The Gathering Storm - Page 56

Not much different from what his own people did in gentling men, truth be told. "Saidin is cleansed now," he said to her. "This practice must stop."

She pursed her lips, regarding him. "Your . . . man spoke of this, Coramoor. Some find it difficult to accept."

"It is true," he said firmly.

"I do not doubt that you believe it to be so."

Rand gritted his teeth, forcing down another burst of anger, his hand forming a fist. He had cleansed the taint! He, Rand al'Thor, had performed a deed the likes of which had not been seen since the Age of Legends. And how was it treated? With suspicion and doubt. Most assumed that he was going mad, and therefore seeing a "cleansing" that had not really happened.

Men who could channel were always distrusted. Yet they were the only ones who could confirm what Rand said! He'd imagined joy and wonder at the victory, but he should have known better. Though male Aes Sedai had once been as respected as their female counterparts, that had been long ago. The days of Jorlen Corbesan had been lost in time. All people could remember now was the Breaking and the Madness.

They hated male channelers. Yet, in following Rand, they served one. Did they not see the contradiction? How could he convince them that there was no longer reason to murder men who could touch the One Power? He needed them! Why, there might be another Jorlen Corbesan among the very men the Sea Folk tossed into the ocean!

He froze. Jorlen Corbesan had been one of the most talented Aes Sedai before the Breaking, a man who had crafted some of the most amazing ter'angreal Rand had ever seen. Except Rand had not seen them. Those were Lews Therin's memories, not his. Jorlen s research facility of Sharom had been destroyed—the man himself killed—by the backlash of Power from the Bore.

Oh, Light, Rand thought with despair. I'm losing myself. Losing myself in him.

The most terrifying part was that Rand could no longer make himself wish to banish Lews Therin. Lews Therin had known a way to seal the Bore, if imperfectly, but Rand had no idea how to approach the task. The safety of the world might depend on the memories of a dead madman.

Many of the people around Rand appeared shocked, and Harine's eyes were both uncomfortable and a little frightened. Rand had been muttering to himself again, he realized, and he cut off abruptly.

"I accept your answer," he said stiffly. "What is your question of me?"

"I will ask it later," she said. "Once I have had a chance to consider."

"As you wish." He turned away, his retinue of Aes Sedai, Maidens and attendants following. "The Traveling ground guards will see you to your room and carry your luggage." There was a veritable mountain of that. "Flinn, to me!"

The elderly Asha'man jumped through the gateway, motioning for the last of the porters to trot back to the docks on the other side. He let the portal twist back into a slash of light and vanish, then hurried after Rand. He spared a glance and a smile for Corele, who had bonded him as her Warder.

"I apologize for taking so long to return, Lord Dragon." Flinn had a leathery face and only a few wisps of hair on his head. He looked a lot like some of the farmers Rand had known back in Emond's Field, though he had been a soldier for most of his life. Flinn had come to Rand because he wanted to learn Healing. Rand had turned him into a weapon instead.

"You did as ordered," Rand said, walking back toward the green. He wanted to blame Harine for the prejudices of an entire world, but that was not fair. He needed a better way, a way to make everyone see.

"I've never been exceptional at making gateways," Flinn continued. "Not like Androl. I needed to—"

"Flinn," Rand said, cutting in. "Enough."

The Asha'man blushed. "I apologize, my Lord Dragon."

To the side, Corele laughed softly, patting Flinn on the shoulder. "Don't mind him, Darner,' she said in a lilting Murandian accent. "He's been as surly as a winter thunderhead all morning."

Rand glared at her, but she just smiled good-naturedly. Regardless of what the Aes Sedai thought of men who could channel in general, the ones who had taken Asha'man as Warders seemed as protective of them as mothers of their children. She had bonded one of his men, but that did not change the fact that Flinn was one of his men. An Asha'man first and foremost, a Warder second.

"What do you think, Elza?" Rand said, turning from Corele to the other Aes Sedai. "About the taint and what Harine said?"

The round-faced woman hesitated. She walked with hands behind her back, dark green dress marked only by subtle embroideries. Utilitarian, for an Aes Sedai. "If my Lord Dragon says that the taint has been cleansed," the woman said carefully, "then it is certainly improper to express doubt of him where others can hear."

Rand grimaced. An Aes Sedai answer for certain. Oath or no oath, Elza did as she wished.

"Oh, we were both there at Shadar Logoth," Corele said, rolling her eyes. "We saw what you did, Rand. Besides, I can feel male power through dear Damer here when we link. It has changed. The taint is gone. Right as sunlight, it is, though channeling the male half still feels like wrestling with a summer whirlwind."

"Yes," Elza said, "but be that as it is, you must realize how difficult it will be for others to believe this, Lord Dragon. During the Time of Madness, it took decades for some people to accept that the male Aes Sedai were doomed to go insane. It will likely take longer for them to overcome their distrust, now that it has been ingrained for so long."

Rand gritted his teeth. He had reached a small hill at the side of the camp, just beside the bulwark. He continued up to the top, Aes Sedai following. Here, a short wooden platform had been erected—a fire tower for launching arrows over the bulwark.

Rand stopped at the top of the hill, Maidens surrounding him. He barely noticed the soldiers who saluted him as he looked over the Sal-daean camp with its neat tent lines.

Was this all he would leave to the world? A taint cleansed, yet men still killed or exiled for something they could not help? He had bound most nations to him. Yet he knew well that the tighter one tied a bale, the sharper the snap of the cords when they were cut. What would happen when he died? Wars and devastation to match the Breaking? He hadn't been able to help that last time, for his madness and grief at Hyena's death had consumed him. Could he prevent something similar this time? Did he have a choice?

Tags: Brandon Sanderson Fantasy
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