Towers of Midnight

51 A Testing

The hair on Min’s neck rose as she held the crystal sword. Callandor. She’d heard stories of this weapon since she was a child, wild tales of distant Tear and the strange Sword That Is Not a Sword. Now she held it in her own fingers.

It was lighter than she’d expected. Its crystalline length caught and played with the lamplight. It seemed to shimmer too much, the light inside changing even when she didn’t move. The crystal was smooth, but warm. It almost felt alive.

Rand stood in front of her, looking down at the weapon. They were in their rooms inside the Stone of Tear, accompanied by Cadsuane, Narishma, Merise, Naeff and two Maidens.

Rand reached out, touching the weapon. She glanced at him, and a viewing sprang to life above him. A glowing sword, Callandor; being gripped in a black hand. She gasped.

“What did you see?” Rand asked softly.

“Callandor, held in a fist. The hand looks to be made of onyx.”

“Any idea what it means?”

She shook her head.

“We should hide it away again,” Cadsuane said. She wore brown and green today, earthy colors lightened by her golden hair ornaments. She stood with arms folded, back straight. “Phaw! Getting the object out now is foolhardy, boy.”

“Your objection is noted,” Rand said. He took the sa’angreal from Min, then slid it over his shoulder into a sheath on his back. At his side, he once again wore the ancient sword with the red-and-gold dragons painted on the sheath. He’d said before that he considered that to be a kind of symbol. It represented the past to him, and Callandor—somehow—represented the future.

“Rand,” Min said, taking his arm. “My research… remember, Callandor seems to have a deeper flaw than we’ve discovered. This viewing only reinforces what I said before. I worry it may be used against you.”

“I suspect that it will,” Rand said. “Everything else in this world has been used against me. Narishma, a gateway, please. We’ve kept the Borderlanders waiting long enough.”

The Asha’man nodded, bells in his hair tinkling.

Rand turned to Naeff. “Naeff, there has still been no word from the Black Tower?”

“No, my Lord,” the tall Asha’man said.

“I have been unable to Travel there,” Rand said. “That implies great trouble, worse than I had feared. Use this weave. It can disguise you. Travel to a place a day’s ride outside, and ride in, hiding yourself. See what you can discover. Help if you can, and when you find Logain and those loyal to him, deliver him a message for me.”

“What message, my Lord?”

Rand looked distant. “Tell them that I was wrong. Tell them that we’re not weapons. We’re men. Perhaps it will help. Take care. This could be dangerous. Bring me word. I will need to fix things there, but I could easily stumble into a trap more dangerous than any I’ve avoided so far. Problems… so many problems that need fixing. And only one of me. Go in my place, Naeff, for now. I need information.”

“I… Yes, my Lord.” He seemed confused, but he ducked out of the room to obey.

Rand took a deep breath, then rubbed the stump of his left arm. “Let’s go.”

“Are you certain you don’t want to bring more people?” Min asked.

“Yes,” Rand said. “Cadsuane, be ready to open a gateway and get us out if needed.”

“We’re going into Far Madding, boy,” Cadsuane said. “Surely you haven’t forgotten that we are prevented from touching the Source while there.”

Rand smiled. “And you’re wearing a full paralis-net in your hair, which includes a Well. I’m certain you keep it full, and that should be enough to create a single gateway.”

Cadsuane’s face grew expressionless. “I’ve never heard of a paralis-net.”

“Cadsuane Sedai,” Rand said softly. “Your net has a few ornaments I don’t recognize—I suspect it is a Breaking-era creation. But I was there when the first ones were designed, and I wore the original male version.”

The room fell still.

“Well, boy,” Cadsuane finally said. “You—”

“Are you ever going to give up that affectation, Cadsuane Sedai?” Rand asked. “Calling me boy? I no longer mind, though it does feel odd. I was four hundred years old on the day I died during the Age of Legends. I suspect that would make you my junior by several decades at the least. I show you respect. Perhaps it would be appropriate for you to return it. If you wish, you may call me Rand Sedai. I am, so far as I know, the only male Aes Sedai still alive who was properly raised but who never turned to the Shadow.”

Cadsuane paled visibly.

Rand’s smile turned kindly. “You wished to come in and dance with the Dragon Reborn, Cadsuane. I am what I need to be. Be comforted—you face the Forsaken, but have one as ancient as they at your side.” He turned away from her, eyes growing distant. “Now, if only great age really were an indication of great wisdom. As easy to wish that the Dark One would simply let us be.”

