-hawk banners on the towers, but my bow, slung across my back, held it down.

From outside the open gates came the sounds of the Amyrlin’s pikemen and archers forming up in the square. They had marched around from a side gate. One of the trumpeters tested his horn. Some of the Warders glanced at me as I walked across the courtyard; a few raised eyebrows when they saw me and the heron-mark sword, but none spoke. Half wore the cloaks that were so queasy-making to look at. Mandarb, Lan’s stallion, was there, tall, and black, and fierce-eyed, but the man himself was not, and none of the Aes Sedai, none of the women, were in evidence yet either. Moiraine’s white mare, Aldieb, stepped daintily beside the stallion. We would be leaving first, to scout the way for the Amyrlin Seat.

My bay stallion was with the other group on the far side of the courtyard, with Ingtar, and a bannerman holding Ingtar’s Gray Owl banner, and twenty other armored men with lances tipped with two feet of steel, all mounted already. The bars of their helmets covered their faces, and golden surcoats with the Black Hawk on the chest hid their plate-and-mail. Only Ingtar’s helmet had a crest, a crescent moon above his brow, points up. I recognized some of the men. Rough-tongued Uno, with a long scar down his face and only one eye. Ragan and Masema. Others who had exchanged a word or played a game of stones. Ragan waved to him, and Uno nodded, and Masema stared at me with a look of hate, though he was not the only one who stared, the others with awe in their eyes. Their packhorses stood placidly, tails swishing.

The big bay danced as I tied his saddlebags and bundle behind the high-cantled saddle. I put my foot in the stirrup and murmured, “Easy, Red,” as I swung into the saddle, but I let the stallion frisk away some of his stable-bound energy.

To my surprise, Loial appeared from the direction of the stables, riding to join them. The Ogier’s hairy-fetlocked mount was as big and heavy as a prime Dhurran stallion. Beside it, all the other animals looked the size of Bela, but with Loial in the saddle, the horse seemed almost a pony.

Loial carried no weapon that I could see; he had never heard of any Ogier using a weapon. Their stedding were protection enough. And Loial had his own priorities, his own ideas of what was needed for a journey. The pockets of his long coat had a telltale bulge, and his saddlebags showed the square imprints of books. The Ogier stopped his horse a little way off and looked at me, his tufted ears twitching uncertainly.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” I said. “I would have thought you had enough adventure, after the Eye and the Ways, of traveling with us. This time there’s no telling how long it will be, but I mean to be in Illian before three months pass.”

Loial’s ears lifted a little. “There was no telling when I first met you, either. Besides, what held then, holds now. I can’t let the chance pass to see history actually weave itself around ta’veren and chinnar’veren . And to help guard the Horn to its resting spot....”

Mat and Perrin rode up behind Loial and paused. Mat looked a little tired around the eyes, but his face wore a bloom of health. Moiraine and the Amyrlin Seat and a few other Aes Sedai worked together to heal him earlier, apparently. Moiraine had apologized for leaving without waking me.

“Feeling better Mat?”

He ignored me, sneering at my scarlet coat, the embroidered golden dragons curling round my arms drawing his eye.

“And you Perrin?”

“Good Rand, got a good night's sleep, and no dreams this time.”

Perrin sometimes had strange dreams, like we three ta’veren sometimes did, but his had to do with wolves more often than not. They worried him, scared him even I would say. He did not speak much about them, or about his eyes, golden and shining in the late morning sun but I was sure something connected them, somehow.

“That’s good to hear. Will you be riding with—”

“He’s riding with me, my Lord ,” Mat drawled out. “It is not good for you to spend time around your inferiors anymore. Shouldn’t you be with your bloody Aes Sedai anyways? You have your bond and your silly little romance." He paused, seeming to argue with himself, before he spoke one final line. "She’s tricking you, you know.” Then he turned around and left. Anger flared but I let them leave, unwilling to fight in public. Mat took Perrin to the opposite end, farthest from me.

The Amyrlin appeared, striding across the crowded courtyard beside Moiraine, with Leane Sedai and her staff, and Lord Agelmar at her shoulder. Even in a green velvet coat, the Lord of Fal Dara did not look out of place among so many armored men. There was still no sign of the other Aes Sedai. As they went by, I caught part of their conversation.

“But, Mother,” Agelmar was protesting, “you’ve had no time to rest from the journey here. Stay at least a few days more. I promise you a feast tonight such as you could hardly get in Tar Valon.”

The Amyrlin shook her head without breaking stride. “I cannot, Agelmar. You know I would if I could. I had never planned to remain long, and matters urgently require my presence in the White Tower. I should be there now.”

“Mother, it shames me that you come one day and leave the next. I swear to you, there will be no repetition of last night. I have tripled the guard on the city gates as well as the keep. I have tumblers in from the town, and a bard coming from Mos Shirare. Why, King Easar will be on his way from Fal Moran. I sent word as soon as...”

Their voices faded as they crossed the courtyard, swallowed up by the din of preparation. The Amyrlin never as much as glanced in my direction. Moiraine gave me a soft smile, and I smiled back.

Minutes passed, and The Warder the Amyrlin was speaking to suddenly sprang into his saddle. He was at a dead gallop before he reached the wide-standing gates. She stood watching him go, and her stance seemed to urge him to go faster.

“Where is he headed in such a hurry?” I wondered aloud.

“I heard,” Loial said, “that she was sending someone out today, all the way to Arad Doman. There is word of some sort of trouble on Almoth Plain, and the Amyrlin Seat wants to know exactly what. What I don’t understand is, why now? From what I hear, the rumors of this trouble came from Tar Valon with the Aes Sedai.”

I felt cold. Toman Head , it all comes down to Toman Head. I could remember a big map back in Egwene’s home, a map that the old Rand had pored over more than once, dreaming before he found out what the dreams were like when they came true. It was old, that map, showing some lands and nations the merchants from outside said no longer existed, but Almoth Plain was marked, butting against Toman Head. We will meet again on Toman Head. That was the writing left on the wall of Padan Fan’s cell, addressed to me. It was all the way across the world, I knew, on the Aryth Ocean. I laughed to myself. No we won’t, Fain. No we won’t.

The Ogier was still peering at the gate where the Warder had vanished. “If she wanted to know, why not send someone before she left Tar Valon? But you humans are always sudden and excitable, always jumping around and shouting.” His ears stiffened with embarrassment. “I am sorry, Rand. You see what I mean about speaking before I think. I’m rash and excitable sometimes myself, as you know.”

I laughed. It was a weak laugh, but it felt good to have something to laugh at. “Maybe if we lived as long as you Ogier, we’d be more settled.” Loial was ninety years old; by Ogier standards, not old enough by ten years to be outside the stedding alone. That he had gone anyway was proof, he maintained, of his rashness. If Loial was an excitable Ogier, I thought most of them must be made of stone.

“Perhaps so,” Loial mused, “but you humans do so much with your lives. We do nothing but huddle in our stedding . Planting the groves, and even the building, were all done before the Long Exile ended.” It was the groves Loial held dear, not the cities men remembered the Ogier for building. It was the groves, planted to remind Ogier Builders of the stedding, that Loial had left his home to see. “Since we found our way back to the stedding, we...” His words trailed off as the Amyrlin approached. Moiraine had mounted Aldieb, her white mare and made her way over to my side, Lan behind her, eyes shifting.

Ingtar and the other men shifted in their saddles, preparing to dismount and kneel, but she motioned them to stay as they were. Leane Sedai stood at her shoulder, and Agelmar a pace back. From his glum face, he appeared to have given up trying to convince her to remain longer.

The Amyrlin looked at them one by one before she spoke. Her gaze stayed on me longer than on any other.

“Peace favor your sword, Lord Ingtar, Lord Drake,” she said finally, giving me a knowing gaze. “Glory to the Builders, Loial Kiseran. Be safe, my Daughter.”

“You honor us, Mother. May peace favor Tar Valon.” Ingtar bowed in his saddle, and the other Shienarans did, too.

“All honor to Tar Valon,” Loial said, bowing.

I bowed as well from my saddle, awkwardly, and followed Loial’s example. “All honor to Tar Valon.” 

Only my two friends on the other side of the party stayed upright. Foolish. I wondered what she had said to them, to make Mat come. Leane Sedai's frown took in the two of them, and Agelmar’s eyes widened, but the Amyrlin took no notice.

“You ride to guard and deliver the Horn of Valere,” she said, “and the hope of the world rides with you. The Horn cannot fall into the wrong hands, especially in to Darkfriend hands. Those who come to answer its call, will come whoever blows it, and they are bound to the Horn, not to the Light.”

There was a stir among the listening men. Everyone believed those heroes called back from the grave would fight for the Light. If they could fight for the Shadow, instead...

“With you rides—” The Amyrlin went on, but I was no longer listening. Someone, somewhere was watching me. The hair stirred on the back of my neck. I peered up at the packed archers’ balconies overlooking the courtyard, at the rows of people jammed along the guardwalks atop the walls. Somewhere among them was the set of eyes that had followed me unseen. The gaze clung to me like dirty oil. It can’t be a Myrddraal, not here. Then who? Or what? I twisted in my saddle, pulling Red around, searching. The bay began to dance again.

Suddenly something flashed across in front of my face and I reached for saidin, as a tug in the bond pulled me into a circle. Moiraine stood in her saddle and scanned the crowd, a nimbus of gold-white surrounding her. A man passing behind the Amyrlin cried out and fell, a black-fletched arrow jutting from his side. The Amyrlin stood calmly looking at a rent in her sleeve; blood slowly stained the gray silk.

A woman screamed, and abruptly the courtyard rang with cries and shouts. The people on the walls milled furiously, and every man in the courtyard had his sword out. Even me, I was not that surprised to see. Lan had trained me with a furious energy, once he realized I could last longer than most men but Warders.

Agelmar shook his blade at the sky. “Find him!” he roared. “Bring him to me!” His face went from red to white when he saw the blood on the Amyrlin’s sleeve. He fell to his knees, head bowed. “Forgive, Mother. I have failed your safety. I am ashamed.”

“Nonsense, Agelmar,” the Amyrlin said. “Leane, stop fussing over me and see to that man. I’ve cut myself worse than this more than once cleaning fish, and he needs help now. Agelmar, stand up. Stand up, Lord of Fal Dara. You have not failed me, and you have no reason for shame. Last year in the White Tower, with my own guards at every gate and Warders all around me, a man with a knife came within five steps of me. A Whitecloak, no doubt, though I’ve no proof. Please stand up, or I will be shamed.” As Agelmar slowly rose, she fingered her sliced sleeve. “A poor shot for a Whitecloak bowman, or even a Darkfriend.” Her eyes flickered up to touch mine. “If it was at me he aimed.” Her gaze was gone before I could read anything on her face, but I suddenly wanted to dismount and hide.

It wasn’t aimed at her, and she knows it.

Leane Sedai, her nimbus of gold-white disappearing, straightened from where she had been kneeling. Someone had laid a cloak over the face of the man who had taken the arrow. “He is dead, Mother.” She sounded tired. “He was dead when he struck the ground. Even if I had been at his side...”

“You did what you could, Daughter. Death cannot be Healed.”

Agelmar moved closer. “Mother, if there are Whitecloak killers about, or Darkfriends, you must allow me to send men with you. As far as the river, at least. I could not live if harm came to you in Shienar. Please, return to the women’s apartments. I will see them guarded with my life until you are ready to travel.”

“Be at ease,” she told him. “This scratch will not delay me a moment. Yes, yes, I will gladly accept your men as far as the river, if you insist. Your leave, Lord Agelmar, to order your oathmen?”

He bowed his head in assent. At that moment he would have given her Fal Dara had she asked.

The Amyrlin turned back to Ingtar, and the men gathered behind him. She did not look at me again. I was surprised to see her smile suddenly.

“I wager Illian does not give its Great Hunt of the Horn so rousing a send-off,” she said. “But yours is the true Great Hunt. You are few, so you may travel quickly, yet enough to do what you must. I charge you, Lord Ingtar of House Shinowa, I charge all of you, defend the Horn of Valere, and let nothing bar your way.”

Ingtar whipped his sword from his back and kissed the blade. “By my life and soul, by my House and honor, I swear it, Mother.”

“Then ride.”

Ingtar swung his horse toward the gate.

I dug my heels into Red’s flanks and galloped after the column already disappearing through the gates.

Unaware of what had occurred within, the Amyrlin’s pikemen and archers stood walling a path from the gates to the city proper, the Flame of Tar Valon on their chests. Her drummers and trumpeters waited near the gates, ready to fall in when she left. Behind the rows of armored men, people packed the square in front of the keep. Some cheered Ingtar’s banner, and others no doubt thought this was the start of the Amyrlin Seat’s departure. A swelling roar followed me across the square, shouts of Lord Drake beginning to fill the air. I raced ahead, Moiraine staying behind to speak with the Amyrlin Seat before she left.

I caught up with Ingtar where low-eaved houses and shops stood to either side, and more people thickly lined the stone-paved street. Some of them cheered, too. Mat and Perrin had been riding at the head of the column with Ingtar and Loial, but the two of them fell back when I joined them. Damn me, at least he is not dying anymore, but would it hurt him to stand my presence for two seconds? I promised myself to take some time on our journey to make it right.

“Changu and Nidao are gone, Lord Drake,” Ingtar said abruptly. He sounded cold and angry, but shaken, too. “We counted every head in the keep, alive or dead, last night and again this morning. They are the only ones not accounted for.”

“Changu was on guard in the dungeon yesterday, Lord Shinowa,” I said slowly, emphasizing his name.

“And Nidao. They had the second watch. They always stayed together, even if they had to trade or do extra duty for it. They were not on guard when it happened, but... They fought at Tarwin’s Gap, a month gone, and saved Lord Agelmar when his horse went down with Trollocs all around him. Now this. Darkfriends.” He drew a deep breath. “Everything is breaking apart. If we had not had you, Lord Drake, then we would have lost the Horn to the Shadow. Shienar is blessed every day you step a foot in her lands. We will need more of you before the year is out.”

“Please, just call me Rand.”

He gave me a brief, but genuine smile, revealing a handsome man out of the stern, hard face. “Then call me Ingtar, Rand, not Lord Shinowa.”

Chapter Text

Amadaine 3, 998 NE (June 10th)

We rode hard for the first few hours, passing through foothills and forest on our way straight west to Medo—a port on the Mora river—before Ingtar realized what we all had realized already; his pace was going to kill the horses. Reluctantly, he started us dismounting whenever we went down hills to give the horses some rest while we still kept moving.

It was stunning to see men in full armor jogging every time we encountered the downslope, though Perrin and Mat were near exhaustion by the time Moiraine finally arrived. Loial, on the other hand, loved getting off his large, sturdy horse and running freely in the bright spring day. “I once outran a horse in Stedding Shangtai,” he told me grinning as he jogged down one of the many hills. I did not disbelieve him, especially when he ran alongside his horse up the hills as well, easily keeping up.

It was long after the sun had started its journey back downward that Moiraine and Lan came riding up to us where we took a quick rest, neither them nor their horses winded. The up and down nature of our ride had worn a toll on Mat and Perrin who were drenched in sweat, and guzzling down water. Moiraine felt worried, had felt worried for about an hour now, but none of it showed on her face.

“Hail and well met, Moiraine Sedai, Lan Dai Shan,” Ingtar called out, a little tired. “I was wondering if you would show today.”

Moiraine gracefully dismounted from her white mare, Aldieb, while Lan stayed mounted. She wore a dark blue riding dress, with tan divided skirts, and a cream riding cloak, embroidered with vines of grapes, golden hoop earrings, and a belt of silver that emphasized her thin waist. At a quiet murmur, and with a muttered declaration, Lan turned and began galloping to the northeast. I quickly walked up to take her side and keep watch now that Lan had gone. She smiled at me, but addressed Ingtar. “My sisters took more of my time than I had planned, but I am afraid I bear bad news. Half a fist of Trollocs appears to be shadowing us, led by a Myrddraal.”

Energy seemed to fill Lord Ingtar, and he stood straighter. “So the enemy thinks to wait until we are asleep to ambush us. That will be their downfall. I know of an excellent place to camp. Men, prepare your horses. We must gallop and canter if we are to make it in time.”

Uno spoke up, spitting first to the side, “Pardon my language, Mistress Aes Sedai, but the bloody horses don’t have the flaming vigor to go hard the rest of the bloody fool way, Lord Shinowa.”

Ingtar frowned and made to speak, but Moiraine superseded his response.

“Lord Shinowa, your horses and men seem tired and road worn already, as your good man Uno has made clear. You made good time today, but I do not know if they can take much more wear this evening. Perhaps if I restored their stamina with the One Power, as much as I am able?”

Ingtar looked upon the Aes Sedai like light shone from her, eyes fevered. “If you are willing, Moiraine Sedai, then yes! I would be a fool to deny your help, and we are lucky to have you with us on our quest. Please.”

I joined in a circle with Moiraine, and watched her weave saidar into a fine net of Spirit, Air and Fire that she lay on heads, pulling the poison of fatigue from the minds of the men and horses as the weave sunk in beneath their skin. We had maybe an hour and a half of sunlight when we finished, the twenty-three horses and twenty-three men drained Moiraine despite how much more she could channel when joined with me. Still, she looked happy rather than tired.

As we moved together to mount up, her mare next to my stallion, she whispered quietly. “Have I ever told you how much I love we can join in a circle so easily? The power you give me…” She sighed, in a way I would call dreamy, if it was not coming from an Aes Sedai. Louder, enough that some soldiers nearby turned, she said, “You are truly a gift given to me by the Creator, hand-wrapped with a bow, Rand al’Thor.”

Then she stood up on her toes, pulling on me so I would bend down and kissed me softly on the lips. Moiraine surprised me, but I joined in the kiss, blushing profusely and my heart beating fast. After, I wore a grin no one could wipe off my face, not even Mat. It was stupid and silly; I had done so much more with Egwene, had made love and learned her body in our wonderful nights together, and yet these simple things that Moiraine does still makes me callow boy. She is a snake, I reminded myself.

We stopped for the first night in a shallow bowl well defensible, and easily picketed. I stopped to grab my things from the pannier, to change my coat to something more useful and less ostentatious, but something caused me to shout a loud “Moiraine!” into the twilight. I should have expected this from her.

Ingtar came running over, while Moiraine was much more sedate. She calmy got up from where she sat in the grass, cross-legged, and slowly walked over.

“What is it? Peace, did someone get through? I did not hear the guards,” said a confused Ingtar.

I held up the two other coat the Aes Sedai had packed for me. One was a bright green with brown piping, embroidered with silver trees that held thread-of-gold apples, the other was black with golden piping, thread-of-silver stars dusting the shoulders. The green had herons on the collar, the black had dragons coiling down the arm. Both were insanely ostentatious. “These are unwearable!”

“You can wear them. A coat’s a coat. I understand Moiraine Sedai herself saw to your packing. Maybe Aes Sedai do not exactly understand what a man wears in the field.” Ingtar grinned. “After we catch these Trollocs, perhaps we’ll have a feast. You will be dressed for it, at least, even if the rest of us are not.” He strolled back to where the cook fires were already burning, passing by Moiraine, who gave him a smile.

“What is this, Moiraine?” I asked when she finally arrived.

“Ah, you found your coats. Yes, I thought it would be worth it to have something to wear when we reach Illian, and when you need to pass as a nobleman.” She paused, then her voice took on a teasing tone, with a hint of warning. “Did you think these were the only coats I packed? You think me a silly twit? Your nice clothes are with the packhorses, the nice coats and silk shirts, but Lan has your clothes for travel. You packed nothing worthwhile, so I had it repacked, and we brought it with us.”

Lan had returned by then, reporting that the Trolloc fist had split into small bands, all heading south. She opened Mandarb’s saddlebags showed me the less ostentatious and gold-filled clothing that was my ‘travel’ clothing. All well-made, well-cut tailored clothing for a lord and not clothes for me, just Rand. I sighed. I should have expected this, she does love to dress me up. I kept my coat, figuring it fine for the evening chill.

Shienarans took turns at the cooking when they were in the field, and Masema was stirring the kettle when I returned to the fires. The smell of a stew made from turnips, onions, and dried meat settled over the camp. Ingtar was served first, and then Uno, but everyone else stood in line however they happened to come. Masema slopped a big ladle of stew on my plate; I stepped back quickly to keep from getting the overflow on my scarlet coat and made room for the next man while sucking my burned thumb. Masema stared at me, with a fixed grin that never reached his eyes, until Uno stepped up and cuffed him.

“We didn’t bloody bring enough for you to be spilling it on the flaming ground.” The one-eyed man looked at me and left. Masema rubbed his ear, but his glare followed me.

Moiraine stood speaking with Lan on the far side of camp, not having grabbed a plate yet, so I went to join Ingtar and Loial, sitting on the ground under a spreading oak. Ingtar had his helmet off, on the ground beside him, but otherwise he was fully armored. Mat and Perrin were already there, eating hungrily. Mat gave a broad sneer at my coat, but Perrin barely looked up, golden eyes shining in the half-light from the fires, before bending back to his plate.

At least they didn’t leave this time.

I sat cross-legged on the other side of Ingtar from them. “I wish I knew why Uno keeps looking at me. It’s probably this damn coat.”

Ingtar paused thoughtfully around a mouthful of stew. Finally he said, “Uno no doubt wonders if you are worthy of a heron-mark blade.” Mat snorted loudly, but Ingtar went on unperturbed. “Do not let Uno upset you. He would treat Lord Agelmar like a raw recruit if he could. Well, perhaps not Agelmar, but anyone else. He has a tongue like a file, but he gives good advice. He should; he’s been campaigning since before I was born. Listen to his advice, don’t mind his tongue, and you will do all right with Uno.”

“I thought he was like Masema.” I shoveled stew into my mouth. It was too hot, but I gulped it down. We had not eaten since leaving Fal Dara, and I had been too worried to eat this morning when Lan woke me up. My stomach rumbled, reminding me it was past time. I wondered if telling Masema I liked the food would help. “Masema acts like he hates me, and I don’t understand it.”

“Masema served three years in the Eastern Marches,” Ingtar said. “At Ankor Dail, against the Aiel.” He stirred his stew with his spoon, frowning. “I ask no questions, mind. If Lan Dai Shan and Moiraine Sedai want to say you are from Andor, from the Two Rivers, then you are. But Masema can’t get the look of the Aiel out of his head, and when he sees you...” He shrugged. “I ask no questions.”

I dropped my spoon in the plate with a sigh. “Everybody thinks I’m somebody I am not. I am from the Two Rivers, Ingtar. I grew tabac with… with my father, and tended his sheep. That is what I am. A farmer and shepherd from the Two Rivers. I am no Lord.”

“He’s from the Two Rivers,” Mat said scornfully. “I grew up with him, though you’d never know it now. You put this Aiel nonsense in his head on top of what’s already there, and the Light knows what we’ll have. An Aiel lord, maybe.”

“No,” Loial said, “he has the look. You remember, Rand, I remarked on it once, though I thought it was just because I didn’t know you humans well enough then. Remember? ‘Till shade is gone, till water is gone, into the Shadow with teeth bared, screaming defiance with the last breath, to spit in Sightblinder’s eye on the Last Day.’ You remember, Rand? Well, maybe you don’t.”

I stared at my plate. Wrap a shoufa around your head, and you would be the image of an Aielman. That had been Gawyn, brother to Elayne, the Daughter-Heir of Andor. Is it really that obvious? I knew I probably was Aiel, as much as I’d like to deny the memories of what my father said. Enough people say something and it seems true.

“What was that?” Mat asked. “About spitting in the Dark One’s eye.”

“That’s how long the Aiel say they’ll fight,” Ingtar said, “and I don’t doubt they will. Except for peddlers and gleemen, Aiel divide the world in two. Aiel, and enemies. They changed that for Cairhien five hundred years ago, for some reason no one but an Aiel could understand, but I do not think they will ever do so again.”

“I suppose not,” Loial sighed. “But they do let the Tuatha’an, the Traveling People, cross the Waste. And they don’t see Ogier as enemies, either, though I doubt any of us would want to go out into the Waste. Aiel come to Stedding Shangtai sometimes to trade for sung wood. A hard people, though.”

Ingtar nodded. “I wish I had some as hard. Half as hard.”

“Is that a joke?” Mat laughed. “If I ran a mile wearing all the iron you’re wearing, I would fall down and sleep a week.”

“Aiel are hard,” Ingtar said. “Man and woman, hard. I’ve fought them, and I know. They will run fifty miles, and fight a battle at the end of it. They’re death walking, with any weapon or none. Except a sword. They will not touch a sword, for some reason. Or ride a horse, not that they need to. If you have a sword, and the Aielman has his bare hands, it is an even fight. If you’re good. They herd cattle and goats where you or I would die of thirst before the day was done. They dig their villages into huge rock spires out in the Waste. They’ve been there since the Breaking, near enough. Artur Hawkwing tried to dig them out and was bloodied, the only major defeats he ever suffered. By day the air in the Aiel Waste shimmers with heat, and by night it freezes. And an Aiel will give you that blue-eyed stare and tell you there is no place on earth he would rather be. He won’t be lying, either. If they ever tried to come out, we would be hard-pressed to stop them. The Aiel War lasted three years, and that was only four out of thirteen clans.”

“Gray eyes from his mother doesn’t make him an Aiel,” Mat said.

Ingtar shrugged. “I ask no questions.”

I finally spoke up, nervous, sparing a look at Perrin and Mat. “I think I am an Aiel, you know. Enough people have told me the same thing, and I did not ask him, but when I carried my father on Winternight, fevered from a Fade’s sword, he spoke to me, of finding me in the cloak of an Aiel Maiden of the Spear. At the time I thought it simply the fever talking, but I’ll have to ask him the truth next time I see him.”

“As I said before, if Moiraine Sedai says you are an Andoran from the Two Rivers, that is what you are. But your father, he survived a Myrddraal’s sword and lived to tell the tale? Few can claim that,” Ingtar said, surprised.

“He was a blademaster,” I replied proudly. “Moiraine healed him, it was my price for accompanying her out of the Two Rivers.”

Ingtar nodded slowly. “I see, I see. So that is why you wear the sword. A good price to pay, a life for a life. Myrddraal wounds never heal right, even when they don’t kill, unless an Aes Sedai is there quick enough. I've seen too many good men die from a seemingly simple wound by a Myrddraal's blade. You were lucky, Rand.”

“I have been. Sometimes it feels like too much luck and sometimes not enough. But I am lucky.” I couldn't help glancing over toward Moiraine. Masema was plating her food while she spoke to him quietly, and he nodded his head in acceptance.

Ingtar followed my eyes and chuckled. “Too much luck, I think. Usually men know better than to try to seduce an Aes Sedai, and the Warder handles the fools. But you seemed to have threaded the needle, one of the few to be accepted in an Aes Sedai’s heart. The men spend far too much time wondering how you did it. They gossip so much one would think they were maids.”

Mat was eager to correct Ingtar. “I think you got it wrong, Ingtar. Moiraine Sedai was definitely the one that seduced Rand. He folded to her like a wet piece of a paper, didn’t even wait a week to let her tie a leash around his neck. No way someone like him seduced her.”

I held my tongue as Moiraine finished speaking with Masema, and set about coming over to us, my anger simmering. I needed to speak with Mat, alone and soon. He could not keep his dumb mouth shut. Ingtar spoke for me, after glancing at my face. “It would have to be a man braver than me to deny an Aes Sedai and her desires, professional or personal. Braver or more foolish. Lord Drake does not seem a fool, and he dueled a Myrddraal to the death. Aes Sedai get what they want. It is simply easier to let them have it, then try futilely fighting against the rockslide.”

“Bah, lord this, lord that. We did not have lords back in the Two Rivers and we did just fine. Didn’t have bloody Aes Sedai either, telling us where to hop and how fast to run. Better that way, more natural. Rand is stubborn, yes, but he used to be stubbornly independent, not stubbornly the blasted pet of some woman. Bloody Aes Sedai changed him.” He muttered the last bit as Moiraine stepped into our circle near the tree, face cold and imperious, annoyance and anger softly simmering in the bond, twin to my own.

Her eyes flashed as she spoke, quiet and cold. “Matrim Cauthon, someday soon you’ll have to realize you aren’t in the Two Rivers anymore, that the world is far larger and more dangerous than you could ever know. Most other lords or ladies hear you talking that way, most Aes Sedai hear those words out of your mouth, and the only noise you’ll make is a cry as you are whipped or paddled, maybe even hung for treason by an overzealous noble. Whatever issue you have with Rand, you need to deal with it soon. If you get caught saying such things about Rand in Illian, I may not be able to protect you like I have been. The two of you can go out a hundred paces and you will work it out before you return to sleep tonight. Both of you, Rand,” She stared piercingly at both of us and I felt indignant; it wasn’t as if I had done anything truly wrong to Mat. I realized though that it was probably the best choice, and she was most likely upset with Mat and not me, but it still felt targeted.

In the silence that followed Mat went to mutter something then thought better of it, glancing back at the Aes Sedai but not moving. Perrin stood up, “I’ll come with them, make sure they talk things out, Moiraine Sedai. With me there they'll have to speak.”

Moiraine smiled a beautiful smile, radiant even in the deepening twilight, that made Perrin blush, and a sense of relief calmed her annoyance and anger. “Thank you, Perrin. I would appreciate it greatly. Make sure these two young fools don’t come to blows. Mat would not survive.” And with that blow landed, she ate.

After we finished eating we left, leaving Moiraine and Lord Ingtar in quiet discussion as Mat moved quickly ahead of me and Perrin, leaving us behind, his torch weaving between tree trunks. Night had truly fallen, and nightbirds called out their evening songs, while nearby bushes occasionally rustled with the movement of nocturnal animals. The stars were spangled above us, visible through the gaps in the trees.

“I’m really sorry about Mat. I’ve tried to explain to him, why I think you’re doing what you are doing, but he doesn’t listen. I think the dagger…” He trailed off, his golden eyes shining in the torchlight.

When he did not continue, I finished. “It changed him, the same way this journey has changed us. He’s harsher, easier to make mad, different. But I’m different, and even you’re different, with as solid and reliable you can be.”

Perrin nodded. “He knows too. It scares him what the dagger did. How it changed him.”

I snorted. “If anyone should be scared, it is me. I'm the bloody Dragon, and the Dark One wants to kill me. I think he just wants someone to be mad at, and I’m the easiest, the one who changed the most. I'm the one whose embraced my fate rather than running, and the Wheel rewarded me as much as its cursed me.”

Perrin didn't reply, a thoughtful look on his face.

Mat finally stopped in a clearing with a small patch of sleepingbells and berry bushes with clusters of tiny black fruit, shining in the light of three torches.

He stood, leaning against a tree, in a lazy slouch with none of the killing grace of a Warder, anger radiating. “Let’s get this over with.” He stood up, walking closer, arms crossed. “Why do you do whatever she says? She doesn’t love you. She probably doesn’t even like you. The Rand I knew would never have let her truss him up like a feastday pig, ready for slaughter. You bloody ran from Egwene for a year rather than let her tie you down, yet this Aes Sedai comes around and you roll over like a dog? You cannot trust her, or any flaming Aes Sedai Rand, you should know that! Did you forget that too? I asked Loial about those names, the ones from the dreams. They’re all false Dragons, Rand. And I know he lies, but not everything he says is a lie. There’s some truth to it. She’s trussing you up for slaughter, Rand, I just know it.” He sounded desperate by the end, something lurking in his eyes.

“And instead of bloody fighting, instead of trying to get away, you let her dress you up like a dandy and flit into your bed like a flaming milk-faced looseskirt, letting her cloud your mind and heart. Are you an idiot who simply believes every word out of her mouth simply because she cannot lie? You let her name you Lord—Rand al’Thor, a shepherd and tabac farmer, Lord—let these good Shienaran folks think you’re actually nobility, all because she said so. I tried telling them otherwise, but no, the Aes Sedai said you were a lord and that’s all they hear.” He flung his hands in the air in frustration. “Mother’s milk in a cup, Rand, will you meekly kneel because she asks when she gentles you? Yes, I know you can channel. It is pretty obvious when you think about it. What else would Moiraine be teaching both Egwene and you that leaves you so exhausted after a supposedly 'romantic' picnic? It’s like I’m the only one who can see what is happening here ends with your death. Maybe I don’t want my friend to commit suicide by Aes Sedai, or die of madness.” His cheeks were red and perspiration covered his forehead.

I understood now. I was angry, but I understood. He did not know the binding that wove her tight and snug to me, preventing her from harming me. He did not know I could channel without the Taint touching me, when I was a chinnar’veren. That dagger had poisoned him, the evil within it making him harsher and more paranoid, as did the dreams he probably still had, not protected by sleeping next to a woman who could channel. He saw what he saw and drew the obvious conclusion from what information he knew; the tales told in the Two Rivers, and what the gleeman told us, merchant’s guard horror stories and the tantalizing clues left by Ba’alzamon.

“She cannot harm me.” I said, and the words spilled out. “She searched for me for nineteen years, spent all her adult life preparing to guide me. She cannot harm me, cannot even order someone else to hurt me. She could never gentle me, never even take part. There is a binding that ties us together, it has a Compulsion. It uses the One Power to make sure she can never hurt me, cannot even try. It even… it even makes her care for me, romantically. That's why she acts like… that around me. She is the only Aes Sedai I can ever truly trust because of it.”

Perrin and Mat looked at me strangely, before Mat burst out laughing, and Perrin frowned at him.

I took a deep calming breath, before I looked Mat straight in the eyes. “What's so fucking funny?” Maybe I wasn’t so calm.

“All these… All these soldiers…” Mat laughs more, wheezing and wiping his eyes of tears. “They think you're this romantic genius, this paragon of manhood who plucked the forbidden fruit of the Aes Sedia! And it just fell into your flaming lap, just like everything else." He wheezed again. "Oh my, that is funny. I had wondered what she had done to you, what witchery she had entangled your heart in, and it turns out the witchery is all yours!”

“Yes, yes, the witchery is all mine. Moiraine cannot hurt me and the bond forces her to care for me. It’s wonderful,” I said sarcastically. “Does that assuage your fears that you took out by getting angry with me?”

He frowned and made to speak but Perrin interrupted him. “I think that's a reasonable question Mat.”

Mat harrumphed and walked backwards, leaning against the tree once more, giving me a serious look. “I guess you are the one holding the leash, romantically. Doesn't change she trying to make you a False Dragon though, just like those other men. Loial says ‘History dooms those who do not know it to repeat it.’ I read about the False Dragons, I read histories in Fal Dara that Loial recommended, and two had at least one woman by their side with young faces and knowing eyes. He lies with the truth, and the truth is Aes Sedai assisted some of the False Dragons. I don’t want to see my friend hanged or killed for an Aes Sedai plot that he just allows to happen.”

“I am no False Dragon, Mat. Since you have not already figured it out like Perrin and Loial, I am the Dragon Reborn.” Mat’s face soured and he remained skeptical. “Truly. I am. The banner, you remember? I transform into that animal, into a dragon. That’s why I listen when she says jump, why I work so hard at the sword, and let everyone call me Lord Rand. I will be a lord one day, for true, hell I’ll be a King soon enough, and I need to learn, need to adjust, need to become more than just Rand al’Thor, shepherd and tabac farmer. I need to grow up. She is not leading me down some garden path to my death, but trying to help me win the Last Battle, Mat.”

Perrin spoke up, earnest. “He is the Dragon Reborn, Mat. I… I spent some time in the library, reading the Karatheon Cycle with Loial.” Perrin glanced at me, then away. “He’s fulfilled prophecy already, Mat. ‘Twice and twice shall he be marked, twice to live, and twice to die. Once the heron, to set his path, twice the heron, to name him true. Once the Dragon, for remembrance lost, twice the Dragon, for the price he must pay,’” he quoted. “Show Mat your right hand, Rand.”

So that is what Moiraine was muttering about the morning I fought Ba’alzamon a second time, I realized. I would have to ask more about this Karatheon Cycle. I needed to know at least some prophecy, even if Moiraine had yet to tell me of any. I showed off the burn scar, in the perfect shape of a heron, then I pulled up my sleeve, showing off the coiling dragon.

“The Pattern has marked me twice already, when I bound Egwene the night after waking up with gaping holes in my memory, and last week when I fought Ba’alzamon in a dream. I am the Dragon. You can fight and whine and gnash your teeth, you can be angry or frustrated or scared, but do not be a wool-headed fool and deny the truth. I decided to not be a wool-headed fool and sought help from Moiraine Sedai. That’s why I listen to her.”

Mat looked sullen, then just tired. “I’m tired of all this storybook nonsense Rand. The dagger… I… I just want to go home. Watching you somehow get both Moiraine Sedai and Egwene to fall all over themselves for you, the Warder training you, dressing up all noble-like, always secreted away with the Aes Sedai, on your ‘picnics’, never visiting the barracks or us in our quarters. It’s like you forgot where we came from, forgot who you were.”

Perrin nodded, staring off into the distance south. “I miss home too, Mat, and some things Rand does made little sense to me, but I trust he knows what he was doing. I think he deserves that trust from you too, not scorn or disdain. And how could he have visited you, when you were the one who rejected him so swiftly after the reveal of his status as a shapechanger?”

“In case you’ve disregarded what I’ve said before, I forgot most of home, Mat, and who I am. It’s not something I like to think of, the huge gaping holes in my memory where most of Emond’s Field and my history lies. I am sorry I am not the Rand you think I should be, but I can only be who I am now, and that Rand is the Dragon Reborn,” I said with a note of finality.

Looking this way and that, as if to make sure no one else was listening, Mat spoke quietly, embarrassed. “The dagger, it… it made me forget things too. Light, I forgot my youngest sister’s name. I can see her, the wild brown hair and the dirty skirt of her dress after she comes home from playing with the al’Carr boy, but I cannot remember her name. Other things, like the taste of my mother’s gooseberry pie, or huge swathes of my childhood, ages seven and eight, are just gone.”

“I cannot remember what Egwene’s father looks like, and in the memories I watched everyone’s voice was like the hissing of snakes. I did not even know you had sisters, or that the al’Carr’s were a family. We all have changed Mat. Me, you, even Perrin, he did not use to have golden eyes. Lan told me it was okay to change, that everyone changes. I think its better to accept that change, then long for something you are not and never can be again.” I stared firmly at Mat, hoping my words would get through to him.

Perrin squirmed uncomfortably to the side, looking away.

Mat stared into my face, searching for something and seeming to find it. He nodded slowly. “She really cannot hurt you, cannot gentle you? You are certain.”

“I may still die from the Dark One, the Creator’s Hand shelter me from his wrath, but I plan on living a long and fruitful life with my wives, Mat. I am not walking straight into a noose smiling.”

“Wives?” Perrin asked, confused.

I scratch the back of my head, twisting my expression. “Yeah… That whole binding thing with Moiraine Sedai? I did it to Egwene as well, and I have to do it to with four other women. It is a prophecy a spirit of the Creator gave me.”

Perrin looked frustrated. “How do you get all the luck with women? Girls have always loved you, you understand them, and now you get six women set on a platter like a feastday cake, including the prettiest girl in the village, and a beautiful Aes Sedai. You really have all the luck, Rand. All I got are these stupid eyes.”

“How is it lucky!?” I exclaimed, confused. Did Perrin really think that about me?

“I’m with Rand, I don’t know if having six wives can count as luck or a curse, Perrin,” Mat said, snickering. “Light, six women. Nightmare, definitely.”

“Vindication!” I replied, before laughing at the absurdity of my romantic situation. “Six bloody women. Definitely a lucky curse, or I have cursed luck.”

“I still think you’re lucky, Rand. And you know they’ll love you now, so it is like you cannot even have an unhappy marriage,” Perrin said. “I wish I had that,” he grumbled in a low voice, frowning.

As I was about to reply I suddenly felt an oily sensation on my skin. I sensed shadowspawn—a dozen Trollocs—north of us, moving swiftly south. “Light, speaking of cursed luck, Trollocs! I feel them north of here.” Mat looked around uneasily, and Perrin thumbed the haft of his axe. “Return to camp, I’ll hold them off,” I continued. This was my chance, I thought, to test my skill against shadowspawn.

Mat booked it immediately, Perrin hesitating until I glared at him. “Do you want to die, Perrin? There's a dozen of them. Let Moiraine Sedai know I’ll be back as soon as I’m able.” He finally turned and ran after Mat.

I pulled on the energy beneath my skin and transformed in a moment that stretched like taffy, and waited a long minute for the enemy. When a dozen Trollocs came loping through the treeline into the clearing I was in so’shan, standing regal in the Lord Form, a contemptuous look on my face. I had achieved ko’di, finding the Oneness in me and my surroundings, holding the hilt of my sheathed blade. The shadowspawn came to a stumbling pause at the sight of me, some atavistic fear that had lain in wait since the last chinnar’veren died. No Myrddraal led them.

“Come at me, twisted beasts. I will ease your suffering.” There was an eagerness in my voice and eyes, and a Trolloc with a wolf's head stepped forward, seemingly just as eager after shaking off the fear and drawing his jagged black blade.

“Kark will drink lizard man blood tonight. Kark fights alone.”

The other Trollocs backed off, save a Trolloc with a bull’s head who stubbornly joined this Kark, a massive axe in hand. “Tor joins,” the Trolloc stubbornly bellowed.

Kark considered Tor, then nodded, a cruel smile on its snout. “Tor join, Kark share half.”

I stepped forward, seemingly casually but with a measure of the grace of a Warder or other killing men, as they spoke, content to ignore me and argue over ‘sharing’, until I was close enough to move with one swift motion. Unfolding the Fan swept my Power-wrought blade out and across, slicing through Kark’s guard with a peal of metal and a shower of blue sparks, tearing a ragged hole through the Trolloc’s armored stomach and spilling hot, wet, coiling intestines onto the forest floor. Kark howled in agony, and Tor roared, bringing its great axe over its head and down on me. I danced away, like a Cat On Hot Sand, and dashed for the other Trollocs who stood nearby, stunned at my lethality. After the third dead Trolloc on my blade, they attempted to swarm me, their hairy sweating bodies bunching up around me, weapons swinging wildly and even hitting each other as I ducked and dodged and leapt back, only taking glancing blows, their blades barely cutting me.

That was when I blew my dragonfire, tinged with the Flame Imperishable, the Light of the Creator. Trollocs melted like wax in my breath, the Shadow that created them failing before the gentle rainbow fire of Light that flowed from my mouth. When the last Trolloc fled, I almost let them go. Instead, I picked up a Trolloc’s hand axe and with the Oneness I threw it perfectly into the Trolloc’s back, before walking over to its raggedly breathing body and beheaded it.

Over the smoldering prismatic fires that lit the melted corpses I heard the clashing of steel to the south and finally noticed the increasing worry of Moiraine. Shit, I got too distracted by this group of Trollocs I did not even consider they would attack in multiple directions. Using the unburnt rags of a former Trolloc, I cleaned off my blade and headed back to camp as quick as I could.

Around forty Trollocs fought the Shienaran soldiers, some in armor, some half clothed getting ready to sleep, that formed a tightly packed square. Arrows of lightning ringed Moiraine’s staff before swiftly seeking the closest Trollocs and electrocuting them to death. Farther on, at the edge of camp Lan and Ingtar fought together against a Myrddraal, blue sparks filling the air every time Lan and the Halfman’s sword met. Mat and Perrin lay within the square, Mat’s quarterstaff poking out to disrupt a swing, or bonk a Trolloc every few seconds, while Perrin's axe bit and cleaved.

I headed for the closest concentration of Trollocs, a dozen who pressed the eastern wall of the soldier’s square, and roasted them. Moiraine’s worry faded like fog on a sunny day, replaced with a swift frustration tinged with anger and relief.

Twice more I concentrated on the densest groups, each time breaking the Trollocs with the encroaching flames, some dying as they turned their backs on the Shienarans, and the rest of the Trollocs fled. By this time the Myrddraal lay flailing on the ground, its legs and arms stumps, spitting invectives and curses at Lan and Ingtar.

Soldiers sat, catching their breath and resting on the ground, ignoring or even sitting on the corpses of Trollocs. Moiraine tended to injured men, speaking softly. Mat and Perrin stood staring at me, Mat with a considering look, but Perrin looked simply happy I was alive and waved to me. Three men lay on the ground, grievous wounds on their bodies and cloths over their eyes. I stared, wondering why Moiraine wasn’t treating them until I realized something and my stomach dropped.

I should have run. I shouldn’t have acted the hero. I should have been here to save those three men. I could have killed those dozen Trollocs with saidin in a dozen seconds. I could have been here sooner, but I wanted to fight them, wanted to test my skills. It was my fault they died. They were only here because of me, because I needed to be the one that delivered the Horn of Valere. And I was supposed to be a Warder. I was supposed to be with my Aes Sedai. I had made a mistake, waiting for the shadowspawn.

“Scales, care to light this snake up?”

I started, the interruption chasing away the thoughts that boiled in my mind, that had broken the Oneness so easily. I looked at Lan for a moment—What’s with the new nickname—before nodding, and walking with him over to the writhing corpse of the Myrddraal. Its pale skin seemed even more sallow, jets of ink-black blood pumping from the wounds and tainting the surrounding plantlife, turning them sickly and brown. I blew a tongue of flame and the Myrddraal caught on fire as if someone had doused it in oil, the blood and plants burning with it.

I turned to look at the Warder, ignoring Ingtar’s wide-eyed staring. “I messed up, Lan Gaidin.”

He nodded. “Pride is a failing swordsmen of all skill must guard against. What will you do differently next time?”

“Retreat to Moiraine Sedai and guard her, following her orders,” I said immediately.

He nodded once more. “Good. You understand your greatest mistake. You are a Warder now, Rand al'Thor. Your Aes Sedai is above your life, your pride and certainly above testing your skill. I trust you will not make this mistake again.”

My stomach churned. I really had messed up. I glanced to Moiraine, and she gave me an inscrutable look, the bond muffled. “Never, Lan Gaidin. Never.”

He nodded once more. “Good. Be sure to make up with Moiraine Sedai as soon as possible. She can be insufferable when she sulks, and she appreciates a grand gesture.” He smiled to himself for a moment.

“Thank you, Lan. I will speak with her as soon as possible.” And as I turned to go, Ingtar called out.

“Did your flame really kill men without touching their skin?” He trembled briefly, glancing at the pile of white ash that used to be a Myrddraal, and a momentary look of fear crossed his face.

I paused, wondering on what to tell Ingtar. He was in command of the Shienaran soldiers, and would soon enough know I am Dragon Reborn. I could lay the foundations for that tale by telling him about the Iridescent Flame. I looked to Lan. “Can I tell him about the Iridescent Flame?”

Lan shrugged, face bland. “That is your choice, Rand. But whatever you tell him, remember that I will tell Moiraine Sedai.”

I did not think simply telling him about the Creator’s Sacred Fire, and the spirit would be an issue. They were important, as who would not welcome the news of the Creator’s intervention in the world of man?

“What is the Iridescent Flame?” Ingtar asked, suddenly wary.

“When I became chinnar’veren, a spirit of the Creator visited me, calling themself the Iridescent Flame. They spoke to me of many things, and gifted me an ember of the Creator’s Sacred Fire, that they named the Flame Imperishable. It glows with the Light of the Creator. This is the truth behind my seemingly miraculous flames. And when those flames touch a Darkfriend, they burnt the Shadow in their heart, rather than in the body like shadowspawn.”

A myriad of emotions go through Ingtar's face: disbelief, longing, fear, shame, regret. I don’t understand it, but it must have something to do with his men that turned out to be Darkfriends, I decided.

“You truly are a miracle of the Creator, Lord Drake.” Ingtar finally said, before he bowed, his sword behind him and clasped in both hands. “Thank you for saving my men today, for saving the Horn last night, and for every time you will save us going forward. I can rest easy, knowing your flame will zealously guard the Horn, even from Darkfriends.” He gave me a smile that relaxed his stern face, the worry creases smoothing, and the hardness melting away. “Truly Rand, thank you. Without you, without Moiraine Sedai and Lan, those Trollocs would have slaughtered us and put us in the cook pots, and the Horn would in the hands of the Shadow. But I have taken enough of your time, go, and apologize to your Aes Sedai. Lan is right that women appreciate grand gestures, and I’ll add swift apologies to that list.” He then left us to corral the soldiers to move the corpses of the Trollocs that were not burnt.

Moiraine had finished healing by then, and simply stood near Mat and Perrin, watching me with those hawk eyes of hers. I met them when I walked forward, assuming the Cat Crossing The Courtyard stance as I did. My limbs were limber and loose, back straight but body relaxed. When I was a few feet in front of her, I bowed the way Lan taught me—left hand on hilt, swinging the sword back behind me and grabbing the sheathe with my right hand, and bending over, arms straight.

I adopted a formal tone. “I apologize for my prideful behavior tonight, and the abandonment of my sworn duties to you, Moiraine Sedai, and I swear as Lord Drake to never let such ignoble actions happen again. My punishment is yours to decide,” I said, loud enough for those nearby camp to hear, and stop to watch. Soon the whole camp had eyes on us.

The frustration and anger with had been brewing in the bond popped like a bubble, surprise filling it instead, then amusement and a bright, soft fondness. I held my pose for a long minute, while Moiraine, I presumed, stared imperiously at me while her fondness waxed even greater. I could feel the eyes of every soldier staring at my antics, and Mat muttering softly to Perrin. Finally she walked close and lifted my head. Her face and voice was as cold as the bond was warm.

“You may share my heart but you will never fight off alone like that without my strict orders, as an Aes Sedai to her Warder. Do you understand, Rand Gaidin?” Her hand still held my chin as I nodded, not having let go of my bow. Her voice warmed some. “Good. Now release that silly bow. There will be no punishment. You made a simple mistake many young Warders make. Everything was fine in the woods, yes? No issues?”

As I stood, releasing my bow, her hand trailed down my neck and arm to my hand and she laced our fingers together, her hand soft and cool in mine. “No issues. Dealt with them fast, but could have been faster,” I said, more than a little guiltily. Ingtar yelled at his men to quit watching us, but I ignored it.

“Well, now you know what to do next time,” she said. “But soldiers die, Rand. It is simply a risk of the life they lead.”

I frowned at the cold reality of the statement, but I could not deny its truth. Still, I did not have to like it. “I could have kept them alive if I was here instead of in the woods playing at sword fighter and hero like I was ten years old.”

She agreed, “Perhaps. Maybe even likely so, but we cannot know that, and it is a futile exercise to relive ‘what ifs’. I do not mean to be callous, but I have lived an eventful life, Rand. Three dead soldiers is a good price to pay for a dead Myrddraal and half a fist of Trolloc corpses.” And it was. I could not deny that truth either. There certainly could have been a lot more dead soldiers, without us. Still did not feel good, knowing there could have been no dead if I had arrived with Mat and Perrin.

“Next time I won’t make the same mistake,” I said, as I watched Masema and another soldier, short and solid, quietly digging graves next to a large oak.

“I’m sure you will not,” Moiraine said confidently, squeezing my hand before letting it go.

I slept poorly, dreaming of dead bodies. Sometimes it was Moiraine laying on the ground, blood staining her dress purple and that damn cloth over her eyes. I woke up every time to find her snug as a bug, her head nestled into the crook of my arm, and Lan awake and standing watch over us.

The funeral ceremony was short, held in the predawn with torches and few words said. The bodies lay naked in the holes dug for them, without even a burial shroud.

“Tora Wengui, may you shelter in the palm of the Creator's hand, and may the last embrace of the mother welcome you home.” Soldiers filled the hole. My fault, I thought as I stared at the holes in the ground.

“Jae Toyame, may you shelter in the palm of the Creator’s hand, and may the last embrace of the mother welcome you home.” Soldiers filled the next hole. Shouldn’t have died. The thought drifted in like a leaf on the wind.

“Urun Sisuan, may you shelter in the palm of the Creator's hand, and may the last embrace of the mother welcome you home.” Soldiers filled the last hole and everyone turned to get ready to move on, muttering quietly amongst themselves. I promise I will do better next time, I swore in my head.

Moiraine swiftly mounted her mare, announcing, “We will turn back east, and seek the Amyrlin Seat’s party, joining them on their journey to Medo,” much to everyone's surprise, including my own, but there were little complaints, even Ingtar simply accepting Moiraine’s words as an order.

I had the privilege and desire to ask why, and she explained as we rode in the dawn’s light. “If the Shadow will waste half a fist and a Myrddraal simply trying our defenses, the next attack will be even stronger. Maybe magnitudes stronger. We must seek the shelter of the Amyrlin and my fourteen sisters, to defend the Horn until we reach Medo in the next five days. I am sorry, but our training will have to wait a while longer, until we have safely left Tar Valon.”

I worried about spending five more days amongst the Aes Sedai, but I would also see Egwene again, hopefully. If things turned out well.

Chapter Text

Amadine 3-9, 998 NE (June 10th-16th)

Egwene hurried after Nynaeve toward the knot of Aes Sedai around the Amyrlin Seat’s horse-borne palanquin, her desire to know what had caused the turmoil in Fal Dara kept outweighing even her sadness over Rand leaving. He was beyond her reach, for the moment, maybe even for months and years and she had to accept that. All she had of him was Bela, her shaggy mare, which was with the Aes Sedai’s horses.

The Warders, hands on sword hilts and eyes searching everywhere, made a steel circle around the Aes Sedai and the palanquin. They were an island of relative calm in the courtyard, where Shienaran soldiers still ran amid the keep’s horrified inhabitants. Egwene pushed in beside Nynaeve—the two of them all but ignored after a single sharp glance from the Warders; all knew they would be leaving with the Amyrlin—and caught enough in the crowd’s murmurs to learn of an arrow that had flashed seemingly from nowhere and a bowman yet uncaught.

Egwene stopped, wide-eyed, too shocked even to think that she was surrounded by Aes Sedai. An attempt on the life of the Amyrlin Seat. It went beyond thinking of. Thank the Light Rand wasn't the target.

The Amyrlin sat in her palanquin with the curtains drawn back, the bloodstained rip in her sleeve drawing all eyes, and faced down Lord Agelmar. “You will find the bowman or you will not, my son. Either way, my business in Tar Valon is as urgent as that of Ingtar and Lord Drake on their quest. I leave now.”

“But, Mother,” Agelmar protested, “this attempt on your life changes everything. We still do not know who sent the man, or why. An hour more, and I will have the bowman and the answers for you.”

The Amyrlin barked a laugh with no amusement in it. “You’ll need slyer bait or finer nets to catch this fish, my son. By the time you have the man, it will be too late in the day for leaving. There are too many who would cheer to see me dead for me to worry overmuch about this one. You may send me news of what you find, if you find anything at all.” Her eyes traveled around the towers overlooking the courtyard, and the ramparts and archers’ balconies, still jammed with people, though silent now. The arrow had to have come from one of those places. “I think this bowman is already fled from Fal Dara.”

“But, Mother—”

The woman in the palanquin cut him off with a sharp gesture of finality. Not even the Lord of Fal Dara could press the Amyrlin Seat too far. Her eyes came to rest on Egwene and Nynaeve, piercing eyes that seemed to Egwene to be seeing everything about herself that she wanted to keep secret. Rand spoke with her today, before he left. Does she know I am his wife too? Does she know what he is? Egwene took a step back, then caught herself and dropped a curtsy, wondering if that were proper; no one had ever explained to her the protocol of meeting the Amyrlin Seat. Moiraine should have, she thought with a little bitterness. Nynaeve kept her back straight and returned the Amyrlin’s stare, but she fumbled for Egwene’s hand and gripped as hard as Egwene did.

“So these are your two, Moiraine,” the Amyrlin said. Moiraine Sedai gave the barest nod, and the other Aes Sedai turned to stare at the two women from Emond’s Field. Egwene swallowed. They all looked as if they knew things, things other people did not, and it was no help at all to know that they truly did. “Yes, I sense a fine spark in each of them. But what will kindle from it? That’s the question, isn’t it?”

Egwene’s mouth felt dry as dust. She had seen Master Padwhin, the carpenter back home, look at his tools much the same way as the Amyrlin was looking at the two of them. This one for this purpose, that one for that. Did she look at Rand that way, just this morning?

The Amyrlin said abruptly, “It is time we were gone. To horse. Lord Agelmar and I can say what needs be said without you all gawking like novices on a freeday. To horse!”

At her command the Warders scattered to their mounts, still wary, and the Aes Sedai, all but Leane, glided away from the palanquin to their own horses. As Egwene and Nynaeve turned to obey, a servant appeared at Lord Agelmar’s shoulder with a silver chalice. Agelmar took it with a dissatisfied twist to his mouth.

“With this cup from my hand, Mother, take my wish that you fare well on this day, and every...”

Whatever else they said was lost to Egwene as she scrambled onto Bela. By the time she had given the shaggy mare a pat, and arranged her skirts, the palanquin was already moving toward the open gates, its horses stepping without rein or lead. Leane rode beside the palanquin, her staff propped at her stirrup. Egwene and Nynaeve brought their horses along behind with the rest of the Aes Sedai.

Roars and cheers from the crowds lining the town streets greeted the procession, all but drowning the thunder of the drummers and the blare of the trumpeters. Warders led the column, with the banner bearing the White Flame waving in ripples, and rode guard around the Aes Sedai, keeping the mass of people back; archers and pikemen, the Flame blazoned on their chests, followed behind in precise ranks. The trumpets fell silent as the column wound its way out of the town and turned southward, yet the sounds of cheering from within the town followed still. Egwene glanced back often, until trees and hills hid Fal Dara’s walls and towers.

Nynaeve, riding alongside, shook her head. “Rand will be all right. He has Lord Ingtar and twenty lances with him. In any case, there is nothing you can do about it. Nothing either of us can do.” She glanced toward Moiraine; the Aes Sedai’s trim white mare and Lan’s tall black stallion made an odd pair off to one side talking to a Green Sister. Why had she not left with Rand? “Not yet.”

The column angled westward as it traveled, and it did not cover the ground quickly. Even footmen in half armor could not move fast through the Shienaran hills, not and maintain the pace for long. Still, they pushed as hard as they could.

Camps came late each night, the Amyrlin allowing no stop until barely enough light remained to pitch the tents, flattened white domes just tall enough to stand in. Each pair of Aes Sedai from the same Ajah had one, while the Amyrlin and the Keeper had tents to themselves, as did Moiraine and Rand when they arrived the next day—in the morning, after they had been attacked by half a fist of Trollocs and a Myrddraal, Egwene was horrified to learn—rather than sharing the tent of her two Sisters of the Blue. Of course she would keep Rand to herself, Egwene had fumed silently when she learned.

The soldiers slept on the ground in their own encampment, and the Warders wrapped themselves in their cloaks near the tents of the Aes Sedai to whom they were bonded. The tent shared by the Red Sisters looked oddly lonely without any Warders, while that of the Greens seemed almost festive, the two Aes Sedai often sitting outside long past dark to talk with the four Warders they had brought between them.

Lan came once—the second evening—to the tent Egwene shared with Nynaeve, taking the Wisdom into the night a little distance away. Egwene peered around the tent flap to watch. She could not hear what they said, except that Nynaeve eventually erupted in anger and came stalking back to wrap herself in her blankets and refuse to talk at all. Egwene thought her cheeks were wet, though she hid her face with a corner of her blanket. Lan stood watching the tent from the darkness for a long time before he went away. After that he did not come again.

Rand only visited rarely, in the first few days. She told herself it was merely that he was busy training, and not Moiraine keeping him away from her. She could feel him in camp, over by the Shienarans some nights, and on the ride she saw him running up and down in that new armor of his, over and over, when he wasn’t engaged in a running spar with Lan that inevitably landed him in the dirt. Moiraine did not come near Egwene and Nynnaeve, giving them only a nod in passing. She seemed to spend her waking hours speaking with the other Aes Sedai, all but the Red sisters, drawing them aside one by one as they rode. The Amyrlin allowed few stops for rest, and those short times were the only time she spent time with Rand mostly alone. Moiraine never precisely there, usually a little ways elsewhere speaking to another Aes Sedai, but she was always watching them with those eyes of hers.

The closest they could get was a hug, in front of the Aes Sedai, and Egwene took advantage, slotting into Rand’s arms and squeezing for dear life. It wasn’t like she could actually squeeze too hard, after Rand had gotten so nice and muscley from all the training. And if her hands occasionally slipped to cup his toned behind, who could blame a wife? His gasps were, as always, a delight, as was the blush, and the mixture of surprise, enjoyment and fond annoyance that it evoked. Egwene was really going to miss Rand, but especially… They had had a wonderful month together, after Moiraine gave her the push to assert her rights as wife.

Sometimes they sat against a tree, as Rand played the flute, strange but catchy songs the gleeman must have taught at some point, except no one nearby would sing along. One Brown Sister, Verin Sedai, came every time he played the flute, making musical notation as she watched Rand’s fingers, like a bird eyeing a juicy worm. Other times they walked around the camp as she told him about one of the endless pranks he and Mat pulled, or the training they each were doing or they talked about the future in oblique terms when no one was nearby and Rand didn’t feel the chill of saidar.. It seems silly to think that in just two or three months, Rand could be a King, and I a Queen. She had giggled at the thought. Rand was, of course, nervous about it all, feeling unprepared but stubbornly pushing through. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same, and Rand al’Thor would always be a stubborn mule about something, Egwene thought with fondness.

“Maybe she doesn’t have time for us anymore,” Egwene had observed, sadly, one night as Moiraine once more did not show up to teach her. Moiraine Sedai was the only Aes Sedai she knew, and though she did not like to admit it, the only one she was sure she could trust. Mostly.. The bond will protect Rand. And she showed me the Door weave, as Rand calls it. Traveling is what Moiraine called it, out of his earshot. Egwene had memorized the Weave after seeing it a couple times, but did not even try to make it yet, for it was much too complicated for her. When I can, no Moiraine Sedai will keep me from Rand’s side. “She found us, and we are on our way to Tar Valon. I suppose she has other things to concern her now.”

Nynaeve snorted softly. “I’ll believe she is done with us when she’s dead, or we are. She is sly, that one. Your Rand better count his fingers and toes everytime he gets out of bed.”

Egwene laughed. “Oh she’s not that bad.”

Other Aes Sedai came to their tent. Egwene almost jumped out of her skin that first night out of Fal Dara, when the tent flap was pushed aside and a plump, square-faced Aes Sedai, with graying hair and a vaguely distracted look in her dark eyes, ducked into their tent. She glanced at the lantern hanging at the highest point of the tent, and the flame rose a little higher. Egwene thought she felt something, thought she almost saw something about the Aes Sedai when the flame grew brighter. Moiraine had told her that one day—someday soon, Moiraine had guessed—she would be able to see when another woman channeled, and to tell a woman who could channel even if she did nothing.

“I am Verin Mathwin,” the woman said with a smile. “And you are Egwene al’Vere and Nynaeve al’Maera. From the Two Rivers, which was once Manetheren. Strong blood, that. It sings.”

Egwene exchanged glances with Nynaeve as they got to their feet.

“Is this a summons to the Amyrlin Seat?” Egwene asked.

Verin laughed. The Aes Sedai had a smudge of ink on her nose. “Oh, my, no. The Amyrlin has more important things to deal with than two young women who are not even novices yet. Although, you never can tell. You both have considerable potential, especially you, Nynaeve. One day....” She paused, rubbing a finger thoughtfully right atop the ink smudge. “But this is not one day. I am here to give you a lesson, Egwene. You have been poking in ahead of yourself, I fear.”

Nervously, Egwene looked at Nynaeve. “What have I done? Nothing that I’m aware of.”

“Oh, nothing wrong. Not exactly. Somewhat dangerous, perhaps, but not exactly wrong.” Verin lowered herself to the canvas floor, folding her legs under her. “Sit, both of you. Sit. I don’t mean to crane my neck.” She shifted around until she had a comfortable position. “Sit.”

Egwene settled cross-legged across from the Aes Sedai and did her best not to look at Nynaeve. No need to look guilty until I know if I am. And maybe not then. “What is it I’ve done that’s dangerous but not exactly wrong?”

“Why, you’ve been channeling the Power, child.”

Egwene could only gape. Nynaeve burst out, “That is ridiculous. Why are we going to Tar Valon, if not for that?”

“Moiraine has... I mean, Moiraine Sedai has been giving me lessons,” Egwene managed.

Verin held up her hands for quiet, and they fell silent. She might seem vague, but she was Aes Sedai, after all. “Child, do you think Aes Sedai immediately teach every girl who says she wants to be one of us how to channel? Well, I suppose you are not exactly every girl, but just the same...” She shook her head gravely.

“Then why did she?” Nynaeve demanded. There had been no lessons for her, and Egwene was still not sure if it rankled Nynaeve or not.

“Because Egwene had already channeled,” Verin said patiently.

“So... So have I.” Nynaeve did not sound happy about it.

“Your circumstances are different, child. That you are still alive shows you weathered the various crises, and did it on your own. I think you know how lucky you are. Of every four women forced to do what you did, only one survives. Of course, wilders—” Verin grimaced. “Forgive me, but I am afraid that is what we in the White Tower often call women who, without any training, have managed some rough control—random, and barely enough to be called control, usually, like you, but still control of a sort. Wilders have difficulties, it is true. Almost always they have built up walls to keep themselves from knowing what it was they were doing, and those walls interfere with conscious control. The longer those walls have to build, the harder it is to tear them down, but if they can be demolished—well, some of the most adept sisters ever have been wilders.”

Nynaeve shifted irritably, and looked at the entrance as if thinking of leaving.

“I don’t see what any of that has to do with me,” Egwene said.

Verin blinked at her, almost as if wondering where she had come from. “With you? Why, nothing. Your problem is quite different. Most girls who want to become Aes Sedai, even most girls with the seed inside them, like you, are afraid of it, too. Even after they reach the Tower, even after they’ve learned what to do and how, for months they need to be led, step by step, by a sister, or by one of the Accepted. But not you. From what Moiraine tells me, you leaped into it as soon as you knew you could, fumbling your way through the dark with never a thought of whether there was a bottomless pit under your next step. Oh, there have been others like you; you are not unique. Moiraine was one herself. Once she knew what you had done, there was nothing for it but for her to begin teaching you. Did Moiraine never explain any of this to you?”

“Never.” Egwene wished her voice was not so breathless. “She had... other matters to deal with.” Nynaeve snorted softly.

“Well, Moiraine has never believed in telling anyone anything they did not need to know. Knowing serves no real purpose, but then, neither does not knowing. Myself, I always prefer knowing to not.”

“Is there one? A pit, I mean?”

“Obviously not so far,” Verin said, tilting her head. “But the next step?” She shrugged. “You see, child, the more you try to touch the True Source, the more you try to channel the One Power, the easier it becomes to actually do it. Yes, in the beginning, you stretch out to the Source and more often than not it is like grasping at air. Or you actually touch saidar, but even when you feel the One Power flowing through you, you find you can do nothing with it. Or you do something, and it isn’t what you intended at all. That is the danger. Usually, with guidance and training—and the girl’s own fear slowing her down—the ability to touch the Source and the ability to channel the Power come together with the ability to control what she is doing. But you began trying to channel without anyone there to teach you any control at all of what you do. I know you don’t think you’re very far along, and you are not, but you are like someone who has taught herself to run up hills, sometimes, at least, without ever learning how to run down the other side, or to walk. Sooner or later you are going to fall, if you don’t learn the rest of it. Now, I am not talking about anything like what happens when one of those poor men begins channeling—you will not go mad; you won’t die, not with sisters to teach and guide you—but what might you do entirely by accident, never meaning to?”

For an instant the vagueness had dropped from Verin’s eyes. For an instant, it seemed, the Aes Sedai’s gaze had flicked from Egwene to Nynaeve as sharply as the Amyrlin’s had. “Your innate abilities are strong, child, and they will grow stronger. You must learn to control them before you harm yourself, or someone else, or a great many people. That is what Moiraine was trying to teach you. That is what I will try to help you with tonight, and what a sister will help you with every night until we put you into Sheriam’s most capable hands. She is Mistress of Novices.”

Egwene thought, Can she know about Rand? It isn’t possible. She’d never have let him leave Fal Dara if she even suspected. But she was sure she had not imagined what she saw. “Thank you, Verin Sedai. I will try.”

Nynaeve rose smoothly to her feet. “I will go sit by the fire and leave you two alone.”

“You should stay,” Verin said. “You could profit by it. From what Moiraine has told me, it should take only a little training for you to be raised to the Accepted.”

Nynaeve hesitated only a moment before shaking her head firmly. “I thank you for the offer, but I can wait until we reach Tar Valon. Egwene, if you need me, I will be—”

“By any gauge,” Verin cut in, “you are a woman grown, Nynaeve. Usually, the younger a novice, the better she does. Not with the training necessarily, but because a novice is expected to do as she is told, when she is told and without question. It is really only of use once the actual training has reached a certain point—a hesitation in the wrong place then, or a doubt of what you have been told to do, can have tragic consequences—but it is better to follow the discipline all the time. The Accepted, on the other hand, are expected to question things, as it is felt they know enough to know what questions to ask and when. Which do you think you would prefer?”

Nynaeve’s hands tightened on her skirt, and she looked at the tent flap again, frowning. Finally she gave a short nod and settled back down on the floor. “I suppose I might as well,” she said.

“Good,” Verin said. “Now. You already know this part, Egwene, but for Nynaeve’s sake I will take you through it step by step. In time, it will become second nature—you will do it all faster than you can think of it—but now it is best to go slowly. Close your eyes, please. It goes better in the beginning if you have no distractions at all.” Egwene closed her eyes. There was a pause. “Nynaeve,” Verin said, “please close your eyes. It will really go better.” Another pause. “Thank you, child. Now, you must empty yourself. Empty your thoughts. There is only one thing in your mind. The bud of a flower. Only that. Only the bud. You can see it in every detail. You can smell it. You can feel it. Every vein of every leaf, every curve of every petal. You can feel the sap pulsing. Feel it. Know it. Be it. You and the bud are the same. You are one. You are the bud.”

Her voice droned on hypnotically, but Egwene no longer really heard; she had done this exercise before, with Moiraine. It was slow, but Moiraine had said it would come more quickly with practice. Inside herself, she was a rosebud, red petals curled tightly. Yet suddenly there was something else. Light. Light pressing on the petals. Slowly the petals unfolded, turning toward the light, absorbing the light. The rose and the light were one. Egwene and the light were one. She could feel the merest trickle of it seeping through her. She stretched for more, strained for more....

In an instant it was all gone, rose and light. Moiraine had also said it could not be forced. With a sigh, she opened her eyes. Nynaeve had a grim look on her face. Verin was as calm as ever.

“You cannot make it happen,” the Aes Sedai was saying. “You must let it happen. You must surrender to the Power before you can control it.”

“This is complete foolishness,” Nynaeve muttered. “I don’t feel like a flower. If anything, I feel like a blackthorn bush. I think I will wait by the fire after all.”

“As you wish,” Verin said. “Did I mention that novices do chores? They wash dishes, scrub floors, do laundry, serve at table, all sorts of things. I myself think the servants do a better job of it by far, but it is generally felt that such labor builds character. Oh, you are staying? Good. Well, child, remember that even a blackthorn bush has flowers sometimes, beautiful and white among the thorns. We will try it one at a time. Now, from the beginning, Egwene. Close your eyes.”

Several times before Verin left, Egwene felt the flow of the Power through her, but it was never very strong, and the most she managed with it was to produce a stir in the air that made the tent flap stir slightly. She was sure a sneeze could have done as much. She had done better with Moiraine; sometimes, at least. She wished it was Moiraine doing the teaching, and that Rand was there to encourage her like he always did.

Nynaeve never even felt a glimmer, or so she said. By the end her eyes were set and her mouth so tight that Egwene was afraid she was about to begin berating Verin as if the Aes Sedai were a village woman intruding on her privacy. But Verin simply told her to close her eyes once again, this time without Egwene.

Egwene was sitting, watching the other two between her yawns. The night had grown late, well past the time she would usually be asleep. Nynaeve wore a face like week-old death, her eyes clamped shut as if she never meant to open them and her hands white-knuckled fists in her lap. Egwene hoped the Wisdom’s temper did not break loose, not after she had held it this long.

“Feel the flow through you,” Verin was saying. Her voice did not change, but suddenly there was a gleam in her eyes. “Feel the flow. Flow of the Power. Flow like a breeze, a gentle stirring in the air.” Egwene sat up straight. This was how Verin had guided her each time she had actually had the Power flowing through her. “A soft breeze, the slightest movement of air. Soft.”

Abruptly the stacked blankets burst into flame like fatwood.

Nynaeve opened her eyes with a yell. Egwene was not sure if she screamed or not. All Egwene knew was that she was on her feet, trying to kick the burning blankets outside before they set the tent on fire. Before she managed a second kick, the flames vanished, leaving wispy smoke rising from a charred mass and the smell of burned wool.

“Well,” Verin said. “Well. I did not expect to have to douse a fire. Don’t faint on me, child. It’s all right now. I took care of it.”

“I—I was angry.” Nynaeve spoke through trembling lips in a bloodless face. “I heard you talking about a breeze, telling me what to do, and fire just popped into my head. I—I didn’t mean to burn anything. It was just a small fire, in—in my head.” She shuddered.

“I suppose it was a small fire, at that.” Verin barked a laugh that was gone with another look at Nynaeve’s face. “Are you all right, child? If you feel ill, I can...” Nynaeve shook her head, and Verin nodded. “Rest is what you need. Both of you. I’ve worked you too hard. You must rest. The Amyrlin will have us all up and away before first light.” Standing, she toed the charred blankets. “I will have some more blankets brought to you. I hope this shows both of you how important control is. You must learn to do what you mean to do, and nothing more. Aside from harming someone else, if you draw more of the Power than you can safely handle—and you cannot handle much, yet; but it will grow—if you draw too much, you can destroy yourself. You can die. Or you can burn yourself out, destroy what ability you have.” As if she had not told them they were walking a knife edge, she added a cheerful “Sleep well.” With that, she was gone.

Egwene put her arms around Nynaeve and hugged her tight. “It is all right, Nynaeve. There is no need to be frightened. Once you learn to control—”

Nynaeve gave a croaking laugh. “I am not frightened.” She glanced sideways at the smoking blankets and twitched her eyes away. “It takes more than a little fire to frighten me.” But she did not look at the blankets again, even when a Warder came to take them away and leave new.

Verin did not come again, as she had said she would not. Indeed, as they journeyed on, south and west, day by day, as fast as the footmen could move, Verin paid the two women from Emond’s Field no more mind than Moiraine did, than did any of the Aes Sedai. They were not precisely unfriendly, the Aes Sedai, but rather distant and aloof, as if preoccupied. Their coolness heightened Egwene’s unease, and brought back all the tales she had heard as a child.

Her mother had always told her the tales about Aes Sedai were a lot of fool men’s nonsense, but neither her mother nor any other woman in Emond’s Field had ever met an Aes Sedai before Moiraine came there. She herself had spent a good deal of time with Moiraine, and Moiraine was proof to her that not all Aes Sedai were like the tales, though they held some truth. Cold manipulators and merciless destroyers. Breakers of the World. She knew now that those, at least—the Breakers of the World—had been male Aes Sedai, when there were such, in the Age of Legends, but it did not help a great deal. Not all Aes Sedai were like the tales, but how many, and which?

The Aes Sedai who came to the tent each night were so mixed that they did not help at all in clearing her thoughts. Alviarin was as cool and businesslike as a merchant come to buy wool and tabac, surprised that Nynaeve was part of the lesson but accepting, sharp in her criticisms but always ready to try again. Alanna Mosvani laughed and spent as much time talking about the world, and men, as she did teaching. Alanna showed too much interest in Rand and Perrin and Mat for Egwene’s comfort, though. Especially Rand. Worst of all was Liandrin, the only one who wore her shawl; the others had all packed them away before leaving Fal Dara. Liandrin sat fingering her red fringe and taught little, and reluctantly at that. She questioned Egwene and Nynaeve as if they had been accused of a crime, and her questions were all about the three boys. She kept it up until Nynaeve threw her out—Egwene was not sure why Nynaeve did so—and then she left with a warning.

“Watch yourselves, my daughters. You are in your village no longer. Now you dabble your toes where there are things to bite you.”

The only trouble came the third night, but was dealt with quickly before Egwene had even woken up. Nynaeve described the lights in the sky with a worried awe, and all the camp could talk about the next day was about Lord Drake leading the Warders to rout the shadowspawn and Moiraine Sedai throwing bolts of lightning, but Rand was not with them anymore, having left sometime before she woke in the next morning.

Finally the column reached the village of Medo, on the banks of the Mora, which ran along the border between Shienar and Arafel and so into the River Erinin.

Egwene was sure it was the Aes Sedai’s questions about Rand that had made her start dreaming of him, that and worrying about him, about whether he and the others would be attacked again, like they were on the first night and the third night after they left Fal Dara. The dreams were always bad, but at first they were just the ordinary sort of nightmare. By the night they reached Medo, the dreams had changed, though.

“Pardon, Aes Sedai,” Egwene asked diffidently, “but have you seen Moiraine Sedai?” Egwene had not seen her since the second attack, but that did not mean she had left with Rand, or that she wasn't waiting at the village, Egwene told herself. The slender Aes Sedai waved her away and hurried on down the crowded, torch-lit village street, calling for someone to be careful with her horse. The woman was of the Yellow Ajah, though not wearing her shawl now; Egwene knew no more of her than that, not even her name.

Medo was a small village—though Egwene was shocked to realize that what she now thought of as a “small village” was as big as Emond’s Field—and it was overwhelmed now with many more outsiders than there were inhabitants. Horses and people filled the narrow streets, jostling to the docks past villagers who knelt whenever an unseeing Aes Sedai sped by. Harsh torchlight lit everything. The two docks jutted out into the River Mora like stone fingers, and each hosted a pair of small, two-masted ships. There, horses were being hoisted on board by booms and cables and canvas cradles under their bellies. More of the ships—high-sided and stout, with lanterns topping their masts—crowded the moon-streaked river, already loaded or waiting their turn. Rowboats ferried out archers and pikemen, the raised pikes making the boats look like gigantic pricklebacks swimming on the surface.

On the left-hand dock Egwene found Anaiya Sedai, watching the loading and chivvying those who were not moving fast enough. Though she had never said more than two words to Egwene, Anaiya seemed different from the others, more like a woman from home. Egwene could picture her baking in her kitchen; she could not see any of the others so. “Anaiya Sedai, have you seen Moiraine Sedai? I need to talk to her.”

The Aes Sedai looked around with an absent frown. “What? Oh, it’s you, child. Moiraine is gone. And your friend, Nynaeve, is already out on the River Queen. I had to bundle her onto a boat myself, shouting that she would not go without you. Light, what a scramble! You should be aboard, yourself. Find a boat going out to the River Queen. You two will be traveling with the Amyrlin Seat, so mind yourself once you’re on board. No scenes or tantrums.”

“Which ship is Moiraine Sedai’s?”

“Moiraine isn’t on a ship, girl. She’s gone, two days gone, and the Amyrlin is in a taking over it.” Anaiya grimaced and shook her head, though most of her attention was still on the workers. “First Moiraine vanishes with Lan, her new Warder, and those twenty Shienarans, then Liandrin right on Moiraine’s heels, and then Verin, none of them with so much as a word for anyone. Verin did not even take her Warder; Tomas is chewing nails with worry over her.” The Aes Sedai glanced at the sky. The waxing moon shone without the hindrance of clouds. “We will have to call the wind again, and the Amyrlin will not be pleased with that, either. She says she wants us on our way to Tar Valon within an hour, and she will brook no delays. I would not want to be Moiraine, or Liandrin, or Verin, when she sees them next. They’ll wish they were novices again. Why, child, what’s the matter?”

Egwene drew a deep breath, her worry unsettling her. It seems it was foolish to hope she'd be here. I have to tell someone, someone who won’t laugh at me. She imagined Anaiya back in Emond’s Field, listening to her daughter’s problems; the woman fit the picture. “Anaiya Sedai, Rand is in trouble.”

Anaiya gave her a considering look. “The Lord Drake? That tall boy from your village? Missing him already, are you? Well, I shouldn’t be surprised if he is in trouble. Young men his age usually are. Moiraine will keep him on track, though. Do not worry about that.. Though it was the other one—Mat?—who had the look of trouble. Very well, child. I don’t mean to mock you or make light. What kind of trouble, and how do you know? He and Lord Ingtar have the Horn, it was gone that morning after they left. They must simply be ahead of us, having already taken a ship.”

“I… I had a dream.” She said it half defiantly. It sounded silly when she said it, but it had seemed so real. A nightmare for true, but real. First there had been a man with a mask over his face, and fire in place of his eyes. Despite the mask, she had thought he was surprised to see her. His look had frightened her till she thought her bones would break from shivering, but suddenly he vanished, and she saw Rand sleeping on the ground, wrapped in a cloak. A woman had been standing over him, looking down. Her face was in shadow, but her eyes seemed to shine like the moon, and Egwene had known she was evil. Then there was a flash of light, and they were gone. Both of them. And behind it all, almost like another thing altogether, was the feel of danger, as if a trap was just beginning to snap shut on an unsuspecting lamb, a trap with many jaws. As though time had slowed, and she could watch the iron jaws creep closer together. The dream had not faded with waking, the way dreams did. And the danger felt so strong she still wanted to look over her shoulder—only somehow she knew that it was aimed at Rand, not at her.

She wondered if the woman had been Moiraine, and upbraided herself for the thought. It could not have been Moiraine. Liandrin fit that part better. Or perhaps Alanna; she had been interested in Rand, too. They aren’t any of the six women he is fated for, or Rand would have said something.

She could not bring herself to tell Anaiya. Formally, she said, “Anaiya Sedai, I know it sounds foolish, but he is in danger. Great danger. I know it. I could feel it. I still can.”

Anaiya wore a thoughtful look. “Well, now,” she said softly, “that’s a possibility I’ll wager no one has considered. You may be a Dreamer. It is a small chance, child, but... We haven’t had one of those in—oh—four or five hundred years. And Dreaming is closely linked to Foretelling. If you really can Dream, it may be that you can Foretell, as well. That would be a finger in the Reds’ eye. Of course, it could be just an ordinary nightmare, brought on by a late night, and cold food, and us traveling so hard since we left Fal Dara. And you missing your young man. Much more likely. Yes, yes, child, I know. You are worried about him. Did your dream indicate what kind of danger?”

Egwene shook her head. “He just vanished, and I felt danger. And evil. I felt it even before he vanished.” She shivered and rubbed her hands together. “I can still feel it.”

“Well, we will talk about it more on the River Queen. If you are a Dreamer, I will see you have the training Moiraine should be here to... You there!” the Aes Sedai barked suddenly, and Egwene jumped. A tall man, who had just sat down on a cask of wine, jumped, too. Several others quickened their step. “That’s for loading aboard, not resting on! We will talk on the boat, child. No, you fool! You can’t carry it by yourself! Do you want to hurt yourself?” Anaiya went striding off down the dock, giving the unfortunate villagers a rougher side of her tongue than Egwene would have suspected she had.

Egwene peered into the dark, toward the south. He was out there, somewhere. Hold on, you wool-headed idiot. If you get yourself killed before I can get you out of this, I will skin you alive. It did not occur to her to ask how she was going to get him out of anything, going to Tar Valon as she was.

Snugging her cloak around her, she set out to find a boat to the River Queen.

Amadine 13, 998 NE (June 20th)

Egwene balanced on the heeling deck as the River Queen sped down the wide Erinin under cloud-dark skies, sails full-bellied, White Flame banner whipping furiously at the mainmast. The wind had risen as soon as the last of them was aboard the ships, back in Medo, and it had not failed or flagged for an instant since, day or night. The river had begun to race in flood, as it still did, slapping the ships about while it drove them onward. Wind and river had not slowed, and neither had the ships, all clustered together. The River Queen led, only right for the vessel that carried the Amyrlin Seat.

The helmsman held his tiller grimly, feet planted and spread, and sailors padded barefoot at their work, intent on what they did; when they glanced at the sky or the river, they tore their eyes away with low mutters. A village was just fading from view behind, and a boy raced along the bank; he had kept up with the ships for a short distance, but now they were leaving him behind. When he vanished, Egwene made her way below.

In the small cabin they shared, Nynaeve glared up at her from her narrow bed. “They say we’ll reach Tar Valon today. The Light help me, but I’ll be glad to put foot on land again even if it is in Tar Valon.” The ship lurched with wind and current, and Nynaeve swallowed. “I’ll never step on a boat again,” she said breathlessly.

Egwene shook the river spray out of her cloak and hung it on a peg by the door. It was not a big cabin—there were no big cabins on the ship, it seemed, not even the one the Amyrlin had taken over from the captain, though that was larger than the rest. With its two beds built into the walls, shelves beneath them and cabinets above, everything lay close to hand.

Except for keeping her balance, the movements of the ship did not bother her the way they did Nynaeve; she had given up offering Nynaeve food after the third time the Wisdom threw the bowl at her. “I’m worried about Rand,” she said.

“I’m worried about all of them,” Nynaeve replied dully. After a moment, she said, “Another dream last night? The way you’ve been staring at nothing since you got up...”

Egwene nodded. She had never been very good at keeping things from Nynaeve, and she had not tried with the dreams. Nynaeve had tried to dose her at first, until she heard one of the Aes Sedai was interested; then she began to believe. “It was like the others. Different, but the same. Rand is in some kind of danger. I know it. And it is getting worse. He’s done something, or he’s going to do something, that puts him in...”

She dropped down on her bed and leaned toward the other woman. “I just wish I could make some sense of it.”

“Channeling?” Nynaeve said softly.

Despite herself, Egwene looked around to see if anyone was there to hear. They were alone, with the door closed, but still she spoke just as softly. “I don’t know. Maybe.” There was no telling what Aes Sedai could do—she had seen enough already to make her believe every story of their powers—and she would not risk eavesdropping. I won’t risk Rand. If I wanted to be a good Aes Sedai, I’d tell them, but Moiraine knows, and she hasn’t said anything. She trains him for Light's sake! And it’s Rand! I can’t risk his life. He's the Dragon Reborn. He was headed south again, after stopping two days ago, far enough away she only felt the strongest emotions, affection that made Egwene almost shiver from how hard she missed feeling him close to her, his lips and hands and... “I don’t know what to do.”

“Has Anaiya said anything more about these dreams?” Nynaeve seemed to make it a point never to add the honorific Sedai, even when the two of them were alone. Most of the Aes Sedai appeared not to care, but the habit had earned a few strange looks, and some hard ones; she was going to train in the White Tower, after all.

“ ‘The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills,’ ” Egwene quoted Anaiya. “ ‘The boy is far away, child, and there’s nothing we can do until we know more. I will see to testing you myself once we reach the White Tower, child.’ Aaagh! She knows there is something in these dreams. I can tell she does. I like the woman, Nynaeve; I do. But she won’t tell me what I want to know. And I can’t tell her everything. Maybe if I could...”

“The man in the mask again?”

Egwene nodded. Somehow, she was sure it was better not to tell Anaiya about him. She could not imagine why, but she was sure. Three times the man whose eyes were fire had been in her dreams each time when she dreamed a dream that convinced her Rand was in danger. He always wore a mask across his face; sometimes she could see his eyes, and sometimes she could only see fire where they should be. “He laughed at me. It was so... contemptuous. As though I were a puppy he was going to have to push out of his way with his foot. It frightens me. He frightens me. I think… I think he's…”

“Are you sure it has anything to do with the other dreams, with Rand? Sometimes a dream is just a dream.”

Egwene threw up her hands. “And sometimes, Nynaeve, you sound just like Anaiya Sedai!” She put a special emphasis on the title, and was pleased to see Nynaeve grimace.

“If I ever get out of this bed, Egwene—”

A knock at the door cut off whatever Nynaeve had been going to say. Before Egwene could speak or move, the Amyrlin herself came in and shut the door behind her. She was alone, for a wonder; she seldom left her cabin, and then always with Leane at her side, and maybe another of the Aes Sedai.

Egwene sprang to her feet. The room was a little crowded, with three of them in it.

“Both of you feeling well?” the Amyrlin said cheerily. She tilted her head at Nynaeve. “Eating well, too, I trust? In good temper?”

Nynaeve struggled to a sitting position, with her back against the wall. “My temper is just fine, thank you.”

“We are honored, Mother,” Egwene began, but the Amyrlin waved her to silence.

“It’s good to be on the water again, but it grows boring as a mill pond after a while with nothing to do.” The ship heeled, and she shifted her balance without seeming to notice. “I will give you your lesson today.” She folded herself onto the end of Egwene’s bed, feet tucked under her. “Sit, child.”

Egwene sat, but Nynaeve began trying to push herself to her feet. “I think I will go on deck.”

“I said, sit!” The Amyrlin’s voice cracked like a whip, but Nynaeve kept rising, wavering. She still had both hands on the bed, but she was almost upright. Egwene held herself ready to catch her when she fell.

Closing her eyes, Nynaeve slowly lowered herself back to the bed. “Perhaps I will stay. It is no doubt windy up there.”

