Second Place - Most Plausible
Second Place - Most "RJ-esque"
(NOTE: This entry was unusually long, and has been broken up into several sections, because my HTML editor wouldn't allow me to present it as one piece)
Prologue
The room was deep within Graendal's palace, and filled with all the
luxuries she could find in this time. Not that there was much, compared
to what she had before the long sleep, but there was a certain beauty to
the place. At least examples of beauty in human form were always
available to her.
A Domani man approached her. He seemed on the edge of breaking into a
run, as if decorum only barely held him. He held a thin tube in one
hand, and he handled the copper cylinder as if it were porcelain.
Clearly the contents were valuable.
When he was closer, Graendal recognized who the man was. Few were
allowed this far into her palace. Any who walked here had seen her true
appearance. Most, though, were wrapped so tightly in webs of Compulsion
that it did not matter. The man who came to her was different. He was
not as attractive as the other men in the room, but that was not his
purpose. He had been twenty years a darkfriend when he entered
Graendal's service.
In no way did that increase her trust of the man, but in some ways he
knew this world better than she did. That was why he tended her
networks. And though she enjoyed her own comforts, a man who would carry
a letter himself, rather than trusting a servant, was a useful man to
keep. Still, there was little news that would shock this man into running.
"What has brought you here?"
"Rand al'Thor. He has been crowned King of Illian."
Graendal tsked. Sammael had failed, then, unless he was playing a
greater game. It would be like him, but not if it involved abandoning a
stronghold. Sammael had defended Illian as well as any city he had ruled
in the War of the Power, save that his men held spears rather than
shocklances.
"Is there anything else you have to tell me?"
"Lord Itultrade reports the war is going well. Jereane Kareff concurs."
"Leave me with their message, then. And the other."
Jereane Kereff. A native to this country, and highly born -- she still
wore her house sigils for anyone to see. More importantly, she was Black
Ajah. The girl had little real power, but neither did those she used it
against. She had needed to teach the woman and her sisters more than she
would have liked to, but it had been necessary. With a dozen Black
sisters, Lord Itultrade had kept those Seanchan out of Arad Doman. She
could not take that chance of being discovered here. And Jereane had
almost justified her arrogant boasts upon arrival here. She was pretty
enough to keep in any case.
Still, Graendal did not like the risk. It gave too much power to Jereane
and her sisters, but the other risks were greater. And she did not want
to have to start over again.
She burned the messages after a cursory glance showed they contained no
new information. And then she opened a gateway to Travel.
* * *
The lists Seaine had in front of her held nearly one hundred names. The
lists she was afraid to read. Every one of those names was an Aes Sedai.
Only two dozen had not been in the Tower two weeks ago, but every name on
the list was gone now. Every one had disappeared in the last week. And
every one, Seaine was sure, was Black Ajah.
Pevara was restless as well. Perhaps she wondered if Elaida would name a
new keeper, with Alviarin gone. If she did, a Red sitter would be a
likely choice. Seaine doubted anyone wanted the position. If the rebels
attacked Tar Valon tomorrow, Seaine had little doubt the city would fall.
And yet Pevara said it was not the time to go to Elaida with her report.
She had added ten new names to that list every day since she started
putting it together. But the connections kept appearing. The lies of
one sister had enabled dozens of others more than once. She was not sure
of the organization she had uncovered, only of a few patterns she had
seen. Most had Alviarin or Galina at the top.
Galina was dead or a prisoner of the Shiado Aiel. Covarla had told
Pevara that, when she had met with the Red sitters -- and that had been
done in secret. Her friend had been reluctant to say even that much, but
knowing the details of Dumai's Wells only created more uncertainty.
* * *
Gawyn drew his blade in an instant, when he heard footsteps behind him.
Dorlan was a small hamlet; one of the bridge towns not far from Tar
Valon, but three men had tried to kill him in the last week. In a second
it was over; the assassin did not have Gawyn's skill with a sword. Once
there had been no thieves in Tar Valon, and the bridge town had been
considered too poor for criminals. Now his men encountered lawbreakers
every day.
Still, even in Dorlan news leaked out from the city. Elaida's Guards
would not let him in; he had asked for an audience more than once. He
had demanded an audience with the Amyrlin, which no man had ever done
before. And still she put him off. But information made it out.
He returned his gaze to the merchant. He had traveled up-river from
Murandy, and knew something of the rebel Aes Sedai. If Gawyn knew his
sister, that was where she would be, if she were alive. Egwene, too.
