“No.” She grabbed him by the arm and, heaving, hauled him down the slope. Together, they tumbled through the doorway, and…
…and gasping, Nynaeve fell from the ter’angreal. She collapsed alone on the cold floor, nak*d, shaking. In a flood, she remembered it all. Each and every horrible moment of the test. Each betrayal, each frustrating weave. The impotence, the screams of the children, the deaths of people she knew and loved. She wept against the floor, curling up.
Her entire body was afire with pain. Her shoulder, legs, arms and back still bled. She was burned to blisters in swaths across her body, and the greater part of her braid was gone. Her unraveled hair fell across her face as she tried to banish the memories of what she had done.
She heard groans from nearby, and through bleary eyes she saw the Aes Sedai in the circle break off their weaves and slump. She hated them. She hated each and every one of them.
“Light!” Saerin’s voice. “Someone Heal her!”
Everything was growing blurry. Voices grew muddled. Like sounds under water. Peaceful sounds…
Something cold washed over her. She gasped, her eyes opening wide at the icy shock of the Healing. Rosil knelt beside her. The woman looked worried.
The pain left Nynaeve’s body, but her exhaustion increased tenfold. And the pain inside…it remained. Oh, Light. She could hear the children screaming.
“Well,” Saerin said from nearby, “seems that she’ll live. Now, would someone please tell me what in the name of creation itself that was?” She sounded furious. “I’ve been a part of many a raising, even one where the woman didn’t survive. But I have never, in all of my days, seen a woman put through what this one just suffered.”
“She had to be tested properly,” Rubinde said.
“Properly?” Saerin demanded, livid.
Nynaeve didn’t have the strength to look at them. She lay, breathing in and out.
“Properly?” Saerin repeated. “That wasn’t proper. That was downright vengeful, Rubinde! Almost any one of those tests was beyond what I’ve seen demanded of other women. You should be ashamed. All of you. Light, look what you’ve done to the girl!”
“It is unimportant,” Barasine the Red said in a cold voice. “She failed the test.”
“What?” Nynaeve croaked, finally looking up. The ter’angreal had fallen dim, and Rosil had fetched a blanket and Nynaeve’s clothing. Egwene stood to the side, arms clasped before her. Her face was serene as she listened to the others. She would not have a vote, but the others would, regarding whether Nynaeve had passed the test or not.
“You failed, child,” Barasine said, regarding Nynaeve with an emotionless stare. “You did not show proper decorum.”
Lelaine of the Blue nodded, looking annoyed to be agreeing with a Red. “This was to test your ability to be calm as an Aes Sedai. You did not show that.”
The others looked uncomfortable. You weren’t supposed to speak of the specifics of a testing. Nynaeve knew that much. She also knew that most of the time, failing and dying were the same thing. Though she wasn’t terribly surprised to hear claims that she’d failed, now that she thought about it.
She had broken the rules of the test. She’d run in order to save Perrin and others. She’d channeled before she should have. She had trouble summoning regret. Every other emotion was, for the moment, consumed by the hollow loss she felt.
“Barasine does have a point,” Seaine said, reluctant. “By the end, you were openly furious, and you ran to reach many of the markers. And then there is the matter of the forbidden weave. Most troubling. I do not say you should fail, but there are irregularities.”
Nynaeve tried to climb to her feet. Rosil placed a hand on her shoulder to forbid her, but Nynaeve took the arm and used it as support, pulling herself up on unsteady legs. She took the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders, holding it closed at the front.
She felt so drained. “I did what I had to. Who among you would not run if you saw people in danger? Who among you would forbid herself to channel if she saw Shadowspawn attacking? I acted as an Aes Sedai should.”
“This test,” Barasine said, “is meant to ensure that a woman is capable of dedicating herself to a greater task. To see that she can ignore the distractions of the moment and seek a higher good.”
Nynaeve sniffed. “I completed the weaves I needed to. I maintained my focus. Yes, I broke my calm—but I kept a cool enough head to complete my tasks. One should not demand calmness for the mere sake of calmness, and a prohibition on running when there are people you need to save is foolish.
“My goal in this test was to prove that I deserve to be Aes Sedai. Well, then, I could argue that the lives of the people I saw were more important than gaining that title. If losing my title is what would be required to save someone’s life—and if there were no other consequences—I’d do it. Every time. Not saving them wouldn’t be serving a higher good; it would just be selfish.”
Barasine’s eyes opened wide with anger. Nynaeve turned to walk—with some difficulty—to the side of the room, where she could sit on a bench and rest. The women gathered together to speak softly, and Egwene walked—still serene—over to Nynaeve. The Amyrlin sat down beside her. Though she had been allowed to participate in the test, and create some of the experiences that tested Nynaeve, the choice of the raising would be up to the others.
“You’ve angered them,” Egwene said. “And confused them.”