He took Min by the arm, and together they walked through Narishma’s gateway. Beyond, a small cluster of Maidens waited inside a wooded clearing, guarding a group of horses. Min climbed into her saddle, noting how reserved Cadsuane looked. As well she should. When Rand spoke like that, it troubled Min more than she wanted to admit.

They rode out of the small thicket, down toward Far Madding, an impressive city set on an island in the middle of a lake. A large army—flying hundreds of banners—spread out around the lake.

“It’s always been a city of importance, you know,” Rand said from beside Min, his eyes distant. “The Guardians are newer, but the city was here long ago. Aren Deshar, Aren Mador, Far Madding. Always a thorn in our side, Aren Deshar was. The enclave of the Incastar—those afraid of progress, afraid of wonder. Turns out they had a right to be afraid. How I wish I had listened to Gilgame…”

“Rand?” Min said softly.

It drew him out of his reverie. “Yes?”

“Is it really as you said. Are you four centuries old?”

“I’m nearly four and a half, I suppose. Do my years in this Age add to those I had before?” He looked at her. “You’re worried, aren’t you? That I’m no longer me, the man you knew, the foolish sheepherder?”

“You’ve got all of this in your mind, so much past!”

“Memories, only,” Rand said.

“But you’re him, too. You talk like you were the one who tried to seal the Bore. Like you knew the Forsaken personally.”

Rand rode in silence for a time. “I suppose I am him. But Min, what you’re missing is this: I may be him now, but he was always me as well. I was always him. I’m not going to change just because I remember—I was the same. I’m me. And I always have been me.”

“Lews Therin was mad.”

“At the end,” Rand said. “And yes, he made mistakes. I made mistakes. I grew arrogant, desperate. But there’s a difference this time. A great one.”

“What difference?”

He smiled. “This time, I was raised better.”

Min found herself smiling as well.

“You know me, Min. Well, I promise you, I feel more like myself now than I have in months. I feel more like myself than I ever did as Lews Therin, if that makes any kind of sense. It’s because of Tam, because of the people around me. You, Perrin, Nynaeve, Mat, Aviendha, Elayne, Moiraine. He tried very hard to break me. I think if I’d been the same as I was so long ago, he would have succeeded.”

They rode across the meadow surrounding Far Madding. As everywhere else, the green here had departed, leaving yellow and brown. It was getting worse and worse.

Pretend that it slumbers, Min told herself. The land isn’t dead. It’s waiting through the winter. A winter of storms and war.

Narishma hissed softly, riding behind. Min glanced at him. The Asha’man’s face had gone hard. Apparently, they’d passed inside the bubble of the Guardian’s influence. Rand gave no indication he’d noticed. He didn’t seem to be having the trouble with sickness when he channeled any longer, which relieved her. Or was he just covering it?

She turned her mind to the task at hand. The Borderlander armies had never explained why they’d defied custom and logic by marching south to find Rand. They were needed desperately. Rand’s intervention at Maradon had saved what was left of the city, but if that sort of thing was happening all across the border with the Blight…

Twenty soldiers—lances upheld with narrow, blood-red banners flapping from them like streamers—intercepted Rand’s group long before it reached the army. Rand stopped and let them approach.

“Rand al’Thor,” one of the men announced. “We are representatives of the Unity of the Border. We will provide escort.”

Rand nodded, and the procession started forward again, this time with guards.

“They didn’t call you Lord Dragon,” Min whispered to Rand. He nodded thoughtfully. Perhaps the Borderlanders did not believe he was th Dragon Reborn.

“Do not be arrogant here, Rand al’Thor,” Cadsuane said, trotting up to ride beside him. “But do not back down. Most Borderlanders will respond to strength when they see it.”

So. Cadsuane called Rand by name, instead of naming him “boy.” It seemed a victory, and it made Min smile.

“I will have that gateway ready,” Cadsuane continued more softly. “But it will be very small. The Well will only give me enough to make one we’d have to crawl through. We shouldn’t need it. These people will fight for you. They will want to fight for you. Only bumbling foolishness could keep them from it.”

“There is more to it than that, Cadsuane Sedai,” Rand replied, his voice hushed. “Something drove them southward. This is a challenge, one I am uncertain how to meet. But your advice is appreciated.”

