Towers of Midnight:
Cuttings Of Hope

[previous Page]

Halima stared at the woman that entered the room, clad in black and silver, with a man that claimed her as his own, and her lips twisted. There was something quite funny in seeing another woman in exactly the same state she was. Of course, Narishma had no other warder, but the similarities still applied. Logain glanced at her, muttering something she didn't quite heard. "Be very careful when holding saidin, Halima." He said in a louder voice, "You've not felt the taint so far, and I don't want to lose you if you'll misstep."

"I know what to do, Logain." She answered, "I've know more of saidin than you can imagine."

"But you know nothing about the taint, Halima. And, as much as you know about the power, a misstep would kill you as soon as it would kill the newest soldier."

Halima didn't like it that she needed his permission to touch the One Power, she never liked to be controlled.

As much as she was warned, nothing could ready her for that was of distaste. It crushed into her, burning a path into her, making her stomach rmble. She wanted the throw up, to cuddle in a small conrner and never let her out to the world again. It was everything she had beened warned from and more.

What saved her, something Logain might not be aware of, was the insticts builded in a man who channeled saidin for so long, even in her new body. She was no more aware of the struggle with saidin, that battle surged inside her as well as inside any other holding saidin. But it wasn't in her control anymore. Had she been the one fighting saidin, she would have been dead on the spot.

As it was, however, all that was shown outwardly was a cover of sweat on her face, and paleness in her cheeks. Logain sent a hand to support her, but she shrugged it off. She didn't need his help. She didn't want his help!

"What are we waiting for?" The broken bond to the Dark One had protected her from the taint, she could never imagine it being so bad. Saidin's taint was more horrible than she believed possible, it had to be cleansed. She had rottened before, when she awoke in an old man's body, she had no intention of letting it happen again.

A sudden vision came to her mind, Logain, mad, rottened, unaware of his actions, of what he had become. Love is a weakness, she told herself, she had been forced to betray the Dark One. She couldn't afford herself weakness as of now. She couldn't let herself fall in love with the man who senteced her to another death.

Nynaeve walked hurriedly through the Light cursed corridor, she could feel the weight of the entire moutain on her shoulders. She didn't trust those Asha'man, and Rand can burn for it! How could anyone live in this place? Glancing at the ceiling she shivered. "I'm sure that Rand took care of the strenght of this place, Nynaeve." Lan said, a small smiled appeared on his face, but his eyes help no amusement. Light, what would she have to do to keep him alive? "And the Asha'man wouldn't miss such thing, this will hold, for a little while more at least."

She glared at him, her nervousness had nothing to do with the small fact that an entire emountain might fall on her head any moment. Oh, Light, just let it hold! Today was the day, the day Rand meant to clean saidin in, and the affects of the action they were about to do tied her stomach in knots.

I can not allow failure, she thought, it must be! Failure would resultdrastic results. If the taint remains on saidin by the end of the day, then all hope would die. And Rand would go mad before he could face the Dark One in the Pit of Doom. I will destroy this world myself, burn it to ashes, sink the earth and dry the oceans, and never will let the Dark One have it. As much as the world will suffer, it will be nothing compare to what Shait'ain will do. Rand's words, and clear blue gray, cold as winter night, hard as stone, he looked sane, but could it be that he had gone mad already? Saying the Dark One's name aloud? Threatening to destroy the world?

The problem was... Nynaeve couldn't find the flaws in his logic. Without Rand, the world was doomed, and if he would go mad... Kinslayer, the word echoed in her mind almost every time she looked at Rand and saw another man, not the boy she had been asked to watched when she was young. She didn't like the new Rand, hard and cold and full of acid.

She already griefed for the boy that left the Two Rivers, he died the moment Moiraine took him from home. Killed by the Dragon Reborn, and the duty to take care of the world. It wasn't fair that one man had so much responsibility. People could break under so much pressure, but Rand wouldn't let himself break. She knew him enough to know that. He would hide every pain he felt, ignore common sence, and would continue anyway. No matter who was hurt in the process, even himself.

"We arrived," she said when the black familiar door appeared in front of her. At least this time she hadn't gone lost, all those caves look very much alike for her. She was surprised to hear her voice, not at all like she felt. It showed none of the fear and the uncertainty that nearly sent her running in pure fear.

"Nynaeve," Lan said when he was about to open the door for her, "More than once, I've thought that I'm about to die in battle." His eyes became bleak, dead. "More than once, I wanted to die in battle. However the world will be at sunset, all you've to do is your best, and let the wheel weave as the weave wish."

"And what if my best isn't enough, Lan?" She asked, "All this grand plan is based on me, and I don't know if half of what Rand planned is possible, the other half simply can't work. Now you understand, if we fail today, the destruction of the world will be myresponsbility."

"You can try, Nynaeve. Nothing more is required from you, by Rand or by me or by the Wheel of Time itself." Lan said, and she had to blink to brush away tears from her eyes.

They entered the room, the last that came in, and Rand's stare hit her like a hammer between the eyes. He didn't glare or stare hard, but even that flat look sent bubbles of fear into her stomach. Lan eyes scanned the room, he bowed his head a little toward Brigitte. Scanned the Asha'man in cold eyes. Flinn was there, and sent her a small smile, he was a healer, and good one despite being a man. She could almost like him, if he couldn't channel. Logain sent her a considering look, and Leane stood by his side, and Halima, Nynaeve glared at the woman, but the glare only produced a smile, something tweaked her nose. And Halima's smile widden when she jumped. Another Aes Sedai stood near Logain, she didn't recognized her, the Aes Sedai glared at Halima, hard enough to make a tree fall, but such things only seemed to amuse Halima.

A woman in black and silver look at Halima in... amusement, Lanfear, the name itself made her strenghten her hold on saidar, but it was useless, Lanfear was stronger than she herself was. Elayne had talked a considerable time about her, when Rand took her as a warder, which was incredible even for the new Rand. Now she stood near to a tall boy in black that looked like he was about to wrap a blanket over the woman, so no one but he could see her. He must be Narishma, Elayne talked about him too, in the same tone of voice she would have used for a wounded boy. He looked quite pleased with himself, and carried himself in arrogance that almost equaled Rand's.

The four other men in black were unfamiliar to her, they took part in some of the meeting, when they planned in details this madness. But she didn't know their names. The Aes Sedai, of course, were another matter. Nynaeve could see skirts being carefully arranged, motions that were too quick, they were nervous, maybe as much as she was.

