Towers of Midnight (The Wheel of Time 13)

"I know," Egwene said. "Unfortunately, there's nobody else I can ask. I need more dream ter'angreal!'

"I might be able to manage," Elayne said. "Assuming I can start channeling reliably."

"What happened to the dream ter'angreal you had?" Nynaeve asked Egwene.

"Stolen," Egwene said. "By Sheriam who, by the way, was Black Ajah."

The two gasped, and Egwene realized that the revelation of the hundreds of Black sisters was unknown to them. She took a deep breath. "Steel yourselves," she said. "I've got a painful story for you. Before the Seanchan attack, Verin came to "

At that moment, the bell went off in her head again. Egwene willed herself to move. The room blinked around her, and she was suddenly standing outside in the hallway, where her wards were set.

She came face-to-face with Talva, a thin woman with a bun of golden hair. She had once been of the Yellow Ajah, but was one of the Black sisters who had fled the Tower.

Weaves of Fire sprang up around Talva, but Egwene had already begun working on a shield. She slammed it between the other woman and the Source, immediately weaving Air to snare her.

A sound came from behind. Egwene didn't think; she moved herself, relying on practiced familiarity with Tel'aran'rhiod. She appeared behind a woman who was letting loose a jet of Fire. Alviarin.

Egwene snarled, beginning another shield as Alviarin's wave of Fire hit the unfortunate Talva, causing her to scream as her flesh burned. Alviarin spun, then yelped, vanishing.

Burn her! Egwene thought. Alviarin was at the very top of the list of people she wanted captured. The hallway fell still, Talva's corpse blackened and smoking slumping to the ground. She'd never awaken; die here, and one died in the real world.

Egwene shivered; that murderous weave had been meant for her. / relied too much on channeling, she thought. Thought happens more quickly than weaves can be made. I should have imagined ropes around Alviarin.

No, Alviarin would still have been able to jump away from ropes. Egwene hadn't been thinking like a Dreamer. Lately, her mind had been on the Aes Sedai and their problems, and weaves had come naturally to her. But she couldn't let herself forget that in this place, thought was more powerful than the One Power.

Egwene looked up as Nynaeve barreled out of the Hall, Elayne following more cautiously. "I sensed channeling," Nynaeve said. She looked at the burned corpse. "Light!"

"Black sisters," Egwene said, folding her arms. "It seems they're making good use of those dream ter'angreal. I'd guess they're under orders to

prowl the White Tower at night. Perhaps looking for us, perhaps looking for information to use against us." Egwene and the others had done that very thing during Elaida's reign.

"We shouldn't have met here," Nynaeve said. "Next time, we'll use a different place." She hesitated. "If it suits you, Mother."

"It might," Egwene said. "It might not. We'll never defeat them unless we can find them."

"Walking into traps is hardly the best way to defeat them, Mother," Nynaeve said flatly.

"Depends on your preparation," Egwene said. She frowned. Had she just seen a flutter of black cloth, ducking around a corner? Egwene was there in a moment; Elayne's startled curse sounded down the hallway behind her. My, but the woman had a tongue on her.

The place was empty. Eerie, almost too silent. That was normal in Tel'aran'rbiod.

Egwene remained full of the One Power, but moved back to the other two. She had cleansed the White Tower, but an infestation remained, hiding at its heart.

I will find you, Mesaana, Egwene thought, then waved for the others to join her. They moved to the hillside where she'd been earlier, a place where she could give a more detailed explanation of events they'd missed.

CHAPTER 15

Use a Pebble

Nynaeve hastened through the paved streets of Tear, the Asha'man Naeff at her side. She could still feel that storm to the north, distant but terrible. Unnatural. And it was moving southward. Lan was up there. "Light protect him," she whispered. "What was that, Nynaeve Sedai?" Naeff asked.

"Nothing." Nynaeve was getting used to having the black-coated men around. She did not feel an uncomfortable chill when she looked at Naeff. That would be silly. Saidin had been cleansed, with her own help. No need to be uncomfortable. Even if the Asha'man did sometimes stare off into nothing, muttering to themselves. Like Naeff, who was looking into the shadow of a nearby building, hand on his sword.

"Careful, Nynaeve Sedai," he said. "There's another Myrddraal following us."

"You're . . . certain, Naeff?"

The tall, rectangular-faced man nodded. He was talented with weaves particularly Air, which was unusual for a man and he was very polite to Aes Sedai, unlike some of the other Asha'man. "Yes, I'm certain," he said. "I don't know why I can see them and others cannot. I must have a Talent for it. They hide in shadows, scouts of some sort, I think. They haven't struck yet; I think they're wary because they know I can see them."