Cadsuane nodded. Eventually, Min picked out a line of people waiting at the forefront of the army. There were thousands of soldiers behind, standing in rows. Saldaeans, with their bowed legs. Shienarans in topknots. Arafellin, each soldier with two swords strapped to his back. Kandori, with forked beards.

The group at the head stood on the ground, without mounts. They wore fine clothing. Two women and two men, all with what were obviously Aes Sedai at their sides, some with an attendant or two behind.

“The one at the front is Queen Ethenielle,” Cadsuane whispered. “She is a stern woman, but fair. She is known for meddling in the affairs of the southern nations, and I suspect the others will let her take the lead today. The handsome man beside her is Paitar Nachiman, King of Arafel.”

“Handsome?” Min asked, inspecting the balding older Arafellin. “Him?”

“It depends on one’s perspective, child,” Cadsuane said without missing a beat. “He was once known widely for his face, and he is still known for his sword. Beside him is King Easar Togita of Shienar.”

“So sad,” Rand said softly. “Who did he lose?”

Min frowned. Easar didn’t look particularly sad to her. Solemn, perhaps.

“He’s a Borderlander,” Cadsuane said. “He’s fought the Trollocs all his life; I’d suspect he’s lost many a person dear to him. His wife did die some years back. He’s said to have the soul of a poet, but he is an austere man. If you could earn his respect, it would mean much.”

“The last one is Tenobia, then,” Rand said, rubbing his chin. “Still wish I had Bashere with us.” Bashere had said that his face might fuel Tenobia’s anger, and Rand had listened to reason on that count.

“Tenobia,” Cadsuane said, “is a wildfire. Young, impertinent and reckless. Don’t let her draw you into an argument.”

Rand nodded. “Min?”

“Tenobia has a spear hovering over her head,” Min said. “Bloody, but shining in the light. Ethenielle will soon be wed—I see that by white doves. She plans to do something dangerous today, so be careful. The other two have various swords, shields and arrows hovering about them. Both will fight soon.”

“In the Last Battle?” Rand asked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It could be here, today.”

Their escort led them up to the four monarchs. Rand slid out of the saddle, patting Tai’daishar on the neck as the horse snorted. Min moved to dismount, as did Narishma, but Rand held up a hand to stop them.

“Blasted fool,” Cadsuane muttered from beside Min, low enough that nobody else could hear. “He asks me to be ready to get him out, then leaves us?”

“He likely meant that you should get me away,” Min said softly. “Knowing him, he’s more worried about me than himself.” She paused. “Blasted fool.”

Cadsuane shot her a glance, then smiled slightly before turning back to watch Rand.

He stepped up to the four monarchs and stopped, raising his arms to the sides, as if to ask, “What is it you wish of me?”

Ethenielle took the lead, as Cadsuane had guessed. She was a plump woman, her dark hair pulled away from her face and tied at the back. She strode up to Rand, a man walking beside her and carrying a sheathed sword in his arm, hilt pointed toward her.

Nearby, the Maidens rustled. They stepped up beside Rand. As usual, they assumed that commands to stay back didn’t include them.

Ethenielle raised a hand and slapped Rand across the face.

Narishma cursed. The Maidens raised their veils and drew spears. Min nudged her horse forward, breaking through the line of guards.

“Stop!” Rand said, raising his hand. He turned, looking at the Maidens.

Min stilled her mare, patting her on the neck. She was skittish, as might be expected. The Maidens reluctantly backed down, though Cadsuane did take the opportunity to move her horse up beside Min’s.

Rand turned back to Ethenielle and rubbed his face. “I hope that’s some traditional Kandori greeting, Your Majesty.”

She raised an eyebrow, then gestured to the side, and King Easar of Shienar stepped up to Rand. The man backhanded Rand across the mouth the force of it causing Rand to stumble.

Rand righted himself, again waving the Maidens down. He met Easar’s eyes. A trickle of blood ran down Rand’s chin. The Shienaran studied him for a moment, then nodded and stepped back.

Tenobia came next. She slapped Rand with her left hand, a strong blow that cracked in the air. Min felt a flash of pain from Rand. Tenobia shook her hand afterward.