"It's about time, Nynaeve." Rand said coldly, his eyes went to lan, and there was something in his eyes, the sort of glance that held entire conversation in.

"You owe me one hundred crowns." Lan said flatly, and Rand laughed, suddenly looking like the old Rand again. So free and without a single worry about tomorrow or today. He looked so tired Nynaeve couldn't understand how he still stood. And he called this week and a half since they rejoined a vacation! When he worked himself harder than any three men she had ever seen.

Nynaeve turned to look at him, "Later, Nynaeve." He promised, and he would answer her later, she promised herself.

"Let's begin it," Min said, she made a strange move with her hands, maybe easing the daggers she held in her sleeves, "I don't think I can wait for long."

Rand nodded, smiling briefly at her direction, "It's time," he anounced, "time to clean saidin." And opened a gateway.

It was more than six hours later, and there she still sat, shell shocked. Unbelievable. Completely unbelievable. The books lay opened before her, passages and columns left open in selected spots, but she did not see them, or anything else. The information the books had revealed had sent her on her mental heels. It had taken every bit of self control she had to resists the impulse to burn the books to ashes. The Aiel were savages, the world had been shattered into nations at constant war with one another, petty rulers hoarding power as best they could, the Dark One awaited his release, this White Tower was an absolutely loathsome organization of pretenders, saidin was tainted, and Lews Therin ... Lews Therin was doomed, his ultimate fate prophesied over millennia. By all the Light, there seemed to be no relief in sight. At least now she knew why her mention of Lews Therin to Halec had urged the woman in the streets to call her Friend of the Dark, or 'Darkfriend as they were called now. Curt and informal, that name was, but it served just as well for description, and meant just the same thing. What was she doing? Comparing terms whilst what she needed most to do, now that she knew all of this, was to find Lews Therin? But now that she did know the truth, the whole truth, the reasons why, she wondered if she could accept being near him. He had been mad when he killed her, and everyone else - killed their children! Their beautiful children! - but it was his fault, his pride, that had caused the tainting of saidin, and the horrible fate that every male channeler had suffered for an entire Age. His fault that an Age was ended! His fault that the world was dying! Ilyena shook her head, furious at herself as much as at her husband. There had been another option, of course. The two great sa'angrel that had been made, but by the time Lews Therin had moved his plan into motion, the two mighty sa'angrel had been lost to them in any case. In truth, Lews Therin had not had a choice. But that did not make it any easier.

Taking a deep breath, Ilyena stood, collecting the books and slowly moving to the shelves. Considering the amount of time that she had spent here, she felt it was safe to assume that the servants had not told anyone what had happened. Still, best not to take her chances, the woman mused as she placed the last book back on the shelves. Glancing over to the sitting area, she saw Der was slumped in the large chair he occupied, head on his chest, sleeping. Shaking her head, the Aes Sedai walked crisply over to the man, shaking him awake. His eyes opened groggily. "Since you're so keen upon helping me, Der, you might as well lead me to someone who can tell me where the Dragon was last seen," she said crisply.

The man's eyes widened, "No one knows that--" he began.

"Someone must. And I'm sure there is someone who can tell me who that someone was," she answered sharply.

"I suppose," he muttered. "I never really went at looking over hard."

"I would think not," she said, "What reason had you? In any case, if you still desire to help me, you will find such a person."

"Very well," the man said, nodding thoughtfully. "I know the sort. I'm not making any promises, though."

"I would suspect you more if you did. Only fools make promsies they can't hold." I will love you, and protect you from anything in the world, Ilyena Sunhair! So Lews Therin promised. He broke that promise, maybe the only promise he had ever broken. She doubted if she could ever forgive him this.

"My Lord, the woman's name is Ilyena Sunhair," Der Cal said the to Lord Vernhar.

"Rather gratuitous, don't you think?" the nobleman yawned.

"She paused once before her surname. I suspect it's a false one."

"How intellectual of you. In any case, what does she want?"Vernhar learned well his lessons in history. And the name wasn't one any sane woman would take.

"Young or no, she's as Aes Sedai as they come."

"What?!" The nobleman's languid manner evaporated. That was something he hadn't expected.

"I tell nothing but the truth," was Cal's grim reply.

"What else did you learn?" So she might be sane after all, only fools tried to understand Aes Sedai's ways.

"She is inordinately curious about the Dragon Reborn," Cal said, "Even for these days. She spent what must have been six or seven hours straight reading about him and stuff connected to him."

"Strange, but not so strange. No doubt the Aes Sedai would put a great many hooks indeed into the man, should they be given half a chance."

"My Lord, she asked me to locate an agent who can tell her where the Lord Dragon is," Cal returned.

"Truly?" Vernhar's eyes light up, "Indeed... Do it."

"What!?"

"I said, do it. What harm can come of it?" Cal eyed Vernhar warily for a long moment and then smiled, catlike.

"What damage, indeed."

"I am asking you to find the last known location of the Dragon Reborn," Ilyena said with a great deal more calm than she felt. Her heart was pounding. With every word she spoke, she grew closer to her husband's location, with every word she spoke, she felt herself moving nearer. "That'll be harder and easier than anything," the small, slender man before her said. "He is always give a talk-causing appearance, but he goes here and there and everywhere before anyone can notice, too."

"I do not care how difficult it is, so long as you move as quickly as you can."

"IIf you says so, Lady. If that's the way you want it. It'll cost you, though."

"Indeed," Ilyena knew well that she had no money, but perhaps she could sell one of her braclets to procure currency. They were only ornaments, after all. Der had found her a man who could bring her to the trail that lead to Lews Therin. That was what mattered. There was other method, but she would used it only as last resource.

"As long as you understand," the man said, eyeing her suspiciously.

"I do," her voice turned authoritative. "Now, you have your task. I would not appreciate a lack of action on your part. Off you go," she gestured then, flinging a long, slender hand outwards. The man glowered at the condescending dismissal, but left none the less.

"You risk your neck speaking to people like that, now. Aes Sedai are not immune. The resentment has become all the stronger of late," Der said, approaching her side then. "The man has contacts."

"I am paying him. I have the right to treat him how I wish. As it is, all that is bruised is his ego. I have no tolerance for overblown egos."

"How ironic," Der muttered. She shot him an irritated look. The man's attempt at insult was as pathetic as his attempts at humour.