"Now what did you say about these Aes Sedai?"
"They've got themselves an Amyrlin, my Lord. Egwin Alver or something
like that, I hear. Supposedly the youngest ever -- not far from being
just a girl. And an army -- there must have been fifty thousand of
them."
Gawyn paused. Surely they wouldn't have. Egwene wasn't even Aes Sedai.
"Egwene? Egwene al'Vere?"
"That's what her name was, my Lord."
Egwene was leading the rebels. And they were marching north. If he did
not leave soon, Elaida might very well order his men against Egwene's.
If any of the Younglings still lived by then. There had been far too
many skirmishes around the village for his liking. More than ever, he
was sure Elaida wanted him dead.
Well, she would not get her chance. He was riding south at first light,
with as many of the Younglings as would come with him.
Chapter One
The Storm Breaks
The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that
become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten
when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the
Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose over
the Aryth Ocean. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither
beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was
*a* beginning.
South and east the wind blew, through the port city of Tanchico, where
the banners of Luthair Pandreag Tanreall had replaced those of Tarabon.
The wind blew across the plain, and into conquered Amadacia. Once, none
who could channel was allowed there, but now Amador held nearly one
hundred of the sort. Under Seanchan rule, though, those women wore the
leash and collar of a damane. Still, the winds blew further east, taking
to the south again as the edge of the Seanchan advance was passed and
then on into Altara.
Even with the drought sweeping the country, the lands on Altara's
southern coast were still damp. If the rivers were lower than they had
been in nearly an age, then that was how things were. The women who
maintained the farm had seen bad weather to often to be overly troubled
by it, even though they knew it must be the work of the Dark One.
Well over a thousand women filled the buildings spread out along the
Altaran countryside, yet Reanne wished there were more. When the first
word of what had happened in the capital reached her, the Elders had met
again. Every kinswoman needed to be here, not just those missing the red
belt of a Wise Woman. If Elayne and that other girl, Nynaeve, told her
the truth, any kinswoman these 'Seanchan' caught was worse than dead.
The two girls were Aes Sedai, though she had not believed it at first.
Young, but far more powerful than any of the Kin. Only the Aeil girl
with them matched Elayne, and Nynaeve was the strongest woman Reanne had
seen in her four hundred and twelve years. Meeting three that bested
Cadsuane, and all within days of each other, had been the smallest shock
those girls had brought into her life.
A dozen men and two women were riding toward the farm at breakneck speed.
And a boy. Even from here, she knew she had seen most of the men once
before. They were part of the boy Mat Cauthon's Band of the Red Hand.
At least, more than half of them were. The others wore Tylin's anchor
and sword, and the green of Altara's army.
"You are Reanne Corly?" Queen Tylin said. "Where are the Aes Sedai?"
"They are with the Windfinders; inside."
It was only then that Reanne noticed the dark clouds that filled the sky.
And that a thundering downpour had just begun. [...]
Chapter Four
The Amyrlin Seat
The borders of Andor were not more than a week's march from where Egwene
sat, in a tent far short of the splendor of the Amyrlin's study in Tar
Valon. At least the endless sheaves of petitions had stopped, with most
of Sherriam's foolishness, well on a week ago. Still, she was tired more
often than not. It was an effort to Dream every evening, but tonight she
would not do so willingly. She had another part of a Dreamwalker's work
to do.
When Elayne and Nynaeve had left, she had given them instructions for how
to leave a message if they needed to speak with her in person. They had
both done so last night, with messages marked urgent. The light rain
over the camp suggested that they might have had some success, but she
doubted that was what they wanted to discuss. She stepped into the Dream...
Elayne was there, but Nynaeve was not. Instead, another woman
accompanied her. In her middle years and lacking an Aes Sedai's face,
she was not one of the other Sisters in Ebou Dar.
"Mother."
The title always seemed silly, especially from women more than old enough
to be her mother, but whoever this woman was, she had an air of formality
that somehow surpassed even Elayne's. She managed to keep decorum,
though. Siuan would be proud.
"Child, what would you ask of the Amyrlin Seat?"
"I am Queen Tylin of Altara. Elayne Sedai has brought me here that I
might ask your aid. The Seanchan have invaded my country, and Elayne has
convinced me that we need Aes Sedai help to make them leave."
Seanchan. To keep a single woman from the life she knew as a damane, she
might command every Sister in the camp to Ebou Dar. For a dozen, many
would agree. For the Kin, Egwene might well have the Hall's complete
support.
