Pevara strolled over, causing him to look up sharply when she drew close. She smothered a smile. She might not look it, but she could move silently, when necessary.
She stared out of the windows. The rain had grown worse, splashing curtains of water against the glass. “After so many weeks of looking as if it would storm at any moment, it finally comes.”
“Those clouds had to break open eventually,” Androl said.
“The rain doesn’t feel natural,” she said, hands clasped behind her. She could feel the coldness through the glass. “It doesn’t ebb and flow. Just the same steady torrent. A great deal of lightning, but very little thunder.”
“You think it’s one of those?” Androl asked. He didn’t need to say what “those” meant. Earlier in the week, common people in the Tower—none of the Asha’man—had begun bursting into flame. Just… flame, inexplicably. They’d lost some forty people. Many still blamed a rogue Asha’man, though the men had sworn nobody had been channeling nearby.
She shook her head, watching a group of people trudge past on the muddy street outside. She had been one of those, at first, who had called the deaths the work of an Asha’man gone mad. Now she accepted these events, and other oddities, as something far worse.
The world was unraveling.
She needed to be strong. Pevara herself had devised the plan of bringing women here to bond these men, though Tarna had suggested it. She couldn’t let them discover how disturbing she found it to be trapped in here, facing down enemies who could force a person to the Shadow. Her only allies men who, only months ago, she would have pursued with diligence and gentled without remorse.
She sat down on the stool Emarin had used earlier. “I would like to discuss this ‘plan’ you are developing.”
“I’m not sure I’ve actually developed one yet, Aes Sedai.”
“I might be able to offer some suggestions.”
“I wouldn’t say no to hearing them,” Androl said, though he narrowed his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Those people outside. I don’t recognize them. And…”
She looked back out the window. The only light came from buildings, shining an occasional red-orange glow into the drenched night. The passersby still moved very slowly down the street, in and out of the light of windows.
“Their clothing isn’t wet,” Androl whispered.
With a chill, Pevara realized he was right. The man at the front walked with a wide-brimmed, drooping hat on his head, but it didn’t break the rain or stream water. His rustic clothing was untouched by the downpour. And the dress of the woman beside him wasn’t blowing at all in the wind.
Now Pevara saw that one of the younger men was holding his hand behind him, as if pulling the reins of a pack animal—but there was no animal there.
Pevara and Androl watched in silence until the figures passed too far into the night to be seen. Visions of the dead were growing increasingly common.
“You said you had a suggestion?” Androl’s voice trembled.
“I… Yes.” Pevara tore her eyes away from the window. “So far, Taim’s focus has been on the Aes Sedai. My sisters have all been taken. I am the last.”
“You’re offering yourself as bait.”
“They will come for me,” she said. “It is only a matter of time.”
Androl fingered the leather strap and looked pleased with it. “We should sneak you out.”
“Is that so?” she said, eyebrow raised. “I have been elevated to the position of maiden in need of rescue, have I? Very valiant of you.”
He blushed. “Sarcasm? From an Aes Sedai? I wouldn’t have thought I’d hear that.”
Pevara laughed. “Oh my, Androl. You really don’t know anything about us, do you?”
“Honestly? No. I’ve avoided your kind for most of my life.”
“Well, considering your… innate tendencies, perhaps that was wise.”
“I couldn’t channel before.”