Lews Therin watched, he reminded himself of the Spider, watching from dark corner while the other side of him touching this thread and that in a web complex beyond belief. They were in a room that was big enough to contain two or three big houses. A ball of utter darkness lied on the floor, seven feet tall, five wide. The strongest and most comlex weave of protecion his refelection could draw from his memories. The darkness began dissipate, and his reflection - Lews Therin found the term amusing, and disturbingly correct. The other man was himself, reflected on twisted mirror. - stepped into it, any other that would have tried this would have died, the weave would have destroy that one completely, save the soul. The darkness disappeared, and revealed a stone table, six small balls of darkness float above it. Better safe than sorry, that lesson sank deep into his heart, and to the other him's heart, along with several others.

Callandor, shining brightly in the light produced by a single bubble of light the size of a Trolloc's head, were the first item to be revealed. Narishma held his breath when he took The Sword That Is Not A Sword in his fist. Lews Therin noted Mierin's eyes, they glint, she never changed, even with the bond, she was still eager for power.

One, two, three, one by one, darkness that swallowed every light dissappeared, Lews Therin muttered a curse. The seals he had sacrificed so much for! Three of them, the last three. A woman, Nynaeve, said something, and recieved a curt replay. Lews Therin had no interest in the words said, his mind focused on the last two spot of black that float on the air. But the man insisted to lie each of the seals on the table, moving genly, as if holding a sleeping baby. How many babies died in the Breaking?Lews Therin thought, pained.

The next spot that disappeared draw a long gasp from Mierin, from Halima, and from Birgitte, she knew what this was, knew its meaning.

There was gridness, eagerness, on Mierin's face, when a foot size statue of a woman in flowing robes, holding a crystal globe in one hand above her head, lied on the table. Narishma closed a fist around Mierin's right hand and whispered something. Lews Therin could hardly believe what he saw, Mierin that he knew would have never give up such a source of power, no matter what. Nynaeve took one glance at the statue and shivered visibly.

The last dark ball disappeared, but it was Min, a girl with a talent he had never heard of, that lied it on the table. Smart move, no man could touch it, holding saidin, and fight the temptation to draw all he could through that sa'angreal.

The circles were created, two of them. Lews Therin scanned the plan quickly, finding, as before, no flaws. Narisha, with Callandor in his hand, Flinn, Mierin and Nynaeve, formed one circle. Mierin and Narishma were there to make sure that either man or a woman could control the circle. Flinn and Nynaeve would have to clean saidin, seperate the vileness from the sweatness of saidin. Callandor was dark in Narishma's hands as he joined the circle. Nynaeve looked at him, waiting. And the second circle was created, twenty five of them, Aes Sedai that didn't deserved that titled, Asha'man that could go mad the next breath, Logain, Halima, Elayne, Aviendha. The power flow in him, both side of the source, and even the taint seemed to be muted.

"Do it," The command were delivered in emotionless tone, but Lews Therin could feel the emotion flooding through the bond, so strong that it was hard to know what you felt and what others.

Nynaeve stretched a hand toward the female statue. And at the same time, his own hand, or the reflection's, touched the male figure. The power that flowed into him with the Link was a drop compare to the ocean he draw now. Distantly he was aware of callandor, shining like the sun and bnrighter. It didn't interested him, time stopped, nothing mattered save the enormous flow of the One Power, saidin in amount more than he could believe, saidar, like a jar of wine compare to all the oceans in the world. But somehow, saidar seemed to... filter the taint, some of it, at least. It still tried to burn his very soul, their very soul, every one in the link had tasted some of the taint, maybe this was the reason he didn't felt the taint so much. He wasn't sure who he was at that moment, how much of his was Lews Therin, how much of him was the other. But for a moment, less than a heartbeat, he could forget the purpose of this day, and simply enjoy the flow of power through him, for the barest moment, he could allow to himself to forget duty.

Min wished she could understand more clearly what she was seeing. Every man and woman in the room were surrounded with auras and pictures, too jumbled together to be sure what belonged to who. For her eyes, it looked like half a dozen fireworks displays. But now, from the moment they began to use the sa'angreals all the auras and picture... faded. She saw then only from the edge of her eye, and even then, as if she was staring at something that was right beyond hot fire, they looked... strange, twisted somehow. It was always so when someone held the source, now, it was tousand times stronger.

She leaned on the wall and chewed her lower lip worriedly. Rand, Elayne and Aviendha tried to explain her what was due to happen. She could understand the general idea, but not the details. Finally, all three of them gave up, there were things you could never easily explain to those who never touched the One Power. She couldn't like it, that she was unable to understand something. That there was a part in Rand's life, a great part, she could never truly understand.

In took an effort, to move her eyes to Nynaeve, the woman stood with one hand holding the female figure, she stared at something in the air, it seemed to take all her attention. Narishma, Flinn and Mierin's eyes were focused at the same spot. Min snorted wordlessly at the sight of the silver hair woman, she despised the woman.

Narishma held callandor, and the sword shine so brightly it burned an image in her eyes. The four of them, Flinn and Narishma, Nynaeve and Mierin, were those who will actually clean saidin. The statue of a woman in a flowing robes was a ter'angreal , one that Elayne was eager to study, yet Min knew she will never ask to study this ter'angreal. For fear of Rand's answer. Elayne was horrified by the very idea that he might refuse, terrored from the possibility he might agree. The ter'angreal connected any woman that could touch the female half of the true source into a huge replica of itself. And allowed that woman to draw all the power one could dream of, while avoiding the bars set by the nature of the One Power itself. As Rand defined it, grim and cold and angry at the same time. She could almost feel that Lews Therin had affected him that time.

'It had to be saidar, you couldn't use saidin to clean saidin. The weave used for cleaning, if saidin is used, will pour the taint into saidin, and we'll achive nothing.' Another thing Rand said, he had shown knowledge in the One Power that, according to Elayne and Aviendha, was far beyond any save the forsakens.

Min began to hate Lews Therin with passion even before he had taken control over Rand. Shivering, she hugged herself. Birgitte lied a comforting hand over her shoulder,"It will all be fine, Min." She said, "He will never allowanything else."

"How can you be so trustful with him?" Min demanded in a whisper, "He isn't so sure, and he should know. He planned it all."

Blue eyes met brown, "You know who I am, don't you? Elayne told you." It was hardly a question.

Min blushed, "She had no need to, I guessed about you long ago." The woman looked nothing beyond twenty five, but her aura... she was old!