"How many of those women are there, Elayne?"
"One thousand, seven hundred, and eighty-three. Nearly fourteen hundred
are here."
"We will help you, Queen Tylin. I promise you that." *Even if I have to
strangle every woman in the hall*.
Chapter Six
Burdens to Carry
A large square had been cleared in field just harvested. No crops would
be destroyed by what Nynaeve did here. She didn't like it, but the
supply wagons had to make it here. The Farm could support two thousand
people, perhaps. Fifty thousand was another matter. She tugged her
braid, and opened a gateway to a similarly roped off section in Egwene's
camp in Murandy.
Every woman here who could make a gateway of usable size had done so.
There were not many; the members of the Knitting Circle were the oldest
of the Kin -- it was no surprise that few were stronger than they were.
Even Reanne had, surprising herself. Most were just barely large enough
for men to walk through; Elayne and Aviendha let carts through, while the
wagons were hers.
All told, there were perhaps seventy gateways opened. Well fewer than
one Kinswoman in ten could weave even the smallest gateway, but that was
to be expected. Most had left the Tower without even being tested for
Accepted. And despite what Sherriam had led the novices to believe, and
despite Tiana continuing the same story, most of those had been sent away
for lack of strength.
The Windfinders fared better on that scale, though there were far fewer
of them. The Sea Folk were careful in choosing the women they sent to
Tar Valon, sending girls who would neither astonish nor disappoint the
other sisters. The strongest of them could match any Aes Sedai in
strength, though even Nynaeve was often surprised at how little they knew
of some things. And how much they knew of others.
Egwene's warning about Nicola and Areina still worried her. Those two
girls -- they weren't much younger than she, but they were girls in truth
-- would be trouble. Nynaeve remembered what Siuan had told her once, on
her way to Tar Valon. If she had a shred less talent, Siuan had said she
would have worn Novice white for the rest of her natural life. Egwene
likely had the same thoughts of Nicola, now.
But all that worry evaporated in an instant as another target for her
fury stepped out of the gateway she had opened. Myrelle was here. Lan
likely was not far off; the other sisters thought a Yellow taking a
husband odd, but she had known from the first she would not be like other
Aes Sedai. Though she had heard a few rumors that perhaps she was not
the only woman outside the Green ajah to take a husband.
"Myrelle, we have to talk." She stared down the Ebou Dari woman as hard
as she had any man in the Two Rivers. Almost absent-mindedly she knotted
the weave holding the gateway open. It would hold for quite some time
like that, though not indefinitely.
"Come this way. You too, Lan."
"You can't possibly be ready for him." Myrelle said. It was only the
thinnest strand of restraint that kept her from injuring the woman here
and now.
"If you mean my ... difficulties ... with the power, they are long past.
And anything else is Lan's concern, and mine."
"You really mean to take him on, then? Knowing the risks involved?"
"He has risked his life for me more than once. What I risk is not that,
though I would for my husband."
"Well, then. I somehow think if I didn't agree now I'd find the Amyrlin
by my tent. If you didn't tear me apart with the Power. Light knows,
you could." And she embraced saidar. A few more weaves by the both of
them, and she could feel him. [...]
Chapter Seven
The Nine Moons
Mat had awoken in a dungeon. He could not call it anything else. That
he still was alive would have been good luck for anyone else, but for him
it was routine. A wall had collapsed around him, and only an open window
saved his life. It must have been something like that, anyway. The
Seanchan had been coming around the corner, when he'd fallen unconscious.
The damane had channeled, and the wall had starter to fall. That was the
last thing he remembered.
In a Seanchan prison, it was not surprising that he kept his belongings.
The Seanchan had let armed men roam Falme freely the last time they had
invaded. Rand and the Heroes had forced them back once. Mat would not
do it again, even if he had the Horn of Valere to sound. But a ring, his
clothes, and most of his knives were still with him.
"Follow me." A man said, opening the cell. Mat wasn't about to argue.
It was until he had climbed several flights of stairs that he recognized
the palace. Tapestries were gone, and banners replaced, but he had been
here before. The last time he had been here, the guard would have been
leading him to Tylin's throne room -- a place he would go to great
lengths to avoid.
A beautiful blue-eyed young woman sat on the throne instead. Her clothes
and hairstyle exemplified everything he had seen of Seanchan nobility.
And there was no questioning who was in charge here.