The Amyrlin barked a laugh. “They told me you had a temper in you like a fisher-bird with a bone in its throat. Some of them, child, say you’d do well for some time as a novice, no matter how old you are. I say, if you have the ability I hear of, you deserve to be one of the Accepted.” She gave another laugh. “I always believe in giving people what they deserve. Yes. I suspect you will learn a great deal once you reach the White Tower.”

“I’d rather one of the Warders taught me how to use a sword,” Nynaeve growled. She swallowed convulsively, and opened her eyes. “There is someone I’d like to use it on.” Egwene looked at her sharply; did Nynaeve mean the Amyrlin—which was stupid, and dangerous besides—or Lan? She snapped at Egwene every time Lan was mentioned.

“A sword?” the Amyrlin said. “I never thought swords were much use—even if you have the skill, child, there are always men who have as much, and a deal more strength—but if you want a sword...” She held up her hand—Egwene gasped, and even Nynaeve’s eyes bulged—and there was a sword in it. With blade and hilt of an odd bluish white, it looked somehow... cold. “Made from the air, child, with Air. It’s as good as most steel blades, better than most, but still not much use.” The sword became a paring knife. There was no shrinking; it just was one thing, then the other. “This, now, is useful.” The paring knife turned to mist, and the mist faded away. The Amyrlin put her empty hand back in her lap. “But either takes more effort than it is worth. Better, easier, simply to carry a good knife with you. You have to learn when to use your ability, as well as how, and when it’s better to do things the way any other woman would. Let a blacksmith make knives for gutting fish. Use the One Power too often and too freely, and you can come to like it too much. That way lies danger. You begin to want more of it, and sooner or later you run the risk of drawing more than you’ve learned to handle. And that can burn you out like a guttered candle, or—”

“If I must learn all this,” Nynaeve broke in stiffly, “I would as soon learn something useful. All this… this ‘Make the air stir, Nynaeve. Light the candle, Nynaeve. Now put it out. Light it again.’ Paah!”

Egwene closed her eyes for a moment. Please, Nynaeve. Please keep a check on your temper for once. She bit her lip to keep from saying it out loud.

The Amyrlin was silent for a moment. “Useful,” she said at last. “Something useful. You wanted a sword. Suppose a man came at me with a sword. What would I do? Something useful, you can be sure. This, I think.”

For an instant, Egwene thought she saw a glow around the woman at the other end of her bed. Then the air seemed to thicken; nothing changed that Egwene could see, but she could surely feel it. She tried to lift her arm; it did not budge any more than if she were buried to her neck in thick jelly. Nothing could move except her head.

“Release me!” Nynaeve grated. Her eyes glared, and her head jerked from side to side, but the rest of her sat as rigidly as a statue. Egwene realized that she was not the only one held. “Let me go!”

“Useful, wouldn’t you say? And it is nothing but Air.” The Amyrlin spoke in a conversational tone, as if they were all chatting over tea. “Big man, with his muscles and his sword, and the sword does him as much good as the hair on his chest.”

“Let me go, I say!”

“And if I don’t like where he is, why, I can pick him up.” Nynaeve squawked furiously as she slowly rose, still in a sitting position, until her head almost touched the ceiling. The Amyrlin smiled. “I’ve often wished I could use this to fly. The records say Aes Sedai could fly, in the Age of Legends, but they aren’t clear on how, exactly. Not this way, though. It doesn’t work like that. You might reach out with your hands and pick up a chest that weighs as much as you do; you look strong. But take hold of yourself however you will, you cannot pick yourself up.”

Nynaeve’s head jerked furiously, but not another muscle of her twitched. “The Light burn you, let me go!”

Egwene swallowed hard and hoped she was not also to be lifted.

“So,” the Amyrlin continued, “big, hairy man, and so forth. He can do nothing to me, while I can do anything at all to him. Why, if I had a mind to”—she leaned forward, her eyes intent on Nynaeve; suddenly her smile did not seem very friendly—“I could turn him upside down and paddle his bottom. Just like—” Suddenly the Amyrlin flew backwards so hard her head rebounded from the wall, and there she stayed, as if something were pressing against her.

Egwene stared, her mouth dry. This isn’t happening. It isn’t.

“They were right,” the Amyrlin said. Her voice sounded strained, as though she found it hard to breathe. “They said you learned quickly. And they said it took your temper burning to get to the heart of what you can do.” She took a struggling breath.

“Shall we release each other together, child?”

Nynaeve, floating in the air with her eyes ablaze, said, “You let me go right now, or I’ll—” Abruptly a look of amazement came over her face, a look of loss. Her mouth worked silently.

The Amyrlin sat up, working her shoulders. “You don’t know everything yet, do you, child? Not the hundredth part of everything. You did not suspect I could cut you off from the True Source. You can still feel it there, but you can’t touch it any more than a fish can touch the moon. When you learn enough to be raised to full sisterhood, no one woman will be able to do that to you. The stronger you become, the more Aes Sedai it will take to shield you against your will. Do you think, now, you want to learn?” Nynaeve pressed her mouth shut in a thin line and stared her in the eye grimly. The Amyrlin sighed. “If you had a hair less potential than you do, child, I would send you to the Mistress of Novices and tell her to keep you the rest of your life. But you will get what you deserve.”

Nynaeve’s eyes widened, and she had just time to start a yell before she dropped, hitting her bed with a loud thud. Egwene winced; the mattresses were thin, and the wood beneath hard. Nynaeve’s face stayed frozen as she shifted the way she sat, just a fraction.

“And now,” the Amyrlin said firmly, “unless you would like further demonstration, we will get on with your lesson. Continue your lesson, we might say.”

“Mother?” Egwene said faintly. She still could not twitch below her chin.

The Amyrlin looked at her questioningly, then smiled. “Oh. I am sorry, child. Your friend was occupying my attention, I’m afraid.” Suddenly Egwene could move again; she raised her arms, just to convince herself that she could. “Are you both ready to learn?”

“Yes, Mother,” Egwene said quickly.

The Amyrlin raised an eyebrow at Nynaeve.

After a moment, Nynaeve said in a tight voice, “Yes, Mother.”

Egwene heaved a sigh of relief.

“Good. Now, then. Empty your thoughts of everything but a flower bud.”

Egwene was sweating by the time the Amyrlin left. She had thought some of the other Aes Sedai had been hard teachers, but that smiling, plain-faced woman coaxed out every last drop of effort, drew it out, and when there was nothing left, she seemed to reach into you and pulled it out. It had gone well, though. As the door closed behind the Amyrlin, Egwene raised one hand; a tiny flame sprang to life, balanced a hairbreadth above the tip of her forefinger, then danced from fingertip to fingertip. She was not supposed to do this without a teacher—one of the Accepted, at the very least—to watch over her, but she was too excited at her progress to pay any mind to that.

Nynaeve bounded to her feet and threw her pillow at the closing door. “That… that vile, contemptible, miserable hag! The Light burn her! I’d like to feed her to the fish. I’d like to dose her with things that would turn her green for the rest of her life! I don’t care if she’s old enough to be my mother, if I had her in Emond’s Field, she wouldn’t sit down comfortably for...” Her teeth ground so loudly that Egwene jumped.

Letting the flame die, Egwene put her eyes firmly on her lap. She wished she could think of a way to sneak out of the room without catching Nynaeve’s eye.

The lesson had not gone well for Nynaeve, because she had held her temper on a tight lead until the Amyrlin was gone. She never could do very much unless she was angry, and then it all burst out of her. After failure upon failure, the Amyrlin had done everything she could to rouse her again. Egwene wished Nynaeve could forget she had been there to see or hear any of it.

Nynaeve stalked stiffly to her bed and stood staring at the wall behind it, her fist clenched at her side. Egwene looked longingly at the door.

“It was not your fault,” Nynaeve said, and Egwene gave a start.

“Nynaeve, I—”

Nynaeve turned to look down at her. “It was not your fault,” she repeated, sounding unconvinced. “But if you ever breathe one word, I’ll—I’ll...”

“Not a word, not even to Rand,” Egwene said quickly. “I don’t even remember anything to breathe a word about.”

Nynaeve stared at her a moment longer, then nodded. Abruptly she grimaced. “Light, I did not think anything tasted worse than raw sheepstongue root. I’ll remember that, the next time you act the goose, so watch yourself.”

Egwene winced. That had been the first thing the Amyrlin had done trying to rouse Nynaeve’s anger. A dark glob of something that glistened like grease and smelled vile had suddenly appeared and, while the Amyrlin held Nynaeve with the Power, had been forced into the Wisdom’s mouth. The Amyrlin had even held her nose to make her swallow. And Nynaeve remembered things, if she had seen them done once. Egwene did not think there was any way of stopping her if she took it into her mind to do it; for all her own success in making a flame dance, she could never have held the Amyrlin against a wall. “At least being on the ship isn’t making you sick anymore.”

Nynaeve grunted, then gave a short, sharp laugh. “I’m too angry to be sick.” With another mirthless laugh, she shook her head. “I’m too miserable to be sick. Light, I feel as if I’ve been dragged through a knothole backwards. If that is what novice training is like, you will have incentive to learn quickly.”

Egwene scowled at her knees. Compared to Nynaeve, the Amyrlin had only coaxed her, smiled at her successes, sympathized with her failures, then coaxed again. But all the Aes Sedai had said things would be different in the White Tower; harder, though they would not say how. If she had to go through what Nynaeve had, day after day, she did not think she could stand it.

Something changed in the motion of the ship. The rocking eased, and feet thumped on the deck above their heads. A man shouted something Egwene could not quite make out.

She looked up at Nynaeve. “Do you think... Tar Valon?”

“There is only one way to find out,” Nynaeve replied, and determinedly took her cloak from its peg.

When they reached the deck, sailors were running everywhere, heaving at lines, shortening sail, readying long sweeps. The wind had died to a breeze, and the clouds were scattering, now.

Egwene rushed to the rail. “It is! It is Tar Valon!” Nynaeve joined her with an expressionless face.

The island was so big it looked more as if the river split in two than contained a bit of land. Bridges that seemed to be made of lace arched from either bank to the island, crossing marshy ground as well as the river. The walls of the city, the Shining Walls of Tar Valon, glistened white as the sun broke through the clouds. And on the west bank, its broken top leaking a thin wisp of smoke, Dragonmount reared black against the sky, one mountain standing among flat lands and rolling hills. Dragonmount, where the Dragon had died. Dragonmount, made by the Dragon’s dying.

Egwene wished she did not think of Rand when she looked at the mountain. Think of his death. He will not go mad, he won't.

The River Queen passed through a wide opening in a tall, circular wall that thrust out into the river. Inside, one long wharf surrounded a round harbor. Sailors furled the last sails and used sweeps alone to move the ship stern-first to its docking. Around the long wharf, the other ships that had come downriver were now being snugged into their berths among the ships already there. The White Flame banner set workers scurrying along the already busy wharf.

The Amyrlin came on deck before the shore lines were tied off, but dockworkers ran a gangplank aboard as soon as she appeared. Leane walked at her side, flame-tipped staff in hand, and the other Aes Sedai on the ship followed them ashore. None of them so much as glanced at Egwene or Nynaeve. On the wharf a delegation greeted the Amyrlin—shawled Aes Sedai, bowing formally, kissing the Amyrlin’s ring. The wharf bustled, between ships unloading and the Amyrlin Seat arriving; soldiers formed up on disembarking, men set booms for cargo; trumpet flourishes rang from the walls, competing with cheers from the onlookers.

Nynaeve gave a loud sniff. “It seems they’ve forgotten us. Come along. We’ll see to ourselves.”

Egwene was reluctant to leave her first sight of Tar Valon, but she followed Nynaeve below to gather their things. When they came back topside, bundles in their arms, soldiers and trumpets were gone—and Aes Sedai, too. Men were swinging back hatches along the deck and lowering cables into the holds.

On the deck, Nynaeve caught a dockman’s arm, a burly fellow in a coarse brown shirt with no sleeves. “Our horses,” she began.

“I’m busy,” he growled, pulling free. “Horses’ll all be took to the White Tower.” He looked them up and down. “If you’ve business with the Tower, best you take yourselves on. Aes Sedai don’t hold with newlings being tardy.” Another man, wrestling with a bale being swung out of the hold on a cable, shouted to him, and he left the women without a backwards glance.

Egwene exchanged looks with Nynaeve. It seemed they really were on their own.

Nynaeve stalked off the ship with grim determination on her face, but Egwene made her way dejectedly down the gangplank and through the tarry smell that hung over the wharf. All that talk about wanting us here, and now they don’t seem to care.

Broad stairs led up from the dock to a wide arch of dark redstone. On reaching it, Egwene and Nynaeve stopped to stare.

Every building seemed a palace, though most of those close to the arch seemed to contain inns or shops, from the signs over the doors. Fanciful stonework was everywhere, and the lines of one structure seemed designed to complement and set off the next, leading the eye along as if everything were part of one vast design. Some structures did not look like buildings at all, but like gigantic waves breaking, or huge shells, or fanciful, wind-sculpted cliffs. Right in front of the arch lay a broad square, with a fountain and trees, and Egwene could see another square further on. Above everything rose the towers, tall and graceful, some with sweeping bridges between them, high in the sky. And over all rose one tower, higher and wider than all the rest, as white as the Shining Walls themselves.

“Fair takes the breath at first sight,” said a woman’s voice behind them. “At tenth sight, for that. And at hundredth.”

Egwene turned. The woman was Aes Sedai; Egwene was sure of it, though she wore no shawl. No one else had that ageless look; and she held herself with an assurance, a confidence that seemed to confirm it. A glance at her hand showed the golden ring, the serpent biting its own tail. The Aes Sedai was a little plump, with a warm smile, and one of the oddest-appearing women Egwene had ever seen. Her plumpness could not hide high cheekbones, her eyes had a tilt to them and were the clearest, palest green, and her hair was almost the color of fire. Egwene barely stopped herself from goggling at that hair, those slightly slanted eyes.

“Ogier built, of course,” the Aes Sedai went on, “and their best work ever, some say. One of the first cities built after the Breaking. There weren’t half a thousand people here altogether then—no more than twenty sisters—but they built for what would be needed.”

“It is a lovely city,” Nynaeve said. “We are supposed to go to the White Tower. We came here for training, but no one seems to care if we go or stay.”

“They care,” the woman said, smiling. “I came here to meet you, but I was delayed speaking with the Amyrlin. I am Sheriam, the Mistress of Novices.”

“I am not to be a novice,” Nynaeve said in a firm voice, but a little too quickly. “The Amyrlin herself said I was to be one of the Accepted.”

“So I was told.” Sheriam sounded amused. “I have never heard of it being done so before, but they say you are... exceptional. Remember, though, even one of the Accepted can be called to my study. It requires more breaking of the rules than for a novice, but it has been known to happen.” She turned to Egwene as if she had not seen Nynaeve frown. “And you are our new novice. It is always good to see a novice come. We have too few, these days. You will make forty. Only forty. And no more than eight or nine of those will be raised to the Accepted. Though I don’t think you will have to worry about that too much, if you work hard and apply yourself. The work is hard, and even for one with the potential they tell me you have, it will not be made any easier. If you cannot stick to it, no matter how hard it is, or if you will break under the strain, better we find it out now, and let you go on your way, than wait until you are a full sister and others are depending on you. An Aes Sedai’s life is not easy. Here, we will prepare you for it, if you have in you what is required.”

Egwene swallowed. Break under the strain? “I will try, Sheriam Sedai,” she said faintly. And I will not break.

Nynaeve looked at her worriedly. “Sheriam...” She stopped and took a deep breath. “Sheriam Sedai”—she seemed to force the honorific out—“does it have to be so hard on her? Flesh and blood can only take so much. I know… something… of what novices must go through. Surely there’s no need to try to break her just to find out how strong she is.”

“You mean what the Amyrlin did to you today?” Nynaeve’s back stiffened; Sheriam looked as though she were trying to keep amusement from her face. “I told you I spoke with the Amyrlin. Rest your worries for your friend. Novice training is hard, but not that hard. That is for the first few weeks of being one of the Accepted.” Nynaeve’s mouth fell open; Egwene thought the Wisdom’s eyes were going to come right out of her head. “To catch the few who might have slipped through novice training when they should not have. We cannot risk having one of our number—a full Aes Sedai—who will break under the stress of the world outside.” The Aes Sedai gathered them both up, an arm around the shoulders of each. Nynaeve hardly seemed to realize where she was going. “Come,” Sheriam said, “I will see you settled in your rooms. The White Tower awaits.”

Chapter Text

Amadine 4-10, 998 NE (June 11th-17th)

I should not have worried about it. Moiraine had Lan keep me busy during the day to keep her sisters from bothering me, making me train constantly on the slow march, taking advantage of my supernatural stamina as a Warder and a chinnar’veren.

That first morning after the attack, as we met up with the Amyrlin’s party and Moiraine was sucked into the orbit of her sisters, Lan lead me to the pannier of one of our horses, a brown, stolid creature who eyed us with boredom before he snorted and continued grazing. Inside was armor; a simple chainmail shirt, a stiff cream quilted gambeson to wear underneath, emblazoned with a sinuous red and gold dragon over my breast, steel faulds with leather tassets meant to protect my waist and upper thighs, a pair of chain legging and a pair quilted cuisse and greaves to protect my legs. The steel was bright and shining, well-formed, the leather tassets dark red like dried blood and the quilt of the greaves and cuisse a cream with red and yellow tongues of flame embroidered on the edges, the mail tight and even. This was the work of a castle’s armorer. Lord Agelmar’s blacksmiths must have made this.

“I had this made for you,” Lan explained. “You’re ready for it. Moiraine added the heraldry last minute, and we left quicker than I could have expected, so I had to wait behind for them to finish her silly decorations. There was to be a helm, but with the way your head changes when you become so’shan I reconsidered. We will have to figure out something. Head injuries are dangerous, scales,” Lan spoke quietly beside me, any of the usual gruffness gone, his voice as placid as a winter pond.

I felt a fondness for the Warder then, happy for the gift, at the same time a little sad. It was another step further from Rand al’Thor, Two Rivers Shepherd, and another step close to Rand al’Thor, Lord Dragon, but that was the path I had chosen when I embraced Moiraine’s plan. I should move forward without any regret. I shook my head, chasing away such thoughts.

“Thank you, Lan Gaidin,” I said formally, bowing simply at the waist, before standing straight and grinning. “Can I try it on? The chain looks very fine.”

Lan smiled briefly, which sent a warning bell ringing in my head. “Of course, Rand Gaidin.” It sounded more than a little mocking. “As your brother Warder it is my place to guide you. And that is why you will put this armor on, and not take it off until we stop for camp. Nor will you be riding, you will be running.” I grimaced. “I must get you used to moving in your armor as much, and as fast, as possible. Stamina is one thing you do not lack, but I can always train it more.”

And so that started my training on our slow journey westward to Medo, I would run up and down the snake of the hundreds of soldiers, their pikes glinting in the early summer sun. After the first day of simple running, Lan showed up throughout the day to engage me in running spars where I could not stop for over three seconds, which ended up being mostly me desperately dodging attacks and glancing blows until Lan knocked me into the grass or the dirt road or against a tree. It was brutal training, more intense than Lan had been in Fal Dara, and when he ran me ragged, there would be Moiraine, ready to top me back up and Heal my bruises with a slim hand on my cheek and a smile. I always did better when Lan let me become so’shan, the Lord Form elevating my strength and stamina to go toe to toe with Lan, with a true Warder, but then he would simply beat me with an unstoppable skill that I could not hope to match yet. Some day, but not yet. I told myself it had been less than two months since we started, but some small part of me still felt a sting with every loss.

The Warders watched me with the same eyes that Lan had early on—and sometimes still did—as if I were a child, playing make-believe. Some, at least, seemed to approve how I always got back up. One Warder—he said his name was Tomas but did not offer his Aes Sedai’s name—stopped by our tent the first night and told me with time and blood, the others would open up, that they treated all ‘wild’ Warders the same until they proved themselves to be the match of any ‘tower’ Warder. I think I would have been angry about the ostracization if I hadn't proved I didn't act like a Warder just last night. Instead, I thanked him for the advice and wished him well.

The Aes Sedai pretended to not watch, but there were always a couple—different assortments of Ajah every time, but never Red—that would watch the beatdowns Lan gave me. They made me tense at first, caused me to slip up and make mistakes until Lan asked me, quite loudly, if I was finished playing around for the ladies and would get serious. The laughter from nearby soldiers and the contemptuous snort of a blond, mustachioed Warder set steel in my spine and forced the Aes Sedai out of my mind.

For brief moments, I could see Egwene, who rode beside a Nynaeve that alternated between cool disdain and glaring stares. It was mostly when we stopped for rest or meals, as Lan would make sure I ended up near Egwene, I assumed so we could speak together, sometimes off alone. It was kind of him, though Moiraine was always nearby us in those times as well, eyes sharp while she spoke with a sister of hers—different every time—but with a sense of contentment in the bond. When I questioned her the first night, she simply smiled and said, “You look softer around her, and I would rather spend my rest with the both of you, but I must keep up appearances with my sisters. Hovering like a mother hen around a new Warder is considered quite normal, especially when he seeks out a young woman. Myrelle thinks I am being overly permissive, but I told her I trust you.” And that was that.

I told Egwene of Mat as soon as I could, when we were far enough away to speak of such things, away from the prying ears of Warders and where I did not feel the chill of saidar that signaled a woman channeling. We sat nestled in against the moss-covered roots of an old oak, whispering. My chainmail lay draped over a nearby root and Egwene lay her head on my gambeson, content to ignore how sweaty I was. I had been explaining the situation before the attack, the conversation with Ingtar—glossing over the Aiel situation—and Mat's big mouth and how Moiraine made us talk it out.

“It is not like Mat apologized, but he seems to understand my reasoning now. He finds the fact that I am not a romantic genius, and that the ‘witchery is all mine’, hilarious.” I grumbled quietly. “If he can keep his mouth shut, and actually treat me like the friend I supposedly am, I’ll know things are better.”

Egwene wore a stout green riding dress, with brown divided skirts and red roses embroidered on the hem and the cuffs. Her voice had a curious lilt. “While I'm glad you and Mat are on speaking terms again, you told them about the bond? With how you vilify it in your mind, I wouldn’t think you’d tell anyone who wasn’t one of us, a wife or wife-to-be.”

“How else would I explain how Moiraine did not hold my leash? That whatever she did to me, whatever twisty plans she makes, she could not hurt me, could not seek me gentled, that we are bound together for better and worse. Mat was quite worried I was being made a False Dragon, set up to be used, gentled and die. Perrin and I set him straight.”

Egwene shivered and snuggled closer to me, her voice barely audible, “Being made the true Dragon is not much better, Rand…”

“It is the truth, though. Soon enough I will be known to all. Light, I will be king of my own country. It seems silly to say out loud, but I’ve known it ever since spoke to that spirit, the Iridescent Flame. I just don't like to think about it too much.”

“You’re letting her push that on you. You don’t need to be king. You can just be Rand al’Thor, and be the Dragon without becoming a lord. You don’t need to change that much, do you?” Her voice sounded a little desperate, muffled as it was by her speaking into my chest.

I was a little shocked hearing this from her. I had not realized she felt that strongly. “Egwene,” I pleaded a little, “my lessons with Moiraine have taught me the Westlands are a mess of squabbling, slowly dying nations born from the horrors of the War of the Hundred Years, and empty lands of former nations, abandoned by humanity. Our lands need a single leader to stand behind, to lead them and that is going to be me, whether or not I like it. I am the Dragon Reborn, and I will bind and break nations to my will. It is inevitable, so I do not fight it, just like with Moiraine.”

Egwene harrumphed, and raised her head, eyes gleaming. “You were always stubborn. Don’t get too big an ego when I’m not there to pop it. You may become High King, but for all I care, you’ll always be that boy scrambling in the mud for worms, jumping off the highest branch into the pools of the Waterwood, getting your behind spanked red for drinking a bottle of apple brandy when you were thirteen. You’ll be the boy that made me flower crowns, clumsy and lopsided as they were, and let me join the other boys in their games even when they didn’t want me there. Remember that. Don’t forget it down south, where you came from.”

I held her tighter and darted down for a quick kiss, “I’ll remember every word you speak, Egwene al’Thor.” Her face turned red as a tomato, still unused to hearing those words. “And I will miss you when we must part. I wish you could come with us.”

That was the only moment we got to speak of such things, away from the Aes Sedai and the watchful eyes of Warders, and I did not see her again after the second attack. This attack was composed of two fists of Trollocs, led by three Myrddraal seemed to know exactly where to attack the camp to capture the Horn. They failed, of course, but Moiraine had us leave in secret in the early morning of the 7th of Amadine while the camp was still in chaos.

The battle had been fierce, the shouts of “Shadowspawn!” and “Trolloc raid!” in the distance woke Moiraine and I up from travel cot we slept on. I had sprung out of the too small bed I’d spent the last two nights sleeping on, hitting my head and shoulders on the top of the white tent and nearly lifting it off the ground and tearing out the stakes. Moiraine could hide her amusement from her face, but not the brief frisson in the bond.

Embarrassed, I knelt and put on the armor Lan had given me, shrugging the gambeson over my bare chest and tying my quilted cuisse and greaves tight before putting on the faulds and tassets, the soft sound of leather slapping quilted armor. I pulled the chain leggings carefully over my legs, slipping into my boots and belted my sword, as Lan helped Moiraine into her riding dress. I hadn’t even heard him come in, yawning despite my fear and the worry I sensed from Moiraine. I slapped my cheeks, and then assumed ko’di, burning away everything that worried and gnawed at me, until I was One with myself, with my blade, and with the moment. I am to be a Warder, I told myself, even if Lan himself does not believe it yet.

I pulled on the energy beneath my skin and changed, transforming into the so’shan, the Lord Form of a shapechanger, with my mane of red-gold hair bracketed by sweptback golden antlers and long, pointed ears. Scarlet and gold scales dusted my jaw and around my eyes and covered my fingers, which ended with golden claws. My teeth were sharp and pointed and a flicker of rainbow flame could be seen in the back of my throat.

As we left the tent, we followed a stream of other Aes Sedai who exited their tents with their Warders as well, all alert and calm in their faces, though some Aes Sedai were betrayed by nervous tics and mannerism, like tapping their arm or clenching their fingers white. Every pair seemed to turn whenever I got near, catching themselves staring before the urgency of the night moved them. In the distance I could hear the soldiers of the camp began waking up, the rustling of hundreds of men putting on armor and grabbing weapons filling the air. The Shienarans were on the far side of camp and I did not see any close by, but I assumed Ingtar was gathering his lancers.

“We must find the Amyrlin,” Moiraine said as we moved to the edge of camp, close to the Horn, and I felt the oily feeling of shadowspawn, like rancid fat dripping down my arms, growing with intensity. “But if we cannot, Lan will protect me as I guard the Horn, and Rand, you will deal with the Trollocs with your flames. Leave the Myrddraal for experienced Warders.”

Soon enough we moved to the edge of the camp, the sound of clashing steel and the crackling of fire filled the night as Trollocs poured out of the forest meeting the closest Warders blade with blade, while fireballs the size of a pony landed amongst the horde. They were lead by three Myrddraal who seemed to ignore the Warders closest to them. They strode with a sure step in sinuous movement, sallow eyeless faces scanning the camp before them, rippling black cloaks as solid as night. They strode easily through the chaos, a destination in mind. Soldiers in knots of two and three, some only half-armored, trickled in from behind us, joining the frontline of Warders.

Moiraine’s worry intensified, and she stopped where she was. “No time, that’s at least two fists if not three. Rand.”

That was all she had to say. I seized saidin, weaving the Gentle Feather in a harness around me in quick, familiar motions, before I took off sprinting. A knot of Aes Sedai surrounded a normal tent amongst the many others—a tent that guarded the Horn of Valere—and three Warders guarded them, each facing a Myrddraal that seemed to zero in on them immediately, dismissively ignoring and dodging attack against them by the Warders who tore paths through the Trollocs to reach the Myrddraal. Other Aes Sedai were scattered about in pairs and foursomes, presumably each in a circle, the chill on my skin frigid. The Warders of the frontline worked in pairs and threesomes, back to back as they carved trenches of death through the shadowspawn attack, the Amyrlin’s soldier behind them holding the line with their pikes, sticking any Trolloc that survived to reach them. I leapt into the air with my powerful legs, flying over Aes Sedai and soldier, Warder and stinking Trolloc, before releasing the weave and letting myself fall like a rock in a pond in the middle of the horde, releasing my dragonfire to clear my landing.

I Unfolded the Fan, unsheathing my sword and bringing out and across the chest of the closest unburnt Trolloc, and then blew a tongue of flame, grasping the Flame Imperishable with a thread of Fire and infusing my blade. The Power-wrought sword shone opalescent, a pleasant warmth radiating from the blade and the closest shadowspawn began screaming at the sight. My blade was swift to end the sound as it cut through it like a hot knife through butter and it melted like wax. The Oneness was with me.

Then the horde rushed in. It was chaos, the push and pull of tides of hulking bodies that threatened to overwhelm the Oneness as I swung and swung and swung and swung and swung and swung. My sword killed every Trolloc it bit, but they just kept coming. I’m glad Lan had me train swinging the sword so much, came the thought skittering across the Void. I blew my dragonfire in long sweeps, burning rank beastmen until they melted like wax, my throat throbbing. I was hot and sweaty in my gambeson by the time I realized other Warders had been cutting through the Trollocs to join me, shouting “Lord Drake!”, eyes bright with fervor. I glanced behind me at the camp, seeing an expanse of dead Trollocs, by blade and by flame, and near the Horn’s tent I saw a single Myrddraal, bleeding black blood, dancing amongst three Warders and Lan as they dealt glancing blows, slowing it with each cut. The two other Halfmen were weakly writhing on the ground, limbs shorn from their bodies. In an instant, almost faster than I could see, Lan Plucks The Low-Hanging Apple, his own Power-wrought sword sliced cleanly through the Myrddraal’s neck, and he pulled his blade out just as quickly—a flick clearing the black acidic blood off the blade—letting the Myrddraal’s head tumble to the ground. Any surviving Trollocs fall to the ground, struck dead. The attack had been foiled. I stumbled a little, throat sore, and arm heavy.

I had wished to say goodbye to Egwene, but we had to leave in secret, so no Darkfriends hidden in the camp would know when we had left, or how fast we moved. The corpse bonfires tended by wary soldiers lit the forest as every guardian of the Horn of Valere all slipped away in pairs and threesomes westward to a small clearing maybe half an hour from where the Amyrlin had made camp. Once everyone was ready—the Horn having been secured to Loial’s large shaggy horse while he would run beside it—we left, riding at far too early an hour, any hope of sleep gone.

In the quiet pre-dawn of the 7th of Amadine, the Shienarans dead quiet and only the sound of jangling harness and horses breathing broke the night—Mat and Perrin quiet and uneasy after the second attack—until Moiraine started whispering quietly to me, loud enough that my chinnar’veren ears could hear easily but no one else nearby would notice much. I had yet to release the Lord Form, anticipating another attack, and just feeling safer, more secure, as a so’shan.

“I fear I must warn you even further of my sisters. We do not talk it about, and you should never mention it to another Aes Sedai, but the Black Ajah exists, and is an active threat to our goals. That is to say, both the goals of the White Tower, and us as a couple, Rand. I speculate that a Black Sister is who told the Myrddraal where to find the Horn. They knew where to go to before they even saw it, heading right for its general direction, even though every night the Amyrlin had it moved to a different tent and only Aes Sedai and Warders knew which.” She grimaced, the next words she spoke souring her expression. “These Black Ajah, they are Darkfriends amongst the White Tower, our hidden shame. Somehow, some way, they have figured out how to circumvent the Three Oaths. They lie, they build weapons in secret, they use the One Power for violence freely. I have fought them myself, before. They are as dangerous a foe for you as can be, below a Forsaken, and at least one of them was in the Amyrlin’s party. They have decades if not centuries of channeling experience under their belt, Rand.” She sighed quietly, though it was loud in the surrounding silence. “If I was feeling petty, I’d name Liandrin Sedai a Black Sister, but such things are beneath me. Do not trust any Aes Sedai that is not me.”

Coincidence, or the Pattern, amplified that warning when not an hour later, Verin Sedai, the absent-minded Brown Sister who knew I was the Dragon Reborn, came out of the trees riding from behind us, sitting as regal as a queen on her piebald mare. How did she know how to follow us? And where is her Warder?

“Oh Moiraine,” she called out, as soldiers warily let her pass once they realised she was an Aes Sedai. “I do wish you had told me you were leaving. I told you I was taking notes to start a book on the Horn and on your interesting young man. I have so much to write already, it will be a blessing once we reach Medo and I can sit down snug on the ship and get some thoughts down.” She absently rubbed her nose, and her eyes seemed a thousand leagues away. “He was quite a sight earlier, your new Warder, leaping high enough he almost seemed to fly, and his sword turning that opalescent color. Quite a sight, like one out of a tale. They’ll certainly be speaking of him for weeks in the Tower gossip. All the Green Sisters will be out of their mind with jealousy, you know.” Verin absently smiled at me with eyes that did not seem to truly see me, before turning back to Moiraine, eyes much sharper for a moment. “One would think you didn’t wish me to join you, leaving in secret without even telling Siuan.” Then they’re back to absently roaming the soldiers, lighting on Mat and Perrin who both squirm under their lazy gaze. “It will be a book about all your young men, Moiraine. They’re all so interesting. The golden eyes are quite striking in the moonlight. I have seen their like before. Something new, or something old, that is the question.” What does she mean?

She only broke her gaze on Perrin when Ingtar rode back from his place at the front, calling out to the Brown Sister. “You would honor me, Verin Sedai, to have another Aes Sedai willing to guard and see the Horn to Illian, for the journey has been deadly already. But I must ask, where is your Warder? Will he be arriving soon?”

Verin frowned, a look of mild frustration darting across her absent expression. “Tomas has other business to attend to that unfortunately cannot wait, but I will accompany you all on your journey. An Aes Sedai alone is surely worth more than a warder, Lord Shinowa, even bound by the Three Oaths? While I will mostly act as historiographer for this quest, I will certainly act in defense of the party and its goal. You will have your two channelers guarding the Horn.” It was her Warder that visited me. Coincidence?

Moiraine stared her sister, a feeling of foreboding and resignation resonating with my own. Verin Sedai seemed to do as she wished in her absent-minded way, even in front of the Amyrlin Seat. Is it because she is a Black Sister, I could not help wondering, is it all a ruse? “It is a stronger woman than I that can keep you from your research topics, Verin, nor do I wish to. There would be no better sister of mine to take down the annals of our journey, and the truth of the matter. Ride with me, we have much to speak of, if you truly intend to stick with us.”

The ride to Medo took all day and into the night, only stopping for brief rests and an hour for lunch, during which Moiraine washed away the fatigue of the horses. In the village itself Moiraine interrupted the quiet evening, making clear her desire for passage came from the Amyrlin Seat wishing to see her swiftly off which allowed her to commandeer a ship, one of the several that anchored in the river for the Amyrlin’s party to return.

A purple-grey predawn of the 8th of Amadine lit the sky by the time we finally left, and I felt fine despite not sleeping over four hours in the last thirty-something hours, my throat having healed quickly and the soreness in my sword arm already gone. My ability to recover is extraordinary, days of running in twenty, thirty pounds of armor, and a battle, yet I feel as fit as a fiddle. I had yet to see how long I could truly go without rest, but I knew Lan could be awake for days. Moiraine, Verin Sedai and I stood on the deck of a large boat, lit by glass-walled lanterns and the predawn, called the Seamaid’s Kiss. It was stout enough to take all twenty-six of our horses, but only barely, and the sailors worked the crane for hours lifting horses into the hold.

“Oh, oh my,” Verin said quietly as she joined us in a circle and drunk deeper of the One Power than she ever had before. Moiraine was planning on weaving the wind to carry us as rapidly as possible, using saidar and her rudimentary control over saidin, changing into the so’shan so she wouldn’t have to touch tainted saidin. “This is… I can see why you are so affectionate with your young man. The kinds of weaves that we could work with this amount of Power, with saidin as clean as saidar…” Verin’s eye were wide and aware, seeming to take in everything before her as a new sight, a calculating look that made me want to shiver but I stood tall. “Yes, I certainly can see. You best treat this young man right. He is a gift in this benighted Age, a gift indeed.”

There were few sailors awake, and none paid us any attention if they knew what was good for them. None stood close enough to hear us, nor even looked at us. Paying attention to Aes Sedai meant they paid attention to you, and even Tar Valon sailors would rather not have to deal with an Aes Sedai questioning you, maintaining that cool, collected calm even as their tongue cut you into pieces. Or at least, that was how Moiraine explained their obeisance to me.

Moiraine wrapped a hand around my neck, pulling me down closer to her and giving me another soft kiss, looking me straight in the eyes, as something that I dare not call love filled her heart. My heart beat fast as I sunk into the moment of intimacy, letting the weight of my future, and my nervousness of channeling around another Aes Sedai, disappear. She had been doing that recently, kissing me. Around others they were soft, and sweet but short. Alone… Alone, my Aes Sedai had revealed a hunger for kisses that rivaled Egwene’s. Deep kisses, soft kisses, hard kisses, biting kisses, she sought them all. Her neck bloomed with bruises that I quietly Healed each morning when I woke for training. My own hickies Moiraine left visible, not deigning to remove her marks on me. Egwene had called it obnoxious, but… I kind of liked it.

Moiraine’s voice interrupted my thoughts, sounding as satisfied as a cat’s purr. “I am lucky, for several reasons, and I treat him quite well. He gets privileges that no man would think of taking with an Aes Sedai, but in their secret hearts, and he gets trained by one of the greatest Warder’s of our time. What more could he ask for?”

Verin rolled her eyes and smiled indulgently at her, like an older sister with a younger sibling. “Yes, yes. You love your man.” Moiraine blushed for a brief second, protest rising and dying in her throat, turning into a whine, and I squirmed. Does she, truly? I questioned, is this love? Or merely two people finding comfort in one another. “You have made that abundantly clear to everyone. I swear, Lord Drake is turning you Green, Moiraine. You were always so prim and proper, when you weren’t planning those horrid pranks of yours. The gossip about you in the Tower is going to explode when the Amyrlin Seat returns. Moiraine Damodred, the first Blue Sister to ever bond two Warders.”

Moiraine flushed again with a sort of embarrassed pride. “I had wanted to be Green, when I was a novice. I will settle for Turquoise.”

Verin laughed, a cackle in the early morning that alarmed several nearby sailors, who stared before quickly looking away. “A Turquoise Sister, are you? The love of men and battle, with the unstoppable drive for your cause. I can see it, yes, I can see it very well. I think Siuan and Leane would join you in finding and bonding man they love, if they could, if the Hall wouldn’t pull them from their positions in shock at the flagrant disregard for rules and tradition and propriety.”

“I am not improper,” Moiraine protested, to which Verin simply raised an eyebrow and glanced at me. “It is a silly rule anyway, that an Aes Sedai can only bond one Warder unless she is Green.”

I spoke up, finding that a safe topic to speak on. “Why is it that Aes Sedai only bond one Warder?”

Verin started, and stared at me owlishly, as if she had not realized I could speak. “Oh, a number of reasons,” Verin Sedai explained. “Early in the White Tower, before traditions and strictures were set down in Tower Law, many sisters had more than one Warder. They even would bond men without their consent, a horrid action that is akin to rape these days, for a man can no more resist the bond than a young farm girl could resist a large man cornering her in the barn. Over the centuries, as the Ajahs became more strict with what Aes Sedai could and could not do, those who sought more Warders inevitably joined the less restrictive Ajahs which allowed sisters to bond multiple men. By the time the Trolloc Wars were over the loss of menfolk and population after centuries of genocidal war, and the constant loss of Warders that sisters suffered, meant that every Ajah but the Green had restricted bonding to a single man. That tradition held through the flowering of the Free Years, and the collapse of Artur Hawkwings Empire into the New Era, now.”

“You can give him more history lessons later, after we set the weave, Verin.”

“Oh, truly?” Verin blinked rapidly, her mouth forming a wide smile that made her square, placid face beautiful. “You will let me teach him? Truly?”

“Who should teach Rand history if not a Brown Sister? Focus on the here and now, though, Verin. Watch as I weave.”

And without further ado, Moiraine pulled on the deep well of saidin I channeled, seizing threads of yellow Air and blue Water, to mix with their flows of saidar. She wove a great funnel, delicate threads of saidar interwoven around thick, supporting threads of saidin, until the weave looked as if a great horn stretched into the sky. She tied it off, and almost immediately a strong wind blew against the sails, filling them, and our ship almost leapt into the air it began to move swiftly down the river, at speed. Soon enough the ship stabilized, and we were on our way down the river, on our way to Tar Valon, home of the White Tower and the Aes Sedai, as the sun rose.

Once the sun was above the horizon, I went down below deck to find Mat and Perrin’s cabin. Both lay sleeping, Perrin snoring in a low rumble and Mat with a pillow over his head. I glanced up and down the hallway, spotting no one, so I wove a torchflare and closed the cabin door. After a few seconds a bright flash lined the door, and shouts filled the air, of worry and surprise.

“Blood and ashes, what was that!” Mat exclaimed as I opened the door and walked back in, closing it quickly behind me.

“That was a torchflare weave, my loving friends. The sun is up, and so are you, now,” I said with a grin.

Mat went stiff. “You…” he glanced around uneasily, as if it were possible for someone else to hear. “You channeled?!” he whispered sharply.

“It’s a part of who I am. Get used to it,” I replied bluntly. “Soon enough I’ll be able to do it in public.”

“Don’t get into a fight so soon. Rand, why did you wake us up so early,” Perrin moaned. “I feel like I’ve just got to sleep.” He rolled over in his bed, smothering his face in the pillow.

“You’ve seen how dangerous our journey will be, you knew it before we returned to Fal Dara, yet neither of you have been training. That ends now. Every morning you’ll join me and Lan for Warder training, you’ll do the stretches, you’ll do the running, you’ll do the exercises, as much as we can aboard this ship.”

“Burn me, the Warder must have infected you like the Aes Sedai has. You think I’ll be wasting a good sleep in on this cramped boat with training, like I’m some fancy Lord’s son prancing about with a sword, or a stolid Shienar soldier? I’m not you. Light, Rand, I know it’s dangerous, but that is what Lan is for.”

I gave him a dismissive look which had Mat frowning, turning to Perrin. “And you Perrin?”

For a long minute there was quiet as Perrin lay face down, either sleeping or taking his time to form his words. When he sat up, and turned to face us, the words were slow and steady out his mouth, and caused Mat to frown deeper. “I think Rand is right. We should have been training with the Warder, like we did on the journey north. Trollocs attacked us twice in a week, and each time I felt absolutely useless, while the Shienaran’s and Rand seemed to know exactly what to do.” Perrin’s voice firms, and a determined look crosses his face. “I will join you Rand. I need to learn how to fight.”

Mat looked between us and grumbled, before standing up and rummaging through the small dresser, tossing a shirt to Perrin, before putting one on himself. “Well, you going to stand and watch us change?”

I flushed with annoyed embarrassment, and swiftly exited the room, heading back upstairs to the foredeck to where Lan stood waiting, his face a stone mask, all sharp lines and hard edges. His brown hair, tinged at the root with gray, stood blowing in the strong wind. I called out to him as I approached. “Lan Gaidin, Mat and Perrin will join us this morning.”

He grunted affirmatively, but said nothing else, instead swiftly moving to a chest I had not noticed tucked underneath the stairs to the half-deck, pulling out a short spear with a simple leaf-shaped spearhead and a haft of ash wood. Perrin came up first, nervously fiddling with the shaft of his half-moon axe, while Mat used his quarterstaff as a walking stick.

“No, farmboy. You need a weapon with lethality. Take this,” Lan ordered Mat, tossing the haft of the spear at him. Mat reached to catch it, dropping his quarterstaff which clattered on the deck. He held it awkwardly, as if it might bite him, staring warily at the shining steel point of the spear. The rest of the morning involved Lan forcing me to teach Mat and Perrin how to stretch, brief sprints back and forth across the deck, and weapon drills. It was even harder than normal, on a deck that moved. Lan told me to consider it more training.

“Unfolding The Fan, to The Ox Lowers His Horns,” Lan called out, “then The Moon On The Water.” I did as he asked. “More thrust, scales. You want to make sure your point is set straight and true. Farmboy,” he called out to Mat, “the same goes for you, I want you to thrust straight and true a dozen times in a row from the waist. I’ll tell you when you need to start over. And blacksmith, no more feeble slashes. These will be Trollocs you face, you will need all that strength of yours the tear that axe through their armor and into their bellies. Put that hammer arm to work.”

And that was how the mornings of the 8th through the 10th went. I woke Mat and Perrin up with a torchflare, to no one’s amusement but mine own, yet it got them moving. We each got our weapons and tramped up the stairs to the deck, meeting Lan near the bow in the early purple-gray pre-dawn. And then we would stretch, exercise and drill, Lan barking orders that Mat and Perrin learned to follow as quickly as possible, unless they wanted to be knocked down by Lan, who would then narrate some horrible death by shadowspawn while they lay sprawled on the wooden deck.

“They’ll break your legs and tie you to a spit still screaming,” was one favorite image of Lan’s, as were the cookpots. “They’re big enough to fit a person inside, with room to stew them. It’s a delicacy to some bands of Trolloc’s, something they do for their twisted version of feastdays.” It made me, Mat, and Perrin ill, to hear of such things, and the sailors stayed far away once they heard the topic of conversation. These were Tar Valon sailors, they knew how real shadowspawn were. It did, however, seem to encourage the two, as much as it upset and angered us all. We had battled shadowspawn, escaped haunted cities, traveled the cursed Ways, and fought Forsaken, but we were still callow youths before Lan, as he loved to remind us.

In the late morning, with Perrin and Mat exhausted, Lan would let them rest as he had me spar every Shienaran soldier that wished to try ‘Lord Drake’, a number that increased each day. I never won a spar legitimately—some soldiers seemed to think I would appreciate them giving me a win—but I was closer and closer each day, as I got used to reacting to how the Shienaran’s fought. They fought stolid, with a vicious edge, often the only emotion they showed was mild enjoyment in the heat of the spar. Despite my losses, Lan said little as he watched these spars, besides occasionally pointing out things I did wrong, and even less often, what I did right. Once again I had to tell myself it had been less than two months since we started, but part of me still felt that sting with every loss, and every ill-gained win.

Verin Sedai would watch the spars with Moiraine, and as they spoke quietly Verin wrote notes in a spidery hand on a writing board that held her papers with a clip. After Lan was finished with me, I'd spend the afternoon with Verin Sedai in her cabin, learning of Illian, the kingdom I would rule soon enough. It was a proud southern nation on the coast of the Sea of Storms, born out of the end of the War of the Hundred Years, and named for the city that was its capitol and main city, a great trading port. The rest of the nation was mostly sprawling olive groves, and farming villages that fed Illian, with occasional small towns on the main roads, that cater to travelers and merchant trains, and were often the seats of the Council of Nine. Because, as it turned out, the King of Illian is not all powerful like a king in a tale. There were two different groups of people, citizens of the nation of Illian, that the King was beholden to listen to: the Council of Nine, comprising nine powerful nobles of Illian, and the Assemblage, a group chosen by and from Illian's merchant and ship owners.

“This three-way struggle for power, between the King, the Council of Nine, and the Assemblage is what some claim is a system free of tyranny, and others call it inefficient and slow, unable to act swiftly. The granting of simple merchant’s and captain’s a say in the government of Illian is met with derision elsewhere, especially in Tear, but Illian’s wealth and trade proves their value. You cannot ignore them, nor should you. They are the weathervane of the common people, just as the Council of Nine is the weathervane for the nobility. Neither will ever be completely satisfied with you, young man, not ever, but it will be your job to navigate such treacherous currents.” Her eyes suddenly took on a serious gleam. “Be glad you have Moiraine Sedai to help you, she grew up in even murkier waters.”

Chapter Text

Amadine 11, 998 NE (June 18th)

I awoke from a dream, and sat on the edge of the cabin’s single bed unable to sleep, as I whispered the lines that rang in my head, seeming to mean something, and gave the feeling of nostalgic anticipation. “Lets turn our prayers to outrageous dares, and mark our page in a future age, high above the sea of cars and barking dogs in fenced in yards.” The snores in other cabins, and the quiet murmurs of sailors lay interwoven with the susurration of the waves and the sail catching the wind, and I thought it enough to cover my voice.

“What poem is that from? I have not heard it,” came Moiraine's sleepy voice from the cramped ship bed. It was still night but closer to morning and I had certainly not meant to wake her up. We slept in the single decent sized bed of the captain’s cabin. He had given it to us when the Shienarans called me Lord Drake, setting him sputtering and bowing in obeisance, unaware I was noble. I had hidden my lordship for only half a day.

“I heard it in a dream,” I whispered in the dark.

That caused a frisson of worry, and I heard Moiraine move to sit up.

“Not one of those dreams. Different, more like a memory.” I added. Dreams could be dangerous, as I knew too well. I rubbed the heron mark on my palm absently.

“Mmm.” She fell back, but I could feel her eyes on me. “Tell me about it, please.”

“I was in a room with red walls and a white ceiling, pockmarked. Dozens of books filled the bookshelf in front of the large soft bed I lay on, and I did not recognize the language. There was music playing as I lay there listening, but no one played it, the music just hanging in the air. There was the strum of the bittern and some instrument that played clear warm notes, and another akin to a drum but more, with clashing and ringing metal. I remember all the lyrics as they were simple and short, and I knew the name of the song somehow. In A Future Age…” I pause, taking a deep breath. “I think it’s a memory from the soul stitched to mine,” I whispered.

That caught her attention. I could feel the wash of realization in her, which confused me. “How very interesting. Sing it for me, please, the lyrics could matter.”

Softly, I sang into the early morning, my voice low and clear.

Genuine day will come

When the wind

Decides to run

And shakes the stairs

That stab the wall

And turns the page

In a future age

Some trees will bend

And some will fall

But then again

So will us all

Lets turn our prayers

Into outrageous dares

And mark our page

In a future age

High above

The sea of cars

And barking dogs

In fenced-in yards

I trailed off. My voice was deep and melodious in a way it had not been before, in the memories, and Moiraine sat in bed with her eyes closed, enjoyment obvious even without the bond.

“You have a wonderful singing voice, Rand. I cannot believe I had never heard it before.”

“That's because I don't think I had it before.” How many times more would I stumble onto something new, something changed about me? I shook my head of such pointless thoughts and told myself being able to sing was a fine thing. Especially since Moiraine liked it. Egwene would like it as well. It could be a surprise for her. “Sorry for waking you.” Moiraine waved me off, repeating the lyrics quietly to herself.

“What is a car?” I asked after listening to her murmur for about a minute.

“Chief in the Old Tongues, in which case the lyrics should be ‘High above the sea of chiefs’. What a fascinating song,” she said, sounding a little sleepy. “I am almost certain it is some kind of Dreaming, a prophetic dream rare channelers get. What do you think it means? There should be a feeling or a message that comes to you, if it truly is a Dream.”

I considered that. When I woke up I felt something which I could glean little meaning from, but as I examined the lyrics, I came to some conclusions. I was unsure what the first half could mean, as the wind had nothing to do with the Dark One, but the second half, with the word translated, made much more sense. “The dream gave me a feeling of nostalgia, and like I was expecting something. If this is supposed to mean something, I think the second half is telling me to be bold and dream big, to not worry about the death that comes for us all and instead mark my place in history as the Dragon Reborn above the people in power and their ‘barking dogs in fenced in yards’.”

She hummed and sounded more awake when she spoke. “That is a good interpretation. I think for the first half one could make a reasonable argument is about announcing the Dragon Reborn’s existence. You will shake the world when you decide to run, meaning embrace your destiny, you shake the stairs of the house of the Creator, the world, and turn the page to a future age, leading the world into an Age of Light.” Moiraine smiled, curiosity buzzing in the bond. “What an interesting little puzzle. It could mean nothing at all, simply be memories of another Age bubbling up from your soul and by chance it seems prophetic. Tell me of your other dreams if you have them.”

“I have dreamed of other songs, some that don’t have any lyrics. Those I can play on Thom’s flute later—I mostly get strange songs full of unfamiliar instruments when they don’t have words—but I only remember one with lyrics, and then only partially and I certainly don’t remember how I felt when I woke up. I was singing it with others, in the dream. That’s all I can remember.”

I hummed the tune, and sang the lyrics I could remember, including a quiet double clap and the ‘oooh oooh oooh’. I felt a little silly doing it, but it made the song pop. Moiraine hummed along as she caught the tune.

We’ll find a way regardless

To make some sense out of this mess

Well, It's a test, but I believe

A kiss is all we need

All the above for being in love

Shouldn’t that alone be enough?

Oh, it’s tough when loves a weed

It grows inside of me

Nothing’s ever gonna stand in my

Nothing’s ever gonna stand in my

Nothing’s ever gonna stand in my way again

Waste the days, waste the nights

Try to downplay being uptight

Oh, you’re right, I believe

A kiss is all we need

Moiraine had a look on her face of consternation, and frustration bled into the bond. “You are a Dreamer, Rand. I am certain.” But that was all she would say, deciding to follow the song’s instruction and see if a kiss was really all we needed. Things evolved from there, and I was late to practice. Lan took it out on me with his practice sword, a bundle of rods bound tight that stung and raised welts with every successful blow. Lan had a dozen hits in by the time the White Tower crept over the tops of the hills.

Manipulating the winds to swiftly send us downriver had been child’s play for Moiraine and Verin in our circle, and we made quick time, landing in Tar Valon in the middle of the morning. I barely had time to change, wiping away my sweat with a wet cloth, before Moiraine swiftly led me through Tar Valon and into the White Tower. My mind was awhirl with the almost dreamlike nature of the city, its tall towers stretching like fingers into the heavens and lacy air-bridges that glittered like glass arcing over streets, the buildings like great oak trees and wind-worn cliff faces, the fountains spewing water a dozen feet high in nearly every square and the massive spire of the White Tower stretching high into the cerulean sky, greater still than the towers of Tar Valon.

The city was a true sight to behold, people of every color and clothing dominated the streets, accents of all sorts filling the air. It was a city the way the snatches of Caemlyn I remember were a city, but more. More beautiful, more people, more noise, just more. I was a slack-jawed yokel, not caring the humorous and annoyed looks residents must have given me as I stopped and stared at various buildings and beautiful statuary before Moiraine dragged me along, bringing us ever closer to the White Tower, which I found to be a startlingly wide building, for all its height.

All of this staring, all this wonder was to not think of the task that lay before me: Moiraine believed there was another woman to bind in the Tower, Min from Baerlon. I remember her, somewhat. Told me I would never be rid of her. I guess she was right, I thought to myself, and she’ll never be rid of me, either. I snorted to myself, drawing a disapproving eye from Moiraine.

My nervousness grew as we entered the Tower grounds, as the guards peace-bound my sword, tying the blade shut with a cord of white. No weapon would pass through the gates of the White Tower untouched, unless it was a Warder’s, and today we were pretending to be simple visitors. We passed by all manner of women with the same smooth face and knowing eyes, thankfully barely glancing at Moiraine and I, her in a fine green silk dress with the hood of her dark blue cloak up, and me behind her in lordly clothing, my coat colored bright green with brown piping, embroidered with silver trees that held gold-thread apples. Ingtar had laughed when he saw me wearing it and asked if I would bring him some suckling pig from the feast. We moved on through back ways and empty halls to a section of nearly pure white but for the colored tile floors, only seeing the occasional young woman in a dress of pure white quickly hurrying towards some destination or another. These were the Novice Quarters, where Min was staying.

Min had a gift, a Talent for seeing the future of people in the surrounding air. These Viewings of hers, they always came true, and one of them involved me and her together. We would fall in love, Moiraine had told me, Min and two other women, none of them Egwene. It fit the Prophecy—Six are the women he shall bind to his heart. Three lovers, two teachers, one enemy—but Min had claimed Egwene was fated for not me but another, which I proved false more than a month ago. That, or I somehow broke and rewove a thread of the Pattern, which was a terrifying thought Moiraine had casually voiced one day when I asked about what she thought had happened to bind Egwene to me.

The door to her room opened, and I saw her again, saw her for the first time in the flesh. Min was another beauty chosen for me by the Iridescent Flame, with big dark eyes that seemed to draw me in and a short bob of dark hair cut to her ears. She wore men’s clothing, a brown jacket and pants, but there was no way, I thought in that moment, any right-thinking man would find her a pretty boy, rather than a beautiful woman with an admittedly exotic fashion sense.

Behind her was a small room, whitewashed walls and a thin arrowslit of a window that let in a stream of sunlight, a small bed with a lumpy mattress and a washbasin, plus a small chair and table tucked into a corner. There were no personal touches in the room, no flowers or wallcoverings, certainly no paintings. It was a drab room Min lived in, in the Novice’s Quarters, where Egwene would soon live. She would hate living in such a flat, boring place. The weight of the Bonder,—No no, it is a Binder. I must admit what it does—sat heavy in my hand, as we stared at each other.

Min’s face held a half-smile, as if she wasn’t sure she was happy to see us, while her body blocked the entrance. She glanced from me to Moiraine and back again, looking me over. “Moiraine Sedai, so glad you could finally show up after nearly a month. And you brought the sheepherder, how delightful. He looks quite dandy in those clothes. I love how the green makes his hair shine. What brings you both to my temporary humble abode?” Her voice was lower than I remembered, a little husky, and her tone was definitely not one the usual person took with an Aes Sedai. She was either brave, or foolish, and since she was to be my wife, she was brave.

“Words are better said with the door closed, I’ve always found,” Moiraine said with a cool smile, radiating a sense of authority.

Min let us in reluctantly, turning and plopping down on the bed. I felt the chill of saidar and the tug on the bond pull me into a circle, to watch a thread of yellow Air softly close the door, before Moiraine wove an eavesdropping ward and put it into place, covering the surfaces of the room with a net of Spirit, Air and Earth, deadening the air that filled the room and preventing the sound from leaving. Then she sat in the chair, leaving me standing awkwardly by the door.

“So what is it? What’s so important you have to suddenly just show up and sneak in here to see little ol’ me, Moiraine Sedai? I know you must have snuck in, because otherwise some Novice would have come and brought me to your quarters, just like every Aes Sedai who seeks to speak with me.” Min sounded frustrated, which was not a good sign.

“Do you want the whole truth? It may be hard to hear.”

Min took a deep breath,. “Of course I want the truth. Why are you here?”

“We are here because of Rand. Rand al’Thor is a man who can channel, but more importantly he is the Dragon Reborn, Elmindra, and you are one of his wives. That is why we are here today, to take you with us as we journey to Illian. Rand needs you by his side, just as you’ve forseen.”

Wait, her full name Elmindra?! I bet she hates that, I could not help thinking. Min stared blankly, her mind seemed unable to comprehend what Moiraine just said. I stared at Moiraine as well, not expecting her to just say it all.

“Pardon me?” Min finally said. “Is this some sort of strange Aes Sedai prank? And Illian? Light, I’d rather go home, please.”

Moiraine repeated herself. “I cannot lie and we do not have the time to bandy about the truth. At any moment a sister of mine could discover me, and question what I am doing here. Rand al’Thor, the ‘sheepherder' who stands before you, is the Dragon Reborn. He has been prophesied to have six wives, and one of them is you. I knew with what you saw in your Viewings of him you were a candidate, he held the Binder in his hand the moment he saw you, and you seem his type, slender with big eyes and a personality. It will be safer for you to journey with us, then risk a Darkfriend or worse learning how important you are, Min.”

“I have a type?” I asked, incredulous that Moiraine knew before I did. Moiraine looked at me, unamused. “No wait, this is all wrong. This is much too fast. Hi, hello Min. I’m Rand. Please ignore Moiraine, as she seems to be operating on a different timescale than us. I’d certainly like to get to know you before I revealed I am a man who’s destined to go mad and break the world but—” Moiraine used the One Power to slap the back of my head. I turned to her, and groused, “What was that for?”

“You know already that you won’t go mad like other men, Rand, and you won’t break the world. Egwene and I, and soon Min, and all the other women will make sure. We’ll need our husband sane if we’re going to have your children.” Moiraine spoke in a casual air, but the bond was a mess of different emotions, anticipation, worry, fear, hope, desire, all muddled and noisy.

At the blase pronouncement of an Aes Sedai having kids, Min went wide-eyed and said, “Wait, you’re a wife? An Aes Sedai as a wife? But I didn’t see you before, I only saw three, and you with...” Then she peered at me, for a long moment seeming to stare right through me. “But, what? How? How did you change your fate so drastically? That’s… that is impossible!” Min looked as if a foundation of her world had suddenly shifted.

So I explained. I explained how I had fought a Forsaken, much to Min’s dismay, and won, but was only barely better than dying. That another soul was stitched into my own—and this is what I believe changed my fate—by a spirit of the Creator, who gifted me revelation about my place in the Age's Pattern as the Dragon Reborn, and gave me a prophecy to bind six women to my heart, or risk losing the Last Battle. That the more women I bound, the more I would gain in unlock the powers of a shapechanger, a chinnar’veren. That with Min I could change into the so’gaighael, the Battlebeast Form.

Min seemed to have a lot of questions but she only asked one. “This other soul, that’s what changed your fate you think? I’ve never heard of such a thing before, and the only people who speak of spirits giving revelation are Whitecloaks. Though they do claim the Dragon Reborn will experience the same…” she finished, examining me critically.

“Definitely. However much of me is still Rand, I am also a man from a different Age. I act differently, I have different priorities, its not impossible to think my fate would be different as well, as I am longer the same person on a fundamental level. Still Rand, just… not the same Rand I was.”

Moiraine spoke up. “It is a stubborn fear of his, that he is not Rand. An impossible to prove fear that is irrelevant and meaningless.” I frowned at her, then sighed. It was better Min knew, than not. I wouldn’t call it irrelevant or meaningless—though I recognized that getting the answer is all but impossible unless the spirit returned—but I knew Moiraine meant well when she spoke.

Min smiled sadly. “Oh sheepherder, you’ve had a hard month haven’t you? Almost dying, getting told you you are the Dragon Reborn, a man that can channel, being bound to an Aes Sedai in marriage. And here I thought staying a month in this blasted room, surrounded by all these Aes Sedai, was bad. Now I just have to marry a boy I don’t know, so he can turn into a monster to fight the Dark One.” She laughed at the absurdity of her situation.

I laughed as well. “It’s like the opposite of a typical story, true love’s kiss turns the prince into a monster, but the Creator was the one who put me on this path. As much as it can seem a cursed month at times, and how the future looms before me, it has actually been good when I think back on it. I cannot deny the benefits of having caring wives, or good teachers,” I said, smiling at Moiraine. “But now I need your help. You are one woman I have to bind, if I wish to live to usher in the Age of Light, and you will be the third if you agree, but there are some downsides—”

“I agree,” Min cut in, voice firm. “I don’t need the whole explanation, sheepherder. I don’t normally move this fast, but the Aes Sedai has yet to call you crazy, so I have to believe. Just tell me what I need to do. Any downside cannot be worse than you being a man that can channel, the Dragon Reborn, or having to share you with five other women rather than just two.”

I was stunned “…why?”

Min pats the bed next to her. “Come, and I’ll tell you a tale.”

I saw next to her, and she scooted close, grinning at my blush, her eyes abruptly bright and teasing. “You already two wives, Rand, and you still blush. Aren’t you a cute one?” She shook her head, turning serious. “Light. Okay. So. I knew an old Illianer woman; once,” she said slowly. “When she was young, her mother arranged a marriage for her with a man she had never even met. They do that down in Illian, sometimes. She said she spent the first five years raging against him, and the next five scheming to make his life miserable without his knowing who was to blame. It was only years later, she said, when he died, that she realized he really had been the love of her life.”

I wasn’t really sure what that had to do with me and I said as much. Moiraine sparkled with amusement, annoyance, and fondness in the bond, as Min explained with the patience of a mother teach her child. “Just because fate has chosen something for you instead of you choosing it for yourself doesn’t mean it has to be bad. Even if it’s something you are sure you would never have chosen in a hundred years. ‘Better ten days of love than years of regretting,’” she quoted.

“I feel a fool for not realizing that.” I moped, half in jest. “That is a wonderful sentiment to have, because I think this is going to be something you never would have chosen, but I’ve found joy and contentment in Moiraine and Egwene that I did not know I would find, and I hope to find it with you as well. With all my wives, really, I hope.”

Min, with a crooked smile, ruffled my red hair, longer than her own. “That is why the Creator made men wives. So you may be foolish and we may correct you, and when you are down, we raise you up. Now, how do we do this? Because I am choosing it, Rand.”

The Binder was in my hand with a simple thought, slightly warm, and the intricately carved and painted dragons that seemed almost alive caught Min’s eye. “What are those creatures? They’re so beautiful… Nevermind, tell me later. After.” She reached out to touch the Binder, and I jerked back.

“Wait, one last thing. This is not a painless process. It will hurt. Not long, but it will hurt.”

“I’m not afraid of a little pain, sheepherder,” Min said, and touched the rod. “Now what do I—”

We froze, eyes caught staring at each other. The flame burned a path down my arm, into the rod and I watched the Binder to see the new dragon fill in. Min’s was a strange mix of serpent and bat, with dark purple skin and a light green underbelly. Her head was that of a hooded snake, with three glowing red eyes and a pair of sweptback horns. There were three orbs of red crystal seemingly grown into her chest and another adorned her tail, a flat almost leaf-shaped tail with the crystal in the center. She had long bat wings with light green patagium, and a single claw where the hands of the Frost Wyvern lay and three-clawed feet made capped her back legs. Her eyes and crystals seemed to shine with a strange light, a purple light. She was called a Psychic Wyvern, whatever that meant. Another winged dragon, a wyvern, this one closer to a serpent like my own. It seems there are different types. Land based simply called dragons, and flying ones called wyverns. I gazed at the other two dragons, visible from my perspective.

Egwene’s Earth Dragon was stout and almost turtle like, with bright green eyes, with no mane or antlers but horns of wood-like bone instead crowned her head. They adorned her back in fins as well 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 dangerous. Lichen and small plants covered her, flowers in beautiful blooming rainbow patterns giving this dragon a beautiful, almost painted feel.

Moiraine’s Ice Wyvern had opalescent 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, drifted from her maw filled with brilliant blue fangs. She was delicate where the Earth Dragon was solid, a creature of ice and air versus one of earth and life.

It lasted far longer for Min than Egwene and Moiraine, and I grew more and more worried, locked in position, only eyes able to move. Min’s eyes bulged, fear and betrayal filling them when a minute had passed and we still were stuck together. It took nearly two minutes by my count, and Moiraine was frightened, moving around us, and muttering to herself, the chill of saidar prickling my skin. When the Binder finally released us we both took deep breaths, before Min cursed up a storm.

“Bloody blasted goat-kissing Rand al’Thor says this will hurt, but it won’t be long. Two flaming minutes is a long bloody time to burn, you Light-blinded fool! Is wool are there is between those ears?”

“It wasn’t my fault! It did not last nearly so long with Egwene and Moiraine!” I protested, a bit in shock and astounded at the language used. I’d never heard a woman speak that way before, only Uno spoke so filthily.

Moiraine experienced her own shock and awe. Her words were barely a whisper, then a shout. “Min, you can channel. You can channel! The Light-blessed fool did it again!” She took three long steps, grabbed my face and kissed me smiling.

Min coughed, and we separated, before she shook her head dismissively. “I cannot. The Brown sister—Verin?—she already determined I could not channel.”

“And she was right. You could not channel, but now you can. It seems Rand has worked a miracle as he bound you, for the spark in you is powerful, nearly as powerful as Egwene’s was. We will have to begin training immediately.”

I couldn’t help laughing. I felt joy in my heart. “Aes Sedai wives indeed. I shall be surrounded by Aes Sedai wives for centuries to come.” I couldn’t help smiling either. It was ridiculous, and a nightmare for most men of the Westlands, something they would run from screaming—Mat was the perfect example—but I was happy. Min could learn to defend herself with a power most lack, and she would live for centuries like us, as a channeler.

Min stared at me, eyes wide. “I can feel your happiness Rand. It bubbles and sparkles, in the back of my mind. How? How is that possible?”

“That is an aspect of the Binding. We bond each other, you bonding me instantly, while I bond you on the third day. No idea why mine has to wait. So now, you will always know how I am doing, where I am, how I am feeling, and I the same for you when it comes in.”

“A bond like a Warder's bond to an Aes Sedai?” Min sounded excited. Tales of the bond between an Aes Sedai and her Warder feature heavily in tales, achieving a near-romantic idealization.

I nodded, then I got a little nervous, thinking of the other aspect of that bond that will have begun working almost instantly. More hesitantly, I spoke, “There are other things about the Binding you should know. I would have wished to tell you before you chose this, but you insisted.”

“Whatever it is, just take a deep breath and tell me, Rand.” Min said. “I chose this. Whatever it is, it cannot be worse than things I’ve seen.”

“Min, this bond we share. It will influence you, to encourage you to care for me, romantically, and makes sure you cannot hurt me, to the point it will stop your limbs from moving. It manipulates your mind. I wanted to tell you before you made the decision, but…” I trailed off, my eyes closed as I waited for her response.

There’s a long beat before Min speaks. “You don't have to be so worried, Rand.” She bumped my shoulder. “I knew I would fall in love with you whether I liked it or not. It was not choice, sharing you is not my choice. None of this is my choice, or your choice either. The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, or so the Aes Sedai like to say. There's certainly no need to beat yourself up. It just means I need to make sure you fall in love with me, sheepherder,” she finished fiercely.

“I do not think that will be much of an issue,” Moiraine said, with warmth in her voice. “Rand becomes fond easily and freely, I have found, even with an Aes Sedai like me. I would hesitate to call it love, for either of us, but in month and a week or so we've been bonded I have found we are fond of each other. Greatly fond.” She gave me a look that practically smoldered and I returned it, feeling the burning of desire from Moiraine, and I suddenly wished we were alone. Which was a completely unfair thought to Min. I shook my head, clearing my mind.

Min let out a disbelieving laugh. “Moiraine Sedai, pardon me if I don’t believe all your words. You hesitate to call it love, and yet you two give each other that kind of look? I haven’t seen any but Green Sisters look at their Warders in such a way, in my month here.”

Moiraine adopted the Aes Sedai calm, smoothing her face, as if she just realized what look she had been giving me, the bond dipping into a freezing pond of calm and serenity. She pulled out her notebook and pencil from the bag she brought. “That is a topic we can discuss at another time, privately, Elmindra. Women’s talk, if you will. I would much rather get an update on what you see around Rand. That matters far more than my heart.”

I took notice as Min frowned at the name, annoyance flashing across her face, but she nodded, “I can tell you, there are some the same and some different. Some that are similar and some that aren’t similar in the least. There’s a lot and its always changing, so I’ll try to catch as much as I can.”

Moiraine sat at the table, pen and paper ready to record, eyes bright, her Aes Sedai calm vanished. She felt curious, and a little excited, intertwined with an underlying anxiety. Anxiety about what, I did not know, but I could taste its sour stench in the bond.

“A sword that isn’t a sword, a golden crown of laurel leaves, Rand pouring water on sand, six strange beasts, some winged and some not, circling a seventh—I recognize our three dragons, and the one from Rand’s tattoo—a hand touching someones chest and lighting their heart on fire, red blood on a black rock, steaming, two men standing side by side, one is Rand and one is not but I cannot tell which.”

Moiraine raised a hand as she finished writing notes for each, before motioning Min to continue.

“I see lightning coming off of him now, and striking him, much more now, and his light against the shadow shines even brighter. A bittern, a flute and drum play while Rand dances, fire dancing with him. Nine moons lay prostrate at Rand's feet. There are also… well, there are six women now you may fall in love with and will fall in love with you in return, not the three I saw in Baerlon. But you all knew that, you knew it was changed. I see your village sweetheart, myself, and El-, I mean, an exceedingly beautiful young woman, with blue eyes like sapphires and red-gold, curly hair, and a heart-shaped face with pouty lips. Moiraine Sedai, and a tall woman, her eyes are blue green—hard eyes like a warrior—and she has dark reddish hair cut short like mine, skin tanner than yours. Last, and least,” Min grinned at her little joke, “a small, delicate woman, dark and petite, almost looking a boy, with large brown eyes, a heart-shaped face and full lips, her head shaved. Seem’s like you have a type, a couple really. Short women, huh, and redheads? Should I dye my hair?”

And there they were. Every woman I would bind, described to me by my newest wife. I ignored the teasing and took the descriptions in, burning them into my memory. Three lovers, two teachers, one enemy. I recognized the red-gold curly hair and bright blue eyes. The Pattern had already woven a meeting with her, Elayne Trakand, Daughter-Heir of Andor. A woman who would be Queen of Andor one day, a woman I met in the gardens of the Palace in Caemlyn. Light, I’m supposed to be King even though I’m just a shepherd in too deep, and I’m fated for actual royalty. My life is a storybook. I shook my head and listened back in.

“And then this last one I see… it flickers, changes. Sometimes its three women surrounding a funeral bier that Rand lies on, his sweetheart, and you and I, now, not the three it was before. Sometimes four or five women, the red-haired girls. And then it changes, and it is six women seated on thrones that circle a seventh with an older Rand sitting tall and proud. It’s always the same six women, the same women who will fall in love with you. I never seen a future flicker, let alone change like that, back and forth. It… scares me as much as it gives me hope, and makes me wonder.”

The only thing that broke the silence was the scratching of Moiraine’s pencil, working furiously. I felt numb. A funeral bier I laid in. Moiraine felt a rising hope in the bond.

“Wait. You… saw I would die. I’m going to die? And you thought it was better to join me, than run far, far away.” I did not understand. Min, the woman whose eyes saw the fate of other, saw I would die, even if it was only a chance. I felt numb, empty. I should be worried, or terrified, or angry or something! But I was stuck in shock, instead.

She sighed and gave me a heavy look. “Rand, I’ve spent some time, ever since I realized people could not see what I saw, trying to fix these things. And yet, I have never changed a one. I had to give up. If the Pattern fated you to… if that must happen, then why should I not find my happiness with you while I can? Why should you not find your happiness while you still can? Baerlon was far too early, of course, and you were raw, over-exposed and I wasn’t ready. I’m still not ready, really, and yet I see you again and one of the first things I notice is your death flickering, changing into a long life. If being who you are, the Dragon Reborn, allows you to buck such a horrid fate, then with my whole heart I am glad you are him.”

Her heartfelt words washed away the numbness, and I brimmed with affection for Min, while Moiraine joined her. “I had hoped that with Egwene being bonded, your fate would change enough that such an end as she saw for you was averted. Even when we were not bonded, I never wished for your death. I clung to the hope brought by the prophecy of the Iridescent Flame, that you would live to usher in an Age of Light, and my heart is happy to see my hopes proven true, Rand. Whoever these women are, whoever the enemy is, you must bind her, Rand. I will NOT see you on that funeral bier. I care for you Rand, Egwene loves you, all these women will love you. Do not let them down.”

I did not stop the tears that came from my eyes. “I do not want to die. I do not want to die, and I will try my best to not disappoint you, Moiraine Sedai. I…I will break the fate.”

She took me into her arms and laid my head against her bosom, a soft chill hand rubbing my head. “I know, my dragon. You will live and in a century we will look back on our fears and worries today with laughter and love in our hearts. I promise you that.”

I laughed at the nickname. It was ridiculous that such a nickname made my heart warm. “How can you sound so sweet, calling me a dragon?”

After a little more sappiness while Min looked away awkwardly, we left Moiraine to complete some Aes Sedai business, while Mina and I got to know each other.

We walked the Novice Halls, headed for the gardens. “I have a friend I’d like you to meet. She should be out in the gardens taking a quick rest, if we move quickly.” Min grinned, a sharp grin. “Boy, will she be pleased to see you, I met her when I heard her asking other Novice’s about you. But on the way to see her, lets trade facts about each other. I’ll start. My mother died when I was born, and my father died in a mining accident, so my three aunts, Jan, Rana, and Miren Farshaw, all seamstresses, raised me.”

“My mother died when I was young, and my father Tam, a former Companion of Illian, was the one left to raise me, but I think I wasn’t actually born to them. I look too much like an Aielman, and some things my father said while he ran a fever…. I am still Rand al’Thor, and my father is Tam al’Thor, regardless of who I was born to.”

Others passed us by, paying us no mind. Some Accepted gave Min a second look, but said nothing when they recognized her distinctive clothing. They must see she can channel now, I thought to myself, a little worried. What happens when an Aes Sedai notices? Min gave a soft hum.

“You are certainly the height, and the coloring, from what I’ve read. I’ve never seen one before, though. My father let me be a tomboy, and none of my aunts, wonderful ladies that they were, could get me to change my habits. I even ran with street children until I was thirteen.”

I held a heavy wooden door to the outside open, for Min and for a woman with an ageless face, where a high-necked dress of gray silk, embroidered with pale white and pink roses. She was taller than Min and completely ignored us, not even glancing at me, though I held my breath until she was beyond hearing. The gardens lay beyond, endless oases of flowers and maintained wilderness, crossed with artificial creeks and ponds, that enclosed a good third of the Tower grounds. Novices in white dresses carefully tended to plants with watering cans and gloves to pull weeds, Accepted, in their white dresses with bands of color, wielding pruning scissors and shovels to replant flowers. The occasional Aes Sedai flitted through, always appearing perfectly calm even if they raced by.

“I played with Egwene, Mat and Perrin, in the Westwood and the Waterwood, growing up. Egwene was our tomboy when she was younger, before Nynaeve got her to act ‘proper’. I can barely remember those days, but Egwene reminds me, and tells me stories. She was quite the hellion when she was younger.”

Min snorted. “That girl, your Wisdom, she was hard as nails. She isn’t traveling with us, is she?” I shook my head. “Good. So, another fact. I tried to be a barmaid, but I couldn’t handle the men. Too handsy and I was too quick to react violently, and I only lasted a month, couldn’t stand the dress. That’s one thing even you won’t be able to get me to do. I won’t wear dresses. Not for you and not for any man,” she finished fiercely. She had stopped in front of me, on the path, putting her hands on her hips and standing tall.

I laughed, much to her annoyance and anger. Before she could berate me I put up a hand and called, “Peace, light Min, peace. I will not put you in a dress, nor do I expect you to wear one. I happen to actually quite like how you dress, if I am to be honest.”

“Well, I don’t wear these clothes for you or any other man. Get that straight, Rand al’Thor, even if it is the only thing you remember about me,” she said, still sharp-tongued with fiery eyes.

“Light, I just said that I liked it. It looks good on you, and that is a simple fact,” I protested.

Min blushed but made to say something before a soft, beautiful, excited voice interrupted us. “Min, did I hear you call this young man Rand al’Thor?” Approaching us was a young woman around Egwene’s age, wearing a white dress slightly marred by dirt stains round the knees, and I recognized her. Her red-gold hair was laying loose around her shoulders and down her back, her bright blue eyes locked on me, and a surprised smile crept across her lips. A shocked expression appeared on my face. Elayne. The Binder appeared in my hand and I quickly stuffed it in a coat pocket. “Light bless me, it is Rand al’Thor! Min, whatever are you doing with him here?”

On instinct I bowed, left and right hands holding my peace-bonded blade behind me, with arms held straight, taking my time to choose my words carefully “Daughter-Heir Elayne, it is an honor for a simple shepherd to be remembered by the future queen of Andor.”

“Oh none of that, call me Elayne,” she said, smiling. “If Sheriam Sedai heard you calling me that, I would not be able to…” she trailed off, cheeks blushing as she realized what she was about to say. “Well, suffice to say, it would not be pleasant. Now, what are you doing here? This is completely unexpected.”

Before I could think up a reasonable lie, Min spoke. “Moiraine Sedai has arrived, finally, and Rand here is to keep me company while she finishes Aes Sedai business. Since you speak of him so much, this shepherd of yours, I thought to have him accompany me on a walk about the gardens to see if we could not find you.” Elayne gave a squeak of protest, glancing at me nervously. Seeing her so flustered calmed me, after the surprise of seeing another of my wives appear in front of me. I smiled at Elayne and her face flushed prettily. I am a lucky man.

Elayne waved her arms in denial. “Honestly, I do not speak of him so much, I just…” She turned to me, a pleading look on her face. “I just have never met a man from the Two Rivers, and you were so… different from other Andorans.” She nodded, calmer and firm. “That’s it. You were different, and I merely idly wished to meet you again.” Min snorted and Elayne glared at her, eyebrow arched. “Min was certainly not quiet about you either, if you must know! She called you all sorts of names, names I would never call you.”

I laughed, enjoying the simple play between the two young women. “I already heard a few today. I’ve thought about you as well, if it makes you feel better, Elayne.” She nodded, hesitantly. “I never expected to meet either of you again, and now you’re both here. The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, Moiraine always says, and I suspect we will see each other again before too many years pass.”

“Oh truly, do you? Not that I wish to, of course, but it would be nice to see you, and…” Elayne sputters, her ears turning red. “I mean I do wish to see you again, of course. I don’t not want to.” Min giggled at Elayne, and I couldn’t help my snort at the poor redhead’s fumbling tongue, much to her horror. “I mean, It’s just, what um what are you doing traveling with an Aes Sedai?” she finally squeaks out.

“In exchange for healing my father, Moiraine Sedai took me from the Two Rivers. I travel with her now, and train under her Warder. We were in Shienar recently. I was waiting for her in Caemlyn, as we got separated.”

“A Two Rivers shepherd, who wears a heron-mark blade, travels with Aes Sedai and trains under a Warder. You are certainly strange.” A brief pause, before mortification comes over Elayne. “Not that you being strange is bad, it is what caught my eye! Oh Light, forgive me, Rand. I do not mean to insult an honest Andoran.”

“There is no need to fret, Elayne,” I said with a soft smile. “You are right, I am strange and so is my life. Stranger than you know right now. My… friend, Egwene al’Vere, she will join you as a Novice of the White Tower soon enough. Can I ask you to take care of her?”

“Of course, of course, Rand. Any friend of yours is sure to be a friend of mine.” A wash of realization came over her. “But oh, stupid Elayne. I’ve forgotten the most important thing. Rand, you cannot be here. If Eladia Sedai sees you… I do not know why she is so certain you are dangerous, as you seem a nice young man to me. I dread what she would do if she saw you with me.” Worry filled her voice, and a look of fear marred her lovely face.

I stiffened. Eladia, the Aes Sedai advisor to the Queen of Andor and Sister of the Red Ajah, the Aes Sedai that hunt men who can channel. Even if she did not know who I was, she was certain I was dangerous, after having a Foretelling about me. Pain and division come to the whole world, and I stand at the heart of it. Any Red Sister was dangerous, who knew what secret weaves the Reds have, to track down male channelers and gentle them. I realized I had stepped one foot into a bear-trap, and was mindlessly waiting for it to close around my leg.

A bell rang early afternoon, and Elayne started, a look of horror overcoming her. She spoke rapidly. “I must go, I am already late, I will speak with you both again, but Rand, please, please, please be careful.” She darted forward and wrapped Min in a hug. “I will see you later, Min,” she said, before sprinting off, lifting her dress and pounding her feet down the path towards the Tower, hair streaming like a banner.

“I’m leaving with Moiraine Sedai,” Min called out and Elayne merely waved without turning around. Min turned to me. “Light, I hope she actually heard me. Elayne can be a bit scatter-brained at times, but don’t tell her I said that. Gosh was she cute around you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Asking me to keep secrets from my future wife, are you? That’ll cost you.”

Min looked surprised, then pouted, and punched my arm. “It’s no fun if you know already. I was planning on telling you when the ship left.” Min sighed. “You seemed mighty calm meeting her, if you knew who she was to you.”

I started walking again, taking us farther away from the Tower and keeping an eye out of any red clothing. “She was the nervous one, made it easy to be the calm one. She is cute, I hope her and Egwene become friends.”

We had made our way through some more of the gardens, passed a small grove of blossoming apple trees, and a memorial garden to a Sinadrin Sedai that was filled with unfamiliar yellow flowers, and stopped in the middle of a bridge over a small creek. Min turned to me with a serious look.

“So, Rand. Can I ask you a serious question?” I nodded. “What do you truly think of all this, the binding and the wives? We are away from Moiraine Sedai so she cannot punish you for speaking your mind,” she said, finishing the earnest question with a bit of teasing.

I wanted to give this some thought, so I stood there looking over the babbling brook and considered my position for a minute or two. “I am lucky, first and foremost. To have so many beautiful women fated for me is certainly lucky, to have that much love concentrated on a single person, I am luckier than any man. I am also cursed. Like every gift given to me by that spirit, the fate has its downsides. The bond forces—or encourages if you’re polite like Moiraine, and if you want to believe Egwene, it nurtures—love towards me with no guarantee I love them back. That feels wrong to me, but I won’t bother you with whining about fake love. Both Moiraine and Egwene have spoken of living a long life after the Last Battle, full of children and true love gained on the journey, and I want that. I don’t want my life to just be the frantic years of battling the Shadow before the Last Battle.”

I turned around, leaning against the railing as I gave her a tired grin, saying “I can honestly admit that I like the idea of multiple women loving me, but I have absolutely no idea how to actually handle six, one of them my enemy, so I need help. I don’t know what to think about the idea of my loves being woven into the Pattern of the Age, being chosen for me. It seems a lot of things were chosen for me, even before I was born, and all I can do is simply try to enjoy the journey the Wheel weaves before me, and change what I cannot stand. I don’t love you, or even know you well, but I want you by my side, to learn to know you, and learn to love you and you love me in return. To protect you from those who would take you from me, or hurt you, and have you protect me back. That’s how I feel, Min. That’s what I want, when we get down to the core of it. I want companions in love by my side, as I face the world and all its tribulations. I don’t think I could do it otherwise, face the Shadow and the Last Battle alone.”

Her smile grew as I spoke, and her hand slipped into mine, squeezing me tight. “That was… far more mature than I expected, but you have been surprising me today, Rand. I expected you to run screaming from me, or to fight tooth and nail. When I saw you last you were stubborn and hardheaded like the roots of an old trees exposed by a winter storm, wary and paranoid, not this young man who listens to and loves an Aes Sedai.” I made a token protest that she ignored. “I thought I would have to work much harder to catch you but you seem to have let yourself be caught. Easier for me, but maybe less fun.” She teased. “Now the only problem is I have to share you. With Elayne, that would be fine, but five others? You’re a lucky man, Rand al’Thor, and you’d be a slack-jawed, wool-brained fool to mess it up. Got it?”

I frowned. “Why does everyone expect me to try and fight the inevitable? Min, when I came back to reality with my faded, tattered memories and the knowledge of who I was, I knew I had to rely on Moiraine. There was no other way. I’m not an idiot, I knew I knew nothing, even less than the farmboy I had been. And I would wish people would stop considering what leash she has on me, and think on the leash I have on her. Moiraine did not act like a silly girl in love before the bond. I had thought… before I had thought it a ruse, when I did not know of how the binding worked, but now it is obvious to me. Not that it will do the same to you, change you so drastically, unless you fight it, or so Moiraine claims.”

“She fought it? Of course, she fought it. She is an Aes Sedai, and Aes Sedai love control.”

I nodded. “She realized what it was doing to her and tried to fight it. Only made the binding tighter, she claims, more insidious. Half of me, more than half, finds it awful, what it does to you all, and the other part, a colder part, thinks it is surely a gift from the Creator, to be protected by such a defense. If you knew what she wanted to do…”

Min looked confused. “Defense? What she wanted to do?”

I blanched. I had run my mouth. “Nevermind. Ignore that. It is something I forgave her for, I should not have brought it up,” I said hastily, regretting the topic immediately. Min merely stared, her eyes boring into mine. “The bond… it is a defense mechanism, Moiraine believes. It protects me, prevents any of my wives from hurting me.”

Min caught on instantly and sounded alarmed. “She tried to attack you?! Rand that is not okay, even if you have some kind of power that makes her fall in love with you. What did she do to you?”

“She did nothing, she couldn’t. We talked it out and everything is fine now, Min. I really don’t wish to speak of it. I’d rather put it behind me.”

Min stared for a while, arms across her chest, eyebrow arched, foot tapping but I did not give in.

As if speaking of her made her appear, Moiraine Sedai walked out of a covered awning and made her way over to us, an extra bag that seemed quite stuffed. I let go of Min’s hand and jogged over to grab the bag, fitting the strap over my shoulder. Behind me, Min gave Moiraine a frown.

“Thank you, Rand,” Moiraine said with a cool smile as I took the bag. “It is past time we left, but we must risk much if we are to succeed. I pray you two had a productive talk?”

“Oh, very,” Min said with a smile that looked slightly… put on, taking her place on the other side of me. I grimaced. Hopefully, I hadn’t turned another of my wives against Moiraine Sedai.

We were making our way back out of the Tower grounds through the vast gardens, passing by flowering bush and bubbling fountains, when we met a morose-looking man with a dark complexion sat lonely on a bench, staring at the sky. He took one glance at us and burst out into mad laughter, slapping his hand on his knee. The noise brought a young-looking woman, short and stout with braided blonde hair and a sharp nose, wearing the white dress banded in the colors of the seven Ajahs—Blue, Green, Yellow, Red, White, Gray and Brown—signifying she was an Accepted, a step above Novices, but below the Aes Sedai.

