The great hunt - By Robert Jordan Page 0,1

the true Eye of the World passed over my house.

—Robert Jordan

Charleston, SC

February 1990

CONTENTS

MAP

PROLOGUE: In the Shadow

1 The Flame of Tar Valon

2 The Welcome

3 Friends and Enemies

4 Summoned

5 The Shadow in Shienar

6 Dark Prophecy

7 Blood Calls Blood

8 The Dragon Reborn

9 Leavetakings

10 The Hunt Begins

11 Glimmers of the Pattern

12 Woven in the Pattern

13 From Stone to Stone

14 Wolfbrother

15 Kinslayer

16 In the Mirror of Darkness

17 Choices

18 To the White Tower

19 Beneath the Dagger

20 Saidin

21 The Nine Rings

22 Watchers

23 The Testing

24 New Friends and Old Enemies

25 Cairhien

26 Discord

27 The Shadow in the Night.

28 A New Thread in the Pattern.

29 Seanchan

30 Daes Dae’mar

31 On the Scent

32 Dangerous Words

33 A Message from the Dark

34 The Wheel Weaves

35 Stedding Tsofu

36 Among the Elders

37 What Might Be

38 Practice

39 Flight from the White Tower

40 Damane

41 Disagreements

42 Falme

43 A Plan

44 Five Will Ride Forth

45 Blademaster

46 To Come Out of the Shadow

47 The Grave Is No Bar to My Call

48 First Claiming

49 What Was Meant to Be

50 After

GLOSSARY

And it shall come to pass that what men made shall be shattered, and the Shadow shall lie across the Pattern of the Age, and the Dark One shall once more lay his hand upon the world of man. Women shall weep and men quail as the nations of the earth are rent like rotting cloth. Neither shall anything stand nor abide . . .

Yet one shall be born to face the Shadow, born once more as he was born before and shall be born again, time without end. The Dragon shall be Reborn, and there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth at his rebirth. In sackcloth and ashes shall he clothe the people, and he shall break the world again by his coming, tearing apart all ties that bind. Like the unfettered dawn shall he blind us, and burn us, yet shall the Dragon Reborn confront the Shadow at the Last Battle, and his blood shall give us the Light. Let tears flow, O ye people of the world. Weep for your salvation.

—from The Karaethon Cycle:

The Prophecies of the Dragon,

as translated by Ellaine Marise’idin Alshinn,

Chief Librarian at the Court of Arafel,

in the Year of Grace 231

of the New Era, the Third Age

PROLOGUE

In the Shadow

The man who called himself Bors, at least in this place, sneered at the low murmuring that rolled around the vaulted chamber like the soft gabble of geese. His grimace was hidden by the black silk mask that covered his face, though, just like the masks that covered the hundred other faces in the chamber. A hundred black masks, and a hundred pairs of eyes trying to see what lay behind them.

If one did not look too closely, the huge room could have been in a palace, with its tall marble fireplaces and its golden lamps hanging from the domed ceiling, its colorful tapestries and intricately patterned mosaic floor. If one did not look too closely. The fireplaces were cold, for one thing. Flames danced on logs as thick as a man’s leg, but gave no heat. The walls behind the tapestries, the ceiling high above the lamps, were undressed stone, almost black. There were no windows, and only two doorways, one at either end of the room. It was as if someone had intended to give the semblance of a palace reception chamber but had not cared enough to bother with more than the outline and a few touches for detail.

Where the chamber was, the man who called himself Bors did not know, nor did he think any of the others knew. He did not like to think about where it might be. It was enough that he had been summoned. He did not like to think about that, either, but for such a summons, even he came.

He shifted his cloak, thankful that the fires were cold, else it would have been too hot for the black wool draping him to the floor. All his clothes were black. The bulky folds of the cloak hid the stoop he used to disguise his height, and bred confusion as to whether he was thin or thick. He was not the only one there enveloped in a tailor’s span of cloth.

Silently he watched his companions. Patience had marked much of his life. Always, if he waited and watched long enough, someone made a mistake. Most of the men and women here might have had the same philosophy; they watched, and listened silently to those who had to speak. Some people could not bear waiting, or silence, and so gave away more