[...]
Chapter Nine
After the Lightnings
The Seanchan officer had to be dragged to her by a pair of Warders. He
would not have looked at the field of battle in daylight, though night
had fallen hours ago, or at who held him prisoner. Only Nynaeve's quick
action had kept the man from taking his own life. But Egwene needed
someone to take her message back to the Seanchan. Especially if it was
to High Lady Suroth.
The voice she spoke in was not quite the same as one Elayne sometimes
used -- the voice of a queen on a throne. It was that of the Amyrlin
Seat, and Siuan had taught her this, among many other things. What he
would take back would be important. She channeled to make a light, more
to remind the man that she could than because she needed it to see.
Torches or candles would do as well for the latter.
"Despite what you may wish, you are going to live," Egwene said, focusing
a stone-hard glare at the man, and seeming to grow taller with every step.
"Tell your superiors what you saw today. That Artur Hawkwing is a
thousand years dead, and his empire with him. Know that your damane will
not bring you victory against us. And know that we are Aes Sedai."
With that the soldier fled.
[...]
Chapter 13
The Jennah Road
Perrin Ayabara surveyed the company he was in, again. There were
certainly those in his party that he could do without. The Two Rivers
men were his friends, of course. And Faile, no matter what happened, was
his wife.
But the First of Mayene, he could do without. The woman was ...
difficult... to deal with. The First was supposed to talk to Queen
Alliandre of Ghealdhan. He'd brought over a thousand armed men with him.
Well, a good many of them were armed women, and not all were Maidens of
the Spear. The ones that weren't were others he could do without.
But Faile had taken them on, for one reason or another. All the young
women of Selande's 'society' had tailed them here. In many ways, they
looked up to the Maidens, but he doubted they would trade swords for
spears. He supposed with enough practice they might become reasonably
competent, but for now they were in the way. And the Light knew he'd order them into battle only if there were no other choice.
[...]
Chapter 15
Child of the Light
Galad still found the knots of rank on his shoulder hard to believe. But
it was war here, and in war officers advanced in rank quickly, or died.
Still, no one had been Lord Captain before thirty in the thousand years
since the founding of the Children. No one before Galad Damodred had.
He knew that many of the Children credited him with stopping the
Prophet's advances. Certainly no one else had faced the Prophet's men as
often and survived, let alone won. But the groups he'd commanded had,
and so they'd grown larger. As it was, he held a Lord Captain's rank,
commanded half of the Children in the field, and reported directly to
Lord Captain Commander Eamon Valda. Even if the Prophet's advances had
mainly been stopped because he chose to stop.
So it was no surprise to see Valda's personal messenger at his tent.
"Lord Captain. The Lord Captain Commander. He's dead. Lord Captain
Calvain has called for a meeting of the Council of the Anointed."
"I'll be there as soon as I can. Go with the Light."
He went to his horse, keeping his sword in his belt. Calling a meeting
in the middle of a battle was hardly safe. He'd left orders, and his
second was competent as long as he had good orders. But this had better
not take too long.
"First, there is the matter of who will command the Children now." Lord
Captain Calvain had said as soon as Galad arrived. He'd meant for there
to be only one answer to that question.
"As if there's any question. You all know it, too." Lord Captain
Takalidin had been the oldest of them, well past sixty. And if Galad was
correct, he was suggesting...
"I cannot. Not yet." Galad said.
"You are the best battle commander here. And the Lord Captain Commander
is not always the oldest or the most experienced." Takalidin continued.
"You mean to make this boy Lord Captain Commander?" Calvain sneered.
"Will the Children be putting ten-year-olds in mail next?"
"I am the senior Lord Captain here. One of very few living senior Lord
Captains, Calvain. And if one of them but you doesn't favor Galad, he is
a Questioner." Takalidin argued. Every man here was a soldier.
Qustioners did not face armed and dangerous enemies. "Especially in
light of the news from the capital, we need the best military leader we
can have. And Galad is that man."
Galad cleared his throat. They were talking like he wasn't even there.
If he was not careful, he might well get angry.
"What news from the capital?"
"Someone has taken the city."
"And is there any word from the north?"
"The Prophet's men. They are becoming quite a bit more organized. No
farms have been burned in months. And... there are Aeil with them. And
a Darkfriend." Lord Captain Bornhald added. With the war to focus his
attentions, Dain was a better than fair soldier. He still drank too
much, but not every night. But something in the man's voice bothered
Galad.