I stood, frozen in shock, as I recognized the laughter and the man, Logain the False Dragon. Min jerked my hand forward as Moiraine moved swiftly to speak in quiet, commanding tones to the young Accepted as Logain’s sharp brown eyes followed us. “You’re him,” he called out to me, smiling a too wide smile, cheeks twitching. “I saw you, in Caemlyn, sitting up on that wall, and I knew.” His voice followed us even as we left Moiraine behind, Min having not stopped pulling me onwards. Logain shouted from behind me, “Go and shake the world, ta’veren, shake it till it all falls on our heads!” His barking laughter filled the air, maddened and manic, and the words, reminiscent of the song I dreamed of just this morning, sent shivers down my spine. We swiftly exited the gardens, heading the main entrance and exit of the White Tower, the gated wall that separates Tar Valon from the grounds.

Min spoke quietly, as she gripped my hand tightly. “That was Logain, the False Dragon. They gentled him and since then he’s been meek as a lamb. I’ve spoken to him a few times. He seemed a sad man, quiet and lost.” She shuddered. “That laugh…”

“He is mad,” I said. He could not know I am Dragon Reborn, but somehow he knew I was ta’veren. “He must be like the Amyrlin Seat. She can see ta’veren. He is simply a sad madman with a strange Talent.”

“He said he saw you…”

“I remember seeing him, in Caemlyn. He laughed the same. That is three people today I’ve met that I actually remember.”

Min was quiet.

Moiraine caught up with us not too soon after, as we had stood near the gate for nearly ten minutes. The guards unwilling to let a young woman leave without permission, especially with a man dressed like me. For all they knew, I was stealing away a Novice, and no amount of protestation moved them. Upon seeing Moiraine’s ageless face the gate guards simply let us out without another word, all bars to egress lifted.

We made our way back through perfect marble squares with grand fountains, past buildings shaped like great trees and flames, stormy clouds and stampeding horses, low hills and craggy mountaintops. I let my gaze drift from each new wonder to the next, though we walked the same path as this morning when we entered the city. We must have passed a dozen sisters but none gave us a second glance, seemingly content to let Moiraine Sedai do as she wished with a girl that should have been in Novice white. It was the middle of the afternoon by the time we returned to the Seamaid’s Kiss, having stopped for lunch in a tavern that served trenchers of soft white bread with a hard crust, loaded with beef simmered with peppers and dipped in a bowl of gravy made from the drippings. It was a delicious meal, flavorful and filling, but we didn’t speak much, Moiraine putting off any of Min’s questions and I content to people watch.

“What now, Moiraine Sedai?” Min asked, as we boarded the ship. Sailors on deck avoided us with ease as they went about their tasks, seeing the water and foodstuffs restocked, and a small amount of cargo taken aboard to make some kind of profit in Illian. I could smell the heady scent of peppers, pickled in vinegar, coming from a barrel nearby.

“You must train your ability, as quickly, but safely as possible, child. Go below deck, Verin Sedai has the second cabin on the left. She should be available to teach you, and I will be join you as soon as I am able. Lord Drake and I must see to what I have gained.”

“I have a name, you know, and it is Min. Not girl, not Elmindra, not child. I would appreciate you using it,” Min said resolutely, staring right at Moiraine.

Moiraine gave a dismissive huff. “I am an Aes Sedai, child, and you are a girl who has yet to touch the True Source. Until I train you enough to make sure you do not wind up hurting yourself or others in your fumbling, you are like a child with a knife or flame.”

“Or you could call her by her name, Moiraine Sedai,” I said, annoyed that this was even an issue. “You are both to be my wives. Should you not respect each other? I let it go with Egwene, because she was to be an Aes Sedai and must learn their discipline. I don’t think I can let it go again.”

Moiraine became both annoyed and resigned, her mouth set in a twist. “Is that a command, Lord Drake?”

“Do I command you, Moiraine Sedai?” I questioned. “I thought we were trying to be partners, as much as you keep your various secrets still. I am asking you to call Min by her name. I cannot imagine calling her a child is actually a useful aspect of training, so I feel it is not an unreasonable request.”

“Will Verin Sedai also have to abide by such restrictions?” she asked with an arch of her eyebrow.

“Verin Sedai is not my wife,” I replied.

Min put a hand on my arm. “Thank you Rand, but I can handle my fellow…” She blushed, but continued, “My fellow wife. While your male overprotectiveness is heart-warming, it is not needed. If I am to be a child because I do not know enough, then I simply have to learn.” And with that Min held her head high as she turned to walk down the steps below deck, before she turned right back around, embarrassed, and asked, “Moiraine Sedai, which cabin is Verin Sedai’s?”

Minutes later, back in our cabin, Moiraine had me carefully set the bag on the table. As it turned out, Moiraine had stolen a half a dozen suspected male angreal, and a couple female ones as well. She laid out the male ones on our table very gently, wrapped in a cloth. “I am sure to be stripped of my shawl when the Hall finally finds out what I’ve taken, but getting your and your wives angreal matter more. I will be stripped of it anyways, when they learn I bonded the Dragon Reborn without telling the White Tower. It will cause Siuan no end of trouble, but the world matters more than Tower politics.”

“Are you sure that was the smartest choice, Moiraine? Couldn’t you have been caught?”

“I could have, but rarely does anyone visit the repository of angreal, and with my writ in the Amyrlin’s name, the guards barely glanced at it before letting me in. It was easy. Too easy. I’m sure sisters of mine have been taking angreal out without permission for years.”

I frowned. “If you say so. Could you not have warned me what you were doing, though? You just said you had ‘business’, but I do not think its unreasonable for me to know what that business is.”

Moiraine did not flush, though it was a near thing. “I am sorry, I am used to keeping secrets, even from my Warders.”

“Maybe you should change that habit. I’m sure Lan would not mind. Did you know Eladia was looking for me?”

Moiraine laughed. “Lan Gaidin is content to leave me to my secrets, and fight my battles for me.”

“Well, maybe I’m not like Lan Gaidin, Moiraine,” I said, getting a little annoyed.

“No, you aren’t.” She smiled, shaking her head, the crystal on a golden chain, her kesiera, refracting the afternoon sunlight. “You’re nothing like him and I should have told you my plans. Yes, I know Eladia is looking for you, I’m unsure how you learned, though. I will try to do better in the future, but can we please focus on the treasure trove I stole for you?”

I let it go, and examined the angreal.

Six figurines and shapes sat on the table. The first was a long sword hilt without a blade, the guard a series of thin gold wire woven into a curved screen to protect the hand. Gems in the shapes of flames, and waves, of clouds and mountains, and a white heart, decorated the hilt. I ran the Seeing Eye weave over it, a grid composed of threads of every Element that identified what the angreal was, the information flowing into my mind: a sport-grade Elemental Blade, which has lacked an owner for years beyond reckoning. I knew, somehow, that channeling into the gems with their respective Element would activate the ter’angreal, turning it from an empty hilt to a functioning sword with a blade composed of the Element. It was surprisingly easy to glean information from it.

It seemed extremely cool, and exactly the thing a hero in a story would find, an ancient blade formed from the Elements. I already had one magic sword, and now I would have two. Could Lan could teach me to wield two blades, I wondered.

The second was the figurine of a strange lion made of bronze with two long fangs of milky pale pink crystal coming out of its mouth. I identified it as a civilian-grade Personal Saidin Angreal—giving +4 to the rank of the owner on the Jordanian Scale—with the ability to record audio and play it loudly from the lion’s mouth. It had also lacked an owner for a recorded 2,998 years, and when my weave touched it, it seemed to almost eagerly latch on to the flow of saidin, registering me as the owner with my barest thought of acceptance.

I held back from getting up and pocketing the lion, but only barely. I did not tell Moiraine it had made me its owner, since she was content to not let me know she was stealing it, or that Eladia was looking for me. Plus, I did not wish to touch it just yet. I’ve never even gone all out before, so I definitely don’t need an angreal yet, I thought.

The third was civilian Saidin Angreal, which gave a +2 to rank on the Jordanian Scale and an increased connection with Air, this one last owned a surprisingly recent 1,190 years ago. It was shaped like a robed laughing man, skinny and bald with an arrow on his head. It did not have the same eagerness to be owned the way the toothy lion did, and when it offered ownership I declined.

The fourth was a large pipe, with a long curved stem like Thom smoked, the symbol of the Aes Sedai emblazoned on either side of it, the black portion, the Dragon’s Fang, raised and textured with small bumps. It was a Bubbler, I learned. A ter’angreal used to smoke herbs, with a thread of Water and Fire on each side where the Dragon’s Fang lay. Moiraine was disappointed it turned out to be so simple, while I thought it was neat that ancient Aes Sedai made simple things like pipes.

The fifth was a pyramid covered in thin spikes, with an almost gray-green color, streaks and globs of pure glittering white scattered randomly. It was called a Dream Warden. If you channeled Spirit into it before you slept, it would protect your dreams from hostile intent… somehow. I needed it desperately, as did Perrin and Mat. Perhaps…

The last was a black belt of scaled leather, worked with intricate silver designs of interlocking squares. It was the most important, a Saidin Well. Wells were ter’angreal that held channeled One Power for use later on without channeling the One Power. Moiraine was so excited she almost let me begin channeling into it, to fill it up.

“This is a treasure trove, Rand. Every single angreal I chose is useful in some way. The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, and it will us well, it seems. That should make me happy, but only makes me worried, though. What foes lie ahead of us that require such tools? We will have to wait to test the blade until we have stopped at Jurene or another small river village or I will simply claim to wish to walk about. That should be reason enough for us to stop. A loyal captain will not deny an Aes Sedai, no matter how foolish their desire.” She gave me a look then, serious and stern. “We will take the angreal and test them, make sure they work correctly far away from the ship. They are dangerous, these objects of Power, before you learn to use them. I will not risk the boat with untested angreal. Who knows what kind of damage that Elemental Blade ter’angreal could do, and you certainly don’t need an angreal while training, you are powerful enough as is.”

“I did not even express a single wish,” I complained, offended by her shutting me down preemptively.

Moiraine stared as if I was a fool. “Rand, I can feel your emotions.”

“Fine. I won’t use them, not any of them before our little excursion.” I sighed. “I miss channeling.”

“Soon enough, we’ll be far enough away to take one day a week to go ashore and train, Rand. For now, though, let us finish the first volume of The First & Last High King while you practice juggling torchlights.” Moiraine took the book from the small pile she had brought with her from Fal Dara, and then daintily sat on the bed. I took the chair, calming my mind and seeking the Oneness, to help memorize the words spoken and to help seize saidin.

“‘In the year 942 of the Gazaran Calendar, King Artur Paendrag Tanreall led an expeditionary force against the False Dragon Guaire Amalasan, composed soldiers of the eastern nations of Tova, Ileande, Khodomar and Talmour…’”

Chapter Text

Amadine 14, 998 NE (June 21st)

I think Perrin and Mat were not sure what to make of Min, her clothes or her attitude. She did not cling to me, at least not physically like Egwene would and Moiraine sometimes did, but whatever time not spent with Moiraine, or Verin, and the One Power, she spent with me, often teasing or joking.

If I trained, she sat and watched me train, sometimes reading a book Verin lent her, and sometimes Loial joined her as they spoke quietly, having become fast friends in the last three days. If I was learning, she learned beside me when she could, and added what she knew on the topic, often causing Verin to go off-topic for minutes at a time. If I was resting, reading, she sat beside me, sometimes quietly as my mood warranted, sometimes asking questions about what I read. And of course, the few times I played the flute on the deck for the sailors, to get a tune out of my head or to practice, and when I sang for Moiraine in our cabin, she was there, listening. There was a certain… ease with which she inserted herself into my day-to-day life that would be almost terrifying, if it hadn’t soothed the ache of Egwene. Min was easier to talk with than Moiraine, more playful, her grins far easier to handle than Aes Sedai calm.

Away from the women, alone at the prow of the boat as we took a brief break from training for breakfast—cured pork, hot biscuits and fresh fruit taken on at Tar Valon—Mat asked me bluntly, “So, it's been a few days. How is it, you know? Two of them? At least Min isn’t an Aes Sedai yet.”

Perrin looked over his shoulder to make sure Min and Moiraine had not heard. Moiraine stood by Lan's side, with her own plate, using saidar to cut and serve the food to her, a blatant use of the One Power, as she spoke quietly with Lan, the Warder wearing his eye-searing cloak that seemed to blend into the background, twisted into nauseating patterns by the wind. Min was over by Loial, as these last few days she left me to my friends or Moiraine for the meals, giving me some time alone. He would never have voiced it were either woman near. My ears heated involuntarily, but I kept my face mostly calm.

“I already had two wives, Mat, in Fal Dara,” I said, unable to keep annoyance out of my voice.

“Yeah but one was Egwene and I don't want to know anything more about that. That's like hearing about my sister,” Mat grumbled, as he shivered.

“And you want to dig into an Aes Sedai's love life for what reason?” I questioned, a little incredulous.

Mat leaned back on one hand, and said with a smile,“Light, I was just making sure my friend has a healthy marriage. That's all.”

Perrin snorted, as he dug into his food. I frowned.

“I am quite happy with my private relationship with my two wives, one of whom I've known for three days. What does a healthy marriage even mean?”

Mat's voice dropped to barely a whisper, and he leaned close. “You know, the goose and the gander.” At my blank stare he went on. “Tam surely taught you about the relations between man and woman.”

I recoiled, face red. “Burn me, is this something we actually used to talk about?” I asked Perrin desperately. Light, it was not a topic I wanted discuss with friends.

Perrin cringed and muttered, “He would talk about girls and his ‘conquests’ too much until you’d gross him out to stop by making things up about Egwene. He would stop for a couple weeks. It kind of became a thing you did once a season. I hated it.”

What the fuck, past me? I thought angrily. “Okay, that tradition stops now. All I can tell you is that I am genuinely happy, Mat. That's all. I don’t feel the need to brag about my ‘conquests’, and I certainly won’t betray Moiraine and Min’s trust that way, even if apparently I betrayed Egwene already.”

Mat frowned back at me, annoyed, and made to reply but Perrin interrupted him.

“Thank the Light,” Perrin said loudly. Some Shienarans turned to stare and Perrin flushed. Quieter, he said, “I definitely do not need to think of Moiraine Sedai that way.”

“An Aes Sedai wife. Cannot think of a worse way to go, except maybe an Aiel wife. At least the Aes Sedai won't kill you in bed if you disappoint her.” Mat laughed at his own joke.

I laughed at how accurate he was. “You don't know, but Min said one of my wives is to be an Aiel woman, with the look of a warrior. I have to hope I never get her angry. Light, what is my life?”

Mat shivered again, shaking his head. “Burn me, Rand. I truly do not envy you. Aes Sedai and Aiel wives. It’s enough to put a right-thinking man off marriage entirely.”

“Are you certain, Rand?” Perrin asked, worried. “The soldiers, when they talk about the Aiel War, said the women warriors, their Maidens, fought like wildcats, and were as deadly and dangerous as the men. If one is to be your wife…” He trailed off.

I smiled crookedly. “She looks like she could be my cousin, apparently, same skin and hair, her eyes blue-green rather than blue-gray. Since I’m probably Aiel…”

“Knowing your luck, you’ll turn out to be some kind of Aiel lord too,” Mat said, with a crooked smile of his own. “And this warrior wife will be your lady. Burn me, Rand. I think I must have all the luck of us three ta’veren, because you certainly have little to none.”

“This Aiel woman, she is to be my wife, and when we meet, you’ll need to treat her with respect. If she’s anything like my other wives, she will be strong in the One Power and it would not be wise to anger her.”

Perrin looked nervously between us. “Surely the three of us would be enough to fend her off, should Mat upset her too badly?” he asked seriously.

Mat laughed. “The day Rand gains an Aiel wife is the day I leave. That's when things have officially gotten too bizarre for Mat Cauthon. Maybe I’ll go to Tear, if you haven’t conquered it yet, or back north to Caemlyn, see if it jogs my memory. Maybe home, for a little bit at least.”

“I cannot imagine how I will get an Aiel wife, except to hope it will be many years in the future, once I am sure how to be a husband.”

Mat waggled his eyebrows. “I bet Moiraine Sedai has plenty for you to learn that Egwene never knew, a beautiful woman full of wisdom like her.” Mat grin was lascivious. “Has she used her mou—”

Lan stood suddenly amongst us, his ever-changing cloak twisting and turning in the wind in eye-searing patterns of color, with a hand on Mat’s shoulder. Mat looked up, startled. “That is enough talk about scales and his wives. Be glad Moiraine Sedai could not hear you, or you would not be able sit down straight.”

Mat blanched, and muttered under his breath, “Bloody Warder ears.”

Lan continued, staring down at Mat all the while. “It appears I have to work you harder, farmboy, if such questions about an Aes Sedai are liable to leave your mouth. Breakfast is over.”

During our late lunch today a brief sensation of not-quite burning had me gazing at my forearm, where another heraldic shield lay above my dragon tattoo—this one white with a stylized purple eye as the symbol. I could feel a third knot in the back of my mind, like a warm spring breeze, where Min lay. Egwene was to the north, a strong sense of feeling overwhelmed came from her, Min was relaxed and amused, talking with Loial about some book on travel as they ate, and Moiraine content beside me. I let down the weight that I did not know I had been holding up, and leaned against Moiraine, who accepted it with good grace, sliding an arm around my waist. The energy beneath my skin began to pulse like a heartbeat and did not stop. “And then there were three,” I said, smiling.

“The bond has come in?” she murmured.

“Mmhmm. You are content, Min’s relaxed, Egwene is overwhelmed. Makes me wish I could be there for her, or that she could have come with us.”

“The first few days as a Novice are always the worst. That and the first weeks of an Accepted’s life. She is a hard-working girl, familiar with dirty work, and will make her way through the Novice curriculum with record speed. You need not worry, it will not be too many years before she will be by our side again.”

I guess to Aes Sedai, who measure their lives in centuries, a few years is nothing long. But I wasn’t an Aes Sedai, nor was I used to the idea that I would live for centuries yet, as the only male channeler besides the Forsaken able to stay sane, despite the Taint on saidin.

“And once she learns to open a Door and travel through Darkspace, you will see each other again, is that not true?” she added when I did not reply.

“We plan to try to meet at my father’s farm the first day of every week, as the sun sets… Speaking of which, could we anchor the ship and go visit my father this afternoon? He should meet you and Min, and Mat and Perrin deserve to know they can visit home in secret.” At the mention of my father, Moiraine grew somewhat uncomfortable, and stiffened at the idea of Mat and Perrin joining. I was confused, then realized. Why would she want Mat and Perrin there when she met my father for the first time as my wife? Especially if he has some things to say about what we discussed last time. “Well, Mat and Perrin can wait. But I would like to see my father again. Maybe we can train too?”

“That is… better, Rand. Let me speak with the captain, while you inform Min.” She stood rather and draped herself in Aes Sedai calm.

“Moiraine, you don’t need to be nervous.”

She gave me a look that made me feel like I was an ignorant fool and started walking. I shook my head and let out a sigh before heading over to where she sat with Loial. If Moiraine did not wish to explain her troubles then I would pay them no heed, for now. She surely did not wish me chasing after her, or begging explanation. Perhaps I’ll figure it out and please her that way. I huffed, doubting that possibility.

I made my way over to Min and Loial, who called out to me.

“Rand, come, sit with us! I was just speaking with Min on Aldrec Laeyemar’s journal of his expedition in the Drowned Lands to find the sunken city of Carlagien’a’estuhatavende, the Metropolis of Ten Thousand Trees from the Age of Legends. It is said to have been lost in the early years after the Breaking, as the Drowned Lands formed. He did not find it, of course, but it really is quite interesting the variety of life that has adapted to the permanently brackish swamps and bogs that surround the peninsula of Mayene. Here,” he said, showing me a page of the leather-bound volume containing a drawing of a hairy, strangely human-like beast that stared from the page with limpid eyes. “These are orangael, great beasts with fur the color of fire, that walk like men and chatter to each other in hoots and howls. Aldrec wrote he caught them fishing with woven nets of reeds and vines. Is that not astounding? I should like to see these orangael in the wild, using tools like men and Ogier, wouldn’t you?”

Min giggled at my baffled look. I spoke a little hesitantly. “That.. that is interesting, of course, Loial. But I need to speak with Min about this afternoon. Lend me the book once your finished, and we can dream about making our own expedition when I inevitably visit Mayene.”

Loial’s eyes brightened and his wide smile cut his face nearly in two, his eyebrows jiggling and the tufts of his ears standing straight. “Yes, Rand, oh yes. I’ll have to make a plan of course and consult some maps once we reach Illian. We’ll have to use swamp donkeys if we want to make it anywhere with any sort of time, according to Aldrec’s account, but that was disputed by Lord Faultin who favored Tairen steeds…” I stared, amused at the Ogier’s antics, as he worked himself up. After another minute he stopped himself suddenly embarrassed, ears drooping. “I’m sorry Rand, you don’t wish to hear me blather on, but speak to your uh…” He blushed, and dropped his voice to the buzz of a bee the size of a large hound. “Your third wife.” Loial shook his great, shaggy head, muttering slightly quieter, “Six wives, I don’t know how you do it without running away. If I returned to the stedding now, my mother would surely lock me up tight with a new wife that would not allow me outside for the next two centuries, until I had hairs of gray in my beard.”

As always when Loial spoke, those nearby could not help but listen. Ingtar choked on his flatbread, while others stared bug-eyed at me as I did not deny the Ogier’s claims. I sighed and gave a hand to Min to pull her up.

“Let’s go to the cabin, and talk, Min. We’re going to be stopping for the afternoon, and taking a picnic.”

As I headed down below deck I could hear Ingtar speak up. “Honored Builder, I could not help but overhear you. Did you claim Lady Min as Rand’s third wife, of six?”

“Well now, that would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it?” Loial offered, unconvincingly.

Min giggled, before offering me an innocent smile as we entered the cabin. “I like Loial, he’s a very nice young Ogier. I had not thought someone of his size to be so well read. And he’s quite charming in his own way.”

I nodded with agreement. “I thought him a Trolloc when I first saw him but he is just about the farthest thing from one. Just a big, lovable bookworm. I wish I had more time for him. I wish I had more time for everything,” I ended with a frown.

We sat on the bed, Min close but not too close. We had yet to do much more than hug, and she didn’t seem to want to cuddle yet, unlike Moiraine and Egwene who wanted it as soon as possible. “He told me he’s taking notes for a book. A book about you, sheepherder.”

“Yes, the true story of my journey as Dragon Reborn. Verin Sedai claims she is here to do the same thing.”

We sat on the bed, Min close beside me. She frowned at my phrasing. “Claims?” she said questioningly.

“This is a secret only for our little family. Not even Perrin or Mat know. Any Aes Sedai that is not Moiraine could be Black Ajah. Even the muddle-brained Brown Sister who’s just a little too curious. I don’t want to suspect her, but I do anyway. To do otherwise would be foolish,” I said, regretfully. I liked Verin Sedai, for all her quirks. To think she would work against me…

Min shuddered, face pale. “Light Rand… I’m not sure I like this journey we’re going on anymore. Forsaken, shadowspawn, Black Ajah. The worst parts of the tale and all out to get you. How do you handle it?”

“That is why I wanted to take a break. We’re going to go visit my father.”

“…what kind of miracle can you work to get you from a ship on the River Erinin to the Two Rivers and back?” Min asked, warily.

“I can open a Door to another place that lets us travel much faster. It took me over an hour to travel from outside Fal Dara, to the Two Rivers. But only over an hour.”

“How?” Min asked, astounded.

I shrugged, still unsure what exactly the Door did or even what Darkspace was. “It’s the One Power. I don’t really know how, except somehow I’m tearing a hole in the world with Fire and Spirit,” I said, sheepishly. “Don’t try it, though, as it is different for women. Moiraine will be able to teach you when you are ready,” I warned.

“Blood and ashes, sheepherder. It’s like every day you reveal something crazy about Creation I never knew. Doors to the other side of the world and Black Ajah lurking as absent-minded women. Light.” She shook her head, then stood up. “I’m going to change into something a little nicer, if I am to meet your father, Rand.” Then she gave me an expectant look. With only a bit of reluctance, I left the room.

After about ten minutes the door opened, and Min called out, “You can come in again. Better see your Aes Sedai’s handiwork. She had these clothes made for me, somehow had the designs delivered the White Tower sometime last month.” I looked upon her as I walked into the room, quite pleased with Moiraine’s choices. She wore a much more feminine cut coat, forest green and embroidered with red songbirds, with a silk shirt underneath whose neck dipped down to reveal the top of Min’s cleavage, and snug brown breeches that emphasized her curves rather than trying to hide them like her other clothes usually attempted. She tucked her breeches into heeled brown boots that raised her height two or three inches, making her around 5’8, and a simple silver chain encircled her neck. She twirled, flaring her coat and faced away from me, looking over her shoulder, displaying the… ample curves contained by her breeches.

“You look beautiful, Min, truly,” I managed to get out, my mouth suddenly dry and my eyes not able to look away. If it had been Egwene, or even Moiraine, I would just have to reach out and…

She scowled and her voice sounded annoyed, but she felt pleased in the bond. “My eyes are up here, Rand al’Thor.” I managed to tear my gaze away, and land on her blushing face that tried to look disapproving before melting into a grin.

“So you like it, sheepherder? Good, because I like them too. Just don’t stare too much, and we’ll be okay. Got it?” Min gave me a wide, teasing grin, feeling pleased and confident in the bond, as she turned to face me finally.

I nodded roughly. “Got it.” Still, I took her in once more, feeling no small amount of wonder at the work Moiraine’s designs could do to bring out even more beauty, or in my case handsomeness. “Moiraine did a good job. You look amazing, Min, truly. I’m going to change into nicer clothing, too,” I announced, and she nodded before sitting down on the bed. She did not make a move to get up and leave, a defiant stare in her eyes begging me to try and kick her out. I sighed and shook my head, smiling slightly. As awkward as it was to change in front of someone new, I had already done it every morning to sleepy eyes this last month and change.

I’ve found, in my short time of marriage, that wives like to stare at their husband getting dressed just as much as I loved to stare at my wives as they dressed when I got the chance; Egwene would be pink cheek and proud as she watched me, Moiraine calmed-faced with cool eyes, but pleased in the bond. There Min sat, lounging like a cat, a libidinous grin on her lips as she watched me. I chose the red coat with the dragons spiraling down the arms, a white silk shirt embroidered with golden herons and silver swords around the hem and black trousers embroidered with red thorns on the side seams. I stripped naked, my body feeling on display but I pushed passed it, like I had early on with Moiraine and to a lesser extent Egwene. If a woman wants to look, I will let her look, so long as we are bound.

Soon enough Min was up, and close to me, making sure my shirt fit while she ran a hand over my stomach, feeling my muscles while I tried not to squirm. After a bit of toying with me she tugged on my coat and reseated it, made sure the collar was up, then stepped back, taking me in. My cheeks were pink and my trousers tight.

“Ah, I really cannot complain to the Creator much.” Min spoke, in a teasing tone. “He gave me such a handsome husband, so accommodating, even if he is too young and too tall.”

“Moiraine also said I was too tall,” I grumbled. Light, it isn’t as if I can help my height.

She pat my cheek, and tilted her head as if innocently confused. “It’s because maybe you are? Have you considered shortening yourself to around Perrin’s size? That shaggy boy is just about the perfect height.”

I didn’t frown but she must have sensed something. “Oh, stop it. Rand, I’m teasing. Here,” and she gave me a kiss on the cheek, close to my lips. “Feel better? Because that’s all you’re going to get.”

Somehow I did, and she cackled at the face I made. “You are such a boy,” she finally said after she finished laughing, giving me a punch on the shoulder. “A kiss from a pretty girl and it washes your anger all way. I’ll have to remember that.”

Ingtar took in my clothing with a laugh, walked up to me, and clasped my forearm, speaking quietly into my ear. “I wanted to provide an escort, but I understand this is to be a… private picnic for you and your wives. Enjoy yourselves, but do not let down your guard. I do not believe we are out of danger yet.”

“Thank you for the advice, Ingtar. I will take it to heart.” And I would. Ingtar had years of fighting the Shadow under his belt, and if he still thought they hunted us, close enough to endanger my wives and me, then they probably did.

He stepped back, releasing my forearm and nodded, saying louder, “Peace favor your sword, Lord Drake.”

“Peace favor your sword, Lord Shinowa. We will return before the sun sets, but do not expect us to be quick.”

Snorts and laughter came from the sailors and soldiers nearby, quickly dying as I glanced with a blank face. Ingtar gave me a laughing smile, that made his craggy face handsome, but his voice was serious. “I would never expect you to be quick, my lord, but if you are not here by sundown, I will be sending a party to search for you. Please keep that in mind, Rand.”

“I will, Ingtar.” Message heard loud and clear.

The boat was quiet as we rowed ashore, Min and I working the oars, Moiraine sitting quiet, appearing in a deep Aes Sedai calm, but I could almost see thoughts racing through her head. Min was worried. It was just us, no sailors or Shienarans coming ashore, and as soon as we were beyond sight and hearing of the ship, no more than a ten minute walk into the Braem Woods, I found a small clearing with enough space for a Door.

“This should work,” I said as I took the lead container from Moiraine and transformed. Almost immediately I had to vomit, the Taint spilling from my mouth and into the container. I barely avoided spattering my clothes, to my intense mortification. I had channeled as a man, rather than so’shan, the night before, as Moiraine, Verin Sedai and I reset the wind weave for the evening. That had apparently been a mistake. I kept vomiting—tasting rancid, oily fat on my tongue—for nearly ten seconds, the lead container spilling over onto my hand, stinging it like acid and the ground in front of me. It was incredibly gross, and extremely humiliating, especially as Min felt of shock and fear and revulsion, while Moiraine was completely calm on the surface, but could not help the trickle of disgust. I did not want to look back at them, so the second I finished I blew fire down my hand, and onto the ground where the Taint spilled, already poisoning and corrupting the ground, twisting insects into chittering masses of chitin and limbs. I blew for a good ten seconds, cleaning my arm and boiling the Taint in the container, and ridding the ground of the metaphysical poison.

Min approached me cautiously from behind, as I quickly wipe my face with a cloth, but nothing else moved, the birds having gone quiet, and animals in the underbrush still.

“Rand… are you okay?” Her voice was hesitant, and she did not touch me. My cheeks were still hot with shame, and I did not want to turn and look at Min, see what disgusted face she made.

I had to explain. “Every time I change into the so’shan. I vomit up any of the Taint I may have gained from channeling. It protects me, you see. I just… I did not expect it to be so much... I’m sorry you had to see that, I know it’s disgusting.” Moiraine quietly approached and slotted herself into my right side without a word. I took comfort from her warm body and the solidness of her presence.

“You… vomit up… the Dark One’s own Taint? That’s horrible!” She paused, realizing what she said. “I mean, it’s wonderful that you can be rid of it, but what a horrible way to go about it. That must be awful to experience every time. It certainly looks awful.” Min said, frazzled.

I held back from any bitter laughter. “It’s kind of the thing about the gifts given to me. They’re helpful, they’re useful, they’re wonderful, but there is always some catch—I call it a curse—intertwined. But I can deal with it. I don’t need to complain about it again. I’m fine.”

I finally turned to look at Min, who still felt worried, and looked it, not a hint of disgust in her face. I breathed a sigh of relief. “Really, its fine. I just didn’t… I did not wish for you to see that. I made a mistake last night, should have channeled in my Lord Form, the so’shan. In the Lord Form the Taint burns up, see?” I seized saidin to demonstrate. Smoke began to trickle from my nostrils as I wove a torchlight, the flame floating, the same color purple as the tattoo of an eye on Min’s right hand. “No vomit, but I’m channeling.” The torchlight winked out.

Min turned to Moiraine. “Is that… truly the Taint on the male half of the One Power? Is this what you meant when you said Rand won’t go mad?”

“If he keeps channeling as a man and never rids himself of the Taint, then he will go mad surely as any other man. If he regularly changes into the so’shan and channels as the so’shan he should as protected from the ravages of madness as any man can be.”

A tension left Min, and her shoulders dropped. “Thank the Light, I was… I was worried. I know you said something about Rand not needing to worry when we were in the Tower, but there was so much you told me and I still…”

Feeling awkward and still somewhat ashamed—and certainly not wishing to talk of going mad. Not now, not ever—I wove a knot of Fire and Spirit ripped open to reveal a black door with glowing silver edges, impossibly sharp. That cut Min short, as she stared at the black rectangle floating in the air.

“Sorry,” I apologized, lamely. “We should get moving. This a Door, dont touch the edges, or they’ll cut you. Why? I don’t know. It just is. Through it we will travel through Darkspace and reach my father’s farm in less than an hour. I will enter first, to create the vessel we will travel in. Follow behind me.”

And with that little spiel I stepped through, onto a recreation of the Seamaid’s Kiss. Moiraine immediately joined me, stepping right after me. Surrounding the ship was pure darkness, pressing in on the eyes, no sound, no temperature, pure nothingness that extended as far as the eye could not see. The only light came from lit lanterns that lined the rails and hung from the mast, shining soft yellow light on the ship itself but not penetrating the darkness in the slightest. I approached the prow, while Min stood amidship where the Door lay, staring wide-eyed at the ship.

“This is Darkspace, and the ship is how we travel it,” I told Min. “And you can get to places faster here than horseback. Far faster. Eventually you’ll be able to open a Door here and travel like Moiraine, and I, once you are powerful enough in the One Power.”

“I will learn the One Power, but I won’t be an Aes Sedai,” she said, defiantly, glancing between Moiraine and I.

Moiraine snorted, wry amusement sparkling in the bond. She had found and sat daintily on the incongruous couch that graced the foredeck, dressed in her Sunday best. She wore a blue silk dress with silver-thread scholar’s lilies embroidered all over, a gold chain around her waist dotted with a dozen tiny sapphires, hoops of gold in her ears, and dark makeup giving her eyes a smoky look. Thank you, Creator and the Iridescent Flame, for the beauties you have bestowed upon me. Moiraine always looked beautiful, but she appeared stunning today. The only thing that would enhance that beauty would be the glow of saidar, a white-gold nimbus to give her a sacred air, more than human.

I broke my stare looked at Min confusedly. “Of course you will be. You’ll be my Aes Sedai wife, alongside Moiraine and Egwene, and presumably the others. All of you will channel the One Power beside me. Now, you probably won’t go to the White Tower like Egwene and be a novice, but Moiraine is certain to train you for the foreseeable future, and surely train you like an Aes Sedai even if you never take the Oaths.”

“That’s what I meant. I won’t be going back to the White Tower. I saw how they treat Novices, and even Accepted. You won’t send me away like your village girl, Egwene. I won’t let Moiraine be rid of me that easily.” She stood with fists on her hips, glaring. “I won’t let her send me away without a fight.” Where is this coming from? I wondered, astounded.

I thought on how to respond, as I unwove the Door. It melted away like mist. Suddenly, the ship moved at an incredible speed, the sails silently billowing where they had lain flat and windless only a second before. And yet for all our speed, I could not tell truly how fast we went, only that we moved inexorably towards the clearing north of my father’s farm.

I took a deep breath and tried to explain. “I did not send Egwene away, she chose the White Tower before we were bound. If you look at my hand, you’ll see her shield is the flag of Tar Valon. I don’t think she truly had a choice, when it comes down to it. Egwene is bound to the White Tower by the Pattern and Moiraine had nothing to do with it, besides telling her she could be an Aes Sedai and starting her down the path. Everything else was all on Egwene, the desire to become an Aes Sedai. And if Moiraine tries to send you away, I will not let her. Where is this coming from?”

“And what if she convinces you it is a good idea? That it’s only temporary? I’ve seen how you two are, I’m just the new girl-”

“May I interject?” Moiraine asked calmly, though I could feel her amusement and the serenity of confidence. She did not wait for confirmation. “Every woman bound to Rand is another sister of mine, as surely as the Aes Sedai of the White Tower are my sisters, closer even. We share Rand, the Dragon Reborn, and while some of us may at times need to stay separate from the rest, I hope we will stay together, fight together, learn together and love together in the years ahead. If multiple men can love the same woman peacefully—warrior men even, Warders of the Green Ajah—then multiple women should be able to love the same man peacefully, Min. The Aiel have a practice already in place for such a thing, they call them sister-wives, when two or more women share a husband. Most would consider them savages, but I find the idea surprisingly civilized. I would be honored to consider you my sister-wife, Min.” Moiraine stood from the couch and walked over to Min, arms wide open, open sincerity in her face and posture. “Hug, sister-wife of mine?”

Min squirmed, before sighing and bending a little to hug the smaller woman, “Fine. Honestly, knowing that you cannot help but tell the truth makes me feel a lot better than I would with any other woman in this situation. But I’m not calling you sister-wife and you better not call me it either. It just… sounds weird. I appreciate the sentiment, though, Moiraine Sedai. Truly, I do. Thank you for explaining how you felt.” Min let go and took a step back.

Moiraine felt disappointed for a moment and frowned. “Ah, I thought surely you would join me as my sister-wife. Its by far the best term for what we are, sisters in our wifehood to one man. And, unfortunately for you, I will continue to use the term. It is by far the best option, since I cannot call you a fellow dragonwife in public yet.”

Min groaned. “Dragonwife? Light, is that something Rand came up with?”

Moiraine considered. “I’m not sure. Either way, we cannot use it yet, so you shall be my sister-wife, Min al’Thor.”

Min flushed at hearing her new last name. “I’m still Min Farshaw, we did not have an actual ceremony,” she protested.

“Oh, but I eagerly took my new last name. I cannot wait until the Hall and those grasping Sitters hear I’ve given up the Damodred name for a sheepherder’s!” Moiraine cackled—actually cackled—but anger lay in the bond, and frustration, alongside an atonal bitter amusement.

“Uh. Does that mean I cannot make you queen of Cairhien, Moiraine? Because I thought that was an easy choice, but now….” As I spoke the bond began to buzz irritably in the back of my mind, blocking her true emotions from me.

“You would not be the first to try, nor the last, Rand al’Thor. I know you only ask in ignorance, but do not do so again.” Her voice is cool as ice and her face flat. And then just as suddenly, the buzzing stops and all I can read is placid calm, in the bond and her face. “But let us speak of more pleasant topics. Rand, you should have new Weaves to try while we wait, and I get a lesson in with Min. And when we reach your father’s, perhaps a demonstration for him and Min should be in order.”

I took a moment to adjust, telling myself everything was fine, and that I had just made a simple mistake. That she was obviously trying to move on and would not appreciate an apology. “Yes, Moiraine Sedai,” and I began describing the weaves to Moiraine, and testing them as far away as possible, in the ship's rear, calling out descriptions as.

The first was a curved pane composed of knots of Earth and Air, and twists of Fire and Water, in a frame of Spirit, it let me see saidar. I discovered this as I held the weave in the air in front of my face and watched the white-gold nimbus that surrounded Moiraine and Min as the Aes Sedai walked her through the meditation required for channeling. I could see the steady pulse of Moiraine’s thin flow of Air caused the crystal to shine, and Min’s trembling thread caused the crystal to light somewhat brightly three times before the One Power fled Min. I named it channelsight rather than saidarsight, on the assumption it would work for male channelers too, but I did not have any independent way of verifying that.

Fuck, at some point I’m going to need to start training male channelers for the Last Battle… That must be why I was given these weaves by the Iridescent Flame, I realized. The thought made me shiver, the idea of surrounding myself with madmen in the making, teaching them weapons of war. I will just have to cleanse saidin before I start teaching, that’s all, I thought mirthlessly.

I did not try the second or third weaves, as by simply looking at them I could tell they were some kind of offensive weaves, but I let Moiraine know. One involved Water and Air, and seemed to form a dangerous storm—something we did not need in Darkspace—and the other was entirely Air, a long stringy weave that I could tell would be dangerous, but not what.

The fourth weave was predominantly Air, with all Five Elements laced through the structure, and when fed enough of the One Power it created a small dome, maybe ten feet high, made of Air walls braced with the four other Elements, lit blue by an unknown source and a perfectly comfortable temperature. The creation—I’m calling it the Domestic Dome—interrupted Moiraine and Min’s training and they joined me in staring at it, carefully, before we walked inside, passing into the dome and finding ourselves in a warm, dry place.

Moiraine stared at the walls, which perfectly showed the surrounding boat, but appeared opaque on the outside. Then she bent down to touch the surprisingly comfortable floor, slightly heated. She looked for the light source, but found nothing. Min and I stood awkwardly in silence, waiting for her to say something.

Min finally joked, “I guess we don’t have to worry about a tent fitting all three of us anymore.”

“This is impossible,” Moiraine finally said, a baffled look on her face. “Every Aes Sedai knows you cannot regulate a room’s temperature with the One Power, only increase it or decrease it, and any transfer of heat via Fire causes the channeler to take huge burns as if they had touched the flame themselves. And that’s putting aside somehow creating walls that are only seen through on the inside, or light without a source. You’re impossible, Rand al’Thor. What other long-held beliefs will you strike down next?” Moiraine shook her head, a trickle of dread quickly washed away by calm. I bit my lip for a moment, then spoke.

“Blame the Iridescent Spirit, they’re the one that put this stuff in my head. This one took good chunk of the saidin I hold, and I have no idea how you would accomplish it with saidar, but Min is right. There’s more than enough room for us to lay down together, and it seems much more comfortable.”

“I think that is putting the cart before the horse a bit, Rand. We do not yet know how long this structure lasts, or if anyone can enter it, or any other number of tests we could try, before we use it to sleep. I will use it for Min’s lessons for the rest of the trip.”

I made a token protest, but Moiraine pushed me along and I let her. I took a seat on the couch on the foredeck, almost skipping the fifth weave because of how familiar it was after the Dome, but I took the time to form the wall of Air, tinted blue-white. Air as solid as steel, to protect against arrows and other projectiles. An airwall, if you will. The sixth and seventh were no goes, either, both Spirit heavy weaves, both connected me to others and did something to them, but I knew not what that something was.

So, while I felt Min alternating frustration and calm and Moiraine’s focus, I wove airwall after airwall, finding it simple to tug and adjust the weave, changing the shape and size of the airwall that formed. Simple adjustments became finer and finer over the last twenty minutes of travel, with an ease that surprised me.

I sat on the couch deeply focused on trying to create the letter ‘A’ as perfectly as possible when I felt Min moving towards me. I turned to watch her leave the blue opaque dome, letting the airwall dissipate. “Less than three minutes until we reach the clearing outside my father’s farm. How’d it go?”

“Tabac farmer, found you as a baby and implied you were Aiel, taught you your meditation and the bow, right?” Min said as she made her way over and sat wearily down, giving me a glare. “And how do you think it went? The same as always, I do it better and faster and its always, ‘Oh I know you can do better, child’ or 'Is that all?' with that smile of hers, the cool and merciless one that tries to tell me I’m not good enough and I dig deeper over and over until I feel as wrung out as a dishrag. I supposed I should be glad this lesson ended early and that Verin Sedai stopped Moiraine Sedai from more than three lessons a day. She thought we would arrive soon.”

“I’m sorry she works you so hard.”

Min sniffed. “Don’t be sorry for me, sheepherder. I asked for it, I asked to be taught the fastest way possible. There is nothing for you to be sorry for.”

I rubbed the back of my head, swallowing the automatic apology, and considered. “Are you doing well?”

At this question, Min grins. “I made a lightball today after watching Moiraine once. It flickered out two seconds later, and Moiraine just so happened to mention Egwene’s first lasted four,” Min grumbled, briefly frowning before smiling again. “Of course the next one lasted six, and I accidentally changed the color, made it a bright red. Not sure how I did it, to be honest.”

In that moment we reached our destination and the ship stopped moving, the sails dying and the sensation of forward momentum ceased. “I’m glad you’re catching on quickly. I don’t think Moiraine had Egwene working that weave in the first week, on our way north to Baerlon, just the crystal and the meditation, but I do not actually remember all that much.” I finished sheepishly.

Min gave me a side-eye. “That isn’t as much of a compliment as you seem to think it is, sheepherder.”

I grimaced, and moved on. “We’re here,” I said, calling out to the Domestic Dome where Moiraine was doing… something. Almost immediately she poked her head, and only her head, out of the opaque blue force of the Dome. “Open a Door and leave it open for a few minutes, to make sure no one lurks waiting for us.”

I sighed, following the orders as I opened a Door to the clearing north of my father’s farm, to a sight I did not expect.

Chapter Text

Amadine 14, 998 NE (June 21st)

My father was holding a fence post with a large, tall man with tanned limbs like tree trunks, who stood shirtless with broad, muscled shoulders, lifting a hammer high over his head, when the door opened. The hammer dropped immediately, and the man took a defensive position. The blacksmith, Master Luhhan? I guessed. Fence posts were visible, some lying in a pile and others already having been put into the ground, and the beginnings of a gate stood half-built. Suddenly, a rather wide man with sparse gray hair and a round face stepped into view, shock and hope on his face.

“Egwene? Are you in there Egwene?”

I groaned. This must be the Mayor, and Egwene’s father, Brandelwyn al’Vere. And of course my father did not keep quiet. Moiraine won’t be pleased.

The large man, arms roped with muscles, called out as well. “Perrin, boy? You in there?” I was right. Master Luhhan.

“It appears your father did not keep it a secret,” Moiraine said cooly, stepping out of the Dome this time. She felt frustrated, and resigned in equal measure, but looked as calm as could be, not even a hint of storm clouds in her eyes. Sorry, Moiraine, but not everyone adheres to your plans and whims.

Placatingly, I told her, “I’ll talk with them, let them know that this is a visit to just my father, and try to get them moving.”

Moiraine nodded once, and peered through the Door at the men, a forced calm spreading through the bond. Min spoke up, “Not that I don’t mind meeting your friend’s fathers, but I’d rather not be there while you disappoint them.” She said and gave me a sheepish grin.

I sighed as my two wives easily let me take the burden onto my shoulders. “Feel free to join me at any time,” I said, sarcastically.

The men had been growing more and more worried while no one had exited the strange black Door with its glowing silver edge, and I startled them as I quickly stepped out alone. Master al’Vere took a few steps back, not seeming to recognize me for a moment, and I saw Master Luhhan tighten his grip. My father smiled, broadly, putting a calming hand on Master Luhhan’s shoulder.

I took a deep breath and spoke with a smile. “I have come back, like I said I would, but I seem to have interrupted a little project. Building a fence to keep wandering folks out?”

“Oh, oh my, Rand al’Thor, is that you? I had thought a young lord stepped out of this black door in the air,” said Master al’Vere, approaching me with wide arms and taking me into a warm hug. I knew the man not, but he was the father of my first wife, and my father-in-law even if he did not know it yet. As he squeezed me tight, I suddenly realized I would have to tell this man I married his daughter, without his permission nor in any ceremony, and I stiffened, resolving to not address it unless it came up. No sense in laying my head on the chopping block. I released him and stepped back.

“Master al’Vere, it is good to see you!” I said with faked enthusiasm. I had no idea who the man really was, but from Egwene’s stories, and at first blush, he seemed a kind and boisterous sort. “It feels like forever since I’ve seen you. Unfortunately, Egwene is not with me, but she was well when I last saw her. She has started her training in the White Tower, as one of the most powerful young women they have ever found. She will be a great Aes Sedai one day, I know it, but she cannot come visit you this way just yet.”

Bran’s face fell. “I had hoped… since Tam had told me… but it seems the Pattern has other plans.” Then he scrutinized me carefully, voice suddenly less friendly. “And you are fine with this, for your betrothed to become an Aes Sedai? Many men would consider the betrothal broken, or the woman a witch and beyond matrimony.”

“We have a plan. I will be her Warder when she is raised to the shawl, and becomes a Sister of the White Tower,” I said, confidently. “An Aes Sedai and her Warder share a bond that is as close as husband and wife, if not closer. I will not betray her, nor abandon her. I love Egwene.”

“Mmm. And how, exactly, is a shepherd who ran away from home supposed to become the Warder of my little girl? They are legendary warriors, that require years of specialized training.” Bran’s voice was curious, and a little contemptuous, and his eyes flashed with a bit of heat.

My father spoke before I could. “Enough with the interrogation, Bran, I’d like to be able hug my son as well. And you well know I told you that Warder was training Rand. If anyone can teach someone to become a Warder on the road, it will be a Borderlands Warder. Everyone knows soldiers of the Borderlands chew iron and spit out nails, and what is a Warder but the greatest soldier of them all.”

Bran backed off, arms raised in defeat, giving the Door a longing stare, before peering back at me, taking in my clothing, a red coat with spiraling golden dragons, and nice black pants embroidered with red thorns. I must have looked strange.

“I’m guessing Perrin is not behind that strange door as well?” Master Luhhan asked quietly, sounding resigned. I shook my head. “Just as well, I did not wish to speak with the curly haired buffoon quite yet. Of all the knuckle-brained things for him to do, running off with an Aes Sedai,” Haral Luhhan grumbled, finally setting his hammer down.

My father stepped forward to give me a tight hug that I returned with gusto, and then he stepped back to look me over.

There was a sad smile on his face, and I could see the age in his eyes. “I did not say so before, but your Aes Sedai has really changed you, Rand. You look like a man. A different man than I thought you’d grow up to be, but a man. A nice coat, the silk shirt and fine linen pants, the gold-threaded embroidery, your long hair tied back, even the way you hold yourself, looser but more assured. It is different, more different than I could have ever expected, but I find I like it. The sword fits you even more now. You’ve had to use it, haven’t you?”

I felt strange from my father’s words. I had changed this much in just a month and a week and I would change much more in the months and years to come. Hell, I had apparently changed enough in the week between visits that my father felt he should mention it. Yet all I could see to do was move forward and embrace it. I could never be the old Rand again, nor was I sure I wanted to be. The old Rand would have never fallen for an Aes Sedai. The old Rand would never have studied channeling. He would have run far far away from the storybook tale that was my life, the madness and the wonder. He thought it would end with the Eye of the World. I knew better.

“I have,” is what I say though, “three times now.” That causes Tam to give me another once over. “I am fine, da. No wounds. But that is not why I am here, I wanted to you to meet Moiraine Sedai again. We dealt with the issues I had talked about last time and it is time for you two to meet. Plus I wanted to get off the boat and stretch my legs.” I did not want to mention Min or the wives in front of the other two men.

My father nodded and a light of understanding went through his eyes, as his smile grew wider and happier, softening his face. “Ah, yes. I had hoped things would resolve themselves. Bran, Haral, can you let me meet with Moiraine Sedai and Rand alone today? We’ll arrange another time for you all and Abell to get up here and see your boys. That would work, right Rand?”

I nodded, not seeing an issue giving Mat and Perrin a chance to see family and friends. “I believe I can convince Moiraine Sedai to let Mat and Perrin visit the Two Rivers.”

The men left soon after that, taking heart in my claim, and taking some tools with them. Moiraine stepped out of the Door as soon as they were no longer visible, followed by Min, who examined the clearing curiously. Moiraine approached my father, looking radiant in the blue silk dress with embroidered silver-thread scholar’s lilies. She must have had it made after the tattoo revealed itself, I thought absently, with a smile.

“Hello again, Tam al’Thor. You look well for someone who took a Myrddraal’s blade three months ago. You do remember me, yes? I am Moiraine al’Thor, your son’s second wife, and an Aes Sedai of the Blue Ajah,” she said, her nervousness warbling in the back of my mind, incongruous with the calm and lovely woman in front of me.

Tam laughed, and gave her a big smile. “Of course I remember the beautiful woman that convinced my son to run off,” he teased. At least, I think he did. “I may be older, but I’m not that old. It is good to see you again, and I must thank you for saving my life back then. You decided to take our last name? It will be good to have women in the family again, between you and Egwene.”

Moiraine let herself flush, and smiled. “Yes, I honestly do not like my last name, for it has only caused me trouble and pain. Taking your son’s name was a relief, a balm to my heart. And there are certain people I cannot wait to see the reactions of.”

Tam nodded, a serious look on his face. “Mmm. I can understand not liking your family. There was a reason I left the Two Rivers, but that’s a tale for another time. Tell me, who is the striking young woman beside you?”

“This young lady beside me in Elmindra ‘Min’ Farshaw, your son’s third wife, most recently of Baerlon. We are pleased to meet you, father-in-law.” And then Moiraine gave a deep curtsy. Min paused, then bowed, right forearm in front of her waist, and her left arm angled behind her.

“Please, call me Min, father-in-law, everyone else does,” Min said with a cheeky smile, though tossing Moiraine a look of annoyance.

“It’s nice to meet you Min.” Tam turned to me and laughed, a deep joyful sound. “You got yourself an Andoran girl, good. Your mother came from a good merchant’s family in Caemlyn. She’d get into a tizzy about you following her footsteps, and marrying a girl from a small mining town like Baerlon, though her mother would have fainted. They hated she married a Two Rivers man, absolutely hated me, the fools.”

Min’s grin grew wider. “Your son here doesn’t have just one good Andoran girl,” she said, mischief creeping into the bond. “He has two. The Daughter-Heir of Andor, Elayne Trakand is the other.” Then she laughed as I glowered at her.

My father looked surprised but laughed too. “That is a good one. I could almost believe it, if it was not so ridiculous. Next you’ll be telling me he’s getting an Aiel or a Seafolk wife.” Min laughed even harder at that, bending over with her hands on her knees and Moiraine sighed.

I stiffened. This could be an opening to talk with my father about being Aiel. But was it a good time? No, I’ll wait, I thought.

Min wiped her eyes. “That does seem ridiculous, but that’s the exact description of Rand’s last three wives!” She let out a throaty chuckle. “You nailed it, Master al’Thor. The Daughter-Heir, an Aiel woman, and a woman with the dark skin the Seafolk are said to have.”

My father looked baffled. “I… I was joking… wait, how would you even know this?”

I explained. “She can see the future sometimes, da. She sees who I will end of marrying, amongst other things. She sees all sorts of things, and they always come true.”

Tam had a strange look on his face. “So you actually will marry an Aiel—”

I interrupted, not wanting to have any revelations in a forest clearing when there was a perfectly good couch to lounge on. “Yes, I will actually have to marry an Aiel woman. Lets move inside the house, there’s a lot to talk about and I’d rather be comfortable.”

We walked through the forest and tabac fields, Moiraine’s hand held mine, while my father spoke to Min.

“So, you can see every wife that Rand will have? Care to tell me what my future daughters-in-law look like?” Tam asked.

“Well, you know Egwene, Moiraine and I, but there is also Elayne, a beautiful young woman with a heartshaped face, and golden hair tinted red, and blue eyes like sapphires. There is the Aiel woman, tall and muscled with her red hair cut short similar to mine, but more martial, and hard blue-green eyes. The last is a slim, boyish young woman with dark skin like a Seafolk, a heartshaped face with dark brown eyes and full lips, with a shaven head. Those are who I see.”

“And it isn’t a joke? You’re not playing with me?”

“I don’t lie about what I see,” Min said, a little offended.

“What do you see around me, then?” asked Tam, curious.

Min grimaced. “It’s not always the best thing to know. These things cannot be changed, not unless something nearly impossible happens. I’ve only ever seen one future change completely, and it is your son’s. But he’s the bloody Dragon Reborn, pardon my language.”

He still wanted to know, so she told him. “Three golden plumes on a helmet and a sword, a blacksmith beating plowshares into swords, a wreath of roses around your neck, and the moon over your shoulder, and finally you black coat with a sword and dragon pin.”

My father considered the words as we finished walking through the field of tabac, and made our way inside the farmhouse. “I have absolutely no idea what any of those but the first means. Apparently, I am to be First Captain of the Companions. Which would mean I’m leaving the Two Rivers for Illian, some day.”

“Illian is our goal for the moment,” Moiraine said casually, “Soon enough, they will crown your son King of Illian.” I blinked. That’s certainly a way to tell him the news.

My father barked a laugh as he moved into the kitchen to gather a platter with cups and a kettle, to make tea over the fire. Moiraine followed him while we moved on to the living room. “Light, the things your wives say, Rand. And you expect me to believe Mattin Stepaneos would simply give up the throne to my son? Even if he remembers the al’Thor name, its been nearly twenty years and royalty is notoriously fickle-minded. Who knows what he thinks of me now?”

I could hear the satisfied smile on Moiraine’s lips. “That is why it is fortunate that we rely not on nostalgia for the former Second Captain of the Companions, but instead the notoriety of Rand having found and rescued the Horn of Valere. They will crown anyone who delivers the Horn to them, even a Forsaken or the Dark One himself. A shapeshifter will be much more palatable, even if he is married to an Aes Sedai. Illian is not Tear.”

Min, not having heard of this yet—since telling her, ‘Hey, I’m about to become King because my wife said I should’, isn’t exactly the best way to break the news—listened in closely as I directed her over to the couch, sitting in the middle. I felt a chill and joined Moiraine in a circle, feeling the honeysweet life and power of saidin flowing through my veins, and I could not help relaxing deeper into the couch and putting an arm around Min. She stiffened and gave me a curious look I returned with a beaming smile, and relaxed into it. Soon enough my father exited the kitchen followed by Moiraine who carried the platter on yellow Air, as she did the kettle, which was steaming from a thin coil of Fire as it floated. If only I had such fine control, I thought enviously. I’d probably cause the kettle to explode.

“And when they learn he is the Dragon Reborn? A man who can channel?” my father asked bluntly, as he settled into his chair, and the platter with mugs settled on the table, followed by the kettle. “What will your plan be then?”

Moiraine took her place beside me, settling into my side. She gave my father a brief smile and spoke while she poured everyone tea. “Why, then they’ll be under a King who is a shapeshifter, those blessed by the Creator to fight the Shadow, and who is the Dragon Reborn, a man who is probably the most powerful channeler alive right now. As the Last Battle stirs, they’ll be able to rest easy knowing their nation is the heart of the Dragon’s new kingdom. With the Horn as the fishhook, Illian will not even deign to shake us loose, and then its simply defending ourselves from other nations, and the White Tower, while Rand proves he is who he claims to be with Tear.”

Tam sat back in his chair and considered what she said, while both me and Min stared aghast.

Min spoke up. “Why would we have to defend ourselves from the White Tower? Aren’t you an Aes Sedai?”

I protested as well, “I spoke with the Amyrlin,I bowed and scraped and took her orders, and you still think we’ll have to fight?”

“Merely while there is a question of who you are, Rand,” Moiraine placated, placing a cool hand on my knee. “The Tower is turbulent right now, and the Amyrlin’s position is precarious. She may have no choice but to act offensively to keep her Seat. Or Ajah’s could act independently, specifically the Reds and maybe the Greens. It really is quite a tricky situation Siuan is in. It would be best to not expect more support from the White Tower than I.”

“You spoke with the Amyrlin Seat?” My father sounded astounded, and I nodded. “Light burn me for doubting still, you really are the Dragon Reborn.” He shook his head. “I knew it, I had to believe, but if the Amyrlin Seat let you, a man who can channel, speak with her and leave untouched, that’s... that’s real. And she gave you orders? What kind of thing did she think to order a shepherd who barely knows how to channel do?”

I laughed, ignoring the hurt. I was neither a shepherd anymore, nor did I barely know how to channel. “Right? It’s ridiculous. After I take over Illian as King, I’m supposed to go to Toman Head and figure out why people keep claiming Artur Hawkwing’s Empire has returned, see if it is true, or a plot of the Shadow and announce myself there as Dragon Reborn, regardless of whatever I find.”

“Seems like something you’ll need an army for. Toman Head is not small, bigger than the Two Rivers, and more populated.” He paused, a look of realization settling onto his face. “So that must be what Illian is for, the Companions as core of Rand’s army, and a victory over the Shadow, or an invader from across the sea, to cement his kingship.”

“You are a discerning man, Tam al’Thor. With the Companions by his side, Rand should be safe enough to scout out Toman Head and determine who exactly is invading. And when he proclaims himself, the aftershocks of such an announcement will reverberate through the Westlands, and thousands shall flock to his banner, as they do each time a False Dragon proclaims himself. Returning triumphant, with the Companions and any Tomani who comes with him, proclaiming his true nature as the Dragon Reborn and a military win will, as you said, cement his kingship in the hearts of Illianers near and far.”

“And what plans do you have for my son after that.” Tam’s voice was flat, and his stare hard. I made to speak up, but Moiraine put a hand over mine.

“Dozens. A rapid conquering of Tarabon, followed by an invasion of Amadicia, wiping out the so-called Children of Light once and for all. A conquering of Arad Doman, followed by the diplomatic talks with Saldea, as Shienar has proclaimed Rand Lord Drake, chinnar’veren. That holds weight in the Borderlands, as does him being the Dragon Reborn. Only in the Borderlands is the Karatheon Cycle read on cold winter nights, to remind people what is to come, the glory and the destruction. The annexation of the Saldea, and other Borderlander kingdoms into Rand’s nascent kingdom could be done by the start of next spring if we move quickly enough. Or Rand could invade Tear, take the Stone and seize the Sword That Is Not A Sword, and be acknowledged as the true Dragon Reborn by every right-thinking Tairen and Aes Sedai, and any who’ve read the Prophecies. There are many paths for Rand to choose and take, but I will not know which until Toman Head is finished.”

As she spoke my father’s face grew more and more lined with worry. “You want him to be the next Artur Hawkwing. You want the Dragon Reborn to bring war and destruction. You want my boy to fight.”

Fervent conviction filled her voice, and the bond. “I want him to be greater, Tam. War and destruction is already coming. The Last Battle looms over us, False Dragons grow more and more numerous and destructive, shadowspawn gather in the Blight, Darkfriends pop up like mushrooms after a hard rain. The end of the Age is coming, Tam, and only Rand can guide us through to an Age of Light.”

Min sat quiet with worry, glancing between Moiraine and my father. I was silent, feeling like a child with two adults arguing over me, my annoyance and frustration growing.

“I’ve been through war, I’ve seen what it is really like. I’ve fought Whitecloaks and Tairens and Aiel. I did not wish that for my son, all I wanted for him was a safe and happy life, with a good wife. And then you came here and everything changed. I owe you my life, and my son’s life, but I cannot help hating you, Moiraine Sedai, for the pain and suffering you’ll—”

I stood up angrily. “Hey that’s too much. Too far. It was not her fault things changed, it is not her fault war will come, and she saved us, saved the village. I would be dead or worse, twisted by the Shadow. Hate the Dark One, hate the Trollocs, hate Padan Fain, hate the kings and queens who will deny and defy me, the lords and ladies who will rebel and renounce me, but don’t hate Moiraine.”

Moiraine felt of pleased and a sense of contentment over all, as she also stood, and gently pushed me back onto the couch, before sitting beside me once more. “It is fine, Rand. I expected worse, to be quite honest. A little hate is nothing to an Aes Sedai. I do appreciate my husband coming to my defense though.”

“It’s not fine, you’re my wife,” I did not whine.

A smile came over Tam’s face at our antics, washing away the hardness and the worry. His sigh was bittersweet. “That is why I can only hate you a little, I see my son is very taken with you, for better and worse. I am glad you two made up. The only thing worse than Rand mooning over a girl is Rand moping over a girl. Always used to be Egwene, but I could tell last time he visited, he was quite upset and it wasn’t with her.”

I flushed. “Da! Maybe don’t hate her at all? I’ve forgiven her, and I had much greater reason.”

“Give me time. But Min, I’m so sorry I’ve been ignoring you. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

Min spoke for the next half hour about Baerlon, and funny fates she’d seen and the antics of her three aunts, having us all laughing and the mood improved, until there was a lull in conversation and I took advantage. I just have to ask, he won’t lie, I told myself.

I sat up straighter and said, “Da, there’s a question I wanted to ask.”

He gave me a careful look, a little worry visible in his eyes. “You can ask me anything, son. Anything,” he said, seriously.

“Was my mother Aiel?”

There was a long moment of stillness before Tam slowly nodded and said, “Your birth mother was, but the mother that raised you, Kari, was not. It was just luck that your hair matched. Our miracle baby, she called you.”

“You found me on Dragonmount,” I stated, more certain now. I needed to know though.

His eyes seem to gaze past me, looking on another time, as he nodded. “It was early morning, the sun barely above the horizon and it should have been bitter cold, but fighting keeps the blood warm, and the heat of battle lingered over the corpses of those Aiel women. They fight, you know? They call themselves Maidens of the Spear, and fight like wolves. Nasty and full of tricks. I guess one of them was pregnant, because there you were, all swaddled up in a torn cloak, turning blue with the cold, crying your head off. I saved you, and you became our miracle baby. Kari had lost two children, a boy and a girl, before I found you, and we thought…” He trailed off, a tear in his eye and a crooked smile on his face. “Our miracle baby. I didn’t know how true that was, it seemed.”

“Oh,” was all I could say. I truly was Aiel. My father and mother weren’t my birth parents. I didn’t feel any grand revelation nor did I feel secure in the knowledge, instead I simply felt a sudden distance between myself and my father that I needed to bridge. Only a little desperately I said, “You are still my father.”

His smile became less crooked. “I know,” he said simply. Then he slapped his knees and shook his head, before wiping a few more tears away. “I know. You don’t need to assuage an old man like me. But tell me about yourself, Rand. Tell me how you’ve been since I last saw you. What happened that made you need to return so quickly?”

“Well,” and I told him. I told him of returning to the clearing and finding a Myrddraal waiting with a fist of Trollocs and dozens of Darkfriends. Of dueling and winning, and leaving Fal Dara the next day. Of our second and third ambushes by shadowspawn, and my successes on the battlefield. “If you like we can go outside and I can demonstrate? Moiraine thought it might be something you’d be interested in?”

“And it is safe for you, to channel the One Power? You won’t go mad, right?” Tam asked worriedly.

“As long as I am in the so’shan, then I face no danger at all, and even as just a man the Taint is removed from me by shapechanging.”

Tam thought for a moment, then nodded. “As long as you don’t burn the house or barn down, I’m… I’m willing to watch your work with the One Power. It will be a sight to see. I’ve only rarely seen an Aes Sedai, and never as they channeled.”

So we tramped outside, Moiraine in the lead, and I transformed, pulling on the energy beneath my skin.

“This is the shoshan?” asked Tam.

“So’shan,” I corrected. “It means Lord Form in the Old Tongue. So’shan would lead the armies of the Light against the Shadow, in the War of Power, and in the centuries after the Breaking. I am a dragon so’shan, though we claim I am a drake, a made-up Sharan snake-lion.”

“I see,” my father said, still somewhat confused.

We set up in an empty field that Moiraine clear-cut of weeds and grass, leaving me a wide space of dirt to work the One Power in without worry of causing a fire. It was a warm summer day, and I took a deep breath, preparing myself to work the One Power once more. I burned every emotion, every thought, every little niggling fear and worry, until my mind was a smooth and unruffled as a winter pond on the new moon. The Oneness enveloped me, as I seized saidin, unleashing a torrent of life and power into my veins.

First, I wove a dozen torchlights in a dozen colors and danced them in a simple circle around me, then I wove Spirit Swords that spun lazily around my waist until it looked like I was the pistil of a ghost flower. Three bolts of Fire flew, before I destabilized the weave so they exploded in the air like fireworks, then I did the same with bolts of Air, and Water and Earth, thunderclaps and the sound of stone shattering filling the air. With wave of my hands a gust of wind scattered the shrapnel far away, landing and damaging no one, then with my right hand I wove a Flaming Hand, and with my left I wove a Shocking Grasp, spraying fire and lightning to shouts of awe and alarm. Taking a moment, I left those weaves fade and wove a Gentle Feather around me. Then I resumed as I leapt into the sky, clearing almost ten feet and doing a backflip, all while I shot fire and lightning from my hands. Then the weaves were unwoven, the lights and the Spirit Swords finally fading and I stood, breathing hard from the exertion of weaving three dozen different threads of saidin while moving.

Min and Moiraine clapped enthusiastically, while my father stood gaping, as I bowed in the Warder fashion.

“Light… I knew you could channel, but I thought it would be simple things, like a light or a flame, or the wind. That was astounding Rand! Better than any circus I’d ever seen in Illian. I can see why you beat back those ambushes, even against fists of Trollocs. I would be terrified to fight on the opposite side of you. I cannot believe your flames did not burn you!” my father gushed, the words pouring out of him.

“Flows of Fire and other Elements cannot harm their wielder, Tam, he was perfectly safe,” Moiraine informed him soothingly.

“That was amazing, Rand. Really, I had no idea you were so far along,” said Min earnestly, with a hint of envy in the bond.

“I have a good teacher. A really good one,” I said with a smile, glancing at Moiraine, before making my way over to her. I was filled with saidin, filled with life, and my joy from channeling once more overrode any embarrassment or shyness I might have had, as I bent down and took Moiraine’s lips. She protested only for a moment, weakly beating at my chest before she gave up and kissed me back. We stood there for a long moment, sinking into each other and the world faded away.

My father’s cough brought me back to reality, where a smoky-eyed Moiraine reluctantly wiggled out of my grasp, took a deep breath, and pushed me away. “That was… Not appropriate Rand,” she said cooly, but faintly sheepish. She wasn’t mad though, so I paid it little mind.

Tam laughed. “It may not have been something I’d recommend you’d do in the Green, but its hardly inappropriate. I’m glad you two are getting along, that is important in a marriage. It is not every day a man has his son claim he married an Aes Sedai. It warms my heart to see you return his affections so easily.”

Min laughed then. “You’d think she’d be all cool and collected, even in with her affections, but you’d be quite wrong.”

Moiraine did not allow herself to flush, but embarrassment was bright and glaring in the bond. Somehow a dozen servants gossiping about it meant nothing, yet the second Min starts teasing her in front of my father... “I believe that is enough discussing my heart, which I would like to remind everyone, is a private matter.”

“Except when you start acting on it in public,” Min retorted, sticking her tongue out, earning a gaze of playful, though half-serious, anger from Moiraine.

“She’s got you there, Moiraine Sedai,” my father said, chuckling.

I changed the subject, before Moiraine actually got upset. “How about I test some weaves I wouldn’t be able to test aboard the ship? There were a few that seemed dangerous, or required being used on another.” I asked Moiraine, pulling her from the staring contest she had entered with Min.

“Call me Moiraine, Tam. And yes Rand, let us test the ones that require another with myself. The dangerous ones can wait.”

“Is that safe, to for him to test a… a weave on you?” Tam asked, forehead wrinkled in consternation.

“Not at all,” Moiraine replied, easily, “But Rand seems to learn weaves nigh-instantaneously on seeing them, and even if he is thick-fingered and fumbling with the weave, he always makes it successfully. Whatever is supposed to happen, will happen. I can trust that with him, and if he says they don’t seem dangerous, then they aren’t.” Still, she felt somewhat worried.

“Min, da, if you’ll step back a few paces, I’m going to start.” They backed away swiftly, Min looking as worried as Moiraine felt.

I wove a thin cord of Spirit and Air, that connected my head with Moiraine’s head. I just knew that was how the weave was supposed to go. I wonder what this does? I thought as I made to speak. It was something about communication, I could tell that.

“I don’t know,” Moiraine answered, audibly.

“You don’t know what?” I asked carefully.

“You told me you wondered what the weave does, and I answered,” she said slowly, as if I were an idiot.

I ignored it and wove the thin cord of Spirit and Air once more. Moiraine is my beautiful Aes Sedai wife whom I cherish, I thought, and Moiraine smiled in response, spots of color briefly appearing on her cheeks, then frowned.

“Your mouth did not move. How did you speak without your mouth moving?”

“My mouth indeed didn’t move! Isn’t that something? I believe we will call this one simply Message. The Message weave appears to send thoughts as messages to someone. The only problem is it requires you to be able to see the receiver, so no sending Messages to Egwene.”

“What an insidious little weave, I can imagine all sorts of trouble it could cause in the White Tower. Gossipers would have a field day with it, as would bullies. I can imagine Brown Sisters who lose their voices because they only speak through messages. Once it got out to Accepted and Novices it would be used constantly once they learned how. The only boon will be that it is at least visible to those watching.” She sighed. “Let us try the next.”

This time I approached Moiraine. “I need to touch you for this one, may I please touch your chest?”

Amusement trilled in the bond and a coy smile appeared on Min’s face, her eyes mischievous. “Usually you only ask at night, but in front of your father? Tsk tsk, Rand. Seems you’re getting bold.”

I flushed, especially after Moiraine giggled, a beautiful sound that made my heart skip a beat. “Rand is quite polite about it, is he not?” That amusement fled, replaced by a sense of shame and leaving a serious face behind. “But enough of such talk. It truly is inappropriate in front of our father-in-law, Min. Yes Rand, you may lay a hand on my chest, once you have calmed yourself.”

“Oh don’t be such a spoilsport, Moiraine.”

Moiraine sniffed, but ignored Min, who rolled her eyes and nudged my father, causing him to grin.

I pressed my hand on Moiraine chest and wove the seemingly endless cord of Spirit and Fire. I knew it would change something about her, something that would make her better. It sunk into her chest, after a long minute suddenly a bright blue glow enveloped her, almost forming a shell around her, before fading into her skin.

“I feel… warm, like there's a fire burning in my soul.” Then Moiraine took a step back. “But I’m not sure what else this weave does.”

“It took a lot of saidin, about a quarter of what I am holding right now, it must do something more than simply keep you warm,” I said, confused.

“Well, I do feel particularly energized, like I could run. Is that something, oh wise male Aes Sedai?”

I ignored the sarcasm. “Perhaps its like the weave that restores stamina, but it acts on you for longer? I still can’t make heads or tails what the weave is actually doing on a fundamental level, other than changing something about you, for the better.”

“We can test it on Lan later, while you spar. Maybe that will reveal its full potential, if it truly is a weave made for intense exertions,” Moiraine decided.

“Or we can test it on me,” Tam said, a little unsure, but he bravely stepped forward. “I made some practice swords for when Rand came next, so I could test him, see where the Warder had gotten him to.”

“Excellent,” Moiraine said, clapping her hands, a smile on her face. “Yes, Rand would love to show you what he’s learned,” she offered for me. “Lan has been quite prolific with his praise. He called Rand a good beginner the other day.” I was willing to do it, but I would have liked to make the decision myself, I thought, annoyed.

I used the strange new weave on my father, and for him it glowed red, but quickly faded just like Moiraine. He began to stretch and hop in place. “This is nice, Rand. I can feel old aches and pains going away. This is wonderful!” Back and forth he bent, stretching arms and legs. Since we were going to spar, I joined him, doing the stretches Lan taught me. Tam nodded approvingly.

Soon enough we both were ready, swords held in guard, facing each other. Moiraine embraced saidar, carving a circle into the grass. Once she finished my father moved, lunging for me. The clack-clack-clack of practice swords meeting filled the air as I defended myself from an onslaught of swings and stabs as my father pushed me back. We moved faster and faster with each swing, Tam’s blows gaining the strength of a Warder’s. I did not know he was this strong, came the thought skittering across the Void, before I squashed it. Such thoughts were no help.

“You’re doing well, your footwork is sound, if basic, and you know your guards well” my father said, grinning. While he took a step back and swinging his sword casually, I lunged for his chest as Min cheered me on.

“Have to know your footing and guards when your teacher keeps ambushing you while you run.” I grunted out as our swords met. Tam laughed, retreating towards the edge of the circle, blade held casually.

“Now you attack and I’ll defend,” he said with a smirk. “I want to see how well the Warder taught you.”

It’s like he thinks this is a lesson and not a true spar, came a thought unbidden that I squashed. Ego had no place on the battlefield, Lan always said. My father was far more skilled, even with twenty years of his skills rusting. I took a deep breath, centering myself, and unleashed a flurry of strikes and feints, our blades meeting in a furious staccato rhythm, until I managed to land a hit on his right forearm. Or I would have if a red glow had not appeared. My father only grunted, but did not pause, smoothly counter-attacking. I nearly bent over from the strong blow to my stomach, but I took another wild swing and this one connected as well, and once more a red glow appeared where my blade landed and my father did not react as if I had hit him. A toothy grin appeared on my father's face and he backed away once, moving fluidly out of my range.

“I think I figured out what this weave does, Rand, and it’ll have your head spinning faster than a weathervane in a spring storm.” He said, lazily hold his sword in third guard. “You really have some miracles hidden in that mind of yours. Give me another attack, a nice heavy swing. I want to test this.”

There’s only my blade and my opponent's blade. Nothing else matters. Lan’s advice came unbidden, and I tightened my focus. Only my blade and my opponent's blade, nothing else. The cheers of Min and my father's comments faded to buzzing, and my vision seemed to narrow. Again I pressed the attack, wild chops and overhand swings, leaving myself open to retaliation, but my father did not take most opportunities, content to jaw on about something, a grin still on his face.

Once, twice, three times I landed a hit and nothing much seemed to happen but the red glow and a grunt, until on the fourth hit. It was a heavy diagonal swing at Tam that caught him on the shoulder, and the red glow appeared and then cracked like glass, dissipating into motes of red light. My father went spinning, the air knocked out of him, and fell to the ground. I paused, breathing heavily, as he slowly rose to his knees, the Oneness of the Void suddenly inundated with worry. Had I hit too hard? He is old, older than my friend’s fathers, older than Lan and he doesn’t have Lan’s Warder nature to rely on a hit from my so’shan strength. Light, I should have shifted back! The sound of wheezing laughter broke my thoughts, and the Oneness shattered with my relief, though I still held saidin.

“Boy, now that was a swing,” Tam said, as Moiraine helped him up, the prickling of goosebumps a sign she held saidar, probably to check the health of my father. Suddenly my father gasped, staring wide-eyed at Moiraine. “Light, what was that?” I let go of saidin, the world seeming to turn flat and colorless, compared to the beauty of life with the One Power, yet my wives still looked as lovely as ever. This was something I took solace in, pushing away the desire to hold saidin.

“You strained your sword arm, and the blow would have left a nasty bruise, but I fixed both. If you are done beating each other with sticks, we can discuss the weave? I found the sparring quite informative, personally.”

What energy my father had seemed to have been drained out of him, as he took his time walking over to me, using the practice sword as a walking stick. “Burn me bloody, that was something else, Rand. The speeds at which we moved? The strength that we swung our swords? Your weave is a miracle, it was like I was twenty years younger and a Warder to boot. It improved me, in strength and speed, and defended me. I could feel the hits but it was like they were hitting armor rather than body. It’s some kind of armor, your weave. Power Armor.”

“Power Armor…” I repeated, before smiling. “I like it.”

He stepped closer, pulling me into a hug. “And you, you fight like you’ve been training a year or two, still new, still sloppy, but the instinct is there, shining through. I would have trained you years ago, if I knew how well you’d take it. I’m sorry I did not prepare you,” he said quietly into my ear, before releasing me and standing next to me, arm around my shoulder.

We stood next to each other for a long moment, watching the sun setting behind the Mountains of Mist, turning the sky a brilliant orange, as I did not know what to say, my mouth dry.

“Thank you for helping me test the weave, da, but you have nothing to be sorry for,” I said finally. “I, however, am sorry to say it’s about time we head back, if we don’t want Ingtar stumbling over a Door. I’d rather not have to explain that yet.”

After a round of hugs and goodbyes to each of my wives and me. Tam left us as we passed the farmhouse, and soon after, as we walked back to the clearing Moiraine slipped her hand into mine.

“That went far better than I expected,” she murmured.

I smiled, as I raised my eyebrow at her and said, “I told you so.”

She sniffed haughtily, and did not bother replying, but she felt filled with the soft warmth of comfort and contentment, tinged with fading relief, and only a peppering of annoyance, so I grinned harder.

Min slid on my other side, our hands inches from touching. “Your father is wild, Rand,” she said with a grin, “And I had no idea you could move like that, sheepherder. I swear there were times you and him blurred, and the clacking of swords became a single roar of wood on wood. And the way he just shouldered through all those hits until the last one, that was a sight to see!” She paused, becoming a little uncomfortable. “That new weave of yours, and seeing what you’ve learned... I… Thank you for inviting me with you and Moiraine, Rand.”

My brow furrowed in confusion. “Of course I invited you. My father was meeting my wives, you had to be there. He already met Egwene, of course, but he’s known her all his life.”

“Still, thank you, I appreciate it,” she said earnestly.

Confused, I accepted the praise. Did Min think I wouldn’t include her? I reached out and took her hand, lacing our fingers together. I felt a flurry of surprise and happiness and nervousness all mixed up together and squeezed. Min squeezed back, and we didn’t let our hands go until I wove the Door.

On the way back Moiraine once more had me create the Dome, and the women retreated inside to continue Min’s lesson, much to Min’s dismay. I sat on the couch and practiced more with the airwall, crudely spelling my name with invisible walls of Air, a yellow scrawl in my vision. By the time we arrived back in the clearing, I had been able to hold four flows of Air to spell ‘R A N D’, though to Min I looked like a fool staring blindly into the air in concentration, with my tongue out.

The Door closed with nary a whisper, just thirty seconds before Ingtar and a group of Shienarans, alongside Perrin, came trooping into the clearing. We could hear them approaching, so Moiraine spent that brief time mussing my hair, and re-buttoning my jacket wrong, whispering quietly, “Look in a daze.”

I adopted a silly smile, and a vacant look that had Ingtar swallowing laughter when he caught sight of me, and Perrin blushed profusely. I wanted to protest, that I wasn’t such a lecher, but the wave of snickers and quiet murmuring amongst the soldiers, silenced by Ingtar’s quick gaze over his shoulder, killed such words in my mouth. I let the smile fall away and my eyes became sharp as I looked on.

“I believe I asked you to return before the sun begins to set, Lord Drake,” Ingtar said seriously, then smiled. “Ah, but young love does not keep time, does it? I hope you had an excellent… picnic, Rand,” he finished with a knowing gaze at the three of us.

Min blushed at my side, her bond flooding with embarrassment, and even Moiraine felt some.

“It was refreshing,” I said honestly. “Being stuck aboard a ship is not my idea of fun, but it is time we move, before the Shadow finds us once more.”

“I cannot agree more, Rand.”

We rode back in one of the boats, with soldiers manning the rowing, Moiraine snug against my side on the bench, before climbing up the rope ladder back onto the Seamaid’s Kiss. A grinning Mat met my gaze and waggled his eyebrows, and I could not help my snort of amusement as I shook my head. Mat was incorrigible.

Soon enough we sat for dinner, and instead of sitting with Moiraine, or Perrin and Mat, I found Min sitting with Loial and joined them. Min looked a little startled, another flurry of surprise trumpeted in the bond, followed by a trill of simple happiness. I should have done this days ago. Breakfast with my friends, lunch with Moiraine, and dinner with Min and Loial.

“Hey, you two. Do you mind if I eat with you both?” They sat on the deck, with plates of salt beef, cheese, and a biscuit, with a clutch of fresh grapes, some already turning slightly brown.

“Of course Rand, we were just discussing your training with Lan. It seems today she wants to know all about how the Warder trained you. I did not watch much of your training, of course, but Perrin and Egwene both talked about it at times with me, so I know much of the details,” Loial said brightly, his plate piled high with biscuits.

Min scowled at the Ogier, before turning to me with a sweet smile. “Of course you can eat with me, Rand. I am your wife.” Then her face shifted to what must be mock annoyance, because she felt nothing but pleased. “Took you long enough to ask, though.”

I set my plate down and bowed formally. “My deepest apologies for my transgression, Lady Min. As your loyal husband, I will attend to your side for as many dinners as I can, this I solemnly swear.”

Min snorted. “My loyal husband, who has two other wives. And I’m not a lady, even though the soldiers have gotten the sailors to start the nonsense.”

I released my bow and sat down next to Min, leaning against a crate. “If I am to be a lord, then all my wives shall be ladies. That’s the simple truth, unfortunately for you. And since the Shienaran’s are damn sure I am a lord, since Lord Agelmar proclaimed me such, it is something ‘downcountry’ folk like you and me will have to deal with.”

Min pouted. “That isn’t what I wished to hear, Lord Sheepherder. Can you not get them to stop?”

I laughed. “Good, you acknowledge my nobility,” I said with mock aggrandizement, then took a bite of the chewy salt beef, chasing it with a bite of cheese.

“Oh yeah,” Min said with sudden realization. “Why did you not tell me your Aes Sedai wife is setting you up to be king?! Am I going to be a queen soon?”

Loial looked confused. “King? Rand?” he asked in a low rumble, like a bumblebee the size of a dog.

I took another bite to eat, taking my time to chew it while I tried to think of a better answer than the one I had, but nothing came to me, so I told her. “Yes, Loial, Moiraine wants me to be a king. It sounds too crazy, and I’ve only known you for a couple days, Min. I didn’t want you to think I was haughty, or taking on airs. The lord stuff is already tough enough, and I cannot imagine being king. Yet I must. We must, I suppose.”

“You ‘must’?” came Min’s retort.

“The spirit told me it would happen, so when Moiraine brought it up I simply accepted it. If a spirit and an Aes Sedai ordain something will happen, why should I waste my energy on fighting it?” I asked rhetorically.

“You really must love Moiraine, if you let her drag you onto a throne that isn’t even your, and let her Warder run you ragged for hours every day. Loial told me he made you run for three hours once, that he woke you up before dawn every day, and worked you to the bone. Makes a girl wonder.”

“We have never used those words,” was my answer, and I was sticking to it. I think I loved Moiraine, but it still felt too early to say those words, and she was to be my teacher besides, not a lover. Did she love me? I could not help wondering. I think she did, in her own way. She was certainly very fond of me, and fond of my body. She liked to complain about my height then clamber all over me with wandering hands that... I shook my head as my pants tightened involuntarily. Not a topic to be thinking about right now. “Lan Gaidin is a good teacher, and I have learned much from him. When the spirit refined my body, he made it much like a Warder’s in constitution and stamina, but naturally, so he taught me with that in mind.”

Min looked curious. “And you just took it, didn’t protest or complain?”

I popped one of the mostly fresh grapes into my mouth, ignoring the ones with the largest brown stains, and shook my head. “No. Training from a Warder, from my wife’s Warder to boot? How could I say no, and how could I live with myself if I didn’t train as hard as possible, to make sure those I care about don’t die? I need to defend six women, as their Warder appointed by the Creator and the Pattern of the Age. I have to be the best I can be. And really, exercise is a good time to simply…. not think about the future and anxieties. I needed that, those first days in Fal Dara. Still do sometimes.”

Min shook her head, smiling softly at me. “You keep surprising me, Rand al’Thor. So you’re my Warder, huh? After seeing your performance today, that gives me an honest peace of mind.”

“Ah, so that is why you were asking,” interjected Loial. “You saw our budding blademaster do his work. I presume he also showed off more… exotic techniques, let us say?” Ah, Loial meant channeling.

Min caught on. “Yes, those were… surprising. Startling.”

“I have seen the results of such ‘picnics’, and I have no doubt they are quite affecting to witness. Perhaps I could join you next, Rand. For the book, you see. I’ve only seen women work with such… techniques, and that was only in the distance. I’m sure it is quite different for you, and I would love to get a first-hand account of what it is like, to… use such exotic techniques.”

“That is fine, but I will have to ask Moiraine. I cannot imagine she would deny your request, though,” I replied, content to relax with my new wife for the rest of the evening. As it would turn out, less than twenty four hours later Loial would have a chance to see me weave the One Power in the flesh, in defense of our lives.

Chapter Text

Sunday, 998 NE (June 22nd)

The deep crashing metal of the horrid, yet somehow beautiful music still echoed in my mind, causing my heart to race as I lay between Min and Moiraine on the captain’s bed, trapped by their warmth and bodies. Something bad was going to happen today, on Sunday, and soon. I just knew it.

It was before dawn when I woke Moiraine and Min up, as I got dressed, throwing on the britches and shirt I wore yesterday. “I had a music dream, Moiraine, but this one was bad, I think. Real bad. The memory it held, I was in a dark room, alone. I felt strange, and spacey, my body tingling and feeling larger than life in the darkness as I listened to unsettling, anxious music. The pounding of metal drums called to war, and a half dozen wailing screamers, a deep-voiced bittern, a full assortment of strange instruments creating vast walls of deep grinding noise. There was beauty in that song, but it was a violent beauty. Something’s going to happen today and soon, something dangerous.”

“What? What are you on about, sheepherder,” Min mumbled tiredly, her face in a pillow. Moiraine was already up in her nightdress, gathering my armor, not even questioning me. I could have kissed her for it. I put my arms up, and she pulled the gambeson over my head.

“A Dream, sister-wife.” That forbidden word woke Min right up. Moiraine adjusted the chainmail shirt overtop the cream gambeson, with its sinuous scarlet and gold dragon over my heart.

“I told you not to call me that,” Min grumbled, sitting up. Moiraine tightened my cuisse, first, then I slipped into the greaves.

“It got you up, did it not? Now dress. Rand had a probable prophetic dream and believes violence is soon.” After the greaves were done, I stepped into the chainmail leggings, first my right leg, then my left.

A high whistling sound came from outside, getting louder by the second and the night sky outside the tiny cabin window got brighter. A chill briefly prickled my skin, and the ship shook as if the Creator had lifted it up and set it back down again, shouts and screams echoing through the night as the boat rocked unsteadily. I put on my faulds and tassets, Moiraine working quickly to help me into it, while Min still sat in bed, hair mussed and a worried look on her face.

