She had loved this place—not the Stone, but Tel’aran’rhiod. It had taught her so much. But she knew, as she prepared to leave, that it was like a river in dangerous flood. Familiar and loved it might be, but she could not risk herself here. Not while the White Tower needed her.
“And farewell to you, old friend,” she said to the air. “Until I dream again.”
She let herself wake.
Gawyn waited beside the bed, as usual. They were back in the Tower, Egwene fully dressed, in the chamber near her study. It was not yet evening, but the request from the Wise One was not something she had wished to ignore.
“He’s here,” Gawyn said quietly, glancing at the door to her study.
“Then let us meet him,” Egwene said. She prepared herself, rising, smoothing her skirt. She nodded to Gawyn, and they stepped out and went to meet the Dragon Reborn.
Rand smiled when he saw her. He waited inside with two Maidens she did not know.
“What is this about?” Egwene asked tiredly. “Convincing me to break the seals?”
“You’ve grown cynical,” Rand noted.
“The last two times we met,” Egwene said, “you pointedly tried to infuriate me. Am I not to expect it again?”
“I am not trying to infuriate you,” Rand said. “Look, here.” He pulled something from his pocket. A hair ribbon. He held it out to her. “You always looked forward so to being able to braid your hair.”
“So now you imply I’m a child?” Egwene asked, exasperated. Gawyn rested a hand on her shoulder, comforting.
“What? No!” Rand sighed. “Light, Egwene. I want to make amends. You’re like a sister to me; I never had siblings. Or, at least, the one I have doesn’t know me. I only have you. Please. I’m not trying to rile you.”
For a moment, he seemed just as he had long ago. An innocent boy, earnest. Egwene let her frustration melt away. “Rand, I’m busy. We are busy. There isn’t time for things like this. Your armies are impatient.”
“Their time will soon come,” Rand said, growing harder. “Before this is through, they will wonder why they were so eager, and will look with longing at these restful days waiting.” He still held the ribbon in his hand, forming a fist. “I just… I didn’t want to go to my fight with our last meeting having been an argument, even if it was an important one.”
“Oh, Rand,” Egwene said. She stepped forward, taking the ribbon. She embraced him. Light, but he’d been difficult to deal with lately—but she’d thought the same thing about her parents on occasion. “I support you. It doesn’t mean I’m going to do as you say with the seals, but I do support you.”
Egwene released Rand. She would not be teary-eyed. Even if it did seem like a last parting for them.
“Wait,” Gawyn said. “Sibling? You have a sibling?”
“I am the son of Tigraine,” Rand said, shrugging, “born after she went to the Waste and became a Maiden.”
Gawyn looked stunned, though Egwene had figured this out ages ago. “You are Galad’s brother?” Gawyn asked.
“Half-brother,” Rand said. “Not that it would probably mean much to a Whitecloak. We had the same mother. His father, like yours, was Taringail, but mine was an Aiel.”
“I think Galad would surprise you,” Gawyn said softly. “But Elayne…”
“Not to tell you your own family history, but Elayne is not related to me.” Rand turned to Egwene. “May I see them? The seals. Before I go to Shayol Ghul, I would look upon
them one last time. I promise not to do anything with them.”
Reluctantly, she fished them from the pouch at her waist where she often kept them. Gawyn, still looking stunned, walked to the window and pushed it open, letting light into the room. The White Tower felt still… silent. Its armies were gone, its masters at war.
She unwrapped the first seal and handed it to Rand. She would not give him all of them at once. Just in case. She did trust his word; it was Rand after all, but… just in case.
Rand held up the seal, staring at it, as if seeking wisdom in that sinuous line. “I crafted these,” he whispered. “I made them to never break. But I knew, as I did it, that they would eventually fail. Everything eventually fails when he touches it…”
Egwene hefted another of the seals, holding it gingerly. It would not do to break the thing by accident. She kept them wrapped and the pouch stuffed with cloth; she worried about breaking them while carrying them, but Moiraine had indicated that Egwene would break them.
She felt that was foolish, but the words she had read, the things Moiraine had said… Well, if the moment did come to break them, Egwene would need to have them at hand. And so she carried them—carried with her the potential death of the world itself.
Rand suddenly went as white as a sheet. “Egwene,” he said. “This does not fool me.”