"Ta'veren, Min. In such importance, the wheel weaves as the wheel will." Elayne's warder replayed.

"I've seen too much to believe it," Min said sadly, "I -"

"Even without being ta'veren, he's too stubborn to let anything happen. In all my memories, I can't recall a time he failed with something he wanted in so much." Min smiled at her.

"You talk like he can do everything, he's just a man, even the Dragon Reborn is just a man."

"It has nothing to do with what he was, Min." The woman said, "And it haseverything with who he is. I've known other people who had that quality, Arthur Hawkwing was one, so is Egwene. I think Logain has it too." Birgitte looked at her and her lips carved in a small smile. "You had it too, although I doubt if you know it. But no one can equal Lews Therin in sheer stubborness. He's smart, genius, when it reached battle." She laughed softly, keeping her voice low. "I don't know much about Rand al'Thor, but Lews Therin was one of the smartest men I've even knew. 'The worst enemy one could have, the best friend one could wish. Nothing more can be said about him.'" She seemed to be quoting. "Whatever he does, Lews Therin does fully, be that a battle that set the fate of the world, or the smallest task possible." Min nodded silently to Birgitte's words, it was very much like Rand was, even before Lews Therin. "And there are very few that can match him in battle."

"I've seen him killing a warder with his bare hands alone, Birgitte." She said, "That still doesn't-"

Birgitte cut her off, "If you believe that what will happen here today will be less than a battle than you're a fool, but you're not. Lews Therin rarely prides it, but in the War of Power, he never lost a battle." Birgitte saw the question in her eyes, "The Light was defeated, never lost." What is the difference? Min wondered, but let it lie.

"It's all set, Rand. It will require you from now." Nynaeve said suddenly. Cutting their conversation. Nynaeve was ready to begin cleaning saidin. Min didn't understand what she did until now, Elayne said Nynaeve had to make a use in the men in the link in order to give her a way to touch saidin. But she wasn't seeking saidin to use it, she was seeking the tainted male half of the True Source, that was why callandor had to be used. To give Nynaeve an... openning, so she could handle more of saidin.

By what she understood, Nynaeve needed callandor because the sword gave her enough... space to work on saidin . Whatever that meant. It had something to do with the amount and strenght of the flows that Nynaeve could use in order to clean saidin. It was callandor that let her have enough of saidin to work on comfortably. Min leaned against the wall and watched.

Rand growled something, and sent his hand to touch one seal, then another, and the third. Something appeared in the air, a ball, or a cube, it was hard to know, and it seemed to change with every glance you gave it. The colors, however, didn't change, angry golden red, two shades brighter than Elayne's hair, dark green, a strange mix of purple and violet. She knew what this was, at least.

The seals were ter'angreals, and special one at that, builded to be a focus point for a single weave. Rand had no other choice but to use them, despite their weakness. It frustrated him, that heart stone could become so fragile. And became even more frustrated that he had no other choice save using them. At the end of this day, he said this morning, it may very well be that I'll set the Dark One free myself. Rand noted darkly, more than once.

Toviene never thought that so much of the One Power could exist, even the glimps of the taint that made her glad that she hadn't eaten anything today, couldn't make her joy dim.

She knew what al'Thor was doing, could see it, feel it, feel saidin. Though the link, saidin looked... different than saidar, very different, but she could see how the differences between the two sides of the One Power were designed to fit each other perfectly. 'Saidin and saidar work both together and against each other in order to turn the wheel of time.' The saying had to come from the Age of Legends, no doubt from an Aes Sedai, male or a female, that were a part of a link.

Saidin was what al'Thor mainly used, all the five powers, with more flows that she could count connecting them to the bright mass that hang above the table. Saidar was used only to... match gaps, to strengthen the prison he was building.

It was a prison, and she could see the taint, being poured to it. The taint had been seperated from saidin, but it had to go somewhere. And even that prison couldn't hold. The weave needed a focus point, something strong enough to support it, and the seals, despite their supposed weekness, where the only ter'angreal that survived the breaking and fit to the task. Not that this meant anything, they might, barely, suffice the necessary strenght. The weave wasn't made to be held by three focus points already, and, without any other choice, al'Thor had to use himself, and the link, to supply the missing focus points the weave needed.

Looking at Nynaeve's direction was hard, saidar hurt her eyes, the woman shined like thousands suns. But, with so much of the One Power filling her through the link - even when one wasn't in the control of the link, the affects of the One Power were clear - she could vaguely see what the woman did. Countless flows, each of them had been wove as small as Nynaeve could make it. She used the flow of saidin that she controlled through the link to move the flows into saidin, and the more of saidin being drawn, the more flows she could send into the male half of the One Power, and the easier Nynaeve should find it, cleaning saidin.

She let it drop, she was a part of a link, and al'Thor wove the flows. There was nothing she could do about it. She let herself down in the ecstasy so much of the One Power. She couldn't recall when she had felt so much joy, so much life.

No, she did felt the same before, when Logain kissed her and made her his warder.

The ride back had been unarguably one of the worst hours of her life. Breaking down and crying was something she could not remember doing since she was rised to the shawl. Almost sixty years ago. True, she had screamed for mercy under the birch before her ignominious time of penance under Mistress Jara Doweel on that Light-cursed Black Hills farm, but she had not cried. Not even finding out that Elaida had slipped through untouched and danced her way to the Amyrlin Seat had managed to even coax a tear of frustration from her. What it had taken was Logain Ablar and what her had done to her... She had cried all the way to the Black Tower with her face buried in his black coat. Maybe an Asha'man's coat was made for soaking up the tears of women. There wasn't even a stain! The man had tried to soothe her, even stroking her hair as if she was his horse ! Burn him ! But even that half-hearted curse did not want to pass her lips.

When she had at last raised her head, eyes red and nose probably running, she had demanded to know where they were going. He had refused to answer her. It was that pretty boy she had heard him call Vinchova who supplied the reply, "The Black Tower."

At first she thought that she had been struck by lightning as the realization passed through her. Then she, Toveine Gazal, had commenced to wail and pound the tall man who held her in front of his saddle with both fists. Not too hard, of course.And it took a single order from him to make her seat tight and keep her mouth shut. She threw down her pen in frustrated anger at the memory, not caring that the large drops of ink splattered across the finely detailed drawing that she had been working on for two nights. The sudden gesture made the two other women at the long table jump, but they said nothing in the presence of an Aes Sedai whom they still regarded with slight awe. Even though she was persona-non-grata here on the farm. Toverine knew they would have felt otherwise if she hadn't been bonded to Logain.

