Perrin streaked across the land, covering leagues with each step. He needed to take the spike someplace away from Slayer. Perhaps the ocean? He could—
An arrow hissed through the air, slicing his shoulder. Perrin cursed and spun. They were on a high rocky hillside. Slayer stood downhill from him, bow raised to his angular face, dark eyes alight with anger. He released another arrow.
A wall, Perrin thought, summoning a wall of bricks in front of him. The arrow punched several inches into the bricks, but stopped. Perrin immediately sent himself away. He couldn’t go far, though, not while carrying the dome.
Perrin changed so that he wasn’t going straight north any longer, but moving toward the east. He doubted that would throw off Slayer—he could probably see the dome moving and judge its direction.
What to do? He’d planned to toss the spike into the ocean, but if Slayer was following, he’d just recover it. Perrin concentrated on moving as quickly as he could, covering leagues with each heartbeat. Could he outrun his foe? The landscape passed him in a blur. Mountains, forests, lakes, meadows.
Just as he thought he might have gotten ahead, a figure appeared just beside him, swinging a sword at his neck. Perrin ducked, barely dodging the attack. He growled, raising his hammer, but Slayer vanished.
Perrin stopped in place, frustrated. Slayer could move faster than Perrin, and could get under the dome by jumping ahead of it, then waiting for Perrin to move it on top of him. From there, he could jump directly to Perrin and attack.
I can’t outrun him, Perrin realized. The only way to be certain, the only way to protect Faile and the others, was to kill Slayer. Otherwise the man would recover the spike from wherever Perrin put it, then return it to trap his people.
Perrin glanced around, getting his bearings. He was on a lightly forested slope, and could see Dragonmount to the north of him. He glanced eastward, and saw the tip of a large structure peeking out over the treetops. The White Tower. The city might give Perrin an advantage, make it easier to hide in one of the many buildings or alleys.
Perrin leaped off in that direction, carrying the spike with him, the dome it created traveling with him as he moved. It would come down to a fight after all.
Chapter 37
Darkness in the Tower
Gawyn sat on a bench in the Caemlyn Palace gardens. It had been several hours since he’d sent Egwene’s messenger away. A gibbous moon hung fat in the sky. Servants occasionally passed by to see if he needed anything. They seemed worried about him.
He just wanted to watch the sky. It had been weeks since he’d been able to do that. The air was cooling, but he left his coat off, hung over the back of the bench. The open air felt good—different, somehow, from the same air beneath a cloudy sky.
With the last light of dusk fading, the stars shone like hesitant children, peeking out now that the uproar of day had died down. It felt so good to finally see them again. Gawyn breathed in deeply.
Elayne was right. Much of Gawyn’s hatred of al’Thor came from frustration. Maybe jealousy. Al’Thor was playing a role closer to what Gawyn would have chosen for himself. Ruling nations, leading armies. Looking at their lives, who had taken on the role of a prince, and who the role of a lost sheepherder?
Perhaps Gawyn resisted Egwene’s demands because he wanted to lead, to be the one who accomplished the heroic acts. If he became her Warder, he would have to step aside and help her change the world. There was honor in keeping someone great alive. A deep honor. What was the point of great acts? The recognition they brought, or the better lives they created?
To step aside. He’d admired men like Sleete for their willingness to do this, but had never understood them. Not truly. I can’t leave her to do it alone, he thought. I have to help her. From within her shadow.
Because he loved her. But also because it was for the best. If two bards tried to play different songs at the same time, they both made noise. But if one stepped back to give harmony to the other’s melody, then the beauty could be greater than either made alone.
And in that moment, finally, he understood. He stood up. He couldn’t go to Egwene as a prince. He had to go to her as a Warder. He had to watch over her, to serve her. See her wishes done.
It was time to return.
Slinging his coat on, he strode down the path toward the Palace. The opening serenades of various pond frogs cut short—followed by splashes—as he passed them and entered the building. It wasn’t a long walk to his sister’s rooms. She would be up; she had trouble sleeping lately. During the past few days, they had often enjoyed conversation and a cup of warm tea before bed. At her doors, however, he was stopped by Birgitte.
She gave him another glare. Yes, she did not like being forced to act as Captain-General in his stead. He could see that now. He felt a little awkward stepping up to her. The woman held up a hand. “Not tonight, princeling.”
“I’m leaving for the White Tower,” he said. “I’d like to say farewell.”
He moved to step forward, but Birgitte held a hand against his chest, gently pushing him back. “You can leave in the morning.”
He almost reached for his sword, but stopped himself. Light! There had been a time when he hadn’t reacted that way to everything. He had become a fool. “Ask if she’ll see me,” he said politely. “Please.”
“I have my orders,” Birgitte said. “Besides, she couldn’t talk to you. She’s asleep.”
“I’m sure she’d like to be awakened.”
“It’s not that kind of sleep,” Birgitte said. She sighed. “It has to do with Aes Sedai matters. Go to bed. In the morning, your sister will probably have word from Egwene for you.”
