The Gathering Storm - By Robert Jordan & Brandon Sanderson Page 0,359

demanded, opening her eyes, her voice booming across the expanse. “Have you deposed yet another Amyrlin?”

The other side was silent for a moment. “They’re conferring.” Bryne had raised his spyglass.

Andaya spoke a moment later. “Elaida do Avriny a Roihan, Watcher of the Seals, the Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat . . . was taken in the raid last night. Her whereabouts are unknown. She is presumed dead or otherwise unable to fulfill her duties.”

“By the Light!” Bryne lowered the glass.

“No more than she deserved,” Siuan muttered.

“No woman deserves that,” Egwene said to Siuan and Bryne. Absently she raised fingers to her neck. “Better she had died.”

Bryne said, “This could be a trap.”

“I don’t see how,” Siuan said. “Andaya is bound by the oaths. She wasn’t on your list of Black, was she, Egwene?”

Egwene shook her head.

“I’m still hesitant, Mother,” Bryne said.

Egwene restored her weave. “You will let my army enter? You will accept the other Aes Sedai back in fellowship and will reinstate the Blue Ajah?”

“We anticipated these demands,” Andaya said. “They will be met.”

There was silence, the only sound that of the waters lapping against their banks below.

“Then I accept,” Egwene said.

“Mother,” Siuan said cautiously. “This might be rash. Perhaps you should speak with—”

“It is not rash,” Egwene released her weave and felt a surge of hope. “It is what we’ve wanted.” She eyed Siuan. “Besides. Who are you to lecture me on being rash?” Siuan looked down. “General, prepare your men to cross, and bring the Sitters at the back forward. Send runners back to the Aes Sedai camp with the news, and make certain your men at the other bridges know to stand down.”

“Yes, Mother.” Bryne wheeled his horse about and gave the necessary orders.

Taking a deep breath, Egwene kicked her horse into motion onto the bridge. Siuan muttered a fisher’s curse and followed. Egwene could hear Gawyn’s horse following as well, then a squad of soldiers obeying a curt command from Bryne.

Egwene rode across the waters, hair blowing out behind her, laced with red ribbons. She felt an odd sense of moment—a weight of realization—as she considered what they had all just avoided. It was soon replaced with growing satisfaction and joy.

Her white mare bucked her head slightly, brushing a silky mane across Egwene’s hands. On the bridge, the Sitters turned to make their way into the city. The Tower rose just ahead. Wounded. Bleeding.

But it still stood. Light, it stood!

CHAPTER 46

To Be Forged Again

After crossing the bridge to Tar Valon as a victor, the day nearly became a blur for Egwene. She hastened to the White Tower, Siuan and Gawyn barely managing to keep up with her. At the Tower, Egwene was met by a group of servants; the Sitters themselves were waiting in the Hall for Egwene.

The servants led her to an unadorned, wood-paneled chamber set with a pair of leather-padded chairs. Egwene had never been here before; it appeared to be a kind of waiting room near the Hall. It smelled of leather, and a small brazier burned coals in the corner.

Soon, a short, toadlike Brown sister named Lairain entered and instructed Egwene on the proper way to go about the ceremony. The little curly-haired woman seemed completely indifferent to the importance of the moment, and Egwene had never met her before. Likely, she was one of the Browns who spent her life roaming the back library stacks, and only surfaced once a century or so to recite instructions to prospective Amyrlins. Egwene listened carefully; she’d gone through the ceremony once, but it was very complex.

She could still remember her nervousness on that day, months ago, when she’d been raised in Salidar. Back then, she’d still been confused as to what was happening. Her? Amyrlin?

That hesitation was gone. She did not really worry about getting the ceremony wrong. It was only a ceremony, and the important decision had already been made. As Egwene listened to Lairain, she heard Siuan arguing outside the doors with one of the sisters, claiming that Egwene had already been raised, and that this ceremony wasn’t needed. Egwene quieted Lairain with a raised hand and called out to Siuan.

Siuan peeked in the door.

“I was raised by the rebels, Siuan,” Egwene said sternly. “These women deserve the chance to stand for me as well. Otherwise, I will never have a claim to their loyalty. The ceremony must be performed again.”

Siuan scowled, but nodded. “Very well.”

Lairain opened her mouth to continue instructions, but Egwene silenced her with another motion,