Sora Grady and Kimali Naric were the wife and sister of two Asha'man respectively. Sora's two young sons were playing a game involving a handful of polished pebbles by the fire, and this newly-built one room structure that was almost a barn was the exclusive domain of the few women of the farm when it was not being used as a mess-hall.

Toveine strode to the window with an angry whisk of white-slashed red skirts, and the two women exchanged glances before resuming their knitting and mending. What they did not see was the trembling of her fingers as they plucked anxiously at the pleated bodice of her gown as she stared blindly out through the glass into the night.

The bare yard was lighted only by the glowing balls of saidin-wrought flame that the men had tied off. The earth was still damp from the light rain that had fallen much to the surprise and joy of everyone, but three long lines of men were still training out there under the direction of the one-handed Aielman who avoided every Aes Sedai like the plague. The training never seemed to end, day or night, there were always Asha'man training in that yard.

She gave a soft, humorless laugh. Half the men on the farm avoided her like the plague, and the others were either terribly curious about her or ready to kill her at the twitch of an eyelash. No wonder; she was in the worst and most incongruous of all possible situations. A Red sister on a farm full of men who could Channel. Even the thought still made her stomach turn over. It was not a pleasant sensation.

She had been torn between hysteria and curiosity on the day of her arrival, but she had immediately noted that the Black Tower was barely more than an impromptu training ground as yet, and she had filed that away with a thousand other details. The sheer number of the men, however, had sent her reeling, and the apparent fact that all of them could channel was even worse. How could her Ajah have let so many slip through her fingers all these years ? The answer was horrible but plain; they had merely culled the wilders out of the group, leaving the larger body who could learn. But what man would want to learn? Enough, apperantly, already far too many.

She had lived to regret those thoughts, for after he had deposited her amongst the women and practically forced a cup of soup down her throat he had demanded to know all that had been passing through her mind at the sight of the farm. Everything had been dragged out by a force she could not control, leaving her pale-faced and shaking under his scrutiny. All of the details her mind had automatically gathered for the Tower, her intentions of gathering information from the inside, and even how she had noted that the back door hinges were squeaking and needed to be oiled if she was to attempt an escape.

Then the insufferable man had patted her hand and told her that she was to keep all observations to herself, secret from the White Tower. "And, oh, before I'll forgot, you better know that you could never escape. You would not even want to." She murmured, mimicking the fool. To her chagrin, he was right.

She could not even hate him, even though she would have dearly loved to be able to feel the strengthening effects of that virulent emotion. And he had been crafty enough to make her see him in a good light by giving her permission to use the Power for chores. It only reminded her how far she had fallen.

It was simply not fair !

She had not seen him again after that incident. And she had no inclination to see him, shetold herself firmly. He is gone for three days already, and no one seems to know where he is. She knew he was well, at least, she could feel no wounds in him, and all she could say was that he was troubled and worried, somewhere east from Andor.

The women had been a little hesitant, but accepting all the same. Country women, most of them, but she had had twenty years to learn to respect the backbone of country women. These were no weaklings, they were the survivors, those who had managed to overcome fear and opposition to live here amongst men who could turn mad like rabid wolves at any moment. She still felt queasy herself, now and then. The women were no use as allies; all their loyalty they owed to the Bla... She shook herself. The farm. It was the farm. She would not call it the Black Tower ! Her sanity depended upon a game of denial.

The glass pane was cool to the touch, and she rested her forehead against it.

She had seen and been seen by the man Logain called M'Hael. Hawk-nosed, moderately tall for a man and perhaps attractive to some women, but she felt that he was not what he wanted to be seen as. He had not spoken to her or summoned her, and indeed the sole extent of his notice had been a savage glare from across the yard. Yet she observed how he walked as if he was trying to show every inch of height to the best advantage, how he snapped his commands as if testing his men's obedience. Above all she remembered what Logain had said about him, and she drew her own conclusions. And she was sure that the M'Hael wouldn't be pleased by them.

She felt no urge to do anything, and that was what frustrated her. She, Toveine Gazal, would not be a victim!

The sound of hinges creaking made her whirl around. It was not till later that she realized that she had not reached for saidar as any Aes Sedai might have done. Not when Logain's orders not to embrace the Source still stood. All she could do with the power were the house chores.

The tall man who stood filling the doorway with his black-coated bulk was a menacing sight, but Kimali merely turned her head slightly and nodded to a kettle suspended over the dying embers of the fire.

"There's still some stew left."

"No, thank you," Logain gave her a small bow and a smile. "I want Toveine."

Shocked silence. Rolling anger crashing in waves on a rocky beach and floating kelp beds of embarrassment. Her cheeks were on fire, from anger or from embarecment, she couldn't really tell. "You arrogant imbecile of a muleteer's..."Her jaws worked, but the stream of words fighting to come out choked her with its sheer amount.

Sora Grady flinched. Some part of Toveine's mind thought it odd that this woman who would not hesitate to call down five Asha'man for tracking in mud on a clean floor would be unnerved by an Aes Sedai using less-than-delicate words, but that was only a small part. For the most she was furious, embarrassed, speechless and ridiculously glad that he had decided to show his face at last.

He must have realized that his choice of words was bad and he had the grace to look embarassed. "Light, there's no need to explode, Toveine ! I just meant that I want to speak with you for a while, in private."

"You could have asked me." She crossed her arms tightly under her breasts, fuming. He needed a shave, she saw, and a good rest as well. His coat was rumpled, his boots scuffed, his eyes were red and in the back on her head, she sensed tiredness.

He closed his eyes briefly. "Toveine," The tone of his voice was ample warning, but she lifted her chin and glided past him to the door as though she had received a formal invitation from a steward.

The night air was cool, for a wonder. She had found her wool dress unsuited to the heat. After all, she had dressed for snow... Mayhap the drought was finally ending, and none too soon. The leatherleaf trees were half-dead, brown skeletons reaching pleading arms up to the sky for the storms that would not come, the pines yellow and brown and red. But the soil was wet, and underground dry, dusty roots would be taking their first drink in a long time.

She could walk fast, but the Light-cursed man caught up easily with his loping strides and somehow she found herself walking fast just to keep up with him. He sighed, and she wanted to strangel herself for feeling sorry for him."Toveine, I know you are angry with me..."