"And how is it that you recognize one particular Darkfriend out of
thousands of men sworn to Rand al'Thor, Lord Captain?"
"No one but Perrin of the Two Rivers has yellow eyes."
Galad had never met this Perrin, but he understood the man had left the
Two Rivers with Egwene. And Mat Cauthon and Rand al'Thor, of course.
He'd met Mat only once, though the man had the best hand with a
quarterstaff he'd ever seen. And al'Thor was who he was, of course.
Somehow he doubted Perrin was any more a Darkfriend than Egwene.
He might be alone among the Lord Captains in thinking she was not,
though. Few would even consider that every woman who could channel did
not serve the Dark One. That might well have to change. He would not
have the Children end as men who stood in the way of the Dragon Reborn on
his way to victory in the Last Battle.
That was another truth few Children acknowledged. As if the Stone and
Callandor were some Aes Sedai trick. As if the herons on his hands and
dragons on his arms hadn't been confirmed by a hundred different sources.
Rand al'Thor was the Dragon Reborn.
"Are you going to choose a Lord Captain Commander or not? We have
battles to fight whether we do or not."
"We are agreed." Takalidin said. "Lord Captain Commander."
Chapter 17
Dreams of Home
Mesema's ravings made Perrin tired. Arguing with him was almost like
arguing with stone, except that stone was easier to persuade. He'd
almost let Grady bind the man with the Power and carry him back to
Cairhein for Rand to deal with. Still, there were Whitecloaks to the
south. And that meant he could hardly sleep tonight.
* * *
He wasn't surprised to find himself in the Two Rivers. It seemed his
Dreams started there if he didn't concentrate. Things looked peaceful
here. A light coat of snow was on the ground. Back in Ghealdhan, it was
too warm for that; he'd had cold rain in the tents for a week. Worse, he
hadn't expected the drought to break, so he hardly had decent clothes for
the weather.
It didn't matter here, though. Here, he wore what he always had. A
simple blacksmith's hammer was in his belt, and his axe in hand. It was
the Two Rivers, but in this place, he expected surprises. He saw someone
by the Winespring Inn. He wasn't sure, especially in that shawl, but...
"Egwene?"
"Perrin? I almost didn't recognize you with that hair on your face. How
are you here?"
She always did that. It wasn't just to Rand. "Remember Elyas? It's
part of what lets me talk to wolves. I don't know any more than that, so
even if you've become a Brown sister, don't ask. I was going to ask you
the same thing."
"I just can. There are a few others like me. Aeil dreamwalkers.
Moghedien. Lanfear, I think. Aes Sedai call women who can touch
tel'aran'rhoid in their dreams Dreamers."
"Are you sure that isn't reserved for eighteen-year-olds who picture
themselves with seven-striped stoles?"
"Light help me, Perrin, that's real. I had some thought of keeping
this," and she held her stole. "From Rand until he was ready, but it's
been too long, and I'd rather not leave things to rumor. It's a long
story, but the rebels raised me Amyrlin. We would be halfway to Tar
Valon if something hadn't come up.
"Seanchan. They're back. We beat them in Ebou Dar, but prisoners say
they hold Amador and all of Tarabon. I'm not much on helping
Whitecloaks, but even they're better than Seanchan. Whitecloaks would
only kill me."
"They don't think any better of me, and you know why."
"I do, Perrin. When did you last see Rand?"
"A few weeks ago. Why?"
"Because there was a rumor that he had gone to Tar Valon and sworn fealty
to Elaida. I knew it wasn't true; Amys would have told me something.
But can you think of anything that might make someone believe something
like that?"
Rand had asked him not to say anything. But too many knew. And Kiruna
and her friends were *her* Aes Sedai now. And maybe she managed to
intimidate him, but Egwene was a friend. Even if she were Amyrlin, she
was a friend.
So he told her. Everything that happened at Dumai's Wells, and just
before. As much as he knew, anyway. Even what happened with the Aes
Sedai.
"How many of these *Asha'man* were there, again?"
"Two hundred or so. I didn't count, and there were probably some Taim
didn't bring from Caemlyn."
"Merana could have gotten a message to Salidar weeks ago. I may have to
send someone to talk to her. Perhaps Nynaeve." Egwene grinned.
Perrin laughed, but only for an instant. But something she'd said
earlier just clicked. "There are Seanchan in Amador?"
"Yes. Where are you, Perrin?"
