The Gathering Storm полностью

“ ‘The Amyrlin understands the most complex of creeds and debates,’ ” Egwene said, quoting from memory. “ ‘Yet in the end, she is the servant of all, even the lowest of laborers.’” That had been said by Balladare Arandaille, the first Amyrlin to be raised from the Brown Ajah. She’d used the words in her last writings before her death; those writings had been an explanation of her reign and what she had done during the Kavarthen wars. Arandaille had felt that once a crisis was passed, it was the moral duty of an Amyrlin to explain herself to the common people.

Sitting beside Elaida, Shevan nodded appreciatively. The quote was somewhat obscure; Egwene blessed Siuan’s quiet training in the wisdom of the former Amyrlins. Much of what she’d said had come from the secret histories, but there had been a number of nuggets from women such as Balladare as well.

“What is this nonsense you’re sputtering?” Elaida spat.

“What did you intend to do with Rand al’Thor once you captured him?” Egwene said, ignoring the comment.

“I don’t—”

“You’re not answering me” Egwene said, nodding to the table of women, “but them. Have you explained yourself, Elaida? What were your plans? Or will you dodge this question just as you have the others I’ve asked?”

Elaida’s face was turning red, but she calmed herself with some effort. “I would have kept him secure, and well shielded, here in the Tower until it was time for the Last Battle. That would have prevented him from causing the suffering and chaos he’s created in many nations. It was worth the risk of angering him.”

“ ‘As the plow breaks the earth shall he break the lives of men, and all that was shall be consumed in the fire of his eyes,’ ” Egwene said. “ ‘The trumpets of war shall sound at his footsteps, the ravens feed at his voice, and he shall wear a crown of swords.’ ”

Elaida frowned, taken aback.

“The Karaethon Cycle, Elaida,” Egwene said. “When you had Rand locked away to be kept ‘secure,’ had he yet taken Illian? Had he yet worn what he was to name the Crown of Swords?”

“Well, no.”

“And how did you expect him to fulfill the prophecies if he was hidden away in the White Tower?” Egwene said. “How was he to cause war, as the prophecies say he must? How was he to break the nations and bind them to him? How could he ‘slay his people with the sword of peace’ or ‘bind the nine moons to serve him’ if he was locked away? Do the prophecies say that he will be ‘unfettered’? Do they not speak of the ‘chaos of his passing?’ How can anything pass at all if he is kept in chains?”

“I—”

“Your logic is astounding, Elaida,” Egwene said coldly. At that, Fer-ane smiled slyly; she was probably thinking yet again that Egwene would fit well in the White Ajah.

“Bah,” Elaida said, “you ask meaningless questions. The prophecies would have to have been fulfilled. There was no other way.”

“So you’re saying that your attempt to bind him was destined to fail.”

“No, not at all,” Elaida said, red-faced again. “We shouldn’t be bothering with this—it’s not for you to decide upon. No, we should be talking about your rebels, and what they’ve done to the White Tower!”

A good turn of the conversation, an attempt to put Egwene on the defensive. Elaida wasn’t completely incompetent. Just arrogant.

“I see them trying to heal the rift between us,” Egwene said. “We cannot change what has happened. We can’t change what you did to Siuan, even if those with me did discover a method of Healing her stilling. We can only move forward and try our best to smooth the scars. What are you doing, Elaida? Refusing talks, trying to bully the Sitters into withdrawing? Insulting Ajahs that are not your own?”

Doesine, of the Yellow, gave a quiet murmur of agreement. That drew Elaida’s eyes, and she fell silent for a moment, as if realizing that she had lost control of the debate. “Enough of this.”

“Coward,” Egwene said.

Elaida’s eyes flared wide. “How dare you!”

“I dare the truth, Elaida,” Egwene said quietly. “You are a coward and a tyrant. I’d name you Darkfriend as well, but I suspect that the Dark One would perhaps be embarrassed to associate with you.”

Elaida screeched, weaving in a flash of Power, slamming Egwene back against the wall, toppling the pitcher of wine from her hands. It shattered on a patch of wooden floor beside the rug, throwing a spray of bloodlike liquid across the table and half of its occupants, staining the white tablecloth with a smear of red.

“You name me Darkfriend?” Elaida screamed. “You are the Darkfriend. You and those rebels outside, who seek to distract me from doing what must be done.”

A blast of woven Air slammed Egwene against the wall again, and she dropped to the ground, hitting shards of the broken pitcher that sliced open her arms. A dozen switches beat her, ripping her clothing. Blood seeped from her arms, and it began to splash into the air, smirching the wall as Elaida beat her.

“Elaida, stop it!” Rubinde said, standing, green dress swishing. “Are you mad?”