"I wish I could say I hate you !" she half-wept, knowing that she could not lie, blocked as she was by the Three Oaths, twitching her skirts agitatedly. "I was a Sitter of the Hall, did you know that? I fell from grace and position. During the last twenty years I've served penance laboring on an accursed farm in the Black Hills. Throughout that time all I dreamed of was rising again to the position I should have had! And now, when I have already been called back, when finally I stood on the threshold, you had to happen to me!"

"Light, Toveine ! It was not as if I had a choice !" A hand twice as large as her own caught her by the arm and spun her around. "You were bent on riding all the way back to Tar Valon if you had half a chance, for reinforcements." His voice changed, became grim, "And wasn't it you Aes Sedai who were out hunting us?" His voice hardened. "You are of the Red Ajah, and don't think I do not recognize you from that time in Andor..."

"You were not treated harshly, and it was my duty !" This was what she had been dreading, that her would remember her from Andor, when they had marched him through the streets, a False Dragon in a cage. The first and the only time she left the Black Hills in twenty years. She had not held his shield, she had not even journeyed back to Tar Valon with them, but she had come with Katerine to look at him, and he remembered!

"Not treated harshly?" His voice was savage. "Do you know what it was like to be on display like a circus animal ? To be led to Tar Valon to face certain death all because I was born with...." Abruptly he cut off. She turned to see three black-coated men exit a building with two women in their midst.

She recognized Lemai at once; the pretty Taraboner's big brown eyes were glazed still, as if she had fallen into a trance. Toveine remembered how... compelling bond could be, she felt in on her own flesh, her own soul. The other woman was also Aes Sedai; a willowy Green from Saldaea; Runea Khirmal. She had one hand pressed to her stomach, the other to her mouth, and now and then a low moan issued through her fingers as she stared almost wildly at the man who held her by the elbow. She looked as if she wanted to sick up.

Toveine could sympathize with them. Sent out to hunt Asha'man and now they were bonded to them. The men had evidently decided to ensure that the leaders gave no trouble, she thought grimly. All the Aes Sedai that had been captured had been bonded, Runea's party was capture today, four more parties left. She didn't doubt that the last twenty Aes Sedai will be captured and taken as warders too. Fifty Aes Sedai, sent out to destroy the Black Tower. Fifty Aes Sedai that now would die for the Black Tower!

When they would not return, Elaida may send more Aes Sedai, more warders to the Asha'man, at the end, Elaida may deliver the entire White Tower into the Asha'man's hands.

Logain was silent when she turned to him, and at least her voice had regained it's calm, as if seeing the others was enough to fortify her. "What happened to Runea's Warders ?" Ordinarily she dissaproved of Greens and Gaidin. But now, no matter the Ajah, every woman was Aes Sedai.

Logain looked at her, then away. "One died in the fighting. The other is alive and under guard." As if on afterthought her added, "Do not worry, Jurdon will take good care of her. He has no other choice." The last was said so quietly she wasn't sure whether it was intended for her ears or not. She watched as the two women were led away. Lemai had begun to weep quietly.

"What is Kajima doing here ? He is but a Dedicated." She protested, it was equal to an Accepted taking a warder, in all the White Tower history, it happened only once.

"He was learning how to do it." He had her by the arm again, and was leading her implacably away, toward a tent placed beneath several oaks that survive the great heat. "You have a good memory for faces, it seems. So soon and you already know men by name. You must have spent your days counting heads and noting fortifications and grain stores."

He lifted the tent flap for her. She balked. Inside a lamp was lit, and there was a sturdy table littered with books and papers, two chairs and clothes on hooks. A narrow bed stood on one side. Boots under the bed, a sword still in its sheathe by the table, a pipe and the smell of tabac smoke. A very personal, masculine abode."Go in!" He ordered. The direct command made her clench her jaw, but she obeyed. She had to. "Sit down." Was she a dog, to be threated so?

She sat on the edge of one of the chairs, watching him pace up and down a few times, hand absently rubbing the back of his neck. In the confines of the tent he seemed even larger, dwarfing her. Shoulders an axe-handle wide, as Mistress Doweel... Strange, she had not noticed he was handsome till now. Not at all to her usual preference, but handsome. "What will you do with me?"

"With you ? " he said almost absently. "Nothing. You are free to do as you like, but don't try to escap and don't anger an Asha'man. You cannot try to bore holes in Jonan Marley's skull with your eyes and then throw the soup ladle at him telling him to dip himself into the pot, for instance. Try a little persuasion. I thought Aes Sedai were good at that."

She felt herself stiffening like a cat scenting a dog, but she let that pass. "If he finds fault with the way I dip soup, he can satisfy himself. I did not live all my years to end up serving soup to spoilt boys. And I'm no gray. Since you seemed to admire my observation, Logain Ablar, what are you hiding?"

He actually looked surprised. It was a small, bitter satisfaction. "I have few things to tell you. The first, you're not the first I've taken."

Silence. "Is that all you wanted to say ?" She had suspected, ever since the first day and Vinchova's words, but why did she feel this alien, prickly feeling inside ? "All that remains to be known is her identity."

He stared, then ducked his head and muttered. "I must be mad.....her name is Leane. She's...."

"The former Keeper of the Chronicles !" Astonishment washed away the pain for a moment. "How....she was stilled !"

He barked a laugh. "Not quite, Toveine. She has Healed her. And she is mine. The only reason I tell you this is your loyalty, like it or not, is to mine now. I was Healed too, if you haven't noticed."

Her jaw almost touched her chest before she snapped her gaping mouth shut. Her mind reeled. Healed Stilling ? Healed a stilled woman, a gentled man ? Light help her... She felt something take hold of her, and she floated up into the air.

Her eyes went wide. Saidin. He was using it on her ! She opened her mouth to scream, or to give him a sharp piece of her tongue, but all he did was putting her down gently on the bed beside him.

Logain she could get used to, given time, but this ! Her chest was still heaving when he leaned over and took her hand, running his thumb over her palm, feeling the calluses she tried so hard to hide.

"You worked for twenty years on a farm." Why was his tone so warm, so kind? "Even I have never known what it is to do that. You are an exceptional woman, Toveine, and the White Tower might be harsher than I thought."

