I have not finished with you, Egwene thought.
“Let’s go,” she said, turning, waving for Yukiri to close the gateway to Mat’s building. She fingered Vora’s sa’angreal, held in one hand as she strode out of her tent.
She hesitated when she saw something there. Something slight, on the ground. Tiny spiderweb cracks in the rocks. She bent down.
“There are more and more of those around, Mother,” Yukiri said, stooping down beside her. “We think that when Dreadlords channel, the cracks can spread. Particularly if balefire is used…”
Egwene felt them. Though they seemed like ordinary cracks to the touch, they looked down into pure nothing. Blackness, far too deep for simple cracks to have caused through shadows of the light.
She wove. All five powers, together, testing at the cracks. Yes…
She wasn’t certain exactly what she did, but the fledgling weave covered the cracks like a bandage. The darkness faded, leaving behind only ordinary cracks—and a thin film of crystals.
“Interesting,” Yukiri said. “What was that weave?”
“I don’t know,” Egwene said. “It felt right. Gawyn, have you…” She trailed off.
Gawyn.
Egwene stood up with a start. She vaguely remembered him leaving her command tent for some air. How long ago had it been? She turned around slowly, sensing where he was. The bond let her tell his direction. She stopped when she was pointing toward him.
She was looking toward the riverbed, just up from the ford, where Mat had positioned Elayne’s forces.
Oh, Light…
“What?” Silviana asked.
“Gawyn has gone to fight,” Egwene said, keeping her voice calm with effort. That wool-headed idiot of a man! Could he not wait an hour or two until her armies were in position? She knew that he was eager to fight, but he should have at least asked!
Bryne groaned softly.
“Send someone to fetch him,” Egwene said. Now her voice was cold, angry. She could not make it otherwise. “He has apparently joined the Andoran armies.”
“I will do it,” Bryne said, one hand on his sword, his other arm raised toward one of the grooms. “I cannot be trusted to lead armies. At least I can do this.”
It made sense. “Take Yukiri with you,” she said. “Once you’ve found my fool Warder, Travel to us west of the bogs.”
Bryne bowed, then retreated. Siuan watched him, hesitant.
“You may go with him,” Egwene said.
“Is that where you need me?” Siuan asked.
“Actually…” Egwene lowered her voice. “I want someone to join Mat and the Seanchan Empress and listen with ears accustomed to hearing what is not spoken.”
Siuan nodded, approval—even pride—in her expression. Egwene was Amyrlin; she had no need of either emotion from Siuan, and yet it lifted a little of her grinding fatigue.
“You look amused,” Egwene said.
“When Moiraine and I set out to find the boy,” Siuan said, “I had no idea the Pattern would send you to us as well.”
“Your replacement?” Egwene said.
“As a queen ages,” Siuan said, “she begins to think about her legacy. Light, every goodwife probably starts to think the same things. Will she have an heir to hold what she has created? As a woman grows in wisdom, she realizes that what she alone can accomplish pales compared to what her legacy can achieve.
“Well, I suppose I can’t claim you entirely as my own, and I wasn’t exactly pleased to be succeeded. But it is… comforting to know I’ve had a hand in shaping what is to come. And if a woman were to wish for a legacy, she could not dream of greater than one such as you. Thank you. I’ll watch this Seanchan woman for you, maybe help poor Min crawl out of the fang-fish net she’s found herself in.”
Siuan moved away, calling for Yukiri to make her a gateway before going with Bryne. Egwene smiled, watching her give the general a kiss. Siuan. Kissing a man in the open.