The Gathering Storm - By Robert Jordan & Brandon Sanderson Page 0,290

for what needs to be done?”

Min shook her head. “Dare we send him as he is, with that look in his eyes? Nynaeve, he’s stopped caring. Nothing matters to him anymore but defeating the Dark One.”

“Isn’t that what we want him to do?”

“I. . . .” She stopped. “Winning won’t be winning at all if Rand becomes something as bad as the Forsaken . . . We—”

“I understand,” Nynaeve said suddenly. “Light burn me, but I do, and you’re right. I just don’t like the answers those conclusions are giving me.”

“What conclusions?”

Nynaeve sighed. “That Cadsuane was right,” she said. Nearly under her breath, she added, “Insufferable woman.” She stood up. “Come on. We need to find her and discover what her plans are.”

Min stood, joining Nynaeve. “You’re certain she has plans? Rand was harsh with her. Maybe she’s just staying with us to watch him flounder and fail without her.”

“She has plans,” Nynaeve said. “If there’s one thing we can count on with that woman, it’s that she’s scheming. We just have to convince her to let us in on it.”

“And if she won’t?” Min asked.

“She will,” Nynaeve said, looking at the place where Rand’s gateway had split the rug. “Once we tell her about tonight, she will. I dislike the woman, and I suspect she returns the emotion, but neither of us can handle Rand alone.” She pursed her lips. “I worry we won’t be able to handle him together. Let’s go.”

Min followed. “Handle” Rand? That was another problem. Nynaeve and Cadsuane were both so concerned with handling that they failed to see that it might be best to help him instead. Nynaeve cared for Rand, but she saw him as a problem to be fixed, rather than a man in need.

And so Min accompanied the Aes Sedai out of the mansion. They walked into the dark courtyard—Nynaeve making a globe of light—and hurried around the back, past the stable and toward the gatekeeper’s cottage. They passed Alivia on the way; the former damane looked disappointed. Likely, she’d been turned away by Cadsuane and the others again—Alivia spent a great deal of time trying to get the Aes Sedai to train her in new weaves.

They finally reached the gatekeeper’s cottage—at least, the gatekeeper’s cottage was what it had been until Cadsuane prevailed upon him to move out. It was a single-story, thatch-roofed structure of painted yellow wood. Light shone out between the shutters on the windows.

Nynaeve stepped up to the front and knocked on the sturdy oak door; it was answered shortly by Merise. “Yes, child?” the Green asked, as if intentionally trying to goad Nynaeve.

“I have to speak with Cadsuane,” Nynaeve growled.

“Cadsuane Sedai, she has no business with you right now,” Merise said, moving to close the cottage door. “Return tomorrow, and perhaps she will see you.”

“Rand al’Thor just burned an entire palace full of people from existence with balefire,” Nynaeve said, loud enough to be heard by those inside the cottage. “I was with him.”

Merise froze.

“Let her in,” Cadsuane’s voice said from inside. Reluctantly, Merise pulled open the door. Inside, Min saw Cadsuane sitting on some cushions on the floor with Amys, Bair, Melaine and Sorilea. The front room—the main room—of the cottage was decorated with a simple brown rug on the floor, mostly obscured by the seated women. A gray stone fireplace burned with a calm flame at the back, the wood nearly consumed, the fire low. A stool sat in the corner, with a pot of tea on it.

Nynaeve barely gave the Wise Ones a glance. She pushed her way into the cottage, and Min followed more hesitantly.

“Tell us of this event, child,” Sorilea said. “We felt the world warping from here, but did not know what had caused it. We assumed it to be the Dark One’s work.”

“I’ll tell you,” Nynaeve said, then took a deep breath, “but I want to be a part of your plans.”

“We shall see,” Cadsuane said. “Relate your experience.”

Min took a seat on a wooden stool at the side of the room as Nynaeve gave her account of Natrin’s Barrow. The Wise Ones listened, tight-lipped. Cadsuane just nodded occasionally. Merise, face full of horror, refilled cups of tea from the pot on the stool—by the smell it was Tremalking black—then set it to hang by the fire. Nynaeve finished, still standing.

Oh, Rand, Min thought. This must be tearing you apart inside. But she could feel him through the bond; his emotions seemed very cold.

“You were wise to come to