“That was saidar, I felt the weave before it landed. If I had to guess, Fire.” Moiraine bit out, as worry and fear made themselves known in the bond.

My thoughts raced. “Black Ajah or Forsaken?” Moiraine didn’t deign to answer as I belted my sword.

At those words Min roughly threw her clothes on, belting a handful of knives to her side, while I helped Moraine into a stout and sturdy riding dress, doing the back laces while Moiraine dug through the small dresser for something. Lan burst inside, not bothering to knock, already armored and sword at his side. Moiraine felt relief in seeing him, as did I. Lan would know what was going on.

“Trollocs on both banks of the Erinin, and a hastily made tangle of dead trees and broken ships blocks the river. It is a trap, set by someone more clever than a Myrddraal with a fist of Trollocs, presumably the enemy channeler. Fireball came from the east bank, took out a swath of the foredeck.”

“Prepare the things we will need, Lan Gaidin, especially my angreal bag. It seems we must take to the west bank, to the Braem Woods. I will alert the captain. Rand,” She turned to me, eyes serious, bond worried. The boat shook again, this time in the rear and a thunderclap echoed. Lightning. “We will need you out there, in your so’shan and channeling. Do not worry about hiding your abilities, but keep the so’gaighael secret. If any Forsaken is about today, they will know that you should not have it so soon. The worse comes to worst, we could simply leave these poor sailors behind and take a Door out to the Waygate at Caemlyn, or even your father’s farm. You must survive and the Forsaken cannot know the full extent of your abilities. That is what matters most.”

Determination filled her voice, and regretful resignation brimmed in the bond, intertwined with worry and fear. I made to speak when another high whistle and a third shaking interrupted me, we all heard a long tearing sound and a thump that rocked the boat a fourth time, knocking Min to her feet. Lan quickly helped her up.

Moiraine pushed me as I stood still, stuck just listening, eyes wide. “Go, Rand! Clear the west bank! We will try to land and support you.”

I raced out of the cabin, pushing past Lan, and up the stairs, pulling on the energy beneath my skin to transform into the so’shan, antlers growing from my temples and my teeth sharpening, my hair, streaked with gold, spilling down my back, and my fingers turning to reptilian claws. I could sense the shadowspawn now, with the enhanced senses the Lord Form gave me, like rancid oil on my skin and cold in my bones. I could tell there were hundreds of them, on both banks. I stepped out into utter chaos, a fire dominating the prow of the Seamaid’s Kiss and the mast, torn in half and smoking, had crushed several sailors and Shienarans underneath it, their cries and shouts filling the air. Others attempted to free them without much luck, while most Shienarans gathered amidship, arming and armoring themselves. Whoever had attacked had broken the rudder with that lightning bolt, and the ship was stuck turning slowly, the wheel spinning uselessly while the captain called out exhortations to terrified sailors.

I acted with little thinking and reached for saidin, filling myself of its power, the Oneness coming in the chaos, if not easy, then without much difficulty. I wove Air into a simple hand to grasp the mast, and after gently lifting it high enough to free any living soul, and not hurt anyone else, I whipped the broken mast at the west bank, tearing a furrow through the ground and smashing dozens Trollocs, sending them flying. In response, a bolt of lightning speared towards me out of the cloudless night sky, the full moon hanging low in the predawn.

Time slowed to molasses, and a foreign instinct took over me. I moved, planting my feet solidly on the deck and holding out my right hand above my head with my pointer and middle extended like I was going to touch the lightning. I did not know why I was doing this, but something inside me screamed at me to do so. That I must, to survive. The actinic bolt of blue hit my fingers, and seemed to be sucked in, painfully flowing through channels I did not even know my body had. It traveled up my arm and through my shoulder, and it did not hurt exactly when it hit my heart, but I felt an almost painful pressure—as if I had eaten too much and my stomach were ripe to pop—throughout my body. The lightning passed through my heart, suddenly feeling warm and comforting rather than pain, but the pressure felt about to burst and I blindly pointed with my left hand, my fingers managing to point towards the east bank of the River Erinin.

Time resumed as a bolt of polychromatic lightning shot out of my fingers, passing through nearby sailors and soldiers with nary a shock, and as it crossed the river in a flash it spread out like searching fingers amongst the Trollocs, leaving death in its wake. After three long seconds it was over, the ship was silent and staring wide-eyed at me. A quick application of Fire pulled the heat out of the burning ship and into the surrounding water, killing the flames and creating a mist that quickly rose to engulf our ship. One by one, men near me knelt in supplication, or prayed fervently, eyeing me with fear and trepidation.

In that quiet mist, the sound of Trolloc battlecries echoing in the night, a man proclaimed, “Lord Drake is the Dragon Reborn!” I did not know which man spoke, only that he started a rush of additional proclamations from sailor and soldier alike that knelt around me, washing over the boat in a wave of revelation. Nothing would ever be the same again, came the thought, sliding like a pebble across the icy Void. I felt distant from myself, unmoored.

“The Dragon!”

“al'Thor, al'Thor!”

“Lord Dragon!”

“The Dragon Reborn, ‘master of the lightnings, rider of the storm’,” quoted Masema—presumably from prophecy—eyes fevered, a look of concentration on his face as he watched me. Uno merely stared, his one eye inscrutable. I could not see Mat and Perrin, so they must still be downstairs but even they must be able to hear the shouts. Light, where was Moiraine when I needed her? The Oneness in me quaked when anxiety and fear I had been holding back rushed forward like dog released on a hunt.

I just…. I just conducted lightning through my body, I thought, incredulous. A channeler, maybe Black Ajah or maybe Forsaken just tried to kill me with that lightning and it went right through me with nary a shock! And now everyone knows. The secret is out. Light, what will Moiraine think?

I did not know what to say to the men that looked at me with such fearful and fervor'd eyes, that cried out my name and title, so I moved my attention passed the kneeling men to those I could help, the poor wounded that cried out for assistance or mercy.

“I can Heal,” I called out, silencing the proclamations. “I can Heal any wounded.”

The first man that I reached had half his arm burnt, a horrid looking wound that made my stomach turn even with the Void.

“I can Heal you, if you accept,” I told him, and he nodded jerkily.

“Yes, please, by the Light please Heal me!” the man begged, a thin man, with an overly large forehead, and a small, broken nose. His eyes were teary and his nose running, as I bent over him. One hand on the clear skin above the wound, one on his forehead, and I worked the Healing weave into the injury. It was a mixture of dozen flows of Spirit, Air, and Water, sinking into the man like water on dry sand. The man gasped, and before the eyes of those watching us, his skin seemed to clear up and heal, until nothing remained.

The man stood and hugged me, ecstatic. “Light bless you, m'lord. I don’t even care if you’re the Dragon, light bless you.”

I quickly moved on to the next closest injured, a man with a broken leg. A sailor helped me set the leg right before I Healed it. Apparently there are some dockside horror stories about young Aes Sedai Healing broken limbs wrong with pretty gruesome consequences. Only a Tar Valon sailor would know of such a thing, I thought.

Then another man, with a horrible burn on his face, I knew I had to use all Five Elements to restore his sight, and I did it, somehow. The information seemed to just bubble up in my head. Not the why, but the what, the doing of the act seemed almost like remembering something I long forgot, rather than learning something new. It was a disturbing sensation, but I locked those thoughts down and kept my focus on the next injury, one after another.

Each one I got faster, more sure of what to do, even if I still did not know why what I did worked, and Moiraine appeared by my side suddenly, joining me in Healing.. The last injury I did was a Shienaran soldier whose foot needed to be amputated from being crushed. With how shattered the bone must be, I didn’t dare risk trying to Heal it. After confirmation that the soldier wanted an amputation, I sliced a man’s leg off three inches above the ankle. The only reason I was not panicking was the Oneness, unsteady, but still holding, and that the blood stopped quickly as I instantly began to Heal him, new skin growing over the wound. I was not used to seeing such things up close, yet. I dreaded being familiar with them, but I knew it would come.

“Lord Dragon,” she said, her voice calm but carrying over the murmurs and the distant shouts and cries of Trollocs. “Now would be an opportune time to clear the beach for our landing. Don't you think, dear?”

The crowd watched the exchange eagerly, or with fear. An Aes Sedai and a man who could channel, stuck on the same boat. It was a nightmare for some, for most. Yet the sight of me and her Healing seemed to have calmed several more fearful types, who viewed me now with a wary reverence. Standing there, looking up for the first time in several minutes, it was then that I noticed something.

“I am finished Healing, Moiraine Sedai, but something is wrong with the boat.”

The ship was drifting slowly with the mast gone, and rudder, the current carrying us closer to the blockage. That wouldn't do. I would protect everyone. Regardless of whether they thought me second only to the Dark One or the Creator himself, I would protect them. Even if I did not know how to be the Dragon Reborn, I could protect them. I had the power. I couldn’t speak to the words yet, couldn’t tell them I was the Dragon Reborn, but I could show it once more, in my actions. Show them a Dragon Reborn that protects.

“The ship's going to hit the blockage. I intend to change that,” I finished, ignoring the fervor my proclamation caused.

“Rand, we do not—,” Moiraine began protesting, but I tuned her out. I did not have time.

I pulled on saidin and forced a massive thread of Water to carve a new current into the river, directing the Seamaid’s Kiss onto a new course of beaching itself. The ship rocked, shifting and groaning, as the rudder finished snapping under the pressure of the water jet that pushed the ship towards the shore. Shouts and cries came with each movement, each crude adjustment I made. I ignored them, concentrating on the current I wove. I could not allow it to tear the ship apart. The ship shuddered and rocked, wood moaning but after a long minute, I finished my task, I had set the ship on course for the west bank.

“Now I can go,” I said with a grimace. I spoke louder, to the crew and the Shienarans. “The boat will beach itself soon, probably roughly. Prepare yourselves, I will clear the shadowspawn as is my duty as a chinnar’veren, whatever else I am.”

More shouts of “Lord Dragon” and “Lord Drake” and “al’Thor” filled the morning air, to my pleasure and my distaste. Some part of me wanted to relish in the calls, but I just couldn’t. I thought I would have more time, time to even be just Moiraine’s Warder and a chinnar’veren. I thought I had more time before I had to change even more. Apparently not.

Moiraine pulled me down and gave me a kiss on the cheek, causing whistles and cheers from some sailors even as others stared bleakly at the hundreds of shadowspawn that littered the banks of the Erinin, jeering and shouting. “Survive,” she whispered softly, before turning to address the crowd. “We face Black Ajah and shadowspawn, seeking our deaths.” Gasps and cries of fear filled the air came from the sailors, the Shienarans silent but shocked to hear an Aes Sedai admitting to the Black Ajah aloud. “The Lord Dragon is going to cut a hole for us to disembark, when…”

I stopped paying attention as I swiftly wove a Gentle Feather, tying a web of green Earth and white Spirit ropes around my gambeson, faulds, and cuisse, and took a running leap over the wooden rail. The circle of yellow Air kept me floating while I sped across the water, waiting to unsheathe the Power-wrought sword my father gave me. As I got close enough to drop amongst the Trollocs that littered the western bank of the Erinin, I drew the blade and infused it with a thread of Fire and a tongue of my sacred flame; the blade turned a bright opalescent, shining like the sun in the dark. I released the weave holding me up, as I hastily executed a Boar Rushing Down The Mountain onto a surprised Trolloc that looked like an unholy mix of eagle and man, a beak erupting from a pale human face, and tufts of feathers amongst the matted hair. Most Trollocs I could see lacked helmets, and some even lacked armor. Folly, came the errant thought.

The blade sliced through the Trolloc vertically, leaving a steaming corpse melting like wax, and I was on the move. A Spirit Sword turned swiftly round my waist and sliced the closest shadowspawn with its spectral blade, completely bypassing the armor and protection. I moved onto the next Trolloc in front of me, a particularly rattish beastman who was covered in a patchy coat of hair and had a naked pink tail like a large worm. My left hand held out and flames erupted from it, making short work of the Trolloc. Roast ratman smells horrible, came an inappropriate thought, skittering like a spider.

I squashed it, and focused, turning the Flaming Hand on more Trollocs, the smell of roast flesh and hair and blood filling the air, a horrid stench I ignored. It could not touch me in the Oneness, nothing could touch me in the Oneness. With my right hand I defended against attacks with a blade that cut through weapons and armor as if they were made of paper, leaving sprays of molten metal with each blow and melting shadowspawn where it touched them. I fought like this for a time, killing and killing and killing, steadily cutting my way away from Moiraine and Min and cutting myself some breathing room. Nothing will touch them.

Once I had cleared enough space I channeled, my blade sheathed once more. A torrent of lightning poured from my right hand, killing the closest Trollocs and branching out amongst them, sparking on the black armor some wore, roasting them inside their metal shell. With my left I wove a beam of Fire that I swept back and forth across the ranks of shadowspawn, though the Myrddraal that wasn’t trapped beneath the mast twisted and fled my wrath, taking to the forest where I dare not use fire.

I glanced behind me, and saw Trollocs that had retreated to the bank from me, instead of the forest. For those I reached out once more with a beam of fire and roasted them, one row after another falling. For those that survived I used a new weave I had yet to touch, stringing a dozen low flows of Air laced with Fire, and calling lightning down on the Trollocs, causing whatever semblance of cohesion they had to collapse, and some to flee pass me into the sparse beginnings of the Braem Woods, only to die as spikes of earth erupted from the ground, spearing them through.

Soon enough I heard shouting chants and calls of “For the Dragon”, and “The Light of Shienar” filled the air as sailors and soldiers both joined battle, having evacuated the ship swiftly, every boat filled with armed men. I watched sailors armed with boarding axes and cutlass and short spears battle beastmen shirtless, alongside Shienaran soldiers in armor. Mat and Perrin were fighting within the mix of men, both unarmored. Too close. A scythe of Air went spinning through the Trollocs closest to them, slicing them through, black, putrid blood spraying everywhere. What survivors were left, rather than face me, met their death to boarding axes and longsword. I pulled deeper on saidin, filling life fill me again, my nostrils burning with the scent of taint-smoke, and reached out to burn every single surviving Trolloc. It was over. Whatever shadowspawn was left alive on this side of the river was in the woods, fleeing.

A few minutes later a half dozen Shienaran soldiers circled me in a guard as I sat on a stump—feeling tired from my use of the One Power—looking over the field of Trolloc corpses, some still burning and smoldering, lighting up the pre-dawn dull orange. I glanced at the river, and saw Lan approaching, the ship beached high and tilted diagonally, Shienarans and sailors swiftly moving like ants to the instruction of Moiraine, who had taken over from the captain.

And then I saw across the river, the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. She was slender and tall, and gorgeous, in a silver-white dress that seemed to glow in the moonlight. She had large dark eyes, her skin was creamy, pale and smooth and her hair fell in waves of raven-black locks. Her chest was bountiful, seeming to spill out of her dress, and her waist startlingly tiny, her curves abundant and obvious. She was the most extraordinary woman I had ever seen. Even a mile or two away, I could see her clearly in the pre-dawn with my so’shan eyes, standing near a Myrddraal, gazing at me. All I could do was stare back. Forsaken or Black Ajah? came the thought with glacial slowness.

She made a casual gesture and lightning once more came out of the cloudless sky. I met it instinctually my right hand, conducting the lightning through to my heart, and somehow gracing the lightning with the Flame Imperishable, before releasing it from my left hand to travel across the river and amongst the shadowspawn once more. Why are my thoughts so slow? I wondered as I melted Trollocs and Myrddraal alike, killing hundreds with the death of the Fades. This seemed to frustrate her, as I could see the pout on her face and the exasperated flounce of her arms shaking her chest.

I do not know if I can do that, kill such a beauty. While she beckoned to me I stood still, considering, my thoughts moving glacially, just staring at her as her smile grew, a knowing smile that spoke of secrets she knew that I did not. =I could see it perfectly, and it was Egwene's smile, a smile I remember seeing in the memories, and one that has graced the life I’ve lived since I woke up in the ashes of a dead body. That broke me from whatever reverie held me. It did not belong on this monster's face. Black Ajah or Forsaken, a woman still, but that would not protect her now, not from the Dragon. My anger felt extraordinarily cold and my thoughts moved in a strange, clinical fashion, crisp and distant like stars on high. I wore a snarl on my face.

Hand and arm movement was almost a requirement for channeling most weaves, it seemed to me, and I had never heard of a crippled Aes Sedai. The range of a weave is based on how accurately the channeler can see into the distance, whether a hundred feet or a hundred miles. Inevitably the average human eye just stopped making out details and channeling stops as well. I could make out every detail if I focused with my so’shan eyes, and I could weave a blade of air to slice those delicate hands in an instant, forever marring her ability to channel. As I reached for the weave again, and formed the hazy blade above her like a sickle moon, Lan shook my shoulder. I blinked and the cold rage that had engulfed me faded away like morning mist, turning into confusion. Wolves howled, triumphant in the early dawn, the sun just over the horizon. Soldiers and sailors sat standing in clumps and sitting amongst the shadowspawn corpses, some eying me avidly, others warily. I could hear my name on their lips, Rand al’Thor, the Dragon Reborn. It was like time had skipped forward a few minutes.

I had been just about to cripple a woman, for simply wearing a similar smile to Egwene. Why? A flash of silver caught my eye as I watched the beauty step through a door, waving a hand as she disappeared, that stolen smile on her lips. I snarled. Black Ajah or Forsaken, she knew how to open Doors and that made her dangerous. She would be back. I had to… Lan’s hand squeezed tight, interrupting my thoughts once more. Uno and the other five Shienaran soldiers stood a pace back, some seemed carefully put together, while others stared wide-eyed. Uno was unruffled and stared at me with his single eye, curious.

“Got a bit of anger in you, boy?”

“I'm sorry, I just…” I trailed off, unable to find the words to explain. Why had I gotten so angry so quickly?

“Rand,” Lan said, his usual gruff voice tinged with a hint of… something. “Wolves must have killed the last Myrddraal, so it's time to move. You can stare at beautiful Forsaken later.”

“You are certain she is Forsaken?” I asked, suddenly worried. I had let a Forsaken go. I could have ended another one. Made the world safer. But she was a woman, I told myself. Could I truly do it? Could I risk not killing her? Part of me said yes.

“Moiraine Sedai said she was stronger than even Nynaeve. That she toyed with us, scales.” Uno was not unruffled anymore, and those that heard nearby looked suddenly worried. I ignored their reaction, stuck on my own strange one.

“I was about to cut her hands off, Lan.” I said, still astounded by my bloodthirsty reaction, and how easy it felt to.... And at the same time, even more terrifying to me, I felt a sense of justification. She was a monster, responsible for myriad crimes, against the world and the Creator.

“Oh, crippling her ability to channel. Vicious and cruel, but undeniably effective.” Lan said, nodding his head as he led me to a rapidly approaching Min and Moiraine.

“What did you do to him, Warder?” Min protested. “He feels awful.” Lan snorted dismissively and did not answer.

Moiraine frowned at her. “Why do you assume this is Lan’s fault, dear sister?”

“I was about to cut her hands off,” I blurted out, not wanting the situation to boil into an argument. “Because she wore Egwene’s smile. It wasn’t hers to wear, and I was going to remove it, permanently.” I started to look away, not wanting to see their faces, but I steeled myself and faced them. Min, her confused and worried eyes looked me over for any injury and when she didn’t find any, she turned back to Lan, annoyed. Moiraine simply approached me and took my hand in hers, giving me a smile of reassurance.

“What is he on about?” Min asked Lan.

“The female Forsaken.” The surrounding soldiers shuddered, as did Min, her face turning pale. Moiraine squeezed my hand tighter “He was going to hurt her, maim her. I interrupted him before he could finish the weave, unfortunately.” Lan says succinctly and with honest regret. Light, Lan wants me to have done it! Perhaps I should have.

Gently, Moiraine spoke, and if it were anyone else, it would have been pandering, but I could feel her in the bond, feel her certainty and serenity. “We are at war, Rand. A war for Creation itself. She is a soldier as much as you are, and fighting in war has consequences. I would care for you just as much, regardless of whether you crippled a Forsaken, or a Black Ajah, or even a misguided Red Sister of mine. You did nothing wrong and there is nothing for you to worry about.”

“But I was so angry,” I said, trying to explain why this moment had unsettled me so much. “But it wasn’t bright anger. It was cold, and cunning. And the worst part of it, is some part of me wishes I had done it. It sickens me, and yet, part of me thinks it the right thing to do. To end the reign of terror that horrid woman will surely inflict. Am I a monster?”

A hearty swat on my behind startled me, and I made a yelp that caused a few chuckles. “Did you not listen to a word she said?” Min said, shaking her hand out. “I swear, men don’t listen to the words we say and then complain we’re ‘confusing’. Of course you are no monster. You’re grossly over-analyzing this entire situation. She tried to kill you, you trying to kill her back is okay. Got it, woolhead? Or do I need to clean your ears out?”

Min’s sincere words, accompanied by some physical reinforcement, broke me from my twisting thoughts. My cheeks were red and my rear throbbed, but I couldn’t help smiling. I may be the Dragon Reborn, but Min Farshaw wasn’t about to put up with any nonsense. And she was right. Moiraine had already reassured me, I shouldn’t need more than the sincere words of a woman who stands by my side. The Forsaken was the enemy, regardless of gender. Getting angry at her for wearing Egwene’s smile broke me from whatever had slowed my mind, whatever strange weave the Forsaken had entrapped me with earlier, so it was a good thing, really.

After a long moment with my thoughts, I turned and gave Min a hug. She seemed surprised, but put her arms around me just the same, squeezing me tight. What would I do without these women? Probably flail helplessly. “Thank you, Min. You broke me from my spiraling thoughts. I needed that, but maybe next time? Don’t slap my behind in public. A simple punch would do, honestly, and is much less… emasculating.” Uno snorted behind me.

Min laughed as she left my arms. “Oh sheepherder, you are too much sometimes. You truly are unlike any man I’ve known,” she said with a soft smile, feeling like a warm blanket in the bond.

Moiraine moved in for a hug of her own, and I squeezed her tight, and bent down, drawing her into a kiss that lasted far too briefly. Moiraine’s cheeks were slightly pink when she left my arms, and turned to Min. “Our Dragon is unlike any other man, and he has a habit of getting lost in thought. It is simply something we must tend to, when his thoughts turn dark and sour, dear sister-wife. But now that he is back with us, we can sit and discuss our next move.”

Min groaned. “Is this something I need to stay for?”

I looked from my wives to find the Shienaran had formed a circle around our group, facing outwards, while sailors unloaded another horse from the crane alongside a couple Shienaran lancers including Ingtar—who flinched when he met my gaze—and Mat and Perrin who were helping brush down and settle the newly arrived horses. More sailors traveled to and from the beached ship, climbing ladders, and loading packs with supplies. Loial stood awkwardly outside the circle of Shienaran lancers, a question in his gaze, his cheeks tinged red.

I latched onto that like a lifeline, not wanting to deal with planning yet, and waved Loial in, saying, “Come on, let Loial through.” The soldiers parted smoothly and Loial stepped gingerly into the circle, taking up most of the remaining space.

“Uh, yes, Lord Dragon, I wished—”

“It’s Rand for my friends, not Lord Dragon,” I interrupted, and Loial had an inordinately pleased expression.

“Well, I did not wish to presume, Rand, now that you are revealing the secret. You… are… revealing the secret, aren’t you?” Loial looked suddenly horrified at the surrounding soldiers and sputtered. “Light have mercy, Rand, if you aren’t I surely did not mean to reveal such a thing—”

I had to interrupt once again. “Loial, it is fine, you’ve spoken nothing wrong. I will be speaking on that subject tonight when we make camp.” Moiraine raised an eyebrow. “Before we leave, actually,” I amended. She smiled, pleased. “Was that what you wished to ask, my friend?”

Loial stood sheepishly, and rubbed the back of his large head, ears drooping, “I have found I’ve plumb forgotten, in my needless worry about revealing secrets. But I did wish to thank you. I saw what you did, to save the boat from sure destruction. And how you Healed those men. It seems like every week I spend with you, I face at least one adventure, and this is surely one for the books. Conquering lightning and fighting a fist of Trollocs by yourself, healing the wounded and saving the ship from crashing into a trap. You certainly have turned out to be a hero, truly, and I am lucky to have met you, Rand al’Thor. And it will make ever so good a chapter in my book!”

I blushed at the compliments. “Thank you for your kind words, Loial. They soothe my mood.”

“No, thank you!” said the Ogier, smiling broadly.

Moiraine spoke up then. “Is there anything else you wish to speak of, Loial?”

“Oh.” Loial’s face fell, his eyebrows drooping and his ears lay back as he spoke an apology. “I am so sorry Moiraine Sedai, I should not have approached whatever private conversation you were having. The Elders were right, I need to temper my patience. I could have waited, and now I lost the question whose answer I sought.” He shook his shaggy head. “I shall go assist with the supplies, a man of my strength is surely to be a help on the beach, rather than stumble once more over my tongue.”

Moiraine reached out to put a tiny hand on his tree-trunk arms. “You did nothing wrong, Loial, but if you wish to assist the sailors, I’m sure they would find your help a Light-blessed gift. Know you are always welcome to join us in conversation, in the future. Do not let this moment poison you.”

Loial’s drooping eyebrows raised, and his ears stood straight, tufts vibrating. He smiled a smile that near tore his face in half as he spoke. “Thank you, Moiraine Sedai. Your words are a balm to my heart.” And then he left, leaving only Lan and Moiraine and Min. Well, and the soldiers that surrounded us, each facing outward in guard, but for Uno, who had taken to standing near me, his hand on his hilt, scanning back and forth.

Once he was gone, Moiraine turned back to me. “What do you believe we should do, Rand? The ship is beached, and we are on the outskirts of scattered forest and plains that will soon become the Braem Woods, a primeval and dense forest. We have twenty-six good horses to carry supplies, sixteen healthy and able Shienaran soldiers, and twenty-three sailors. The enemy has the capability of Traveling, and we know not what reinforcements lie between us and the nearest village of Jurene, which lies across the Erinnin. The Tar Valon Road is twelve to fifteen days west, and another week before we’d reach the border of Andor. We don’t have the supplies to make it that far.”

I took minutes to consider the situation, as Moiraine stood patiently watching me, curiosity in the bond. This was obviously some kind of test. “Since I can channel,”—I could see soldiers visibly tense—“openly with the sailors and soldiers, my first instinct it to use a Door and go somewhere. Whitebridge would be the best, we could open a Door late at night, and arrive in the docks or the square. From there we hire a new boat, and travel down the Arinelle straight to Illian. The Shadow probably does not know we can use Doors like they obviously can, and it would throw them off our scent. In that scenario we’d probably have to leave the sailors behind, and maybe even the horses, and I doubt the sailors will be able to keep their mouths shut about me, which is dangerous. We could also open a door to Caemlyn, and try traveling the Ways,”—a small gasp came from a shorter soldier—“or even just a long month or two of travel overland to Illian, but I think Whitebridge is the best. Certainly the fastest.”

Moiraine replied with infuriating calm, and disappointment, to dismiss my entire plan. “We cannot use a Door. We do not know what minions of the Shadow are watching, nor if they can track where the Door goes. We do not simply want the Forsaken to follow us.”

Annoyed, I pondered that. Wouldn’t being able to move far closer to Illian trump the worry of them following us? “Not even to use it to gather supplies? Especially if you teach it to Verin Sedai, she could take some Shienarans with her, she’s probably been to plenty of cities and could get us supplies from across the Westlands.”

“And leave the soldiers and sailors defenseless against a Forsaken or a potential Black Ajah,”—an intake of breath of Uno is the only sign he made the connection—“with our method of Traveling?” she remarked, whip quick.

I frowned at that. “We have to trust her with some things. You expect us to march through the woods until we reach Jurene, and presumably fight whatever shadowspawn lurks between us and there, losing more men. That seems foolish, Moiraine Sedai.”

Some soldiers tensed at my less than kind words to the Aes Sedai.

“We must ascertain whatever forces lurk for us—for they lurk for us, do not doubt that—and make sure they do not learn we can Travel in our own, slow way. Nor can they find out that you are already a so’gaighael, the Battlebeast Form, without even two months of being a chinnar’veren, a sheer impossibility that could only be a miracle of the Creator. The more Forsaken that are killed, the greater our chances, but for you to succeed they must think you as weak and ignorant as possible, for as long a possible. We must be patient, Rand. We cannot spoil our advantages.”

Anger flared, my frown turning to nearly a sneer. This time I wouldn’t just meekly follow her plan. I had major disagreements with it. Getting closer to Illian was what mattered most. I could fight off any Trolloc attack that came for us, easily. “No, Moiraine. No. I won’t follow just follow your plan because you say so. I think you are wrong, and to let more soldiers die would spoil any advantage me have. A Forsaken hunts us, and brought hundreds of Trollocs to cover both sides of the river. Who knows how many lurk in the forest to hunt us? We should not simply walk into the trap when we can leave, I will not let these men die for no reason! We take a Door to somewhere, drop off the sailors, and head south for Illian. Light, you could Door them Tar Valon this very evening!” I finished, my voice raised.

All the soldiers tensed. I could see them standing rigid as they listened to our argument.

Moiraine’s voice was calm, but her eyes flashed at my tone. “I called you Lord Dragon in front of those men. They are bound to us now, as tightly as they can be. If any rumor of a Dragon, false or not, aided by Aes Sedai—especially with my description!—and the mention of Shienaran soldiers, any rumor at all, makes itself known in Tar Valon, the Tower will hear it and know exactly who we are. The Amyrlin Seat will have to disavow me, I will be stripped of my shawl and sentenced to stilling. They cannot leave our side. Not yet, Rand, not unless they are somewhere no rumor will spread.”

I had an epiphany. “Then drop them off in Emond’s Field. Tar Valon won’t hear a thing. I’ll announce myself to the village if I have to, and we can pay Master al’Vere to take them in. We can pick them up when we reach Illian. I will not have us slog through some dark forest, falling one by one to raids of Trollocs and Halfmen, or caught in a conflagration by the Forsaken, unable to flee. I will not, Moiraine,” I said fiercely.

“I will have to discuss it with the captain. There are more options, Rand. We could move ahead and leave the sailors to make their way to Jurene—”

“Not happening,” I interrupted.

Moiraine gave me a haughty stare and waited for me to speak more, then continued as if I had said nothing. “Or we could use the Door, like you said, to travel to Whitebridge and hire two boats to Illian. That should not be a difficulty this time of year, and that would keep any rumors about you to towns along the Arinelle. Not ideal, but not catastrophic,though the Tower would hear sooner, rather than later. Or we could try leaving them in the Two Rivers, like you said. They will, again, likely spread rumors of you, but with merchants only visiting twice a year those rumors will simply have to fester in the downcountry until after you will be assuredly be king. The problem would be if they caused trouble, but I think a few stern words from Lord Dragon, and an occasional visit will see to that.”

I thought on the matter. They’ll be safer in Emond’s Field, safer than they would be riding in a boat with me. I didn’t count the dead, but there was at least five. At least five sailors dead, plus the four Shienaran dead, and it has yet to be two weeks since we left. I couldn’t risk more death on my hands, not yet. “Emond’s Field. We’ll be taking them to Emond’s Field,” I decided. “It’s safer. The sailors were just trying to take us to Illian, they weren’t bound up in the Horn or this Dragon Reborn shit, they do not need to be in danger anymore. I don’t care if Emond’s Field knows I am the Dragon, or a male channeler, and it is better rumors stay bottled up. Less chance of a Darkfriend hearing them.”

Moiraine frowned. “Unless there are Darkfriends amongst the crew, or in the Two Rivers. But that is something I cannot fix. Darkfriends lurk everywhere.” She took a deep breath, and said in a formal tone, “Very well, I will follow your lead, Lord Dragon. But you will inform the men, let them know they are to be sent to the countryside to wait, instead of going on a grand adventure beside the Dragon Reborn.” A trill of amusement fluttered, amongst vexed frustration and a clear note of pride. I did not know why she felt so proud, I hadn’t noticed it until after we had started arguing, but it was there.

Hours later, every sailor and soldier wore a pack stuffed with supplies and clothing, and each horse wore a saddlebag or two, with no riders. We had assembled off the beach, about two miles inland in a large meadow brimming with wildflowers. It was late morning as I stood in so’shan before the crowd, my long mane of scarlet and gold blowing in the warm summer breeze. I still wore my armor, covered in soot and Trolloc blood, and I thought I cut an imposing figure when I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the river earlier. Moiraine Sedai had ordered silence and everyone stood, waiting for me to speak. Loial was nearby, notebook open and pen in hand, a writing tray set on a barrel of vinegar peppers that gave the air a spicy scent, and Mat fidgeted in the front row next to a solemn Perrin. Beside me stood Min on my left and Moiraine on my right. I took a deep breath, and spoke.

“My name is Rand al’Thor and I am the Dragon Reborn,” I said with a note of finality. Even though they knew, had to know since an Aes Sedai confirmed it, gasps and exclamations still filled the air. I raised my hand, and slowly they all died down, though scattered men throughout the crowd would not look at me, while others gazed fervently with anticipation. “I know this to be true, because a spirit of the Creator granted me revelation, about my past, my place and my future. I was born on Dragonmount, as the Prophecies demand, born to an Aiel Maiden of the Spear, and raised by a man of the Two Rivers, which was once ancient Manetheren. I am marked, with heron and dragon. The Dark One seeks my end. Thrice the servants of Ba’alzamon attack us, and thrice we have defeated them. With me at your side, we shall continue to defeat them, until Tarmon Gai’dan and beyond. Do not be afraid. Trust in me, and in each other.”

Moiraine took over, quoting the Karatheon Cycle.

“ ‘And he who shall be born of the Dawn, born of the Maiden, according to Prophecy.
On the slopes of Dragonmount shall he be born, born of a maiden wedded to no man.
He will be of the ancient blood, and raised by the old blood.’

And ‘twice and twice shall he be marked,
Twice to live, and twice to die.
Once the heron, to set his path.
Twice the heron, to name him true.
Once the Dragon, for remembrance lost.
Twice the Dragon, for the price he must pay.’ ”

Her words rung out over the crowd, some nodding and others looking confused, muttering quietly to their neighbor. “These are the words of the Prophecies of the Dragon, words all must heed to recognize the Dragon Reborn. Rand al’Thor, the man standing before you, fulfills these words. This I swear as an Aes Sedai of the White Tower.”

She lifted my arm and pushed down my chainmail and quilted gambeson to reveal the heron mark and the dragon tattoo.

“He is marked by a heron, and this tattoo, it is not of a drake, like Rand claimed before. Nor is he a drake shapeshifter, for a dragon marks him. He is the Dragon Reborn and a dragon chinnar’veren, a chosen warrior of the Creator. I have verified his birth with his father, the man who found him squalling as a babe on Dragonmount, on that third day of battle, before King Laman was killed and the Aiel retreated. Rand al’Thor is the Dragon Reborn! Praise him or wail and gnash your teeth, it makes no difference to the truth, that the Last Battle looms and he is our only hope of survival.”

I stared at her for a moment, at that final line, before inspiration struck. Grandly, I spoke, my arms wide. “The spirit which called themself the Iridescent Flame, spoke a prophecy for me, a Foretelling for the Dragon Reborn. I will recite it for you now, in full.”

I quoted, “ ‘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.’ ”

“These two women you see before you, Min Farshaw, and Moiraine Damodred, are my wives by prophecy, a lover to care for me, and a teacher to guide me down my path. They are my dragonwives, and with them at my side I will be certain to save the world and usher in a new Age, a better Age, an Age of Light.”

This drew shouts and cries, of “Lord Dragon!” and “al’Thor!”, from the crowd. I will admit that it felt pretty good. I basked for a long moment, before my stomach curdled at the thought of the dead soldiers and sailors, and the injured ones I Healed. There would be more in the future, far more. Briefly I morbidly wondered how many of these men would survive until the Last Battle, until I shook my head of such thoughts, focusing back on the present.

Moiraine stepped forward, and the cries died down. “Prepare for a long journey, a dangerous journey. Darkfriends and shadowspawn seek us. We seek to Travel with the One Power, first to Emond’s Field in the Two Rivers, then Whitebridge in Andor, to seek passage downriver to Illian. Some of you will be left behind, some will die, and some will flee in the night, our burden too heavy for them to carry. I implore you, for your own safety, to keep your mouth locked tight. Darkfriends lay in every town, carrying whispers to their leaders, and any lose lips will mean lives lost and the Last Battle in jeopardy. They will not hesitate to torture and kill you for all you know. Prepare your hearts, for you are the first men to side with the Dragon Reborn, but you will not be the last.”

Chapter Text

Sunday, 998 NE (June 22nd)

The crowd was silent, no cheers this time as the words of the Aes Sedai sunk in, of torture and death, of Darkfriends and worse. The Shienarans looked stolid, unafraid, the only signs of fear or worry being slight twitches and flexing fingers, but for the sailors it was another story. For men of Tar Valon to hear an Aes Sedai speak of such things as they have heard today, had shaken them to the core. More than a few looked numb, terrified, or anxious, and even those putting up a solid front had nervous tells. A fierce wind suddenly blew through the trees at the edge of the meadow, shaking branches and rustling the leaves in a roar of noise. I stepped forward into that gap, to both comfort and inform the sailors of their choice, now that they knew some of what they faced.

“Sailors of the Seamaid’s Kiss, I promise you that you do not have to join me on this dangerous journey.” I took a pause, and in the silence one man let out a huge sigh of relief, startling the crowd and setting it laughing. I smiled a grateful smile as the chuckles died down. “I’m glad today hasn’t ruined anyone’s sense of humor. Soon, we will be returning to my home, to Emond’s Field in the Two Rivers, traveling using the One Power. Any who wishes to stay in a comfortable village inn, while waiting for the rest of us to reach Illian, may on my wife’s coin.” I could hear a quiet snort of wry amusement from the Warder, and some men grinned at the idea. The Dragon Reborn, relying on his wife’s coin. Well, it is simply the truth. It’s not like I have any money.

“The people of Emond’s Field are good, proper folk. Humble and kind folk, but stubborn. They do not need to hear of our troubles. I would ask you to treat them well in your stay until I can bring you to Illian with me, using the same method of traveling with the One Power.” My face turned stern and imposing. “Otherwise I will have to have a word with you,” I said, with a sharp grin that showed my dragon teeth.

The captain, a man named Indrew Noiter who stood about as tall as Mat—with pale skin, pale blue eyes, a bald shiny head, and thick mutton chops of brown flecked with gray—drew himself straight, hands shaking a little as he called out, “And what if we wish to travel with you, to travel with the Dragon Reborn? What if we wish to see history made? What if we wish to be by your side, as you work your miracles and fight the Shadow, instead of being stuck in some sheep farmer’s idea of an inn?” He then realized the words he just said, and blanched. “No offense, my lord. I let my tongue get ahead of me.”

I raised a placating hand, and gave him a closed lip smile, not showing my teeth. The Winespring Inn still held a hazy spot in my heart, half-remembered and filled with buzzing voices in my memory, but also the center of fond memories with Egwene on hot summer days, and cold winter nights. And yet, compared to even other inns in Baerlon, the closest town, it was quaint and tiny, that I could not deny. “I do not take offense, Captain. It is a rural village inn, but the innkeep is a fine man. All I ask is that you treat him with respect, treat the village with respect.” I paused, fingering my coat, considering. “I will not deny any man who wishes to join me, though, but keep in mind the dangers we face. Moiraine Sedai has already spoken on some of them, but I will not mince words, nor lie to any man who chooses to come with me.” I took a deep breath, and adopted a serious mien as I gazed over the crowd, looking men in the eye. “We face Trollocs, Myrddraal, all manner of shadowspawn, Darkfriends, and even the Forsaken. The minions of the Dark One hunt us doggedly.” Shouts of surprise and fear rung out. A rather small man near the front of the crowd fainted.

Captain Noiter stared at me, eyes wide, but his voice steady, as the Shayol Ghul catechism came to his lips, as it came to the lips of many others, soldier and sailor alike. “The Dark One and all the Forsaken are bound in Shayol Ghul, bound by the Creator at the moment of Creation, bound until the end of time, Lord Dragon.”

I looked beyond him, addressing the crowd. “I have killed a Forsaken, and wounded another, and witnessed a third die. They are mortal, and fallible, but very much real and some have gotten free of the seal that bound them since the end of the Age of Legends. That is the truth of the matter.”

Shouts of dismay, and cries of disbelief rung the meadow of flowers, looks of despair and fear flickering like flames across the crowd. Mat looked sick, and Perrin’s brow furrowed. Loial’s ears twitched as he wrote furiously in his notebook, his thick fingers surprisingly deft with the pen.

“This is nonsense!” shouted one man. It was the First Mate, a man named Vasil Aranonvi. He was Kandori, a string bean of a man with a surprisingly loud voice, and thick dirty blond curls with wiry muscles. “Absolute foolishness, Indrew. If the Forsaken hunt him, then why would I ever travel with him? And why would I travel with an obvious madman, and fool besides? He prances around with two women like it's normal, and is an Aielman to boot, and shadowspawn stalk his step! The Shadow has attacked them twice before they even got on our boat, and he channels. Light, Indrew, the man admits he channels! You saw what he did to the Trollocs, and you think it is still safe to stick with him? I’ll make my own way downriver to Jurene, with the rest of the crew that aren’t buying this tinker tale.”

Lan stepped forward with a hand on his blade, eyeing the man as if he were an insect Lan was pondering whether to squash. “That will not be happening. You will stay in the Two Rivers and not leave. Or you may accompany us on our journey, regardless of what use you are, for the Lord Dragon is naïve and kind and Moiraine Sedai indulges him. Those are your two options. Be glad we aren’t leaving you in the woods to find your own way.”

Vasil wilted under Lan’s icy stare, but then looked defiantly to the Captain. “I won’t let you take the crew on a chase through the Blight, blast it. I won’t. He may tell the truth, or be a liar, but he is dangerous either way, and the men deserve somewhere safe, even if it is with sheepherders and tabac farmers.”

I spoke before Indrew could, worried about how upset he looked, eyes wide and manic, and face turning red. “I will force no man to follow me, not even a Shienaran soldier,”—Protests and angry mutters came from the soldiers and Lan looked at me as if I were an idiot—“to face such dangers without succor. Those that wish to join me may stand behind me. Those that wish to stay in Emond’s Field until I can pick you up and take you to Illian, stay where you are.”

The Shienarans as a group immediately joined, though many gave me a side-eye or a brief frown. So apparently I did the wrong thing letting them have an out. Ingtar simply walked past me without a glance or a word, giving me a wide berth, but he wore a brief look of fear when he caught me looking at him. Light, he fears me?! The sailors did not move, breaking into fierce discussion, the side to join the Dragon Reborn led by Captain Indrew Noiter, and the side to stay in Emond’s Field led by First Mate Vasil Aranonvi.

Only Uno remained, and he walked straight up to me and poked me in the chest. “You’re bloody naïve alright, a blasted fool and more besides, if you think you can convince me you are the flaming Dragon Reborn with fancy channeling and supposedly fulfilling some prophecy only goat-kissing fools try to make heads or tails of. But I will see the Horn delivered to Illian, blast it! The bloody Shadow wants it so bad, they can take it from our dead hands. And I’ll guard your back the entire way.”

I bit back a smile. At least one person was willing to tell me straight up they weren’t sure yet, and of course it's the foul-mouthed Uno. “I’m surprised so many seem to simply believe me. And honestly not surprised to see you aren’t one.”

Uno shrugged, a small smile gracing his face for a moment. “Most are goat-kissing fools, and have never seen an Aes Sedai channel in battle. I have. You are more flaming powerful then they are, but not outrageously so. There is also the fact a blo-” He coughed. “The Aes Sedai has declared you Dragon Reborn, and that she bound you as her Warder gives belief an even stronger foundation. Her second bloody Warder, who she treats like a husband. Burn me but it is beyond belief, no one would even whisper such a thing, an Aes Sedai married to a man who can channel. They would have their bloody tongue removed. Yet it has happened. But it is not enough for me. Until I see something bigger, until the bloody Stone falls or an Aes Sedai that isn’t your flaming lover declares you the Dragon, consider me skeptical, Lord Drake.”

I laughed. “I will have to hide my nature at first, in Illian, so it is best everyone keep referring to me as Lord Drake. Could you spread that to the soldiers?”

He simply nodded, clapped me on the shoulder and moved to speak with Lan.

The chatter of the sailors had reached the level of shouts, as two groups had formed, each cajoling a third group of sailors to join their side. First Mate Aranonvi had a ten men with him, and Captain Noiter had only four, while a group of ten men stood in-between, some staring anxiously, others arguing vociferously with one side or the other. Moiraine glided over to speak with the men, who began to calm at her presence, and look embarrassed, all sides respectful of the slight woman, who had taken the chance to change earlier from her simple riding dress into a deep blue dress with sunbursts and sickle moons stitched in gold and silver, and wore silver bangles, and gold hoops in her ears. She was truly beautiful, a shining star amidst the men. And all mine.

A voice calling out from behind me pulled from my… contemplation. “Lord Dragon?”

I turned and saw Masema stood expectantly with two other soldiers, who bowed as one once I faced them.

I sighed. What kind of trick was Masema going to pull? He always had a cheap move in my spars with the soldiers, something to send me reeling, or knock me off my feet. Ever since he nearly spilled food on my jacket, he had been staring, watching, that stupid grin on his face and never a kind word. Just mocking or dismissive. “What do you want, Masema? Don’t bow to me.”

Masema looked shocked as the men stood up from their bows. “You are a lord, a chinnar’veren, and the Dragon Reborn sent to save us! Of course I will bow to you.”

“You didn’t bow before,” I muttered, not quietly enough.

Masema winced and looked guilty, a strange look on his normally grinning face. “Before bitterness blinded me, and my years of fighting with the Aiel, but now I see. The Aiel needed to be such savages so that you would be born. How else would they have reached Dragonmount? It is not a fault of their nature, but an ordination by the Creator in order to bring about your birth!” His eyes were bright. That is certainly a thought… “But that is not why I am here before you, with my comrades. I have a question, Lord Dragon.”

Great, the guy that flipped from hating me to praising me has a question. Sure. Why not? This day cannot get stranger. “If I can answer, I will, Masema, but please call me Lord Drake in public, if you cannot call me Rand,” I said with a sigh. “What is your question?”

He took a moment centering himself, a flash of vulnerability flickering across his face, then looked me straight in the eyes as he spoke. “How did the lightning not kill us, Lord Dragon? I felt it go through me, and it went through Koto and Ichyo, and to all of us it felt warm, my lord. Like a mother’s hug, or a bright summer day on a picnic with your sweetheart.” His eyes looked into the distance, and a tear formed before he furiously wiped it away. The two men behind him, who must be Koto and Ichyo, both looked as affected by the retelling. Koto was the shorter man, with a broad, smiling face, and the typical Shienaran black hair in a soldier’s topknot, while Ichyo was about Mat’s height, with dark eyes and a quiet countenance, a think black mustache adorning his lip.

I was just glad none of them turned out to be a Darkfriend, though I was a little surprised Masema was not. It would have been harder to explain back then, though. I thought about how to explain what I thought happened. “Do you know how the Children of Light believe that the Dragon Reborn will recieve divine revelation from a spirit?”

Masema nodded slowly, as did the two other men. Koto spoke up. “I have heard such things. They also claim he will lead the Whitecloaks to victory over Tar Valon.”

“Well, they are right about the revelation. A number of things were revealed to me, given to me. A spirit of the Creator, a dragon spirit wreathed in the Flame Imperishable—the Sacred Fire of the Creator, the Light itself—visited me.” Their eyes widened, and Masema had a look of hunger and intense curiosity. “One gift they left with me was an ember of the Flame Imperishable, and when the lightning passed through my body, the Flame transformed the lightning, so that when I risked your life with my blind flailing, it would have never hurt you unless you were a Darkfriend or shadowspawn.”

Masema's reaction was one of surprise. “No, my lord, no! You did not risk our lives, you proved we are good, Light-fearing folk despite our soldiery. It was a transcendent experience.”

Ichyo nodded furiously in agreement, saying, “I would like to know more, Lord Dragon. What else did this spirit speak to you about?”

I winced, thinking back on my strange hours stuck floating in that gray void, watching my memories play before me, and speaking to that strange spirit. And the purifying… I shivered, feeling the phantom sensation of the flames worming their way through every part of my body. “Perhaps while we travel to the Two Rivers, I will speak on it. It is not the happiest tale, nor is what the spirit told me particularly comforting.” I caught the angry face of Mat, and a stern-looking Perrin standing off to the side, waiting for us to finish. and took that lifeline, as dubious as it was. “Oh, I am sorry Masema, but I think my friends need to speak with me.” Masema bowed once more, as did the men behind him, with a muttered “Lord Dragon” and he was off, speaking quietly, but quickly with Koto and Ichyo about me, as they returned to the crowd of Shienaran soldiers. I tuned out their words deliberately, not wishing to hear what tales they will began spinning of me.

Mat did have the decency to wait until he was close to blow up. “Blood and bloody ashes, Rand! You could go home, let us go home, and you did not even tell us?!” Though he shouted loud enough for everyone to hear, which made it a moot point. His face was splotchy red. “I thought you were going to tell us things.”

I winced, my stomach dropping. I had fucked up. “It was a secret, an important secret that I had to argue with Moiraine to reveal today, and light, I swear Mat, I was going to tell you soon, so you could meet your families again.”

“How many times?” Perrin asked, an angry burr to his voice. “How many times did you get to go home?”

“Only twice, just twice,” I placated. “Once with Egwene, the night the Darkfriends stole the Horn in Shienar, and yesterday. I was going to invite you yesterday, but since Moiraine was meeting my father for the first time, I did not wish to spoil that. The plan was to tell you, and soon, though. I swear.” I pleaded, looking between to two young men. Perrin seemed mollified, but Mat was still upset.

He sighed exaggeratedly. “Oh, so your wives can know, you can go and visit your da, but your friends cannot. I get it. We matter less.”

“Mat, I learned this like a month ago. When was I supposed to tell you? When I couldn’t even tell you I could channel, and you would not speak with me anyway?!” I bit out.

“Any time this past week or two?” Mat replied flippantly, while Perrin looked between us, frustrated.

“Ah yes, talking about how I can channel, either amongst a bunch of Aes Sedai, or aboard a boat surrounded by soldiers and sailors who would tie me up and toss me overboard. What brilliant choices, Mat,” I bit out. Then I sighed and pushed the anger and annoyance I felt away. It wasn’t fair to Mat or Perrin, to have kept this a secret, I should apologize. “I am sorry for not telling either of you. It was not fair of me, and I should have found the time and place to let you know I can take you home. We’ll be late for Sunday lunch, but hopefully returning home today will make up for it.”

Perrin nodded. “Apology accepted.” Then he waited for Mat, as Mat grumbled to himself.

Finally, he looked at me. “Alright fine, we’re good, Rand. You did not mean to hide it from us, you just never found the time, or something. I know how the Aes Sedai and her Warder keep you busy. I can accept your apology. Just, tell us big things like this next time? I don’t like finding out with everyone else.”

“I will,” I said with some relief, glad that Mat’s anger was burning out quickly. “And if either of you feel this has gone too far, this adventure has gotten to be too much and you want to stay home—”

“You aren’t getting rid of us that easily,” Mat interrupted with an annoyed smirk. “I can barely remember Caemlyn, and Fal Dara was far too militant for my tastes, too close to the bloody Blight to boot. I want to see Illian, see you make a fool of yourself as King Rand, and more, before I head back home and get stuck milking the cows, and accompanying my da horse-trading. I told you, when you marry that Aiel woman, that is the end of the line for Mat Cauthon. Until then you cannot get rid of me so easily, oh Lord Dragon,” Mat finished with a grin, all anger gone seemingly gone. I didn’t remember Mat well enough to tell if it was just hidden, burning like a coal beneath ash, or truly gone.

“We’re with you, Rand,” Perrin added seriously. “Through thick and thin. How could I leave you behind with only wives to rely on, and Lan?”

I smiled a warm smile, grateful once more for my friends were finally speaking to me again, and embraced the two young men in a tight hug, despite Mat’s protests. Perrin, the lovable lunk that he is, hugged me right back with those blacksmith muscles of his, squeezing me tight.

“A king always needs a blacksmith,” I said to Perrin once I released them. “And a jester,” I joked, nodding towards Mat.

“Hey! If anything, I can be the Royal Prankster, with a budget and everything!” Mat said with a wry grin.

“Yeah,” I nodded in mock-seriousness, “a jester.”

We joked about the future, about my kingly nature, and what foods they would eat at the feast, until Moiraine approached, leading Captain Noiter to us. She felt frustrated, but serene calm dominated her countenance. Our conversation died, and Mat and Perrin swiftly left, somehow sensing Moiraine’s less than pleased state.

“Lord Dragon, the Captain and nine sailors have decided to join our party. I had hoped the captain would be willing to remain with the crew that intended to stay in Emond’s Field, but the First Mate was more than willing to corral the fifteen men who will be staying. We are ready to Travel whenever you are ready to make the Door.”

I nodded, surprised that so many sailors actually continued on. “Can you make sure the men that accompany us to Illian are armed, and those that are staying behind are not. We need every advantage we can get on our journey, and I just do not trust men in my home village that I do not know, regardless of how little I remember of it.”

Moiraine spoke as if what I had said were obvious, and perhaps it was, but I was new to all of this. “Of course, Lord Dragon. The men have already been divested of all weaponry bigger than a pocket knife, but I will assign boarding axes and spears to the sailors accompanying us, if that is your will.” Her face betrayed no feeling, and in the bond she felt calm and placid as a bucket of water. I did not know if she approved or not.

“We discussed it fiercely, Lord Dragon,” Captain Noiter said, breaking me from my thoughts. “Whether to travel with you or not. I am sorry to say I could not convince more of my men the truth of the matter.”

“And what is the truth of the matter?” I asked, curious.

The captain looked wary for a moment, and spoke slowly. “Of who you are, my lord. The Dragon Reborn. But you mustn't punish the men. Some believe you are, but they still are unwilling to follow where you tread, the fear of the Shadow deep within them. You mustn't think them cowards.”

I waved him off. “If they don’t want to believe yet, that is more power to them. I am who I am, and I will act in kind. I don’t need them to believe me, just to follow my orders. And the ones that fear what comes, they have that right. There is no need to punish any.” I paused, considering. “You don’t think that there will be any trouble with them, Captain Noiter?” I asked, cautiously.

“No, no. No trouble. I hire decent men mostly, some gamblers, and some with wandering eyes or foul mouths, but no rotters, not beatbullies or philanderers, and certainly no drunks. Those I kick out,” said the man, certainty in his tone.

I hoped he would be right.

After I opened the widest Door I could, a ten-foot by ten-foot square hanging right above the ground and stepping through, I waited for a long minute before people finally started moving through, starting with the good Captain Noiter, who took in the dozens of couches lining the rails and set across the deck in little groups with a startled laugh. Soldiers poured through the gate following him, each leading a stubborn horse through the black of the gate, a ramp appearing with my force of will leading down into the cargo hold.

Soon enough sailors came through in groups of two and three, some heading immediately for the cabins—recreated with one of the nicer beds I slept in, in Fal Dara, but made to be a size that fits—to lie down for a nap, or to simply get away from others after the start of a long day. Once everyone was through, Lan entered last. I closed the Door and the sails instantly swelled, and a sense of motion filled the ship, though what speed we were going I could not tell, merely that it was fast. Some Shienarans sat on couches, quietly talking and occasionally glancing in my direction, while the snores of sleeping sailors down in cabins, or on couches, filled the cloying silence of Darkspace. The two groups of sailors stayed far away from each other, and Vasil's group stayed far away from me, taking mostly cabins and the couches in the rear half of the ship.

Near the prow, with Min on my left and Moiraine on my right, my arms around them. It would be afternoon by the time we would arrive. The Sunday feast would be in full force, a sprawling picnic in the Green with tables of foodstuffs, as every family made enough to feed a dozen. Gooseberry pie, blueberry pie, apple pie, berry pastries, nut pastries, roast chickens, the al’Carr’s clay ducks, quail and turkey, piles of fresh vegetable, pickled vegetables, roasted vegetables, tureens of barley soup and onion soup and chicken soup and wild mushroom soup, beef ribs smoked for a day until the meat nearly fell off the bone, and piles of roast beef and pyramids of bread loaves, with spicy sauce and a dozen other types of food, all enough to fill a man to the brim. The tales that Perrin and Mat told of Sunday feasts made my stomach rumble, and my mouth water. And we would interrupt it with our trouble. Perhaps we could try eating first?

“What is the plan, Moiraine?” I asked. “How do we do this? What do we tell them?”

She felt amused and satisfied in the bond, and she nuzzled into me. “I don’t know, Lord Dragon, what is the plan? You’re the one who made the decision that we would be traveling to Emond’s Field, against my judgment.”

“Are you serious?” I asked, a little stunned she didn’t just offer up a plan for me like usual.

“Yes Rand, I am serious. You can do this. This is your home village, and you may not know them, but they know you. And you are ta’veren. If there is any aboard this boat who can convince Two Rivers men and women, it is you. So what is your plan, Rand?”

It felt a little like stumbling over a missing step. Perhaps I had come to rely on Moiraine a bit too much. But before my thoughts can spiral, the voice of an angel appears in my left ear.

“Whatever you come up with, we’ll help you. Right Moiraine? You’re not just going to let him flounder,” Min said and Moiraine frowned at her, like a child whose teasing had prematurely ended.

Moiraine sighed. “Of course, I will help him, Min. I am his advisor and teacher. But if he doesn’t come up with a plan, there’s nothing I can help with.”

So I got down to work. Eventually, we decided I would speak with the Village Council, and the Women’s Circle together, with Moiraine, Min accompanying us, while Mat and Perrin meet their families. The soldiers and sailors would stay on my father’s land, and have their own lunch of travel rations, and if the village agreed, would join the evening feast. After that we would wait until it was deep in the night before I opened a Door to travel to Whitebridge, to the square in the center of the town, where the bridge touches down. From there, Moiraine said we could either find two or three inns and stay the night, before heading down to the docks in the morning, or go and try to bargain passage this very night. She did not need to make her preference known, I knew she’d want a bed, so it wasn’t much of a choice.

As we finished planning, Masema approached me once more, this time with a dozen other Shienaran soldiers and even a couple sailors, including Ichyo and Koto, Ingtar and Uno, and the Captain himself. “Lord Dragon, forgive this lowly soldiers interruption,”—I made to speak but Moiraine put a hand on my arm, and shook her head—“But I had told others about what you told me, and now they wish to hear you speak, about the spirit, and about the revelations given. And the Creator’s Sacred Flame. They wish to hear of the matter from your lips.”

Inwardly, I felt nervous, and a little discombobulated, but Moiraine gently clasped my hand and smiled, leaning forward. “He would love to, but please, if we are to have a story told, you all should sit down so we don’t have to keep gazing up at you.”

That gave me time to pull myself together, as I thought about what to speak of. Mat and Perrin had quit talking, only muttering occasionally, obviously listening in even if they pretended they were interested in anything but me. They had been since we had started planning. I could hear others turning to listen as well, my long ears twitching. “You wish to hear how I learned I am the Dragon Reborn, Masema and friends? You wish to hear the true story of what happened at the Eye of the World?” Men leaned forward in anticipation, after having settled down to listen. And so I told them, like I was Thom telling a tale. It helped to keep some distance from the events. Moiraine had coached me somewhat on this, for this question, but I did not think it would happen so soon. Much like everything. Perched delicately on a nearby couch, Loial had his pen out, and was eagerly writing down my words.

“We had learned, from the Aiel and the Tuatha’an, from dreams and from the mouth of a Forsaken himself, that the Shadow sought the Eye of the World, and so we traveled into the Blight, with need in our hearts, to find the Eye of the World,” I began. And so I told them. I told them about the Greenman and Balthamel, told the story of me shapechanging and burning Agnior alive and almost killing Ba’alzamon with a great glowing sword of saidin. I told them how I awoke with no memories, only to gain them when I heard my name from the lips of my betrothed. I skipped over the memories, and told them of the Iridescent Flame, how they named me Dragon Reborn, and the revelation that Ba’alzamon was not the Dark One, but instead an insane Forsaken. I emphasized the spirit telling me I was wrong to not learn how to channel, that being ignorant of it almost killed me. That sent whispers and gasps through the crowd, their eyes wide and disbelieving.

I told them of the Flame Imperishable, of my purification, of burning for hours, and the gifts the Iridescent Flame has given me, the prophecy of the wives once more, and the reveal of the weaves that appear every time I bind a new wife, teaching me the lost arts of the Age of Legends. I wrapped up the tale, with the ominous message the spirit had given me, to ‘go to Toman Head to meet my destiny, or suffer in the tides of cruel fate’ and glanced around me. Mat and Perrin stopped pretending to not listen long ago, and others had come and sat around our couch to listen, even sailors from Vasil’s group, and when it seemed to everyone I had finished, muttering began. A low murmur filled the ship, as some sailors discussed the odds in which I was mad already, or the various things I spoke of, arguing, about channeling and Forsaken and the Dragon Reborn and all manner of things, each seeming to have an entirely unique opinion. Soldiers eyed them disdainfully and gave me occasional looks as if I were a strange blacksmith’s puzzle they were still figuring out the secret of, but Uno was the one that asked the question that was probably on everyone’s mind.

“You’re trying to bloody tell me the Creator sent a blasted spirit to complain that you weren’t a goat-kissing fool who channeled saidin willy-nilly? Does that mean other poor goat-kissing fools should flaming channel? That it’s right for them to do so? That is the Whitecloak’s grand revelation that will have the White Tower fall to the bloody Children of the Light and the Dragon Reborn stand beside them? Is the Creator playing a bloody joke on them? On us?”

Moiraine felt like ice in the bond, dread and realization washing over her, and her face twitched, before she smiled at Uno. “Indeed, it does sound foolish at first glance, and counter intuitive. What Whitecloak could bear to suffer a male channeler to live? What Aes Sedai? What Light-fearing man or woman? Perhaps you are right, and it is a cruel joke, or misunderstood prophecy.” She paused, taking on a sterner tone. “But Rand has finished his tale, and we must prepare to arrive soon. Are there any other questions of Rand?” Moiraine said, the last sentence said briskly, and dismissive.

Silence stretched, no one willing to defy an Aes Sedai who seemed quite finished with any discussion, nor did any wish to ponder the questions Uno uttered, for they were terrifying to consider. I don’t know if the Creator wants men to channel, but it seems to me to be necessary for the Last Battle, and might very well be the reason so many weaves were gifted to me, was the thought I could not help having but wisely did not speak. Moiraine would have my hide if I said such a thing without consulting her. Masema got up, soldiers standing up with him and they all bowed.

“Thank you for your wisdom, Lord Dragon. Your words were… illuminating.” Masema frowned and seemed to stare past me. “It leaves me, leaves all of us, with much to think about.”

Sailors broke into small knots in the ship further back, discussing what they heard, while a couple soldiers stayed back and started casually guarding the couch as if we were in any danger. “Men,” Moiraine snorted, then she turned to me, as chills tingled and she embraced the One Power, weaving a ward against eavesdropping around us. “Why you thought they deserved that sort of unpalatable truth, I do not know. You could have made anything up for the revelation, we’ve discussed this, Rand.”

I frowned. “And I always said I would tell the truth, Moiraine. Light, it’s all a big joke the Iridescent Flame played on the Children of the Light. It will turn out ironic, like I will appear in their victory over the White Tower and destroy them, not lead them. These prophets of the Whitecloaks must have misunderstood what the Iridescent Flame was telling them. There’s no way I would stand with the Whitecloaks against the White Tower. But what made you so upset just now, with what Uno said? You feel awful.”

She frowned and felt disturbed, a sour feeling. “Rand. False prophets may claim their prophecy is true, but only prophecies from a Foretelling are accurate predictions of the future, made with the One Power, regardless of how much or how little we understand them. That the prophecies about the Revelation of the Dragon Reborn are at least partially true, probably means that at least some Whitecloak prophets have been men who can channel. Given that these prophets seem to appear with a gap of anywhere between twenty and thirty-five years at a time, and last only a few years at most before disappearing or dying of illness, I am afraid what a recall of the prohibition on channeling would do to the world, what the Whitecloaks would be prepared for. I’m afraid they already know exactly what your revelation would be.”

“Moiraine, what are you talking about?” I said worriedly. She cannot mean…

“I’m talking about male channelers, Rand. The average male channeler who is born with the spark awakens it at age twenty-four, with a range between eighteen and thirty-two, according to studies on a nearly three millennia long case history of gentled men. Eighteen to thirty-two. Twenty to thirty-five. Those numbers are far too similar. I had my own revelation when Uno spoke. Why would the Whitecloaks embrace a man who can channel? I believe,” Moiraine took a deep breath, and settled herself. “I believe some part of the Children of the Light are breeding such men. And if they are, why would they be? Unless they believe that at some point in the future, because of Foretellings, that openly channeling men would become a possibility. The Whitecloaks have survived and quite honestly thrived in the last one thousand years.”

Min forced a laugh and shook her head, before peering over at the Aes Sedai. “That is a wild tale born of paranoia if I have ever heard one. Light, are you listening to yourself, Moiraine Sedai? You think the Whitecloaks are breeding men who can channel, because of some prophecy turning true? That is patently ridiculous.”

“It may seem ridiculous and counter-intuitive, dear sister-wife, but many hypocrisies exist inside the institutions of our world. I cannot dismiss these thoughts I’ve stumbled upon and in horror, I cannot help but think of the Aes Sedai that have been captured by the Whitecloaks. It is always thought they were tortured and killed. But if they weren’t…” Moiraine shuddered, feeling of nauseous, rancid fear and mournful despair.

I clasped her tightly, wishing I could think of something to say to lance those emotions, but nothing came to me and we did not speak more of the Whitecloaks that day. Soon enough she delicately gathered her tears in threads of Water and Air so as to not smear her makeup, making a globe that she then shot off the side of the ship. There were other, unfortunately more urgent matters to attend to. I opened the Door to the clearing north of my father’s farm and the day marched inexorably forward.

Chapter Text

Sunday, 998 NE (June 22nd)

It took half an hour to get everyone out of the ship, groups gathering and heading to my father’s home, as Mat and Perrin helped soldiers coax the horses back up the ramp and out of the hold. My thoughts hung heavy about the fate of Aes Sedai amongst the Whitecloaks, and what other secret channelers existed out there, like traps littering a dark room waiting for an unsuspecting fool, for me, to stumble upon them. And when I wasn’t thinking of the secret horrors of the Children of the Light, I was worried about our upcoming meeting, about meeting people who knew the old me, that I could not remember. Would they even believe me? Would they accept the sailors? Would they think me mad?

After about twenty minutes of this, Moiraine decided we both needed to relax, and led me off to stable Aldieb, her mare, and Red, my stallion, in the half-repaired barn, before taking the opportunity to drag around the corner, daintily hopping onto a barrel and pulling me close without a word, threading her fingers into my hair as I bent down slightly to kiss her, our mouths meeting. My hands roamed her dress, her little squeaks and deeper moans had me only moving quicker. Soon enough all thoughts were gone and there was only Moiraine and her body. My Aes Sedai wife, beautiful and wanting the comfort of touch, of someone who cares, to rid us both of our persistent thoughts. For long minutes we kissed, our hands on each other, roaming and touching, before Min coughed loudly, interrupting us.

“I understand the need to get his mind off, well, everything. And your mind as well. But behind the barn? Really? Anyone could have found you two. And you were loud, Moiraine. Light preserve me from two lovesick fools.”

Moiraine flushed immediately, a wave of embarrassment drowning her sweet trills of satisfaction, and the deep roar of lust. I was crimson as well, quickly backing away, while I adjusted my pants and Moiraine adjusted the bosom of her dress and pulled her skirts down. Min’s cheeks were the brightest red and she wouldn’t quite look at us.

“I had meant only for Rand to steal some kisses, to… to distract him from his worries,” Moiraine tried to explain, as she stood from the barrel, legs slightly trembling. “It was him that moved beyond what I intended. He acted quite indecorous to an Aes Sedai. He took… I was not… I did not…” She frowned, unable to say the words she obviously wished to. “It was risky of him to do so, and I wish…” She then glared at me as if I had done something wrong. “Rand al’Thor, you are a fool who makes me a fool. You are dangerous and I should be more careful around you. Who knows what unseemly thing you will do next?”

I couldn’t help my exasperated groan. What does that mean?! You’re the one who put my hands on your bosom, woman! “Hey, I did nothing you did not ask or teach me to do, Moiraine, my Teacher.”

Moiraine glared at me without real fire, her cheeks two spots of red.

Min set her hands on her hips and eyed the Aes Sedai with a knowing gaze. “Excuses is all I hear. Next time, bind his wandering hands if they’re so ‘dangerous’. You’re an Aes Sedai, are you not?”

Moiraine did not have a response to either of us, her face flushed pinker still. It was quite an amusing sight, and I simply had to take her into my arms. “I forgive you for trying to blame this on me, my Aes Sedai wife,” I whispered into her ear and she gave a loud huff but kept her mouth shut, sinking into my arms and hiding her face in my chest.

Once we were put together again, and faces calm, the next hour was spent separating supplies between the Vasil’s group, and the Illian group, making sure sailors didn’t fall asleep in mine or my dad’s bed, getting rations to all the sailors and soldiers—just bread and cheese, since they may very well be joining the feast later—and right after we finished, Moiraine had a brilliant idea. Test the Elemental Blade ter’angreal against Lan’s royal blade, a Power-wrought sword, in a spar. She meant it as a warning to the First Mate and the so-called ‘non-believers’ to stick around and not try anything, but I thought we should do it to raise the morale, after the attack and our less-than-uplifting speeches. A display of swordplay between two Warders would be just the thing. I didn’t really think they needed a warning, since they saw me earlier this morning, tearing through Fists of Trollocs, but I had wanted to try the ter’angreal ever since I saw it, and I leapt at the chance.

It was about noon when I held the long pale sword hilt without a blade, the guard a series of thin golden wires woven into a curved screen to protect the hand. Gems in the shapes of red flames, and blue waves, of yellow clouds, and green mountains, and a white heart, decorated the hilt. It was a Sport-grade Elemental Blade, whatever that meant, and instinctually I knew how to use it once I laid hands on it, a muscle memory from nowhere. I tried not to think about that.

Lan and I stood before a couple soldiers and sailors on the stretch of grass Moiraine cut yesterday for my training spar with my father, facing one another. Channeling a thin thread of Fire into the ruby flames on the hilt caused the thread to get sucked tight by the ter’angreal, and a blade the size of a dagger appeared. I tied the weave off, but the blade died instantly. Frowning, I channeled again into the ruby, this time a thicker thread of Fire, and a blade the size of a shortsword appeared, made of flames. Increasing the thickness of a thread made the blade grow, and thinning made it shrink, and never could I tie it off. I always had to be providing a flow of the One Power. A few more soldiers were standing and watching avidly.

Once I had that figured out, I shifted to Earth, the thread touching and getting attached to the emerald mountain, and a blade of green jade-like stone grew to mimic my Power-wrought sword. It had a nice weight to it, unlike Fire which felt like I was wielding a thin stick and not a sword. As I released the flow the blade disappeared into green and black dust, swiftly blown away by the wind. I then grasped a thread of Air, touching clouds of yellow tourmaline, and a blue-white blade appeared, solid air formed into a cutting edge. It hummed when I tested the blade, and similar to Fire it felt near weightless, though not as floaty as Fire did. I would have to be mindful.

Water touching the sapphire waves gave me a single-edged blade of pure ice crystal that nearly seemed to freeze the air every time I swung it, and like Earth it had a solidity and weight to it that felt more like a normal sword, more familiar. By this time a crowd had gathered, word spreading I would spar with the Warder, and the murmuring grew louder with each blade I demonstrated, awe spreading through the crowd. Men had not bared such a blade in over three thousand years, and now I would wield it in a spar with Lan Gaidin. What is my life? I thought with a huff.

“Are you done playing, scales?” Lan asked, breaking me from my reverie.

I nodded with a bit of chagrin. “Yes, Lan Gaidin.”

I had not touched Spirit, but I wouldn’t be using that in a spar with Lan, anyway. If Spirit Swords had showed me anything, it was a blade of pure Spirit was very dangerous and nigh-impossible to stop. I was still in so’shan, the Lord Form offering an enhanced physicality that nearly matched a Warder, though not outstripping him. When you factored in the Warder bond’s benefits, however… I would take every advantage I could get. With the Flame and the Void, with ko’di, I achieved the Oneness. The blade of frozen Water one with me, my feet planted solid, one with the ground, and my body tense as a wire waiting for Lan to move, our blades bound by an inescapable gravity.

He moved faster than I had ever seen him except in true battle, blurring into motion with an obvious Unfolding the Fan being the only saving grace of his speed. When his Power-wrought blade met my Elemental Blade a ringing sound echoed while blue sparks flew and a chunk of ice crystal cracked. My thread of Water, held tight by the sapphire waves, tugged on me and pulled more of the One Power, repairing itself in a moment of respite as I leapt back and watched in fascination. The crowd thundered in awe, but I ignored it. So it repaired the blade automatically, but inevitably will drain me. So I have a time limit and my blade cannot stand up to a Power-wrought sword. The real question is, would it stand up to the sword of a Myrddraal?

Lan did not let me retreat long. He wore a look of solemn concentration on his stony face, and in swift short motions our swords met again and again, a ringing sound like clarion bells echoing through the yard, and the cracks grew deeper and longer on my blade with no time to take a pause. The tenth consecutive strike shattered the blade, and I reeled back from the sudden pain in my head as the flow of the One Power forcibly disconnected. The ice of the blade melted into water in seconds, but not before Lan got a cut on his cheek from a stay shard of ice, bright red blood beading, a brief look of frustration crossing his face. In shock, my Oneness also melted.

He did not give me more than a moment of stunned staring, my head throbbing with pain, before he stabbed at me, Eel Amongst the Lily Pads, and instinctually I reached for Fire and pumped the Elemental Blade full, as a greatsword of flames erupted from the hilt to meet the blade. At first the Power-wrought sword cut through the blade of flames, until it hit the thin white-hot core, blue and white sparks filling the air that suddenly felt like a furnace had been opened. I shoved Lan back, our blades locked, and he went reeling to avoid the errant flickering flames.

With the brief moment of respite, I once more settled myself in the Oneness and for one long, seemingly endless minute I kept him at bay, adjusting to wielding the greatsword of Fire. The more wild a swing, the more Lan had to dodge, and soon small burns littered his face and forearms. By the end Moiraine felt a bit annoyed, presumably because of the burns she would have to heal, and the heat that was making the crowd back off. After one last flaring of my sword, I let the flow go, retreating a couple steps back. Lan stared warily at the bejeweled hilt bereft of a blade.

A nice, round thread of Earth gave me a blade slightly longer and broader than my own Power-wrought sword and I felt immediately more comfortable, a familiar weight and length in my hands. Low Wind Rising in a diagonal cut for Lan’s chest, our blades locking, and The Grapevine Twines, breaking the lock. Thin cracks run through the blade of Earth, stark black against the bright green of the jade. Our blades meet again and again, Lan still faster than I was, and once again after the tenth blow my blade shattered. This time it shatters into a cloud of green and black dust that sets us both coughing, while I reach for Air.

I Unfolded the Fan with a cool blue-white blade that seemed to fade in above the golden basket hilt. Lan’s sword easily met it, and sliced through the top third of the blade, turning it to mist. The rest of the blade whistled on its upwards trajectory, and sliced a deep cut across Lan’s upper left arm with nary a sound. After a moment of shock that I actually managed to cut Lan, I felt the chill of saidar and I was locked up tight in invsible bonds, while Lan took his time sheathing his blade, staring at the wound with annoyance visible.

Moiraine glided over to us, an amused look worn, her own annoyance gone, and the bright flare of worry slowly fading, while pride glowed like the rising sun in the bond. “Lan Gaidin, I cannot believe you let the young man made you bleed twice, even by sheer luck. Your gray hairs must be getting to you.”

He simply grunted and said, “Unfamiliar weapon. Won’t happen next time.” and let Moiraine Heal him. The crowd watched, and I half-listened as they chatted about the battle, about their favorite moves, and how fast we fought, and the way that Lan’s sword could destroy mine. Arguments formed about which sword was better. I still hung slightly above the ground on bonds of Air, held tight.

“You can let me go, now, Moiraine Sedai.” She glanced at me, as if she had not realized I was there, and there was a teasing glint in her eyes, and she adopted a mock-frown.

“Oh, you’re still hanging around? You should have said something, dear.” Then she giggled, releasing me from the bonds of Air. A few in the crowd chuckled, and soon others joined them, cautiously laughing at the joke an Aes Sedai made. Then she grabbed my arm and raised it. “Rand al’Thor is the winner of this little spar, reaching first blood and wounding Lan Gaidin’s left arm, defeating my Warder of nineteen years. May that luck carry him through these next few weeks!”

Lively cheers rang out—I could hear Mat whooping and hollering—people still in wonder at seeing blades of fire and ice, stone and air, like out of a tale. I grinned and basked in the cheers. It may have been a fluke of my weapon, but I won, against a Lan that was more powerful than he normally was in spars, faster and more deadly. There was no way he was going all out against me, but nevertheless, it was a win and I would take it.

I felt proud and happy, that was, until I saw Verin Sedai examining me as if I was a strange new bug she wanted to pin and my mood soured. She had been quiet all day, and apparently had not even realized we were under attack until Moiraine dragged her away from her reading she had supposedly been doing all night. Even now she looked a little bleary-eyed, and occasionally yawned absently. It made me suspicious, and from the doubt and worry of Moiraine, it had made her suspicious too. Awake all night, yet somehow doesn’t notice the ship under attack, nor the saidar of the weaves, nor even the beaching, leaving only Moiraine and I to deal with it? I shook my head as the cheers died down, and stepped through the gaps in the crowd to get ready for the meeting.

Nearly a half hour later, sweat wiped from my brow and body and new clothes on, I mounted Red, Moiraine mounted Aldieb, and Min, Perrin, Mat and Lan joined us on their own horses. Masema approached our group armed and armored, alongside four other men including Ichyo and Koto.

“Lord Dragon, if you give us five minutes, we will be ready and mounted beside you.”

I frowned. I thought I told Uno that they were to refer to me as Lord Drake. “Why?” It seemed like Masema and his cronies just couldn’t stop popping up today, like mushrooms after a rain.

Masema looked taken aback that I questioned his actions, as if it were obvious what he meant to do. “To guard you and your companions, my lord.”

I frowned deeper and stared at him for a long moment, before I spoke slowly, as if to make it easier to understand. “This is my home. I do not need guards, and Emond’s Field certainly doesn’t need soldiers in it, not until I have approval from the village government.”

“But my lord—”

Moiraine interrupted him. “He has spoken, Masema.”

He bowed his head, first to me, then to Moiraine and said with resignation. “Yes. I understand Lord Dragon, Moiraine Sedai. Forgive me my impertinence.” Reluctantly, the soldiers backed off, bowing, before turning and leaving us.

The servility, the bowing and scraping that had been growing since before I was even announced in Fal Dara as Lord Drake and there were only rumors of my lordship, had gotten so much worse today and it made me want to scream. But I could only push or burn such feelings away. I would be king sooner than I thought. I would have to get used to it. Eventually.

We were all dressed in our Sunday best, and I had finally shed my armor and no longer was in so’shan, nor holding saidin, though I longed for it. I wore what had become Moiraine’s ‘uniform’ for me, the scarlet and gold jacket with embroidered dragons. Underneath I wore a white silk shirt, that was new to me, embroidered with red roses and green thorns climbing from the hem, while my trousers were black, embroidered with golden dragons curling around my calves. These were new, light linen and perfect for the summer heat.

Min wore snug white breeches, a red silk shirt and a black coat, cut for her figure. Rubies dangled from her ears, and she had found the time to put some blush to her cheeks, and shared a smoky-eyed look with Moiraine, who wore her deep blue dress, with the sun in gold-thread, and the moon in silver, with silver bangles inset with tiny sapphires and gold hoops for earrings. Mat wore a silk coat of green and brown embroidered with red and white foxes over a nice white linen shirt and cream trousers, with a grumble of course, while Perrin wore a dark red jacket, embroidered with yellow sunflowers, with black shirt, and dark red trousers. All clothing was Moiraine-approved and it showed. We all looked good, more like young lords than country boys. Emond’s Field would be in for a surprise when they saw us.

The ride into the village, which took about three quarters of an hour at a trot, was filled with chatter from Mat and Perrin as Min asked questions and they spoke about past Sundays and winners of games, and whether my father or Mat’s father would win the longbow competition. Mat wanted to take part in the quarterstaff this year, as he felt ‘lucky’, and quite excited after watching Lan and I spar. That was something I hadn’t realized as I was battling, but apparently Mat and Perrin were shouting their heads off for me to win, cheering me on, Min had told me. That made me feel warm, and gave me a bit of relief from my nervousness to know. They asked about how it felt to fight against a real blade, and also how each different Element felt as a sword, and I happily chattered back, describing them in detail, along with the spar. Lan snorted a couple times at my more flowery phrases, but denied no part of my tale.

As we rode into the village on the Old Quarry Road, we easily could see the Green, covered in families sitting and eating on blankets, and tables piled high with food and drink. I recognized none of them and even the village did not look familiar, for all my memories of parts of it. My home is as unfamiliar as any small village we passed through, I couldn’t help thinking, a bit morosely, and Min moved her horse closer to mine and reached out a hand that I squeezed, then let go. We were seen easily enough, and recognized a minute after, as two teenage girls ran across bridge that crossed the Winespring Water, the second girl’s dark brown hair flowing like a sheet in the wind, and they crossed the rest of the Green to the road, shouting “Mat! You’re back!”

Mat, meanwhile, had leapt off his horse with a look of happiness and gathered the girls into a long hug. “You are in so much trouble, Mat,” said the first girl, with mischievous eyes so like Mat’s, plump and pretty, her hair braided, wearing a pretty white dress embroidered with yellow sunflowers around the hem, and blue birds around the neckline.

“Mother was so upset.” said the second, younger sister who looked near a twin to her older sister but with her hair unbraided, and looked positively gleeful, wearing a nice green wool dress with tiny silk flower buds adorning the cuffs and hem. Mat groaned and let the hug go, before starting as he noticed his parents approaching.

A man that looked like an older Mat, and a cool, collected, handsome woman with dark brown hair braided, a streak of gray at her temple, followed the two girls. Bran al’Vere, and my father came quickly behind them, as well as Haral Luhhan and a stout, strong looking woman as tall as Perrin who must be Alsbet Luhhan. A distance behind them came a family comprising a slim man with dirty-blonde curly hair, and a beautiful woman of above-average height, two inches taller than her husband, wearing a pretty smile and wore her raven black hair in an intricate braid. A teenage girl, a preteen girl and a young boy followed them, the boy with the same curly hair Perrin and his father had, the girls matching their mother. When Perrin noticed them, he got off of his horse, and moved steadily, slowly, cautious almost.

He looked around and caught my eye, before turning and shouting at them. “It is all Rand’s fault, I swear! Turns out he caused all the trouble, not me, promise. Swear on the Light.”

I laughed and dismounted my stallion, walking over to Mat, holding out a hand to the closest girl, the second, slightly younger looking sister. “Hi, I’m Rand. I sort of lost my memories and don’t quite remember your name. Are you Bodewhin or Eldrin?”

She stared at me as if I were a joke and rolled her eyes, limply shaking my hand. “Mat, this has to be the dumbest prank yet. You know who I am, Rand.”

“No prank, dear sister. The wool-head really lost his memories of a bunch of stuff. Its wild. That little witch is Eldrin, and the other is Bodewhin.” I heard an offended huff, and a muttered ‘telling mom’ from Eldrin.

“It’s nice to meet you both, again. I apologize for just showing up without notice, but Mat just couldn’t wait to see you two again. He even shouted at me,” I said with a grin.

Mat looked flabbergasted at me, as the sisters turned nearly as one at Mat and cooed a “Mat, you didn’t”.

“That- that isn’t- Rand! You know that isn’t why we are here! And I did not even tell you I missed them! I- I mean…” A hand on his shoulder stopped him, as Abell Cauthon stood behind his son.

He gave me a broad smile as he spoke. “Calm down, Mat. Rand’s only trying to get your dander up.”

His mother, Natti Cauthon, came round giving him a good look over and examined his clothes. The Moiraine appointed clothing seemed to pass muster, and she embraced him in a hug he melted into for a long moment, before she stood back with her hands on his shoulders, looking him over with a cool face. Then she boxed ears, nice and tight. I winced.

As Mat howled, she kept a grip on him and stood him straight through the pain. “That is what you get, Matrim Cauthon, you unrepentant ox-brained fool of a boy. I am glad you are back, of course, but you will leave again on your fool adventure, will you not? I can see it in your eyes, in your new fancy clothes and boots, and that fine saddle of that horse of yours.”

Then she hugged Mat again, and this time Mat, much more reluctantly, gave her a hug back, before moving out of her arms and rubbing his ears as he nodded, reluctantly.

“I cannot stay, Ma.”

Moiraine had also dismounted and spoke up then, from beside me. “Matrim is ta’veren. Unless you wish the trouble of the world to come to the Two Rivers, then it is better that he not stay. But he will return. I will not tell you how, but he will.”

Mat’s mother frowned at the Aes Sedai, seemingly unafraid of her. “And who is an Aes Sedai to tell us where our son may or may not stay?”

“I’m not going to question how you got here from the Old Quarry Road,” said Abell. “We don’t want any trouble with Aes Sedai business, but we want our son to be safe and he won’t be safe with you. It can only be a blessing of the Creator that he came back on Sunday, and I think it’s best if his adventure ends here.”

Beyond our knot stood Perrin speaking quietly with the Luhhans, his family waiting somewhat impatiently. My father and Bran stood a little bit away from us, and seemed to be content with watching what played out. I made to move over to my father, but Moiraine latched tightly to my arm, stopping me.

Moiraine made to speak once more, taking a deep breath as a kernel of frustration budded, but Mat is the one who beat her to the punch. “No! Da, no. I promised I would stay by Rand’s side, until he… well until he married…” he said, suddenly sounding embarrassed, looking away. This proclamation delighted his sisters, who listened eagerly.

His father looked at him, then at me. “Is this true, Rand? Did Mat really make such a promise?”

I nodded seriously. “He promised to stick by my side until I married a certain woman, Master Cauthon. And I’m making him stick to it.” Abell Cauthon grinned at that, slapping his son on the back, and Natti Cauthon shook her head exasperated, muttering ‘men’.

“You still intend to marry Egwene do you? We’ll see after Marin handles you for running away with her, Rand. We’ll see,” Cauthon said, shaking his head ruefully.

Mat’s mother looped an arm through his and spoke authoritatively. “Let’s get you fed, you’re looking a little skinny, Matrim. You too Rand, and bring the Aes Sedai and the… young woman along. You all can join us on our blanket, there is plenty of room. You must have been traveling long and hard to reach here from Tar Valon, and the clay ducks are divine this year! Fat and juicy, tender as can be. A sign that summer will be long and fruitful, or so Mistress al’Carr claims, after that horrid winter. The good Warder, Tam, and dear Bran can put away the horses, I suppose.” And with that, it was decided. We would be sitting on the Cauthon’s blanket for this Sunday.

There was wolves close by. Perrin could feel them ever since he stepped through the strange Door of Rand’s and back into the Two Rivers. He had pushed their questioning thoughts away, the strange images and smells that seemed to make up the language of wolves, closing himself off. He felt guilty he still hadn’t told Rand or Mat, especially after today, after he had gotten upset with Rand over him not telling them about how they could travel across the world in hours, could travel home anytime Rand wanted. Yet I do not trust my friends enough to tell them of my eyes? I should at least tell Rand. He would understand, at the very least. He shook his shaggy head, taking another bite of gooseberry pie.

Sometimes, and he felt bad every time, Perrin really wondered how much Rand was still the Rand he used to know, and how much was the Dragon Reborn. He was so different now; he had only taken Perrin to Sunday, to see his family, because Rand had an argument with Moiraine Sedai about how to move forward, or so he overheard some Shienaran’s say. For his quest, for his duty, not for Perrin and Mat themselves, whatever the benefit. Though Perrin did believe Rand when he said he would have told them soon. It's just… did that mean days, or weeks?

Still, Perrin thought he could not rightly complain aloud. Seeing his family again, seeing his Da and Ma, little Paet and swiftly growing Deselle, and Adora nearly an adult, growing tall like Ma, tall like Perrin, it filled his heart near full to bursting. And Rand had mentioned visiting once a week to check on the sailors, adding that he would be willing to bring Mat and Perrin along. He even mentioned stopping by the Ayabara farm to set out a spot Rand would ‘Door’ to, so Perrin could choose to see his family, and not just the Luhhans. But it all tied back to how he was Rand the Dragon Reborn most of the time these days, not to Rand, the friend of Mat and Perrin. Most things now about Rand tied back to what he was these days, not who he used to be.

