“Well, she can’t very well be blamed for that.” Egwene let down her guard enough to show a grimace. “I’d be tempted to bet against myself, if I were on the outside. You’ll simply have to deal with her, Siuan. I can’t let myself be distracted. Not when I see so much potential for success here, and not when there is an even greater price for failure.”
Siuan knew that stubborn set to Egwene’s jaw. There would be no persuading her tonight. Siuan would simply have to try again during their next meeting.
All of it—the cleansing, the Asha’man, the crumbling of the Tower—made her shiver uncomfortably. Though she’d been preparing for these days for most of her life, it was still unsettling to have them finally arrive. “The Last Battle really is coming,” Siuan said, mostly to herself.
“It is,” Egwene said, voice solemn.
“And I’m going to face it with barely a lick of my former power,” Siuan said, grimacing.
“Well, perhaps we can get you an
Siuan smiled. “That would be nice, but not necessary. I’m just grumbling out of habit, suppose. I’m actually learning to deal with my . . . new situation. It’s not so difficult to stomach, now that I see that it has some advantages.”
Egwene frowned, as if trying to figure out what advantages there could be in lessened power. Finally, she shook her head. “Elayne once mentioned a room to me in the Tower, filled with objects of power. I assume it really exists?”
“Of course,” Siuan said. “The basement storeroom. It’s in the second level of the basement, on the northeast side. Little room with a plain wooden door, but you can’t miss it. It’s the only one in the hallway that is locked.”
Egwene nodded to herself. “Well, I can’t defeat Elaida through brute force. Still, it is nice to know of that. Is there anything else remarkable to report?”
“Not at the moment, Mother,” Siuan said.
“Then return and get some sleep.” Egwene hesitated. “And next time, we’ll meet in two days. Here in the novices’ dining hall, though we may want to begin meeting out in the city. I don’t trust this place. If there was a Forsaken in our camp, I’d bet half my father’s inn that there’s one spying on the White Tower too.”
Siuan nodded. “Very well.” She closed her eyes, and soon found herself blinking awake back in Bryne’s tent. The candle was out, and she could hear Bryne breathing quietly from his pallet on the other side of the tent. She sat up and looked across at him, though it was too dark to see anything more than shadows. Strangely, after talking about Forsaken and Asha’man, the sturdy general’s presence comforted her.
Shaking her head, she tucked the dream
She’d forgo the mice, just this once.
A cool spring breeze tickled Perrin’s face. Such a breeze should have carried with it the scents of pollen and crisp morning dew, of dirt overturned by sprouts pushing into the light, of new life and an earth reborn.
This breeze carried with it only the scents of blood and death.
Perrin turned his back to the breeze, knelt down and inspected the wagon’s wheels. The vehicle was a sturdy construction of hickory, wood darkened with age. It appeared to be in good repair, but Perrin had learned to be careful when dealing with equipment from Maiden. The Shaido didn’t scorn wagons and oxen as they did horses, but they—like all Aiel—believed in traveling light. They hadn’t maintained the wagons or carts, and Perrin had found more than one hidden flaw during his inspection.
“Next!” he bellowed as he checked the first wheel’s hub. The comment was directed at the crowd of people waiting to speak with him.
“My Lord,” a voice said. It was deep and rough, like wood scraping against wood. Gerard Arganda, First Captain of Ghealdan. His scent was of well-oiled armor. “I must press the issue of our departure. Allow me to ride ahead with Her Majesty.”
The “Her Majesty” he referred to was Alliandre, Queen of Ghealdan. Perrin continued working with the wheel; he wasn’t as familiar with carpentry as he was with smithing, but his father had taught each of his sons to recognize signs of trouble in a wagon. Better to fix the problem before leaving than to be stranded halfway to the destination. Perrin ran his fingers across the smooth, brown hickory. The grain was clearly visible, and he tested for cracks with questing fingers, searching each point of stress. All four wheels looked good.
“My Lord?” Arganda asked.