Gawyn frowned. How would…
The dreams, he realized. This is what the Aes Sedai meant, about Egwene training them to walk in their dreams. “So Egwene’s sleeping as well?”
Birgitte eyed him. “Bloody ashes, I’ve probably said too much already. Off to your rooms.”
Gawyn stepped away, but not to go to his rooms. He’ll wait for a time of weakness, he thought, remembering the sul’dam’s words. And when he strikes, he’ll leave such desolation as you wouldn’t believe a single man could create…
A time of weakness.
He dashed away from Elayne’s rooms, sprinting through the palace hallways to the Traveling room that Elayne had set up. Blessedly, a Kinswoman was on duty here—bleary-eyed, but waiting in case emergency messages needed to be sent. Gawyn didn’t recognize the dark-haired woman, but she seemed to recognize him.
She yawned and opened a gateway at his request. He ran through and onto the Traveling ground of the White Tower. The gateway vanished right behind him. Gawyn started, spinning with a curse. That had nearly closed right on him! Why had the Kinswoman let it vanish so abruptly, and so dangerously? A split second sooner, and it would have taken his foot off, or worse.
There was no time. He turned and continued running.
Egwene, Leane and the Wise Ones appeared in a room at the base of the Tower, where a group of anxious women waited. This was a guard post that Egwene had stipulated as a fallback position.
“Report!” Egwene demanded.
“Shevan and Carlinya are dead, Mother,” Saerin said grimly. The brusque Brown was panting.
Egwene cursed. “What happened?”
“We were in the middle of our ploy, having a discussion about a fake plot to bring peace to Arad Doman, as you’d ordered. And then…”
“Fire,” Morvrin said, shivering. “Blasting through the walls. Women channeling, several with incredible Power. I saw Alviarin there. Others, too.”
“Nynaeve is still up there,” Brendas added.
“Stubborn woman,” Egwene said, looking at the three Wise Ones. They nodded. “Send Brendas out,” she said, pointing at the cool-eyed White. “When you wake, go and wake the others here so they will be out of danger. Leave Nynaeve, Siuan, Leane and myself.”
“Yes, Mother,” Brendas said.
Amys did something that made her form fade away.
“The rest of you,” Egwene said, “go someplace safe. Away from the city.”
“Very well, Mother,” Saerin said. She stayed in place, however.
“What?” Egwene said.
“I…” Saerin frowned. “I can’t go. Something is odd.”
“Nonsense,” Bair snapped. “It—”
“Bair,” Amys said. “I can’t leave. Something is very wrong.”
“The sky is violet,” Yukiri said, looking out a small window. “Light! It looks like a dome, covering the Tower and the city. When did that happen?”
“Something is very wrong here,” Bair said. “We should awaken.”
Amys suddenly vanished, causing Egwene to start. She was back in a moment. “I was able to go to the place where we were before, but I cannot leave the city. I do not like this, Egwene al’Vere.”
Egwene tried sending herself to Cairhien. It didn’t work. She looked out the window, feeling worried, but resolute. Yes, there was violet above.
“Wake if you must,” she said to the Wise Ones. “I will fight. One of the Shadowsouled is here.”
The Wise Ones fell silent. “We will go with you,” Melaine finally said.
“Good. You others, be away from this place. Go to the Musician’s Way and stay there until awakened. Melaine, Amys, Bair, Leane, we are going to a place higher in the Tower, a room with wood paneling and a four-poster bed, gauze drapings around it. It is my bedroom.”
The Wise Ones nodded, and Egwene sent herself there. A lamp sat on her nightstand; it didn’t burn here in Tel’aran’rhiod, though she’d left it burning in the real world. The Wise Ones and Leane appeared around her. The gauze draping Egwene’s bed ruffled in the breeze of their appearance.
The Tower shook. The fighting continued.
“Be careful,” Egwene said. “We hunt dangerous foes, and they know this terrain better than you.”
“We will be careful,” Bair replied. “I have heard that the Shadowsouled think themselves masters of this place. Well, we shall see.”
“Leane,” Egwene said, “can you handle yourself?” Egwene had been tempted to send her away, but she and Siuan had spent some measure of time in Tel’aran’rhiod. Certainly, she was more experienced than most.
“I’ll keep my head low, Mother,” she promised. “But there are bound to be more of them than us. You need me.”
“Agreed,” Egwene said.
The four women winked away. Why couldn’t they leave the Tower? It was troubling, but also useful. It would mean she was trapped here.
But hopefully so was Mesaana.
Five doves rose into the air, scattering from the ledge of the rooftop. Perrin spun. Slayer stood behind him, smelling like stone.
The hard-eyed man glanced up at the fleeing birds. “Yours?”
“For warning,” Perrin replied. “I figured you’d see through walnut shells on the ground.”
“Clever,” Slayer said.
Behind him spread a magnificent city. Perrin hadn’t believed that any city could be as magnificent as Caemlyn. But if there was such a thing, Tar Valon was it. The entire city was a work of art, almost every building decked with archways, spires, engravings and ornamentation. Even the cobblestones seemed to be arranged artistically.