It was amazing and terrifying the things Rand could do, just with his mind and will and the One Power. Perrin had seen the full extent of Rand’s training from Moiraine and it shook him to his core. And any other man would almost assuredly be beginning to go mad if they tried to channel as much as Rand had today. Almost made Perrin’s problems look miniscule, Rand’s did. Perhaps Perrin really should tell him about his golden eyes? He took another bite of pie, the tart green gooseberries tickling his tongue as he gazed at Rand, sitting and smiling on the blanket next to them, the smell of relaxation wafting from him. It was good Rand felt relaxed, after such a morning, but he leaned a bit too close to Moiraine as he and Tam sat with the Cauthons, and enjoyed themselves. That did not matter though, not right now. Soon the whole village would know the truth about Rand, even if it was only rumor and hearsay from drunk, bored sailors, and Cenn Buie, who certainly won’t keep his mouth shut. And they would believe it too, when Rand and Mat and Perrin kept coming back without crossing the Taren, every week.

“Perrin, dear. You seem lost in your head, would you like to speak about it?” his mother, Joslyn Aybara, asked, in that soothing tone of hers, smelling of acceptance, and a little worry. Paet was off running around with the young al’Carr and Thane boys, the three thick as thieves, like Rand and Mat and he were at their age, though Egwene was always there too, in those days when they were younger. His father was talking with Master Luhhan, and Adora, fascinated by Min’s clothes, was over at the Cauthon blanket talking avidly with Rand’s third wife, not that she knew who Min truly was. Of his immediate family, only Deselle still sat on their blanket, idly chewing nuts baked in cinnamon and honey, at ease.

Perrin always used to talk to his mother about his problems, before he left at age twelve to apprentice with Master Luhhan. He tried it a couple times with Mistress Luhhan, and she attempted to help, but it just wasn’t the same. She didn’t have the kind understanding of his mother. So he had started thinking things through more and more—especially as he grew larger, and hasty actions meant someone could get hurt—sometimes coming to Master Luhhan for help if it was a matter the blacksmith could assist with. But it had been over seven years since he last sat with his mother and spilled his problems to her, talking them out, figuring out what to do. He suddenly missed it, missed that comfort, the solid presence of someone who knows better, and cares about you, giving advice. Moiraine was the first but certainly not the second. She only cared about Rand, girls who could channel, and Lan, probably. Everything else was just a tool on her tool belt, and any advice she would be tainted, Perrin felt.

After nearly a minute of thinking, Perrin spoke with a low rumble. “Yes, I think I do.”

Joslyn Aybara nodded once as if she expected no other response, and stood, reaching a gentle hand down to lift Perrin up. She took him over by the Winespring Water, where the babbling spring would cover up any conversation they had. They took their boots and socks off, dipping their feet into the water as they sat on the mossy bank. The cool water felt refreshing on his feet. “So what has my eldest tied up tighter than bark on a log? Something about Rand? You kept glancing over at him.”

Perrin nodded, sheepishly. It felt good though, to know she could still so easily read him. It would help. “Ma, I don’t know how to say this, without just saying it.”

“Then tell me, Perrin. I’ll accept you, no matter what,” Joslyn said with a soft smile and searching eyes, and Perrin could smell the refreshing smell of sincerity on her, still mixed with worry, and a hint of shame.

Perrin took a deep breath, and looked his mother dead in the eyes. “Rand is the Dragon Reborn.”

His mother looked flabbergasted at the completely unexpected statement. Then worried, before ending with thoughtful. Her smell was a roil of emotions in his nose, causing him to wince involuntarily.

“Tell me why you think this, Perrin. That is a very… bold statement to make, and not even close to what I thought you were about to say,” she finished, with a small, rueful chuckle.

That piqued Perrin’s curiosity, I wonder what she thought I was going to say?, but he decided to ask later. For now, he mustered up the prophecies that Moiraine Sedai had spoken, the signs and symbols that meant Rand was the Dragon, choosing to not tell his mother about the spirit or Rand’s…. revelations. Sailors were still arguing whether or not Rand was mad when they left the al’Thor farm, though Rand had not seemed to notice. No need to worry his mother further than he had to.

“One thing you have to know is that Rand is adopted. He wasn’t born to the al’Thor’s,” Perrin said, carefully, eyeing his mother’s face.

His mother nodded. “I know,” she said simply, then at Perrin’s look of confusion, explained. “Kari al’Thor didn’t produce much milk, for it was not her natural babe, so I stayed at their farm for every other week as a milknurse when they returned from the Aiel War. Natti Cauthon was the other. You three have been together one way or another ever since near the beginning, Perrin. But what does that have to do with Rand supposedly being that man, honey?” Her last sentence spoken carefully, with concern.

The words poured from Perrin, his mother’s mouth gaping the more he spoke. “He was born to an Aiel woman, a soldier, one of their Maidens of the Spear, and the prophecies say the Dragon will be reborn of a maiden wedded to no man. Born on Dragonmount, just like they say, and he is marked now, with a heron and a dragon. Once to set his path, and once for memories lost, like the memories he lost when he fought... It does not matter. Moiraine Sedai told us all today he was the Dragon Reborn, but I’ve known for over a month.” He stops there, shuts his mouth and waits.

“The Aes Sedai said he was… that Rand is… Can he channel?” She must have seen the answer on his face, because his mother, always kind, looked disgusted right then, her face twisted and strange, her scent bitter and sharp, making his nose burn. “Light, Perrin, do not tell me he has.. has he channeled around you?” The word came out in a sharp hiss. Fear is the most obvious scent, a sour smell, followed by disgust.

Perrin frowned, but stopped his mouth from angrily replying without thinking. This was his mother. She would understand. She had to. “Rand is… different, Ma, different from other men like him. He has some kind of protection from it, from the Taint. He’s still Rand. He’s done good and he won’t go mad,” Perrin explained, a little desperately.

“You have.” His mother stared in horror at him. “Light protect me, you have.”

Perrin felt unmoored. This wasn’t going how he planned. His mother wasn’t responding in the way he thought she would at all. Will everyone in the Village Council and the Women’s Circle act the same way? “He saved our lives today, Ma. I would have died aboard a burning boat, or to Trollocs. And twice before, he saved our lives. Three times he’s gone out and fought dozens if not hundreds of Trollocs and three times he’s beaten them back.” Perrin paused. “He’s… he’s still Rand, he is. It’s just that he has to be the Dragon Reborn as well. And that’s kind of the issue I have. It seems like he’s mostly the Dragon instead of Rand. I… miss him, Ma.”

His words wash over her, and her eyes appeared to be looking beyond Perrin. “Lews Therin Kinslayer, reborn as poor Rand. This is true, you’re not pulling my leg? Mat is not about to appear and declare this his greatest prank?” His mother's disgust had receded, and now she looked simply looked shocked, and sickly curious, with a lingering sour fear..

Perrin felt desperate and the words burst like a torrent as he spoke faster than he had in years. “Mother, yes this is true! Light burn me, I’m not playing a prank,”—“Language!” his mother said forcefully.—“I’ve had to deal with this basically alone the past month, and Mat is no help to talk to because he got all riled up about Rand and wasn’t thinking straight, and the Ogier merely wants to research and record, and Egwene was some help, but she loves him so I couldn’t talk about everything, and Nynaeve was no help at all, the sourpuss. Rand’s so busy with all his training to become the Dragon Reborn that he rarely has time for me and I certainly cannot discuss him to his face. I just wanted to talk like we used to, and figure it all out, but then your face twisted and…” he said, slumping, dejected. His mother hated Rand now, and it was all his fault because he couldn’t keep a secret. You oaf, Perrin. You ox-brained oaf.

After a minute of quiet silence, with only the noise of the Winespring and the far off chatter and shouts of Sunday games. His mother sighed and put an arm around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. “I’m sorry, honey, for how I reacted, it’s just… difficult to hear. It sounds like you’ve had a hard month. And you’ll have to tell me about this Ogier later. But, yes. I think I can… I can try to just listen and give advice. Just… poor Rand.”

“Poor Rand,” muttered Perrin. “I don’t know about that. He seems to be enjoying his new life, even though he’s the Dragon Reborn! He’s become different from who he used to be, really serious. He’s stronger, faster, smarter, and he’s stubborn, but in a dutiful way. Completely head over heels for the Aes Sedai, maybe even more than Egwene, and will do anything she says, nearly. I couldn’t have imagined it when we first left. He was as scared of her as we all are.”

“Rand’s in love with the Aes Sedai? That’s cute. Dangerous but cute.” his mother said, trying for an amused grin that only looked slightly off. She glanced over at the Cauthon blanket in the distance. “She must consider him like a puppy, fun to pet and play with until it makes a mess all over your rug.”

If only… “That is the thing, Ma, that is the thing! She does love him back. They got married through some kind of One Power thing, and so did Rand and Egwene.”

“He married… both of them? How? Why? Does Tam know?” His mother looked puzzled, as if she could not quite grasp the concept, and a little lost.

Perrin just sighed and set to work explaining the insanity that was living in the wake of Rand al’Thor’s life these days. It would be an hour before his mother finally stopped asking questions, and another half hour before they finished speaking. The others were long gone to hold a meeting in the Winespring Inn without Perrin. In the end, talking with his mother had settled his mind. Rand had a duty now, a job even, as the Dragon Reborn, and Perrin would try not to feel jealous or distant from Rand because he didn’t have more time for Perrin, nor should he blame Rand for enjoying what he can about his life. His mother explained that it was simply part of growing up, another part of childhood lost, and would have happened in some form in the next few years, anyway, as wives and children and their livelihoods took up more and more time. That in time they will find a new equilibrium for their friendship. He even told her about his eyes and the wolves, in the end. She wasn’t scared of him, but for him, he could smell it, and that made all the difference to Perrin.

I entered the empty common room of the Winespring Inn, looking far smaller than it felt in my memories. In front of me the Village Council immediately grabbed chairs and went to sit, before a woman with a graying braid and kind eyes coughed, Bran suddenly stood straight, and delivered the same chair he was about to sit in to that woman, Marin al’Vere, his wife. Haral Luhhan delivered a chair for Alsbet Luhhan, a large woman taller than most men with a sour look on her face, and a tall man with a practiced smile grabbed a chair for the third woman, a stern-looking woman with grey streaking her curly black hair, while Abell Cauthon got a seat for a slim horse-faced woman with gray hair in a braid.

Soon enough they were all seated, while some of us still stood. Mat wouldn’t look at the Council straight, staring at his feet and looking sheepish and all of twelve years old, while Perrin was off having a heart-to-heart with his mother I could not bear to interrupt. Min had taken a seat at a table nearby, while Lan went and grabbed a chair for Moiraine. An older man, who must be Cenn, made to protest, but a look from Bran al’Vere stopped him. I stood straight and wore a genial smile, examining each person in turn, matching them to the descriptions Mat and Perrin provided..

Soon enough everyone introduced themselves. Four women composed the Women’s Circle. They were Marin al’Vere, wife of the Mayor, Alsbet Luhhan, wife of the blacksmith, the stern woman was the Wisdom of Deven Ride, Marva Mallen, and was temporary until Nynaeve returned—unfortunately I had to be the one to break the news about her—while the last was the village woman, Neysa Ayellin.

The men of the Village Council numbered eight. Brandelwyn al’Vere, Mayor of Emond’s Field and innkeep of the Winespring Inn, a round and happy-faced man who looked surprisingly serious today. Tamlin al’Thor, my father and a retired soldier turned farmer. He also looked serious, not having expected to see me for another week, so he knew something was wrong, though I had not had time or space to take him away alone, and speak with him. Haral Luhhan, the village blacksmith whom Perrin was apprenticed to before he left. A large man, taller than I was with arms like tree trunks and a stern look on his face.

There was Cenn Buie, local thatcher renowned for being cantankerous and distrustful, according to Mat and Perrin. The old man was as gnarled and dark as an old root, with a scratchy voice, beady eyes and thinning hair. Today he used a walking staff as tall as himself to move around with a steady thump.

Jon Thane, owner of the mill adjacent to the Winespring Water, a man of average height and darker coloring, with deep brown hair tied back in a ponytail. He was known, apparently, for his exacting personality, requiring his workers to do everything right the first time or face his wrath.

Rowan Hurn, farmer, a man nearly as tall as Perrin but much thinner, with a winning smile. Neither Mat nor Perrin knew much about him, except that Master Luhhan enjoyed his company, and that the Hurns were a solid, reliable family.

Samel Crawe, farmer, a shorter man, horse-faced with a long nose, tan skin and rough hands. A stolid farmer that speaks for much of the farming families. A quiet man, reliable and boring according to Mat.

And finally, Abell Cauthon, farmer and horsetrader, who resembled an older graying version of his son, Mat. He was well known as being an expert in both the quarterstaff and the Two Rivers longbow, and better than my father in quarterstaff, but worse in the longbow. Emond Fielders regarded him as the finest horse trader in the Two Rivers; always seemingly able to secure a superior trade with either outlander merchants or Taren Ferry men.

To these twelve people I would once more tell the truth of my nature, the curse and blessings I bear. I could only hope that any bonds between us would hold against the horrible truth. I took a deep breath, in through my nose and out through my mouth.

“Why have you gathered us all here today, Rand?” Bran asked leadingly.

“Before I speak on that, there is a truth about me all must know first, to understand. Da, if you would be willing to explain how you found me?”

Tam stared me in the eyes, and I nodded. With a sigh, he spoke. “Rand was not born of Kari and I, truthfully. Some of you know that already. I found him, on the third morning of the Battle of the Shining Walls, next to a dead Aiel woman—one of their women warriors, a Maiden of the Spear—squalling his head off. His hair was red though, red like Kari’s and I took it as a sign. He was our miracle baby, after she…” He paused, trailing off, eyes distant.

Moiraine took up the slack. “On that same day, before dawn, I was an Accepted of the White Tower, attending to the then Amyrlin Seat and her Keeper of the Chronicles. That Keeper made a Foretelling, a prophecy using the One Power. She saw the Dragon would be Reborn that morning, on Dragonmount.”

Marin al’Vere had a look of horrified realization and disbelief, as did Bran and Haral. My father looked sad, regretful. Cenn Buie looked like he needed to spit, and others simply look scared, scared of the mention of the Dragon, scared of the idea that the Dragon was Reborn. But they hadn’t realized the full truth yet.

“ ‘On the slopes of Dragonmount shall he be born, born of a maiden wedded to no man. He will be of the ancient blood, and raised by the old blood.’ These are the words of the Karaethon Cycle, the Prophecies of the Dragon, which all must heed if they are to recognize his coming. Rand was born of a Maiden of the Spear, of the Aiel who have lived in the Waste since the Breaking of the World, and raised by Tam al’Thor in the Two Rivers that was once Manetheren, of the Covenant of Ten Nations.” She held up my arm, baring my right palm and forearm. “ ‘Twice and twice shall he be marked, twice to live, and twice to die. Once the heron, to set his path. Twice the heron, to name him true. Once the Dragon, for remembrance lost. Twice the Dragon, for the price he must pay.’ Rand is marked once by a heron and once by a dragon, a creature serpent-like, with the mane and four legs like a lion, after losing parts of his memory. Rand al’Thor is the Dragon Reborn, this I swear on the Light, and the hope of my salvation and rebirth, and Tarmon Gai’dan looms. We require your—”

The room had erupted in chaos, fear, and denial at Moiraine’s words. Cenn Buie was yelling, Alsbet looked ready to punch someone’s lights out, Jon Thane was red-faced and trembling. They looked at me as if I were a wild animal stuck in the room with me. Only Bran and Harral and my father had any kind of sympathy, amongst the Village Council, while Marin and the other women looked at me with varying states pity and fear. For the men it was disgust, like I was a pile of dogshit, or a rotted corpse covered in flies being presented before them. How quickly they turned.

“SILENCE!” Lan shouted into the cacophony, cutting it short. “You will listen, when Moiraine Sedai speaks.”

The room quieted down, staring worriedly at the Warder they suddenly realized stood amongst them, hand casually holding the hilt of his sheathed swords. Still they stared at me. Watching me.

Moiraine continued as if no one had spoken. “We require your aid, men and women of Emond’s Field. I told you the truth of Rand so you would be prepared for your charges, and the words they will inevitably speak, for they know the truth, just as you do now, and have seen Rand al’Thor call upon fire and lightning. Fifteen sailors and the First Mate of the ship the Seamaid’s Kiss will be arriving this evening to spend the next few weeks in your village. This is non-negotiable, they must stay in the village and cannot leave. To do otherwise would risk disaster.” I reached for the Oneness, burning away all my roiling emotions, until my mind lay as smooth as glass.

Cenn Buie stamped his staff and barked a laugh. “And you think just because you’re an Aes Sedai, and that fool boy of Tam’s is a False Dragon, a madman, that you can tell us Emond’s Fielders what to do?”

My father glared at the man, but Abell Cauthon spoke up as well, his tone frustrated. “I’m not one to agree with Cenn, but Moiraine Sedai, as I said before, you cannot simply tell us what to do. This is the Two Rivers and we are far from your White Tower.” There was a hint of a threat in that statement that Lan frowned at.

Moiraine plowed onwards, the nigh-unstoppable force that she was, simply smiling at the men but not acknowledging what they said. My wife, folks, came the errant, silly thought. I squashed it like a spider and held on to the distance the Oneness afforded me. Their fear, their worry, their pity, their hate. All of it could not reach me. “I will be paying, of course, as my, as Rand so graciously offered. One gold mark a week for each sailor. Fifteen gold marks, Borderland’s weight.”

Marin al’Vere spoke up, before any men could speak, specifically . “As a member of the Women’s Circle, I must agree that taking in fifteen unknown men, and sailors to boot, is a… unpalatable proposition, normally. But I think a gold coin for each sailor is more than generous enough to pay for any damages such men cause, don’t you dear?” She gave her husband a piercing look for a brief second. Bran startled, but quickly agreed.

“I will be visiting each week, with Mat and Perrin, to check on the sailors and make sure they are behaving. If any cause trouble they can come back with me, and face the Shadow by my side, as they ungraciously spat on my kind heart, and on the compassion of Emond’s Field.” I said, trying to win them over. It did not work. The idea I would be coming back seemed to strike fear in a number of the villagers.

“You’ll be visiting through the One Power?” asked Rowan Hurn, cautiously, a look of disgust crossing his face as he said the words.

I nodded, and the man flinched as I looked at him, but met my eyes. “Through the One Power I can travel across the Westlands in hours.”

Cenn Buie laughed, a bitter hacking sound, standing up to make to leave. “What a load of cow manure and rotten worms. Why are we listening to this madman? We should be throwing them out!”

The Wisdom spoke up, voice stern. “Sit down, Cenn Buie. The boy shows no signs of madness, no talking or twitching eyes, no shakes, no hallucinations, no sudden mood changes or disorientation. He may be a fool, but he is not mad. Not yet, at least. And the stories say Aes Sedai used to travel the world in a single step. The Aes Sedai now cannot, but they did before, and for all we know, young Rand has figured it out again. Perhaps it is easier for men. The stories say there is little an Aes Sedai of the Age of Legends could not do.”

“The black Door.” Haral Luhhan stated, his voice low and gravelly and full of realization. “The black Door I saw yesterday, the Aes Sedai did not make it, did she?”

That caused confusion, and I clarified. “I visited my father yesterday, while Master Luhhan and Master al’Vere were visiting.” Marin and Alsbet frowned simultaneously, and their husbands flinched. I continued before either woman could speak. “As for today, we were attacked, our boat beached on the bank of the river. Rather than risk a forest filled with shadowspawn and certain death, I opened a Door to travel to Emond’s Field, and later tonight, when the moon is high in the sky, we will be moving on from Emond’s Field to our true destination. The sailors who are staying with you are those who chose not to accompany me, for various reasons. It is almost certain they will spread rumors about me being the Dragon Reborn, and telling tales of the battle, despite my telling them not to. That is why we told you who I am. To prepare you, and to prepare you for the news when I announce myself. It is sure to shake Emond’s Field just as much as it shakes you all.”

Samel Crawe spoke up in the silence, a quiet voice with a touch of fear. “What do you intend to do, as you go around claiming you’re the Dragon Reborn? Where does Emond’s Field figure into you and your Aes Sedai’s plans?”

I looked straight at him, and he wouldn’t meet my gaze, looking away. “I have no plans for Emond’s Field or the Two Rivers other than regularly visiting my father, and defending my home if needed, from any who would attack it. As for my plans as Dragon Reborn, I intend to save the world, as much as possible. Dark days lie ahead of us, and I intend to be the Light that leads the way.”

From there Moiraine took lead once more to discuss the exact terms of the agreement, mostly with Marin and Bran, and it was decided that half the gold would go to the village fund, and half to the Winespring Inn. Once that was finished, then came the questions about what exactly we’ve been doing since we left, and why we never returned with the Wisdom, and how I knew I was the Dragon Reborn for sure. After nearly two hours of answering questions, and each of us, including Mat, telling parts of our tale so far, while I demonstrated the so’shan and channeling, all the women, and some men—Haral, Samel, Bran, Tam of course, and maybe even Abell—believed I might really be to the Dragon Reborn, and moreover the al’Vere’s and the Luhhan’s seemed to believe me when I said that I could keep the madness at bay. Or at least said they did.

I felt wrung out to dry as I left the Winespring Inn, any good feelings from the feast gone from dealing with people who sometimes acted as if I was a step away from slaughtering them, or destroying the village, when I wasn’t a fool boy tied up in an Aes Sedai plot. Cenn Buie was the worst, and Jon Thane was not far behind. Even Abell Cauthon didn’t seem to complete believe me, nor was he sure how to treat me now. This was not the official return to Emond’s Field that I wanted, nor the looks of pity from the women, and disgust from the men. I thought, perhaps, they would be able to look past it. And some did. It is just… it took them long enough that the hurt set in. I would be glad to be in Whitebridge after nightfall.

I was in a mood for the rest of Sunday, and so was Moiraine, which wasn’t helped by having to dodge more and more questions in between the games held on Sunday afternoon. The Council and the Circle had agreed to let the sailors and soldiers visit the Green and hints of our strange tale had begun to spread amongst the Emond Fielders, from sailors unwilling to speak quietly or away from others despite my request. That all these men showed up not from the north, but the west, yet claimed to be sailors from Tar Valon, and soldiers from Shienar, it made no sense to folks, and Cenn Buie’s grumbling about a ‘fool boy caught up in the White Tower’ helped none, as did Jon Thane bitter looks, or the look of fear on Neysa Ayellin’s face whenever our eyes met—she believed, but it made her no less terrified of me. I was glad when Moiraine gave me the choice to scout ahead—as the setting sun outlined the Mountains of Mist and the bonfires were to start shortly, the last of the games finishing—and find a better spot to open the door than in the square. I just about fled into the nearby woods and as I was about to open a Door I paused, noticing Min had followed my escape. Soon enough she tromped through the woods and gave me a little smile and a wave.

“Thought you might want company, sheepherder. No need for you to be alone right now.”

I gave a half smile, and my heart warmed. She knew how I felt, all the morose and bitter feelings, yet came and braved them, anyway. “Thanks Min,” I said sincerely, reaching out a hand, feeling better already. She stepped forward and laced her fingers into mine with a huff.

“Of course, you lunk-head,” she said with only the slightest of blushes. I stared for a moment, her big eyes, smoky and seductive, the blush on her cheeks and her bright red mouth, and the bob of brown hair outlining her pretty face. Light, a kiss would be nice right now. Something to lose myself in. I wonder if she’d push me away if I tried?

She must have seen something in me, in my face, because she swatted my arm and said, “Down, boy. I am not Moiraine. You don’t get to look at me with those kinds of eyes yet.” She was blushing much harder now, but she had a look of firm resolve on her face. “I won’t be as easy as she is. You’ll have to earn it.”

“Mmm.” I nodded in reluctant acceptance. “Sorry, Min. I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable!” she protested fiercely. “I’m just not ready yet. I need time to get used to all of this, Rand. It is still a lot to handle, to understand, everything about you.”

I raised her hand and planted a soft kiss on it. “Take all the time you need, my sweet Lady Min,” I could not help saying, knowing it would it her off.

“Ewww. No. Do not call me that, you lummox,” Min said with a shudder, unable to hide the smile on her face.

“~Oh Lady Min, with her eyes of darkest tourmaline, and her biting tongue, how it tugs on my heartstrings~!” I sung, teasing her.

She tugged her hand out of mine, and crossed her arms underneath her breasts, trying to look unamused. “If your mood has improved, can we get going? Or would you like to continue playing a fool until you become one?”

Sheepishly, though honestly in a better mood because of Min, I opened the Door and stepped through onto the deck of the Seamaid’s Kiss, this iteration of the ship with a bed on the prow. Min stepped through behind me, and the Door closed. She looked over the deck and raised her eyebrow at me. “Rand…?” her voiced said, with false casualness, a warning tone underneath.

“Not for that, not for that,” I said with my hands raised. “It’s just… we’ve never had a chance to snuggle, alone without Moiraine, and I thought it would be nice is all. When I was in Shienar they alternated, Moiraine and Egwene, but I haven’t spent much time with you alone, just relaxing. And… I’d like to. That is okay?”

Min sighed, looking slightly exasperated, but felt amused and happy in the bond as much as she felt annoyed, like tinkling bells over an arythmic drum. “Fine, we can snuggle, Rand, but that's it! You better not try to cop a feel or steal a kiss.”

“I’m not some horny mutt,” I muttered, as we approached the bed, but wisely did not say more when Min gave me another look, with an arched brow that could have cut steel. I had chosen a recreation of Moiraine’s bed from Fal Dara, and it was like sleeping on a cloud. I only got to lie on it a few times, when Moiraine wanted daytime cuddles. A sudden thought came to me, like a lightning bolt out of the blue. …Is Moiraine training me to want to snuggle and cuddle? And is it a bad thing if she is?

I dismissed such thoughts as paranoia as we lay there, cuddling underneath the bedsheet, and Min talked about the gossip of Emond’s Field she had heard from Mat and Perrin’s sisters, who all had seemed intrigued and confused by her clothing, and excited by her tales of ‘city life’. They had latched on to Min and asked her all sorts of things, and told her all sorts of things as well. As she spoke, she idly played my coat buttons or drummed her fingers on my chest, or slipped a hand around me and pulled herself closer. It was nice to just sit and listen and not think about anything important, just the intricate web of lives that was Emond’s Field, and Min’s low voice, beautiful and a little husky. After about ten minutes we were there.

I opened a Door and peered out at the grand square where the titular Whitebridge touched the ground, surrounded by inns and all kinds of shops. It was nearly empty, and no one looked in our direction for the moment. Quickly we snuck through and immediately I closed the Door, leaving us in an empty corner of the square. Only a few shop owners were out to put away wares and stands in the twilight, and a handful of travelers arriving late headed to different inns. It wasn’t quiet, though. The inns sounded with the roar of crowded common rooms, and the buzz of music, and almost immediately the inn closest to us opened, and a wave of noise pour out as a drunk was unceremoniously kicked out by a large man, most likely a bouncer, who gave us a nod. We came at the perfect time, it seemed. Ta’veren luck was at work.

I looked at Min, standing there so pretty in the lamplight. “Can we hold hands?”

“Can we hold hands….” she said considering, then looked at me. “I don’t know, can we? It might be too much for my maiden heart, Rand,” she teased, rolling her eyes.

Eagerly I took it. “I just… in case you didn’t actually like it, I wanted to ask.”

“Well, you don’t need to ask, silly. I am your wife, supposedly, and I will hold your hand. Fool,” she said fondly.

I took her slim hand in my, lacing our fingers together and taking joy in simply being near Min, as I lead her to the Whitebridge.

“Supposedly?” I asked, a questioning tone in my voice.

Min got a little flustered. “Well, you keep saying it like its true, and the Aes Sedai certainly seems agreeable to be your wife, and I’m sure your village girl was ecstatic, but I don’t really know you that well.” She swung our hands, glancing at me. “So it still seems a bit odd to consider us married, I guess. You and I are more like betrothed right now, than anything else. There’s nothing in the prophecy that actually names us wives. That’s all you.”

I felt a little lost. “But I want you to be my wives, if you are to be anything. That gives you legitimacy, and it is the right thing to do. If you are to be bound to me, let it be through ties of marriage.”

“Rand, that doesn’t change the fact that other men don’t marry multiple women, besides the Aiel who are known savages. And not with magic sticks.”

“Well I’m different from most men, then.” I said a bit forcefully. “I will have all six of you as my wives, and hold you all in my heart, or die trying.” The image of a funeral bier flashed forcefully through my mind and Min’s hand squeezed mine for a moment.

“You will not die,” she added, forcefully, stopping a third of the way up the bridge and turning to face me, eyes fierce. She seemed to know exactly what I thought.

“I will not die,” I agreed, tiredly.

She nodded as if that was all she needed to hear, but her hand held mine a little tighter.

“It’s not even that I don’t want to be your wife, Rand. It’s just… it’s just strange is all. I’m simply not used to it yet. Light, I haven’t even kissed you yet, let alone…” She blushed.

“Take all the time you need. A week or a year or a decade, I will wait. And even if we only ever hold hands, you will be my wife still, Min. Don’t feel like you need to push yourself for me.”

“Mmm,” she said with a nod.

We changed then to speaking of inconsequential things—and took a few minutes to gaze from the top of the Whitebridge at the fall of night over the countryside as the sun finished setting—until we found a good clearing only a few minutes west of where the bridge set down, on the western bank of the Arinelle. Then we began our return to Emond’s Field, while we cuddled once more, Min with her head on my chest nestled tight against me, playing with the buttons on my coat as we lay quietly. I slowly began to dread leaving the bed, and the comfort of Min. What kind of stories had spread in the hour or so we were gone, as night fell and the bonfires were lit? Would the soldiers speak of the corpses fires in Shienar we used to as lights to leave camp after the second ambush? Would the sailors speak of a man causing a fire to disperse with the wave of his hand? Of a man who survived lightning, only to shoot it out of his fingers?

“What are you worrying about?” Min asked, interrupting my thoughts.

“The sailors. The soldiers. What stories they’ve told. What the village knows.”

“Rand… You cannot worry about things like that.”

“I cannot help but worry.”

“Then try to focus on something else.”

So I slid down the bed and put my arms around Min, nuzzling into the neck and collarbone as I squeezed her soft body tight against mine.

She slapped me on the head, though without much force. “I did not mean me, you big oaf!”

I took a deep breath of her scent, a lightly floral perfume, and let her go, rolling onto my back and staring into the darkness of Darkspace. “If you have forbidden wife-embracing, do you want to enter a circle with me instead, and practice channeling?”

Min looked conflicted. “I… I do, Rand, but I really shouldn’t practice without Moiraine or Verin Sedai. They made it pretty clear that I wasn’t supposed to channel alone with you yet.”

I frowned, giving a huff of annoyance. “Well then, I guess I’ll work on it alone. I don’t wish to get you in trouble with Aes Sedai.”

We lay there once more, as I started working on three swords of Fire, causing the dancing red and orange flames to re-enact various sword forms, perfecting my dexterity and control with the weave, an idle hand directing them in unison. This took my focus off my circling thoughts.

She looked at me, amused. “Men and their swords,” she said with a huff. “Did you have fun showing off today?”

I smiled. “Lan took me more seriously then he ever has and I managed to win. Or at least force Moiraine to stop us.”

We chatted some more, which made it harder to focus, making my practice more difficult, but fighting made it hard to focus too, which made it training. After we had made it back to Emond's Field the blades of flame winked out, and we stepped back out into the clearing, I realized something. I had just disappeared with Min for about an hour into the woods, and we were going to return together.

Maybe no one will notice? I thought hopefully, as we tramped through the woods into the light of the bonfires.

They noticed. Marin al’Vere did not seem to know whether to be upset or grateful I was showing attention to a woman that was not Egwene. Bran frowned and frowned deeper the more my father spoke in his ear. The Cauthon and Aybara girls surrounded Min and dragged her away in fits of giggles, and I made my way over to stand with Mat and Perrin, who stood a way off from the dancing, despite Abell Cauthon’s frown.

Mat grinned at me and gave me a waggle of the eyebrows. “Had a good ol’ time with Min, did you?”

“Oh stop, it’s not like I have even kissed her yet, Mat. She just was accompanying me to keep my mood up.”

Perrin frowned, and Mat’s grin faltered, then resumed. “So you going to dance with her and Moiraine? Make the village rumors grow even wilder?”

Around a large bonfire was an ever-changing group of dancers, married couples slowly swaying, young children dancing freely, laughing, and young couples, the women with flowers in their hair, dancing closely around the fire, eyes only for each other. I was supposed to dance with Egwene, with flowers in her hair. If I was brave or foolish enough, I’d travel to the White Tower this very night and spirit her out. But I was neither. Would she blame me if I danced with Moiraine and Min? I had to hope not, because it was then that I saw a vision of beauty step before me.

The sun and stars of her dark blue dress shimmered in the firelight, and white blossoms dotted Moiraine’s dark braid, done in the Two Rivers style. Her feet were bare for dancing on the Green and she had a radiant smile on her face that lit my heart. “Yes,” I told Mat, “Yes, I think I am.” I stepped forward and took her hand.

Her eyes were like dark pools in the firelight that drew me in, as our fingers laced together, and her melodious voice shook me from my gazing. “My dear Rand, would you like to dance with me?”

“Always.”

“The Aes Sedai is wearing flowers in her hair!” came the excited squeak from Deselle, the younger Aybara girl. She was pink-cheeked from stealing sips of Min’s cider, and quite the chatterbox. “And she’s dancing with RAND! Min! She’s dancing with your man with flowers in her hair. You must stop her!” Moiraine, you truly cannot help yourself with him, can you? Min thought, ruefully.

Eldrin Cauthon craned her neck around, sitting up a little. “Really? Oh, I see them! They’re close~! Oooo, Min. You cannot let her win, after you were so daring today!”

Min scoffed, relaxed. “Let them. Rand is mine as much as I am Rand’s. Let the silly Aes Sedai put flowers in her hair and braid it like a village woman.” That seems a suitable Aes Sedai answer, if I am forced to become one in spirit if not deed.

Deselle pouted, quite put out. “But that means she wants to marry him, Min! And I know Rand was supposed to marry Egwene, everyone knew that, but they say she’s gone to the White Tower to become an Aes Sedai, now, and Aes Sedai do not marry…” She paused, and turned back to stare at Rand and Moiraine, who were lost in their own world, swaying. “Wait. If Aes Sedai don’t marry…?”

Min corrected her, slightly reluctant. “Aes Sedai usually do not marry, but some still do. Generally they marry their Warders.”

Both girls gasped, faces distraught. ““Min!”” they both shrieked, before turning to each other. Deselle gave way to the older Eldrin with a pout. “Min,” Eldrin repeated. “You cannot let her steal him! You have to dance with him with flowers in your hair or the Women’s Circle won’t even consider you in the running. It’s happened before. You don’t want to lose your hance”

“When two women fight over a man, things get dicey,” added Deselle. “You need to make your move as soon as possible.”

“I am content to let her make her mark, girls. She loves Rand and I… I do not. Not yet.” But Light if the oaf is not easy on the eyes, and kind, hardworking and respectful. It is hard to not like him.

Groans of despair rang out, causing others to stare at their little group. Min blushed and wished the girls would be a little quieter. This wasn’t a conversation for everyone. Light, why must my love life be the topic of a twelve- and fourteen-year-old? Burn you, Rand al’Thor!

“He likes you though! You were in the woods for an hour, and he likes your clothing, as stran- different as they are. He was staring at you all day. This is your chance to let him know! You have to take it!” Deselle begged.

Min frowned, beginning to not like how pushy the younger girl was being.

Joslyn Aybara approached their blanket, having caught a glance of the brewing argument. She was a beautiful woman, with raven-dark hair shining in the bonfire’s light, and to Min she felt more like some noble lady than a farmer’s wife for a moment. Her face twitched a little at Min, but she smiled at her daughter and the younger Cauthon girl. “Is there something wrong, Deselle? You’re quite animated.”

The girl turned and whined to her mother. “Maaaaaaaa, Min won’t put flowers in her hair and dance with Rand. She’s going to let the Aes Sedai win his heart!” She’s already won, Min couldn’t help thinking, then pushed the thought away.

“Have you considered she doesn’t feel ready for something as big as marriage yet, even if she likes Rand in that way?” Joslyn said quietly, as she sat down and put an arm around her daughter. Both girls frowned at that, not much liking such a thought. It wasn’t romantic.

“But… But Rand’s been looking at Min all day and she at him, and they went off in the woods together,” Eldrin said, confused, as if that explained everything. I should have never followed the fool sheepherder into the woods. I should have let him be morose and ‘woe is me’, Min thought, a little bitterly. If she had known her action would cause such a stir… Well, she probably still would have gone, if she had to admit it. It’s hard to let him wallow in those feelings when she could feel them herself, in that bundle in the back of her mind. But she would have been more careful instead of just following him like a fool.

Joslyn considered Min carefully, eyeing the young woman with a knowing look. “Rand also spent all day looking at the Aes Sedai like a love-sick fool, girls.” She looked Min straight in the eyes. “Normally I would be on the side of the girls, telling you that you must move quickly to secure Rand, but Perrin told me some things today, Min. Take all the time you need.” Then she turned to the girls. “Have either of you heard of ‘sister-wives’ before?” Min groaned. The blacksmith told her that?! Light burn that hairy ox. “In certain… cultures, but not in the Two Rivers, when two women pursue the same man, instead of fighting over the man they marry him together. They become sisters, these women, as wives who share the same husband. Rand’s mother is from such a culture.” Light, Perrin really told his mother everything! That is an Aes Sedai answer to an astounding degree. She’s good.

The girls were stunned at this information and turned to Min, wide-eyed and seeking confirmation of this outrageous idea. Min groaned internally.

Reluctantly, Min nodded, speaking quietly, “Moiraine Sedai and I will be sister-wives.” And are sister-wives right now, technically, but that information doesn’t need to spread.

Eldrin turned bright red and sputtered, ‘two?!’ while Deselle looked curious. “He must be a real good kisser, then,” she decided, to a snort of amusement from her mother. “A real good kisser, indeed. Is he, Min?”

“I wouldn’t know. You’d have to ask the Aes Sedai.”

“Ask me what?” Min flinched and looked up. Moiraine stood on the edge of their blanket, face flush and skin perfectly clear of any sweat. She looks radiant, holding his hand. Nothing like me. A true beauty. Min held back a frown, trying to reason the thoughts away. Rand cared for her in his own way, and the man was obviously attracted to her. She could not deny that after earlier. She didn’t need to judge herself against Moiraine. She took a deep breath through her nose, like Rand told her, and out through her mouth, feeling herself calm down.

Eldrin squeaked when she saw the Aes Sedai, but Deselle just grinned and spoke. “That If Rand is such a good kisser that you’ll let Min marry him too.”

“Perrin told me about… sister-wives, and I was explaining to the girls so they would understand your… situation,” Joslyn added, obviously uncomfortable.

Moiraine giggled, a clear, tinkling sound that seemed to ring in the air. “He is a very caring, sweet and dutiful young man. As to if he is a good kisser? Well…” she bent down and whispered. “I am quite satisfied with his progress.” Rand blushed and looked away, the fool. He looked quite fetching with blush on his cheeks, in the fire’s light, though. Maybe she should dance with him? And get myself away from the romance obsessed teens, and the Aes Sedai. Min paused. Yes, I’ll dance.

“Alright, I think it’s time for me to dance with Rand, if the romance talk is going to continue,” Min said, standing up and brushing off her breeches and settling her jacket. The Aes Sedai nodded, and dropped down beside Joslyn.

“Please, go ahead, I am finished with him for now,” Moiraine said, as if Min was borrowing Rand. It made Min grit her teeth. I know they’re closer, far closer than Rand and I, but does she have to flaunt it? As she walked past Moiraine, Min impulsively plucked a few blossoms from her braid and wove them into her short hair, giving Rand a glare.

“Well, sheepherder?” she said, when the oaf only stared at her with that dopey smile, taking her in. It is a pretty smile, unfortunately. A pretty smile and a pretty man, but I have to share him. Sometimes it made her want to scream. She had thought it bad when she had to share him with two others, but sharing him with five women, two of which he already loved? Sometimes it felt like she stuck pushing a boulder up a hill that kept getting taller, near a mountain now.

Then he grabbed her hand, breaking her from her thoughts, and lead her off to dance the night away, neither glancing over the shoulder to see Moiraine as she gazed fondly at the young couple, before turning to speak to the young Aybara and Cauthon girls. And only minutes later Min was smiling and laughing as Rand spun her around, as they weaved themselves in and out of the crowd of dancers for nearly half an hour. She danced with him twice more before the dancing died down and it was time to leave. At the end of the night, as she snuggled into the left side of Rand, as the three shared a bed in Whitebridge, she had to admit it turned out to be a pretty good Sunday, all things considered. The feast was great, meeting those girls and just having fun telling tales of Baerlon and listening to the country gossip. Getting to cuddle with him alone on that wonderful bed, able to just talk without Moiraine hovering, was amazing and soothed her soul after such an awful morning of watching him leave to face the Trollocs and Fades alone. And then the dancing! He danced freely, sometimes holding her close and other times they were more energetic, and sometimes they did silly dances to make each other laugh. It completely made up for everything and more, for watching him dance so close to Moiraine, like the older married couples. He was her man, and she was his. Maybe he deserved a kiss or two. Her aunts always said you should only kiss a man if you mean it, and Min thinks she just might mean it now. Just to make sure he knows for certain she likes him.

In the Braem Woods a lonely column of pitted white stone, nearly sixteen feet high and covered in ancient writing and symbols obscured by moss, lay untouched in a clearing near the Erinin. A trap woven of inverted saidar dissipated as a woman in white muttered irritably in the Old Tongue about ‘fool men ruining sure things’ and ‘learning too fast’.

Soon the clearing was empty, and quiet, the portal stone alone once more, as it had been for thousands of years.

Chapter Text

Amadine 17, 998 NE (June 25th)

Egwene followed the Accepted through the halls of the White Tower. Tapestries and paintings covered walls as white as the outside of the tower; patterned tiles made the floor. The Accepted’s white dress was exactly like hers, except for seven narrow bands of color at hem and cuffs. Egwene frowned, looking at that dress. Since yesterday Nynaeve had worn an Accepted’s dress, and she seemed to have no joy of it, nor of the golden ring, a serpent eating its own tail, that marked her level. The few times Egwene had been able to see the Wisdom, Nynaeve’s eyes had seemed shadowed, as if she had seen things she wished with all her heart not to have seen.

“In here,” the Accepted said curtly, gesturing to a door. Named Pedra, she was a short, wiry woman, a little older than Nynaeve, and with a briskness always in her voice. “You’re given this time because it is your first day, but I’ll expect you in the scullery when the gong sounds High, and not one moment later.”

Egwene curtsied, then stuck out her tongue at the Accepted’s retreating back. It might have been only the evening before that Sheriam had finally put her name in the novice book, but already she knew she did not like Pedra. She pushed open the door and went in.

The room was plain and small, with white walls, and there was a young woman, with reddish gold hair spilling around her shoulders, sitting on one of two hard benches. The floor was bare; novices did not get much use of rooms with carpets. Egwene thought the girl was about her own age, but there was a dignity and self-possession about her that made her seem older. The plainly cut novice dress appeared somehow more, on her. Elegant. That was it. There was also a sense of familiarity, though Egwene was certain she had never met the girl.

“My name is Elayne,” she said. She tilted her head, studying Egwene. “And you are Egwene. From Emond’s Field, in the Two Rivers.” She said it as if it had some significance, but went right on anyway. “Someone who has been here a little while is always assigned to a new novice for a few days, to help her find her way. Sit, please.”

Egwene took the other bench, facing Elayne. “I thought the Aes Sedai would teach me, now that I’m finally a novice. But all that’s happened so far is that Pedra woke me a good two hours before first light and put me to sweeping the halls. She says I have to help wash dishes after dinner, too.”

Elayne grimaced. “I hate washing dishes. I never had to—well, that doesn’t matter. You will have training. From now on, you will be at training at this hour every day, as a matter of fact. From breakfast until High, then again from dinner to Trine. If you are especially quick or especially slow, they may take you from supper to Full, as well, but that is usually for more chores.” Elayne’s blue eyes took on a thoughtful expression. “You were born with it, weren’t you?” Egwene nodded. “Yes, I thought I felt it. So was I, born with it. Do not be disappointed if you did not know. You will learn to feel the ability in other women. I had the advantage of growing up around an Aes Sedai.”

Egwene wanted to ask about that—Who grows up with Aes Sedai?—but Elayne went on.

“And also do not be disappointed if it takes you some time before you can achieve anything. With the One Power, I mean. Even the simplest thing takes a little time. Patience is a virtue that must be learned.” Her nose wrinkled. “Sheriam Sedai always says that, and she does her best to make us all learn it, too. Try to run when she says walk, and she’ll have you in her study before you can blink.”

“I’ve had a few lessons already,” Egwene said, trying to sound modest. She opened herself to saidar—that part of it was easiest now—and felt the warmth suffuse her body. She decided to try the biggest thing she knew how to do. She stretched out her hand, and a glowing sphere the size of an apple formed over it, pure light. Then she tugged on the weave slighty, turning it a soft blue. The color wavered slightly—she still could not manage to hold it steady—but it was there. She smiled triumphantly.

Calmly, Elayne held out her hand, and a ball of light appeared above her palm. Hers was pure white and flickered, too.

After a moment, a faint light, a nimbus of silver-gold, glowed all around Elayne. Egwene gasped, and her ball vanished.

Elayne giggled suddenly, and her light went out, both the sphere and the light around her. “You saw it around me?” she said excitedly. “I saw it around you. Sheriam Sedai said I would, eventually. This was the first time. For you, too?”

Egwene nodded, laughing along with the other girl. “That has to mean something. I like you, Elayne. I think we’re going to be friends.”

“I think so, too, Egwene. You are from the Two Rivers, from Emond’s Field. Do you know a boy named Rand al’Thor?”

“I know him.” Abruptly Egwene found herself remembering a tale Rand had told, a tale she had not believed at first, about falling off a wall into a garden and meeting... “You’re the Daughter-Heir of Andor,” she gasped. A girl with the red-gold hair of Andoran royalty, fated for Rand. Could it be?

“Yes,” Elayne said simply. “If Sheriam Sedai as much as heard I’d mentioned it, I think she would have me into her study before I finished talking.”

“Everyone talks about being called to Sheriam’s study. Even the Accepted. Does she scold so fiercely? She seems kindly to me.”

Elayne hesitated, and when she spoke it was slowly, not meeting Egwene’s eye. “She keeps a willow switch on her desk. She says if you can’t learn to follow the rules in a civilized way, she will teach you another way. There are so many rules for novices, it is very hard not to break some of them,” she finished.

“But that’s—that’s horrible! I’m not a child, and neither are you. I won’t be treated as one.”

“But we are children. The Aes Sedai, the full sisters, are the grown women. The Accepted are the young women, old enough to be trusted without someone looking over their shoulders every moment. And novices are the children, to be protected and cared for, guided in the way they should go, and punished when they do what they should not. That is the way Sheriam Sedai explains it. No one is going to punish you over your lessons, not unless you try something you’ve been told not to. It is hard not to try, sometimes; you will find you want to channel as much as you want to breathe. But if you break too many dishes because you are daydreaming when you should be washing, if you’re disrespectful to an Accepted, or leave the Tower without permission, or speak to an Aes Sedai before she speaks to you, or… The only thing to do is the best you can. There isn’t anything else to do.”

“It sounds almost as if they’re trying to make us want to leave,” Egwene protested.

“They aren’t, but then again, they are. Egwene, there are only forty novices in the Tower. Only forty, and no more than seven or eight will become Accepted. That is not enough, Sheriam Sedai says. She says there are not enough Aes Sedai now to do what needs to be done. But the Tower will not… cannot... lower its standards. The Aes Sedai cannot take a woman as a sister if she does not have the ability, and the strength, and the desire. They can’t give the ring and the shawl to one who cannot channel the Power well enough, or who will allow herself to be intimidated, or who will turn back when the road turns rough. Training and testing take care of the channeling, and for strength and desire… Well, if you want to go, they will let you. Once you know enough that you won’t die of ignorance.”

“I suppose,” Egwene said slowly, “Sheriam told us some of that. I never thought about there not being enough Aes Sedai, though.”

“She has a theory. She says we have culled humankind. You know about culling? Cutting out of the herd those animals that have traits you don’t like?” Egwene nodded impatiently; no one could grow up around sheep without knowing about culling the flock. “Sheriam Sedai says that with the Red Ajah hunting down men who could channel for three thousand years, we are culling the ability to channel out of us all. I would not mention this around any Reds, if I were you. Sheriam Sedai has been in more than one shouting match over it, and we are only novices.”

“I won’t.”

Elayne paused, and then said, “Is Rand well?”

Egwene felt a distant stab of jealousy—Elayne was very pretty, just like Moiraine—but over it came a stronger stab of fear. She went over the little she knew of Rand’s one meeting with the Daughter-Heir, reassuring herself: Elayne could not possibly know that Rand could channel.

“Egwene?”

“He is as well as he can be.” I hope he is, the wool-headed, loveable idiot. “He was riding with some Shienaran soldiers the last I saw him.”

“Shienarans! He told me he was a shepherd.” She shook her head. “I find myself thinking of him at the oddest times. Elaida thinks he is important in some way. She didn’t come right out and say so, but she ordered a search for him, and she was in a fury when she learned he had left Caemlyn.”

“Elaida?”

“Elaida Sedai. My mother’s councilor. She is Red Ajah, but Mother seems to like her despite that.”

Egwene’s mouth felt dry. Red Ajah, and interested in Rand. “I—I don’t know where he is, now. He left Shienar ahead of us, and I don’t think he was going back.”

Elayne gave her a level look. “I would not tell Elaida where to find him if I knew, Egwene. He has done no wrong that I know, and I fear she wants to use him in some manner. Anyway, I’ve not seen her since the day we arrived, with Whitecloaks dogging our trail. They are still camped on the Dragonmount side.” Abruptly she bounded to her feet. “Let us talk of happier things. There are two others here who know Rand, and I would like you to meet one of them.” She took Egwene’s hand and pulled her out of the room.

“Two girls? Rand seems to meet a lot of girls. He’s lucky I’m so kind-hearted and forgiving,” Egwene said with a huff. I wonder if any of them are like me, wives of Rand. Elayne probably is, it just feels right, somehow.

“Ummm?” Still drawing Egwene down the corridor, Elayne studied her. “Yes. Well. One of them is a lazy chit named Else Grinwell. I don’t think she will be here long. She shirks her chores, and she is always sneaking off to watch the Warders practice their swords. She says Rand came to her father’s farm, with a friend of his. Mat. It seems they put notions of the world beyond the next village into her head, and she ran away to come be an Aes Sedai.”

“Men,” Egwene muttered. “I dance a few dances with a nice boy, and Rand goes around looking like a dog with a sore tooth, but he—” She cut off as a man stepped into the hall ahead of them. Beside her, Elayne stopped, too, and her hand tightened on Egwene’s.

There was nothing alarming about him, aside from the suddenness of his appearance. He was tall and handsome, short of middle years, with long, dark curling hair, but his shoulders sagged, and there was sadness in his eyes. He made no move toward Egwene and Elayne, only stood looking at them until one of the Accepted appeared at his shoulder.

“You should not be in here,” she said to him, not unkindly.

“I wanted to walk.” His voice was deep, and as sad as his eyes.

“You can walk out in the garden, where you are supposed to be. The sunshine will be good for you.”

The man rumbled a bitter laugh. “With two or three of you watching my every move? You’re just afraid I’ll find a knife.” At the look in the Accepted’s eyes, he laughed again. “For myself, woman. For myself. Lead me to your garden, and your watching eyes.”

The Accepted touched his arm lightly and led him away.

“Logain,” Elayne said when he was gone.

“The false Dragon!” The thought of any man but Rand channeling sent shivers down Egwene’s spine. They weren’t safe like Rand, that horrid Taint lingered inside them, polluting their mind and soul. She had seen firsthand how dangerous the Taint was. Who knew how far gone a man like Logain was, given he was said to channel in battle. Light and he was right before me!

“He has been gentled, Egwene. He is no more dangerous than any other man, now. But I remember seeing him before, when it took six Aes Sedai to keep him from wielding the Power and destroying us all.” She shivered.

Egwene did, too. That was what the Red Ajah would do to Rand, if they found out what he was. And they never could.

“Do they always have to be gentled?” she asked. Elayne stared at her, mouth agape, and she quickly added, “It is just that I’d think the Aes Sedai would find some other way to deal with them. Anaiya and Moiraine Sedai both said the greatest feats of the Age of Legends required men and women working together with the Power. I just thought they’d try to find a way.” Nynaeve had seen the results of Moiraine and Rand’s circle in the sky the night of the attack, and it had terrified her. That was just a single man and woman.

“Well, do not let any Red sister hear you thinking it aloud. Egwene, they did try. For three hundred years after the White Tower was built, they tried. They gave up because there was nothing to find. Come on. I want you to you to meet Min. She's usually around here somewhere, though I haven’t seen her the last few days. Not in the garden where Logain is going, thank the Light.”

Min! That’s the girl who said I wouldn’t marry Rand, that we were not meant to be. Well, Rand proved her wrong, and I’d like to give her a piece of my mind. There was a narrow stream in the garden, with a low stone bridge over it, and a light breeze riffled the water beneath the bridge, while graywings warbled in the trees of the garden. But there was no Min, and nowhere for Egwene to vent her spleen. Oh blast, she cursed inside her mind.

“I guess she is not here today, either. A servant woman said she saw her walking with a tall red-haired man just days ago. I thought to tease her she had moved on from Rand.” Elayne pouted, before glancing at Egwene and realizing what she said. “Oh, but I only meant it as teasing. Surely he is yours.”

Egwene ground her teeth. That Min is one of his wives, according to Moiraine. She must have taken her. At least he’ll have someone else to look out for him besides Moiraine, she thought reluctantly. “He is mine, do not doubt, but he is another woman's also. He is Moiraine Sedai's new Warder. That may very well have been Rand that Min was walking with. They moved ahead of us, of the Amyrlin Seat after the horrid Trolloc attack. I’m sure Moiraine Sedai stopped by the White Tower and dragged him along.”

Elayne squealed, her eyes going wide and her hands grasping Egwene’s. “Rand is the romantic half-Aiel southern lord who won an Aes Sedai's heart in a duel with her Warder by never giving up? The first chinnar’veren to return to the Westlands in over two thousand years?! I knew it! There is no way he's a shepherd! I heard the Green sisters talking about him in the hallway. They said he tried to take an arrow for the Amyrlin and lead the Warders against the Trollocs, nearly flying in the air, his red and gold hair like a banner in the wind, when he leapt for battle. Did he really?”

Egwene frowned. “Those tales spread here that fast? Light. I did not see, for I was asleep when the attack happened. And they said he truly took an arrow? I had wondered what frightened him so that day. Poor Rand,” she sighed. “He can never catch a break. He truly is a shepherd, Elayne, and he was born in the Two Rivers. He is no lord, not really. You must believe me.”

“He must be something more than a shepherd to convince a Blue Sister to bond a second Warder, and a shapechanger at that, against all tradition and propriety, and for love, supposedly. The halls have been rocking with the news.” Elayne’s blue eyes held an inquisitive gleam, and her mouth a grin. “And no lord, not really? Whatever does that mean. You must tell me, I am just ever so curious about Rand,” she finished with a small blush.

“You must swear, on your life and your mother’s honor, that you will not reveal what I’m about to tell you,” Egwene whispered fiercely, getting close to the other girl. Elayne smiled like a cat that caught the mouse and nodded eagerly.

“I, Elayne Trakand, Daughter Heir of Andor, on my mother honor, the honor of Queen Morgase Trakand of Andor, that I will not reveal what you are about to tell me to anyone, so do I swear on the Light and on my hope of rebirth.”

Egwene took a deep breath, figuring what she needed to tell Elayne. Could she trust her with the truth? No, not yet. Not just yet. But a truth, she could do, like Moiraine would. Egwene could do this. “There is prophecy about him. Big, important prophecy. Rand, around when he became a chinnar’veren—”

Elayne couldn’t help herself, eyes wide with fear. “The books and tales say… they say people only become shapechangers after something traumatic happens. Rand is okay, isn’t he?”

“He is, he is now. He wasn’t totally okay at first, but he got better quickly. He…” Egwene thought quickly. “He fought a Darkfriend, a male channeler Darkfriend. A madman.” It was truth, in a way. An Aes Sedai truth. Elayne gasped and went pale. “The man was trying to capture me, and Rand stood between us, and distracted him so I could get away. Then the fool went and tried to fight the madman with his sword. Rand should have died, but instead he burnt the Darkfriend to death. Rand had shapechanged into the Lord Form of a drake, a fire-breathing snake-lion from the jungles of Shara. And it still wasn’t enough to stop him from being hurt, hurt enough that he lost a bunch of memories.”

Elayne sniffled, a tear trailing down her cheek. “It’s so unfair that Moiraine Sedai made him her Warder instead of letting you have him. He sounds so heroic, so dashing, and you grew up together. It was like you were meant to be! And then she snatched him up.” She dashed forward, giving Egwene a bone-crushing hug. “I’m so sorry, Egwene. I know I’ve just met you, but you must be missing him, are you not? I am so sorry.”

“I am, I have been missing him greatly, more than you can know, but, as I was about to tell you,”—Elayne looked sheepish—“around when Rand became chinnar’veren, he was visited by a spirit of the Creator.”

Elayne looked worried at that. “Like… like the Children of the Light claim? A great flame of many colors that spoke to him? Light, Rand is a Warder, not a Prophet. Did they visit because Rand is a chinnar’veren?”

“Exactly. The spirit visited Rand, and gave him gifts and revelations. I cannot tell you everything, but one of those was a Foretelling.”

Elayne froze then looked strikingly inquisitive. “Eladia had a Foretelling about Rand as well, she told me it, later, in an effort to dissuade me from finding out more about him. ‘This I Foretell. Pain and division come to the whole world, and Rand stands at the heart of it,’ she had said. But if he is chinnar’veren, he stands at the heart of pain and division to fight it! And now another Foretelling, this one from a spirit? Why do you keep trying to tell me he’s just a shepherd?”

“ ‘Six are the women Rand shall bind to his heart, three lovers, two teachers, one enemy. And with them bound, He shall bring forth an Age of Light,’ ” Egwene quoted quietly, paraphrasing slightly. It was the truth, Egwene insisted to herself.

Elayne whistled, her eyes wide and color spotting her fair cheeks. “Six? And you and Moiraine are one of them? She is a lover or teacher, yes?” Elayne took a step back and looked at her oddly. “And you’re okay with that? That sounds absolutely horrid, having to share a Warder. I’m not sure any Aes Sedai has done such a thing before.”

Egwene made to speak, but the crunch of boots on the walk brought them around to look at two young men with their shirts and coats across their arms, leaving sweaty chests bare, and scabbarded swords in their hands. One was the most beautiful man she had ever seen, besides Rand when he was in the so’shan. Tall and slim, but hard, he moved with a cat-like grace. And yet she felt no heat for him, even though he was surely more beautiful than Rand as a man; though she did feel a horrid witch for thinking such a thought. He was like painting, beautiful to look at, but empty. Too pretty, to be honest, though oddly enough he looked vaguely like Rand in so’shan, with a dark countenance. She liked her man’s face to be less pretty than her own and Rand looked more regal than pretty when he wore the Lord Form, quite handsome and fierce. You could almost imagine him a king, in the so’shan. The swept back golden antlers, his gorgeous mane of hair shining in the sun, his sharp eyes—stormy blue-gray—even his sharp-toothed smile she found quite fetching. So lost in her thoughts was she that she did not catch what the young men had said, starting back when the tall one was suddenly in front of her, grabbing her hand and speaking. “-is Galad, Egwene al’Vere. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Galad,” she said with a bit of surprise. His dark eyes stared back into hers, and she pointedly looked away to the other man, taking another step back and releasing their hands. She wanted to wipe them on her dress, but that would be horribly rude.

“And I am Gawyn,”—the other young man grinned—“since I don’t think you heard the first time.” Elayne wore a frown. Fool silly girl, allowing a pretty boy to distract you, if Rand saw he would be livid.

“If your duties allow,” Galad said, “I would like to see you again, Egwene. We could walk, or if you obtain permission to leave the Tower, we could picnic outside the city.”

Egwene frowned. He presumes much. “That… that would be nice I suppose, but I am afraid I will have to decline. I am betrothed, and my heart aches for him.” She was uncomfortably aware of the others, Gawyn still with his amused grin, Elayne still with her scowl. She tried to settle herself, to think of Rand. Rand is so lively, and kind, and strong and determined and talented, even in the face of his dark future—to fight the Dark One and all the Forsaken, Egwene thought with a shiver—and the weight Moiraine was putting on his shoulders. King Rand! Bah, he’ll always be Rand to me. He chose to be with Egwene, despite what that Min girl said. Rand was hers and she was his. And this Galad was more like a statue than a living man, it was almost a little creepy. She gave a jump, half afraid she had spoken aloud.

Galad frowned, but stepped back respectfully. “If ever you change you mind, let me know, Egwene.” Finally taking his eyes from hers, thank the Light, Galad bowed to Elayne. “Sister.” Lithe as a blade, he strolled on across the bridge.

“Sister?” Egwene said, surprised. Elayne’s scowl had lessened only slightly. “I thought he was your... I mean, the way you’re frowning...” She had thought Elayne was jealous, and she still was not sure.

“I am not his sister,” Elayne said firmly. “I refuse to be.”

“Our father was his father,” Gawyn said dryly. “You cannot deny that, unless you want to call Mother a liar, and that, I think, would take more nerve than we have between us.”

For the first time Egwene realized that he had the same reddish gold hair as Elayne, though darkened and curled by sweat.

“Min was right,” Elayne said. “Galad has not the smallest part of humanity in him. He takes right above mercy, or pity, or... He is no more human than a Trolloc.”

Gawyn’s grin came back. “I do not know about that. Not from the way he was looking at Egwene, here.” He caught her look, and his sister’s, and held up his hands as if to fend them off with his sheathed sword. “Besides, he has the best hand with a sword I’ve ever seen. The Warders only need show him something once, and he’s learned it. They sweat me nearly to death to learn half what Galad does without trying.”

“And being good with a sword is enough?” Elayne sniffed. “Men! Egwene, as you may have guessed, this disgracefully unclothed lummox is my brother. Gawyn, Egwene knows Rand al’Thor. She is from the same village.”

“Is she? Was he really born in the Two Rivers, Egwene?”

Egwene made herself nod calmly. What does he know? “Of course he was. I grew up with him. He is my betrothed.”

Elayne perked at that. “Of course,” Gawyn said slowly. “Such a strange fellow. A shepherd, he said, though he never looked or acted like any shepherd I ever saw. Strange. I have met all sorts of people, and they’ve met Rand al’Thor. Some do not even know his name, but the description could not be anyone else, and he’s shifted every one of their lives. There was an old farmer who came to Caemlyn just to see Logain, when Logain was brought through on his way here; yet the farmer stayed to stand for Mother when the riots started. Because of a young man off to see the world, who made him think there was more to life than his farm. Rand al’Thor. You could almost think he was ta’veren. Elaida is certainly interested in him. I wonder if meeting him will shift our lives in the Pattern?”

Egwene looked at Elayne and Gawyn. She was sure they could not have a clue that Rand really was ta’veren. She had never really thought about that part of it before; he was Rand, and he had been cursed with the ability to channel. But ta’veren did move people, whether or not they wanted to be moved. And now they three were here, meeting each other in what now merely seemed simple coincidence. “I really do like you,” she said abruptly, to Elayne, both the truth and a way to change the conversation. “I want to be your friend.”

“And I want to be yours,” Elayne said, just as eagerly.

Impulsively, they stood there on the bridge hugging one another.

“Would one of you mind telling me what this is all about?” Gawyn inquired gently.

“You would not understand,” his sister said, and the pair of girls caught a fit of the giggles.

Gawyn scratched his head, then shook it. “Well, if it has anything to do with Rand al’Thor, be sure you don’t let Elaida hear of it. She has been at me like a Whitecloak Questioner three times since we arrived. I do not think she means him any—” He gave a start; there was a woman crossing the garden, a woman in a red-fringed shawl. “ ‘Name the Dark One,’ ” he quoted, “ ‘and he appears.’ I do not need another lecture about wearing my shirt when I’m out of the practice yards. Good morning to you all.”

Elaida spared a glance for the departing Gawyn as she came up the bridge. She was a handsome woman rather than beautiful, Egwene thought, but that ageless look marked her as surely as her shawl; only the newest-made sisters lacked it. When her gaze swept over Egwene, pausing only a moment, Egwene suddenly saw a hardness in the Aes Sedai. She had always thought of Moiraine as strong, steel under silk, but Elaida dispensed with the silk.

“Elaida,” Elayne said, “this is Egwene. She was born with the seed in her, too. And she has already had some lessons, so she is as far along as I am. Elaida?”

The Aes Sedai’s face was blank and unreadable. “In Caemlyn, child, I am councilor to the Queen your mother, but this is the White Tower, and you, a novice.”

“I’ve known you all my life, Elaida,” Elayne said incredulously. “You watched me grow up, and made the gardens bloom in winter so I could play.”

“Child, there you were the Daughter-Heir. Here you are a novice. You must learn that. You will be great one day, but you must learn!”

“Yes, Aes Sedai.”

Egwene was astounded. If someone had snubbed her so before others, she would have been in a fury.

“Now, off with both of you.” A gong began to toll, deep and sonorous, and Elaida tilted her head. The sun stood halfway to its pinnacle. “High,” Elaida said. “You must hurry, if you do not want further admonishment. And Elayne? See the Mistress of Novices in her study after your chores. A novice does not speak to Aes Sedai unless bidden to. Run, both of you. You will be late. Run!”

They ran, holding their skirts up. Egwene looked at Elayne. Elayne had two spots of color in her cheeks and a determined look on her face.

“I will be Aes Sedai,” Elayne said softly, but it sounded like a promise.

“I will be Aes Sedai,” she growled. Elayne flashed a quick smile of understanding, and they ran faster.

Tamaz 2, 998 NE (July 8th)

The first week or so beside Elayne was hard work, being a Novice, but the cleaning felt familiar to Egwene, a routine that reminded her of home, just a bit. Dusting and mopping, scrubbing the floor, tending to the kitchens. It was all familiar, though Elayne could not stand it, sometimes. She found working in the kitchen especially disgusting, and despaired every time they were assigned, and Egwene had to hide the giggles that would want to form. Personally, Egwene hated how they treated her like she was an idiot child. She was an innkeeper’s daughter, for Light’s sake. Her mother taught her how to clean a room, thank you very much!

Then there was her studies in the One Power. Egwene had surprised her teachers with how competent and quick she had been at embracing saidar—only failing about half the time—and her ability to form balls of light with a skill months, if not years, ahead of other incoming Novices. The hours of practice with Rand and Moiraine had paid off. Egwene knew the Five Elements intimately, and the basics of weaving most girls had to spend months on. Aniaya Sedai said it would only bring more suspicion on Moiraine Sedai for teaching her much more than the bare minimum. And this was after she was already in hot water for bonding a second Warder against all tradition, and a ta’veren shapechanger at that. Rumors said the Hall had sent pigeons to the king of Illian, requesting that she return immediately to face the Sitters. Egwene knew better than think that would cause Moiraine Damodred to stop her plans.

But while she was ahead in channeling, in other classes she was right at the beginning with other novices. Learning the Old Tongue, the history of the world since the Breaking, basic etiquette, and other such foundational knowledge for Aes Sedai that Moiraine did not deign to teach her, too busy with Rand. From those classes came the books she got to read and study. Egwene had never seen so many books in the same place until she visited the Great Library and saw the thousand thousand books divided into twelve repositories, three thousand years of writing preserved by the White Tower. Histories, and essays, tales and novels, all of it organized by the Brown Ajah, the Ajah devoted to knowledge and the collection of ancient wisdom, and carefully kept clean and tidy. If things weren’t the way there are, she could see herself spending years in there, maybe even becoming a Brown Sister, searching ancient ruins for lost knowledge with Rand as her Warder. It was a nice daydream to have, if foolish.

Right then it was hours past supper, and Elayne and her were free, sitting on the bed in Egwene’s room. It had become Elayne’s habit, as they shared much of the same schedule for now, and because Nynaeve was busy nearly every night with classes to get her caught up with the other Accepted. Apparently a Wisdom’s knowledge was not enough, Egwene thought with a giggle. She had become close to Elayne surprisingly quickly, loving the tales of the palace Elayne told, of courtly love and intrigue, while Egwene’s stories of Rand and the Two Rivers, and tales of Fal Dara—appropriately censored—enthralled Elayne, an obvious crush forming. She was now quite certain Elayne was one of the woman Rand would bind. It made Egwene smile rather than frown, somehow.

Elayne was nearly as powerful in the One Power as Egwene, and anything she did not know, she picked up quickly from watching Egwene. This would be yet another woman Rand would love, and in any normal circumstance Elayne would be her bitter enemy, not a fast friend. And yet, all Egwene could feel about the idea was a sense of rightness, that this was how it should be. So tonight she was going to finally finish telling Elayne more about the wives.

“Elayne, you know how I was talking about Rand, when we first met?” Egwene said carefully, smoothing her white Novice dress.

“Yes. You told me the most fascinating, wildest thing I had heard, and then he and my brother interrupted us. Six women, bound to Rand’s heart! It sounds like something out of a tale. I have been waiting over a week for you to tell me more, but you insist on telling me stories of your childhood, and Rand instead.”

“Yes, well. There is a reason I want to talk with you about it. A reason since I met you, really. Elayne… Moiraine Sedai told me what three of the women would look like.”

Elayne frowned, a pretty, pouty look on her face. “You, Moiraine and Min?” she guessed.

Egwene laughed. “No. An Aiel woman. A young woman with short boyish hair, wearing men’s clothes, Min. And… and a young woman with the red-gold hair of Andoran Royalty. Hair just like yours.”

Elayne froze. “You don’t think…”

Egwene took her hand and squeezed. “I do.”

Elayne squealed, and took Egwene into a hug, and Egwene embraced her right back. “Oh my! You really think Rand will be my Warder?”

Egwene whispered in Elayne’s ear, “I think Rand will be your husband, as well as Warder. I love him, and so does Moiraine, though she won’t admit it. He is both our husband. Min will love him, and you will love him, and the Aiel woman and whoever the enemy is, will love him too.”

A look of worry grew on Elayne’s face as she drew back. “This… this won’t change anything between us, will it?” she said nervously. “It’s just, I ever so like being your friend, and you are the first girl I’ve ever met that hasn’t tried to use my rank or want me for something and—”

Egwene shook her head fiercely, interrupting Elayne’s anxiety. “Moiraine Sedai, for all I have issues with how she has handled Rand, she made a very good point to me early on. The Aiel have a custom, called sister-wives. When two women love the same man, instead of fighting each other, they can choose to become sisters and share their husband together. Moiraine Sedai told me, if the Warders of Green Sisters, if warriors, can handle their woman loving other men, then women should be able to handle sharing a man easily. We will be sister-wives, when Rand bonds you. We will be bound together in something bigger than you even know. And I am glad you will be, out of any, I swear. It feels right.” There were tears in Egwene’s eyes as she finished, and Elayne was crying as well, with a smile on her face. But I cannot tell you everything, Elayne. There are secrets that aren’t able to be said, in the White Tower.

“Oh, Egwene!” was all Elayne could get out, before she sobbed. “I- I’m so sorry. I- I knew I loved him not five m-minutes after I met the fool in the gardens. Is that not ridiculous? But it is true, and I’ve been so w-worried. When you said he was your betrothed… Oh I’m being silly, forgive me, please! Lini says ‘A weeping woman is a bucket with no bottom.’ Everything is alright, and I shouldn’t be c-crying.”

“You aren’t being silly, Elayne.” Egwene said soothingly, rubbing her back as she spoke. “You aren’t being silly in the least. Were you worried I’d find out?” Elayne nodded. “Well, you needn’t worry. I had figured you had a crush, when you kept asking for stories of him and sighing.”

Elayne blushed, wiping tears away. “So I was that obvious?”

Egwene only laughed and hugged her, and Elayne joined her soon enough. They were still laughing when a disgruntled Nynaeve stomped into Elayne’s room, muttering under her breath, ink stains on her fingers, and the two girls could not help giggling at the wicked glare the older woman gave them. Everything between them would be alright, Egwene just knew it.

“What has you two all silly, and tear-stained? Please don’t tell me it is men,” Nynaeve said dismissively, standing in front of the girls.

Egwene sat more primly, and Elayne turned to Nynaeve and smiled. “I know about Rand, and his wives now.”

Nynaeve grimaced, like she always did when Rand came up in conversation, and stared piercingly at Egwene, tugging her braid. Before she could get started, Egwene quickly spoke. “She knows that there was a Foretelling about six women. And that I am certain she is one of them. That is all.”

“So you are another member of Rand’s harem.” Nynaeve said with a sniff. “I should have guessed with how suddenly close you two were. I trust you’ll keep some things secret, Egwene?”

Treating me like a child, grumbled Egwene, even as she nodded. “I am no fool, Nynaeve. Some things aren’t meant for the White Tower.”

“Whatever does that mean?” asked Elayne, wide-eyed and curious.

Egwene groaned, but Nynaeve gave Elayne a long stare. “Nothing for your ears while we are here. And that is final, Elayne. Surely a Daughter-Heir knows that some secrets are deadly?”

Chapter Text

Amadaine 21, 998 NE (June 29th)

Geofram Bornhald ignored the smell of burning houses and the bodies that lay sprawled on the dirt of the street. Byar and a white-cloaked guard of a hundred rode into the village at his heels, half the men he had with him. His legion was too scattered for his liking, with Questioners having too many of the commands, but his orders had been explicit: Obey the Questioners.

There had been but slight resistance here; only half a dozen dwellings gave off columns of smoke. The inn was still standing, he saw, white-plastered stone like almost every structure on Almoth Plain.

Reining up before the inn, his eyes went past the prisoners his soldiers held near the village well to the long gibbet marring the village green. It was hastily made, only a long pole on uprights, but it held thirty bodies, their clothes ruffled by the breeze. There were small bodies hanging among their elders. Even Byar stared at that in disbelief.

“Muadh!” he roared. A grizzled man trotted away from those holding the prisoners. Muadh had fallen into the hands of Darkfriends, once; his scarred face took even the strongest aback. “Is this your work, Muadh, or the Seanchan?”

“Neither, my Lord Captain.” Muadh’s voice was a hoarse, whispered growl, another leaving of the Darkfriends. He said no more.

Bornhald frowned. “Surely that lot did not do it,” he said, gesturing to the prisoners. The Children did not look so neat as when he had brought them across Tarabon, but they seemed ready to parade compared with the rabble that crouched under their watchful eyes. Men in rags and bits of armor, with sullen faces. Remnants of the army Tarabon had sent against the invaders on Toman Head.

Muadh hesitated, then said carefully, “The villagers say they wore Taraboner cloaks, my Lord Captain. There was a big man among them, with gray eyes and a long mustache, that sounds twin to Child Earwin, and a young lad, trying to hide a pretty face behind a yellow beard, who fought with his left hand. Sounds almost like Child Wuan, my Lord Captain.”

“Questioners!” Bornhald spat. Earwin and Wuan were among those he had had to hand over to the Questioners’ command. He had seen Questioner tactics before, but this was the first time he had ever been faced with children’s bodies.

“If my Lord Captain says so.” Muadh made it sound like fervent agreement.

“Cut them down,” Bornhald said wearily. “Cut them down, and make sure the villagers know there will be no more killing.” Unless some fool decides to be brave because his woman is watching, and I have to make an example. He dismounted, eyeing the prisoners again, as Muadh hurried off calling for ladders and knives. He had more to think about than Questioners’ overzealousness; he wished he could stop thinking about Questioners altogether.

“They do not put up much fight, my Lord Captain,” Byar said, “either these Taraboners or what is left of the Domani. They snap like cornered rats, but run as soon as anything snaps back.”

“Let us see how we do against the invaders, Byar, before we look down on these men, yes?” The prisoners’ faces bore a defeated look that had been there before his men came. “Have Muadh pick one out for me.” Muadh’s face was enough to soften most men’s resolve by itself. “An officer, preferably. One who looks intelligent enough to tell what he has seen without embroidery, but young enough not to have yet grown a full backbone. Tell Muadh to be not too gentle about it, yes? Make the fellow believe that I mean to see worse happen to him than he ever dreamed of, unless he convinces me otherwise.” He tossed his reins to one of the Children and strode into the inn.

The innkeeper was there, for a wonder, an obsequious, sweating man, his dirty shirt straining over his belly until the embroidered red scrollwork seemed ready to pop off. Bornhald waved the man away; he was vaguely aware of a woman and some children huddling in a doorway, until the fat innkeeper shepherded them out.

Bornhald pulled off his gauntlets and sat at one of the tables. He knew too little about the invaders, the strangers. That was what almost everyone called them, those who did not just babble about Artur Hawkwing. He knew they called themselves the Seanchan, and Hailene. He had enough of the Old Tongue to know the latter meant Those Who Come Before, or the Forerunners. They also called themselves Rhyagelle, Those Who Come Home, and spoke of Corenne, the Return. It was almost enough to make him believe the tales of Artur Hawkwing’s armies come back. No one knew where the Seanchan had come from, other than that they had landed in ships. Bornhald’s requests for information from the Sea Folk had been met with silence. Amador did not hold the Atha’an Miere in good favor, and the attitude was returned with interest. All he knew of the Seanchan he had heard from men like those outside. Broken, beaten rabble who spoke, wide-eyed and sweating, of men who came into battle riding monsters as often as horses, who fought with monsters by their sides, and brought Aes Sedai to rend the earth under their enemies’ feet, some even claimed they had male Aes Sedai who fought with the elements as their weapons. Bornhald dismissed that last claim as pure fancy. No country would be foolish enough to use Male Aes Sedai as warriors. They would risk their entire army when one went mad.

A sound of boots in the doorway made him put on a wolfish grin, but Byar was not accompanied by Muadh. The Child of the Light who stood beside him, back braced and helmet in the crook of his arm, was Jeral, who Bornhald expected to be a hundred miles away. Over his armor, the young man wore a cloak of Domani cut, trimmed with blue, not the white cloak of the Children.

“Muadh is talking to a young fellow now, my Lord Captain,” Byar said. “Child Jeral has just ridden in with a message.”

Bornhald waved for Jeral to begin.

The young man did not unbend. “The compliments of Jaichim Carridin,” he started, looking straight ahead, “who guides the Hand of the Light in—”

“I have no need of the Questioner’s compliments,” Bornhald growled, and saw the young man’s startled look. Jeral was young, yet. For that matter, Byar looked uncomfortable, as well. “You will give me his message, yes? Not word for word, unless I ask it. Simply tell me what he wants.”

The Child, set to recite, swallowed before he began. “My Lord Captain, he—he says you are moving too many men too close to Toman Head. He says the Darkfriends on Almoth Plain must be rooted out, and you are—forgive me, Lord Captain—you are to turn back at once and ride toward the heart of the plain.” He stood stiffly, waiting.

Bornhald studied him. The dust of the plain stained Jeral’s face as well as his cloak and his boots. “Go and get yourself something to eat,” Bornhald told him. “There should be wash water in one of these houses, if you wish it. Return to me in an hour. I will have messages for you to carry.” He waved the young man out.

“The Questioners may be right, my Lord Captain,” Byar said when Jeral was gone. “There are many villages scattered on the plain, and the Darkfriends—”

Bornhald’s hand slapping the table cut him off. “What Darkfriends? I have seen nothing in any village he has ordered taken except farmers and craftsmen worried that we will burn their livelihoods, and a few old women who tend the sick.” Byar’s face was a study in lack of expression; he was always readier than Bornhald to see Darkfriends. “And children, Byar? Do children here become Darkfriends?”

“The sins of the mother are visited to the fifth generation,” Byar quoted, “and the sins of the father to the tenth.” But he looked uneasy. Even Byar had never killed a child.

“Has it never occurred to you, Byar, to wonder why Carridin has taken away our banners, and the cloaks of the men the Questioners lead? Even the Questioners themselves have put off the white. This suggests something, yes?”

“He must have his reasons, Lord Captain,” Byar said slowly. “The Questioners always have reasons, even when they do not tell the rest of us.”

Bornhald reminded himself that Byar was a good soldier. “Children to the north wear Taraboner cloaks, Byar, and those to the south Domani. I do not like what this suggests to me. There are Darkfriends here, but they are in Falme, not on the plain. When Jeral rides, he will not ride alone. Messages will go to every group of the Children I know how to find. I mean to take the legion onto Toman Head, Byar, and see what the true Darkfriends, these Seanchan, are up to.”

Byar looked troubled, but before he could speak, Muadh appeared with one of the prisoners. The sweating young man in a battered, ornate breastplate shot frightened looks at Muadh’s hideous face.

Bornhald drew his dagger and began trimming his nails. He had never understood why that made some men nervous, but he used it just the same. Even his grandfatherly smile made the prisoner’s dirty face pale. “Now, young man, you will tell me everything you know about these strangers, yes? If you need to think on what to say, I will send you back out with Child Muadh to consider it.”

The prisoner darted a wide-eyed look at Muadh. Then words began to pour out of him.

Amadaine 22, 998 NE (June 30th)

The long swells of the Aryth Ocean made Spray roll, but Domon’s spread feet balanced him as he held the long tube of the looking glass to his eye and studied the large vessel that pursued them. Pursued, and was slowly overtaking. The wind where Spray ran was not the best or the strongest, but where the other ship smashed the swells into mountains of foam with its bluff bow, it could not have blown better. The coastline of Toman Head loomed to the east, dark cliffs and narrow strips of sand. He had not cared to take Spray too far out, and now he feared he might pay for it.

“Strangers, Captain?” Yarin had the sound of sweat in his voice. “Is it a strangers’ ship?”

Domon lowered the looking glass, but his eye still seemed filled by that tall, square-looking ship with its odd ribbed sails. “Seanchan,” he said, and heard Yarin groan. He drummed his thick fingers on the rail, then told the helmsman, “Take her closer in. That ship will no dare enter the shallow waters Spray can sail.”

Yarin shouted commands, and crewmen ran to haul in booms as the helmsman put the tiller over, pointing the bow more toward the shoreline. Spray moved more slowly, heading so far into the wind, but Domon was sure he could reach shoal waters before the other vessel came up on him. Did her holds be full, she could still take shallower water than ever that great hull can.

His ship rode a little higher in the water than she had on sailing from Tanchico. A third of the cargo of fireworks he had taken on there was gone, sold in the fishing villages on Toman Head, but with the silver that flowed for the fireworks had come disturbing reports. The people spoke of visits from the tall, boxy ships of the invaders. When Seanchan ships anchored off the coast, the villagers who drew up to defend their homes were rent by lightning from the sky while small boats were still ferrying the invaders ashore, and the earth erupted in fire under their feet. Domon had thought he was hearing nonsense until he was shown the blackened ground, and he had seen it in too many villages to doubt any longer. Monsters fought beside the Seanchan soldiers, not that there was ever much resistance left, the villagers said, and some even claimed that the Seanchan themselves were monsters, with heads like huge insects. The wildest rumors were of the male Aes Sedai, who fought with fists of fire and rock, or the women who danced like the wind and wielded water like a bladed whip.

In Tanchico, no one had even known what they called themselves, and the Taraboners spoke confidently of their soldiers driving the invaders into the sea. But in every coastal town, it was different. The Seanchan told astonished people they must swear again oaths they had forsaken, though never deigning to explain when they had forsaken them, or what the oaths meant. The young men and women were taken away one by one to be examined, and some were carried aboard the ships and never seen again. A few older women had also vanished, some of the Guides and Healers, but no older men. New mayors were chosen by the Seanchan, and new Councils, and any who protested the disappearances of the men and women or having no voice in the choosing might be hung, or burst suddenly into flame, or be brushed aside like yapping dogs. There was no way of telling which it would be until it was too late.

And when the people had been thoroughly cowed, when they had been made to kneel and swear, bewildered, to obey the Forerunners, await the Return, and serve Those Who Come Home with their lives, the Seanchan sailed away and usually never returned. Falme, it was said, was the only town they held fast.

In some of the villages they had left, men and women crept back toward their former lives, to the extent of talking about electing their Councils again, but most eyed the sea nervously and made pale-cheeked protests that they meant to hold to the oaths they had been made to swear even if they did not understand them.

Domon had no intention of meeting any Seanchan, if he could avoid it.

He was raising the glass to see what he could make out on the nearing Seanchan decks, when, with a roar, the surface of the sea broke into fountaining water and flame not a hundred paces from his larboard side. Before he had even begun to gape, another column of flame split the sea on the other side, and as he was spinning to stare at that, another burst up ahead. The eruptions died as quickly as they were born, spray from them blown across the deck. Where they had been, the sea bubbled and steamed as if boiling.

“We... we’ll reach shallow water before they can close with us,” Yarin said slowly. He seemed to be trying not to look at the water roiling under clouds of mist.

Domon shook his head. “Whatever they did, they can shatter us, even do I take her into the breakers.” He shivered, thinking of the flame inside the fountains of water, and his holds full of fireworks. “Fortune prick me, we might no live to drown.” He tugged at his beard and rubbed his bare upper lip, reluctant to give the order—the vessel and what it contained were all he had in the world—but finally he made himself speak. “Bring her into the wind, Yarin, and down sail. Quickly, man, quickly! Before they do think we still try to escape.”

As crewmen ran to lower the triangular sails, Domon turned to watch the Seanchan ship approach. Spray lost headway and pitched in the swells. The other vessel stood taller above the water than Domon’s ship, with wooden towers at bow and stern. Men were in the rigging, raising those strange sails, and armored figures stood atop the towers. A longboat was put over the side, and sped toward Spray under ten oars. It carried armored shapes, and—Domon frowned in surprise—two women crouched in the stern. The longboat thumped against Spray’s hull.

The first to climb up was one of the armored men, and Domon saw immediately why some of the villagers claimed the Seanchan themselves were monsters. The helmet looked very much like some monstrous insect’s head, with thin red plumes like feelers; the wearer seemed to be peering out through mandibles. It was painted and gilded to increase the effect, and the rest of the man’s armor was also worked with paint and gold. Overlapping plates in black and red outlined with gold covered his chest and ran down the outsides of his arms and the fronts of his thighs. Even the steel backs of his gauntlets were red and gold. Where he did not wear metal, his clothes were dark leather. The two-handed sword on his back, with its curved blade, was scabbarded and hilted in black-and-red leather.

Then the armored figure removed his helmet, and Domon stared. He was a woman. Her dark hair was cut short, and her face was hard, but there was no mistaking it. He had never heard of such a thing, except among the Aiel, and Aiel were well known to be crazed. Just as disconcerting was the fact that her face did not look as different as he had expected of a Seanchan. Her eyes were blue, it was true, and her skin exceedingly fair, but he had seen both before. If this woman wore a dress, no one would look at her twice. He eyed her and revised his opinion, that cold stare and those hard cheeks would make her remarked anywhere.

The other soldiers followed the woman onto the deck. Domon was relieved to see, when some of them removed their strange helmets, that they, at least, were men; men with black eyes, or brown, who could have gone unnoticed in Tanchico or Illian. He had begun to have visions of armies of blue-eyed women with swords. Aes Sedai with swords, he thought, remembering the sea erupting.

The Seanchan woman surveyed the ship arrogantly, then picked Domon out as captain—it had to be him or Yarin, by their clothes; the way Yarin had his eyes closed and was muttering prayers under his breath pointed to Domon—and fixed him with a stare like a spike.

“Are there any women among your crew or passengers?” She spoke with a soft slurring that made her hard to understand, but there was a snap in her voice that said she was used to getting answers. “Speak up, man, if you are the captain. If not, wake that other fool and tell him to speak.”

“I do be captain, my Lady,” Domon said cautiously. He had no idea how to address her, and he did not want to put a foot wrong. “I have no passengers, and there be no women in my crew.” He thought of the girls and women who had been carried off, and, not for the first time, wondered what these folk wanted with them.

The two women dressed as women were coming up from the longboat, one drawing the other—Domon blinked—by a leash of silvery metal as she climbed aboard. The leash went from a bracelet worn by the first woman to a collar around the neck of the second. He could not tell whether it was woven or jointed—it seemed somehow to be both—but it was clearly of a piece with both bracelet and collar. The first woman gathered the leash in coils as the other came onto the deck. The collared woman wore plain dark gray and stood with her hands folded and her eyes on the planks under her feet. The other had red panels bearing forked, silver lightning bolts on the breast of her blue dress and on the sides of her skirts, which ended short of the ankles of her boots. Domon eyed the women uneasily.

“Speak slowly, man,” the blue-eyed woman demanded in her slurred speech. She came across the deck to confront him, staring up at him and in some way seeming taller and larger than he. “You are even harder to understand than the rest in this Light-forsaken land. And I make no claim to be of the Blood. Not yet. After Corenne.... I am Captain Egeanin.”

