The Gathering Storm - By Robert Jordan & Brandon Sanderson Page 0,336

said, stepping in front of her. “Egwene, we need to talk.”

“Later.”

“No, not later, burn it! I’ve waited months. I need to know how we stand. I need to know if you—”

“Stop!” she said.

He froze. She would not be taken in by those eyes, burn him! Not right now. “I said that I hadn’t sorted through my feelings yet,” she said coolly, “and I meant it.”

He set his jaw. “I don’t believe that Aes Sedai calmness, Egwene,” he said. “Not when your eyes are so much more truthful. I’ve sacrificed—”

“You’ve sacrificed?” Egwene interrupted, letting a little anger show. “What about what I sacrificed to rebuild the White Tower? Sacrifices that you undermined by acting against my express wishes? Did Siuan not tell you that I had forbidden a rescue?”

“She did,” he said stiffly. “But we were worried about you!”

“Well, that worry was the sacrifice I demanded, Gawyn,” she said, exasperated. “Don’t you see what a distrust you have shown me? How can I trust you if you will disobey me in order to feel more comfortable?”

Gawyn didn’t look ashamed; he just looked perturbed. That was actually a good sign—as Amyrlin, she needed a man who would speak his mind. In private. But in public she’d need someone who supported her. Couldn’t he see that?

“You love me, Egwene,” he said stubbornly. “I can see it.”

“Egwene the woman loves you,” she said. “But Egwene the Amyrlin is furious with you. Gawyn, if you’d be with me, you have to be with both the woman and the Amyrlin. I would expect you—a man who was trained to be First Prince of the Sword—to understand that distinction.”

Gawyn looked away.

“You don’t believe it, do you?” she asked.

“What?”

“That I’m Amyrlin,” she said. “You don’t accept my title.”

“I’m trying to,” he said as he looked back at her. “But bloody ashes, Egwene. When we parted you were just an Accepted, and that wasn’t so long ago. Now they’ve named you Amyrlin? I don’t know what to think.”

“And you can’t see how your uncertainty undermines anything we could have together?”

“I can change. But you have to help me.”

“Which is why I wanted to talk later,” she said. “Are you going to let me pass?”

He stepped aside with obvious reluctance. “We’re not finished with this talk,” he warned. “I’ve finally made up my mind about something, and I don’t intend to stop chasing it until I have it.”

“Fine,” Egwene said, passing him. “I can’t think about that now. I have to go order people I care about to slaughter another group of people I care about.”

“You’ll do it, then?” Gawyn said from behind. “There’s speculation in camp; I heard it though I barely left this place all morning. Some think you’ll command Bryne to assault the city.”

She hesitated.

“It would be a shame if it happened,” he said. “I don’t care a whit about Tar Valon, but I think I know what it would do to you to attack it.”

She turned back to him. “I will do what must be done, Gawyn,” she said, meeting his eyes. “For the good of the Aes Sedai and the White Tower. Even if it is painful. Even if it tears me apart inside. I will do it if it needs to be done. Always.”

He nodded slowly. She headed for the pavilion at the center of camp.

“This was your fault, Jesse,” Adelorna said. Her eyes were still red; she’d lost a Warder the night before. She was one of many. But she was also tough as a feral hound, and was obviously determined not to let her pain show.

Jesse Bilal warmed her hands on her cup of gooseberry tea, refusing to let herself be goaded. Adelorna’s question had been inevitable. And perhaps Jesse deserved the reprimand. Of course, they all deserved it, in one way or another. Except perhaps for Tsutama, who hadn’t been an Ajah head at the time. That was part of why the woman hadn’t been invited to this particular meeting. That, and the fact that the Red Ajah wasn’t in good favor with the others at the moment.

The small, cramped room was barely large enough for five chairs and the small potbellied stove at the wall, radiating a calm warmth. There wasn’t room for a table, let alone a hearth. Just enough space for five women. The most powerful women in the world. And the five most foolish, it seemed.

They were a sorry sisterhood this morning, the morning following the greatest disaster in the history of the White Tower. Jesse glanced