King Paitar came last. The aging Arafellin with only a fringe of hair walked with his hands behind his back, contemplative. He stepped up to Rand and reached over and dabbed at the blood on Rand’s cheek. Then he backhanded Rand with a blow that sent him to his knees, a spray of blood flying from his mouth.

Min couldn’t sit by any longer. “Rand!” she said, jumping down from her saddle and running to him. She reached his side, steadying him while glaring at the monarchs. “How dare you! He came to you peacefully.”

“Peacefully?” Paitar said. “No, young woman, he did not come to this world in peace. He has consumed the land with terror, chaos and destruction.”

“As the prophecies said that he would,” Cadsuane said, walking up as Min helped Rand back to his feet. “You lay before him the burdens of an entire Age. You cannot hire a man to rebuild your house, then reproach him when he must knock down a wall to do the job.”

“That presumes that he is the Dragon Reborn,” Tenobia said, folding her arms. “We—”

She cut off as Rand stood, then carefully slid Callandor from its sheath, glittering blade rasping. He held it forth. “Do you deny this, Queen Tenobia, Shield of the North and Sword of the Blightborder, High Seat of House Kazadi? Will you look upon this weapon and call me a false Dragon?”

That quieted her. To the side, Easar nodded. Behind them, ranks of silent troops watched with lances, pikes and shields held high. As if in salute. Or as if in preparation to attack. Min looked up, and could faintly make out people lining the walls of Far Madding to watch.

“Let us proceed,” Easar said. “Ethenielle?”

“Very well,” the woman said. “I will say this, Rand al’Thor. Even if you do prove to be the Dragon Reborn, you have much to answer for.”

“You may take your price from my skin, Ethenielle,” Rand said softly, sliding Callandor back into its sheath. “But only once the Dark One has had his day with me.”

“Rand al’Thor,” Paitar said. “I have a question for you. How you answer will determine the outcome of this day.”

“What kind of question?” Cadsuane demanded.

“Cadsuane, please,” Rand said, holding up his hand. “Lord Paitar, I see it in your eyes. You know that I am the Dragon Reborn. Is this question necessary?”

“It is vital, Lord al’Thor,” Paitar replied. “It drove us here, though my allies did not know it from the start. I have always believed you to be the Dragon Reborn. That made my quest here even more vital.”

Min frowned. The aging soldier reached down to his sword hilt, as if ready to draw. The Maidens grew more alert. With a start, Min realized Paitar was still standing close to Rand. Too close.

He could have that sword out and swinging for Rand’s neck in an eyeblink, she realized. Paitar placed himself there to be ready to strike.

Rand didn’t break his gaze from the monarch. “Ask your question.”

“How did Tellindal Tirraso die?”

“Who?” Min asked, looking at Cadsuane. The Aes Sedai shook her head, confused.

“How do you know that name?” Rand demanded.

“Answer the question,” Easar said, hand on his hilt, body tense. Around them, ranks of men prepared themselves.

“She was a clerk,” Rand said. “During the Age of Legends. Demandred, when he came for me after founding the Eighty and One… She fell in the fighting, lightning from the sky… Her blood on my hands… How do you know that name!”

Ethenielle looked to Easar, then to Tenobia, then finally to Paitar. He nodded, then closed his eyes, letting out a sigh that sounded relieved. He took his hand from his sword.

“Rand al’Thor,” Ethenielle said, “Dragon Reborn. Would you kindly sit down and speak with us? We will answer your questions.”

“Why have I never heard of this so-called prophecy?” Cadsuane asked.

“Its nature required secrecy,” King Paitar said. They all sat on cushions in a large tent in the middle of the Borderlander army. It made Cadsuane’s shoulders itch, being surrounded like this, but the fool boy—he would always be a fool boy, no matter how old he was—looked perfectly at peace. Thirteen Aes Sedai waited outside the tent, which wasn’t large enough for them all. Thirteen. That hadn’t made al’Thor blink. What man who could channel would sit amid thirteen Aes Sedai and not sweat?

He’s changed, Cadsuane told herself. You’re just going to have to accept that. Not that he didn’t need her anymore. Men like him grew overly confident. A few little successes, and he’d trip over his own feet and land in some predicament.

But… well, she was proud of him. Grudgingly proud. A little.

“It was given by an Aes Sedai of my own family line,” Paitar continued. The square-faced man sipped a small cup of tea. “My ancestor, Reo Myershi, was the only one who heard it. He ordered the words preserved, passed from monarch to monarch, for this day.”