Domon repeated himself, trying to speak slowly, and added, “I do be a peaceful trader, Captain. I mean no harm to you, and I have no part in your war.” He could not help eyeing the two women connected by the leash again.

“A peaceful trader?” Egeanin mused. “In that case, you will be free to go once you have sworn fealty again.” She noticed his glances and turned to smile at the women with the pride of ownership. “You admire my damane? She cost me dear, but she was worth every coin. Few but nobles own a damane, and most are property of the throne. She is strong, trader. She could have broken your ship to splinters, had I wished it so.”

Domon stared at the women and the silver leash. He had connected the one wearing the lightning with the fiery fountains in the sea, and assumed she was an Aes Sedai. Egeanin had just set his head whirling. No one could do that to... “She is Aes Sedai?” he said disbelievingly.

He never saw the casual backhand blow coming. He staggered as her steel-backed gauntlet split his lip.

“That name is never spoken,” Egeanin said with a dangerous softness. “There are only the damane, the Leashed Ones, and now they serve in truth as well as name.” Her eyes made ice seem warm.

Domon swallowed blood and kept his hand clenched at his sides. If he had had a sword to hand, he would not have led his crew to slaughter against a dozen armored soldiers, but it was an effort to make his voice humble. “I meant no disrespect, Captain. I know nothing of you or your ways. If I do offend, it is ignorance, no intention.”

She looked at him, then said, “You are all ignorant, Captain, but you will pay the debt of your forefathers. This land was ours, and it will be ours again. With the Return, it will be ours again.” Domon did not know what to say—Surely she can no mean that nattering about Artur Hawkwing be true?—so he kept his mouth shut. “You will sail your vessel to Falme”—he tried to protest, but her glare silenced him—“where you and your ship will be examined. If you are no more than a peaceful trader, as you claim, you will be allowed to go your way when you have sworn the oaths.”

“Oaths, Captain? What oaths?”

“To obey, to await, and to serve. Your ancestors should have remembered.”

She gathered her people—except for a single man in plain armor but for a single black flame, which marked him of low rank as much as the depth of his bow to Captain Egeanin—and their longboat pulled away toward the larger ship. The remaining Seanchan gave no orders, only sat cross-legged on the deck and began sharpening his sword while the crew put sail on and got under way. He seemed to have no fear at being alone, and Domon would have personally thrown overboard any crewman who raised a hand to him, for as Spray made her way along the coast, the Seanchan ship followed, out in deeper water. There was a mile between the two vessels, but Domon knew there was no hope of escape, and he meant to deliver the man back to Captain Egeanin as safely as if he had been cradled in his mother’s arms.

It was when the plain armored stood up and began martial exercises that Domon realized why they left him alone. Each punch and kick of left a spurt of flame, flame that the man shaped and tossed and punched into the air, cutting with his sword, and almost burning half a dozen parts of the ship, the flame just burning out right as it would lit something. The crew was terrified, no one would work near him. Blast me, it's flaming true! They have male Aes Sedai that punch and kick fire. No, he is no Aes Sedai, Domon shook his head, and no leashed one either. What is he? Domon watched astounded, fearful but unable to take his eyes away from the hypnotic dance of fire the Seanchan soldier made, men ready at the sand barrels to put the fire out.

It was a long passage to Falme, and Domon finally persuaded the Seanchan to talk, a little. A dark-eyed man in his middle years, with an old scar above his eyes and another nicking his chin, his name was Caban, and he had nothing but contempt for anyone this side of the Aryth Ocean. That gave Domon a moment’s pause. Maybe they truly do be... No, that do be madness. Caban’s speech had the same slur as Egeanin’s, but where hers was silk sliding across iron, his was leather rasping on rock, and mostly he wanted to talk about battles, drinking, and women he had known. Half the time, Domon was not certain if he were speaking of here and now, or of wherever he had come from. The man was certainly not forthcoming about anything Domon wanted to know.

Once Domon asked about the damane. Caban reached up from where he sat in front of the helmsman and put the point of his sword to Domon’s throat. “Watch what your tongue touches, or you will lose it. That’s the business of the Blood, not your kind. Or mine.” He grinned while he said it, and as soon as he was done, he went back to sliding a stone along his heavy, curved blade.

Domon touched the point of blood welling above his collar and resolved not to ask that again, at least. But he could not help himself, asking one more question. Tentatively, he spoke. “May I ask what you be?”

Caban grinned. It wasn’t a very happy look. “At least you did not call me that name. Some shout it, and I heard it on your crew’s tongue. Be grateful the captain is not here to cut them out. I am Nadulatha’an, one of the People of Energy. I am narbirdin, a Man of Flame. I use the nadularhiad, the World Energy, by taking it from the Sun and turning it into fire. Some men are zhoubdinon, Men of Earth and they use the nadularhiad inside the ground, to move massive amounts of earth and stone with their bare fists. Rare is nabirzhoubdin, the Man of Flame and Earth, who can use both energies. Some women are raiadaran, Women of Wind, who use the nadularhiad from the sky to control the very air, able to fly and move in ways completely unexpected. Some are duadhedar, a Woman of Water, use the nadularhiad of the moon to become healers even better than damane or deadly users of water whip arts. The rarest are duadheraiadar, the Women of Water and Wind. All can take down a boat of sailors easy, except the zhoubdin.” And with that Caban went silent and resumed sharpening his blade, the entire ship enthralled and intimidated by the strange not-Aes Sedai his words conjured up, of men and women, wreathed in the Elements, as terrifying soldiers of these invaders.

The closer the two vessels came to Falme, the more of the tall, square-looking Seanchan ships they passed, some under sail, but more anchored. Every one was bluff-bowed and towered, as big as anything Domon had ever seen, even among the Sea Folk. A few local craft, he saw, with their sharp bows and slanted sails, darted across the green swells. The sight gave him confidence that Egeanin had spoken the truth about letting him go free.

When Spray came up on the headland where Falme stood, Domon gaped at the numbers of the Seanchan ships anchored off the harbor. He tried counting them and gave up at a hundred, less than halfway done. He had seen as many ships in one place before—in Illian, and Tear, and even Tanchico—but those vessels had included many smaller craft. Muttering glumly to himself, he took Spray into the harbor, shepherded by her great Seanchan watchdog.

Falme stood on a spit of land at the very tip of Toman Head, with nothing further west of it except the Aryth Ocean. High cliffs ran to the harbor mouth on both sides, and atop one of those, where every ship running into the harbor had to pass under them, stood the towers of the Watchers Over the Waves. A cage hung over the side of one of the towers, with a man sitting in it despondently, legs dangling through the bars.

“Who is that?” Domon asked.

Caban had finally given over sharpening his sword, after Domon had begun to wonder if he meant to shave with it. The Seanchan glanced up to where Domon pointed. “Oh. That is the First Watcher. Not the one who sat in the chair when we first came, of course. Every time he dies, they choose another, and we put him in the cage.”

“But why?” Domon demanded.

Caban’s grin showed too many teeth. “They watched for the wrong thing, and forgot when they should have been remembering.”

Domon tore his eyes away from the Seanchan. Spray slid down the last real sea swell and into the quieter waters of the harbor. I do be a trader, and it is none of my business.

Falme rose from stone docks up the slopes of the hollow that made the harbor. Domon could not decide whether the dark stone houses made up a goodly sized town or a small city. Certainly he saw no building in it to rival the smallest palace in Illian.

He guided Spray to a place at one of the docks, and wondered, while the crew tied the ship fast, if the Seanchan might buy some of the fireworks in his hold. None of my business.

To his surprise, Egeanin had herself rowed to the dock with her damane. There was another woman wearing the bracelet this time, with the red panels and forked lightning on her dress, but the damane was the same sad-faced woman who never looked up unless the other spoke to her. Egeanin had Domon and his crew herded off the ship to sit on the dock under the eyes of a pair of her soldiers—she seemed to think no more were needed, and Domon was not about to argue with her—while others searched Spray under her direction. The damane was part of the search.

Down the dock, a thing appeared. Domon could think of no other way to describe it. A hulking creature with a leathery, gray-green hide and a beak of a mouth in a wedge-shaped head. And three eyes. It lumbered along beside a man whose armor bore three painted eyes, just like those of the creature. The local people, dockmen and sailors in roughly embroidered shirts and long vests to their knees, shied away as the pair passed, but no Seanchan gave them a second glance. The man with the beast seemed to be directing it with hand signals.

Man and creature turned in among the buildings, leaving Domon staring and his crew muttering to themselves. The two Seanchan guards sneered at them silently. No my business, Domon reminded himself. His business was his ship.

The air had a familiar smell of salt water and pitch. He shifted uneasily on the stone, hot from the sun, and wondered what the Seanchan were searching for. What the damane was searching for. Wondered what that thing had been. Gulls cried, wheeling above the harbor. He thought of the sounds a caged man might make. It is no my business.

Eventually Egeanin led the others back onto the dock. The Seanchan captain had something wrapped in a piece of yellow silk, Domon noted warily. Something small enough to carry in one hand, but which she held carefully in both.

He got to his feet—slowly, for the soldiers’ sake, though their eyes held the same contempt Caban’s did. “You see, Captain? I do be only a peaceful trader. Perhaps your people would care to buy some fireworks?”

“Perhaps, trader.” There was an air of suppressed excitement about her that made him uneasy, and her next words increased the feeling. “You will come with me.”

She told two soldiers to come along, and one of them gave Domon a push to get him started. It was not a rough shove; Domon had seen farmers push a cow in the same way to make it move. Setting his teeth, he followed Egeanin.

The cobblestone street climbed the slope, leaving the smell of the harbor behind. The slate-roofed houses grew larger and taller as the street climbed. Surprisingly for a town held by invaders, the streets held more local people than Seanchan soldiers, and now and again a curtained palanquin was borne past by bare-chested men. The Falmen seemed to be going about their business as if the Seanchan were not there. Or almost not there. When palanquin or soldier passed, both poor folk, with only a curling line or two worked on their dirty clothes, and the richer, with shirts, vests, and dresses covered from shoulder to waist in intricately embroidered patterns, bowed and remained bent until the Seanchan were gone. They did the same for Domon and his guard. Neither Egeanin nor her soldiers so much as glanced at them.

Domon realized with a sudden shock that some of the local people they passed wore daggers at their belts, and in a few cases swords. He was so surprised that he spoke without thinking. “Some of them be on your side?”

Egeanin frowned over her shoulder at him, obviously puzzled. Without slowing, she looked at the people and nodded to herself. “You mean the swords. They are our people, now, trader; they have sworn the oaths.” She stopped abruptly, pointing at a tall, heavy-shouldered man with a heavily embroidered vest and a sword swinging on a plain leather baldric. “You.”

The man halted in mid-step, one foot in the air and a frightened look suddenly on his face. It was a hard face, but he looked as if he wanted to run. Instead, he turned to her and bowed, hands on knees, eyes fixed on her boots. “How may this one serve the captain?” he asked in a tight voice.

“You are a merchant?” Egeanin said. “You have sworn the oaths?”

“Yes, Captain. Yes.” He did not take his eyes from her feet.

“What do you tell the people when you take your wagons inland?”

“That they must obey the Forerunners, Captain, await the Return, and serve Those Who Come Home.”

“And do you never think to use that sword against us?”

The man’s hands went white-knuckled gripping his knees, and there was suddenly sweat in his voice. “I have sworn the oaths, Captain. I obey, await, and serve.”

“You see?” Egeanin said, turning to Domon. “There is no reason to forbid them weapons. There must be trade, and merchants must protect themselves from bandits. We allow the people to come and go as they will, so long as they obey, await, and serve. Their forefathers broke their oaths, but these have learned better.” She started back up the hill, and the soldiers pushed Domon after her.

He looked back at the merchant. The man stayed bent as he was till Egeanin was ten paces up the street, then he straightened and hurried the other way, leaping down the sloping street.

Egeanin and his guards did not look around, either, when a mounted Seanchan troop passed them, climbing the street. The soldiers rode creatures that looked almost like cats the size of horses, but with lizards’ scales rippling bronze beneath their saddles. Clawed feet grasped the cobblestones. A three-eyed head turned to regard Domon as the troop climbed by; aside from everything else, it seemed too knowing for Domon’s peace of mind. He stumbled and almost fell. All along the street, the Falmen were pressing themselves back against the fronts of the buildings, some closing their eyes. The Seanchan paid them no heed.

Domon understood why the Seanchan could allow the people as much freedom as they did. He wondered if he would have had nerve enough to resist. Damane. The nadularhiad. Monsters. He wondered if there was anything to stop the Seanchan from marching all the way to the Spine of the World. No my business, he reminded himself roughly, and considered whether there was any way to avoid the Seanchan in his future trading.

They reached the top of the incline, where the town gave way to hills. There was no town wall. Ahead were the inns that served merchants who traded inland, and wagon yards and stables. Here, the houses would have made respectable manors for the minor lords in Illian. The largest of them had an honor guard of Seanchan soldiers out front, and a blue-edged banner bearing a golden, spread-winged hawk rippling above it. Egeanin surrendered her sword and dagger before taking Domon inside. Her two soldiers remained in the street. Domon began to sweat. He smelled a lord in this; it was never good to do business with a lord on the lord’s own ground.

In the front hall, Egeanin left Domon at the door and spoke to a servant. A local man, judging by the full sleeves of his shirt and the spirals embroidered across his chest; Domon believed he caught the words “High Lord.” The servant hurried away, returning finally to lead them to what was surely the largest room in the house. Every stick of furniture had been cleared out of it, even the rugs, and the stone floor was polished to a bright gleam. Folding screens painted with strange birds hid walls and windows.

Egeanin stopped just inside the room. When Domon tried to ask where they were and why, she silenced him with a savage glare and a wordless growl. She did not move, but she seemed on the point of bouncing on her toes. She held whatever it was she had taken from his ship as if it were precious. He tried to imagine what it could be.

Suddenly a gong sounded softly, and the Seanchan woman dropped to her knees, setting the silk-wrapped something carefully beside her. At a look from her, Domon got down as well. Lords had strange ways, and he suspected Seanchan lords might have stranger ones than he knew.

Two men appeared in the doorway at the far end of the room. One had the left side of his scalp shaved, his remaining pale golden hair braided and hanging down over his ear to his shoulder. His deep yellow robe was just long enough to let the toes of yellow slippers peek out when he walked. The other wore a blue silk robe, brocaded with birds and long enough to trail nearly a span on the floor behind him. His head was shaved bald, and his fingernails were at least an inch long, those on the first two fingers of each hand lacquered blue. Domon’s mouth dropped open.

“You are in the presence of the High Lord Turak,” the yellow-haired man intoned, “who leads Those Who Come Before, and succors the Return.”

Egeanin prostrated herself with her hands at her sides. Domon imitated her with alacrity. Even the High Lords of Tear would no demand this, he thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Egeanin kissing the floor. With a grimace, he decided there was a limit to imitation. They can no see whether I do or no anyway.

Egeanin suddenly stood. He started to rise as well, and made it as far as one knee before a growl in her throat and a scandalized look on the face of the man with the braid put him back down, face to the floor and muttering under his breath. I would no do this for the King of Illian and the Council of Nine together.

“Your name is Egeanin?” It had to be the voice of the man in the blue robe. His slurring speech had a rhythm almost like singing.

“I was so named on my sword-day, High Lord,” she replied humbly.

“This is a fine specimen, Egeanin. Quite rare. Do you wish a payment?”

“That the High Lord is pleased is payment enough. I live to serve, High Lord.”

“I will mention your name to the Empress, Egeanin. After the Return, new names will be called to the Blood. Show yourself fit, and you may shed the name Egeanin for a higher.”

“The High Lord honors me.”

“Yes. You may leave me.”

Domon could see nothing but her boots backing out of the room, pausing at intervals for bows. The door closed behind her. There was a long silence. He was watching sweat from his forehead drip onto the floor when Turak spoke again.

“You may rise, trader.”

Domon got to his feet, and saw what Turak held in his long-nailed fingers. The cuendillar disk shaped into the ancient seal of the Aes Sedai. Remembering Egeanin’s reaction when he mentioned Aes Sedai, Domon began to sweat in earnest. There was no animosity in the High Lord’s dark eyes, only a slight curiosity, but Domon did not trust lords.

“Do you know what this is, trader?”

“No, High Lord.” Domon’s reply was as steady as a rock; no trader lasted long who could not lie with a straight face and an easy voice.

“And yet you kept it in a secret place.”

“I do collect old things, High Lord, from times past. There do be those who would steal such, did they lay easy to hand.”

Turak regarded the black-and-white disk for a moment. “This is cuendillar, trader—do you know that name?—and older than you perhaps know. Come with me.”

Domon followed the man cautiously, feeling a little more sure of himself. With any lord of the lands he knew, if guards were going to be summoned, they already would have been. But the little he had seen of Seanchan told him they did not do things as other men did. He schooled his face to stillness.

He was led into another room. He thought the furniture here had to have been brought by Turak. It seemed to be made of curves, with no straight lines at all, and the wood was polished to bring out strange graining. There was one chair, on a silk carpet woven in birds and flowers, and one large cabinet made in a circle. Folding screens made new walls.

The man with the braid opened the doors of the cabinet to reveal shelves holding an odd assortment of figurines, cups, bowls, vases, fifty different things, no two alike in size or shape. Domon’s breath caught as Turak carefully set the disk beside its exact twin.

“Cuendillar,” Turak said. “That is what I collect, trader. Only the Empress herself has a finer collection.”

Domon’s eyes almost popped out of his head. If everything on those shelves was truly cuendillar, it was enough to buy a kingdom, or at the least to found a great House. Even a king might beggar himself to buy so much of it, if he even knew where to find so much. He put on a smile.

“High Lord, please accept this piece as a gift.” He did not want to let it go, but that was better than angering this Seanchan. Maybe the Darkfriends will chase him now. “I do be but a simple trader. I want only to trade. Let me sail, and I do promise that—”

Turak’s expression never changed, but the man with the braid cut Domon off with a snapped, “Unshaven dog! You speak of giving the High Lord what Captain Egeanin has already given. You bargain, as if the High Lord were a—a merchant! You will be flayed alive over nine days, dog, and—” The barest motion of Turak’s finger silenced him.

“I cannot allow you to leave me, trader,” the High Lord said. “In this shadowed land of oath-breakers, I find none who can converse with a man of sensibilities. But you are a collector. Perhaps your conversation will be interesting.” He took the chair, lolling back in its curves to study Domon.

Domon put on what he hoped was an ingratiating smile. “High Lord, I do be a simple trader, a simple man. I do no have the way of talking with great Lords.”

The man with the braid glared at him, but Turak seemed not to hear. From behind one of the screens, a slim, pretty young woman appeared on quick feet to kneel beside the High Lord, offering a lacquered tray bearing a single cup, thin and handleless, of some steaming black liquid. Her dark, round face was vaguely reminiscent of the Sea Folk. Turak took the cup carefully in his long-nailed fingers, never looking at the young woman, and inhaled the fumes. Domon took one look at the girl and pulled his eyes away with a strangled gasp; her white silk robe was embroidered with flowers, but so sheer he could see right through it, and there was nothing beneath but her own slimness.

“The aroma of kaf,” Turak said, “is almost as enjoyable as the flavor. Now, trader. I have learned that cuendillar is even more rare here than in Seanchan. Tell me how a simple trader came to possess a piece.” He sipped his kaf and waited.

Domon took a deep breath and set about trying to lie his way out of Falme.

Chapter Text

Amadaine 15, 998 NE (June 23rd)

I awoke between my two wives, noticing neither had woken up yet. We lay on a bed in a large suite of the White Rose, an inn in Whitebridge. I was grateful for the luxurious bed, wide enough for three of us to sleep easily. Didn't stop Moiraine from clinging to me, her head nuzzled into my chest. Lan had slipped the innkeep extra gold that made him not question the three people taking the room.

Their faces were both beautiful and peaceful in sleep, but the delicate heart-shape of Moiraine's face caught my gaze. With no Aes Sedai wisdom in her eyes, Moiraine looked no older than Min, and not younger than Egwene. She looked my age. And she was mine. The sunlight was shining into our room, and it was far past when I usually woke for training. Lan must have let me sleep in. I smiled, feeling peaceful and content.

This is no curse, even if the binding makes them… fond of me. Last night proved it means something for both of them. Light, they both chose to dance with flowers in their hair with me, and only me, trading me off when one got tired. They had to know what that meant. The women must have told them. That night could have only been better if Egwene was there, to share me.

I lay there between them, simply watching their sleeping faces and enjoy their warmth, until a bleary-eyed Min gave me a tender smile.

"Hey there, sheepherder," she said softly with a quiet yawn, and snuggled closer to me. "Last night was… last night was a lot of fun, dancing was amazing. Thank you. I had a great time, for such a horrible start of the day."

I smiled back at her pretty face, soft and sleepy in the morning light. "Me too," I whispered quietly, to not wake Moiraine. "Dancing the night away was just what I needed to not focus on everything."

"Mmm. Good. You had a rough one yesterday." She yawned again, her fingers trailing up and down my bare chest, making me shiver. "You know, I decided something last night, yet was not brave enough follow through. But now," she said, crawling closer, and pushing herself over top me, careful not to touch Moiraine. Her face hung like a full moon over mine, her hair a curtain around our faces, tickling me. "Now I think I'm brave enough. Sheepherder, but this doesn't mean you can do it anytime you like. I'm not the Aes Sedai," Min said, before she quickly bent down and planted a soft kiss on my lips. She stayed for more than a moment, her lips lingering, then lay back and looked me with those big brown eyes, her cheeks red and shiny as apples.

My heart beat rapidly, like a callow boy, regardless of the experience I had with Egwene and Moiraine. I wanted to sit up and kiss her back, or at least hug her, but Moiraine lay clamped to my side sleeping, so I simply squeezed Min, holding her close to me, as she sunk into my side, molding herself against me. I could feel her softness, her curves against me.

"That was nice," I offered into the silence.

"Yes, it was," she sighed happily, eyes gleaming triumphantly, as she smiled up at me.

"It would be nice to do again," I mused.

Min felt quite pleased at that and brought her face to meet mine. We quietly kissed—softly and sweetly—a few more times, content in letting Moiraine sleep longer, but alas it was only another five minutes before Moiraine stirred, rolling onto her back and stretching her arms, her hairy mussy, but eyes bright and awake.

"This is truly the best way to wake up," she said, sound vaguely triumphant, and rolled back to squeeze me for a second before lifting her head up. "Don't you agree, sister-wife?"

Min's bond held a flash of annoyance, but she didn't react visibly, satisfied with laying her head on my chest and looking across, wearing a smile. "I will have to admit waking up in a nice bed instead of a ship's cabin really changes the experience. Less cramped, for one."

"Truly, nice big beds are a sign of civilization," Moiraine said grandiosely, giving me a smile, before moving closer and taking a few moments to steal a kiss—only briefly, unfortunately. "A nice bed, a warm husband and a morning kiss. All requirements for a great start to the morning, I've found." Then she glanced at Min and smiled encouragingly at her, eyes bright.

Min blushed bright red, and I laughed. "She's already beat you, Moiraine."

"Rand!" Min squealed as she lightly slapped my chest. "You don't need to tell her!" She was too cute.

I couldn't help it; I sat up, carefully dislodging Moiraine, and wrapped Min in a hug, nuzzling her, which made her simply squeal louder, though she embraced me back. My chest felt tight, and my heart beat like a drum, my skin tingled and I felt a heat wash over me. Last night meant something, I thought once more, as my heart swelled with joy and admiration and care and all the warm feelings one could feel. She kissed me, wanted to kiss me. "I am lucky. I am really, really lucky."

Moiraine nodded while she settled herself, as if that was only to be expected, while Min barked a laugh, and nuzzled me back, her soft silky hair tickling my skin. "Yes you are, sheepherder, and you better remember it!"

Without even a knock, Verin Sedai traipsed in, blinking owlishly in surprise when she saw us in bed, Min and I in an embrace. We held still in shock at her sudden arrival. "Why, it is nearly nine in the morning, and you three still aren't up yet?" she said with a distant kind of surprise, and blinked once more as she closed the door behind her.

"Have you ever heard of knocking, Verin Sedai?" Min asked sweetly and sarcastically, her voice veering towards dangerous, as she disentangled herself from me, and covered her bedclothes with the sheet. Moiraine looked as if she had swallowed a lemon.

Verin gave a glance at Min, frowning. "Of course, but since your man gets up early, as does Moiraine, I did not think I needed to."

"We were taking the time to relax, Verin. It is what one does after a long day. What is it you have barged in on us for?" Moiraine said, not bothering with politeness.

Verin smiled, a pleased look on her face, ignoring Moiraine's displeased countenance. "Lan Gaidin found two ships willing to take us, the Winds of Fortune, and the Red Racer. Both leave an hour after noon, bound for Illian. He told me you were awake and asked that you send Rand down to the common room, and to prepare to board."

"He could have waited a couple minutes longer…" Moiraine muttered under her breath. He really could have.

She kicked Verin out as I changed, and I quickly headed down the stairs, not eager to be late to Lan's summon. He leaned against the far wall of the common, as tall as me and more broadly muscled, his face stony but a softer light in his eyes when they landed on me. Only for a moment though, then they were like glints of glacier ice. He wore his armor and blade openly, having taken the role of bodyguard and manservant of Lady Moiraine.

He began speaking as I stepped into the common room. His voice was low and steady, easy for me to pick up but no one else passing through would know what he was muttering under his breath. "Good, you were quick. I let you sleep in, for Moiraine was as relaxed as I had ever felt her last night, and she deserved the rest after everything we've been through these past weeks. You, however, can make up for it by running the Whitebridge until noon. We won't have space for sparring or much exercises aboard the Winds of Fortune, unfortunately. We'll have to wait until Illian to continue. I want you to wear yourself out."

I wanted to groan, as I had hoped I would get today off, but I nodded instead. I could look forward to lazying days aboard the boat, so I should finish today strong. "Yes Lan Gaidin," I said dutifully. His face didn't change, but he put a hand on my shoulder.

"You did the best you could yesterday. In all things. Don't let the feelings of others cloud your path." Then as abruptly as he put the hand on my shoulder, he dropped it, and turned, taking for the stairs, headed up to Moiraine, I presumed. I was in a daze. Lan had actually tried to comfort me about Emond's Field. It felt… nice.

Once I shook myself free from my foolishness, I left the inn and made my way to the Whitebridge at a jog, moving through the mid-morning crowd with ease, passing busy tables filled with all kinds of goods, approaching the wide white landing arching up and out of the main square. Once my boots hit the strange near-pearlescent stone, I increased my pace to an all-out sprint, immediately passing travelers and wagons as I weaved between people when there was no clear path on the wide white paving stones, opaque and slick as glass. Shouts and yells echoed behind me, but I just slowed a bit and focused on running, and soon left the crowd behind. I ran a little past where the bridge touched down, slowing to a jog before looping back around to sprint across the bridge once more.

As I alternated between running and sprinting, I took the time to think. Yesterday, I had realized something. Something dangerous. Something important. I would have to teach men how to channel, for the Last Battle, and to fight the Whitecloaks, if Moiraine turned out to be correct. It just made sense to me, with everything that has happened. I believed it was why the Iridescent Flame blessed me with weaves. And while men go mad, they do not go mad instantly. I would have to speak with Moiraine about it, but I was not sure there was any way to broach the subject delicately. She may be fine with me channeling, now, but I remember her early fear. And these men won't have my protections, unless they turn out to be shapechangers as well. Could I figure out a defense from the Taint, using the Flame Imperishable, somehow? Maybe Power Armor, or Healing? I mused.

Still, men who could channel will be needed, to fight the Shadow, to combat whatever horrors lie lurking in the shadows of the Children of the Light, and whatever other traps lie in wait for me, regardless of whether they go mad. Could they bond with an Aes Sedai to keep a watch on them until the Last Battle is won? Would Moiraine think me mad for suggesting such a thing for her sisters? It may be impossible, but if I could get the White Tower to support me, support male channelers, in that way, men and women working together in the One Power will surely win Tarmon Gai'don. It seemed a distant dream, though. The Red Ajah would oppose such a move at every turn.

These thoughts filled my mind the sixteen times I crossed the Whitebridge and on the seventeenth, I spotted Lan at the top of the arch, standing tall and stone-faced, watching me. I sprinted until I reached him, slowing down once I was past him, rounding on him, hand on knees, panting.

"Time to go?" I finally asked once I caught my breath.

He nodded but did not move. "How many?"

"Sixteen full crossings," I said tiredly, nearing exhaustion from the sprints.

Nothing about his face really changed, maybe a softening of his temples, or a twitch of the lips, but I could tell he was pleased. "If only I could spend some time to train you in Tar Valon. You would have put all those upstart lordlings in their place on the bridge runs. A 'wild' Warder trained by a 'wild' Warder. The horror it would cause. The horror it probably is causing, in those who watched us as we left Shienar."

"Why is there any animosity at all, between Warders who were trained in the White Tower, and those found out in the world?" I asked, confused. We began to make our way down back into the town, passing by a cart of geese, honking in their cages.

Lan was quiet for a long moment, giving me a considering look. "I will tell you the way I have come to understand it. We aren't taught loyalty to the White Tower like 'tower' Warders are. 'Wild' Warders are loyal to their Aes Sedai above everything, and that makes them dangerous. There are also tales of 'wild' Warders acting in spirit, and not literal words, of orders, and even disobeying orders to save their Aes Sedai, so the idea has spread that they are harder to control. Potentially disloyal and hard to control aren't great attributes for Aes Sedai who find their Warders like a craftsman examining tools for sale. Greens are the most notorious for bonding 'in the wild', while most other Ajah's stick to 'tower' warders."

I considered that for a minute. I would place Moiraine and myself far above the White Tower. The fears may be justified "Seems pointless to me. Conflict for conflict's sake." They stepped off the bridge and into the noon-time crowd.

"Do you have any other questions, scales?" Lan muttered, though completely audible to my enhanced hearing.

"So Moiraine's probably in even more hot water for bonding two 'wild' Warders, huh?"

"Yes, but she's in trouble enough for simply bonding you. Since she isn't Green, the Hall of the Tower would think her a foolish girl and a flouter of tradition for bonding with two 'wild' Warders. More of a foolish girl, really, though tradition is very important with the White Tower. They underestimate our Aes Sedai."

I walked beside him in silence, thinking. They think her more of a foolish girl, so to them she is already foolish and still a child. Strange of them to think of Moiraine that way. "Why?"

"Why what?" he grunted.

"Why do they already think Moiraine a foolish girl? She is surely a woman. Light, she's probably twice my age, and she's an Aes Sedai," I said, as we moved through the crowd.

Lan let out a peal of laughter that caused others to stare at us, before our intimidating height, muscular bodies, and swords caused them to look away. Lan gave me a mirthful look, the most amused I'd ever seen him by far. "Light, I'll have to tell her that. And both of you would be a child to those old crones, the same as anybody younger than at least a century. Why do you think they would find her foolish, over these last years?"

I took a minute, as we neared the docks, moving through the busy crowd of sailors and merchants, occasional wagons picking their way through on cobblestone streets. The only things she's done is look for me, as far as I've been told. "I… I don't know for certain, but if I had to guess, because she was looking for me, rather than doing what they wanted? It certainly seems like Moiraine does as she wishes."

Lan nodded firmly. "Exactly. There is a brain that scaly head of yours. For decades she has evaded the Hall's orders and recommendations, following her trail and hunches instead of doing what she was told. I've been there every step of the way. But now she has found you and bound you up tight with her. With who you are, scales, and the fact you were bonded as a 'wild' Warder, not trained in Tower doctrine, bonded to the rogue Blue Moiraine Damodred, it will be a miracle if she keeps the shawl until the end of the year, if you announce yourself, even if she was pillow friends with Siuan Sanche. It's a miracle she's kept away from the White Tower this long, and luck was surely on your side when she had you two visit. I could have grabbed Min just fine, but no, you both had to visit her."

My mind reeled at that revelation. Moiraine had even less connection to the White Tower than she had intimated, and only her close bond to the Amyrlin Seat seemed to keep her tied. I suddenly wanted to laugh at my lofty dream of Aes Sedai and male channelers, bonding. And I hadn't known. She hadn't told me. But I should have realized. My Aes Sedai wife might soon not be able to call herself that once I am announced. Surely the Hall of Tower will react badly to the news, even if the Amyrlin Seat expects it. Surely she knew this already. And she had not told me.

I told him as much, to a dissatisfying grunt of acknowledgement. As we pushed through the crowd, getting closer to the docks, he explained how even if the Amyrlin Seat wants something one way, the Hall of the Tower can do quite the other, and even defy the Amyrlin if the greater consensus is reached. "I tell you this, because you deserve to know, and you had yet to figure it out," was what he left me with, as we arrived at the ships. With Lan's words, I had only a sinking hope the White Tower would be of any use at all. I was in a sour mood as we boarded the Winds of Fortune, but I used the ko'di to burn it all away, refreshing myself. The mood came back soon enough, the thoughts circled my brain.

"What's wrong?" asked Min. It had been about twenty minutes since we launched, and I had been simply leaning over the railing, watching the Whitebridge dwindle into the distance, trying to let my feelings go.

"Lan told me some things. Things I need to think about. It's about the White Tower, political stuff," I dissembled, burning away the anger that kept igniting, like a hidden ember lay buried amongst the cold ash. I had let my mood be entirely ruined, any good feelings from the morning now seemed sour. What else did she not tell me? I could not help thinking, before squashing the thought like an irritating bug.

Min could tell I was lying. She frowned. "I'll listen, you can tell me what happened."

I looked at her and opened my mouth. Moiraine might lose her title of Aes Sedai because of me. I think I need to teach male channelers which will probably turn the White Tower against me, a White Tower that already thinks my wife is a foolish girl spitting on tradition, a White Tower that I fear will never work with me like I will need. She huffed when I didn't answer, the words I wanted to say stuck in my mouth like treacle, thick and sticky. I swallowed.

"When you want to tell me, you know where I am. I'll leave you to your brooding," she said, a hint of anger in her tone. Great job, Rand. The day did not get better from there.

I waited until that evening to confront Moiraine.

"How exactly do you think the White Tower will react to the news you've bonded the Dragon Reborn?" I asked her straight out, as I sat in a Circle with her while she was about to walk Min through a lesson on weaving Air, using a pile of cloths.

I was supposed to be watching, as Moiraine wanted to use the time aboard the ship to start training me in saidar using the Circle, but I couldn't hold my temper any longer, the thoughts having been boiling at a simmer for hours now. She had known something was wrong, and Min had tried to pull it out of me, but I had been stubbornly quiet, alternating between anger at the Aes Sedai and self-recrimination over not realizing how precarious our situation was. For being so stupid. I needed to be smarter.

"Is now an appropriate time to ask?" she replied calmly, though some annoyance and surprise filtered into the bond. Perhaps she expected me to wait longer. Well, too late, I already started. al'Thor men are stubborn.

"Were you ever going to tell me, that bonding me, the Dragon Reborn, will almost certainly get you stripped of the Shawl? That the White Tower is sure to view us as rogue agents in need of leashing if not putting down? That the Amyrlin Seat will only be able to do so much before the Hall of the Tower acts? That they could act against her, even, if enough Sitters stand for it?"

"You've been talking to Lan," she said succinctly and a brassy note of frustration sounded in the bond. "Whether or not the Hall of the Tower supports us is a matter for the future, if or when things change. And it is the Amyrlin Seat’s purview. To worry about it now is pointless, Rand, for we have the backing of the Amyrlin Seat at this very moment. I bear her seal on my person. Either we will have the support of the Hall of the Tower in the rest of our conquest, or we will not. But they will not stop us, try as they might. I will not let them. You will not let them. The Pattern will not let them, not easily. The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, and it wills your victory. The path may be precarious, but the future is bright," she said authoritatively, dismissively.

"I think this is a little more important than you make it out to be, Moiraine. The White Tower will turn the world against me!" I snapped back, frustrated.

"Of course it matters," she said with icy calm. "Do you think I like the idea that you may have to face my sisters in battle? That you may end up killing some of them? The thought makes me wish to scream and shout," she stated with supreme dispassion, but her emotions flailed like headless snakes in the bond, desperation and hope and resignation warring with each other and a dozen other emotions. Min felt uncomfortable and worried, seeming to fall in on herself. "But until we reach that point, I hope and aim for a peaceful resolution, of you and the White Tower united in purpose for the Last Battle. It is the outcome we must strive for, Rand."

"I truly wish it were, but I don't think that will be possible, Moiraine," I said with a sigh, my shoulders slumping.

"And what is that supposed to mean, Rand al'Thor?" she said, giving me a searching look, a frisson of worry blooming.

"You're barely attached to the Tower, having spent decades on your search for me with only the Amyrlin Seat knowing your mission, and she seems to spend all her time covering your backside from what I understand. I'm the final straw. Once I announce myself, the Hall will surely react badly, probably strip you of the shawl, and the Amyrlin of her stole when they realize what our meetings truly were. The Amyrlin Seat, meeting with the Dragon Reborn, without telling the Hall of the Tower? That is certainly some kind of offense, that requires punishment, if not outright abdication," I said, serious and stern.

Moiraine looked tired then, and gave a heavy sigh. Resignation had won. "What is the point of this Rand? This regaling of how thin the path we walk is? I am sorry that I had not told you, but if I told you everything I knew, you would be chasing so many trails and dead ends, we would be lost until the Last Battle. There is simply too much for you to learn still, too many secrets that are pointless to tell you without context, a context you are still learning."

"The point is, I would have liked to know without having to be told by your Warder, Moiraine. I would like to be a partner in this. Because I realized something recently. When I announce I am willing to train men who can channel, how will I ever have the hope that the White Tower could unite with me? I will need you, then more than ever, Moiraine." There. I said it. I may be angry, and tonight may not have been the best time, but the truth was out now.

Min gasped, shocked at my words, and Moiraine blanched, sickening horror and surprise filled her bond, a discordant, brazen bellow. "Rand." Moiraine said, hurriedly. "You do not seriously mean—"

I interrupted, wishing to explain my reasoning in the face of her emotions. I knew it would make her upset, but I was a little surprised at how upset she was. "If the Whitecloaks have men who can channel, ready and waiting for some nefarious purpose, then I need to train my own group of male channelers. If they can manage it, without losing men swiftly to the madness, then it is possible. And the Shadow. There aren't nearly enough Aes Sedai to fight the Last Battle. There needs to be more channelers, and all the men will need to do is survive to Tarmon Gai'don. The Iridescent Flame gave me these weaves for a reason, and makes me gain more with each woman I bind. That has to mean something. They gave me the revelation I should have trained in the One Power. And that was before I was protected by being a chinnar'veren, subject to the Taint just like any other male channeler. That has to mean something, Moiraine!"

"You cannot!" Moiraine shouted with authority, a hint of desperation in her voice. Min looked lost between us. "These men, they will most likely go mad before the Last Battle and cause immeasurable harm with even a third of the weaves you have gained."

"You forbid me?" I said, wonderingly, disbelieving laughter welling in my throat. "Like you are my mother, rather than my wife? Like I am to be tied to your apron strings and only let out to play? Am I to truly be leashed and collared as well, like the Hall would wish?"

She flinched slightly, before regaining her cool bearing. "Rand, please be reasonable. Hyperbole has no place here. These men will be dangerous walking weapons that inevitably will go mad. You cannot reasonably expect me to agree with you simply teaching whoever walks up and asks. There must be rules. Strictures. Limits. Safety measures. If I have to, if you must claw this from me despite all protest, I can only assent to testing for such men, and the barest of teachings, unless and until you find a way to cleanse saidin, or protect them from the Taint."

"I never said that I would teach anyone who asks. I won't teach just anyone anything. I'm not an idiot, Moiraine! I have ideas. Thoughts about this. That is all. I wanted to tell you in a better way, but it just came out.”

She gave me a look of sympathy, that made my skin burn with shame. "You are young, and somewhat naïve, Rand. It is simply a matter of maturity and time. You have many decades and centuries to live. You have much to learn about everything. Is now really the time for such a divisive thing, teaching male channelers? Surely you can wait a year or two?"

I bristled at her words, and swallowed the hurt. Min made a move, then stopped, her mouth moving, but no sound escaped. "I never said now. Light Moiraine, listen to the words I speak. How do you think the White Tower will react when I announce I am willing to train other men? It will surely reach the Hall as quick as a pigeon flies and just as surely, they will turn every nation against me, in a coalition like the Aiel War. Whatever gains I make in Illian and Toman Head will be lost in a tide of steel. That is the future I face, and I cannot even rely on the fact that you will remain an Aes Sedai!" Anger was a ball of fire that dwelt in my chest, burning bright.

"Then… don't announce it, if that's such an issue." Min spoke up for the first time since the argument started, and we both looked at her. "Train them in secret. Only take a few as your apprentices in the One Power, or something like that. That way it will only be rumor and hearsay that could carry word of your teaching to the White Tower. Then, when you're ready to fend off the White Tower, announce whatever you like, with your apprentices ready to function as teachers of the men who wish to learn."

Her words broke me from my spell of anger. That… that wasn't unreasonable. I could even wait to announce them until after I did something obvious prophetic, like take the Stone. I took a long moment to consider what Min had offered. That actually would work quite well.

"I'd be limited by who I could find amongst the Shienarans, but there only has to be one to start with. Light knows it will be Masema, somehow," I half-joked, deflating as my anger bled away like lifeblood, leaving me hollow and smoldering. I had been angry at Moiraine, angry at the Amyrlin, angry at the White Tower that will make me an enemy simply by the sheer fact of my existence and what I had to do to survive. Angry I hadn't realized sooner how much an alliance between us stood on pillars of sand. Angry I had let the Amyrlin Seat affect me so much, had let her rule our supposed 'discussion', had feared her. Angry that Moiraine had not told me, that Lan had to spell it out to me. But it was gone now, burnt out, the cold ash of regret and shame left. There were so many better ways to have done this.

Moiraine nodded primly, feeling of resolution and regret tinged with a low hum of horror, a discordant buzz. "I can… accept you taking on an apprentice or two from the men. If you can find a way to test them, and are willing to only teach them the simplest weaves, and never the Door."

I voiced one thought I had running the Whitebridge. "I can agree to that. I had the idea to use Fire like you do the stone of your kesiera, a small tongue of flame to use as a mediation aid, to flare and see if they cannot feel saidin somehow, reach out and seize it. I'm not sure if it will work…" I trailed off, as Moiraine stared at me with surprised, considering eyes.

"That… that may very well work, Rand. I would caution you to try the smallest amount of saidin as possible, for women have been known to damage their potential if the one who introduces them to saidar uses too much Power." She still felt a quiet throb of horror and regret. I couldn't change how she felt. What she was agreeing to was anathema to her very identity as an Aes Sedai. Yet she was agreeing to it. I should be thankful, but I just felt a throbbing sense of shame that I had pushed her to this point. That I had let my anger boil until it burst.

"So is my lesson postponed or…?" Min asked, grinning weakly.

"No, let us start. We do not need to discuss this anymore. The decision has been made. Rand, focus on the threads, and how we guide them, it will be far different from what you are used to," Moiraine began, cool and calm once more, and I reluctantly settled into the Circle to watch saidar woven.

It was a hard lesson to take in, with saidar being absolutely opposite of saidin in so many ways, even as I watched the two women. And my dismal mood did not help my concentration. Thankfully, soon enough Min was exhausted, and we all went to bed. Even more thankfully, Moiraine still deigned to cling to me like a limpet in our tight bed. I hadn't ruined everything.

"It's scary," she murmured into my side. "I've only been an Aes Sedai for two decades, and I'm supposed to guide the Dragon Reborn?" She laughed bitterly. "Sometimes I feel as if I barely know what I am doing, that I am merely a child playing pretend. So I focus on the future, on our goals, and I make mistakes. I am sorry I did not properly explain how precarious the situation in the Tower was, or how they may react. I should have included that in your education already. It was a misstep, and not malicious."

It felt nice that she apologized, like a weight had been lifted, and I felt I needed do the same, regret making my voice thick. "I'm sorry for starting an argument. I should have waited to address the matter after the lesson. And I should have told you about my ideas in a better, less alarming way."

"Yes, you should have. Next time, simply talk to me. I knew you were upset, but you brooded instead of telling one of your wives," she said as she nuzzled me like a cat. "You are a giant mule-headed sheepherder who has the gall to claim me as his wife and then yell at me as if I am some village wife. Me! I am the blood of royalty, I demand recompense for tonight's foolishness," Moiraine said as she crawled up my chest and pressed her lips against mine in desperate need.

Amadaine 16, 998 NE (June 24th)

Late next morning I sat next to Min in our room, idly playing the flute, a jaunty tune from one of my dreams. It was strange to have so much time on my hands, without the constant exercising Lan put me through. I itched a little to play with saidin, but resisted. It had felt freeing to wield it in battle two days ago, as overwhelming and terrifying as it was to consider now. The destruction I had wrought… the death I had brought to those Trollocs… Someday I would have to do the same to men… I thought, shivering. Hopefully not soon.

"So are we going to talk about yesterday?" Min asked suddenly. She wore a yellow coat embroidered with grapevines on the cuffs, and had been leaning on me, before she spoke. Now she looked at me, slightly nervous. I stopped playing and focused.

"That was the wrong time to have the argument, and far too heated as well. I was angry. At Moiraine and myself and the White Tower. I apologized to her, after you went to sleep. I should have talked with you about it, though, when I first boarded. I just… I just couldn't get the words out."

"Mmm. Good. You can at least recognize your foolishness. I could tell about the Aes Sedai, and the Tower, but what about yourself?" Min asked, curious.

"I should have known. I should have realized the White Tower will never truly ally with me until they have to, and even then... I feel a full idiot for Lan having to spell it out to me. But I can't believe it is just a habit for her to not tell me things because there's too much I already don't know! Light knows what else she's kept from me. I thought we had gotten closer, and this just felt like it revealed a gulf between us I did not even realize was there." I know Moiraine cares for me, and she obviously liked me, physically. That much is obvious. But if she loves me, would she not tell me things like this? But she said it wasn't malicious… and maybe keeping it from me wasn't considered malicious by her? Who knows how twisty her thoughts get inside that beautiful head of hers. Those were the kinds of thoughts I had woken up with. And yet, she had apologized, and told me it was a mistake. Do I even have the right to be upset still?

“Anyone could have told you a relationship with an Aes Sedai would not be easy, Rand. You've known each other for less than half a year, and have been ‘married’ for less than two months. Give her time. She will learn to live with you, as you learn to live with her. Let her adjust, and she will tell you her secrets, eventually. Aes Sedai live for centuries, they're perspective is necessarily longer. Love doesn't just blossom out of nowhere. It takes time and effort to grow.”

"I know…" I said reluctantly. "I just wish…" I couldn't finish my thoughts. What did I wish for? That we were partners in truth, rather than polite fiction? That she would tell me everything? What would I even do with all that information? That I was sure she loved me for me, and not for being the Dragon Reborn?

I considered Min's words. She was right, I would have years to learn to live with Moiraine, and she with me. There will be a time when I know everything she knows. I just wish… There was a knock on the door, and I called out for them to come in. Perrin entered the room, looking nervous.

"Oh, this is where you are Min. Moiraine Sedai was looking for you."

Min sighed and got up from the bed, after giving me a quick peck on the cheek. "It seems I have another lesson with our favorite Aes Sedai. Think about what I said, Rand. Give it time, you've made it this far. Don't falter now."

As she left, Perrin stepped into the room further, and as the door closed behind Min, she shot me a smile over her shoulder that I returned, my heart warm. I am lucky to have her.

"Um. You… you've never asked," said Perrin nervously, "but I've decided it is time to tell someone."

I sat up straighter, and adjusted my position. "Tell me what, Perrin?"

"My eyes are yellow and you've never asked why," Perrin said suddenly, frowning lightly, as he took off his plain green coat, with simple embroidery of red wolves, and put it on top of a chair as he made his way over to sit next to me on the bed.

"Yes? Well, I figured you'd tell me when you know or feel you can? I thought it might be something like one of my gifts, like a bittersweet thing, so you wouldn't want to talk about it. Which I get completely. Because I'm pretty sure your eyes weren't yellow before Shadar Logoth," I said, trying for casual, but still intensely curious.

Perrin looked at me, mouth open in surprise. "Actually, it's almost exactly like that, Rand. Bittersweet." I nodded but said no more, waiting for Perrin to speak. He suddenly chuckled, a low sound. "Here I am worrying still over telling you, and you're the one who can understand the most, being changed." Perrin shook his shaggy head. "Elyas called us 'wolfbrothers.' My senses are better… my sense of smell is enhanced. I can smell people's emotion—I can smell your curiosity—and my hearing is far greater, and I can see in the dark much better. And those are the good things."

I waited a minute for him to continue, but he sat there, staring off with a frown. "And the bad, Perrin?"

Slowly he looked at me. "I can… speak with wolves. In my head. From far off." Each word was dragged out of him, and then they begin to spill from his mouth. “I can sense them always, on the edge of my mind, unless I work at pushing them away. They haunt my dreams, and tell me things, and make me feel strange things and emotions, and like I don't quite fit in my skin sometimes. And my anger is harder to control now, I worry it is the wolves influencing me. Light, Rand, I block them out the best I can, but there's only so much I can do,” he said desperately.

I put an arm around my friend and gave him a comforting hug that the lunk relaxed into it. I don't think I was this touchy-feely before, but I've learned from my wives how much touch can comfort and Perrin seemed like he needed it. "I'm glad you've told me. That sounds really tough, Perrin, especially if you haven't had anyone to speak out it with. I'm going to say something a little crazy, though. So bear with me." Perrin nodded, focus on me. "Have you asked Moiraine or Verin Sedai for help? Perhaps they know what this is?" I offered.

Perrin stiffened, then relaxed. "Not everyone is used to asking Aes Sedai for help, and getting entangled in their plots, Rand."

I laughed, releasing the hug and slapping his back. "We are so entangled, Perrin, that we will never be free. Better to embrace it, I think. Maybe they will help and maybe they won't, but you cannot know unless you try."

He frowned at that but didn't deny it. "I… I can speak to Moiraine Sedai about it. Perhaps she will know something. Perhaps she's heard of this."

"Perhaps." I paused and let Perrin go. "Have you told Mat?"

Perrin looked away, guiltily. "I wasn't sure how he'd react. I wanted to tell you first."

I stood up then and turned to Perrin. "Then let's go tell him, strike while the iron's hot, as you blacksmith’s say."

"Blood and bloody ashes, am I the only one without some strange power?" Mat asked, incredulous.

"Just you wait, Mat Cauthon. You're ta'veren just as we are. You'll get your due," I said ominously, with a grin.

Mat punched me lightly. "Light burn you, don't jinx me, Rand. So Perrin, let me get this straight. You're a wolfman now."

“Wolfbrother,” Perrin corrected with a frown. The three of them sat in Mat and Perrin’s room.

"Wolfbrother. And you talk to wolves. And can smell, hear and see good. What do they even say? Hey, good hunting over here?"

"Among other things, yes," Perrin rumbled from his chair.

"And that scares you?" Mat asked incredulous, leaning back.

"Hey, now. Your mind and body changing without your understanding is pretty bloody fucking terrifying, Matrim," I interjected, as I could see Perrin's hackles seemed to rise.

Mat frowned and made to say something, before stopping. Then he sighed and opened his mouth again. "It is terrifying… Did you know I had no memory of Daim al'Carr? A boy, eight years old, and I had no idea he existed, no memory held even a hint I had forgotten him. What else have I forgotten that I don't even know, that no hint of lies in what remains?"

"I had to keep acting as if I knew people yesterday, as if the entire village wasn't a stranger," I added.

"I could hear every whisper about us, smelling the growing fear and confusion and worry," Perrin said in a low, sad voice.

"Being ta'veren is bloody awful, adventures aren't nearly as fun as the books, they are either boring or sad or terrifying. And now we'll be stuck aboard another flaming ship and we don't even have training!" Mat complained, throwing his arms back and flopping onto the bed.

"I thought you hated training?" Perrin said with curiosity.

Mat started, making a funny face as he realized what he had said. "It's not like I enjoy it, but you cannot deny to passes the time!" he said from where he lay.

"I stretched this morning with Lan, as the sun rose. You are welcome to join us," I offered with a grin.

Mat shuddered. "No way, too early. To get back on topic, Perrin. You have wolf powers. Have you used them?"

Perrin looked between the two young men, and nodded slowly. "On Sunday, I called the closest packs, to help Rand. I told them there were Trollocs and Fades and they came as fast as they could."

That sparked a memory, and my curiosity rose. "Lan did say something about wolves taking down a Myrddraal. That's amazing, Perrin! I had no idea wolves would attack shadowspawn. Do you think a pack would be willing to follow us? Could they scout ahead for us and tell you what they see? How far away can you speak to them?"

Perrin was taken aback, and Mat laughed. “Oh Rand, sometimes you’re as bad as Egwene with the questions.”

Perrin shook his shaggy head. "Wolves hate shadowspawn. Seven wolves died to take down that Fade, four from one pack and three from another, including the packleader. And they'll consider that dying well, a good hunt. And I can speak to them from miles away, maybe twenty, thirty miles. And if they've heard of me, or Elias, they may be willing to track for us. I… I try not to talk to them."

"If you're worried about talking with them, perhaps one of us could sit with you, while you do it. Like maybe for ten or twenty minutes a day? Just so you can get used to doing it, in case we need wolves again?" I offered, the idea popping into my mind. “Since you have this power, you should train it. Power without training was a recipe for disaster. Remember the Eye of the World?”

Perrin took nearly two minutes to respond, before finally nodding. "Let's talk to Moiraine Sedai next, then both of you can watch over me, while I… while I talk to wolves." Perrin took a deep breath, and then nodded resolutely one last time. "That's the plan."

I slapped his back. "Good man. We'll get this Wolfbrother stuff figured out. Once it is familiar, it won't be nearly as scary. Trust me, it was the same with saidin."

Perrin nodded reluctantly, and they made their way to where Moiraine had sequestered herself, Lan’s quarters. After he explained the situation Moiraine eyed Perrin like he was a curious insect, much to my dismay.

"Verin Sedai told me of a man with eyes like Perrin's. A Warder from before my time, though Lan knows of him. Elyas Machera. And most likely, the very same Elyas you just told me of, this 'Wolfbrother.' He was held to be gentled by Red Ajah, and claimed them Black Ajah. In the resulting chaos, he murdered three Warders and fled the Tower. Verin is uncertain whether the power is something old come again, or something new. Unfortunately I know little more, and neither does Verin."

"It's something old, Moiraine Sedai," Perrin corrected. "The wolves, they used to run with men, in the beginning of the Wheel. Though they claim it was not so in the Song, whatever that means."

"The Iridescent Flame claimed the Creator made a 'Song that was Sundered', whatever that means. Perhaps it is related?" I added.

"Interesting. The Ogier sing songs of growth, and the Tuatha'an seek a song they lost. And now wolves and spirits speak of songs as well." She pursed her lips. "But that can be a mystery for another day. Something I shall have to inform Verin Sedai of, certainly. Unfortunately, I know practically nothing about your condition, but for now, can you try and speak to some wolves? I wish to see what it looks like."

Then we sat there, hand in hand, watching as Perrin closed his eyes, occasionally twitching, his face going through different expressions, before he returned and opened his eyes.

"There's a pack on the west bank that has heard of Elyas, but not me, and are unwilling to come close to see, but willing to speak. They'll follow the river for the next couple days anyway, so I'll speak with them again. I let them know that shadowspawn seek us, so they'll be on the lookout. They hate shadowspawn."

"A good idea, Perrin. I take it you were responsible for the wolves that hunted the Myrddraal on Sunday?" Moiraine said in a sweet voice.

He nodded, blushing a little. I squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back harder.

“Excellent work, there. Good initiative, as Lan would say. It may be scary, this power from the beginning, but with experience and time, you will master it. Just like women master saidar. It is not a curse, but a gift, from the Creator.”

“If you say so, Moiraine Sedai,” Perrin said slowly.

“Is there anything else I should know?”

Perrin paused, before he shook his head.

“You are free to go, then, Perrin. Come back tomorrow during the afternoon and we will work on some meditation techniques that Rand’s found useful before you contact your pack,” she said, dismissing him. He left quickly, but gave us both a hearty thanks.

Then Moiraine turned to me, eyes glinting. "Now, while I have you, Rand, why don't we work on your control. I will demonstrate. Let us start with an orrery of heatless flame. Each 'planet' shall have at least two 'moons' in orbit. I want different colors for each object in orbit, and seven 'planets' orbiting the 'star', understood?" Lights bloomed in the air in front of Moiraine, as she dragged me into a Circle, a nimbus of silver-gold surrounding her before she cut me loose.

I focused and got to work, creating ball shaped flames with ease, the smoothness of the orbits being what required finesse and focus.

Chapter Text

Amadaine 17-20, 998 NE (June 25th-28th)

The next few days were simple and restful. I woke with the dawn, slipped out of the grasping arms of my wives, and stretched with Lan. Then I spent the mornings lazing with Min as we read, or chatting with Mat and Perrin. Loial kept mostly to his room, writing vociferously about our journey so far, and staying away from the curious sailors. After lunch I trained control of the One Power and studied, in my room. Moiraine read aloud from tomes on Illian as I wrote with fire what I heard into the air—as quickly and as legibly as possible to practice fine control and quick reaction times—before Perrin would hesitantly knock on the door, and consult with the wolves. Nothing was following us, no hints of shadowspawn or Darkfriends alike. I felt vindicated, each day we got farther from any signs of the Shadow. Who knows how many would have died in those Light-forsaken woods. And each night I sat in on a lesson of Min's, before I would attempt to do the same, with the saidar provided by a Circle. It was much harder than saidin ever was, but slowly I was grasping it. Slowly.

Then we visited Emond’s Field, revealing the mess I had made.

On the first visit back to Emond’s Field, on the 20th, I did not want to make my way into the village itself, wishing to merely meet with my father to ask if there were any issues with the sailors. I honestly did not wish to deal with any of the reactions I would surely get, with days for rumors and hearsay to fester, and the tired look my father gave me when I arrived only deepened that wish. Alas, it was not to be. A Dragon’s Fang marked his door, and a small patch of grass was burnt near the porch. Bits of rotten fruit and vegetables smeared the front of the house, and a window was broken, the shutter rent.

"What happened?" I blurted out, horrified and angry at what I saw.

"Just a bit of trouble with Cenn Buie leading the Congar’s and Coplin’s and a couple village folk the last couple nights. Nonsense mostly. Caught them making the mark, and Hari Coplin dropped his torch in fright when I got too close. The shutter was him too, after I made a fool of him."

"…Why?" I asked.

"Because he's a fool," Tam said succinctly.

"No, why are they doing this?"

My father gave me a pitying look and sighed heavily, looking his age. "Old Cenn told near everyone in the village you are a False Dragon, a madman already, and Marin and the Women’s Circle been fighting with the Village Council over it. The Women’s Circle turned around and said you were the true Dragon Reborn in response to Cenn, for some fool reason. Now wives and husbands are fighting about it, homes turned into conversational battlefields. There’s a fang scrawled every night on the Winespring Inn, and on the Wisdom’s door, Light burn me! The Wisdom’s door! And Abell listens too much the sailors, seems to flip one way or the other about you depending on his mood, and never the right way when we manage to wrangle a vote. Crane and Hurn are noncommittal, not voting, claiming they need more evidence for something so important. Only Bran, Haral and I voted to declare you the Dragon Reborn. I tell them you’re true, and some sailors agree, but others, the First Mate most loudly, say you are a False Dragon, a conspiracy made by Aes Sedai to control the world. I don’t think you made the best impression with how… close you are to Moiraine, even if they are men of Tar Valon. It’s been a long few days, Rand, and it’ll be a long few more."

"My father doesn’t believe Rand?" Mat asked, incredulous. "But I told him it was all true." He turned to me. "Honestly, I did, Rand." He sounded as if he couldn't believe it. I was stunned at how quickly everything escalated.

"I think your father does not want to believe Rand, and he needs someone to blame," said Tam, carefully.

"I’ll speak to him and get him onboard. I mean, bloody ashes, even I believe Rand’s the Dragon now. The blasted Forsaken hunt him. And folks want to claim he's False? Nonsense. Foolish nonsense."

"This 'foolish nonsense' with torches cannot keep happening. What happens when they want to do something more than a mark?!" I exclaimed worriedly. "I will have to speak with the First Mate, as well. He was supposed to keep his people under control, not parrot wild stories without an ounce of truth. Other than the speaking out, have the sailors behaved themselves? No drunken conduct, no violence?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"Most have tried to be as polite as possible, even the ones who think you False. The sailors who hold to you being true often try to help out around the village, porting and scut work mostly, but they're used to such things. Some even have been helping out temporarily on some farms nearby, coming back for dinner at the Winespring Inn. No trouble yet, except for some tales they tell scaring littler ones. And, of course, the First Mate."

"Well, that’s good to know. At least most are behaving. So everyone knows I’m claiming to be the Dragon Reborn, huh?"

Tam gave me a look as if I were being silly. "I would be surprised if there wasn’t another dozen who knew in Watch Hill and Deven Ride each, and growing greater every day."

"Great. I should have expected the news would travel this fast, even in the Two Rivers. Well, I’m going to go back to the clearing, Moiraine and I were going to travel elsewhere and test some things, but it looks like I need to head into town, so we’ll test them here. Do not worry about any large lights in the sky."

My father gave me a grin and waggled his eyebrows. "As long as you don’t damage the tabac, play to your heart’s content with your Aes Sedai wife." I blushed furiously.

Mat roared with laughter and said, "Oh, your da is too much, Rand." Tam clapped his back, smiling.

Perrin and Mat headed off, while I took a slow walk back to Moiraine, enjoying the sunshine on my face, and trying to not think about having to go into the village. The chatter of birdsong and squirrels came from the branches of leatherleaf and oak and pine, and I simply took a moment to enjoy the feeling of nothing important happening. Then I was moving again, swifter now.

"Change of plans," I called out to the Aes Sedai and her true Warder. "I’ll need to go into town soon, to take care of business. Cenn Buie and the First Mate, Vasil, are stirring up trouble."

"I knew we should have left the captain here," Moiraine said quietly, feeling vindicated.

I explained what I had seen, and what Tam had told me, leaving no detail out.

Moiraine frowned. "That sort of mob violence, combined with a divided village, is not great, but not dire. When they grab weapons, that’s when you need to truly worry."

"But I probably won’t be here for then! I need to deal with it now."

"And how to do you plan on dealing with it, scales?" Lan asked, cool and calm. I glared at him, sure that he was amused by me by the twitch of his mouth.

"I am the Dragon Reborn, the terrifying man mothers warn their children about. I’ll scare Vasil and old Cenn with a little theater and then leave them with a threat for if they don’t stop."

Moiraine pursed her lips, but said nothing. Lan stared at me then shrugged. "You’re young. You’ll learn. Come, let us spar, Rand. I need to knock the rust off your blade, and we need to test the Elemental Blade more."

We walked to the clear-cut sparring circle by the house, passing my father as he worked the field, and Moiraine underhanded the Elemental Blade hilt to me. I caught it, seized saidin—feeling the life fill me, as sweet as the taint was rotten—and slotted a thread of Air into the ter’angreal, forming a long blue-white blade that rose silently. Facing Lan, for about an hour I worked on sword forms with Air, Water, Fire and Earth. By the end I felt more familiar with the weapon, and the weight each Element held when wielding it as a sword, and it was nice to work through the sword forms again. Following that we had a half hour of sparring, as I learned to manage the durability of the Elements.

Next was trying the other angreal. I had felt the connection I had to the tiger all morning, sitting in Moiraine’s pouch. What she had me test next, though, was the statue of the monk. I held it, as I channeled the One Power, and felt a surge in the amount of saidin I could safely hold. In the sky I wrote ‘RAND ALTHOR’ in massive Airwalls, the yellow Air invisible to any but other male channelers. It seemed more fluid, more responsive, a little more powerful, but I did not notice any huge differences between using Air and using other Elements, as I wrote words with Fire and Water as well, those far more visible. I wondered if the neighbors could see and chuckled to myself.

Then she brought out the tiger, and I could feel it, almost, like if I tried just right I could reach out without touching it, simply from seeing it. I think she noticed me eyeing it, before I could see it. In my hands it felt warm, almost alive, and the depths of saidin I pulled from it filled me till I was near bursting full of life and power; the cold in my bones burning me, the heat in my veins freezing me, the sweet nectar of the heavens filling my soul with light. In towering flame I drew a heart, filling it first with my name, and Egwene, Moiraine and finally Min. Lan snorted, but Moiraine gave me an amused smile and a kiss on the lips, so I considered it a win. Then I deftly twisted the flame into different shapes and colors, abstract designs, and strange curlicues of flame filling the sky above us in a hallucinatory dance.

"I like this one," I called out in the first couple minutes, as I wove fifty different flows without dropping a sweat or feeling the slightest limit. "Can I keep it?"

Moiraine nodded. "I had intended for at least one angreal for you. If you wish to keep the tiger angreal, I have no issue."

"I’ll make myself the owner of the angreal, as well," I said, as I frowned in concentration and made like I was weaving threads. After a few seconds, I smiled and stopped. "I can feel it. Like a spot of warmth."

"Then it is similar to mine," Moiraine said with a secret smile. "I always seem to know where mine is, when it is nearby. You'll find with time, you may even channel through it without holding it, if it is close enough. Fascinating, is it not?"

"Brilliant, more like it. I must find a belt pouch I can hold it in, so I am never without an angreal," I said excitedly.

She sat down, settling her dress around her and offering her lap, which I took eagerly. For the next two hours I lay with my head between her thighs, drawing shapes in the sky with Fire, Air and Water, the warmth and life of saidin nigh overflowing. I was blissful and content, following the quiet instructions of my wife. Alas it was not to be.

As I walked down the road into Emond’s Field, the whispers grew and the sounds of the day died, as people recognized me. The men mostly hurried away, or dropped their eyes, or seemed to ignore I existed but became angrier, and most women gave me nervous smiles and rough curtsies I acknowledged with a smile and a bow back that sent some, young and old, blushing. It seemed a long, lonely way to the Winespring Inn and a wave of silence erupted from my entrance into the common room. Some sailors sneered, others brightened at the sight of me. And the villagers, the village men paled; in fear or surprise, or both, while women gave me unsteady smiles and nods of the head. Whispers piled up like snowdrifts that I forcibly ignored, as I made my way to Perrin and Mat’s table, who sat with some village boys I did not recognize.

Perrin put on a rough smile as I sat across from him and a lanky boy with light brown hair who eyed me like I was a wild bear. "Rand, what are you doing here?" Perrin asked, leadingly. He said it loudly, even in the deathly quiet that had entered the room. It made my skin crawl, the eyes on me, but I ignored them. This was my home, my village, my inn. I would not let them chase me from it.

"I thought I’d have a cider, and see how my home away from home is faring," I said with a broad smile. It didn’t seem to ease the tension, so I continued. "I heard some folks were causing trouble." That caused the sneers to fade, turning worried. A group of sailors stood up and left, followed by two village men.

"That’s what I’ve heard. People scrawling the Dragon’s Fang on good people’s homes, like rats in the night. Sometimes even with torches, like a mob!" Mat replied as the men exited. "Not right, that is. Not right at all. To think Emond's Field has come to this…"

Marin al’Vere set a mug of cider down in front of me, then slid beside me at the table. "It is good to see your face, Rand. I wasn’t sure if you would show," she said, patting my arm in a matronly way. Speaking louder, "And it is not right, what the Coplin’s and the Congar’s"—Gasps filled the common room as she named the perpetrators. Another man slammed his drink down and got up to leave—"hope to gain from doing such a thing. Marking the Dragon Fang on someone's home for simply speaking the truth. It is a crying shame, what Emond’s Field has come to in the last few days."

The man who stood to leave turned to Marin, visibly upset. "The truth? The truth, poured into your ear like poison from the lips of an Aes Sedai? That a village boy I’ve seen grow up is the bloody Dragon Reborn? No. It is a mad world, where that is the truth." Then he spat, stomped out and slammed the door, leaving quiet muttering behind.

"It is a mad world we live in," I called out after him, my stomach sour. The sooner people realize that, the better. I wondered if he was a Coplin or Congar.

"It would help if you would speak to folks, tell them the truth," Marin said quietly, leaning close. "It’s hard for folks to believe. Believe you are him, and believe you could do good. You look half a stranger now, with your long hair and your fine clothes. But once they see you do good, they’ll believe. Once you tell them what you told us, they’ll have to believe."

"I can do good. I will do good, Mistress al’Vere."

She nodded, and patted my back soothingly. "You will, dear. I know you will. Anyone who knows you, knows you have a kind heart and a solid head."

We spoke quietly for a few more minutes, as I was reintroduced to Lem Thane and Ban Crawe. Young men my age, though Lem father’s thought I was False and Ban's wasn't sure. They seemed worried about that fact until Mat started complaining about his Da, who also wouldn’t vote for me. Then they seemed to settle, and they spoke of old pranks and good times together, and I listened, enthralled, to tales about the old me.

Then Vasil Aranonvi showed up, with a flock of sailors, some returning from having grabbed their fellows. He was a Kandori man, a blond-haired string-bean of a man, wearing a vest that showed off wiry muscles and at his waist he wore a dagger with a bone hilt, worn ivory smooth. He stepped into the common room, heading for my table. "Have you reached Illian yet?" he asked straight out as he crossed the room.

I turned to face him. "No. But I heard you were causing trouble. Seems to go against what we agreed, telling these good folks I am an Aes Sedai plot, and a False Dragon."

"Can a man not speak his mind to his fellows in public, without being declared a troublemaker?" he asked, not looking the least bit put out. His men shared amused grins. That lit a fire in my belly. I scowled darkly as I stood out of my chair, and some men flinched.

"You’ve seen what I can do. If I am False, then would it not be safer to not gain my ire?"

"I never said you were false, I said I did not know if yet if you were true. That is what I told the old Village Council member. It is not my fault he took that to mean you were a False Dragon. I’m getting close to finding this insulting, Lord Drake. I may have to do something to rectify that." He wore a stupid grin, as if his mealy-mouthed words would be enough to save him.

I stared at him in disbelief. "What are you going to do, duel me?" I said, carelessly, and the man’s eyes sharpened, his grin turning into one of satisfaction.

"That is not a bad notion. A duel. If I win, you apologise for insulting me, and if I win, I keep my mouth shut about you. Would that not work?"

"Or how about you shut up, before I make sure Lan comes and visits you?"

"Lan is… here today?" Vasil asked, suddenly worried. The man knew who Lan was—al’Lan Mandragoran, the Last King of Malkier—and what he was capable of. He was a Borderlander, after all.

I nodded slowly. "And he can visit any day of the week, if he needs to. So how about we quit this haggling, and you keep your sailors in line. No more False Dragon, or Aes Sedai plot nonsense. You apologize publicly, and name your words as lies borne of, oh I don't know, jealousy? Vanity? Pride?"

"A duel." Vasil replied, more determined. "I’ll stop if you duel me properly and win."

I sighed, resignation building. "With what?"

"Our fists. Rough and tumble like the country boys we both are, though lord you claim to be. We'll see the better man."

I threw up my arms. "Fine, fine. If it takes fisticuffs for you to be reasonable, then let us have at it." I stood up and got in the Kandori man’s face. He was a few inches shorter than me, and far skinnier, and took a few steps back, before steeling his spine. I did not have nearly a broad a chest as Perrin, nor was I as muscled, but my month and a half of continuous exercise made my form intimidating enough with my height.

Marin just groaned. "Light save us poor women from foolish men. Must you?"

"I believe we must, unfortunately," I said with regret.

"If you must do this, do it out in the stableyard, around the Inn. We don’t need everyone to see you beat this poor man, Rand."

Vasil gave her a grin. "So certain of your young lord, are you?"

Marin rolled her eyes. "He is no lord. Only a fool would think so. He is Rand al’Thor, the foolish son of a fool. But he will put you in the ground, regardless." A look crossed the Kandori man’s face, a frown, before it disappeared.

And with that we left the common room, sailors and young men following us, including Lem and Ban, good and not-so-good-naturedly teasing and ribbing each other. As we made our way to the stableyard, it seemed like everyone took this ‘duel’ as an amusement, rather than a serious fight between two men. Only Vasil and I were stiff, as the men surrounded us. A sea of unfamiliar faces swam in my view, making me oddly nervous, so I focused instead on my opponent.

Mat called for bets, and Perrin kept the sailors and villagefolk orderly, as more came by to see what we were up to. For a few minutes we waited, the first mate and I staring at each other, and he wore that stupid grin that made me want to punch his lights out.

After the bets died down, Vasil nodded to me, and made a shallow bow I returned, just as shallow. "And it starts," Vasil said, before leaping forward to punch me straight in the stomach. He seemed to move in slow motion, and I easily dodged, before landing my own punch straight in his stomach, before moving past him as he bent at the waist, his face distorting in pain. I grappled him by twisting his arm behind his back and then pulled hard, sending the man spinning like a top. A neat kick at the knee, and his left leg buckled, which sent Vasil to the ground onto his back. I walked over and put a boot on the Kandori man’s chest, squeezing tight.

"And it ends." I said, a mere few seconds later, completely untouched. The crowd was silent, then the Emond Fielders started cheering, as Mat exchanged money with a half-dozen amateur gamblers.

Vasil let out a groan as he tried to get up and my boot pushed harder. "How do you move like that?"

"Did you forget I was a Warder?" I asked, incredulous and the man just groaned again, sinking into the ground. "Well, now you’ll remember. Next time if you cause trouble, it’s Lan you’re getting and he won’t stop at a single beatdown. He'll cut you down, without a hint of remorse."

"Again," he said doggedly. "You were too swift. It was not a real duel." I stepped harder on his chest, causing him to wheeze and something to creak in his chest. The cheering died down. Emond Fielders weren't used to much violence.

"Not again. You lost. I won. You and the men that follow you," I said loudly, looking around at the crowd that surrounded, "will no longer grossly speculate about my nature and encourage the spread of rumors that I am False and an Aes Sedai plot. Is that clear? I am the Dragon Reborn, and I will not tolerate disrespect from a sailor."

Vasil lifted his head and spat, saying, "Perhaps you are more a lord now, than country boy."

I stared down at him. Then I kicked his head, a solid thunk that knocked the man out. I looked to Lem and Ban who stared wide-eyed at me. "Tie him up. I'm taking him back with me, and dropping him off." They bowed unsteadily and moved to restrain him, one quickly grabbing a rope from the entrance of the stables, and within a minute, the Kandori man was bound hand and foot on the dirt, strung up like a pig.

After that little exchange, I decided to do some good, like Mistress al’Vere said—my mother-in-law, a little voice told me. Ignoring the crowd of astounded young men and worried sailors, I headed back inside to finish my cider.

"You won, of course," Marin said from where she sat, looking out the window at the crowd. "Now what?"

"He comes back with me. He’s too much trouble and needs to be put away. Can you store him somewhere safe?"

"I’ll have Tad and Hu tend to him, dear. You finish your cider, I need to start preparing for dinner."

"Thank you… Marin."

She smiled matronly, and ruffled my hair. "You're a good boy, Rand al'Thor. I knew there would be trouble with that man, ever since I laid my eyes on him. Thank you for dealing with him swiftly."

The raucous cheers of young men and sailors ended the silence of the common room, as they entered and saw me sitting sipping my cider. Marin moved swiftly out of the way, gliding back to her kitchen.

When I stepped back out onto the streets, I was making my way to the Wisdom’s, led by Perrin.

"Did you really need to win so quickly?" he asked once we were away from the inn, and the others who had been congratulating me, and nearly fawning over me. It was… odd. Nice, for a few moments, then honestly quite annoying. So I had beaten a man up at a speed only Warders could move at? Was it really such a sight?

People crossed the road to avoid me, when they noticed who I am, except for a brave few who proceeded to awkwardly smile with slight fear in their eyes, or a rough curtsy from some women. I returned each positive interaction, a smile for a smile and a bow for a curtsy. I guess that was the best I would get for now.

"And let that stupid man think he had any chance at all? Lan said it is always better to finish an opponent swiftly, smoothly and safely."

Perrin pondered that. "Perhaps the Warder is right. It just wasn’t very… entertaining, I suppose."

"Everyone still seemed to like it though?"

"Outside, the Emond Fielders said it was too fast, too quick a defeat. But then sailors told them you moved like a Warder, so they latched onto that and changed their minds, deciding fast was good. I just worry the sailors who were with him will keep causing trouble."

"I worry too. Hopefully without the backing of an officer of the ship, they will keep their mouths shut."

Then we were at the Wisdom's home, a large house with fine thatch and room for injured and the non-contagious. The temporary Wisdom, Marva Mallen, answered the knock with a wary look, her frown deepening when she saw me. "And what brings you to my door, Lord Dragon? Looking for your sign?" she drawled, as she stood in the open door.

Color touched my cheeks. "I am sorry for the trouble I’ve caused. Hopefully the sailors will stop now that I beat the stupid first mate, but I thought that I could help out and Heal any who wish it, as a good deed, and to show I'm not dangerous."

She did not let us in, sliding outside, and shutting the door behind her. "And you think any of these folks will let you touch them? Even the ones who believe you are what you are?"

That had been what I was afraid of. "I can only try. If Healing is not an option, perhaps I could put on a show for the children, something like fireworks?"

She barked a laugh. "You think that will soften them to you? Fire in the sky?" she asked, exasperated.

"If the children like it, maybe…" I trailed off, embarrassed at my silly idea.

"If they let their children near you, you well-intentioned fool!" She sighed, considering me. "Come inside. I’ll see if my two patients want any of this Healing of yours, and then we can make a few house calls."

We followed her through the hallways to a back room with seats and benches, herbs dangling from the high ceiling.

A man lay across a padded bench with his right pant leg cut open to reveal a swollen knee covered in a poultice and half-wrapped in bandages. The other patient was an older women, with long, graying braid, who blanched, then smiled tremulously at the sight of me, before she stared fixedly at the Wisdom.

"Rand here has offered to Heal you two of your afflictions, Mistress Barran, Master Marwin."

Silence filled the room.

"I have seen him heal soldiers and sailors near death, wounded grievously. He can do this, I trust him," Perrin announced, intercepting any objections.

The man looked conflicted, but the woman asked, "How… how does it work?"

"I will briefly lay hands on you, and Heal you with the One Power. It will feel like a dip in an ice-cold bath, but for an instant, and you will be Healed. It takes something out of you, as well as me, so you may feel hungrier than normal, and tired afterwards, so be sure to eat and rest. Do I have your permission?" I asked, looking directly at Mistress Barran.

Mistress Barran now looked conflicted as well. The room was silent for near half a minute, Master Marwin growing agitated before the woman spoke. "You are the Dragon Reborn," she stated, but held a questioning gaze. The man sneered at that, not looking at anything particular.

I nodded. "I am the Dragon Reborn, I am Rand al'Thor, and I want to Heal you."

With a deep, shuddering breath, the woman nodded. "Okay. Okay. Heal me."

"For Light’s sake, Heal me as well!" cried the man. "This poultice burns, and I care not one whit who you bloody are. Why couldn’t you have asked me first?"

With a sigh, I turned to the man, who suddenly flinched, before stubbornness kicked in and he scowled at me. I stepped closer and bent over him, placing a hand on his head and the knee. Seizing saidin, I wove Spirit, Water and Air into a dense net that sunk into the knee and throughout his body and for a moment I could sense the aches and pains, the swollen knee, the old injuries and scars, the half-gone liver and the stomach ulcers. And I Healed what I could, pouring the One Power into the man. Then the sense of his body was gone, and bandages loosened.

Tentatively, then with vigor, the man sat up and moved his right leg. Then he tried to stand. When it held his weight easily, he whooped, "And you said three months, Wisdom!" He turned and grinned at me. "Maybe the Women’s Circle is right after—" A slap across the head from the Wisdom ends that sentence.

As the two bickered, I turned to Mistress Barran. I gave her a questioning look, and she nodded, more sure than she had been. "Where does it hurt?" I ask, wanting to get as close to the injury as possible.

"My head has been aching something fierce, like white hot needles, and my memory has become poor in the last few weeks, and I have strange dreams."

I lay both hands on her head, and wove the same Healing net, focusing on her head. Inside her skull I sensed an evergrowing mass pressing on her brain and I knew instinctually this was the source of her problem. Yet when the weave passed through it, nothing Healed, nothing changed. Aches and pains, older injuries, those were wiped away as much as they could be, but the malignant mass in her head could not be Healed. Would not be Healed. I was stunned.

I stepped back, lost for a moment. "I’m sorry, Mistress Barran… I could not Heal your problem." I turned to the Wisdom. "But I know what the issue is, the weave lets me know. I just… I just don’t know how you would fix it. I… I could try using Fire instead of Air? Perhaps that would burn out the mass? I just don’t know."

"Rand, what is the problem?" the Wisdom asked, trying to get me back on track.

"She has a mass of flesh in her skull, pressing on her brain and growing." Frustration filled my voice. "I’m certain it's the problem, but I couldn’t bloody Heal it!" It was the first time I had truly found something the weave wouldn't wipe away clean like a warm, damp cloth.

The Wisdom looked dour. "Ah." She turned to the woman, who looked worriedly between us. "Rand, Perrin, Master Marwin, please leave us. I need to have a private conversation with Mistress Barran. Wait outside for me, Rand, and we will make house calls when I am finished."

I walked with Perrin out through the hallways and to the door, swiftly followed by a happy-looking Marwin.

"Truly a miracle, your Healing is! I was going to be put up all tabac season until you came along. Thank you, young Rand, thank you," Marwin said enthusiastically, when we were out on the front porch of the Wisdom’s residence. "Perhaps the women are right, and there is something about you that’s good and Light-fearing. A shame you couldn’t help the poor woman though." And with that he promptly walked off without waiting for a reply, confidently striding down the street with a bandage dangling half-attached to his cut pant leg. I stared after him, frustration curdling into resignation.

I sighed. "At least I Healed one of them."

"The ruder one," Perrin muttered.

I nodded and sighed heavily once more. Why could I heal that women? What was it about that strange mass that I could not touch?

"Can you really turn into a monster?" asked a small voice, and I glanced down to see a small girl on the porch with us, of eight or nine, with dark curls staring up with curiosity. "The sailors said you turn into a monster. But other sailors said you turn into a prince! I think a monster is neater. Monsters can fight the Trollocs. They're big and nasty. I saw one."

I crouched down and pulled on my so’shan, time stretching like molten glass as my body changed around me, before snapping into place. "Does this look scary to you?" I asked the girl, and she stared wide-eyed at me, with my red-gold hair cascading down my back, and the accouterments of a dragon.

"Pretty…" she mumbled, starry-eyed, before she flushed with embarrassment, and became decidedly more nervous. "Um, I would say you look a p-prince, more than a monster, I think. Does that mean you’re the Dragon Reborn, like mama said?"

At that moment, a short, stout woman with her wavy brown hair in a long braid came running up, voice loud. "Lisbet, what have I told you about running off, when I am…" Her voice trailed off as she stared at me wide-eyed. "L-lord Dragon. It is Lord Dragon, is it not?" she asked worriedly, before shaking her head. "I apologize for my youngest bothering you." She grabbed a hand of the girl tightly and the girl began to complain before a hiss stopped her.

I gave her a smile, which caused her to flinch. Ah, sharp teeth. Closed-mouth smiles only. I adjusted my smile. "She is not bothering me in the slightest, she just wanted to know more about me. And I am not Lord Dragon in the Two Rivers. I am Rand al’Thor. I am not a real lord, only an honorary one in Shienar. It’s silly, really. Me, a lord?" I laughed.

The woman laughed nervously with me, and the girl giggled. "A few months gone, and you’re an honorary lord in Shienar. Light, what an adventure you must have had, running off with the Aes Sedai like that. I couldn’t even imagine."

"You do not know the half of it. And yes, little girl, I am the Dragon Reborn, like your mama said."

The girl spoke up. "Mama used to say you was gonna to break the world like a bad man, but now she says you’re gonna save it. Which one are you gonna do?"

The woman blanched, and made to speak but I held up a hand. "There is nothing wrong with her words, Mistress. Truly, you don’t need to treat me like I’m some lord from a tale. I have no power or authority here. Here, I am just Rand."

"Yes, L- Rand," the woman said, reluctantly. "Please do not take offense at her words."

I frowned and said, "I would never," before smoothing my face to seriousness and turning to the young girl. "I am going to do both. Sometimes, you save someone, you have to break things."

"But breaking things is bad. Mama and Da say so and I get in trouble when I do it," the girl instantly replied, full of assuredness, eyes bright and wide.

"I will no doubt get in trouble for breaking things from many Mama’s and Da’s," I said, amused. "But if I can save people, then that makes it okay in my book."

"I think you should just save people," the girl said, stubbornly. "Breaking is bad. That's what the Kinslayer did. He’s a bad man. I don’t think a boy as pretty as you can be a bad man."

Unfortunately, child, I am the Kinslayer reborn.

I grimaced, and the mother noticed and intervened. "We’ve taken up much of your time, Rand, and I have a stew to attend to. Thank you for indulging my daughter." And just like that, before I could say any more, they were moving again, the girl protesting as her mother dragged her away. As I stood up I realized a crowd had gathered to listen, mostly women with some young children and teenagers. Men in the street took a wide berth around the crowd, but for Master Cauthon, who stood with Eldrin, listening.

"Can you make green fire? I heard you can make fire!" a young boy with curly brown hair shouted, maybe six years old.

An older girl that had bright amber eyes called out, "No, purple fire!" and another shouted "Blue!"

I sat down on the steps, as brave village wives let their children gather closer around me, their hands gripping their children’s shoulder tight. But they were giving me a chance. I would have to make the most of it.

"I can make fire, heatless flames of all kinds of color. Would you like to see?" The children nodded.

With a flourish I held out my hands, and two heatless flames appeared, viridescent and violet, then a third appeared to float in the air, cerulean. Everyone startled, but the children bounced back the quickest, the young boy who asked for green fire staring wide-eyed and reaching, held back by his mother. The older girl was similarly staring, but simply watching the purple flame. Other children were just as enthused, and even the teenagers seemed impressed by the floating flames that flickered above my hands. But I needed to do more. I had an idea. I reached for my angreal.

Minutes later the flames were shapes, taking my training to the limit to act out scenes from gleeman stories in flaming play. Perrin took up the role of the narrator, while the young boy’s mother played the feminine parts she knew, and improvising others, as her son sat in my lap watching entranced at the dancing flames. There were a couple issues with the tightening of the flames into stick figures, brightness issues that resolved when I made them with less powerful threads, but overall the impromptu performance went well, Perrin able to keep up with the changes the mother introduced to the story. A few women had left, as had some of the teenagers, only to bring more people back with them, including men. Including the Mayor, who watched with awe at the wonder I worked, and Cenn Buie, who glared at me with a hateful, sour gaze, affronted that I was even showing my face.

I stared right back at him, while a blue and gold Artur Hawkwings wielded his shining silver-flame greatsword, Justice, against the black-flamed False Dragon Guaire Amalasan. Maybe a bit on the nose for a story, given who I am, but it was one the mother knew, and played the part of the Amyrlin Seat well enough for a countrywoman. As the tale finished, and the False Dragon was gentled, I never broke eye contact. Cenn spat.

Children cheered wildly, and even the teenagers whooped and hollered, having seen something that probably has not been done in thousands of years. When would an Aes Sedai have deigned to make moving images for children, when they could be closed off in their Tower? It felt good, to make images with fire, telling stories in the air. It felt good to be so creative. So pleased was I, that I did not notice the Wisdom had stepped out until she put a hand on my shoulder, holding me from standing up.

"Well now, are we having an impromptu party outside the Wisdom’s home? Why was I not invited?" Suddenly I became nervous, as did much of the crowd, hearing those stern words. I had not exactly asked permission. Marva seemed to notice and relaxed her grip, adopting a wicked grin. "How about we hear a tale of one of our own? Of how you learned you were Dragon Reborn, Rand. That is certainly a tale worth telling." Her words send a shockwave through the crowd, mutters and small arguments between men and women, husbands and wives. Before it could grow, I cut through it all with a loud whistle. Everyone turned to look at me.

"It is not a happy tale, nor a sad one. It is a strange tale, and in truth, a terrifying one, not for children’s ears. Those who wish to hear it, can find me in the common room after I finish Healing with the Wisdom," I projected, maneuvering myself out of having to tell children that yes, the Forsaken were actually real. Her hand squeezed tighter once more, and she smiled dangerously at me.

I grinned back, baring my sharp so’shan teeth, which caused her to flinch and release me. Didn’t feel like much of a win. Soon I was saying goodbyes to people who remembered me, but I did not know the name of. Smile and nod, Rand, just smile and nod. The crowd disappeared, mothers dragging children off, Master Cauthon staring at me strangely, as his daughter forced him away, men in small knots staring and muttering darkly.