"Amadacia. Just south of the border. Rand wants me to take care of
Masema, but his men are fighting Whitecloaks and Amadacian soldiers all
along the border."
"The Seanchan won't stick to the city for long."
"Can you help us?"
"I'll try, but I wouldn't be surprised if the hall says Amador can rot.
Can you be back here tomorrow night?"
"Yes."
Chapter 19
The Wolf and the Lion
For any Whitecloak but Galad, Perrin would have ignored a parley flag.
There were two Aes Sedai with him, after all. And even if Asha'man black
was not universally recognized as yet, Grady and Neald still could
channel. But the Whitecloaks had said they wanted to talk.
"I had your name taken off the lists, you know. Lord Captain Bornhald
wasn't too happy about it. But he hardly had any evidence against you,
and no one else had even that much."
"You wanted to talk. About what?"
"You seem to have some control over these men. The Prophet... didn't.
The Children must return to Amador. I trust Rand al'Thor does not want
war between Ghealdhan and Amadacia."
"If I were you, I'd hold off. There may be some things in the capital
that you do not expect."
So he explained, letting the man know he could get a message to the rebel
Aes Sedai. And to his half-sister.
Chapter 21
A Golden Sunburst
Myrelle was still shocked to be walking the halls of the Fortress of the
Light. Or rather, she was surprised to do so while not in chains. The
battle had been exciting at first, but after Ebou Dar the sisters and
Kinswomen knew what to do. So in the end, they had won fairly easily.
And as before, they'd taken a great many prisoners.
Myrelle was only truly concerned for two classes of prisoners. Some, the
Seanchan had called damane, while others had been sul'dam.
"You are all novices now. No matter what you were before today. Every
one of you can use the one power. You all have felt that ability in
others -- you have sought it out, and trusted your sense of the ability.
It makes no difference who did what before, for a sul'dam or a Princess.
"You will be expected to obey any Aes Sedai instantly and without
question; Accepted merit nearly the same treatment. In any case, you
will not leave us unless the Mistress of Novices, Tiana Sedai, orders you
to go."
The former damane seemed less than happy to be free; the sul'dam seemed
more than scared to know they could channel. She'd needed to make that
point quickly, and clearly. Myrelle would never touch an a'dam again, if
she could, but that was convincing enough.
Some of the sul'dam had taught themselves without knowing it. They
channeled small things without thinking to see if they had a damane
around. A few could accomplish quite a bit if they thought they were
'complete'. Myrelle had no idea how Elayne had made that modified a'dam.
It gave the same sensations, and looked the same, but try to control the
other woman's channeling with it and you ended up channeling yourself or
not at all. It was really of no use, except in training the former
sul'dam.
Still, all of these women had been the weapons of the Seanchan army.
Fully trained, they would likely find themselves in the Green Ajah. At
least, they would if they ever showed any kind of feelings.
* * *
"We can't stay here." Egwene said.
"Where do you propose we go? Back to the road? Directly to Tar Valon?
Or do you mean to press on to Tanchico?" Siuan said. She was the only
one who could get away with talking to her like that.
"I don't think we can afford the losses in Tanchico, or I'd do it. But
we have to go to Tar Valon soon."
"Where else will we have food for fifty thousand? I don't like staying
in the Whitecloaks's citadel any more than you do, but be reasonable.
Here we have food, and money to pay the army. Ailron was generous.
Normally I would have counted the man a fool for riding with his army
against the Prophet, but he lived because of it."
"And Ailron wants us out of here as quickly as possible, and Galad is
scarcely less eager."
"I rather think he'd prefer it if you stayed."
"He knows I won't. Besides, Berelain is following him around the
Fortress. Galad thought Aes Sedai were necessary, and somehow managed to
convince the Lord Captains, but no sister can go anywhere outside the
Fortress without an escort of soldiers and Warders. The Kinswomen and
Novices hardly have things easier. Though I don't know what worries you
about leaving. Lord Byrne will be with us in any case."
"He'd hardly be far from me. The Gaidin are all like that, you know."
"There's a rumor he asked you to marry him..."
"And I told him in a few months, in Tar Valon."
"There's been a lot of that. Nynaeve started it, marrying Lan. But in a
month fifty sisters have married, another twenty have announced plans to,
and only eight were Greens. A good many of the older novices brought
husbands or lovers with them; most have ended up in the army."
"Perrin is still here. And Mat was in Salidar. They're not Rand, but
they still are ta'veren."
(Concluded in Part Two)