The Gathering Storm

Within minutes, Egwene s little procession of three began to pass more and more people in the hallways. Sisters of all Ajahs, looking busy—yet their steps slowed as they watched Egwene pass. Accepted in their banded dresses were far less covert; they stood at intersections, gawking as Egwene was led past. In all of their eyes there was surprise. Why was she free? They seemed tense. Had something happened that Egwene wasn't aware of?

"Ah, Egwene," a voice said as they passed a hallway. "Excellent, you are already free. I would speak with you."

Egwene turned with shock to see Saerin, the purposeful Brown Sitter.

The scar on the woman's cheek always made her seem far more . . . daunting than most other Aes Sedai, an air enhanced by the white locks of hair, indicating her great age. Few members of the Brown could be described as intimidating, but Saerin was certainly one of that select group.

"We are taking her to her rooms," Barasine said.

"Well, I will speak to her as you do," Saerin said calmly.

"She is not to—"

"You deny me, Red? A Sitter?" Saerin asked.

Barasine blushed. "The Amyrlin will not be pleased to hear of this."

"Then run along and tell her," Saerin said. "While I discuss some items of import with young al'Vere." She eyed the Reds. "Give us some room, if you please."

The two Reds failed to stare her down, then backed away. Egwene watched with curiosity. It appeared that the authority of the Amyrlin— indeed, that of her entire Ajah—was somewhat dimmed. Saerin turned to Egwene and gestured, and the two of them began to walk together through the hallway, the Red sisters following behind.

"You take a risk being seen speaking to me like this," Egwene said.

Saerin sniffed. "Leaving one's quarters is taking a risk, these days. I'm growing too frustrated with events to bother with niceties anymore." She paused, then glanced at Egwene. "Besides. Being seen in your company can be rather worth that risk, these days. I wanted to determine something."

"What?" Egwene asked, curious.

"Well, I actually wanted to see if they could be pushed around. Most of the members of the Red are not taking your release well. They see it as a major failing on Elaida's part."

"She should have killed me," Egwene said with a nod. "Days ago."

"That would have been seen as a failure."

"As much a failure as being forced to remove Silviana?" Egwene asked. "Of suddenly deciding that your Mistress of Novices is to blame, a week after the fact?"

"Is that what they told you?" Saerin asked, smiling as they walked, her eyes forward. "That Elaida 'suddenly' came to this decision, all on her own?"

Egwene raised an eyebrow.

"Silviana demanded to be heard by the full Hall while it was sitting," Saerin explained. "She stood before the lot of us, before Elaida herself, and insisted that your treatment was unlawful. Which, likely, it was.

this group would still dance. They would dance right up until the day when the Pattern burned away, whether or not they found their song, whether or not Trollocs ravaged the world or the Dragon Reborn destroyed it.

Had she let herself lose sight of those things which were most precious? Why did she fight so hard to secure the White Tower? For power? For pride? Or because she felt it really was best for the world?

Was she going to suck herself dry as she fought this battle? She had chosen—or, would have chosen—the Green and not the Blue. The difference wasn't just that she liked the way the Greens stood up and fought; she thought that the Blues were too focused. Life was more complicated than a single cause. Life was about living. About dreaming, laughing and dancing.

Gawyn was in the Aes Sedai camp. She said that she'd chosen the Green for its aggressive determination—it was the Battle Ajah. But a more secret, more honest, part of herself admitted that Gawyn was a motivation for her decision as well. Among the Green Ajah, marrying one's Warder was common. Egwene would have Gawyn for her Warder. And her husband.

She loved him. She would bond him. Those desires of her heart were less important than the fate of the world, true, but they were still important.

Egwene rose from the steps as her dress transformed back into the white and silver gown of the Amyrlin. She took a step forward and let the world shift.

She stood before the White Tower. She turned her eyes high, running them along the length of the delicate—yet still powerful—white spire. Though the sky bubbled in black turmoil, something cast a shadow from the Tower, and it fell directly on Egwene. Was this a vision of some sort? The Tower dwarfed her, and she felt its weight, as if she were holding it up herself. Pushing on those walls, keeping them from cracking and tumbling.

She stood for a long while there, sky boiling, the Tower's perfect spire throwing its shadow down on Egwene. She stared up at its peak, trying to decide if it was time to just let it fall.

No, she thought again. No, not quite yet. A few more days.