Something nudged her consciousness, something familiar in it's intensity. Bubbling honey, a harpstring. He was trying to knock her off balance, manipulate her! She fought it, fought it as hard as anything she had ever fought in her life. Gripping the edge of the bed till her knuckles turned white, she quivered like a leaf in high wind. This was not right....

"You will tell no one about anything concerning Salidar, Leane or myself, or indeed anything we might speak of from now on except to others who share the Bond...."Abruptly, he snapped off. "Blood and ashes." He pried her hand off the wood. Splinters had worked into her palm from the strength of her grip, staining the wood red in places.

The sense. The savour of a saidar being tapped nearby, a woman channeler... she opened her mouth, but he was sweeping on, "I'm sorry, Toveine, I pushed too hard... these weaves are difficult handling."

"That is because the form of Bonding that the Asha'man so clumsily use is leaning towards the forbidden arts of Compulsion." The new voice was as much of a shock as sensing the use of saidar had been. The tall, swan-like woman who glided in was now coolly removing her gloves. When her hood dropped, the face that emerged did not match the voice at all.

It was all Toveine could do to keep from gaping. It was Leane Sharif's face, yet is was not her face. This was the face of a young woman, soft and dark-eyed, not the face of the former Keeper of the Chronicles. The light that shone in those eyes was the light of anger.

"Logain, what is this?" Toveine sat up cautiously, arranging her skirts. Jealousy was easily recognizable. Logain signed tiredly, "This is Toveine, Leane." His voice took a protective tone. "As I've told you, I made no promises that you would be the only one." Logain was more foolish in these matters than she had thought. "You are a Green now, you should understand."

Leane seemed to have lost the rigid control of her face along with agelessness, for a gamut of emotions ran clearly across her features before she moved forward deliberately and slapped him across the face. Hard.

Toveine's hand raised to her own cheek before she could help it. She could feel the sting, but of course the sensation, and Logain's shock, was only in a small pocket of her mind.

Leane a Green? Switching Ajahs? She half-supposed that Leane would slap her next, but the woman made no move. She cocked her head to one side. Strange, Leane was a rebel, a stilled woman who should have been executed with a trail of sins behind her... But she could feel no animosity for her, or any desire to take her down. There was only a comfortable, warm feeling. That feeling was alien to Toveine Gazal.

Before anything else could happen, the tent flap was torn aside and the flushed face of a man in his middle years with two belled braids hanging down oddly on either side of it was poked in. A silver sword glittered on one side of his high, Andoran collar.

"I thought I might find some of the Aes Sedai here," he said breathlessly. "Good evening, Asha'man," this to Logain. "But one of the Aes Sedai is in a bad way, screaming and trashing about. Jonan, Machil and the rest won't say it, but they are at their wits end." The accent of Arafel was heavy on his tongue.

Leane spun around, then looked at her in surprise. "There are others?"

Toveine was already up and walking to the entrance. "It's Runea. I'm sure of it." She was moving so fast that the Domani woman had to pick up her skirts and run after her. The surprised Dedicated did not need to lead them; the shrill sound of a woman's screams was more than enough guidance. Then the sound cut off abruptly.

She thought her heart might burst as she reached the long white tent that housed those who lead the parties. Being the leaders and those most likely to cause trouble, they were kept separate from the other Aes Sedai , despite being bonded to Asha'man.

The glow of the lit lamps inside made the tent look eerie in the dark night.

People had come out , drawn by the screams, and more than once black-coated figures moved as if to intercept or to strike the two women who moved do freely, yet every time a single glance from Logain or the Dedicated made them reconsider. The sound of weeping hit her as she ducked into the tent, it was the place she slept in, but the two parties that were captured today, and it changed everything.

The place had been divided into six cubicles with white curtains, each containing a bed, a washstand, and whatever extra furniture the men had managed to find. Most of the furniture was battered and not in such good condition. Evidently they had not been expecting such a fine haul of captives, she thought sourly. Toveine rather not think about the rest of the Aes Sedai she had led, twenty four of them, at the moment, all stuffed in a house that had been used as a barn before, and fit for half that number. The Asha'man took care of their warders as much as they could, that, she had to give them. It was the M'Hael's order that made such conditions necessary, otherwise, things would have been by far smoother.

Fourteen more would be sent to that barn, and four more places would be taken in the white tent.

Most of the curtains had been drawn back, and she saw Chismal Couran, all her proud White coolness gone as she sat hunched beside her bed, hugging herself tightly, head down. By her stood a lanky, dark-haired man who looked as if he had just been trampled by runaway horses. Not surprising, if the bond was anything like the Warder bond. Not that she knew much about that. From what she had heard, Chismal had put up a terrible struggle. Chismal, fighting!

Square-faced, pale-haired Jenare in crumpled red silk, pressed against the wall as if she wished she could melt through it, staring at the grey-haired man in a black coat who was trying to calm her as if she was a restive horse. Lemai, lying on her bed with her head under a pillow while the young, smooth-faced boy with her sagged on his stool.

"By the Light, I've seen battlefields in a better than this," Logain muttered. There were other men in the room, all in black coats, standing about, some idly talking. They fixed her and Leane with hard eyes.

"What do they think this is, a circus? What have they done to them to reduce them that much?" Leane demanded to know, Toveine fixed her with a look and understanding dawned on her face. "Light burn my soul! It's bad enough that these men know no fear or respect for Aes Sedai, but to let them gawk at hysterical Aes Sedai is even worse!"

"We were sent out in hunting parties by Elaida." Toveine firmed her lips in a thin line. "Suffice to say the hunt did not turn out well. Today they brought in the Green party which set out with Runea. And another one, not an hour ago."

"Is Elaida stupid or simply insane?" Leane asked incredibly.

"Maybe both," Logain muttered, Toviene felt a terrible urge to laugh. Her nerves were frayed enough already.

"Don't hold your breath," Leane muttered to low for any save her to hear, "But here comes trouble." One of the men, honey-haired and judging by his face, Andoran, had begun to stalk over to them.

Evidently he thought they should be in the same condition as the others. Leane clicked her tongue in frustration. She had seen the two cubicles at the end of the tent, all curtains drawn. They were empty when she left the tent in the morning. Inside, Toveine felt sick, but she had to keep her ground as the Andoran approached, a sneer twisting his face. How could Leane look so calm? It took effort, maintaining serenity.

"And what do you think you are doing, Leon Harimene ?" The female voice said just as the Asha'man reached them. Sora Grady had entered the tent, and smoothly stepped between the two Aes Sedai and him. "None of them belong to you."

