The Gathering Storm

And it was just the beginning.

"I am well, Min," he said. "I was thinking."

"About the people?" Min asked. The wooden walks of Bandar Eban were filled with people. Rand no longer saw the colors of their clothing; he saw how worn that clothing was. He saw the rips in the magnificent fabric, the threadbare patches, the dirt and the stains. Virtually everyone in Bandar Eban was a refugee of one sort or another. They watched him with haunted eyes.

Each time he'd conquered a kingdom before, he'd left it better than when he'd arrived. Rand had removed Forsaken tyrants, brought an end to warfare and sieges. He'd cast out Shaido invaders, he'd delivered food, he'd created stability. Each land he'd destroyed had, essentially, been saved at the same time.

Arad Doman was different. He'd brought in food—but that food had drawn even more refugees, straining his supplies. Not only had he failed to give them peace with the Seanchan, he had appropriated their only troops and sent them up to watch the Borderlands. The seas were still unsafe. The tiny Seanchan empress hadn't trusted him. She would continue her attacks, perhaps double them.

The Domani would be trampled beneath the hooves of war, crushed between the invading Trollocs to the north and the Seanchan to the south. And Rand was leaving them.

Somehow, the people realized that, and it was very hard for Rand to look at them. Their hungry eyes accused him: Why bring hope, then let it dry up, like a newly dug well during a drought? Why force us to accept you as our ruler, only to abandon us?

Flinn and Naeff had ridden before him; he could see their black coats ahead as they sat their horses watching Rand's procession approach the city square. The pins sparkled on their high collars. The fountain in the square still flowed among gleaming copper horses leaping from copper waves. Which of those silent Domani continued to shine the fountain, when no king ruled and half the merchant council was lost?

Rand's Aiel hadn't been able to track down enough of the council to form a majority; he suspected that Graendal had killed or captured enough of them to keep a new king from ever being chosen. If any of the merchant council members had been pretty enough, they'd have joined the ranks of her pets—which meant that Rand had killed them.

Ah, Lews Therin said. Names I can add to the list. Yes. . . .

Bashere rode up beside Rand, knuckling his mustaches, looking thoughtful. "Your will is done," he said.

"Lady Chadmar?" Rand asked.

"Returned to her mansion," Bashere said. "We've done the same with the other four members of the merchant council the Aiel were holding near the city."

"They understand what they are to do?"

"Yes," Bashere said, sighing. "But I don't think they'll do it. If you ask me, the moment we're gone they'll bolt from the city like thieves fleeing a prison once the guards leave."

Rand gave no reaction. He'd ordered the merchant council to choose new members, then pick a king. But Bashere was probably right. Already, Rand had reports from the other cities along the coast, where he'd told his Aiel to withdraw. The city leaders were vanishing, running before the presumed Seanchan assault.

Arad Doman, as a kingdom, was finished. Like a table laden with too much weight, it would soon collapse. It is not my problem, Rand thought, not looking at the people. / did everything I could.

That wasn't true. Though he'd wanted to help the Domani, his real reasons for coming had been to deal with the Seanchan, to find out what had happened to the king, and to track down Graendal. Not to mention to secure what he could of the Borderlands.

"What news from Ituralde?" Rand asked.

"Nothing good, I'm afraid," Bashere said grimly. "He's had skirmishes with Trollocs, but you knew that already. The Shadowspawn always withdraw quickly, but he warns that something is gathering. His scouts catch glimpses of forces large enough to overrun him. If the Trollocs are gathering there, then they're likely gathering elsewhere as well. Particularly the Gap."

he thought, closing her eyes again. Good. Such a pleasant dream. She smiled.

Wait. No. That wasn't right. She wasn't supposed to be leaving the Tower. She tried to voice complaint, but she could barely mumble.

"Fish guts," she heard Siuan Sanche say. "What did they do to her?"

"Is she wounded?" another voice. Gareth Bryne.

No, Egwene thought numbly. No, you have to let me go. 1 can't leave. Not now. . . .

"They just left her there, Siuan," Gawyn said. His voice was so nice to hear. "Defenseless in the hallway! Anyone could have come upon her like that. What if the Seanchan had discovered her?"

I destroyed them, she thought with a smile, thoughts slipping away from her. I was a burning warrior, a hero called by the Horn. They won't dare face me again. She almost fell asleep, but being jostled by Gawyn's steps kept her awake. Barely.

"Ho!" She distantly heard Siuan's voice. "What's this? Light, Egwene! Where did you get this? This is the most powerful one in the Tower!"

"What is it, Siuan?" Bryne's voice asked.

"Our way out," Siuan said distantly. Egwene sensed something. Channeling. Powerful channeling. "You asked about sneaking back out with all the activity in the courtyard? Well, with this, I'm strong enough for Traveling. Let's go collect those soldiers with the boats and hop back to camp."