“Speak them to me,” Rand said. “Please.”

“I see him before you!” Paitar quoted. “Him, the one who lives many lives, the one who gives deaths, the one who raises mountains. He will break what he must break, but first he stands here, before our king. You will bloody him! Measure his restraint. He speaks! How was the fallen slain? Tellindal Tirraso, murdered by his hand, the darkness that came the day after the light. You must ask, and you must know your fate. If he cannot answer…”

He trailed off, falling silent.

“What?” Min asked.

“If he cannot answer,” Paitar said, “then you will be lost. You will bring his end swiftly, so that the final days may have their storm. So that Light may not be consumed by he who was to have preserved it. I see him. And I weep.”

“You came to murder him, then,” Cadsuane said.

“To test him,” Tenobia said. “Or so we decided, once Paitar told us of the prophecy.”

“You don’t know how close you came to doom,” Rand said softly. “If I had come to you but a short time earlier, I’d have returned those slaps with balefire.”

“Inside the Guardian?” Tenobia sniffed disdainfully.

“The Guardian blocks the One Power,” Rand whispered. “The One Power only.”

What does he mean by that? Cadsuane thought, frowning.

“We knew well the risk,” Ethenielle said proudly. “I demanded the right to slap you first. Our armies had orders to attack if we fell.”

“My family has analyzed the words of the prophecy a hundred times over,” Paitar said. “The meaning seemed clear. It was our task to test the Dragon Reborn. To see if he could be trusted to go to the Last Battle.”

“Only a month earlier,” Rand said. “I wouldn’t have had the memories to answer you. This was a foolish gambit. If you had killed me, then all would have been lost.”

“A gamble,” Paitar said evenly. “Perhaps another would have risen in your stead.”

“No,” Rand said. “This prophecy was like the others. A declaration of what might happen, not advice.”

“I see it differently, Rand al’Thor,” Paitar said. “And the others agreed with me.”

“It should be noted,” Ethenielle said, “that I didn’t come south because of this prophecy. My goal was to see if I could bring some sense to the world. And then…” She grimaced.

“What?” Cadsuane asked, finally sipping her tea. It tasted good, as it usually did near al’Thor these days.

“The storms,” Tenobia said. “The snow stopped us. And then, finding you proved more difficult than we’d assumed. These gateways. Can you teach them to our Aes Sedai?”

“I will have your Aes Sedai taught in return for a promise,” Rand said. “You will swear to me. I have need of you.”

“We are sovereigns,” Tenobia snapped. “I’m not going to bow to you as quickly as my uncle did. We have to speak about that, by the way.”

“Our oaths are to the lands we protect,” Easar said.

“As you wish,” Rand said, rising. “I once gave you an ultimatum. I phrased it poorly, and I regret that, but I remain your only path to the Last Battle. Without me, you will remain here, hundreds of leagues from those lands you swore to protect.” He nodded to each of them, then helped Min to her feet. “Tomorrow, I meet with the monarchs of the world. After that, I am going to go to Shayol Ghul and break the remaining seals on the Dark One’s prison. Good day.”

Cadsuane didn’t rise. She sat, sipping her tea. The four seemed astounded. Well, the boy certainly had picked up an understanding of the dramatic.

“Wait!” Paitar finally sputtered, rising. “You’re going to do what?”

Rand turned. “I’m going to shatter the seals, Lord Paitar. I’m going to ‘break what he must break’ as your own prophecy says I must. You cannot stop me, not when those words prove what I will do. Earlier, I stepped in to prevent Maradon from falling. It was near to it, Tenobia. The walls are shattered, your troops bloodied. With help, I was able to save it. Barely. Your countries need you. And so, you have two choices. Swear to me, or sit here and let everyone else fight in your place.”

Cadsuane sipped her tea. That was going a little too far.

“I’ll leave you to discuss my offer,” Rand said. “I can spare one hour—though, before you start your deliberation, could you send for someone on my behalf? There is a man in your army named Hurin. I would like to apologize to him.”

They still looked stunned. Cadsuane rose to go speak with the sisters waiting outside; she knew a few of them, and needed to feel out the others. She didn’t worry about what the Borderlanders would decide. Al’Thor had them. Another army beneath his banner. I didn’t think he’d manage this one.

One more day and it all began. Light, but she hoped that they were ready.