"You’re not touching another body of this village, you Aes Sedai besotted fool. Over my dead body." Cenn Buie’s voice rang loud as he stood in front of me, blocking my way. People stopped and turned to stare.

"Cenn," warned Master al’Vere. "Now is not the time and the place."

"If not now, then when!" he shouted, turning to the Mayor. "When he has worked his dark magics on us, seduced our women, and stolen our children, the girls sent to the White Tower, the boys made his soldiers?"

I was in shock. That was what Cenn Buie thought was going on? Light, what was going on in his head? Was he touched?

"I don’t even know where to begin… What dark magics? Why would I seduce your women, I’ve got a perfectly good wives in—" I stop myself, before accidentally revealing Egwene’s marriage to me. "And honestly, perhaps more girls should be tested for the One Power and trained, but I had never had the thought before you brought it up. And Light forbid I am ever desperate enough that I need Two River’s men fighting for me."

"You are a False Dragon, lies spill from your mouth like wine from a drunkard’s! Yet you admit it, you are married to multiple women, in defiance of all tradition and propriety, just as Vasil claims. Truth, like all his claims. Bound to the White Tower, you are. I name you philanderer, liar, and thief, Rand al’Thor. Thief of reason, turning the village into a madhouse, pitching women against their men!" Spittle flew from his lips, his face a rictus of hate.

Okay, now I was upset. "The only people turning this village into a madhouse are you and the first mate! I knew you’d be trouble, but leading men to my father’s home? Calling me philanderer, liar and thief right in the street, in front of the village? In Fal Dara I could have dueled you for such insults and cut you down where you stand." My voice was cold and low, tongues of rainbow flame trickling from my mouth. Those who watched stood back as I considered dousing the crotchety old man in dragonfire, just to see if he was a Darkfriend or not. He took a step back, then another, a look of fright on his face, the hand that held his walking staff shaking. I took a step forward, my hand resting casually on my hilt as I looked down on him as if he were an insect. "Quit bothering my father, quit bothering those who believe in me, and I will let everything go. Continue, and perhaps there will be a fire. Perhaps lightning. Or a windstorm. Maybe even a freak flood. Something will come, and your home will be ruined. That I can promise you." Then I turned to face the Wisdom. "Let us go Heal. I am done with this fool."

I did not bother to listen to the words that came out of that fool old man’s mouth, the hollow apologies and declarations. We moved swiftly through the village; the Wisdom looking at me occasionally, but not saying a thing. Two-thirds of the homes eventually agreed to let me Heal, and people stood up without racking coughs, broken limbs, or raging fevers. The other third merely eyed me as if I were a bear in their living room, while I watched the Wisdom ply her trade the usual way. All in all, it took around an hour and a half, mostly do to the convincing.

"I wonder, did you need to threaten him so?" she finally asked, after the last home. "And did you mean it?"

"If he keeps leading mobs to my father’s home, then yes. I don’t care if he doesn’t believe me, but this Dragon’s Fang stuff needs to stop. It’s dangerous. Someone is going to get hurt or die."

The Wisdom muttered something about hairy chests and brains and left the topic at that, as we walked back to the inn.

Inside it seemed much of the village had shown up. Every table sat packed and people lined the walls, young and old, male and female, believers and not. Even the sailors were there, standing in two knots on the back wall. Mat waved from where he sat beside his Da, who stared pointedly. I stopped, startled at the sight, before taking a moment to close my eyes and breathe. Then I opened them back up and set a smile on my face, waving back at Mat.

"I did not expect so many would turn out to hear my tale!" I said, adopting a cheerful tone as I approached the front of the room. "And I am glad to see there are no young children here, for this is not a tale for their ears," I said, as I pointedly looked at a mother with two young boys, maybe seven and nine. She blushed and gathered the boys, who complained vociferously, much to the amusement of others.

As they left, I began my tale, taking the chair that sat in the center of the room, alone. "Two months after we left the Two Rivers, we raced through the Blight atop our horses, dodging violent and powerful tree limbs that swung down at us with intent to snare and entrap, for even the plants of the Blight hunts flesh. The air was fetid, and dank, filled with the sweet scent of decay." A simple red horse with a rider appeared in the air, while brown and green flames twitched and tore at them, only to be met with the silver flame of the rider’s sword. And so I told them of the desperate ride, the battle with Aginor and Balthamel, the death of the Green Man, and my supposed moment of shapechanging, as I killed a Forsaken, all played out on the flames. The revelation of the Forsaken walking Creation sent a roil of fear and despair through the crowd, only dispelled by their deaths.

Then there was the battle with Ba’alzamon, the revelation of a greater shadow existing beyond the supposed Dark One, my near death and awakening memory-less in the ashes of Aginor. His defeat, not death, brought fear back. The empty void I hung in and the Iridescent Flame. Their revelations and the faulty memory given to me. Learning that I was the Dragon Reborn, that Ba’alzamon was merely a mad Forsaken, that I should have channeled more, that I would be King of Illian, and seek Toman Head, or suffer the cruel tides of fate. People grew incredulous, fearful, obstinate, and questioning. Just one thing was missing; the Foretelling. I didn’t wish to ruin any goodwill I’d gained Healing and telling the tale, with the reveal of my… harem.

The room was silent for a moment, then the questions came pouring in. I wound up spending another hour simply reassuring folks of my intentions, and their safety, as the reveal of the Forsaken loose upon the world, for true, was frightening to say the least. Add in the Dragon Reborn walks the earth and Tarmon Gai’don, the Last Battle, looms, and you have a recipe for a terrified people looking for answers. I gave them the best ones I could, telling of the battles I had fought and sailors attesting to the destruction I did to the Shadow, and promising I would defend the Two Rivers with my life.

So, despite my wishes, after that hour was finished and they still wanted to know more, to be assured, I felt I had to tell them about the Foretelling gifted to me by the Iridescent Flame. Surely they will calm once they knew an Age of Light is soon upon us? I thought.

"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." As I spoke, the words scrawled themselves into the air above my head in a soft white light; my manipulations of the Torchlight weave having become fine enough by far to write legibly and visibly for dozens.

"I am, for lack of a better word, bound and married to three women, and when I bind and marry the sixth, I will have the power foretold, to bring forth an Age of Light." My words, invariably, cause an eruption of whispers and stares and outright gasps. Master and Mistress al’Vere look suspiciously at me. I ignore the crawling worry about not having told them yet. "Darkness, danger, and death lie before us, but so does great change and a great Light, shining like a beacon in the future. When I fulfill my duty, imbued with the sacred Light given to me by the Creator, when I defeat the Dark One, there will be no Breaking. No Time of Madness. No Forsaken, or Darkfriend or shadowspawn to walk Creation and ruin good folks like yourselves. I will end them all. This I swear, on the Light and my hope of salvation and rebirth."

The room was quiet, people staring at the words above my head, trying to work them into their understanding of the situation. But I could see the wave of people believing, wanting to believe. A cheer erupted from Mat, and surprisingly caught on, filling the room. "al’Thor! The Dragon!" they chanted for a long minute before it died down, even the knot of disbelieving sailors getting caught up in the mood. And then, of course, the Emond Fielder’s wanted to know who the lucky, or unlucky depending on your viewpoint, women were, but I denied them the answer firmly, insisting I needed to return to the farm shortly.

Marin and Bran cornered me away from others after I finished, while the room devolved into knots of discussion and argument over my words and the tale I told, the Foretelling hanging in the air, tied off.

"Egwene is one of them, is she not?" Marin al’Vere asked plainly. Spots of color appeared on Bran’s cheeks. I wished my father was there to calm them down. Light, I could only tell the truth, now.

I nodded. "Yes, she is my first wife. She was bound to my heart the night after I woke up without memories, and I was bound to her heart in return three days later. I wish she could be here to speak with you, but she is in the White Tower, training. Some day she will return though, and we will explain everything."

"She is not your wife until you two get your behinds back down here and meet before the Women’s Circle," Marin said promptly, a fierce look in her eyes. "I will not have my youngest eloping with the man she’s been betrothed to since they were little. It’s simply unnecessary. She is not your wife until you’ve done it right and proper, Rand al’Thor. Right and proper and in plain view, not in the Borderlands, or the Blight, for Light's sake!"

"But, Mistress al’Vere! We are—"

"That is Mother, or Marin, or Mother-in-Law if you must, Rand."

Bran spoke next, his voice tight. "The Aes Sedai, and the young Baerlon woman, Min. They’re the other two, aren’t they? The sailors have been talking about your grand romance with the Aes Sedai. Quite a tale they tell. And you seemed… close with Min on Sunday. Suspiciously so." Realization dawned on his face. "You truly have three wives, like they said. Our girl wasn’t enough for you?" he almost growled.

I flinched at the accusation and his tone. "Not by choice. If I want to save the world, then she cannot be the only one. I am sorry that I have to put her through that, as she was the one I thought of most while I was stuck in that empty gray void with the Iridescent Flame. If it was my choice, she’d be the only wife I’d ever need. She really helped me out in that first week after, when I wasn’t entirely sure…" I trailed off, realizing I had not mentioned the fact the Iridescent Flame had stitched another soul into mine. Nor did I want to reveal that fact.

Marin seemed to get the gist of it, though and embraced me. "You are Rand al’Thor. No matter what the Wheel has in store for you, you are Rand al’Thor." I hugged her back fiercely, warmth filling my heart. Bran looked simply confused.

"I know, Marin. I know that, now."

"Good. When will you see Egwene next? We must get started on planning the wedding."

"There is a weave that will allow her to Travel home, but until she is powerful and trained enough, she cannot use it. If I could have, I would have brought her with me on Sunday. If she does visit, it will probably be the first day of the week."

"You have no timeframe at all?" she questioned.

"Probably before the end of next year? Moiraine said it was complicated, requiring dexterous flows. Egwene simply hasn’t been channeling long enough."

The disappointment was obvious on Marin's face and in her voice. "Next year? Next year?! Rand al’Thor, you better not expect me to wait that along. This whole… elopement scenario is completely unnecessary and an embarrassment for both our families. For two betrothed to run off and get married in the Borderlands of all places, Creator only knows what Egwene was thinking."

"She was thinking she loved me, and I loved her and that’s all we needed," I said with a dopey grin and Marin could not help the smile that twitched on her lips.

Bran spoke up again. "Why is Egwene not with you? Moiraine and Min are. Is our daughter not good enough to be by the Lord Dragon's side?" He really wants to fight me about this, does he not?

"She was required to go to the White Tower to learn, she could not apprentice at Moiraine’s side any longer. I wish she could have stayed, but the other Aes Sedai would have thrown a fit. Egwene and Nynaeve are the most powerful female channelers they’ve seen in a thousand years. The Tower won’t let them go until they’re good and ready, but I eagerly await the day she learns to Travel, so I may see her again."

"And what is this ‘Travel’ she needs to learn?" Marin asked, confused. Oh right, they don’t know.

"It’s like a black door in the air, and they step through," Bran answered quickly. "I saw Rand use it on the 14th."

"What Bran said," I added. "It—"

"I did not give you leave to use my name," Bran practically growled in a burst of anger, snapping like a dog. "You overstep yourself, boy."

"Oh stop it, you old hound. Call him Bran, Rand. You are family," Marin said sweetly, as she not-so-sweetly tugged at her husband’s ear. The man had the wherewithal looked abashed.

"I am sorry, Rand, Marin is right, you are family. It’s just I’m a little upset, since this is the FIRST TIME I’m hearing of any of this," Bran said, "and I would have liked to think you would have told me before implying you married my girl and two others to half the village." His voice flared only a little, and he appeared more calm.

"I… I was hoping Egwene would somehow learn to Travel quickly. A foolish hope. I did not want to tell you by myself, in case of a bad reaction. A cowardly mistake on my part, Master al’Vere and I apologize," I said, bowing deeply in apology.

The man sputtered and pulled me up, looking distinctly pink cheeked. "Rand, there’s no need for that formal nonsense. I explained why I was upset, and you explained your reasoning and apologized. Water under the bridge, no need for bowing. I’m sure you love my daughter. I was just… frustrated."

I nodded and moved to speak before a hush came over the room. I finally noticed that Moiraine had been getting closer and closer throughout the conversation, and now stood at the foyer of the inn, looking into the common room.

"It’s her!" came a gasp from someone.

"She’s a dragonwife," another whispered.

"I would marry her myself if it wasn’t for her bloody channeling…" the voice trailed off, muttering.

"An Aes Sedai and a shepherd get married. Sounds like the start of a raunchy joke," I heard someone whisper to their friend, who snorted.

Moiraine calmly walked into the common room, as the crowd parted like a water around a rock. "I hear my husband,"—Gasps of delight and shock pelted the air, practically visible—"has been speaking of his… experiences in the Blight, a tale worthy of song. And he told it well, did he not?" A cheer goes up. "A good tale deserves a good drink," she said, approaching us as the crowd cheered, especially the sailors. "Master al’Vere, would this purse be enough to buy everyone’s drinks for the evening?" The sound of silver clinked in the bag as she tossed it to Bran, making sure it lands in his hand with a second’s worth of saidar, barely long enough for me to even notice what she is doing before the Circle dissolved and I was holding the sweet life of saidin in my veins.

"Far too much, Moiraine Sedai, far far too much. I cannot accept this. Bran shook his wispy-haired head.

"Consider it payment for your… troubles with certain village folk and the first mate. My Warder and I had a stern talking to with that gnarled old root of a man, Cenn Buie, but I believe he shall be quite polite from now on. I have heard tell that Rand beat the first mate in a bout of fisticuffs, and bound him hand and foot. Is that true?"

"He’s currently sleeping off a kick to the head in the hayloft of the stables," Marin said with grim amusement. "Your… husband humiliated him, from what I saw. And while it was not needed, thank you for speaking to the old fool. Perhaps it will even stick."

Moiraine smiled, without a hint of amusement. Pride filled her. "Oh, I do believe he will not be a problem any longer. But unfortunately, it is time for us to go. We must return to our ships and continue downriver. We shall be back on the first of next month." She stood next to me, a delicate doll next to my brooding height.

I gave Marin a deep hug she returned, and Bran a handshake which he took somewhat reluctantly. Others wished to speak with me, of any and all matters, but Moiraine denied them all, keeping me moving for the exit. After we were in the stables, and I used saidin to grab and drag Vasil through the air, Moiraine sighed, and the smile she wore became more genuine.

"Let us hope your little… fire tale, does not escape the confines of the Two Rivers before it is too late. From what I heard from others as I approached, you put on quite the performance today. Between the fisticuffs, Healing, and the light shows for children, you did well, Rand, very well. Maybe shared overmuch, and not nearly theatrical enough with the duel, but you did well."

"The Healing felt good, as did the fire tales, as you call them. It felt good to use the One Power in a way that helps. But with the duel I just wanted it over with."

"Mmm. Perhaps we can go Healing one weekend a month in Illian. Tend to the poor and needy, show them you are a man of the people despite your kingship. Get the citizens behind you, so when you announce yourself as the Dragon Reborn, they remember who helped them. I think you would be good at it, if what the Wisdom told me was correct." Her voice was calm and collected, and pride suffused her.

"Or because it is the right thing to do, Moiraine," a little annoyed she had to turn everything political.

"Mmm."

"Every weekend. Not one weekend." I added.

"That will eat into two days a week except for the last week of each month, and there are better things you could be doing with your time, important as you are. The Lord Dragon does not have two days to spare," she said, with a cool, seemingly reasonable air, but caution and anticipation crept into the bond.

"Really? Helping the needy of Illian would be a scheduling difficulty? That’s the argument you wish to trot out? And we will simply do it on the seventh and eighth days of the last week of the month. No reason to skip a week simply because it only has eight days."

She felt proud once more, and a trill of vindication, and offered an apologetic smile. "I am simply offering what the lords and ladies of the Kingdom will tell you, when you began such a campaign. They will tell you that you are much too important, that it is a waste of time, that there could be more productive things to do. Some of them will even be unfortunately correct, given the Last Battle looming. That does not mean you should stop Healing though. There’s a kindness in you, a compassion, and I’d like to see it survive til the end. I think the world will need it."

Of course it was some kind of test! Light! But she felt proud of me, and that mood was infectious. I had done well today; Healed folk, I had mostly spoken the truth in my tale, and as long as Vasil wakes up fine, I didn’t even wind up hurting anyone too bad. Scaring an old man probably wasn’t the best, but he deserved it, the old coot. I was the Dragon Reborn, fixing my mistakes and doing good. I smiled to myself, as we continued in silence.

As soon as we were out of sight of anyone, Moiraine dragged me behind the treeline until we found a small clearing, before shucking her dress off, and undoing the buttons on my shirt as I stared in shock. She was wearing a pant’s tightening sheer silk shift I had never seen before, her breasts full and her nipples pointed and prominent, and cerulean blue tight silk undershorts.

"You are a brilliant, beautiful, silly man, Rand al’Thor. Telling tales to children. To children! I would have never thought of such a thing, and yet the Wisdom said—" I shut her up with a kiss and a grope of her healthy behind, feeling the soft silk beneath my fingers. She laughed into a moan before ending the kiss and dragging me into the middle of the clearing with a finger around a belt loop.

"You have these flashes of genius, Rand. I know you will be a good man on the throne. Telling tales to children!" She laughed a giddy laugh. "And I’ve missed our… alone time, Rand. With a third in our bed, it just is not… proper, to do everything. I meant to show this off to you far earlier in the day, but the blasted first mate and the village fools had to ruin it. So lay down, relax, and let Moiraine Sedai take care of everything, my dragon."

Amadaine 25th, 998 NE (July 3rd)

Lan and I still did stretches in the mornings, with the rising sun, but not else. I couldn’t find it in myself to go back to sleep after I woke up early, and Lan said it was good to keep the body limber. Plus it was relaxing, and passed the time, this boat trip far more boring than the last.

"I heard from Moiraine that you want to train other men in what you can do," Lan said suddenly one morning, in the quiet dawn as our bodies contorted. The boat creaked, and the sails shook with the last dregs of the overnight wind, conjured up by a working last night of three channelers in a Circle. The captain’s loved the swift travel we could guarantee with the Aes Sedai aboard each ship, as Verin was staying alone on the Red Racer. There was no one around us, no sailors to overhear. They left us alone, most often, finding our situation strange.

I bent a leg and reached out a hand, adopting a new pose. "I am considering it as necessary. Not any time soon though."

"Have you considered me?" Lan asked casually. I stopped my movement and stared at him, wide-eyed. Is he being serious?

"Are you trying to get me in trouble with Moiraine? Light, Lan," I stopped and laughed, hoping it was a joke. "Why would I consider you?"

"Keep moving, scales." I did, moving on to the next stretch. "I have a Power-wrought sword just like you, and if I could infuse it with the One Power, that would make me an even greater Warder. A peerless warrior."

"You really mean it?" He nodded, his icy blue eyes meeting mine. "And what of the madness, Lan?" I asked, astounded, arching my back and stretching an arm.

"What of the madness? The Last Battle looms, and I will only use it sparingly. The madness will not touch me for a year if not more, well after I am dead, or you have figured out a miraculous way of ridding saidin of the Taint."

I sighed. This was definitely going to be a conversation with Moiraine. And not a fun one.

"It’s not that easy, Lan, and you know it. I appreciate the offer, and part of me wants to take you up on it, but it’s not that easy."

Later that morning we three sat in my cabin, as Moiraine tried to wrap her head around the actions of her two Warders.

"You," she said, pointing at Lan, "want the young man you call ‘the scaley fool’ to teach you saidin, the male half of the One Power, so you can be better at swinging that sword around? What a fool notion." And then she pointed at me. "And you didn’t immediately say no? Why?"

"Because I’d rather have a volunteer. And it’d be honestly easier to train Lan than anyone else. Us going off is Warder training, not super secret channeling training. But I have to protest that I did not think it was a good idea, nor Lan’s reasons sound."

"Good, because there is no way I will pass on a bond with a madman to a barely trained Aes Sedai." The words were whip-quick from Moiraine's mouth.

Lan’s eyes widened, and he took a sharp breath. "You mean…?" Who are they talking about?

"If you are mad, I will not. She does not deserve that from you," Moiraine said softly, warmly and it hit Lan through the heart like a bull’s eye, sending him staggering.

Lan went rigid, his face frozen, his icy blue eyes searching Moiraine’s face for something important. He looked like a man given the first good news he’s heard in a long while. I felt out of place, like I was intruding on something.

Still, he questioned. "That… that is good. And if Rand finds a way to Heal or destroy the Taint, would you consider me a madman then?"

A ripple of emotion—fear, dismay, resignation, despair, anger, frustration, in a twisting kaleidoscope—went through Moiraine, before I watched her visibly control herself, forcing a smothering calm. "When we reach that point, I would not consider you a madman. But this is a fool notion. I will not have my Warder seeking a new death, al’Lan Mandragoran. I will not watch you die slowly, simply because you haven’t managed to find death in a personal war."

"I do not seek a new death, Moiraine Damodred," he said, sounding angry. "I seek a way to make my death more meaningful. And I know what I seek, more than you know. The royal family of Malkier and their guards were quite familiar with the signs of madness in men. We still remembered the truth, or so I was told by the man who raised me, that chinnar’veren could channel without the risk of madness. Each Mandragoran man that was born with the spark, as you would say, or the curse, was married and had a child as swiftly as possible, before being sent out into the Blight with their sword and their hope, to return as a chinnar’veren like the tales claimed. My uncle, the vainglorious fool that he was, was supposed to head out into the Blight alone. He instead took an army, confident he would survive and become a shapechanger, proving himself worthy of the throne. I was raised with the signs, voices and hallucinations, but also intrusive thoughts and strange habits, changed mood, irritability, absences and multiple personalities. All are signs of the insidiousness of the Taint and I will be most vigilant."

"You may not need to be," I blurted out.

Lan turned to me, an eyebrow raised, while Moiraine quietly seethed, her emotions twisting like a storm.

"I, uh…" I paused as Moiraine gave me a look, but continued. I needed to train someone, and Lan would be easiest, in all honesty. He was willing, came from a bloodline that apparently had active channelers, and it would not be difficult to go off and train with him. "I did have an idea. The Power Armor. Perhaps it would defend Lan from the Taint, like it does from physical threats. And if that doesn’t work, I could try to weave it with threads of the Flame Imperishable instead of Fire. Or Healing with the same."

"I have yet to see you even try working with the Flame like that before, except one time to toss it about like a gleeman. We will have to work on that if you two insist on this… this… this Light-blasted bloody flaming bulldung of a goat-kissing fool plan!" she shouted, before putting a hand to her mouth and looked very surprised. I couldn’t help my startled laughter.

That very night I started trying to weave the Flame Imperishable into a simple weave of torchlight, under Moiraine’s frigid stare.

Tamaz 1 - 6, 998 NE (July 7th - 12th)

The second time I visited the Two Rivers, before I did anything else, I first sat cross-legged facing Lan. The barest trickle of saidin lit a dancing flame in between us, as we sat within the fenced-in clearing. Moiraine sat some distance away, frowning, her displeasure obvious in the bond. Min was back with Verin Sedai aboard the Red Racer, learning Air and Water. "Do you have the ko’di, the Oneness?"

Lan nodded slowly, his eyes focused on the flame, as if it were a snake that would bite him.

"I want you to concentrate on the flame, as it pulses with my breath. Try to feel the flame. Beyond the flame is a light, that you can almost touch. And when you can, I want you to seize it."

The flame began to pulse, little flares of the One Power, and for long minutes we sat in silence, the only sound being the wind and songbirds amongst the trees and our steady breaths, syncing as one. After nearly seven minutes something changed, and I began to feel a resonance between us, a tiny echo of saidin coming from Lan. I held out for another minute, this resonance never disappearing and I released the weave with a hesitant smile.

"I definitely felt something in the end."

Moiraine sniffed, but we ignored her. Lan nodded. "I felt… something. Like a heat almost, or a light."

"Let’s try again," I said, more eagerly.

And so for an hour I channeled a flame, and Lan tried to resonate with it, focusing his mind on sensing the One Power. Each time he caught on as fast or a little faster, but he was not learning miraculously fast like I would, nor could he sense saidin without the flame, not even if I held myself full to the brim. This would be the work of a week or more, before Lan could even begin to try to channel by himself.

"I did not expect it to be so simple, and similar to learning saidar, but you are on to something, Rand. Perhaps such a technique would be better used on someone who isn’t my Warder?" came Moiraine's cool voice.

"Someone like who?" I asked questioningly.

"Oh, Mat or Perrin, or even one of the Shienarans. Just not Lan. Test training saidin on them, and not on the man that keeps me alive so I can keep you alive."

"So sacrifice a friend or a soldier, instead of the man who wants to learn?"

"He doesn’t want to learn, you fool! He wants a better way to die! That zealot Masema will do whatever you say, risk him, and not Lan. Not my Warder."

"Why bring this up now?" asked Lan, cooly ignoring the accusation. "You knew we were going to test this. You knew there was a chance this would happen."

"Because I hoped you would fail, of course," she said matter-of-factly. "Not succeed within ten minutes and then spend the next hour advancing as fast as Egwene. Now that I know it can succeed, and you could actually go mad, I want to shut it down until there is some modicum of safety from the Taint. I will not be bonded to a madman, al’Lan Mandragoran. I will not." She turned to me, calm held by the barest threads. "Test anyone else, Rand, any at all."

I stared at her, feeling her desperation, and the weight of shame sat heavy on my shoulders. It is not unreasonable for her to want her Warder safe, even if it interferes with my plans. I should have considered her more. But I still need to teach someone. "I won’t teach Lan any more until I am sure he can be protected. And I will ask Masema and his cronies if they want to learn. Might as well give them a reason to keep visiting me."

"Thank you," she said, sincerely. "Just… thank you. Lan will still require lessons since he has started learning to touch the True Source, but only lessons on how to seize saidin and nothing more. Same with the soldiers. I don’t want weaves in their hands until we are certain you can mitigate the Taint."

In the end the visit to Emond's Field was much calmer, as children and teenagers alike clamored for their favorite stories to be told, and no more trouble had been caused. The Village Council had finally recognized me as the Dragon Reborn, despite Jon Thane and Cenn Buie abstaining. And people spent much of their time reintroducing themselves and telling me stories about the old Rand. It was… nice. Relaxing. And did nothing to prepare me for I would do next.

I stood with the three soldiers in my cabin, after returning from Emond’s Field. Masema gave me a sick smile, while Koto flinched and Ichyo stood rigid.

"You want to test if we are like you? Men who can… men who can channel?" asked Masema, his tone sounding as frazzled as I had ever heard him.

"Yes, Moiraine Sedai gave me approval. And if you are, I am going to train you. I must train you."

"But, why us?" Koto spoke up, causing the other two to turn and glare at him.

"I’ll need good soldiers. And good soldiers can always use a better weapon. I know you are good soldiers, and untouched by the Shadow. For the sake of your sanity, I’ll be testing a weave that may very well defend your soul from the Taint of saidin. I will not let you go mad, not without some kind of protection, like the Creator blessed me with. Are any of you three willing? It is fine if you are not."

They shared glances for a long moment, then Masema nodded rigidly and the other two men slowly following his example.

"Then Masema, please join me on the floor, sitting cross-legged. Do you know the ko’di or the Flame and the Void?" He shook his head. "Then follow my instructions, as you gaze into the flame…"

In the end, only Ichyo, the tall Shienaran with a well-kept mustache, felt anything, and he felt it faster than Lan, starting to resonate only three minutes into the guided meditation. So it seemed my first student would still be a Borderlander, and I didn’t have to go and ask Perrin or Mat, thank the Light.

Each of the five nights afterwards, I spent an hour with Ichyo and Lan in my room, simply guiding them through seizing saidin, as each resonated and struggled to grasp the One Power. Moiraine and Min watched us, the first like a hawk, the second with a sick curiosity.

"You must seize it, take it into your control, and never let it go for a second. It is a wild animal to be tamed, forever pulling at its leash. Saidin is a river of flame, an endless crushing iceberg, and like diving into the Sun itself. If you cannot control it, you will die," I told him. "But you will control it. And when you control it, and hold saidin, you feel as full of life as you cannot even imagine, full of light and power. It is worth it even for the Taint." The final night I saw the barest thread of Fire reach out from Ichyo, and I let my flame die, only to replaced by a stuttering tongue of fire.

"That last one was yours," I told him, and he looked at me with a twisted mix of pride and fear.

The next morning we reached the city of Illian. Illian, born from the ruins of the city of Dorelle Caromon—of the nation of Eharon, during the Compact of the Ten Nations—sat on the only raised land for miles, surrounded by marshland. There were no walls needed to defend the city, with only the River Manatherendelle, the Sea of Storms, or the single causeway through the marshes, being the only way in or out of the city. The Illian Road was a raised causeway of humped dirt flattened smooth by a millennium of travel.

From far off the Ogier-built palaces and towers glinted white in the early morning sun, dwarfing the regular buildings of pale stone and roofs of a multitude color, black and red and blue and green and yellow, and half a dozen others. The white stones of the buildings flashed in the sun, as we pulled into the harbor early in the morning, the sun barely above the horizon, Lan and I pulled from our stretching by the sight. We were finally here. This was where I would make my destiny. Where I would become king.

Chapter Text

Tamaz 6, 998 NE (July 12th)

The docks were like the many branches of a great tree—starting thin and trailing at the top before blooming into dense foliage—lining the western shore of Illian. Over a hundred ships filled the water, large and small, swift and stout, square rigs and triangle sails, or with the spider legs of oars dancing in perfect motion. Tiny fishing skiffs and row boats darted amongst the shoals of ships, and more lay docked at the many wharves clawing into the water of the mouth of the river as it became a bay. I had never seen so many in my life and I stared in awe.

As we slowly headed south with a crowd of other ships—sailors calling out raucously to each other across the water—the docks grew, and with them came shipyards, the skeletal bones of half-made ships in drydock, covered in a swarm of men like ants, the sounds of industry ringing. And the docks themselves, filled with people and cargo, always moving, an intense web of commerce. Heading towards the heart of the docks, the streets came alive with a kaleidoscope of roofs, each hue blending seamlessly as people from all walks of life filled the sidewalks.

It was beyond what docks I had seen at Whitebridge, the same way Caemlyn was beyond Baerlon, and Baerlon beyond Emond’s Field. Light, I’m supposed to rule THIS? I was glad for the Oneness, then, the cool surety of a mind empty of thought but for the light of saidin, and simply took in the mosaic of industrious complexity, as the streets lining the docks changed, rather than breaking down from the sheer weight of shipping.

When we docked in the densest parts, the colorful streets were overwhelmed by massive undressed stone warehouses that loomed over everything. Occasionally, simple inns would emerge, trying to carve out a space amidst the overwhelming presence of the warehouses. Waiting at the edge of our dock, amongst the crowd and the mud—the reek of the docks was near unbearable now to my enhanced senses—was a fine carriage, with big delicate wheels, and gold trim, draped in the White Flame of Tar Valon, edged in blue. I turned to Moiraine, who gave me a proud smile, soft in the early morning light.

"Bear the stench a while longer. We will ride in style, my dear. This is an announcement; an Aes Sedai is entering the city. All will know before the day is out, an Aes Sedai is in Illian. The invitations will come pouring in from noble houses, and wealthy merchants and ship captains. We will have the lay of the land soon enough, and with me at your side, you shall navigate these waters well."

I nodded, saying nothing, finding solace in the Oneness as the city threatened to overwhelm me. What could I say? That this was so obviously a mistake? It was far too late for that.

Min spoke up from my other side, clutching my hand tight, as unfamiliar with the size of the city as I was. "I’m just glad we don’t have to brave that crowd."

The roads were already bustling with dockworkers, sailors, and travelers, even though it was early in the morning, dawn barely an hour ago. They all seemed eager to reach their destinations, yet they made sure to keep a safe distance from the carriage. Everyone knew the sign of the Aes Sedai and the White Tower, a sign that told them to be wary, watchful, and out of the way.

"The crowds shall part before us like the wake of a ship. They won't risk getting caught up with us," Moiraine murmured, pleased at the thought.

The carriage itself was as beautiful on the inside, with dark blue cushioned seats, and silver scrollwork, and a ceiling painted like the sky, complete with white puffy clouds. The windows were easily shuttered and Moiraine warded the interior. I still need to figure out how to do that, I idly mused. It was only myself and my wives inside, and soon enough we were off, the wheels clattering against cobblestone. Perrin and Mat and Lan got into a second carriage, this one unmarked, that followed us into the throng. There was no way Loial would be fitting inside, so he must be walking, like the soldiers and sailors. I closed the window shut, cutting the stench and noise.

"You will have to Travel outside the city to train, but that should be easy from within the Blue House. Illian is not as dangerous as other cities, but neither of you should ever leave the House without a guard and a weapon on you. I will not risk you to foolishness now that we are so close," Moiraine lectured. "Your friends will be getting much the same lecture from Lan. Be smart and be safe. Change where you train often, Rand. I won't have time to join you, soon enough."

"What is this Blue House we’re going to anyway?" Min asked curiously.

Moiraine smiled, a beautiful smile that lit up her face, and made me want to pull her into my lap and give her a kiss or three. "I’ve never been, but I have seen it before from afar. It is the official residence of the Blue Ajah, built by Ogier and Aes Sedai hands together. Truly it is a sight to see, and officially no sister of mine has resided in it for decades. It should be perfect for us to commandeer and make our own."

She then went on to describe the history of the building, and its survival of the Trolloc Wars and the War of the Hundred Years, unlike every other House of the Aes Sedai. The Green House was lost in the Trolloc Wars, somewhere in Aramelle, what was now Malkier. The Red House lay lost in the ruins of Shadar Logoth, the Brown House burnt with Manetheren in the fires Queen Eldrene called down, the Gray House and the Yellow House destroyed by Hawkwing's armies in the expansion of the Empire. The White House logically retreated all the way back to Tar Valon, abandoning their seat in Darmovan with the rise of Guiare Amalasan, the Second False Dragon. It was fascinating and sad what had been lost over the years, beyond the Breaking.

I was the first to notice it, the peculiar fluted spire of vibrant blue piercing the clear sky. As we slowly approached along bustling causeways, its grandeur magnified. Standing at a height of fourteen stories, it commanded attention, although half of its stature was occupied by a spire dotted with windows, the building as a whole resembling a teardrop, bulging out to a taper. The manor itself was a peculiar yet captivating sight, obviously of Ogier make, adorned with round gleaming white walls covered in carvings of plantlife and a roof of exquisite blue tiles.

Venturing inside, we were greeted by an enchanting interior garden nestled at the heart of the circular manor, rooms ringing the interior space, with large ramps leading up to each floor. Lush greenery abounded, with flowers and trees flourishing, their fragrant aroma permeating the air. A tranquil pond graced the scene, teeming with small, vibrant fish in hues of red and gold, blue and white, green and yellow. Sunlight bounced off polished mirrors, casting beams from various angles throughout the towering spire. It was stunningly beautiful inside. Min looked on in awe, beside me.

Moiraine gave me a satisfied look, like a cat that snagged a bird. "Did I not tell you?"

I gave a laugh. "Yes Moiraine, it is truly beautiful. A residence as beautiful as the Aes Sedai who will reside in it," I teased, causing the bond to flutter with affection, and bemusement.

It took hours for all the soldiers and sailors and luggage to arrive, crossing the various canals of the city, and the stable was soon filled with horses. We had to find a nearby inn to stable the last few Shienaran warhorses, and the innkeep was quite against it until he learned who exactly was asking.

There were two dozen bedrooms that lined the various floors, and a barrack for Warders—the sailors and soldiers bunking up—and I had none of them. Moiraine had decided to institute alternating days again—with her as the first night of course, so tonight I would be sleeping with her—though my clothes would be ‘simply kept in Moiraine’s room’ so the lascivious witch could watch me dress. I swear you could call her Turquoise, not Blue, I thought.

The garden was a tranquil haven, adorned with vibrant flowers and lush greenery. The soft breeze whispered through the leaves, creating a soothing melody. As I reclined on a comfortable lounge chair, I immersed myself in the pages of a captivating book about the rise and fall of the House Oshaar, losing track of time. The sound of birds chirping and the distant hum of busy bees added to the serenity of the moment. Servants hurriedly moved about, tending to their tasks with efficiency and grace, outside the garden. Soon, the presence of Loial and Perrin added a warm companionship to the peaceful afternoon.

"To think that we are going to be sleeping in history!" Loial loudly proclaimed at one point. "I can hardly wait, as well, for there are multiple Ogier rooms. I will get to try them all, I will."

Perrin and I looked at each other, and burst out laughing. The Ogier looked nonplussed, which only made us laugh harder.

"You looked so excited, Loial," I explained.

"Of course I am excited. I finally have more options than the single Ogier bed most establishments have, if they have an Ogier bed at all!"

Well, you cannot deny him that. He normally does not have much choice in the matter.

Even Min joined us with her own book, eventually, having gotten out of yet another training session with Moiraine. The chair sat wide enough to fit the two of us together, if quite tightly; an arm encircled her waist, and she rested her head on my shoulder. It was a simple time, relaxing, as we read passages aloud that caught our eye, and drank the watered down wine the servants brought out, our cheeks growing pink.

That evening we had a dinner of fresh seafood, baked whitefish and clams, with a salad of unfamiliar greens, bright and herbaceous, toss in olive oil. It was delicious and filling. As the deserts were passed out—little pastries drizzled in a raspberry syrup—there was a loud knocking on the front door, heard even in the semi-formal dining room on the far side of the garden. The interior wall was simply missing from this dining room, letting diners look upon the splendor of the Blue House's garden as they ate. Minutes later a servant in black and blue livery led in a messenger in green and gold, bearing the sigil of three silver leopards on his breast—the King's sigil—through the garden to us, and stopped before our table.

"I bear a message of from the King of Illian, Anointed by the Light, Lion of Coast, Defender of the Sea of Storms, King Mattin Stepanos der Belgar, for you, Moiraine Sedai, Sister of the Blue Ajah."

Moiraine stood and walked daintily over to the man, taking the scroll from his hands before examining it. Curiosity and delight sparkled in the bond, and she turned to Rand, bearing a polite smile, belaying the excitement in her eyes and bond. "It appears I have been invited to meet with King tomorrow. Quite a bit faster than I expected." My stomach dropped. She turned to the messenger. "Please tell the King I accept, and will be happy to meet with him tomorrow, after the ninth hour."

The messenger nodded and departed quickly.

Tomorrow?! I thought we’d have more time to prepare! This wasn't enough time. I wasn't nearly ready to take over a kingdom. The pastries should have been delightful. They were buttery and flaky, with the raspberry syrup adding a fruity tang, but I couldn't taste anything but ashes. I just thought I'd have more time.

Min grasped my hand. "It will be fine, Rand. Moiraine will guide you, and everything will be fine."

I took a deep breath and held it, then let it out. I nodded and repeated what she said. "Moiraine will guide me, and everything will be fine." I had to believe it so, otherwise everything would fall apart. With Moiraine by my side, I could do this. The shepherd could become the king. I just had to believe.

After dinner Lan, sensing my mood, had us take a Door to the bluff that stood overlooking the river three days back, and in the long dying light of a summer's evening first we walked through sword forms, and did some stretching, then we sparred.

I was one with my training blade, one with the ground beneath my feet, and the air that surrounded me. Leaf Floating on the Breeze lead into Lightning of Three Prongs as I made my move. Meeting Lan's blade in a lock, I circled him, pushing the man down as I cut for his neck. He slid easily out of the lock, sending me stumbling, quickly righting myself as the Oneness shook, and assuming Lion on the Hill as a flurry of blows signaled Lan's retaliation. Blow for blow, I blocked him, focused on the steady beat of his blade, until suddenly I was just a little too slow.

After he finished with a killing blow, we stopped.

"What did you do wrong?" he asked sternly.

"I got caught up in the rhythm, and didn't react fast enough."

Lan shook his head, a hint of disappointment. "You were caught up in the sword, not the warrior. The sword is a mere extension of my will. You must focus on all of me, or you would have seen that I was preparing to move quicker. You will be facing Halfmen and Forsaken. Men and not-men who are stronger, faster, better trained and more skilled. They will not give you allowances, or let you determine the rhythm of battle. You cannot forget to focus on the whole picture, Rand."

With that grim piece of advice given our spar continued; me trying and failing to put Lan down, and him slipping easily out of any trap or set up, before immediately turning it on me with flurries I desperately countered, trying to follow his advice as I survived the onslaught. I was a sweaty mess even with the nice breeze coming off the river, bare-chested and rapped half-a-dozen times by the training sword—a bundle of sticks bound in imitation—raising welts along my chest and abdomen.

Yet I was getting better. Only a month ago it would have been over a dozen.

After we finished—lit by the barest hint of a setting sun—Lan pulled a tin flask from his pack, taking a long sip, before passing it over to me. Sweat dried on my skin as I stared at the battered flask. "Brandy. From southern Shienar. You'll like it. All men should drink kerschdrel."

I took an experimental sip and tasted a smooth, fruity liquor that had a hint of almonds and more than a hint of heat. I managed not to cough, taking a second sip. Almonds. It tastes of cherries and almonds. I handed the flask back to Lan, who took it with no wasted motion, downing a dram.

"It's delicious."

As night fell and the halfmoon rose, casting a soft glow over the landscape, he spoke to me of duty, and power, and responsibility; not as Lan the Warder, but as al'Lan Mandragoran, would-be King of Malkier. My duty to my people. My power to see their dreams and nightmares made reality. My responsibility to judge when duty calls me to use my power and when it does not.

"It is why I am here, and not building a New Malkier in the empty lands south of Shienar. My duty is not to keep a fading dream lit, but to fight the Shadow in revenge for fallen Malkier, for every life lost. And there was and is no better way, then to fight at Moiraine's side. My responsibility to the dead calls me to make the choice. Malkier reborn is just a dream, and from dreams we all wake."

"Maybe now, but who can say what the future holds, Lan?" I said, sipping kerschdrel, enjoying the pleasant heat that filled my belly. "I managed to push back the Blight for miles, without even knowing what I was doing."

"Hence why fighting at Moiraine's side is the best way," he said, taking the flask from me. "Would you have survived to reach that point with another Warder by Moiraine's side? I do not think so. I have been trained for my war since I was six years old. Far longer than any Tower Warder. Any hope for Malkier lies in you, not any actions of mine. The best I can do is make sure you survive."

"I will do my best, Lan Gaidin."

He grunted.

I lit a flame of saidin in the air between us, a thin flow of Fire forming a dancing flame.

Lan sighed, and then focused, resonating with the flame.

Tammaz 7, 998 NE (July 13th)

As I slowly opened my eyes, the sight of Moiraine's radiant smile and fondness in the bond filled me with a sense of contentment. The warmth of her embrace and the gentle caress of the salt-filled breeze flowing through the open windows created a blissful atmosphere in her seventh-floor suite. The thin bedsheet barely covering our naked bodies was a reminder of the intimate connection we shared.

Moiraine's face, so close to mine, exuded a softness that seemed to deepen as I awakened. Her smile, instead of fading, grew even more captivating. It was a smile that conveyed a genuine happiness and an unspoken understanding between us. In that moment, I couldn't help but feel incredibly fortunate to be in her arms, experiencing such a profound sense of comfort and intimacy.

The air in the suite held a subtle scent of the ocean, carrying with it a hint of adventure and possibility. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring us together in this moment, wrapped in each other's embrace. As I gazed into Moiraine's eyes, I knew that this connection was something special, something worth cherishing.

She scooted closer and gave me a long soft kiss, which grew into much more, grew heated over long minutes and I lost myself in her, in her body; soft, slender, with delightful curves. It took me a while to remember where we were; the bed was as soft as a cloud and I was alone with Moiraine, so I considered it a dream, one of the good ones. There was no need to worry about kingdoms and battles and saidin, duty and death, when I had the body of the woman I could not help but to indulge in.

Later, Moiraine sighed happily, her deep brown eyes content and her body languid, a mild sweat raised by our exertions, the creamy skin of her bosom just barely covered by the blanket. She rested her head on the pillow next to mine, her hair spilling like a fan around her, the fingers of her left hand casually drumming across my chest.

"It is so nice to have a true bed again. Alone, together. It was what I missed, you know? We shall have to stay in Illian for at least a few months, so I may get some proper relaxation in. Maybe even a whole day to myself, simply basking in the sun and reading a good book, with my dragon by my side. If you give me the opportunity, of course, and do not drown me in work," she said with a teasing grin.

That reminded me. Reminded me of where I was, and what I faced this morning, popping the bubble the dream held me in.

Today, today was important. Today was the start. Today we were going to seek an audience with the King of Illian, to speak to him in private of what we planned. Moiraine and I had gone over the plan for the last week of travel. We would present the Amyrlin Seat's letter and explain the reasoning why I must become King. But that would only be the start of it all. I would eventually have to meet more than just the King, in my bid for power.

Illian was a tripartite government, that is to say it was composed of three parts: The King of Illian, the Council of Nine, and the Assemblage.

The King was the leader of the nation, royal and noble in blood. The Council of Nine was an advisory body of nobility that arose from an agreement with the original nine nobles who sought to combat the power of the first would-be King, Lord Nicoli Merseneos den Ballin. And Ballin meant the Assemblage, an advisory body of the common people composed mostly of merchants and ship captains, to combat the power of the Council of Nine, but in practice each contributes to the deadlock that Illian’s government often experienced. Illianers consider it the greatest, most perfect form of government imaginable, for the system of "checks and balances" it places on the rulers, preventing anyone from becoming too powerful or tyrannical. Moiraine called it moronic and short-sighted, slow and prone to political logjams.

We would need the King’s help to navigate such a morass and thus his agreement to the plan. Then we would need to approach the Council of Nine, and the Assemblage, and gain their support for my kingship. Moiraine seemed to think it would be simple.

It seemed a joke. A shepherd with half his memory gone, as King of Illian. I had to keep reminding myself I was so much more than that now, that I had all the training and knowledge that Moiraine thought I needed, that I had her support always if I made a mistake. I intended to appoint her as my Voice, to Moiraine’s delight. A rare but storied tradition in Illian, a Voice acted as just that, the voice of the king for the Council and the Assemblage, speaking with royal writ. The greatest heroes, and worst villains, both have been Voices. An Aes Sedai as Voice, and a woman as Voice, would be new, but they would simply have to deal with it. Change was coming for everyone, whether or not they liked it.

"I can make no promises, but a day to ourselves does sound feasible sooner than later."

"Speaking of sooner than later, the sun is saying we need to get ready," Moiraine said, giving the window a frown. Disappointment saturated the bond. I leaned over and kissed her deeply, a delighted chuckle coming from my wife.

As we crossed the Square of Tammaz—a wide plain of marble, surrounded by huge columns of white marble at least thirty feet tall and twelve feet thick, supporting nothing but a wreath of carved olive branches at the top and bearing a simple reflection pool in the center with a statue of the First King—to the King’s Palace, brilliant and glowing in the morning light, I grew steadily more nervous. The Horn was secure in a hard case of leather, scuffed and travelworn, in my right hand, as Moiraine thought it would be best to make sure no one looked twice.

The Square was bustling with activity even at this early hour, filled with the echoes of footsteps on the polished marble. The air carried the scent of freshly bloomed flowers, mingling with the delicate fragrance of burning incense. The sound of distant laughter and the murmurs of conversation surrounded me, creating a sense of anticipation within me. As we approached the King's Palace, the sunlight danced on its golden walls, casting a warm glow that seemed to envelop the entire courtyard. The grandeur of the palace, adorned with intricate stone carvings and shimmering mosaics, left me in awe. I had never seen its like before.

Yet, amidst the grandeur, my anxiety grew. Every step felt heavier, and my grip on the leather case tightened. The weight of responsibility pressed down on me, as the fate of the Horn rested in my hands. The fate of the world, the Last Battle, rested on this foundational moment. This was the first step. The real journey began here. Duty is heavier than a mountain, death is lighter than a feather.

Moiraine gave a squeeze with the hand around my arm, and I glanced at her. She wore her blue shawl, embroidered with climbing vines heavy with grapes, with the White Flame of Tar Valon, and a deep blue dress with a surprising amount of cleavage for Moiraine, which is to say only a hint, rather than her usual conservative dress. A belt of braided gold lay cinched around her waist, and her dark brown hair was done up in a net of gold sparkling with tiny sapphires. She looked as regal as a queen and as beautiful a storybook princess. She was mine. My heart swelled, and she smiled at me, her fondness echoing mine and soothing my worry.

The sun cast a warm golden glow on Moiraine, accentuating the intricate embroidery of her shawl. The scent of ripe berries wafted through the air, mingling with the faint fragrance of her perfume. As we walked, the soft rustle of her dress whispered like a gentle breeze. Her presence exuded an air of elegance and grace, captivating all who laid eyes upon her. Captivating my eyes.

"You will do fine, Rand. Just be honest and forthright with the man and you will have him eating out of the palm of your hand. I do not doubt after over forty years on the throne, he is tired of thin-blood nobles with twisting words. You have your father’s letter, don’t you?"

I felt the parchment in my left-hand pocket. My attire comprised a striking green and gold coat—open in the heat—adorned with golden herons on the collars and cuffs, paired with a black silk shirt, embellished with plush gold buttons, and dark brown linen pants, enhanced by intricately climbing vines with tiny colorful flowers along the side seams. My sword lay wrapped in white and red peace-cord, belted to my side in a simple leather sheathe, the bronze heron mark visible on the hilt.

The soldiers at the gate to the King’s Palace eyed it uncomfortably long, as we waited for a servant to take us inside. One seemed to want to say something, but stopped himself every time he glanced at Moiraine’s cool face, staying completely flat and sweat-free in the summer heat of Illian, a wet heat that faintly smelled of salt and fish even outside the palace, with its sweet smelling gardens, and the incense on the air.

Led by a stern-faced, thin woman who gave her name as Morwyna, we were taken through halls adorned with marble statuary, grand paintings, and mesmerizing mosaics, all without uttering a single word. Finally she stopped outside an unmarked door. "Moiraine Sedai, you and your Warder may rest in this room, while the King finishes with prior duties. He will be here to visit you shortly, with the Lady Jadine." Moiraine’s face stayed perfectly smooth, but the bond soured at the mention of the Aes Sedai.

The Lady Jadine was Jadine Gertzy Volyova, a Saldaean Sister of the Gray Ajah, dedicated to politics and mediation. They favor harmony and consensus above all else, and are often conflict mediators or ambassadors. She wasn’t officially an advisor, as Illian was too close to Tear and Amadicia for public Aes Sedai advisors, instead hiding in plain sight as Lady Jadine. She may also be a problem.

But we had multiple solutions. Worst case scenario, Moiraine and I join in circle and shield her, before having a reasonable conversation like four humans beings. Best case scenario, the Amyrlin’s Seal is enough to convince Jadine Sedai that our cause is true, and I am the Dragon Reborn and should be assisted in any way possible. And then there’s everything between.

Sitting there, anticipation building, I noticed my breath becoming rapid and uneven.

"Rand. We are simply going to discuss matters. Whatever happens, trust me."

I nodded, "I do. I trust you." Then I emptied my mind and focused my breathing. Moiraine is right. She has to be right. Not five minutes later, a man and woman entered the room, one after the other, led by the same stern woman who directed us.

Despite the physical toll that time had taken on him, the man known as Mattin Stepaneos den Balgar, King of Illian, still exuded an undeniable presence. His muscular frame hinted at a once formidable strength, and although age had dulled his good looks, there was a certain rugged charm that remained.

A neatly trimmed white beard adorned his face, leaving his upper lip bare, while his receding hairline revealed the passing years. His nose, having been broken multiple times, bore the marks of past battles and hardships. Deep creases etched lines of wisdom and experience across his weathered face.

But it was his attire that truly set him apart. Clad in a fine green silk coat lined with medals, intricately embroidered with the Golden Bees of Illian on the sleeves, he wore the Laurel Crown upon his brow like it belonged there. Though time had been unkind to his appearance, Mattin Stepaneos den Balgar's regality and presence remained unshaken.

Jadine Gertzy Volyova, with her ageless Aes Sedai face, stood tall, towering over Moiraine by two hands. Her presence commanded attention as she entered the room, exuding an air of matronly authority. Dressed in a silk gray gown adorned with intricate silver-thread work on the chest, she caught my eye with the surprising display of her generous bosom. A flare of annoyance was quickly smothered by Moiraine.

Her long, flowing black hair held a single streak of silver, adding a captivating contrast to her appearance. With her sharply angled eyes, she fixed a curious gaze upon me, her right hand confidently grasping a black and gold fan. The fan, a symbol of elegance and refinement, only enhanced her already striking presence.

Why do Aes Sedai have to be so beautiful?

Aes Sedai, of course, do not bow to royalty. Their Warders, on the other hand… I stood and bowed to the king, with the only bow Lan's ever taught me; the bow of a Borderlander. The king sat before acknowledging my bow, casting a curious eye at me as I stood back up.

"So this do be the young man that be causing so much trouble? He do have the look of an Aielman, no a Borderlander," he muttered to Jadine.

"It appears the letter is at least partially true. How interesting," she said back, before focusing on us. "I am Jadine Sedai, and I have heard much of you, Moiraine, over the years from my sisters. Firstly, we must deal with Tower matters, before we discuss why you decided to take residence in the Blue House. You must know, Moiraine Sedai, that you have been ordered to return to the White Tower, by the Full Consensus of the Hall of the Tower, but the Amyrlin Seat did not sign it. They claim your bonding of a second Warder, and a chinnar'veren at that, deserves an inquest in three months' time. Now," she turned her focus on me, her eyes seeming to pierce through me. I couldn't help stiffening. "Is this true? Is this young man, your new Warder, a shapechanger?"

Moiraine lay a hand on my own and smiled. "He is far more than a simple chinnar'veren, and what I do, I do with the Amyrlin Seat's accord and permission. I will be glad to share once you read this." She withdrew the letter from a pouch and handed it to the Gray Sister.

The woman's eyes raised only by the briefest margins, raising further as she read it. I knew what it said, having been shown it by Moiraine.

What the bearer does is done at my order and by my authority.

Obey, and keep silent, at my command.

Siuan Sanche

Watcher of the Seals

Flame of Tar Valon

The Amyrlin Seat

She handed the letter to the King, whose eyes widened as he read it, and gaped at the two of us. The opulent room was quiet for a minute as the Gray Sister seemed to contemplate the two of us while Moiraine stared boldly back.

"So, whatever this is," she said, waving the letter at me, "The Hall does not know. The Tairen must be playing a close game. But I will adhere to it. There must be a very good reason behind all this."

"Far be it from me to inquire what be the motives of Aes Sedai, but what do be the thing we're to be silent for?" the King asked, eyeing me carefully.

Moiraine patted my hand, and I lifted up the instrument case to my lap, undoing the brass latches, revealing a golden horn.

"The Horn of Valere," Moiraine announced calmly, as if she were talking about tea, "and the Dragon Reborn. Both are in this room."

Without delay, the Gray Sister's eyes turned towards me—her fan making sharp twitches—but I remained steadfast, meeting her penetrating gaze without any sign of hesitation. She will not gentle me. Moiraine would never let her. I squashed the thoughts without hesitation, burning away the fear that came with them. Ko'di gave me strength, washing away the anxiety of the moment.

"So that is the game she plays. A dangerous one, liable to burn her if she is not more careful." She gave me a look, wary yet strangely hopeful. Does she believe us?

"The White Tower do no be in the business of raising False Dragons, I had thought," the King intoned, his face a rigid mask. "What manner of bloody foolishness do this be?"

"Watch your mouth, Mattin Stepaneos! Such accusations foul the very air," Jadine snapped back at him, and he directed a glare at her.

"He is not False," Moiraine said calmly. "He has already fulfilled prophecy. Show your marks, Rand."

I pulled down my right sleeve, revealing the glittering dragon tattoo, and the heron burnt into my palm.

"Once the heron to mark his path, once the dragon for remembrance lost," Jadine murmured as she gazed at my arm, before turning to Moiraine. "I presume the strange snakelion with antlers is a dragon?"

Moiraine nodded, bond humming pleased with the ease the Aes Sedai seemed to take the news. "You are correct. And he was born on Dragonmount, born of the ancient blood of the Aiel and raised by the old blood of Manetheren. I have spent nineteen years searching for him, first under the orders of Tamra Ospenya then under the orders of Siuan Sanche. He is not false. The Amyrlin Seat has a plan for him."

"And what plan do that be?" Mattin said, eying me warily.

"I am to announce myself as Lord Drake, the chinnar'veren who found and saved the Horn of Valere from Darkfriends, and has returned it to Illian," I said succinctly. "Second Warder to an Aes Sedai, and bonded for love."

"The Council of Nine will surely declare you king, if what you say is the truth, even with your bond to Moiraine," the Gray Sister said with a curious lack of emotion. I noticed she seemed completely unbothered by all of this, when she should be feeling something. Perhaps she was falling back on meditation? I mused.

Moiraine confirmed, "He did find the Horn, and rescue it after it was stolen by Darkfriends. And that is the intent, yes."

"So it do be my throne you be after," Mattin growled. The man's face was as still as a winter's pond, his eyes glinting like diamonds. I straightened in my seat a little. I needed to let him know this wasn't merely a coup. That there was more thought behind it.

"I do this not because I seek the throne, but because the Amyrlin Seat has ordered me to. The Amyrlin Seat wishes me to ascend to the throne of Illian, and use its army to investigate Toman Head, and its rumors of Hawkwing's armies returned. I do not believe I am yet fit for kingship and I would ask that you stay on as an advisor. When I began forming my new empire, you will become Governor of Illian, King in all but name again. That is what I can offer you, your Majesty."

He frowned at me. "I do be the King of Illian for decades, and you be a fool if you think you can walk in here, with a letter that be from the Amyrlin Seat and claim yourself the Dragon Reborn and take my seat, Fortune prick me. What else do ye have as proof? How do I know this do no be some fool plot?"

I stood and pulled on the energy beneath my skin, transforming into the so'shan; a mane of red-gold hair spilling down my back, the antlers sprouting from my brow, scales of red and gold sheathing my fingers, and my teeth growing sharp and pointed. My face held a sharp and alien beauty, scales lining my jaw and eyes.

"I am chinnar'veren, with a Lord Form." I did not reveal my Battlebeast Form just yet. At least one Forsaken knew of it, but who knew if they worked together or told each other information. Moiraine seemed to think it safer to keep as a backup, just in case. Jadine Sedai eyed me with the hunger of a man seeing a beautiful woman, and I blushed in startlement. The King eyed me warily though, examining me closely. I focused on him instead of the Aes Sedai. "I am the first chinnar'veren to return to the Westlands since the Trolloc Wars."

"Are you a man or a Trolloc?" he said when I finished. I blinked in confusion. I look nothing like a Trolloc! I am far more pleasing to the eye, I thought with a huff.

Jadine Sedai snorted at her king. "You have not seen Trollocs, if you think this young man looks anything close to them," she said with an amused tone. "So it is all true. We are speaking to the Lord Dragon, I presume?"

"Call me Lord Drake in public. We have put forward I am a Sharan drake, a snakelion. But yes, I am also Lord Dragon, in the parlance of chinnar'veren. I am a Dragon, quite literally the beast for which Lews Therin Kinslayer was named."

Then I turned to the King, who sat, wavering between anger and shock.

"Your Majesty, I do not wish to usurp your throne. I was born… no, not born." I shook my head. "I was raised a shepherd, in the Two Rivers. I have no experience with ruling. I have no idea, truly, what I am doing. I will be relying on the advice of Moiraine Sedai, and presumably Jadine Sedai, and hopefully, you as well. I will need everyone by my side. The Last Battle is coming. The Forsaken have awoken. Two are dead, and I've injured a third, and fought a fourth." That had everyone in the room rigid with fear, shock, horror, even relief. "I am sorry I have to take your place, but I will keep the seat warm, so you may replace me again in the months ahead. My rule will only ever be temporary, and you will come to rule Illian again. I aim to be the High King, of the Westlands and beyond, and Illian will become the heart of my empire."

Moiraine corroborated me, adding a touch of Aes Sedai truth to the matter. "Tarmon Gai'don looms and the Forsaken are indeed loose, at least some of them, and what Rand said about them is true. Two dead, a third injured, all male at the Eye of the World, and a fourth encountered during a later attack, female. The Forsaken will likely gravitate towards great cities like Illian, and infest them like a parasite, killing or turning the ruler to their side, to the Shadow. With the Dragon Reborn ruling, that will not happen. You will be protected."

"You are absolutely certain?" Jadine Sedai asked, urgently. Her face was tense, betraying any remaining Aes Sedai calm.

Moiraine nodded. "As certain as I can be. Aginor, by Rand's hand, and Balthamel, are dead, Ishamael injured, and an unknown female encountered."

Jadine Sedai stared hard at me, as if trying to figure out a puzzle. I held back from squirming under the piercing gaze.

"Fortune prick me, Forsaken, loose? And the boy killed one? Truly?" Moiraine nodded, and the king sighed, and sunk wearily into his chair. "Light burn my old bones, it be really happening. Fine. Bah. Fine. What else do I say before the Amyrlin Seat's orders and the threat of Tarmon Gai'don and the Forsaken? So when do we be taking the Stone of Tear, Lord Dragon? You be at least giving me that, won't ye?"

"We can decide on everything else once Toman Head is secure. The Shadow seeks Toman Head and the Almoth Plain. And I have been told to seek Toman Head, by other means as well. That and securing my temporary reign will be the focus of the next few months, but after, we can discuss it. Once Toman Head and the Almoth Plain is secure, I will announce myself as Dragon Reborn."

I paused, and the king spoke. "I do hope we can be doing more than discussing the matter."

I assuaged him. "The next logical step is Tear, and taking Callandor, to prove myself to everyone. If I personally visit Tear, I can guarantee I can bring shiploads of Companions over, using a version of Traveling I have rediscovered, into the city before the guard can react, within an hour."

"You… can Travel?" Jadine Sedai revealed little, but her shock was still obvious. The king, meanwhile, had eyes alight at the thought of having soldiers inside Tear. I figured that would catch his fancy.

"It is a secret to be kept close, but yes. I have rediscovered a number of weaves from the Age of Legends, including a form of Traveling."

"You be certain you can do this? Get the Companions into Tear in less than a day, without any be the wiser?" the King asked me, unconcerned with the One Power or lost weaves.

"Absolutely. I could open a Door into the Stone of Tear itself, if I manage to learn it well enough. Imagine, the Stone of Tear taken from within."

Mattin grinned toothily. "I do be wanting to see that in action. How does this 'Traveling' work? How many can ye take?"

"I can open a Door to a different realm, a Darkspace where distance is much shorter, and with my mind create a vehicle to travel in, whether wagon or ship or fantastical creation never seen before. I've taken around forty people and two dozen horses in a ship before, but if I scaled up the ship I could take a hundred, two hundred, maybe even five hundred if they didn't mind being packed like sardines for about half an hour. It will change the face of warfare."

Mattin grinned even wider. "I think this may be the start of a beautiful friendship, Lord Dragon."

"You can Travel," Jadine Sedai repeated, covering her mouth with her fan. Is she foolish? I wondered.

"He can Travel, of a sort," Moiraine agreed, giving a calm smile. "He moved an entire ship's full of sailor's to the Two Rivers from the Braem Woods in less than an hour."

Suddenly Jadine Sedai's eyes locked onto Moiraine's, and she questioned my wife, "You can Travel as well, can you not?" Moiraine pointedly did not answer, simply giving Jadine Sedai a stare back, smiling all the while. Jadine huffed, raising her nose after a minute of silent staring, looking throughly disappointed. "I am not here to play games, dear sister."

"Neither am I. It is not time for the White Tower to learn the weave. But I will teach you, if you make a promise."

"What sort of promise?" the Gray Sister asked, warily.

"Promise that you will never teach someone, or knowingly let someone learn the weave, through action, or inaction, and I will let you learn to Travel, like Aes Sedai of old."

Jadine immediately pursed her lips and turned to me. "And you, Lord Dragon? Are you satisfied with your Aes Sedai keeping this information to herself?"

I nodded succinctly, to Mattin's obvious amusement. "Yes. She convinced me with the promise. For you can speak no word that is not true, so your promises bind you. An interesting fact to note and useful in future negotiations with the White Tower." The knot that was Moiraine in the back of my mind flashed annoyance and pride in equal measure, followed by a deep fondness.

Mattin laughed, gaining an icy glare from both women, though Moiraine felt no more annoyed than she had before. "He do be having you there, Jadine. Aes Sedai, that be able to cross the world, and appear at any moment?" He shivered. "Light perish the thought!"

Jadine's features smoothed as she focused back on Moiraine and I, and she gained a calm countenance, obviously false to a man who knew how Aes Sedai really felt. "If it is what is required, then I will swear such a vow. I promise that I, Jadine Gertzy Volyova, will never teach someone, or knowingly let someone learn the Traveling weave, through action, or inaction, until I am released from this vow."

It was unfortunate that she radiated bitterness as she spoke the words, but she said them. She looked as if a weight had been added to her shoulders when she finished, and she slumped a little in her chair. Her fan flicked and twisted at me.

"Thank you, Jadine Sedai," I said, with sincerity. I truly did not think any of this would be so simple. Her fan danced a little more before it snapped shut, and she sighed.

"It will not be too difficult a vow to keep, Lord Dragon. There are precious few places I wish to go besides my family manor is Saldaea, and the most delectable wine shop in Bandar Eban, named the Questing Rose. Neither will have any Aes Sedai who can watch me come and go, and will keep quiet on my appearances."

"I be hearing you speak of such a place fondly, when a tipple or three do be in your stomach. Would you be minding taking a soon-to-be former King to a Domani wineshop? Or do I be ruining the 'ambiance' of such a beloved establishment."

"Guard your tongue a little better, and perhaps we will see. I have a feeling young Rand will require much of our attention, but perhaps we can sneak away once in a while, Mattin," she said, calm as can be, betraying no hint of whether or not she cared for the idea. "As it is, the Speaker needs to be informed the Horn of Valere has been found, and informed today. Rumors and tales of Lord Drake need to be spread, but I am sure my sister in Blue can handle that. They are particularly talented in that field. And Rand needs to be trained. I assume you have been doing what you could, Moiraine Sedai, but a political education really ought to be handled by a Gray."

Moiraine gave no sign of the flare of anger broiled the bond. Instead she smiled, and said, "But of course. I will have to cut my lessons short soon, anyway and him having another Aes Sedai to tutor him will solve the matter of his continuing education. Thank you for solving such the matter."

"And what will you be doing that is that much more important than ensuring the future High King is educated correctly?"

I spoke up then, interrupting the nascent cat-fight. "She will be my Voice."

The bright, mirrored lamplight reflected in their eyes as they stared at me in disbelief. Mattin gripped his trousers, while Jadine smoothed her skirts.

"But she be an Aes Sedai!" the King protested, looking aghast.

"A female Voice?" the Gray Sister muttered to herself, as if she could not quite believe it.

"She is my wife. She will be my queen. She will speak with my Voice, and act with my will, as Lord Drake and Lord Dragon. There is nothing you can say or do that will change my mind. I am a shepherd from the Two Rivers, I must remind you two, beneath all the Lord nonsense. Moiraine Damodred is the niece of a king, born and raised in the Sun Palace. She is an Aes Sedai of the White Tower, raised to the shawl. If she is not fit to speak for a king, who is?"

"Alright, lad, alright. You be right, there is no thing but tradition that be forcing the Speaker to be male and neither do there be a law that forbids Aes Sedai to the post. Folks will be upset and confused, though," Mattin warned.

"Moiraine al'Thor. I took your last name, remember?" Moiraine said with a hint of annoyance trickling through.

That reminded me. "Oh Light, speaking of al'Thor, my father has a letter for you, your Majesty. I meant to give it to you earlier." Foolish. It should have been the first thing I did.

"So you do be his boy," Mattin said, taking the letter and opening it swiftly. His eyes seemed to devour the paper, alternating between surprise and amusement. "He really did do the bloody thing, and went back to farming, did he? I told him he would tire of it, but that no be true, do it? For he be no with you. A shame Kari died so young. She be a kind lass, Fortune prick me til I burn if she wasn't."

I held myself back from grimacing. I barely remembered my mother, merely that she existed. She was a handful of bright images, and a gravestone. And to think this man knew her better than I ever will… It made my heart burn just a little.

He continued reading. "Ah, and here we go. I'm to no be too hard on ye, because you do be a hard-working young farmer lad just like Tam was, in over your head no matter what you look like, or who you be with. Aye, he's your father alright. I remember Tam. He be one of the better lads to come through the Companions. First Captain material, but he did no wish to spend the rest of his life in Illian, defending her interests. Honest lad, he always be telling it to me straight. Close to my age, and I was younger and more hot-blooded back then. We would spar and he would put me in place, and then help me back up." Mattin chuckled as if remembering one of those times. "Yes, an honest lad. If he says you be just a simple shepherd forced by fate and prophecy, then I believe him, I do. I wasn't certain you were his son, before I met you, but the letter from the White Tower mentioned you by name and I had wondered."

"Thank you, your Majesty. Your help in the upcoming months will be sorely needed." I turned to Moiraine. "What shall we do about such a summons?"

Moiraine adopted a bemused expression. "What I have done with every announcement and summons the Hall of the Tower have made of me, I shall ignore it and live my life how I choose. Why should I listen to those who would force me into power against my will, who plot to put me on a throne and puppet me like a doll? I live my own life, with my own goal, finding, guiding and protecting the Dragon Reborn."

Jadine Sedai hummed. "Is that how you view your little rebellion? How interesting. I suppose if you have been on the case since Tamra Ospenya, you would view it as more important and vital than securing Cairhien for the White Tower, in the troubles after Laman's death. Certainly gives everything I know about you a different perspective."

"Nothing is more important than Rand, certainly not the Sun Throne and who sits on it. Nothing." Her voice was icy-smooth.

I clapped my hands as the two Aes Sedai starred calmly at eachother, each smiling peacefully, but the anger and embarrassment in Moiraine's bond meant I believed none of it. "While it is lovely to hear my wife say nothing is more important than me, I'm certain your time, your Majesty, is worth much more than mine right now."

Mattin gave me a bemused expression, as he glanced between the two women. "The Speaker must be informed, and my council as well. We be having to hold a ceremony, perhaps within the month; a brandishing of the Horn, and an acknowledgement of any deeds of valor committed in your journey southwards, from the Blight. Yours will be a tale told by bards all over, before the end of the year, I do be certain of that."

"Perhaps we can have Rael Lyotah hear your story in full, to compose such a piece would be in a court-bard's area of expertise, and a group of gleeman, so they can prepare as well. Such men talk, of course, but that will simply swell the interest in you, Lord Drake," the Gray sister said, seeming to be musing idly, though she kept a steady eye on Moiraine, make lazy curlicues with her fan.

"Perhaps," I nodded. "We have been preparing a tale to be told for the Council of Nine that conveniently dodges the Dragon question."

"Good, then you do have a tale for the gleemen as well. In three days' time the Speaker and I will hear that tale, with Moiraine and Jadine Sedai present as representatives of the White Tower, to lend credibility to your story that do be somewhat outrageous. And if the story do past muster with the Speaker, we be moving on to the bard and gleemen."

Jadine smoothly took over. "It is not that we do not believe what you have told us, but that we must make sure what you tell us and the Council does not lead anyone to suspect your… nature, before you are ready."

Moiraine sighed. "Rumors of his nature are bound to spread; nearly twenty Shienarans, and two dozen sailors know him as the Dragon Reborn, and there are those who will not be able to keep their mouths shut, despite all efforts to encourage the contrary. Especially the ones in Emond Field, who believe, wrongly, that Rand is False, or a puppet of the White Tower. They were promised release to Illian, and Rand is not one to go back on his word, even if it is more expedient for him to."

"And what is your solution to this mess you have found yourself in?" Jadine Sedai asked Moiraine.

"Denial and silence. When they claim him false, deny, when they claim him true, stay silent on the matter and give them a look of disdain, or pity, or some other emotion that will have them second guessing themselves. The veil of secrecy only need last a few months, until Toman Head. There, Rand will announce himself."

"With two Aes Sedai denying their claims, that should strangle any rumors in the crib," I said, morbidly. "One hopes it will be enough."

"It will need to be enough," Moiraine said, cooly.

Soon the king left, having other matters to attend to and prepare, and we were led by Jadine Sedai. Instead of taking us out of the palace, however, she took us to her rooms; her sitting room filled with reminders of Saldaea, tapestries depicting triumphs of Trolloc hordes, and fine wood carvings of wild horses herds on vast plains, and delicate glass vases filled with winter roses.

Stepping into the room from the bedroom was her Warder, an older, well-built man with grey hair shorn short and a well-appointed goatee. He was dressed in a gray silk shirt and white linen pants, both simple yet well-made and wore a blade at his side. He took us in with a cool, calculating look, and turned to his Aes Sedai, with a raised eyebrow.

I felt the chill of a woman embracing saidar but no rush of saidin.

"I have warded the quarters from ears. Mikhael, this is Moiraine al'Thor nee Damodred, Blue Sister of the White Tower, and her second Warder, Rand al'Thor."

"The troublemaker," he grunted as he eyed me, "and her second wild Warder, that she apparently married, like a Green. Are you sure she is a Blue?"

"Yes, but not quite the troublemaker we had assumed, dear." She turned to look at us. "May I explain to him the full situation?"

Moiraine looked to me so I nodded and said, "Go ahead."

"Moiraine Sedai is no rebellious daughter, but a true Aes Sedai, and Blue sister, working for her cause, a cause given to her by more than one Amyrlin Seat." He considered us as she spoke, and I felt like I should sit straighter. I kept myself in the relaxed lounging I had assumed when I sat, though. This man was not Lan. I owed him nothing. "She has been searching for the Dragon Reborn, under secret orders, to secure him for the Light and the White Tower."

The look of horror and realization on Mikhael's face was disheartening, but the Warder quickly smoothed his features and gave me a steady look. I should have expected it though.

"Him," he said, his voice icy calm.

Jadine nodded. "She has proven enough signs and portents have been fulfilled for me to tentatively agree that Rand al'Thor is the Dragon Reborn. The next few months should prove that true, or make fools of us all. He has an ingenious idea for taking the Stone involving lost weaves. If it is possible, we shall see Callandor in his hands before six months pass."

The Warder considered me with new eyes, wary eyes, as if seeing me for the first time. "I see. So the Last Battle is that close. I shall see it before I leave your side, then. Lord Dragon, how old are you."

I could guess what he was truly asking, 'How long have you studied the blade?' "Less than a year old."

"Come, then. Let me test you in the courtyard, for you surely do not deserve those herons yet. We can leave our Aes Sedai to their inevitable gossiping."

Jadine swatted her Warder as he stood up. "Perhaps we should instead follow and watch you two knuckle heads beat each other, instead."

And for an hour, I spent desperate spars trying to predict where Mikhael would hit, realizing just how much Lan held back when we trained. Welts covered my arms and legs, the Warder targeting my limbs. He was clean of any blows, nothing I did making it even close to touching the man. It was like fighting a rainstorm and I was just as successful. Still, when we finished, he said I was adequate for my age. A crowd had gathered, of nobles and their attendants. Distantly, I felt embarrassed outside the void. I had put my reputation on the line, loosing so badly. Would they remember, when I was king?

Mikael led me back to Jadine's rooms, where Moiraine sat facing her Gray sister, feeling half annoyed, half pleased. She frowned when she saw me. "I see Lan still needs to teach you much. Perhaps Jadine Sedai would consider lending her Warder for training."

"Mikhael would be delighted to work alongside al'Lan Mandragoran to train Lord Drake," Jadine Sedai said with a pleased expression on her face, making no effort to hide her emotion.

I looked at the Warder, who looked back, stone-faced. I asked him, "Can you accept a man channeling? I will need to use the One Power to reach our training areas."

For a long minute he stared back, the room silent as the Aes Sedai watched us. Finally, the Warder shrugged. "If my Aes Sedai asks this of me, I will accept."

The Gray Sister raised an eyebrow at that. "You will accept, of course, if it is not too much trouble, dear," she said with a smile that seemed slightly… off. Then she turned to me. "I assume you are using Traveling?"

"Yes, Jadine Sedai," both of us answered, before Mikhael gave me a dirty look and the Aes Sedai released a throaty laugh, while amusement tinkled in Moiraine's bond.

"Yes," I repeated, "I will use the Door to travel to other places, and practice there, since I will be practicing the One Power as well." Jadine sucked in a quick breath and her Warder's eyes hardened. "You will have to become used to it, if you join Lan and I." I pointedly did not mention I was teaching Lan the basics of channeling. That was a whole can of worms I'm sure Moiraine wanted kept tight and locked away. Hell, I wanted it locked away tight.

"I can handle Traveling like the ancient Aes Sedai. I am a Warder. Where my Aes Sedai asks of me, I go, even if it is to watch a man kill himself," Mikhael said defensively.

I ignored that remark, knowing the truth. "I practice in the early morning and after lunch. You're welcome to either or both sessions."

"My own training occupies my mornings, but I can make it to your afternoon sessions starting next week."

"Then I'll see you two days from now, at the Blue House, when the sun is high," I said, standing and putting out a hand for the Warder to shake. To his credit, he didn't flinch or twist his face in a moue of disgust, he simply shook.

Both of our Aes Sedai seemed pleased.

Later that afternoon, after Moiraine and I had returned from the palace and had lunch, Lan and I trained in a clearing where I had opened a Door to Emond's Field last week, a fifteen-minute walk from the river.

"It is strange, meeting another Warder and then fighting him. You hold back so much for me, don't you?" I asked Lan as we stretched.

"I give you the difficulty you need to advance. Mikkael was testing you. Those require different levels of difficulty."

"I think he dislikes me."

"He probably does. Many will for many reasons, scales. People dislike change, and change is what you will bring to everything, everywhere. You must be prepared to face their dislike and flow around it like a river round a boulder. In time you will wear them down, if you are patient enough."

Like much of Lan's advice, it was bitterly pragmatic.

He worked me til I was covered in welts and bruises, and had to seek out Moiraine for Healing. Instead I found Verin Sedai.

"Oh dear, what happened to you?"

"Training. I was going to see Moiraine for Healing."

"Ah, that Lan was working you over was he? If only I had the presence of mind to bring Tomas, he would have had a field day with you, Lord Drake. But as far as injuries go this is something I can certainly handle."

"I couldn't ask that of you, Verin Sedai."

"It is no bother," the woman said, rubbing the ink spot on her nose. "Now, give your hand dear. I may not be the best Healer, but I can certainly handle bruises and sword-welts."

Icy cold gripped me for a brief second that seemed to last forever, rushing through my body. Then it was over, and I was whole again, no aches or bruises or stings.

I bowed briefly and rose again. "Thank you, Verin Sedai."

"Such a polite young man. I'm rather interested in seeing what happens when they make you angry," she said absently.

I frowned. "Who?"

"Pardon, dear?" she said with a quizzical expression.

"Who makes me angry?"

"Why I hope no one does. I think you have quite the temper hiding beneath your skin." And with that she was off again, strolling down the corridor. "I really must get to my studies, Lord Drake. Your cuendaran are training in Moiraine's room," she called out. My hearts, huh?

I shook my head and made my way up the gently curving ramp, and joined my wives, simply watching them work. At dinner Mat asked how meeting the king had been and I told my friends, while soldiers and sailors listened in, avidly. A number were surprised I had walked out of there alive, after telling the King I intended to take his throne. It made me feel better, talking over how everything had gone. It made me realize how well Moiraine and I had done.

That evening I was feeling good, as I worked with Ichyo and Lan inside Lan's room; the Shienaran once again repeated his feat of seizing saidin, summoning a flickering flame for five long seconds. Then he collapsed in fever the next day. The race against time, to train him before he died, had begun.

Chapter Text

Tamaz 8, 998 NE (July 14th)

I was already awake when Lan knocked on Min's door, unwilling to just barge in unlike Moiraine's room. I'd had another music dream; others surrounded me in a raucous massive tavern more like a cavern than any proper building, while music played, starting quiet and picking up, a strong drum and strange stringed instruments blaring behind a man's rugged voice.

Keep you in the dark
You know they all pretend
Keep you in the dark
And so it all began

Send in your skeletons
Sing as their bones go marching in again
They need you buried deep
The secrets that you keep are ever ready
Are you ready?

I'm finished making sense
Done pleading ignorance
That whole defense

Spinning infinity, boy
The wheel is spinning me
It's never-ending, never-ending
Same old story

What if I say I'm not like the others?
What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?
You're the pretender
What if I say I will never surrender?

I could already tell Moiraine would have a field day with the references to the Wheel of Time, and the endless cycle of the Ages, a pretender, and surrender. Plus, it was a catchy tune. I really needed to pick up a bittern and learn to play, since the strange instruments are like

"What if I say I'm not like the others? What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays? You're the pretender. What if I say I will never surrender?" I sang softly, to a sleepy Min, curled up cutely beside me.

"Don't go," she whined, clutching at my arm.

I bent down to kiss her. "I'll be back for lunch, then dinner." She hungrily encouraged the kiss, running a hand around my waist.

"Or you could skip and I could—"

Lan knocked once again. "I will come in there, scales."

I batted her hand away gently and got up, to a groan of displeasure. "I'm getting up, Lan," I called out. "I'm sorry, Min, but I need to train. I won't have near as much time as a king."

"Your loss, sheepherder," she pouted.

I put on my training clothes, and after a moment, stuck my tiger angreal in my pocket. You never know when it will be useful, I thought.

The farmer's field somewhere east of Whitebridge stretched out before Lan and I, bathed in the golden hues of the rising sun. The air was thick with the earthy scent of freshly turned soil, mingling with the sweet aroma of ripening corn. The sound of birdsong filled the air, mixing with the rhythmic thud of my feet against the ground. As I ran, the stalks brushed against my armor, like they were whispering secrets in their rustling wake. The weight of the armor pressed against my body, adding to the intensity of the workout, while beads of sweat trickled down my brow, a testament to my exertion. There was a sense of exhilaration in the challenge, as if the field itself was testing my limits.

"And what do you folks think you are doing?" a farmer, an older man with a straw hat, called out from the back of an old plow horse. "Trampling a man's cornfield? Dressed up like you're fighting a war? What sort of nonsense is this?"

"I am training my fellow Warder," Lan said idly, to the man's utter surprise. "The even rows make it a good spot for repetitive exercises, and simulating combat in hallways."

"You're a Warder? Aye, I can see the danger in your eyes." He spat off to the side. "Pah! Like I believe you. Warder! Foolish nonsense, you two must be bandits. Strange bandits, but bandits."

Lan pulled a purse from somewhere. "I'd like to rent your field for the morning."

The man snorted. "Definitely bandits." But he took the purse, and let us continue, watching from his horse. For another half hour I ran, before Lan stopped me. Then we sparred, Lan making us stop every time I nicked a plant or stepped too close to the stalks.

"You cannot swing your sword so wildly inside an enclosed space. You must learn to fight tightly," he told me, as our training blades locked. Then he kicked my leg out from under me, sending me sprawling. "And viciously," he finished, the tip of his blade at my throat.

We spent hours sparring in the cornfield, as the farmer, and then his family, three sons with their spouses, and four grandchildren, watched and cheered as I lost, over and over again, each time getting infinitesimally more skilled, quicker, more agile. After a while, the farmers started to believe we were actually Warders. By the time we returned to the Blue House for some rest before lunch, I was a sweaty mess, covered in bruises and welts.

Moiraine was waiting for us to return, a slip of creamy white paper in her hand. She raised eyebrow at the dirt we tracked in, before tsking, and embracing saidar, causing me to join her in the circle, as she wove a deft weave of yellow Air that sent the dirt flying out the window. "Next time, knock your boots off before you enter my room."

Then she approached me and gave me a kiss on the cheek that had me gasping as I felt a cold shock travel through me that seemed to last forever, and only a moment, before she stepped back and the soreness and tiredness was washed away. Amusement played a merry tune in the bond.

"Did you just… Heal me with a kiss?" I asked, incredulous.

The sound of her laughter was like the melodic tinkling of bells, and her eyes were bright."I have been exploring ways to express weaves throughout my body, and given the Healing requires a simple touch… I find, ever since I was bound to you my skills have improved, as has the deftness and ease with which I weave complicated flows of saidar, and even the amount of the One Power I can hold has increased." Her voice took on a more serious note. "If I am to protect you from Forsaken, misguided Aes Sedai and other threats that lie lurking, then I must become more powerful, more skilled."

I couldn't help the smile that broke across my face, feeling her protectiveness. "I need a protector, do I?"

"Of course. I am thinking six shall do. That should be enough women guarding you to keep you out of trouble," she said, sounding absolutely serious, though mirth bubbled in the bond. Then the seriousness came back, and she said, "I have some unsettling news about Ichyo. Come." I followed her to his room.

Channeling sickness. When someone untrained touches the True Source, there is a reaction. Days later, they experience a strange fever, rapid and powerful. This happens more and more swiftly until touching the True Source and the fever happen simultaneously, killing the wilder. That was the key point. It killed wilders, not channelers who were trained.

"We see this in the White Tower, sometimes," Moiraine told me quietly, as we stood by the bed of a groaning Ichyo burning with fever, "with girls who push themselves in private early on, their fumbling explorations enough to trigger whatever causes channeling sickness. It's not nearly as fatal for them as it is for wilders, but I expect your student will experience the fever at least twice more. That to be said, it still can be fatal. You need to begin training him more intensively, until he learns to channel naturally. You must push him."

"Should I expect this with Lan as well?"

"Absolutely not. If he is trying to touch the True Source without you, he would be a bigger fool than I had ever thought." Lan grunted affirmation from the corner of the room.

Ichyo moaned pitifully, his voice raspy, a moist towel on his forehead.

"Then it seems my morning practice must become channeling practice. I have no desire for Mikhael to learn I am teaching men to channel. I do not think Jadine Sedai would be willing to overlook it."

"Mmm, I would hope you would be aware enough not to do so, my Dragon."

After a lunch of fried fish and roasted vegetables, I took Lan to the Braem Woods and we headed south. For two hours Lan stalked me through the wood as I fought him off in running battles, trying to predict where he would come from next, trying and failing to trail him.

I was carefully moving through the underbrush like I could remember my father teaching when I stepped on a trap. The air became thick like jelly, binding my arms to my sides and my legs together, and a plug found itself in my mouth. Instantly, terror grasped me, even as for the briefest moments I wondered if it was Lan doing this.

I panicked and transformed into so'shan, and the bonds held. I breathed the Flame Imperishable, and the bonds held. In front of me of Door dimpled into existence, revealing a regal bedroom with the most beautiful woman in the world, shining brilliantly in a pure white and silver dress. The woman smiled at me, as she took a stepped through the Door. I recognized her. The Forsaken that had nearly killed me. That had attacked the boat, forcing us off the river Erinin.

I transformed into the so'gaighael and still the bonds held. I panicked further. I could hear Lan calling my name. Egwene's mood curdled to worry and anxiousness, and distantly I could feel Moiraine moving, cool calm in the bond, Min with her, distantly anxious. Moiraine was coming. If I could hold out long enough… Belatedly, I reached for saidin and let out a low moan around the gag when I felt the glass of the shield that held the burning light of the One Power from me.

"Lews, Lews, Lews," the Forsaken tsked. "Lews Therin Telamon. Whatever am I to do with you? Caught in a simple snare, like an initiate. Well, not too simple. I had to make sure the webs would adapt to your new… abilities. To think that the Last Chinnar'veren and the Dragon Reborn are the same man. Perhaps you will turn out to be those ocean rat's Coramoor, and the fabled Avatar of Semirhage's playthings as well. But what am I to do with you? The Great Fool in the Dark wants you turned, and if I were as loyal as I proclaim to be, I would have whisked you—Ah, no. No interruptions, please." Lan cursed, before his voice was muffled, and he joined me stiff armed and legged, bound by weaves of Air.

That wasn't my name. I may be the Dragon Reborn, but I am not him. I am myself; I am Rand al'Thor. And a fool. If I had thought there was a chance the woods were trapped, I could have used the Channelsight weave to find them. But I didn't even think. Fool. And now a woman who wanted to kill me has trapped me.

"Now where was I?" She gazed lovingly at me, enough to make me blush from the attention. She was truly beautiful, with a generous bosom that seemed to nearly fall out of her dress, and her hair adorned in moon and stars. If she is so evil, why does she have to be beautiful as well? Why couldn't she have been a hag? "If I was loyal, I would have whisked you away, to Shayol Ghul and your doom."

My heart froze. Suddenly, Lan and I began floating about a foot above the underbrush, moving forward and she began walking backwards, facing us. "Luckily for you, I am not loyal. I had a plan, you know. A simple, easy plan, to a simpler, easier time. A perfectly good one, and nearly flawlessly executed, but for one thing." Her warm voice grew cold. "Someone taught you to Skim and far more, surely, as I have never seen what you did with the lightning before. I'm certain I will not get a name from you, so I will not bother asking, but whichever of my brethren has betrayed the Great Lord will suffer greatly. Please do tell them that once you return. If you return."

No one taught me to Skim, to Travel through Darkspace. But she doesn't know that, won't believe that. Is there a way to turn this to my advantage?

