The Gathering Storm - By Robert Jordan & Brandon Sanderson Page 0,335

upon her, had become something of a symbol of defiance. To change now meant an end to her strike. She was tired, emotionally and physically, from the night’s battle. But she couldn’t give in to that. This wouldn’t be her first near-sleepless night before a very important day of decisions and problems.

She found herself tapping her armrest and forced herself to stop.

There was no way she could return to the White Tower as a novice now. Her defiance had worked only because she had been a captive Amyrlin. If she went back willingly, she would be seen as subservient, or as arrogant. Besides, Elaida would certainly have her executed this time.

And so she was stuck, just as she had been when she’d first been taken by the White Tower’s agents. She gritted her teeth. She’d once thought, mistakenly, that the Amyrlin wouldn’t be so easily tossed about by random twists in the Pattern. She was supposed to be in control. Everyone else spent their days reacting, but the Amyrlin was a woman of action!

She was realizing more and more that being the Amyrlin wasn’t different. Life was a tempest, whether you were a milkmaid or a queen. The queens were simply better at projecting control in the middle of that storm. If Egwene looked like a statue unaffected by the winds, it was actually because she saw how to bend with those winds. That gave the illusion of control.

No. It was not just an illusion. The Amyrlin did have more control, if only because she controlled herself and kept the tempest outside her. She swayed before the needs of the moment, but her actions were well-considered. She had to be as logical as a White, as thoughtful as a Brown, as passionate as a Blue, as decisive as a Green, as merciful as a Yellow, as diplomatic as a Gray. And yes, as vengeful as a Red, when necessary.

There was no returning to the White Tower as a novice, and she couldn’t wait for negotiations. Not with the Seanchan bold enough to strike the White Tower, not with Rand completely unwatched, not with the world in chaos and the Shadow gathering its forces for the Last Battle. That left her with a difficult decision. She had a fresh army of fifty thousand troops, and the White Tower had suffered an incredible blow. The Aes Sedai would be exhausted, the Tower Guard broken and wounded.

In a few days’ time, the Healings would be finished and the women rested. She didn’t know if Elaida had survived the attack or not, but Egwene had to assume she was still in control. That gave Egwene a very narrow window for action.

She knew what the only right decision was. She didn’t have time to wait for the sisters in the White Tower to make the right decision, she would have to force them to accept her.

She hoped that history would eventually forgive her.

She rose, threw open the flaps of her tent, and stopped dead. A man was sitting on the ground directly in front of her.

Gawyn scrambled to his feet, every bit as handsome as she remembered. He wasn’t beautiful, like his half-brother. Gawyn was more solid, more real. Strikingly, that now made him more attractive to Egwene than Galad. Galad was like a being from beyond reality, a figure of legends and stories. He was like a glass statue to be placed on a table for admiration, but never touched.

Gawyn was different. Handsome, with that brilliant reddish gold hair and those tender eyes. While Galad never worried about anything, Gawyn’s concern made him genuine. As did his ability to make mistakes, unfortunately.

“Egwene,” he said, righting his sword and dusting off his trouser legs. Light! Had he slept there in front of her tent? The sun was already halfway to its zenith. The man should have gone to take some rest!

Egwene squelched her concern and worry for him. It was not time to be a lovesick girl. It was time to be Amyrlin. “Gawyn,” she said, raising a hand, stopping him as he stepped toward her. “I haven’t begun to think about what to do with you. Other matters demand my attention. Has the Hall gathered, as I requested?”

“I think so,” he said, turning to glance toward the center of camp. She could just barely make out the large gathering tent of the Hall through the scrub trees.

“Then I must appear before them,” Egwene said, taking a deep breath. She began to walk forward.

“No,” Gawyn