“I spoke the truth,” Nynaeve grumbled.
“Perhaps,” Egwene said. “But I wasn’t speaking of your outburst. During the test, you flouted the orders you were given.”
“I couldn’t flout them. I didn’t remember that I’d been given them. I…well, actually I could remember what I was supposed to do, but not the reasons.” Nynaeve grimaced. “That’s why I broke the rules. I thought they were just arbitrary. I couldn’t remember why I wasn’t supposed to run, so in the face of seeing people die, it seemed silly to walk.”
“The rules are supposed to hold strongly, even though you don’t remember them,” Egwene said. “And you should not have been able to channel before reaching the marker. That is in the very nature of the test.”
Nynaeve frowned. “Then how—”
“You’ve spent too much time in Tel’aran’rhiod. This test…it seems to function much in the same way as the World of Dreams. What we create in our minds became your surroundings.” Egwene clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “I warned them that this might be a danger. Your practice in the World of Dreams made you innately able to break the test.”
Nynaeve didn’t reply to that, feeling sick. What if she did fail? Being cast out of the Tower now, after getting so close?
“I think your infractions might help you, however,” Egwene said softly.
“What?”
“You’re too experienced to have been given this test,” Egwene explained. “In a way, what happened is proof that you deserved the shawl when I granted it to you. You performed each of the weaves expertly, with speed and skill. I particularly liked the way you used ‘useless’ weaves, on occasion, to attack the things you saw.”
“The fight in the Two Rivers,” Nynaeve said. “That one was you, wasn’t it? The others don’t know the place well enough to create it.”
“You can sometimes create visions and situations based on the mind of the woman being tested,” Egwene said. “It is an odd experience, using this ter’angreal. One that I am not certain I understand.”
“But the Two Rivers was you.”
“Yes,” Egwene admitted.
“And the last one. With Lan?”
Egwene nodded. “I’m sorry. I thought that if I didn’t do it, nobody would—”
“I am glad that you did,” Nynaeve said. “It showed me something.”
“It did?”
Nynaeve nodded, back against the wall, holding the blanket in place and closing her eyes. “I realized that if I had to choose between becoming an Aes Sedai and going with Lan, I’d choose Lan. What people call me doesn’t change anything inside of me. Lan, however…he is more than a title. I can still channel—I can still be me—if I never become Aes Sedai. But I would never be myself again if I abandoned him. The world changed when I married him.”
She felt…freed, somehow, realizing it and saying it.
“Pray the others don’t realize that,” Egwene said. “It would not be good for them to determine that you would place anything before the White Tower.”
“I wonder if,” Nynaeve said, “we sometimes put the White Tower—as an institution—before the people we serve. I wonder if we let it become a goal in itself, instead of a means to help us achieve greater goals.”
“Devotion is important, Nynaeve. The White Tower protects and guides the world.”
“And yet, so many of us do it without families,” Nynaeve said. “Without love, without passion beyond our own particular interests. So even while we try to guide the world, we separate ourselves from it. We risk arrogance, Egwene. We always assume we know best, but risk making ourselves unable to fathom the people we claim to serve.”
Egwene seemed troubled. “Don’t voice those ideas too much, at least not today. They’re already frustrated enough with you. But this testing was brutal, Nynaeve. I’m sorry. I couldn’t be seen favoring you, but perhaps I should have put a stop to it. You did what you weren’t supposed to, and that drove the others to be increasingly severe. They saw that sick children hurt you, so they put more and more of them into the test. Many seemed to consider your victories a personal affront, a contest of wills. That drove them to be harsh. Cruel, even.”
“I survived,” Nynaeve said, eyes closed. “And I learned a great deal. About me. And about us.”
She wanted to be Aes Sedai, fully and truly embraced. She wanted it badly. But in the end, if these people chose to refuse her their approval, she knew she could continue on and do what she needed to do anyway.
Eventually, the Sitters—trailed by Rosil—walked up. Nynaeve hauled herself to her feet to be respectful.
“We must discuss the forbidden weave you used,” Saerin said, stern.
“It is the only way I know to destroy Darkhounds,” Nynaeve said. “It was needed.”
“You do not have the right to decide that,” Saerin said. “What you did destabilized the ter’angreal. You could have destroyed it, killing yourself and perhaps us. We want you to swear that you will never use that weave again.”
“I won’t do that,” Nynaeve said tiredly.
“And if it means the difference between gaining the shawl or losing it forever?”
“Giving an oath like that would be foolish,” Nynaeve said. “I could find myself in a situation where people would die if I didn’t use it. Light! I’ll be fighting in the Last Battle alongside Rand. What if I were to get to Shayol Ghul and discover that, without balefire, I could not help the Dragon stop the Dark One? Would you have me choose between a foolish oath and the fate of the world?”