Page 485 of The Gathering Storm

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"And what do you suppose she was planning to tell us?" Egwene asked. "This theft could not have been kept hidden for long."

"I don't know, Mother," Lelaine said, shaking her head. "The guards said that Sheriam seemed . . . flustered . . . when she took the ter'angreal. This was just last night."

Egwene clenched her teeth, thinking of Sheriam's final spilled confessions. The theft of the ter'angreal had been far from the most shocking tidbit she'd mentioned. Elayne would be livid; the original ring had been among those stolen, and Egwene doubted that Siuan's hidden copy would be useful as a template. It was already flawed; copies of it would likely be more imperfect.

"Mother," Lelaine said, more softly. "What of Sheriam's . . . other claim?"

"That one of the Forsaken is in the White Tower, impersonating an Aes Sedai?" Egwene said. Sheriam claimed she'd given the ter'angreal to this . . . person.

Lelaine and Romanda walked silently, both staring forward, as if speculation were too daunting.

"Yes, I suspect that she is right," Egwene said. "They infiltrated not only our camp, but the aristocracies of Andor, Illian and Tear. Why not the White Tower as well?" She didn't add that Verin's book confirmed the presence of one of the Forsaken. It seemed best to keep the extent of Verin's notes secret.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," Egwene said. "With the assault on the Tower, and our return, it seems likely that the Forsaken—whoever she is—will find it prudent to slip away and find an easier target for her scheming."

Lelaine and Romanda didn't seem comforted by that comment. The three of them reached the edge of the Aes Sedai camp, where mounts awaited them, as well as a large group of soldiers and one Sitter from each of the Ajahs, other than the Blue and Red. There wasn't a Blue because Lelaine was the only one remaining in camp; the reason there wasn't a Red was obvious. This was part of why Egwene had chosen to wear red, a subtle hint that all Ajahs should be represented in the action they were about to take. It was for the good of all.

As Egwene mounted, she noticed that Gawyn was following her, again, at a respectful distance. Where had he come from? They hadn't spoken since the early morning. As she mounted, so did he, and as she turned to ride out of camp with Lelaine, Romanda, the Sitters and the soldiers, Gawyn followed at a safe distance. Egwene wasn't certain what to do with him yet.

The army camp was mostly deserted. Tents sat empty, ground trampled by feet and hoofs, hardly any soldiers remaining behind. Egwene embraced the Source soon after leaving their camp, and she held to it, ready with weaves should someone attack her during the ride. She still didn't trust that Elaida wouldn't use a gateway to interfere with the assault. True, the false Amyrlin probably had her hands full with the aftermath of the Seanchan attack. But expectations like that one—assuming that she was safe—were what had gotten Egwene captured in the first place. She was Amyrlin. She couldn't risk herself. It was frustrating, but she knew that an end had come to her days of solitary action, striking out as she saw fit. She could have been killed, rather than captured, all those weeks ago. The Salidar rebellion would have floundered, and Elaida would have continued as Amyrlin.

So it was that her force rode up to the battle lines outside the village of Darein. The White Tower still smoldered, a wide field of smoke trailing up in a ring from the center of the island, shrouding the white spire. Even from a distance, the scars of the Seanchan attack were evident on the building. Blackened holes, like spots of corruption on an otherwise healthy apple. The Tower almost seemed to groan as she looked at it. It had stood for so long, had seen so much. Now it had been wounded so deeply that it still bled a day later.

And yet it stood. Light bless them, it stood. It rose high, wounded but sound, pointing toward a sun hidden by clouds above. It stood defiant of those who would break it, within and without.

Bryne and Siuan waited for Egwene at the back of the army. A disparate couple they were. The battle-hardened general, with temples of gray and a face like an unyielding piece of armor. Strong, made of lines. And beside him Siuan, the diminutive woman in pale blue, her face lovely, looking young enough to be Bryne's granddaughter, for all the fact that they were near the same age.

Siuan made a horseback curtsy as Egwene approached, and Bryne saluted. His eyes were still troubled. He seemed ashamed of his part in the rescue, though Egwene bore him no grievance. He was a man of honor. If he had been bullied into coming along to protect foolhardy Siuan and Gawyn, then Bryne was to be commended for keeping them alive.

As Egwene joined them, she noted that Siuan and Bryne were riding close together. Had Siuan finally admitted her attraction to the man? And . . . there was a certain familiar grace to Bryne now. It was slight enough that she could have just been seeing things, but coupled with the relationship between the two. . . .

"You've taken another Warder, at last?" Egwene asked Siuan.

The woman narrowed her eyes. "Aye," she said.

Bryne did seem surprised, and a tad ashamed.

"Do your best to keep her out of trouble, General," Egwene said, staring Siuan in the eyes. "She has been in quite a bit of it lately. I have half a mind to give her to you to use as a foot soldier. I believe that the military organization might be good for her, and remind her that sometimes, obedience overrides initiative."

Siuan wilted, glancing away.

"I haven't decided what to do with you yet, Siuan," Egwene said in a softer voice. "But my anger has been kindled. And my trust has been lost. You will need to soothe the first and stoke the second if you wish to enter my confidence again."

She turned from Siuan to the general, who looked sick. Probably from being forced to feel Siuan's shame.

"You are to be commended for your bravery, letting her bond you, General," Egwene said, turning to Bryne. "I realize that keeping her from trouble is a nearly impossible charge, but I have confidence in you."

The general relaxed. "I shall do my best, Mother," he said. Then he turned his horse, glancing along the rows of soldiers. "There is something you should see. If you will?"

She nodded, turning her horse and riding beside him down the roadway. The village was cobbled here, the population evacuated, the main thoroughfare lined with thousands of Bryne's soldiers. Siuan accompanied Egwene, and Gawyn followed. Lelaine and Romanda stayed with the other Sitters at a wave of Egwene's hand. Their newfound obedience was proving useful, particularly since they had apparently decided that they would now be trying to outdo one another for Egwene's approval. Likely, they were both vying to be her new Keeper, now that Sheriam was gone.

The general led Egwene to the front lines, and Egwene prepared a weave of Air just in case an arrow was shot in her direction. Siuan eyed her, but said nothing at the precaution. It shouldn't have been needed— Tower Guards would never fire on an Aes Sedai, not even in a conflict like this one. However, the same couldn't be said of Warders, and accidents did happen. It would be very convenient for Elaida if a stray arrow took her rival in the throat.

The cobbles on the roadway gave way to square paving blocks as they passed through Darein, and those gave way to marble squares leading into the Alindaer Bridge, a majestic white construction that spanned the river to Tar Valon. Here was the thing Bryne wanted her to see: Gathered on the other side of the bridge, bunkered down behind a blockade of stones and large logs, was a force of Tower Guard, the Flame of Tar Valon on their tabards. And there couldn't be more than a thousand of them.

Bryne's assault force here was ten thousand strong.

"Now, I know it was never numbers that were keeping us from attacking," Bryne said. "But the Tower Guard should be able to field more men than that, particularly with conscriptions out of the city proper. I doubt they've been spending these months carving pegs by the fire and reminiscing about old times. If Chubain has half a mind, he's been training a new set of recruits."


Tags: Brandon Sanderson Fantasy