Branches bent out of the way of me, but never for Lan, who had the suffer the indignity of being hit on the head more than once, as the Forsaken carried us through the woods in a southerly direction. Moiraine and Min were slowly but surely closing in, already feeling closer in the bond, while Egwene felt frantic and helpless, a mournful song in the bond.

"I almost completely forgot," the Forsaken said as she walked backwards, while behind her the underbrush bent out of her way, "I know you, of course, Lews Therin Telamon." That's not my name! "I could never forget you, but in this Age, you don't know me. I am Lanfear, greatest of the Chosen of the Great Lord of the Dark, and your only hope of survival. The only one who is truly looking out for you. Whatever a brother,"—and she spat that word—"of mine has told you to let him teach you, he will betray you. He is merely fattening you up like a pig for slaughter, teaching you just enough to eliminate his rivals, while still leaving him in control." Lanfear's eyes blazed with fury at the idea. "Who is it? Demandred? No, even he wouldn't stoop to this. Sammael? Be'lal? It might be the sort of trick Be'lal found funny. Surely not Asmodean, even he is not foolish as to…" She paused, then stared at me quizzically. "Does he sing, your teacher? Nod yes or no."

I wanted to laugh. My teacher was a woman, who sang beautifully when I could get her to. So I nodded yes. Let that set the fox amongst the hens. I held back a grin.

"Such insolence," she hissed. "To think he could ever be your better, your master." Her voice became softer, gentler. "Do not worry, Lews. Whatever bargain you have made with him, whatever vows, they will be broken. I will not let you become the patsy of a little worm like Jasin Natael." Then she attained a distant look, and one of hope. "You will stand by my side, one day. Stand at my side, by choice. Love me, by choice. With our power together, and those half-trained children that play at Aes Sedai taken throughly in hand, and a pair of sa'angreal, you and I could rule Creation." She sighed dreamily, giving me a smile that was so beautiful I nearly returned it on instinct alone. Keep your head, Rand. She may be beautiful but she is a Forsaken! She would surely kill you as kiss you. Listen to her, she's mad!

"But first, you must prove you can survive. Show, well… show me what Asmodean has taught you, sufficiently, and 'I' will let you return back to wherever you came from. It won't even take much time. Well, not much time in this world."

We had stopped before a massive stone column covered in strange curved writing and faded glyphs.

"This is a portal stone. It can take you to many places thought unimaginable, to a myriad of worlds more or less out of step with Creation. Where days would pass there, only hours would pass here, or vice versa. Some a pale, muddled reflections and others as crisp and clear as fine glass. The one you, and the poor bond-slave of that child, will be travelling to was going to be a relatively spare and faded world, nearly dead. But you ruined my plans and so plans change. If only Asmodean hadn't taught you to Skim, I would have had the perfect opportunity to insert myself at your side. Now you will go to a Mirror World closer to this one. A world that needs a Dragon it will never get, for he died squalling on a mountain, frozen to death."

She placed us next to the pillar and released our bonds. Our gags went next, and as I felt a chill in the air and a strange pulling sensation. I shouted, "I have two teachers," much to Lanfear's surprise. And then there was a sickening twist, and a sensation of lights flashing, as Lan and I were hurtled from this reality and into a forest much the same, only Lanfear was missing and it was night.

Strange rustles sounded in the underbrush of the clearing, and there was a rancid smell in the air, a perfume of flowers and rotten fruit and meat gone bad. I lit the surroundings with a bright torchflame, and Lan hissed as I stared in shock. The trees surrounding us rustled and creaked, branches bearing putrid fruits inching away from the flame, and something insectile the size of a small dog chittered in the brush before racing away. Sickly looking plants grew strangely meaty-looking flowers, and from far off we could hear a barking cough of some strange creature hunting in the night, and the screams of its prey. Somehow, someway, we were in the Blight, with no supplies and no backup.

The moment Moiraine realized the faint panic and terror that they surely both felt, far to the north and east—somewhere in the Braem Woods, Rand had said—wasn't stopping, she paused the lesson with Min and made a Door to Travel. Verin Sedai looked flabbergasted at the action and asked, "Whatever are you doing, Moiraine?" as the two women strode quickly inside, not deigning to answer.

Moiraine did not wince as the Door nearly sliced off Min's rear, causing the young woman to let out a yelp and jump back, but it was a close thing. Already the platform they stood on—a stone rose—moved through the darkness, the absence, at speed, but how fast Moiraine did not know. As fast as possible, for even Lan feels a growing distress. I knew I should have counseled him to go somewhere else. That the Forsaken may be watching the Braem Woods.

It would not be fast enough though. Fifteen minutes into their journey, which would take three quarters of an hour, both men felt a moment of absolute terror, and then the bond seemed to fade until she could merely tell they were both north of her and more distant than she could ever imagine, and moving swiftly. She could not feel their feelings, she could not sense their health, it was as if they had vanished. Her mind rung with the loss like the clanging of a clarion bell. They… he… couldn't just be gone. The shock caused the platform to flicker for the barest of seconds, before Moiraine let go of her feelings and focused once more. There would be time to worry and mourn if needs be later. For now, I must keep calm.

Min let out a gasp, and tears came to her eyes, as she turned to Moiraine, distraught. "He's not dead, is he?"

Moiraine shook her head and said softly. "No, they are not dead. We would know the reason and the moment it happened. Lan and Rand both have disappeared though."

Min seemed to wait for more, and when none came, she grew angry. "Well, you're the Aes Sedai! What happened? How did they just disappear?"

"I do not know anymore than you do, child." She said the word deliberately. Let the girl be angry at me, rather than mournful at the loss of our Rand. "The White Tower and Aes Sedai do not know all."

Min muttered and paced the platform as they drew ever closer to where Rand and Lan last were. Finally, the sense of movement stopped. They had arrived.

The entire trip she had been speculating, theorizing, and the only thing she could think of was a Forsaken. Somehow, someway a Forsaken had taken her two Warders from her, and for that, they would pay. If the Pattern was on their side, it would only be a single Forsaken.

She prepared her angreal—the robed woman—and her ter'angreal. The wide belt of moonstone carved with gentle waves was a well, filled to the brim with enough saidar to burn a city. She filled it thrice a day since learning what it was. The intricate silvery mesh gloves connected by bands of strange leather to bracers of ivory and silver, was some kind of shield called a varnaetha, meant to protect against weaves for a time—it had taken Verin Sedai minutes to break it down, but that was with weaves not meant for direct harm. And last, but certainly not least, the golden hairnet adorned with strange symbols shaped like circles, with bulbous tops and a line angled far to the right, and sapphires glittering in the Door's light; the celersouvra increased Moiraine's focus and magnified her reaction time. It caused the world to seem to move in slow motion when she channeled a relatively simple weave of Spirit, Air and Fire into the ter'angreal.

Meanwhile, Min adjusted her necklace, where her own angreal lay—beads of dark green malachite threaded with intricate designs in gold of mandalas—as she stared out into the darkness. Finally, Moiraine was ready. She embraced saidar, pulling deep as she dared, and then a step more. She felt no tingling warning of danger, so she pulled one step further, before pulling deep on her angreal and turning to Min, holding out a hand. "We'll rescue him. Together, as sister-wives, and whoever stole our Warder away, whichever Forsaken trapped our Dragon, will pay dearly for their hubris."

Min nodded and took her hand, shaking a little. She was a brave girl, Moiraine could not deny that. It wasn't necessary for the linking of the Circle, but it seemed to make it easier on Min. She could feel Min's worry, Min's fear, her sense of helplessness, all nestled in a tight ball in the back of her mind, and Min could feel Moiraine just as much. There was no helping it, for that was what a circle was; opening yourself up to someone else, fully, completely. So it surprised her, when Min suddenly began feeling trust, but she did not comment on it. It did not matter. Min had pulled as much as she ever had, and then pulled more with the angreal. Moiraine was filled with saidar near to bursting, so much saidar and all under her control. Life filled her and it made the emptiness of Darkspace even more apparent, the strange lack of feeling and sounds and temperature.

She did not ask Min if she was ready. Moiraine could feel Min's readiness in the bond. Their feelings seemed to flow back and forth, matching each other in harmony, any discordant notes smoothing out. She opened a Door to a clearing, and the two women rushed out, hand-in-hand to find a triumphantly smiling beautiful woman with hair black as midnight cascading down her back, adorned with silver moons and stars. Lan described the woman he saw as a dark-haired beauty above all beauties with jewelry in her hair, with the same dress as she. The Forsaken.

Then there was shock in her eyes, though she had to have known the two were coming, as Moiraine parted the quick overwhelming gout of fire sent almost perfunctory by the Forsaken with a slice of Air followed by her activating the celersouvra, and the battle began in earnest. Shock appeared on the Forsaken's face at the sight of the ter'angreal activating. Time slowed to a crawl, as Moiraine wove a dozen of bolts of lightning in the air around the woman before reaching down below with Earth and Fire. The Forsaken was already moving to slice the lightning that surrounded her, distracted her, as the ground erupted beneath her feet, while Moiraine had already moved on to catching her in bonds of Air, as the Forsaken's legs slowly erupted in a gory mess of blood and flesh and shattered bone. As she bled dangling above the steaming ground—the patterns in the mist and blood spray almost mesmerizing at this speed—Moiraine was already putting a shield on her, sliding into place with only a modicum of effort and cutting the woman's considerable power off. More powerful than Moiraine was, by herself, certainly. Without Min, her angreal may not have been enough.

Min began to slowly vomit, as Moiraine let go of her hand and strode her body in slow motion for what seemed like a minute, to the dying woman. There was a look of absolute hatred and absolute shock that warred with each other in slow waves. Moiraine reached out to Heal just enough that the Forsaken would not die on the spot. Anything more would be too close to mercy for her right then.

Then she untied the weave that powered the celersouvra, and a blinding headache suddenly pummeled the inside of her skull, causing her to stumble, and nearly fall to the ground. Her brain felt sore, somehow. The Circle collapsed and saidar fled her like a retreating tide. For a long moment she couldn't even see, there was just pain and soreness and bright flaring light that rung in her ears.

Her hearing came back to, "So the clever half-trained wilder bitch isn't used to a celersouvra hangover, is she?" the woman spat, her voice dripping with disdain.

Moiraine stubbornly managed to raise an eyebrow. Her husband used that word sometimes when complaining about Lan's practice schedule. It was a crude word, supposedly. Meant to be demeaning to women. So even though she had a terrible headache and her husband was stolen by this wench, she would not stand for rudeness. She slapped the woman across the face, hard. The sound was like a whip crack. A delicate red hand was imprinted on the woman's cheek.

"You dare slap the face of me? Lanfear, Daughter of the Night? When I am free, you will rue the day your mother, the slattern she must have been, was born. When my reinforcements arrive, they will bury you alive, and leave you dying slowly enough for Lews Therin Telamon to find. If he returns. Let us see if Asmodean has taught him true Healing or that lennito'shuk you call Healing."

Moiraine let Lanfear talk while the headache rapidly receded until she could finally think straight again and embraced saidar. Then having made sure the shield held, she turned away from Lanfear without a word, sticking a plug of Air in her mouth, leaving the woman to sputter before checking on Min. The brave young sister-wife of hers was wiping her mouth with a handkerchief, stepping gingerly around a pile of vomit. Her face was pale now, but she no longer looked green around the gills.

"You did well, Min. A little vomit is nothing to be ashamed of."

"It all happened so fast, Moiraine Sedai. And I… I did nothing."

"You did exactly what you needed."

The words seem to spill from her mouth "I was useless. You were so fast, so effortless, so… terrifying. And what am I? Some girl you picked up at the White Tower who sees strange things and can still barely do half a dozen weaves. What use am I against Forsaken, then just to stand there while you do all the work?" There was a resignation in Min's voice that Moiraine found utterly unlike the girl and clued her into how serious this was. Rand's loss must be hitting her harder than I thought. At the thought of Rand her heart clenched with sorrow, before she re-entrenched her will and calmed herself.

Before she could speak, though, something seemed to change about the girl, there was a certain energy to her, a ripple underneath her skin, and then all of a sudden Min was different. She still stood the same height but two bronze horns rose up from her brow, and between them lay a glowing red third eye. In fact, all three of Min's eyes were now red and slitted like a cat. Her mouth was open in shock, to reveal sharp fangs. Her arms up to her elbow were sheathed in gauntlets of purple and green scale, fingers ending in sharp hook claws, and a red jewel lay inset on her clavicle, glowing softly.

Moiraine instantly knew what had happened—somehow the child had triggered the awakening of her shapechanging—and she took her sister-wife in a hug, squeezing her tight before stepping back and staring her straight in her… honestly mesmerizing eyes. The crimson shade goes well with her dark hair and—Moiraine stopped herself and focused.

"Oh, Min. You were not useless. Not useless at all. She is powerful, more powerful than either you or I. But working together we are more than her. Together, Min. And you will grow in time and practice until you can match me. I am certain. Whatever the Binder did to you, in those awful minutes, it gave you a strong spark. It simply takes time, Min, dear."

She nodded, sniffling, blinking her third eye slowly. "What happened? Why am I like this? Why do I…" she abruptly trailed off, shutting her mouth.

Moiraine thought about how to explain it delicately. "Min, you are chinnar'veren. All the sister-wives are. But you must… need the change greatly before it happens. Most often it happens in times of great trauma or desire, or so I have read. You must have felt the need strongly for it to happen."

Min nodded slowly. "So, basically, I needed to be better than I was, and now I am? Rand says his channeling is more powerful in the so'shan, and he can breathe his Flame. And before you ask, I know what I can do."

Moiraine raised an eyebrow.

"My new eye sees… things. The future, but not what is, it sees what could be. It shows me what your answer is before I finish asking the question. But my head is starting to hurt, and my third eye feels a little strained. I think I can only do it so many times." The eye closed. "And then there's the fact I think I can move things with my mind, now."

"Demonstrate, please."

A twig broke off a nearby tree and moved jerkily through the air.

There was no weave that held it, nothing Moiraine could see, anyway. It simply moved through the air. "Astounding, Min. Truly. I wonder how much you can move at a time. We shall endeavor to test your abilities, with Verin Sedai, of course. I think she might actually harm me if I didn't let her study you. And do you have fire?"

Min opened her mouth wide and seemed to make an effort, but nothing came out. She shook her head, "No, no fire. Seeing the future, and moving things with my mind seem to be the powers of my dragon."

"And they will be quite useful. Now, do you think you can change back?"

Min nodded, "I think I can," and did so after about fifteen seconds of concentration. "Where's Rand going?"

Both her warders had picked up speed since Lanfear sent them away, whoever took them speeding far faster than a horse could gallop in a meandering pattern northward towards Tar Valon, stopping for at most ten seconds, before continuing onward.

"North, to Tar Valon most likely. And we shall do the same once we finish with the woman who calls herself Lanfear." Min shivered at the cold tone in her voice. "Now I must be quick about this, so it will be a bit rougher than normal. My sister-wife, if you would like to watch?"

Min looked green, and Moiraine had to hold back from laughing. "It is nothing so crude as what you think. It is simply a weave over-powered to the point that I could cause harm."

"What kind of weave?"

"This affects the mind, encouraging the… victim to view me as a person of authority, and my suggestions in a better light. Usually I use it subtly, but for now I require a hammer to crack Lanfear open."

Soon words were spilling from Lanfear's mouth, after the screams stopped.

Days 1-36 in the Blighted Westlands

The very first thing I tried was a Door, which instead of tearing open a black rectangle of space, fizzled like a sparkler. Things didn't really look up from there. The trees had some kind of network, or passed messages somehow, because they learned to stay away after only a day of my Flame burning their grasping branches and hidden maws. But then the trees gradually thinned out and turned into a nightmarish version of the Caralain Grass, with its own unique dangers. Whatever road that had existed had been wiped out in the expansion of the Grass, and we saw no signs of civilization but for the Wall.

The trees didn't light up like firewood, or burn to ashes like shadowspawn, they slowly roasted, whatever of the Shadow in them not enough to simple breathe dragonfire and be done with it. Indeed, it seemed the life of the Blight had varying resistances to my Flame. Some, like the massive, horrible bugs the size of hounds, could almost ignore it, if they were brave enough or suicidal enough to try. Didn't stop our heron-mark blades from slicing through their chitin like butter. Others, like the strange gelatinous slimes of inky black that hung from tree branches waiting to drop on unsuspecting prey, burnt like a merry bonfire when my dragonfire touched them. Still others, the mutant forest life, herbivores and scavengers turned carnivorous and strange, only our swords were reliable, and my channeling, and even that became suspect, later.

Lan theorized the more the Shadow was bound in the creation of such creatures, the more they burned in my dragonfire. He had lots of theories, about what happened to this world, and where we needed to go—Tar Valon of course—and why we shouldn't trust Lanfear to ever actually return us. With no food, and only the surrounding Blight with its poison gifts, an unsettled Lan put forward that very first night my flame could not just burn, but imbue.

"If it is truly a spark of the Flame Imperishable of the Creator, as you claim, surely it does more than destroy. The Creator built the Wheel of Time. His flame must do more than destroy. Purify that fruit," he said, pointing a putrid-smelling yellow fruit, spiky and shaped like a squash about the length of my forearm, that hung from the quivering branch of a nearby tree I had recently burnt into submission. "And if that works, then we can try other plants."

I focused not on destroying, but purifying, revealing the true act of Creation that lay behind this chaotic mess of a fruit. I held the Flame in my mouth, focusing on a sense of cleanliness, and could almost feel my dragonfire soften. Gently, I blew a stream of rainbow fire gently up and down the fruit and it seemed to melt, dripping a waxy black substance that evaporated as it dropped, until underneath it all was a healthy sized pale green pear hanging from the tree. Lan had quickly plucked it and sliced it in two with his belt knife, before handing it to me. We dug in and ate our fill of pears and apples that hour, before that barking cough started up again, nearer to us, and we moved.

From then on we harvested what we could from the land, mushrooms, wild carrots and potatoes, berries and fruit of all kinds, nuts and even the flesh of some animals. Corrupted bears, bearing strange mutations, wandered the woods, but their meat purified all the same. Same with the carnivorous goat and sheep, strangely serpentine, with baleful red eyes and fangs. They did not burn well in my dragonfire, but the One Power dealt with them just as easily. Massive roosters—scaly and reptilian with a pair of tiny grasping arms—the size of a wagon. That made good eating for a couple days, but we never saw more than five and only killed two, the others running off, thundering through the woods, or across the grasslands.

We slept rough, unwilling to drag bear furs in the heat, and made our way out of a much larger Braem Woods and into this world's version of the Caralain Grass. Great herds of horses roamed the Grass, content to eat the mildly tainted grass that sometimes gleamed an oily black in the sun, and only seemed to bother with us when we got too close, revealing sharp teeth and clawed feet that showed the difference between this world and our own. From there it became harder to forage, but Lan still found enough to carry us forward. Sometimes we saw large oxen off in the distance, too large on the horizon to be anything normal.

The problem was the strangely shaped wolves that stood on two legs, with equal amounts of fur and scale, massive reptilian tails and the terrifying sickle shaped claws on their two paws. The Flame Imperishable burnt them alive but still they attacked with such savagery that I was glad Lan stood by my side. They were terrifying, the wolflizards, and terrifyingly smart. They would surround us, try to separate us, but Lan did not let them do so often, cutting them down relentlessly as I burned them. They hunted in packs of six or fewer, thankfully, but they hunted the Caralain Grass relentlessly, and there practically wasn't a day where we didn't have a pack trailing us, or squabbling with another pack over us, when they weren't stalking the herds of horses. We had to kill them every time they showed up, or we couldn't risk sleep. They loved to attack at night; we learned that the hard way.

Lan had shaken me awake, as the surrounding grass rustled with movement. We had finally entered the Caralain Grass early that morning, and the pond we stopped at formed a clearing about ten paces across, giving me just barely enough time to grasp the shape leaping out of the tall grass before my instincts told me to transform.

With a roar as so'gaighael, ten feet tall and bare naked scales, I stood up and let out a burst of flame, lighting the creature afire as it landed on my chest and shoulder and began snarling, biting my face, with surprisingly tough claws ringing against my scales and leaving scratches. As the creature burned, I could see the slavering jaws of a dog or wolf, furred, with a hint of scale beneath, teeth scraping and grinding against my more tender facial scales and getting close to my eyes, so I panicked.

I ripped the creature off my face with a sharp tug of pain, as a scale came loose under its less-than-gentle ministrations. More shocked than actually hurt, I stomped on the strange creature, with its canine features, and grasping clawed hands, and lizard tail, and body plan more like a flightless bird than any wolf or lizard. I stomped hard, shattering its chest and the rest burnt merrily.

And then another wolflizard was on my back, ripping chunks of hair out, its sickle-claws tearing at my back. I fling myself backward onto the muddy bank of the pond, snapping its back. It howled piteously, unable to move, half sunk into the mud. Lan was surrounded by three dead wolflizards, though his side was dark with blood. I waited a moment, but nothing moved in the dark. Seizing the One Power, I went to the Warder's side, and Healed a deep slicing cut that nearly spilled Lan's guts out.

"I need to learn how to do that, sooner than later, scales."

"If enough attacks like this happen, you'll learn as quickly as you need to. I promised Moiraine I wouldn't teach you anything, and what I'm doing now skirts the meaning if not the words of that promise. I cannot do more."

Lan grunted and stretched his body, touching the scar where the cut used to be. We didn't sleep any longer that night, moving through the tall grass, every rustle and movement causing me to twist or flinch. I did not leave so'gaighael until the sun rose. I thanked the Creator the grass, though thick and tall and rough, was not particularly imbued with the evil my Flame burned, and I only had to kill a few errant smoldering grass fires each time the wolf-lizards attacked.

Lan theorized they hunted us by our channeling, and channeling less did seem to make it take longer before another pack found us, but channeling was how we drank water, and set our campfires, and ease various other tasks, so there was no stopping it. Their distant fluted howls and barks echoing melodically across the Grass kept me up some nights, and I had nightmares of waking up with my guts strewn like garters, a wolflizard looking down on me, muzzle red and dripping. I had seen what they did to their own kind.

Every night, even on the Grass, I worked with Lan on saidin. Within the first week as we moved through the Braem Woods, he channeled saidin, just a tiny flickering flame, dancing in the air in front of him. I had promised I wouldn't teach him more, to Moiraine, and so I didn't, but that did not stop Lan from picking up how to use the torchflame, or other simple weaves I used throughout the day from watching me. I ended up helping him with his finesse, giving him lessons for control and speed, and showing him how to weave a thread into his power-wrought sword correctly so he could use it to its full potential. I used some of my simpler weaves in combat, and Lan picked those up after a few days of watching as well, flinging bolts of fire and lightning from one hand as he cut through whatever bizarre animal accosted us with the other. May Moiraine forgive me for failing to hold on to the spirit of that promise, but we did not know when we were getting out of here, and it was the Blight.

The strangest part of the whole journey was never encountering Trollocs, or Myrddraal, or Draghkar. There were no familiar shadowspawn in this world, simply bizarre and terrifying animals twisted by the Shadow. Seeing a sheep's jaw open like that, revealing a gullet big enough to swallow a head… It was enough to make a man shiver. Gunk-spewing snails the size of ponies, giant dragonflies that swooped and dove and turned on a dime, hunting prey that included human flesh, and the disconcerting sight of a strangely insectile deer chewing on a bird whole. Life in the Blight was florid and violent.

Then there was the Wall. We started seeing it shine on the horizon on the thirteenth day, a pure white line etched below Dragonmount. The Wall grew closer while Dragonmount was still far distant, and one day Lan studied the Wall, as we got the closest we had ever seen it, a wide patch of ash abutting it. I could barely make out the movement of tiny figures. Lan could presumably see more.

"No gate and the Blight is burnt a hundred feet from the wall. This is a wall meant to keep something out. We need to find a gate, then we can sneak in. As we are now, we're too suspicious."

"Makes sense. Tar Valon doesn't want the Blight on their land. If we could find a bloody road that would be nice, too."

We cut across the River Erinin to dodge the Wall, moving north-east through the Grass, until copses and wood began to appear, Blight things, but sources of fruits and nuts with my Flame. I had been dying for an apple. The Wall grew ever closer on our left even as we headed north-east, shining brightly in the sun. Gradually we left the hunting packs of wolflizards behind, suffering other beasts instead; mossy landcrabs the size of horses, insectile chittering deer, their prongs antenna and black compound eyes that glitter like stars, wasps the size of cantaloupes whose sting burned like a thousand fires.

And then, on the thirty-sixth day of being stuck in this blighted world—when Dragonmount, covered in a virulent rainbow of twisted foliage but for its forbidding smoking black peak, dominated the horizon with the belt of the Wall around it—we somehow met a woman. The first living person we had seen, and it was a woman who looked akin to a younger sister of Lanfear, riding a white horse with silvered saddle, and whose voice, though younger, was an exact match for Lanfear's. The only reason I didn't immediately do anything was the fact her hands were up in surrender. One woman had already tried to kill me. Who knew what this one would do?

"I surrender, Lews Therin Telamon." My mouth opened in shock. Surrender? Lews Therin? Is she insane?

"My name is Rand al'Thor," is what I bit out. "Who exactly are you?"

She ignored that. "I see you are confused. I am the Lanfear of this Mirror World. I have watched you for weeks, first in shock, then in awe at your gifts. Clearly someone has been teaching you, if you can channel Fire in such a way as the burn out the corruption of the Great Lord. I won't ask who. I can guess, though. Aginor would not be pleased, but it was his fault half the world is like this, anyway. Him and the Aes Sedai with their damn Wall, spreading their Little Towers like mushrooms sprouting after a hard rain and entrenching themselves. Saldaea, Almothi, Arad Doman and Tarabon, and even Ghealdandor, in the Two Rivers. Though I suppose I shouldn't complain, I am one of them now, ostensibly."

A White Tower, in the Two Rivers? Mirror World? Wall? Aes Sedai built that thing? I burnt the errant thoughts. It did not matter right now. This was a Forsaken, giving herself willingly to me. Absolutely a trick and I needed to be careful. I glanced at Lan, who stood rigid with his hand on his hilt. Lanfear was almost within the length of his sword. Another step…

"And why should I not burn you where you stand?" I asked. "You should ask Ba'alzamon what happened when I met him last."

She looked prideful. "Because I know what my sisters want to do with you. That is information you need to know. Games are afoot, prophecy abounds, Lews Therin. Your fate hangs in the balance, and any false step could send you down the wrong path. You need someone to guide you. Someone like me."

"I am not Lews Therin, I'm Rand al'Thor."

"Then answer our questions. What happened here? How did the Blight reach so far south?" Lan demanded.

She took a step closer, away from her horse. "Aginor infected the land near Tar Valon, and its been slowly spreading over the centuries. Andor was lost seventy-five years ago last Aine. Of the Borderlands, only Saldaea exists in any meaningful way, standing strong while the rest of the Borderlands have fallen to the encroachment of the Blight. With the Wall on its southern border, it marks the farthest north human civilization has survived."

I was baffled. "Centuries? What happened, how did you get free?"

To her credit she answered freely. It was not a very happy answer to hear though. "When the infant Dragon Reborn died on Dragonmount, something broke in the prison holding us, and we became free. Free and with prophecy irrevocably broken, the Great Lord lying forever trapped in His prison, we spread across the world and attended to our desires and advanced our plans and for a good decade we had free reign of the world, living lives in the shadow of the Third Age. Then Aginor's latest creations, at the time, broke containment."

"You've met them, the shaeraptar, the unsettling bestial things that hunt channelers. Far too smart, and it turned out they liked Trolloc nearly as much as they like channelers and horses, only they were carrying a disease, a disease that, while easily beatable by the shaeraptar, spread slowly through the Trollocs. It started with a debilitating cough and ended with weeping blood from all orifices. It took weeks for it to show, sometimes, and by the time Aginor realized he had a ghraem'bokhen, a plague on his hands, it was too late. It would take years, but eventually the disease, the Red Sickness, would spread across the Blight, killing every single Trolloc. Aginor tried to make more, but they died too. Later, he and Ishamael managed to kill each other, and the secret to making Trollocs was lost."

Lan and I stood rapt in attention at the strange story of why there were no shadowspawn to be seen. The Trollocs all died, and with them died the Myrddraal. I wonder if it infected the Draghkar, too?

"In his rage, and the madness he had gained since being imprisoned, he blamed it on the Tar Valon witches, and retaliated without notifying any of the Chosen. By the time any of us noticed, it was too late. Two of his creations, his Seeders, had died in Shienar and Kandor respectively, spreading the Blight with their dying actions, causing turmoil and destruction and the slow end of the Borderlands, but a third survived its journey through Arafel and crossed the empty spaces between the Borderlands and Tar Valon, before it died of exhaustion and starvation, the creature never given a mouth to eat, nor meant to survive. With its death the Blight bloomed once more on the face of the world, this time close enough to be seen from the top of the White Tower, if barely."

"Centuries have passed since that day. Despite the Wall and the Burners, despite Aes Sedai and Kin, despite the Grand Alliance, despite all efforts of mankind, the Blight continues to advance westward and southward, slowly, but surely. Greater Illian borders the Blight now, their reach extending to the old nation of Murandy, and Altara, while Imperial Tear holds as far as southern Cairhien and Far Madding. The thankfully slow advance of the Blight has given much of humanity a chance to… reorganize under the Chosen that survived the free-for-all after Ishamael's and Aginor's death, while the White Tower controls the four 'free' kingdoms; Saldaea, Arad Doman, Almothi and Tarabon. I, of course, do not need to play around playing an immortal king or queen, like Sammael, Be'lal, Demandred or Semirhage. I am content to be an Aes Sedai again, even if the women of this Age are truly snooty bitches. Running my own Tower is power enough."

It was all a bit much, what the centuries had wrought on the Westlands—a fate that only through sheer luck we avoided—but she seemed pleased to brag about this to me, so I forced a smile, and said, "Oh? Where is your Tower? That must be a prestigious position," even as I prepared a shield for her, seizing saidin and drinking as deep as I dared, feeling a tingle of warning that I was about to exceed my limits.

She actually blushed. "Oh, it is nothing compared to my work in the Second Age, but molding young minds has been surprisingly fulfilling. You'd be surprised what they can come up with when taught to be properly innovative, rather than the nonsense Ishamael had encouraged. Saldaean Tower Aes Sedai are whispered to be even more powerful than White Tower Aes Sedai, and I am their Keeper. I think you would actually quite like it there, Lews." She pursed her lips and examined me and Lan. "We do have a problem though. Two men, appearing out of the Blighted Grass, without horses and only the clothes on their back will not be allowed inside the Walls without a thorough interrogation. Not unless they arrive with me, the Keeper of the Saldaean Tower, and even then that would be commented upon. None are free of suspicion in this benighted Age."

As Lan asked another question, I pulled on the tiger angreal that l had absent-mindedly taken with me, thank the Pattern, holding enough One Power to alert a male Forsaken, or a Fade, within twenty miles, if any still existed with the Trollocs dying off. Still, this Lanfear did not seem to notice, and I slammed the shield down on her active connection to the One Power. There was a brief moment of struggle, but I battered and overwhelmed the woman with my will, and my angreal. Light, I did it! I thought, triumphantly.

"Is that any way to treat a woman who surrendered to you?" was all that Lanfear said, sounding so righteously indignant that I doubt myself for a moment, before I frowned at her. How dare she act like she doesn't deserve this?

I sneered. "You are a Forsaken. I should have shielded you the instant I saw you. Now, you will get us inside this Wall, and into the White Tower. They have to know something about how to return us, what that stone column was."

The woman actually gave a sniff. It was like she didn't realize her position. "But that's what I am here for. If my sister didn't, I was supposed to pick you up and return you two weeks ago, but you've been so fascinating to watch I simply couldn't help it. My sister sent you away using a portal stone, of which there is one on the grounds of the White Tower, locked away. I was going to lead you there, anyway, as soon as you bind me. I am your Enemy." She said the last part with a coy smile, and a wink, thrusting her chest forward.

My heart stuttered. Was Lanfear truly the Enemy? She was beautiful, and my enemy, but the Binder did not come calling around either Lanfear. No, she is trying to trick me, I thought, trying to make me doubt. But Min never mentioned a beautiful raven-haired woman. She said the last three were Elayne, a woman who looks like my cousin, looks Aiel, and a svelte dark-skinned woman with no hair. "I think not. But how do you know about that? You shouldn't know."

"Your Aes Sedai thinks her wards are unbeatable. My sister found them child's play to get around when she deigned to, and heard quite interesting conversations before you fled her grasp. Bind me, Rand al'Thor, as your Enemy and I will tell you everything I know, assist you in any way possible. Any way." Her smile became lascivious. "Even more than the Aes Sedai does, and certainly more than that prudish woman with the poor fashion sense."

I didn't need Lan's dead-eyed stare to know it was some kind of trap. So instead of saying anything, I did what I'd done for weeks now, and transformed into so'gaighael, the hulking Battlebeast form standing head and shoulders above a suddenly worried Lanfear. This close to her, I could see a strange black cord coming from her back that seemed to disappear into the distance, tying her to something.

"What are you—"

I gathered my dragonfire in my mouth and softened the Flame Imperishable into a purifying fire, and blew gently.

She still screamed. Oh, did she scream, each ragged sound tearing at my heart and begging me to stop, as black waxy tendrils leaked from her eyes and nose and the sides of her mouth, evaporating and leaving a slight scalding as they left. But I kept blowing until angry red welts ran down her face and I felt something snap within her, the cord disappearing, and then the flame did no more harm, instead soothing her welts and her singed soul, leaving scars. The whole process took nearly half a minute and most of my dragonfire, leaving my throat hot and raspy, but when it was done, her screams petered out to simple sobs, then silence. Lan looked as calm and cold as can be, staring stonily at the Forsaken.

Before me Lanfear trembled on the ground, surrounded by fresh green grass. She no longer looked young, whatever trickery that had persisted past her shielding could not withstand the purifying fire of the Flame Imperishable. She was mature, in full blossom rather than the flower bud I can see she was before. Pink scars lined her face, down from the sides of her mouth, down from her nose across her lips, and down from her eyes. Still the Binder did not come to my hand. Not without me desiring it.

She was not the Enemy. She was not even an enemy anymore, really. I had burned the Shadow out of her body; I think I did, at least. Cut something that connected to the Shadow. Taken her mask away. Scarred her, body and soul.

"What did you do to me?" she mumbled, and then stared at me forlornly. "You cut me off. How did you cut me off? I cannot feel Him anymore." She laughed, sudden and brokenly. "I'm dead. You've killed me. He will never suffer me to live after this, nor will my sisters, once they learn. I'm dead."

I grimaced, but steeled myself. I needed to be hard, I could not let her sway me. This was a Forsaken, a woman who had betrayed humanity, betrayed the Creator, and would easily betray me. "Your only choice is to join my side and repent for your endless sins by doing good for the world. What I did to you, I could do to any of your… sisters, and your fellow Forsaken as well. You may be the first, but I feel assured in saying you won't be the last."

Lanfear stared defiantly for a long moment, before crumpling. After a long minute of staring at the ground, she looked up again, and it was like she had never screamed or cried or sobbed. As if this were a negotiation rather than an ultimatum. "Very well, at least I will stand by your side, Lews Therin Telamon, until the end. I suppose I can live with your other wives, now that I am at your mercy. You are lucky I am this magnanimous. Any other Forsaken would deny your offer, spitting defiantly until the end, but if this is the way I must have you, then take it I will." It was like the yapping of a small dog, trying to prove its bravery.

The Binder—decorated with three strange dragons that appeared lifelike and moving—now appeared eager in my hand, yet I felt no heat or warmth, just cool wood. Somehow, I could tell it wasn't ready to bind a woman to my heart, and that instead it operated like a normal Oath Rod, where channeling into the number activated it, and whoever swore on it was bound to their oaths.

Lanfear's eyes sparkled. "Oh, Lews, is that… is that the Binder?" She teared up a little.

I squirmed, uncomfortable with the emotional vulnerability that Lanfear was showing, though not with tricking her, but I nodded and held it out.

"You really mean it?"

I waited a moment longer before nodding.

Lan spoke up. "Before we get ahead of ourselves, we've got to decide the Oaths. The first must naturally be to obey the Dragon Reborn and his Dragonwives."

"And to do no harm, but to Darkfriends and shadowspawn," I added.

"And of course, to speak no word that is not true. She'll have to learn to make the truth dance like a true Aes Sedai, and we can pull everything out of her before then," Lan finished up, to Lanfear's look of disgust, with a final oath befitting of someone like her.

I grinned. "That sounds good to me, Lan Gaidin."

"Not three, Lews. Please, not three. You'll cut my lifespan in half and make me little better than the White Tower fools that still using the Oath Rod. I'll be middle-aged."

"My name is Rand. Get that through your thick skull, Lanfear. And I honestly didn't know that about the Oath Rod. Still, I don't care."

"Rand," she said on hands and knees. "Please, just one oath. I can handle losing a quarter of my life."

I took a step back, out of the way of grasping hands. "No, three is a solid number. Now stand back up and take the Binder."

For a long minute she remained on hands and knees, offering secrets and riches and power, in exchange for a single oath. I flatly ignored her. When I growled, she startled, and flinched when her glance caught the embers of rainbow fire filling my sharp-toothed maw, crawling back a couple paces. I didn't feel great about scaring a woman like that, but it got her to stand up.

I transformed back into a simple man, and Lanfear finally approached. As she took the Binder in hand, I channeled a tendril of Spirit into the number. The Binder softly glowed, and she suddenly stood rigid, as if a heavy weight pressed down on her.

With gritted teeth she said, "I swear to obey the Dragon Reborn and his Dragonwives." The weight pressed further. "I swear to do no harm, but to Darkfriends and shadowspawn." She winced and grunted, staggering a little. "I swear to speak no word that is not true." And then it was over, the light faded from the Binder and Lanfear panted as if she had run a dozen miles in the heat of summer. As she stood there, I unwove the shield, and she glanced up at me before I felt the goosebumps of saidar being embraced. Dirt and dust shook itself from clothes, and in an instant she looked younger once more, with no pink scars.

As she made to speak, I interrupted her with her first order. "You are to treat al'Lan Mandragoran, the man beside me and my Dragonwife Moiraine's warder, as if he were Moiraine herself. He speak in her voice."

Lanfear nodded slowly, confusion in her eyes. "You did not bind me as an Enemy, did you? I feel no bond."

I smiled toothily. "I bound you, alright, and you are certainly my enemy, but you are not the Enemy and you never were. There will be no bond. You will work to pay off your debt to humanity, teaching my wives everything they need to know about the One Power, teaching me relevant information about the Forsaken, and whatever other jobs I can find you useful for. That is it. You will never share my bed or my heart."

Lanfear appeared almost quizzical, staring at me, as if my words did not make sense. "But the Prophecy said… I thought I just needed to be bound."

"What prophecy?"

"I just needed to be bound."

"Lanfear."

"The Prophecy of the Daughter's Nightgroom. One involving me and my five sisters, and you, Rand al'Thor. I shouldn't call you Lews anymore. You aren't Lews Therin. He would never enslave a woman, no matter who she was. Who are you, Rand al'Thor? And what have you done to the Lews I knew?"

That hit surprisingly hard given I thought I had gotten over all the angst about who I truly was. Angrily, I bit out, "I am Rand al'Thor, not Lews Therin Telamon. I am the Dragon Reborn, gifted by the Creator. My dragonfire holds the Flame Imperishable, the Sacred Fire of the Creator. I have wonderful, beautiful, caring wives who are surely looking for me now, as I can feel them traveling slowly but surely. Perhaps they'll meet us at the White Tower in the weeks to come. Do not question who I am again."

"I cannot get you in without suspicion," she said offered.

"And if I come in so'shan, the Lord Form?" I asked.

"Then you are the Last Chinnar'veren and that means the Last Battle looms. It is quite risky, but doable. Foretellings speak of your coming, since the Dragon's death. The Amyrlin Seat is a hard woman, but she will listen to you. Whether she'll help you is another tale."

"And who is the Amyrlin Seat?"

Lanfear gave a vulpine grin. "The Queen That Never Was. She's held onto her seat for over two hundred years, she'll hold on to it through the storm your about to give her. I almost admire her, sometimes. She managed to find quite a bit of the Black Ajah before I took over and spread them out into the Little Towers, out of her grasp, and made them a sight more well-adjusted. No more forced conscription, for one. That's what got them in trouble in the first place. Having thirteen Myrddraal on hand inside the White Tower? It was a nightmare to plan every abduction, with all the Warders who did night training. I don't know how they did it for so long without people noticing."

"Her name," the Warder grunted.

"Oh, why, her name? Moiraine Damodred, of course," Lanfear said, delight shining in her eyes at the shock on our faces.

Chapter Text

Days 36 in the Blighted Westlands (Mirror World)

I could see Moiraine as Amyrlin, cooly calm, dispensing justice and overseeing kings and queens, while at night she snuggled with whatever Warder or Aes Sedai shared her bed, complaining about the boringness of ceremony or the stupidity of royalty. But could she stay the same over the centuries? How hardened had the years made her? How brittle? Would I even recognize her?

"What do you mean, Moiraine Damodred is the Amyrlin Seat? How did this happen?" Lan asked forcefully.

Lanfear's grin was vicious. "Has been for coming up on two hundred and fifty years, after the previous Amyrlin Seat, Siuan Sanche, was assassinated by the Black Ajah. Moiraine Damodred is a hard woman, led the first of the Purges of the Tower on her first day in office, using the Oath Rod to find out suspected Black Ajah, but the truest boon they had that day was the Traitor, who had meticulously recorded all members of the Black Ajah she knew and suspected, and presented it to the Amyrlin Seat. Her name would make you gasp. I'm not sure you should wish to know," Lanfear said coyly. "Perhaps things are different in your world, though. Perhaps there will be no traitor. Perhaps I would be naming an innocent to slaughter. That would be harmful, would it not?" She did not look like she believed it. She looked pleased, in fact.

"The name," I said firmly. "Tell me the name." A traitor, but betraying the Shadow, not the Light? A first.

Lanfear gave a moue of distaste. "Verin Mathwin."

My foundation rung like a bell. Verin Sedai, Black Ajah? It couldn't be. It truly couldn't be. She was absent-minded, would speak in meandering tales that seemed to jump around, and utterly focused on nothing but her desires; studying books and things as closely and intently as possible. Yet she sometimes had a curious look of intelligence in her eye, as if she knew far more than she let on. But how did that translate into becoming Black Ajah? And why? But Lanfear called her a traitor, so wouldn't that mean she is on my side, after all? Light, she practically knows everything! What has she told the Shadow? What hasn't she told them? Yet she betrays them in this world. I clenched my fists, not wanting to believe. Yet if it was true, what would that mean? It would mean she was on the side of the Light. That she could very well be on the side of the Light in our world too, I told myself.

"She's telling the truth as she knows it," Lan said to me urgently. "She's trying to make you doubt your companions. Do not listen to her."

I shook my head, mind decided. "No, no. It does not matter, Lan. Either it isn't true in our world and doesn't matter, or it is true, and that means Verin Sedai is actually on the side of the Light, that for whatever reason she joined the Black Ajah, she seeks to destroy them."

"You have no way of knowing she'd turn traitor if she is Black Ajah in our world," Lan warned.

"If the only difference in between the two worlds is that I'm born to die too early," I reasoned, a bit desperately, "then things mostly would be the same. If she's a traitor in this world, then she's probably a traitor in our world too. The Black Ajah have some way of circumventing the Three Oaths. What is it, Lanfear? How do they do it?"

Lan shook his head, muttering too quietly for me to hear.

Lanfear swallowed, looking pained, and strained not to speak for a long minute, before she opened her mouth. "A Binder—or as the fools in the White Tower call it, the Oath Rod—can be used to undo oaths and then new oaths can be sworn. The Black Ajah had a single Binder at the time of the Purges. Forced swearing of the Three Oaths, like in the Purges, can be circumvented with inverted webs of audio and visual camoflauge. While the swearer uses the Black Oaths, they are shown to swear the Three Oaths. It is how Mesaana survived the First Purge, though she did not survive the Second."

"What is an inverted web? And by web do you mean weave?"

"Weave is what the charlatans call it. It is a web to those of us accustomed to other, better times. Your teacher has not taught you this? An inverted web is when one channels the One Power inverted, which is to say when their channeling is hidden. It is quite a bit more difficult than normal, but allows stealth. Inversion is nigh undetectable, but for intricate webs of Spirit laced in a fine net or sensory ter'angreal."

"That's quite informative." She looked half-pleased, half-annoyed at the compliment. "So Mesaana will probably be hiding in the White Tower, and at the very least, I can use the Binder as an Oath Rod, and have Verin Sedai re-swear the Three Oaths. Then she will be Aes Sedai again, and can betray the Shadow to her heart's content with all parties believing her, if that is her desire. And to think there is a way to hide weaves, and use the One Power in stealth! Light, another thing to worry about and learn. Thank you, Lanfear. You have been very helpful."

"Don't think it will be that simple, scales." Lan's voice held a hint a sympathy. "If she truly is Black Ajah, she may have to flee, rather than give up her oaths, or be forced to fight us. Be glad her Warder is not in Illian as well. No doubt he is a Darkfriend too, a true one. I will not enjoy killing Tomas."

Tomas, the Warder who had reached out and welcomed me when others shunned and ignored me, a Darkfriend? I didn't know him that well, but it didn't make sense, like Verin Sedai. They seemed too nice, too helpful. I shook my head. "I can purify them. There is no need for killing. If I can purify a Forsaken, I can purify two Darkfriends."

"And are you going to save every Darkfriend, now that you have that ability?" Lan questioned.

"Of course not," I snapped. "But if I can save someone, instead of killing them, should I not?"

"I cannot answer that. Can you save them, when it means letting other innocents die? Can you save them, when it means they'll just return to their old ways and hurt more people? Can you save them—"

"I get it," I interrupted, my cheeks flushing.

Lan looked at me. "I am merely offering you advice, Lord Dragon," he said stiffly. "But if you wish me to be silent…"

Frantically, I shook my head. "Light Lan, no. I'm sorry. I just wish it was easy. That I could use the Flame, and purify the bad guys, and make them good Light-fearing folk again. I shouldn't have interrupted you."

He seemed satisfied enough with that for an apology. "There's more to evil than just the Shadow. Men who aren't of the Shadow do evil. They murder and rape and thieve and betray and lie. You cannot purify that out of someone with a flame, no matter how powerful. A man who murders for the Shadow, and a man who murders for his one pleasure both commit the same act of evil, yet only one does the Creator despise. I will advise that you spend your mercy sparingly. Learn who Verin Sedai really is, before you decide to purify her. She may not deserve it."

Images flashed in my mind, of a intrigued Verin Sedai making a perfect little sketch a man's torture, thoughtfully diagrammed. Of her asking Myrddraal questions about their habits, ink spot on her nose. Of her speaking with other Black Ajah about horned beetles, or the rise of manor farming in Andor. It seemed ridiculous to consider the Brown Sister a Darkfriend. And if she was, then surely she had to be betraying them. I did not wish to consider otherwise. I would not consider otherwise.

"If you two are done, I heard the bark of a grolm in the distance. They tend to stay away from the Wall, too many manage to die from lucky shots, so we need to keep moving. Standing here, discussing maybe's and if's will get us killed."

"A grolm? Which beast is that?"

"The squat toadbears with three eyes. They are not shadowspawn, but creatures taken from another Mirror World. Sammael had the bright idea of domesticating them, after seeing Semirhage's ilk. There used to be more, but the bounty encouraged hunters enough that the grolm tend to stay away from civilization." A coughing bark, closer this time, interrupted her. She raised an eyebrow, and the two of us started moving for the Wall.

Lanfear told us much and more, as we slash and burned our way through the Blight. First she told us of the Free Kingdoms. Of brave Saldaea, standing strong, where thousands of Burners held back the Blight, alongside tens of thousands of soldiers led by warrior-queens. Of the Domani, taking in the lost Kandori early in the Blight Years, and blossoming into a center of industry and knowledge. Of the rise of the Almothi into the agricultural powerhouse of the Kingdoms, their queen 'elected' by the channelers of the country each quarter of a century, from noble Kin. And militant Tarabon, where the weapons used against the Blight were used against fellow men, in battles terrible and mighty. The Panarch and her Legion have fought a slow and bloody war against Amadicia for nearly half a century, over the Shadow Coast, and they were losing, despite cuendillar weapons and soldier Kin alike.

"You keep bringing up the Kin, like I should know who they are," I finally told her.

"Oh, of course," she said in mock surprise. "They haven't revealed themselves yet. They all call themselves Kin now, but the original Kin were based out of Ebou Dar. They were a quietly massive organization of channelers, that extended into neighboring countries. Not Amadicia, of course, not even they were that powerful. With the Chosen revealing themselves, they moved to Tarabon, and absorbed the similar organizations that existed, spreading through what's now known as the Free Kingdoms, before announcing themselves to the world and the White Tower. Supposed Kin exist inside the Grand Alliance but they are fronts for Darkfriends to launder their misdeeds through acts of public benevolence and assistance, and are not to be trusted."

She continued lecturing. "The Kin regulate and run practically every channeling-based business in the Free Kingdoms, from medical care, to maidwork, to construction, even soldiery, except for cuendillar production. The members of the Kin that show Talent in that direction have to join the closest Little Tower, and become Aes Sedai, as per the Treaty of Reconciliation."

"Huh. So they're like a guild, but for channelers?" I posited.

Lanfear nodded. "Working as a channeler, without being a member of the Kin, is risky business."

"And the Little Towers?" Lan asked.

"Off-shoots of the White Tower, led by a Keeper. Established early in the Amyrlin's tenure, they've grown to become varying levels of independent," she said simply. "Like I said before, you would be very welcome in Saldaea. It is not unknown for men like you to join as volunteers to guard the Burners, to seek a death in the Blight. It is considered honorable for male channelers. And if the women cannot sense some of the flames, well, they consider it good luck."

My stomach twisted. How many men had gone off to die to the strange shadowspawn that haunted the Blight over the centuries for it to become an acceptable thing? Hundreds? Thousands? Tens of thousands? How many women? What must the attrition rate be like, for Aes Sedai to accept men channeling beside them?

"This world is a nightmare," I blurted out.

Lanfear merely laughed, and then told us about the Grand Alliance. Tear and Illian. Or rather, Imperial Tear, and Greater Illian, the two superpowers of the Westlands, who only haven't conquered everything outside the Wall due to war with Shara and Seanchan. A war that started centuries ago, in the brutal in-fighting of the Forsaken after Ishamael's death, that has burned hot and cold over the years, but never ended. For Be'lal was Emperor of Tear, and Sammael King of Illian, while Demandred ruled Shara and Semirhage sat on the Crystal Throne in Seanchan and neither pair could suffer the others to live. Shara I knew, but Seanchan was a distant empire across the Aryth Ocean, ruled by the descendants of Hawkwing's army. She did not give more details, and I did not ask, my brain full of them. It would not matter, anyway.

We were stuck in a world slowly falling to the Blight, where the Forsaken ruled openly in four nations. Our hope lay in Tar Valon, and that Moiraine would be willing to listen to our strange tale, and that this former Forsaken, now bound to me by three oaths, would lead me true.

Day 38

We had reached the edge of the Wall, just after dawn, after a day and night of hard travel. It was a wonder of this nightmarish Mirror World; a long wall of cuendillar, built as simply and quickly as possible and transformed through the rediscovery of the lost Talent. The Blight couldn't touch it, the last hundred feet was all burned to ash, only disturbed by footprints and the wind. Pure white walls stood thirty feet tall, with wooden watchtowers built onto the wall itself. No gate is visible, and indeed there isn't one; only the Wall on Saldaea's southern border has gates still, Mieren had told us. Our search would have been futile.

That was Lanfear's real name, Mieren Eronaile. It was the name long lost to history, and the name she used in this slow-motion apocalypse, one that the guardsmen on the Wall would recognize. In this century, the Tower Guard was the largest standing army in the world, and most of it was relegated to garrison duty, guarding the Wall, or guarding Burners.

Burners, Mieren had explained to me—leaning conspicuously against me as we walked and grabbing my arm as if we were strolling in a garden park—were channelers whose talent lay in Fire, and specifically the heat required to 'burn' the Blight out of the ground, a blue flame, and any who could do it, Aes Sedai or not, became a Burner. Unfortunately, the Blight did not like being burnt out of the ground, and so animals and plants would go rabid, attacking the channelers, hence the Guard. Ostensibly, the Burners, divided up into different regions, were above nationality, acting in the interest of all mankind, which was why the nations of the Westlands allowed another nation's army on their land.

"Hail the Wall," Mieren cried out. "It is I, Keeper Mieren Eronaile of the Saldaean Tower, here to deliver two men into the Amyrlin Seat's charge."

A face peered suspiciously out a watchtower, then immediately darted back inside. Not three seconds later a horn sounded, once, twice. Off in the distance other horns sounded once, twice, a brief pause than sounding once more. Further off horns sounded again, repeating the pattern, but adding a second horn. And then, barely audible, a third pair sounded off. The sound of movement over the echoes of the horns in the foggy morning caught my attention, as soldiers suddenly appeared on the wall in padded vests, wielding long tubes of white on wood stocks interspersed with long-hafted spears.

They looked on us in silence, worry, confusion and excitement flickered across their faces.

"Hail the Wall," Mieren cried out once again, and my skin tingled as lights abruptly bloomed in the sky in the shape of some kind of pinwheel of green, red, yellow, blue and white. The man in the watchtower appear to be looking down at a sheet of paper, and then at the lights. For nearly a minute he consulted his sheet, before returning inside, and blowing the horn once. Once more the sound was repeated, each time an additional horn call added shortly after. The soldiers began moving all at once, ladders suddenly appearing in their hands before being dropped over the edge of the Wall.

"Apologies for the silence, Keeper Etonaile," the watchman called out, "but we don't much like talking to anyone until we're sure they're actually people. Mimics will trick you rotten, if you let them. Never seen an Aes Sedai mimic, before, though, or a Burner, or Kin. Never seen a channeler mimic at all, now that I think of it, not even a man one. But you're the first folks we've seen out of the Blight that walked it. Bet you all have stories to tell, no doubt." He was a horse-faced man with wide ears, and a curious gleam in his eyes.

"Our stories are for the ears of the Amyrlin Seat, my good man, not for idle gossip at the village pub," Mieren said cooly, and the watchman zipped up. Soon the ladders were ready, and the soldiers were raising a massive long white plank of cuendillar wide enough for a horse to ride and angling it so Mieren could ride up the Wall. I stared in awe at the coordination and ease with which the soldiers handled the awkward object, getting it in place and stabilizing it.

"Move it, scales. We got days to go til Tar Valon," Lan grunted, tearing me from my watching. I raced to join him in climbing the wooden ladder, the sound of horseshoes ringing like bells on the long cuendillar ramp behind us. Close up some soldiers still regarded Lan and I with suspicion, fingering weapons and as we clambered onto the Wall, the soldiers made pockets for us, holding their weapons tight.

A man with golden epaulets and a plume of red feathers on his helmet stepped forward, as Mieren angled her horse parallel with the Wall, and the men immediately began to slide the ramp back opposite the way it came.

"With your urgent message, I'll be sending an escort with you, at least as far as the River Erinin and further if you desire it. From there, you'll board a boat north for Tar Valon, Keeper Eronaile. Is that satisfactory?"

Mieren gave the man a disarmingly beautiful grin and the man's cheeks flushed as he stood a little straighter. "That is satisfactory, dear captain, and I will be glad to take the escort to Tar Valon. I suspect you shan't have another incident like this anytime soon."

The man chuckled. "A Keeper and two strangers, Warders by the look of them, walking out of the Blight? I think not. I can already tell the men are going wild with speculation."

Mieren gave him a calm smile, with a hint of teeth. "And speculation is what you'll have to be satisfied with. Loose lips sunder walls. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course, Keeper Eronaile. Of course. I will make sure no talk spreads."

She nodded primly, as if it was to be expected.

Within the hour, men in padded white lamellar armor surrounded us, riding horses with holsters for their long weapons, as we made our way back west for the river Erinin. Mieren called the weapons 'rifles' and claimed nearly any man could learn to use one, and many women as well. She informed a curious Lan how they used Illuminator powder to fire tiny arrowpoints at speeds that tear through armor, outranging a longbow, and with a faster reloading than a crossbow. They sounded murderous. Just another aspect of this fucked-up world revealing itself.

Day 42

A second wall of cuendillar, a hundred feet tall, surrounded Tar Valon, enclosing the bridge towns into a district called New Tar Valon. Centuries of refugees and growth had caused explosive expansion beyond what Tar Valon proper could handle, and the outflow landed in New Tar Valon. Mieren told me more, told me intricate stories of the web of politics between the different refugee Houses of the Borderlands, and the positives and negatives of the Amyrlin's industrial policies—too strict and protective—and other such blather as we had slowly traveled upriver.

I mostly ignored it, lost in my own head, my mind overfull with information. An entire world on the brink of the Shadow controlling all, with no Dragon to save it. It was a picture of what my world could turn into, if I did not return.

We rode amongst the soldiers on a strange type of ship called a paddleboat, large wheels decorating the sides powered by steam created by channelers, a pair of twins named Mera and Mery, of the White Ajah.

They stood short in trousers and loose blouses, broad-shouldered with bobs of honey-brown hair, their ageless faces signaling them as White Tower Aes Sedai, skilled enough in Fire, Water and Air to operate the strange mechanism that powered the boat. In this strange world, the White Ajah, nominally devoted to philosophy and reason and logic, abstaining from worldly matters, had become the near-sole operators of the complex mechanical engineering behind the ter'angreal that powered this kind of boat, and other industries within the expanse of land Tar Valon controlled. And they were keeping quiet about how it worked.

That morning, as the twins were reapplying their weaves, I asked Mieren to enter into a Circle with me so that I may watch, and she obliged. I watched fascinated, as the twins wove intricate whorls and wefts of Air, Water and Fire into a massive nested mandala corresponding to the intricate mechanisms of the ter'angreal.

We were not nearly the only boat, and while many were simple riverboats, once or twice-masted, there were also massive paddleboats bearing long white containers of cuendillar, or soldiers milling aboard their deck, plying the river as well, belching out white clouds of steam from their chimneys. The traffic was neat and orderly, for as much as it could be in such a busy river, two streams of ships; one entering the massive white gate on the river and one exiting it. Both types of paddleboats had strange tubes of white cuendillar that Mieren called cannons and said they could fire an iron ball through a wall. Well, a wall that wasn't cuendillar.

So many strange things, some of which seemed almost vaguely familiar to me, like a long forgotten dream. Lan had spoken up then, asking more details on cannon, their use in combat, and how to make them. Mieren seemed almost gleeful to tell Lan in excruciating detail how to forge a cannon from simple bronze or iron, and waxed poetic about their capabilities as siege weapons and shock weapons in the field of combat. A soldier, a well-built man in his early thirties with a close-shaven beard, piped in, claiming them the kings of the battlefield, capable of laying waste to masses of foul creature, Whitecloak and Darkfriend alike, with dreaded 'canister shot.'

Canister shot was a spread of iron balls shot out of the cannon, travelling at high speed, tearing through bodies and armor like they were paper. It sounded like a nightmarish weapon, apparently invented by Tar Valon Illuminators, who were a much more militant organization than in my world. They had sole authority to manufacture and create and distribute 'firearms' like rifles and cannon—with Aes Sedai supervision, of course. Not that it stopped other nations from making shoddy replicas, or eventually finding out the secret of explosive powder over the last two centuries. I tuned out the horrid sounding weapons, while Lan dug into the nature and manufacture of such things and Mieren eagerly provided.

Instead, I took to singing, softly at first, then louder as soldiers encouraged me, some singing along when I sang a familiar song, all listening when I sang a dream song as the lyrics were often strange, until it came around again. Then some tried to join in. I wish I had learned the bittern, so I could play an approximation of the melodies, but all I had was my voice. Still, it was relaxing, to sit in the sun amongst a group of men, young and old, and sing. When I glanced back, Mieren watched me with an unreadable expression.

That day, after about four hours of puttering slowly as the sun rose, waiting in the long line of river traffic, we made it through the gate—Mieren flashed the colored lights again, in a slightly different pattern and got an immediate nod to go through—and inside New Tar Valon. Docks and shipyards lined the river, forcing traffic deeper into the river, as we made our way to the curved, graceful docks on Tar Valon itself. When we finished docking, men with the Flame of Tar Valon on their breasts waited for us on the quay, alongside a group of Aes Sedai, one from every Ajah, and a dark-skinned, white-haired woman wearing a thin green stole around her neck.

She introduced herself as the Keeper of the Chronicles, Alanna Mosvani, and I recognized the name and her still-ageless face with shock. The introductions of the other Aes Sedai pass as a blur, as the realization Moiraine will look similar hit me. That I was going to see Moiraine again, hit me. It didn't matter that she wasn't the same Moiraine, that I wouldn't be able to feel her. I felt nervous and excited and anxious all at once.

An Aes Sedai, the Green sister—a short and slender bright-eyed dark-haired woman with an ageless face and olive skin—approached me as we walked from the docks into the city. "The reports say you claim to have walked the Blighted Grass. Did you happen to encounter many shaeraptare packs?"

"If by encountered, you mean slaughtered, then nineteen." Nineteen awful, horrible fights where if I wasn't quick enough with my trio then Lan would probably get injured, sometimes badly. He added to his scar collection more than once. "Bloody things are fucking savages. I cannot belive someone made them."

The Aes Sedai blinked. "You killed nineteen packs worth of shaeraptare with only the Saldaean Keeper and you two? You expect me to believe that? Two or three packs? Maybe four. But nineteen?"

"You can ask Mieren Sedai if you don't believe me."

The Aes Sedai sniffed. "I think I will take you up on that offer."

Two minutes later she returned mollified and calm. "Tell me more. What else did you encounter on the Grass? How many herds of horse did you see? Any signs of fauna the size of a stout wagon or larger? Deer or oxen or other herbivores?"

What is this Green? Secretly a Brown? Still, I answered the nonsensical questions the best I could.

As we spoke, the Aes Sedai led Lan, Mieren and I through streets and past buildings that seemed familiar from my previous visit, vast natural landforms and curving waves, into the White Tower, passing through crowds of young women in white dresses, led by older women in whose dresses held bands of color on the hem, and groups of petitioners in their finest clothes, from farm women to nobles. It was far busier than it had been in my world, but all moved when they saw Alanna striding steadily with her staff through the halls and up the ramp to the Amyrlin's study.

The entire time the Keepers whispered quietly to each other, and I half paid attention to Tower gossip and little snipes between the two women, as Mieren dodged question after question about who exactly we were, and what we were doing here. That was for the Amyrlin to know, she claimed. Lan seemed even more antsy than I was, rigid and stone-cold in his demeanor but for his eyes which kept jumping around, taking in everything.

It seemed like no time before we were there. The study was tastefully appointed in sparse gold and silver and Sea Folk porcelain, with paintings of different cities on the wall. I recognized a painting of Fal Dara, and another that looked like Caemlyn and a third wide painting of the graceful arch of the Whitebridge. There were no portraits, no people on the walls, just places. Cities, by the dozen. Some cruder than others, some large, some small. Painted, charcoal, sketch. All were visible from behind the desk.

"So you have called, Mother, I have come," Mieren said, curtsying before the Amyrlin Seat, who sat in a high-backed wood chair, behind a grand desk covered with organized piles of writing and work. Moiraine looked tired, more than anything else. Either her makeup was not good enough to cover eyeshadows, or she just did not care to anymore, but exhaustion had bruised the skin beneath her eyes. She still wore her kesiera proudly, the blue crystal hanging on her forehead, and her white hair was laced with stars and moons that I recognized as Lanfear's. I gave Mieren a questioning look, but she didn't reply. I wonder what the story is behind that change of ownership.

"I called you three decades ago, Mieren Eronaile, over your refusal to institute some version of the Three Oaths in that heretical sect you call a Tower. You refused me, as I recall. Me, the Amyrlin Seat. Claimed the Three Oaths were the 'strangling root around the White Tower's neck' in your polemic you spread amongst the Free Kingdoms," Moiraine said dryly. "And now you come waltzing in out of the Blighted Grass with a single horse and two men afoot right near opposite where you should be, in Saldaea. Where my friends have assured me you are as recently as a week ago. Tell me why I shouldn't have you thrown in cells, while I gather a quorum to strip you of your title for all the trouble you've caused me, have the two men examined for the taint, and start an inquiry into how long you've been a member of the Black Ajah."

Light but Moiraine is properly terrifying. It did not go unnoticed that Mieren made sure we were completely unprepared for this, by not telling us anything about the tumultuous history between the two women. A mistake that could cost us, another mistake I made. I need to do better, to stop stumbling through things.

If Mieren was worried, though, she did not show it. "al'Lan Mandragoran," she said.

Lan stepped forward.

"Ancient history is not what we're—" Moiraine stopped. Stared. There was recognition in her eyes. Confusion. Fear.

"How? How did you find such a mimic? Where did you find such a mimic?" I can feel the chill of women embracing saidar tingling up and down my arms, but Mieren did not bat an eyelid, and Lan just stared at Moiraine like a lost puppy that thought it found its owner. I kept my face calm and collected, but considered seizing saidin.

"May I introduce, Rand al'Thor and al'Lan Mandragoran, residents of another world and not mimics. I checked. You are familiar with Mirror Worlds, and portal stones, Mother, correct? For my less well-read sisters, Mirror Worlds are the worlds created by the Pattern to reflect different choices made, worlds like ours, where the Dragon Died, or so the Forsaken on their thrones claim. These men arrived at a portal stone in the Braemblight and walked north, skirting the Wall til I met them in person. When I learned who they were in their world, I knew you would like to meet them."

"Yes Daughter. I would like to meet such men who could survive the breadth of the Blight unaided. This does not absolve you, however. But to see my Warder again…" Moiraine stared kindly at Lan, her smile lighting up her face. "Hello, old friend. It is good to see you again. It has been a very long time. You look fit. I see you not only survived, but thrived, in the Blight."

"I never thought I would see you in this room. You look tired. You are not getting enough rest. Is your Warder not taking care of you?" Lan's voice is low and measured, just like when he has to talk a stubborn Moiraine into doing something.

Our audience of Aes Sedai, quiet so far at the tales of other worlds, let out noises of shock. Even I was a little surprised with how familiar he was being.

She ignored the question, of course. Ever one to simply move past something. "How am I doing?" she asked. "So I am not also Amyrlin Seat over there?"

Lan shook his head. "You are happier than I have seen you in a long time, if ever. You are not the Amyrlin Seat, Siuan still holds the seat. You are a Blue Sister who travels the across the Westlands searching for the Dragon Reborn. You have a second Warder, whom you love. It is strange, but not bad. As I said, you are happy."

The Keeper Alanna Mosvani grinned at the mention of a second Warder, before smoothing her face.

"A second Warder? Surely I am not that much trouble, am I?" the Amyrlin Seat said with a frown. "What sort of man is my second Warder? What sort of man would another me fall for?"

Lan glanced at me, and Moiraine immediately caught on. "Oh, he is in the room as well."

Quickly I dropped to one knee, left hand on sword hilt, right fist pressed to the patterned rug, and bowed my head. “As you have summoned me, Mother, so have I come. I stand ready.”

Moiraine stared at me quizzically, before smiling politely. "A polite young man. You may stand." I stood, hand itching to touch my hilt. She stared at me for maybe fifteen seconds, those hawkish eyes of hers pouring over me. I felt naked and exposed for those moments, like she could read every single thing about me. Then she gestured at the chairs that sat arranged around her desk in an arc. "Please, take a seat. Lan, Rand, Keeper Eronaile. You've had a long and difficult journey and are deserving of rest, at the very least."

“Thank you, Mother.” I bowed my head, then, as Lan had told me, glanced at the chair and touched my sword. “By your leave, Mother, I will stand. The watch is not done.”

Aes Sedai muttered and whispered to each other about old traditions, as Lan adopted the same stance, and repeated me.

"Well, I don't have any reason to deny you," Mieren said, taking a seat. Moiraine ignored her, looking me dead in the eyes.

"The rest of you, may go. The rest of this meeting is private, and I expect you to keep quiet about what you have heard, until the proper time. Except for you, my Keeper." The Aes Sedai froze in their mutterings and promptly curtsied, before a wave of "Yes, mother," filled the room.

Once the door closed, the Amyrlin Seat leaned forward. "With the Tower's gossip quota fulfilled, I don't suppose you'll actually tell me what this is all about Mieren. How can you explain your actions away? I'm rather interested in what actually happened that caused you to meet my dead Warder and my supposed second warder, who appears to be an Aielman with a sword. An impossibility."

"Portal stones. They can be used to travel both to different worlds, and different portal stones in the same world. I was tracking them, and started following them because they seemed interesting."

"Is that how you do it, then? Appear in the most inopportune places? Are you using portal stones?"

Mieren nodded, not saying a word.

The Amyrlin Seat raised a brow, leaning forward. "I'm rather interested in you saying the words. Usually you're much more eloquent, Mieren."

"I use portal stones to travel. I know how to operate them, to travel between different portal stones in the same world," Mieren said awkwardly.

"I am an Aes Sedai, dear. I can sniff a woman trying to lie by telling the truth a mile away. Why ever would you try acting like a true Aes Sedai now, of all times? And so poorly at that?"

Frustrated, Mieren turned to me. Moiraine and her Keeper followed her gaze.

I answered, "I bound her by three oaths, Moiraine Sedai. She is not who you think she is. As long as I can get your oath not to harm me or Lan, I will let her answer any question you have."

Moiraine said it easily. The Keeper was more reticent, but after a brief exchange of glances, acquiesced.

"Answer the Amyrlin Seat's questions freely," I ordered Mieren. The woman had the audacity to look sulky. Moiraine cooly watched the interplay.

"Who are you, then?" she asked in that cool calm voice of hers.

"I am Mieren Eronaile." I gave her a look. "But my other name is Lanfear."

The room's temperature seemed to drop, and Moiraine did not take her eyes off Mieren as she asked me, "And you let her live?"

"I burned the Shadow out of her, cutting her off from the Dark One. Then I bound her by oaths sworn on a Binder. To obey the Dragon Reborn, and the Dragon Reborn's wives. To do no harm, except against Darkfriends and shadowspawn. To speak no word that is not true."

"The Dragon Reborn is dead. For all we would wish to claim otherwise, it is the truth. He died a babe on a mountain, cold and alone," Moiraine said bitterly.

"The Dragon Reborn is dead in your world. Not in others." Mieren said.

The Amyrlin caught on quickly, the slight widening of her eyes the only sign what she said next shocked her. "That is why she bonded a second Warder. I would bond the Dragon Reborn, if I was certain I could. What proof do you have to back such an extraordinary claim?"

I raised my palm and pulled up my coat sleeve. "I am marked once by heron and once by dragon. I was born on Dragonmount, born of the blood of the Aiel, and raised by the blood of Manetheren. I am the Dragon Reborn."

"This does not change you let a Forsaken walk into the room with the Amyrlin Seat! How can we be certain she is truly under your control? How can we be sure you aren't mad or turned to the Shadow?" Alanna said from where she stood, by Moiraine's left.

"Mieren, tell them something you wouldn't want them to know."

The woman grimaced, and grit out, "Only the Ghealdandor Tower and the White Tower don't have an active cell of Black Ajah."

Both women looked shocked. "So many, so soon?" Moiraine intoned.

"Tell them something else. A few things."

She cast a furious glare at me, then spoke as quickly as possible. "Prince Fyzetz is a Darkfriend, I've been grooming him to be a Dreadlord as he can channel. Misvola Federwyne, the Keeper in Tarabon, is Black Ajah. Imperial Tear plans to take control of the 2nd Burners in Northern Cairhien. Their women are in nearly all positions of leadership, after attrition and 'accidents.' What Be'lal intends for them, I truly do not know."

There was silence in the room as Moiraine's eyes burned furiously and she thought so hard I could almost hear the effort.

"Alanna, send one of your young men to Tarabon to inform the inquisitor of their failure. I want Federwyne on the rack and naming names before she's been there for a day and night. Fyzetz is a known problem, but the fact he can channel was not. That will be enough to for a team of Reds to go into Saldaea. Make sure to include a Green or two. A couple of gunhands will work wonders. No contact with the Saldaean Tower, I want no leaks." She took a deep breath and sighed, rubbing her face. "As far as the 2nd Burners go, I knew permanent non-partisanship was a feeble dream, but I will not let Be'lal simply take control of some of the most powerful Fire channelers in the land. We need to prepare to recall all Aes Sedai inside the 2nd Burners. Any who refuse, consider compromised. Inform Lady Amalisa of the Kin, so they too may prepare whatever response necessary."

Alanna grimaced. "Yes, Mother. I'll send Jaime. He needs the fresh air and sun. He can take a letter to the Lady informing her. I will inform the sisters of their duty myself."

Moiraine nodded. "Now that's dealt with, let us discuss exactly what the Dragon Reborn of another world is doing here? What is it you expect from us, from this wounded world of ours?"

"I was sent by the Lanfear of my world, as a test. It was to see if I was strong enough to survive, I believe. Except Lan and I survived too well, and so the Lanfear of this world simply watched us. Is that not right, Mieren?"

She nodded, "Yes. I've been checking in on them for weeks, through the use of Traveling."

At the casual mention, Moiraine's brow twitched, and Alanna looked intrigued.

"As far as what I'm doing here, apparently there is a portal stone on the grounds and I wish to use it to return to my world. I am needed in my own world."

The Amyrlin considered me, cooly, seeming to sit tall on her chair, despite my standing. "And if I do not wish to let you go, Rand al'Thor? You claim to be the Dragon Reborn, a man that can channel. A dangerous thing to do." Her eyes held mine. She was testing me.

"I don't think you want to make an enemy of the Dragon Reborn. I don't think you want to hold me either, not really. You're just seeing if I get angry or haughty. I'm not here to play games."

"Well, you are somewhat correct, but neither do I want the only hope of the world to run off just after he has arrived. And a man who can channel… That I simply let you sit here at all, unmolested, is nearly unthinkable. Yet I must and more, if you truly are him."

"And if I promise to return?" I offered.

"Promises kept are gifts, and promises broken less than nothing."

"I need to wait for my wives to arrive. They are making their way, slowly. I can stay for as long as then, but I will return."

"You can feel them, like a Warder?" Alanna asked, curiously.

"I am the Warder of three wives. If I was an Aes Sedai, I would surely be Green. Two of them are making their way here, and a third is a Novice of the White Tower."

"A Novice, with a Warder?" Alanna said, baffled and scandalized.

"We bonded before she was even a Novice."

That truly shocked them. "And I simply let this happen?" the Amyrlin Seat asked. "That does not sound like me."

"You encouraged it."

Alanna laughed, a loud cackle. "Moiraine! Bonding a second Warder as a Blue sister, and letting a sparker bond the same man before she even entered the Tower. Sharing your Warder, for Light's sake. Are you secretly a Green, and we just never knew?"

"This is not me, but some other Moiraine Damodred, my dear Keeper, and one that sounds half-wild," the Amyrlin Seat replied calmly, a hint of sternness in her voice. She kept me locked in her gaze. "And it does not matter. The question is whether Rand al'Thor, claiming to be the Dragon Reborn, will be allowed to leave, using the portal stone on the White Tower's grounds. And whether he is truly the Dragon Reborn or a charlatan. I will need time to think on this."

I was more than a little offended at the implication I was False, but I ground my teeth and let her speculate.

"In the meantime," she continued, "you two will be provided a room on the outer edge, far from the bustle of the Tower. If you wish to travel beyond the walls of the White Tower, an Aes Sedai and Warder will accompany you into the city. You may visit the Tower grounds, including the Warder's training yard and the range at any time, but do not create a bother or offend the Gaidin, or those privileges will be revoked. I will give you leave to carry your swords unbonded on Tower grounds, as you are Warders, no matter how unusual the circumstance. When your… wives arrive, notify me or my Keeper. You two may go now. Mieren, I think we have much more to talk about."

"Mieren, answer truthfully to the best of your ability, in assisting the Amyrlin Seat, today."

The woman stared daggers at me while Moiraine looked quietly pleased.

"Thank you, Rand. That should make this much easier. Alanna, would you mind finding an Accepted to lead these fine Warders to their new rooms in the Southern Refurb? Have her give them a room with two beds."

As the doors closed behind us, I heard Moiraine begin her interrogation. "Now, how exactly does one Travel?"

Day 55

A week and three days. That was how it took the Amyrlin Seat to invite us back into her study.

I only went out into the city once, followed by the same Green sister who walked with me to the Tower, Tatyana Byrdremov, who instead asked me questions about fighting Trollocs and Myrddraal while I picked out gifts for my wives; a collected Tales of the Horn that was a whopping nine-hundred pages for Egwene, a sapphire necklace for Moiraine, and a fine red leather coat that looked to fit Min, cut for a woman's figure. All purchased with Tar Valon marks Lan had secreted in pouches, and a stipend from the White Tower.

"Who's the lucky lady?" Tatyana finally asked.

"Three," I replied. "Three lucky ladies."

"Oh. I did not realize your world was so… permissive."

"If Green sisters can do it, why can't men? As long as everyone is happy, why should it matter if it's one woman with three men or three women with one man?"

She had the smooth, unruffled face of an Aes Sedai as she spoke carefully. "I suppose it would be easier for three women to tame a man, than for a woman to tame three men. Still seems… unnatural. Is such a thing accepted in your world?"

I told her truthfully no, but I wouldn't let that hold me back. "I will love my wives, each and every one of them, to my fullest." I then paused. "I miss them. I hadn't ever been without at least one of them around, until I came here." It was strange, and lonely, sleeping without them by my side.

In the rest of the week, instead I'd spent most of my time in the practice yards sparring with as many Warders and trainees who were willing to go in the ring with me. I invariably lost every Warder battle I took, but I learned the most from them, from the variety of weapons they wielded—not just single edge swords but a whole panoply of melee weapons—to the sheer variety of body types. I no longer fought men as tall as me, or the shorter height of the Shienarans, but a wide range, tall and skinny, short and stout, men bursting in rippling muscle, and men lean with whipcord muscles. Of course, melee weapons were not all they used in this Age. That day I decided to try out the range.

The range was a portion of the garden, cut and flattened, with cuendillar targets in the shape of different animals that roamed the Blight, and men of not only the Warders or their trainees, but the Tower Guard trained the accuracy of their weapons. And in the dugouts, learning to sight and reload a rifle, I was enlightened to why all those Warders and trainees wanted to fight me.

"Yeah, mate. They say you're the Amyrlin's second Warder, supposedly. Some even claim you're her husband. An Aiel Lord, but Aiel don't wear no swords, or fire no gun. Against their code, or something. I suppose you would know."

I wanted to groan. It was happening again. "I may be Aiel by blood but I was raised in the Two Rivers."

"Oh no way, I was born in Watchhill!" the guard, a young man named Tomlin, said excitedly.

I perked up. "Really? I was raised in Emond's Field!"

"Which part?"

"Oh, outside it, on a farm."

"Oh, out there, huh? Have a bunch of cousins that live in the Shade. And my sister, Bessim, in her last letter she said she got accepted as a Novice for the Two Rivers Tower, so she'll still have family while she's in Emond's Field. Big cities can be lonely."

I stared at him oddly. "Big cities? Emond's Field is a village."

He looked at me back just as oddly. "Yeah, before the Little Towers changed everything, and maybe out on the rural edge where you were, out in the Westwood."

I flushed, embarrassed. It's been two-hundred something years, Rand. Everything's changed. "Right. I'm an idiot, forget what I said."

He nodded and continued to coach me through using the long-barreled weapon when we were interrupted.

"Rand al'Thor?" a man in the livery of a Tower servant called out.

I turned and took in the two Warders beside the servant, both wearing the formalwear of Warders, a black coat emblazoned with the Flame of Tar Valon on their breast, button-up shirts the color of their Aes Sedai's Ajah—Red and Green—and tight-woven blue pants with high black leather boots. Holsters for pistols hung heavy inside their coats, visible in their clunkiness. Immediately, I took to the ko'di, and the Warders seemed to notice, tensing.

"Yes?" I called back from the dugout where I was practicing marksmanship.

"The Amyrlin Seat calls you for a formal meeting and inquiry in her study. If you would follow me and these fine gentlemen?"

I nodded, putting aside my weapon, and clambering out of the dugout. Our trip was quiet.

I entered into a study more full than last time. Four women from each Ajah stood in clusters, women of all shades and shapes, heights and hair color, staring at me as if I was a mystery to be solved. Moiraine stood in front of her desk, in a pale creamy blue dress, embroidered with thread-of-gold geometric patterns, wearing the stole of the Amyrlin Seat around her neck, her Keeper standing motionless beside her, her staff glinting in the lamplight.

I had long since filled myself with saidin, embracing the Oneness. I felt no fear in this moment, only recognition of danger. If they sought to gentle me, they would have another thing coming, came the errant thought skimming across the frozen void of my mind. I prepared torchflares, ready to release the weaves at a moment's notice.

"I have called this meeting, of the Sitters and their respective heads, to discuss one man and what is to be done. This is Rand al'Thor. He is the second Warder of my counterpart in a Mirror World, and chinnar'veren," Moiraine stated, voice firm and full of authority.

No one said a word, but eyes bulged and mouths puckered, and the Aes Sedai looked at me with new eyes, as if Moiraine had slotted in a puzzle piece. A Red spoke, a willowy beauty whose brown hair was streaked with gold and whose face betrayed no expression, though her voice filled with disgust. "So that is why you let these tainted men, your Warders, still walk ungentled, or even encouraged to volunteer. They are not yet close to the threshold and our sisters in the Burners can handle them."

Some of the Aes Sedai looked shocked at what the Red sister said, and a few gasped. Others kept their calm facade, or even smirked. I let it all wash over me. Let them bicker and fight.

The Red sister sneered at her fellow Aes Sedai. "What, do you think we Reds do not know what the Greens, Whites, and Blues are up to? We have sisters in the Burners just like you. They've learned, just as you surely have, Mother, my fellow Sitters, and the leaders of our respective Ajahs, that men make the blue flame far more easily than women. So we Reds let you find them and sneak your poor tainted men out, because without them, more sisters would die. Let those animals die first, I say. The only positive aspect of your entire scheme is they die either way."

Moiraine seemed unruffled. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Daughter, nor are you the first Red sister to tell me our dirty little secret is not so secret. Perhaps it will soon time to make it official. But that matters not, today. Today, this man that stands before you is chinnar'veren. Is he the Last Chinnar'veren? I do not know and only time will tell. Rand is, however, the Dragon Reborn, from another world than ours. While our Dragon died, others lived on, and this one was sent to our world through the machinations of the Forsaken Lanfear, to test him. He survived four weeks on foot in the Blight, alongside my counterpart's Warder, Lan Mandragoran. Now he seeks to return home, to use the portalstone lying secret in the gardens, to return to his world, and I have more than half a mind to let him, my Daughters."

The room exploded in uproar.

"You let the Dragon walk the Tower freely for over a week? Are you mad, Mother?" yelled the same Red sister that spoke before.

"Letting him go? After he just arrived? How could we?" a Yellow sister cried.

"Surely he can be convinced to stay, young men are easily ensnared even by a distinguished beauty such as yourself, Mother," one Green said blatantly, and the others nodded along.

"You met with the Dragon Reborn, without us?" cried one Blue sister.

This and more rung through the air until Alana smashed the Keeper's staff, eyes blazing. "You will not doubt the Mother so blatantly, nor speak over each other like nattering schoolchildren denied playtime! You are Aes Sedai."

That shut them up.

A White sister spoke up quietly, "He is truly the Dragon Reborn? He is not some trick by the Grand Alliance? What Prophecies has he fulfilled?"

Moiraine explained my birth, and I showed off my markings.

In the silence that followed, I spoke. "I will be leaving. But that does not mean I will not return. To think that entire nations lie in thrall to Forsaken, that the Blight covers the land like a slow-moving flood, makes my blood boil. I am the Dragon Reborn, and my infant counterpart may never have had a chance to stop this, but I do. I bear the Creator's Sacred Fire in my breast, an ember of the Flame Imperishable, of His Light. As a dragon chinnar'veren I can destroy, and purify the Dark One's works, until they are white ash or returned to the Creator's Light. That is my duty, as the Dragon Reborn, I believe. To purify or destroy the Shadow wherever I find it, and from the ashes usher in an Age of Light. Your world is in desperate need on an Age of Light, after centuries of Shadow. Let me leave and I will return to fight by your side again. Try and force me to stay, and I will never return."

Various faces of disbelief stared out at me from the crowd of Aes Sedai, and another Red sister asked the question many women in the room probably wanted to know. "Why is he not shielded and guarded? Why do Warders not watch his every move? Such disrespect, shown to a Tower that has treated him far better than it necessarily should have."

I was glad I held saidin and had taken to carrying the tiger everywhere I went

"I let this man do what he must, because he must. If he is bound and haltered by us too early, he shall simply bolt like he said. We must be willing to let him go, if we are ever to see him return." Then she focused on me.

"I see you think you can force an ultimatum on the Tower. And yet, if there was any man to do so, it would be the Dragon Reborn." She pursed her lips. "I will deign to let you go, for now, but do not expect to leave so easily next time. And yes, Mieren did tell me of your curious ability to purify blightfruit. I had some delivered, so you may demonstrate your gifts to the White Tower, and prove your gift comes from the Creator."

There was a tingle, and suddenly a horrible, rotted smell filled the room—or rather I suddenly noticed the smell that had always been there—as Moiraine opened a chest that had appeared on her desk. Inside were bulbus red and yellow and green 'fruit' of chaotic shapes, smelling rancid and overripe. I stepped through the crowd steadily as a wake formed around me, approaching her desk. Then I transformed into the Lord Form in front of curious, if slightly ill, Aes Sedai, to sharp gasps, and intakes of breath.

"I see why you took him as a second Warder now," Alanna muttered under her breath to the Amyrlin Seat.

I softened my flame in my mouth and gently blew the rainbow flame over the fruit, revealing apples and pears and strange oblong yellow fruit. Once I finished, I took a green apple and bit into the tart, juicy flesh. I then picked up a yellow fruit, and asked, "What sort of thing is that supposed to be?"

"That is a banana. It is a Sea Folk fruit, grown on their islands. We grow some in hothouses."

"How do you eat it?"

A tingle crossed my skin as a thin razor of air sliced the stem of the fruit and peeled it open like a flower.

"Thank you," I told Moiraine, presuming it was her, and took a bite. It was a creamy, soft fruit flavor with notes of vanilla. It was delicious. "Quite good. I have never had one before."

The light in her eyes seemed amusement as she took me in. "I don't suppose you would mind passing me the pear?"

I formed a razor-thin blade of air and chopped it into quarters, before floating it over to her, settling them gently on the desk. Her eyes never widened, as if a man channeling in front of her was an everyday occurrence, but I could feel the frosty glares on me from the surrounding Aes Sedai, and the icy tingle of saidar being embraced.

Moiraine took a bite, and gaze a pleasant hum. "Fresh and juicy, as if it had never come from outside the Walls. Would any of my daughter's like a slice of pear, or a fresh apple?"

In the silence I took another bite of the banana. None of the Aes Sedai spoke up, until Alanna said, "I could do for an apple slice or two. The pink lady."

I sliced up the pink and yellow apple into eighths and floated two over to the Keeper. Delicately she picked them up and took a bite.

Her eyes widened. "These are fresh and ripe."

That opened the floodgates of a certain type of woman, that is one who got off on having the Dragon Reborn slice and feed them fruit. I sliced up pears and apples, and peeled bananas for a dozen women of all Ajahs. One daring Green even tried to convince me to feed her 'by hand' but I refused, and even the other Aes Sedai considered her odd.

Then things took a decidedly unsettling turn. "Alanna, the door?"

There was a click, as the door locked. Some of the Aes Sedai glanced at it, but they didn't seem unduly concerned. "Some of you may be wondering why I called not only the Sitters but the Heads of each Ajah. The truth is Rand has brought valuable information to the table, through a Forsaken bound by the Oath Rod to obey the Dragon Reborn and speak only the truth. Mieren Eronaile is a traitor, a secret Forsaken that latched onto the Tower and parasitized it. She is Lanfear."

The room was silent but for gasps and cries of dismay, the women trembling, unable to process what they just heard; a Keeper, a Forsaken. An entire Tower lost to the Shadow, surely. It did not bear thinking about, but think it they must.

"And Lanfear had some interesting stories to tell, when I asked her some pointed questions. Tell me, my Daughters, if you had to guess which of you were still Black Ajah, who would you choose? Because I did not expect some of the answers I got."

I felt several women embracing saidar at once, and saw three women specifically turn to face Moiraine, anger, fear, and resignation on their faces. I wove bonds of Air around the closest, while Aes Sedai around her looked shocked. The other two were stopped by the Amyrlin and her Keeper, hanging taut and rigid in the air.

"Morwynna Cosgrove. Emlay Shardan. Lissia Benned. As confirmed members of the Black Ajah by a traitor to the Light, you are stripped of your titles, and stricken from the records. You will be stilled by a Circle of your peers, and executed. My daughter's, you may begin."