The Gathering Storm

Egwene had a feeling. A premonition, perhaps. At the very least, a fear. These three names were the only ones who could have been the Forsaken. But none of them fit, not at all. That gave her a chill. Was Mesaana still hiding in the Tower?

If so, she somehow knew how to defeat the Oath Rod.

A soft knock came at her door. It cracked a moment later. "Mother?" Silviana asked.

Egwene looked up, raising her eyebrows.

"I thought you might want to see this," Silviana said, entering, her hair back in its tidy black bun, the red Keeper's stole around her shoulders.

"What is it?"

"You should come and see."

Curious, Egwene rose. There was no tension to Silviana's voice, so it couldn't be anything too dire. The two of them left the study behind, walking around the outside of the building to the Hall of the Tower. When they reached it, Egwene raised an eyebrow. Silviana gestured for her to enter.

The Hall wasn't in session, and the chairs sat empty. A scattering of mason's tools lay on white sheets in the corner, and a group of workers in thick brown overalls and white shirts—sleeves rolled up—were collected in front of the gap in the wall that the Seanchan had left. Egwene had ordered a rose window fitted into the opening instead of having it sealed up completely, a remembrance for the time the White Tower had been attacked. A warning to prevent its happening again. Before the window could be installed, however, stonemasons were busy shoring up the sides and creating the fitting.

Egwene and Silviana glided into the room, walking down the short ramp to the floor, which had again been properly painted with the colors of all seven Ajahs. The stonemasons saw them, then backed away respectfully, one man pulling off his cap and clutching it to his chest. Reaching the edge of the room, just before the opening, Egwene finally saw what Silviana had brought her to see.

After all this time, the clouds had finally broken. They had pulled back in a ring around Dragonmount. The sun shone down, radiant, lighting the distant, snowcapped crag. The broken maw and uppermost peak of the blasted mountainside were bathed in light. It was the first time Egwene could remember seeing direct sunlight in weeks. Perhaps longer.

"Some novices noticed it first, Mother," Silviana said, stepping up beside her. "And news spread quickly. Who would have thought that a little ring of sunlight would cause such a stir? It's such a simple thing, really. Nothing we haven't seen before. But. . . ."

There was something beautiful about it. The light streaming down in a column, strong and pure. Distant, yet striking. It was like something forgotten, but somehow still familiar, shining forth from a distant memory to bring warmth again.

"What does it mean?" Silviana asked.

"I don't know," Egwene said. "But I welcome the sight of it." She hesitated. "That opening in the clouds is too even to be natural. Mark this day on the calendars, Silviana. Something has happened. Perhaps, eventually, we shall know the truth of it."

"Yes, Mother," Silviana said, looking out through the gap again.

Egwene stood with her, rather than returning to her study immediately. It felt relaxing to stare out at that distant light, so welcoming and noble. "Storms will soon come," it seemed to say. "But for now, I am here."

I am here.