The Gathering Storm - By Robert Jordan & Brandon Sanderson Page 0,143

tiny cracks during Siuan’s tenure as Amyrlin. If she’d been more of a mediator among the factions of the White Tower, could she have pounded strength into the bones of these women? Could she have kept them from turning on one another like razorfish in a blood frenzy?

The Dragon Reborn was important. But he was only one figure in the weaving of these final days. It was too easy to forget that, too easy to watch the dramatic figure of legend and forget everyone else.

She sighed, picking up her laundry and—out of habit—checking to make certain everything was there. As she did so, a figure in white approached her from one of the branching pathways. “Siuan Sedai?”

Siuan looked up, frowning. The novice before her was one of the strangest in the camp. Nearly seventy years old, Sharina had the weathered, creased face of a grandmother. She kept her silver hair up in a bun, and while she walked without a stoop, there was a certain distinct weight to her. She had seen so much, done so much, passed so many years. And unlike an Aes Sedai, Sharina had lived all of those years. Working, raising a family, even burying children.

She was strong in the power. Remarkably so; she would wear the shawl for certain, and as soon as she did, she’d be far above Siuan. For now, though, Sharina curtsied deeply. She gave an almost perfect show of deference. Of all of the novices, she was known to complain the least, make the least trouble, and study the most assiduously. As a novice, she understood things that most Aes Sedai had never learned—or had forgotten the moment they took the shawl. How to be humble when necessary, how to take a punishment, how to know when you needed to learn rather than pretend you already knew. If only we had a few score more of her, Siuan thought, and a few score less Elaidas and Romandas.

“Yes, child?” Siuan asked. “What is it?”

“I saw you picking up that wash, Siuan Sedai,” Sharina said. “And I thought that perhaps I should carry it for you.”

Siuan hesitated. “I wouldn’t want you to tire yourself.”

Sharina raised an eyebrow in a very un-novice-like expression. “These old arms carried loads twice that heavy back and forth from the river just last year, Siuan Sedai, juggling three grandchildren all the way. I think I’ll be all right.” There was something in her eyes, a hint that her offer was not all it seemed to be. This one was adept at more than just Healing weaves, it appeared.

Curious, Siuan let the aged woman take the basket. They began to walk down the pathway toward the novices’ tents.

“It’s curious,” Sharina said, “that such a large disturbance could be caused by such a seemingly simple revelation, wouldn’t you say, Siuan Sedai?”

“Elaida’s discovery of Traveling is an important revelation.”

“And yet nowhere near as important as the ones rumored to have come during the meeting a few months back, when that man who can channel visited. Odd that this should create such a scene.”

Siuan shook her head. “The thinking of crowds is often odd at first consideration, Sharina. Everyone is still talking about that Asha’man visit, and they’re thirsty for more. So they react with excitement at the chance to hear something else. In that way, the great revelations can come in secret, but then cause lesser ones to be received in an explosion of anxiety.”

“One could put that observation to good use, I should think.” Sharina nodded to a group of novices as they passed. “If one wanted to cause worry, that is.”

“What are you saying?” Siuan asked, eyes narrowing.

“Ashmanaille reported first to Lelaine Sedai,” Sharina said softly. “I’ve heard that Lelaine was the one who let the news slip. She spoke it out loud in the hearing of a family of novices while calling for the Hall to meet. She also deflected several early calls for the meeting to be Sealed to the Flame.”

“Ah,” Siuan said. “So that’s why!”

“I relate only hearsay, of course,” Sharina explained, pausing in the shade of a scraggly blackwood tree. “It is probably just foolishness. Why, an Aes Sedai of Lelaine’s stature would know that if she let information slip in the hearing of novices, it would soon pass to all willing ears.”

“And in the Tower, every ear is willing.”

“Exactly, Siuan Sedai,” Sharina said, smiling.

Lelaine had wanted to create a menagerie of a meeting—she’d wanted novices listening in, and every sister in the camp joining