Once Meidani was gone with the corpse and the tea, Egwene lit another candle, then lay down on her bed, trying not to think of the body that had occupied it previously. She relaxed herself, thinking of Siuan. The woman would be going to sleep soon. She needed to be warned about Sheriam and the others.
Egwene opened her eyes in Tel’aran’rhiod. She was in her room, or at least the dream version of it. The bed was made, the door closed. She changed her dress to that of a stately green gown fitting an Amyrlin, then moved herself to the Tower’s Spring Garden. Siuan wasn’t there yet, but it was probably still a little early for their meeting.
Here, at least, one could see none of the filth that piled up in the city or the corruption that worked at the roots of Ajah unity. The Tower gardeners moved like natural forces, planting, cultivating, and harvesting as Amyrlins rose and fell. The Spring Garden was smaller than most of the other Tower gardens; it was a triangular plot of land pressed between two walls. Perhaps in another city, this plot would have been used for storage or simply filled in with stone. But in the White Tower, both options would have been unsightly.
The solution was a small garden full of plants that thrived in the shade. Hydrangeas ran up the walls and surged around planters. Bleeding hearts sat in rows, with their tiny pink blossoms drooping from delicate three-pronged compound leaves. Flowering bristleboughs, with their thin, fingerlike leaves, and other small shade trees ran along the insides of the triangular walls, meeting in a single point.
Walking up and down the lines of trees as she waited, Egwene thought of Sheriam being Black. How many things had the woman had a hand in? She’d been Mistress of Novices for years during Siuan’s tenure as Amyrlin. Had she used her position to bully, perhaps to turn, other sisters? Had she been behind the attack of the Gray Man so long ago?
Sheriam had been part of the group that Healed Mat. Surely she could have done nothing malicious while in a circle with so many other women—but anything involving the woman was suspect. That was so much! Sheriam had been one of those in charge of Salidar before Egwene’s rise to power. What had Sheriam done, how much manipulation had she exerted then, how much had she betrayed to the Shadow?
Had she been aware ahead of time of Elaida’s plans to depose Siuan? Galina and Alviarin were Black, and they had been two of the main instigators, so it seemed likely other Blacks had been warned. Were the exodus of half of the Tower, the gathering in Salidar, and the subsequent waiting and debating all part of the Dark One’s plan? What of Egwene’s own rise to power? How many of the Shadow’s strings did she dance on without knowing it?
This is an exercise in futility, she told herself firmly. Don’t go down that path. Even without Verin’s books, Egwene had suspected that the breaking of the Tower was the Dark One’s work. Of course he would be pleased that the Aes Sedai had split in two, rather than unifying behind one leader.
It was just more . . . personal now. Egwene felt dirtied, she felt duped. For a moment, she felt herself to be the country girl many thought her to be. If Elaida had been a pawn for the Blacks, then so had she. Light! How the Dark One must have laughed to see two rival Amyrlins, each with one of his loyal minions at her side, pitting them against one another.
I can’t be certain exactly what he wants or why he wants it, Verin had said. Even after years of study, I can’t be certain. . . . Who knew whether the Dark One laughed?
She shivered. Whatever his plan, she would fight him. Resist him. Spit in his eye, even if he won, just as the Aiel said.
“Well, that’s a sight,” Siuan’s voice said.
Egwene spun, realizing with chagrin that she no longer wore the dress of the Amyrlin, but a full suit of armor like a soldier riding to battle. In her hand, she carried a pair of Aiel spears.
She banished armor and spears with a thought, resuming the dress. “Siuan,” she said curtly. “You may want to summon yourself a chair. Something has happened.”
Siuan frowned. “What?”
“First off, Sheriam and Moria are Black Ajah.”
“What?” Siuan said, shocked. “What nonsense is this?” She froze. “Mother,” she added belatedly.
“It is not nonsense,” Egwene said. “The truth, I’m afraid. There are others, but I will have to give you their names later. We can’t yet take them into custody. I need time to plan and think, an evening perhaps. We will strike soon. But until we do, I want Sheriam and Moria watched. Don’t be alone around them.”
Siuan shook her head in disbelief. “How certain are you about this, Egwene?”
“Certain enough,” Egwene said. “Watch them, Siuan, and be thinking of what to do. I’ll want to hear your suggestions. We’ll need a way to take them quietly, then prove to the Hall that what we’ve done is justified.”
“This could be dangerous.” Siuan rubbed her chin. “I hope you know what you are doing, Mother.” She emphasized the last word.
“If I err,” Egwene said, “then it will be on my head. But I don’t think that I do. As I said, much has changed.”
Siuan bowed her head. “Are you still captive?”
“Not exactly. Elaida has—” Egwene hesitated, frowning to herself. Something was wrong.
“Egwene?” Siuan asked, anxious.
“I. . . .” Egwene began, then shuddered. Something was pulling on her mind, clouding it. Something was . . .
Pulling her back. Tel’aran’rhiod winked away and Egwene opened her eyes back in her room, an anxious Nicola shaking her arm. “Mother,” she was saying. “Mother!”
The girl had a bloody gash on her cheek. Egwene sat up sharply, and at that moment the entire Tower shook as if from an explosion. Nicola grabbed her arm, yelping in fright.
“What is going on?” Egwene demanded.
“Shadowspawn!” Nicola cried. “In the air, serpents that throw flame and weaves of the One Power! They’re destroying us! Oh, Mother. It’s Tarmon Gai’don!”