The Gathering Storm - By Robert Jordan & Brandon Sanderson Page 0,341

Burn him! He could probably sense that she was actually bothered by his statement, rather than making argument for the sake of it. Burn him again!

“You’re a driven woman, Siuan Sanche,” he said. “Driven to save the world from itself. That’s how you can shrug off an oath or an order so easily.”

Siuan took a deep breath. “This conversation grew very tedious very quickly, Gareth Bryne. Are you going to tell me that other demand, or are you going to make me wait?”

He studied her stone face thoughtfully. “Well, frankly, I’m planning to demand that you marry me.”

She blinked in surprise. Light! The bond said that he was honest.

“But only after you feel the world can care for itself. I won’t agree to it before then, Siuan. You’ve given your life to something. I’ll see that you survive through it; I hope that once you’re done, you’ll be willing to give your life to something else instead.”

She reined in her shock. She wouldn’t let a fool man make her speechless. “Well,” she forced herself to say. “I see you have some sense after all. We shall see if I agree to this ‘demand’ of yours or not. I will think on it.”

Bryne chuckled as she turned around to regard the pavilion, waiting for Egwene’s reappearance. He could sense the truth from inside her, just as she could sense it from him. Light! Now she knew why Greens married their Warders so often. Feeling his affection for her while she felt the same for him made her giddy.

He was a fool of a man. And she no less a fool of a woman. She shook her head ruefully, but she did let herself lean back against him softly as they waited, and he replaced his hand on her shoulder. Soft, not forceful. Willing to wait. He did understand her.

Egwene stood before a group of smooth faces that were far too good at hiding their anxiety. By custom, she had ordered Kwamesa to weave the ward against eavesdropping, as the sharp-nosed Gray was the youngest among the Sitters in the large tent. It looked almost empty with so few places taken. A dozen women, two from each Ajah—there would have been three of each, but the Ajahs had all sent one Sitter with the envoy to the Black Tower. The Grays had already replaced Delana with Naorisa Cambral.

Twelve Sitters, along with Egwene and one other. Egwene did not look at Sheriam, who sat in her place to the side. Sheriam had seemed troubled as she entered. Did she realize what Egwene knew? She couldn’t. If she had, she’d never have come to the meeting.

Still, knowing she was there—and knowing what she was—made Egwene nervous. In the chaos of the Seanchan attack, Siuan hadn’t been able to watch Sheriam. Why did the Keeper wear a bandage on her left hand? Egwene didn’t believe her excuse of an accident while riding, her little finger getting caught in her reins. Why had she refused Healing? Blast Siuan! Instead of watching Sheriam, she’d come to kidnap Egwene!

The Hall grew still, the women waiting to see what Egwene’s response would be to her “freedom.” Romanda, gray-streaked hair up in a bun, sat primly in a yellow dress. She oozed satisfaction, while Lelaine—on the opposite side of the room—sulked while trying to act pleased at Egwene’s return. After what Egwene had been through in the White Tower, this squabbling felt ridiculously petty.

Egwene took a deep breath, then embraced the Source. It felt so good! No bitter forkroot to squeeze her power to a trickle, no need to reach through other women to lend her strength. No need for a sa’angreal. Sweet though the fluted wand’s power had been, being strong in and of herself was even more satisfying.

Several of the women frowned at the action, and not a few of them embraced the Source themselves, as if by reflex, looking about as if for danger.

“There will be no need for that,” Egwene said to the women. “Not yet. Please release the Source.”

They were hesitant, but—ostensibly—they accepted her as Amyrlin. One by one their power winked away. Egwene did not release it herself.

“I am very glad to see that you returned safely, Mother,” Lelaine said. She skirted the Three Oaths by adding the word “safely.”

“Thank you,” Egwene said calmly.

“You said that there were important revelations to make,” Varilin added. “Is this regarding the Seanchan attack?”

Egwene reached to the pouch on her skirt and pulled its contents free. A smooth