"I going to remove two things that do not belong here," he glared at them over her head.

"Stop talking a fool boy's nonsense," she snapped. "You are not supposed to be here, all of you! What do you think this is, a show? What are Hardley and Kajima doing here? They don't even wear the Dragon!"

"Hardley and Kajima are learning what they must to survive as men in this world." Even though Leon had been answering Sora, his ice blue eyes had rested right on her, and Toveine knew that piece was meant for her ears.

"Hardley and Kajima have many things to learn to survive, and none of it can be learned here," Logain said, interferring for the first time. "Do the Soldiers and Dedicate have too much spare time on their hands ? I'm sure I could ask the M'Hael to tighten their schedules. There are more trees to be cleared, and I hear that the forest is pretty by moonlight, especially in winter."

Murmuring, Hardley and Kajima quickly detached themselves from the others and moved towards the rear exit. Some of the other men smiled and headed out as well. Others watched.

"You seem to have the habit of throwing the M'Hael's name about, Logain. I thought you considered to position of False Dragon more worthy of you, or have you changed your mind ?" Leon said smoothly. Beside her, Leane inhaled , half in anger, half in indignation.

"Maybe, Leon." Logain sounded unruffled. "But I have a feeling you are not going to want to repeat that to the M'Hael yourself." He fixed his eyes on the challenger. "Or do you want to talk about precedence further, perhaps outside or in private, do you think you can face me?" The golden dragon and the silver sword on his collar seemed to shined brighter, and he didn't hide the anger in his voice.

Leon's mocking smile became savage before he whirled and walked out through the rear entrance. "Any more takers? None? Good!" Logain strode in. "Now I suggest that all you men leave, except those who had taken one of the Aes Sedai here."

Leane's voice was as clear as a bell in the lull. "That includes you, Logain, since neither Toveine nor I are in no need of your ministrations."

The remaining men eyed her as they passed, and some smiled as Logain spluttered. The nerve of the man! Toveine opened her mouth, "We did not ask to be rescued, so if you have concluded your little display would you please go outside?"

Now he looked hurt, but the last man, grizzled and old enough to be a grandfather, caught him by the sleeve and pulled him out. As they went she heard something about women being like cats. Hmmph!

"Praise the Light," Sora Grady was briskly pouring tea from a battered metal pot into chipped cups. "I was wondering who we could get to help. The men keep saying that they can handle it, but a fat lot they know about comforting."

Toveine beamed at the woman as Sora handed a hot cup to the Asha'man with Chismal, much to his surprise, and put another on the table beside the White sister, who did not even lift her head, but Leane was already moving swiftly to the back.

The tall brown-haired young man who had been sitting on a rickety chair snapped to his feet when the Green sister whisked the curtains aside, his expression of haggard weariness and desperation disappearing to be replaced by hard eyes and tautened muscles. The look sharpened when he spied Toveine. Evidently Jonan Marley still had not forgiven her for throwing the soup at him.

For a moment she almost missed the woman sitting on the floor beside the bed in a spill of shimmering green silk skirts and a snarled tangle of sheets. When she saw her, Toveine swallowed despite herself.

Runea did not look like the calm Sitter for the Green she was. Her curling black hair fell around her face, obscuring her from view, and she was sobbing as if her heart would break. The sheets were little more than shreds, and there was a long rip down the middle of the mattress through which feathers poked.

Toveine startled herself when she moved to the opposite cubicle and pulled apart the concealing curtains. Samira Baralman sat on her mattress, arms wrapped around her knees and rocking gently back and forth. Her honey-gold braids were neat with the delicate porcelain beads worked in them, her pale yellow dress freshly laundered. She could not have made a starker contrast to Runea, but there was emptiness in her eyes. Of the two, Samira scared Toveine the most. The bearded young Lugarder in his black coat had risen to put his hands on Samira's shoulders at the sudden interruption, as if to seek to protect her from anything, yet she didn't even notice. She thought he might draw the sword on his hip against her.

Jonan stepped back, however, as Leane darted to Runea, graceful even in her rush. Toveine blinked. Since when had Leane started swaying her hips like that?

Runea stared out from behind her hair at Leane, and then she held out her arms and sank gratefully into the Domani woman's embrace.

"They killed Dareid," she wept, shoulders shaking. "We were riding thought the snow... and suddenly they were all around us. I ran... and they killed him. They just killed him." She drew a shuddering breath. "There was nothing left to bury." She lifted her head to stare with eyes full of anguish into Leane's face, then held up her balled fist. Her fingers unfolded to reveal a lock of grey-touched brown hair.

Leane held her close. It was a strange sight. Had none of this happened, Runea would not have blinked to drag Leane back to the Tower for trial and presumably execution. Yet Leane looked at Jonan, and the tall young whip of a man looked back impassively, but was that a glimmer of regret in those blue eyes?

"How many did they lose? " Leane's tone was low, angry.

Jonan gestured awkwardly to the woman he had bonded. "Runea lost one. Samira lost all three." Before Leane could say something, he added, "And I grief that as much as she does, Aes Sedai. Save your lectures."

All three of them? Toveine moved closer to the Taraboner, and the stiffening of the Asha'man with Samira was not lost on her. Evidently their tolerance only extended to those they bonded themselves, not Aes Sedai taken by others.

It had been said once that Toveine's gaze could make a snake's blood run colder than it already was. No one could hold her gaze for long when she did not want them to. It took Samira long minutes to even blink, and even then it was more because her eyes were drying than anything else.

"How long has she been like this ?" she asked, somewhat surprised at her own serenity.

The Lugarder shrugged uncomfortably. "At first she was shrieking. Only after I bonded her she became like this." He stared at her down his nose as if she was something a dog might have dragged in, and there was contempt in his tone.

She straightened, looking levelly at him before turning to Leane. "I am no Yellow, but I fear she might have been injured in some way. The shock..."

"She was not hurt !" He acted as if she had accused him of stabbing Samira. No doubt of it, the boy was full of anger and hate which he was not controlling very successfully. "Why should we listen to you? I might as well bare my heel to a red adder."

"You are young and inexperienced." Her voice was dried ice. "No matter what pin you wear on your coat, I am still old enough to be your grandmother and more. You Asha'man know nothing of the bond, and even being a Red, I have three thousands of years of White Tower knowledge behind me. Thinking that you have won this battle does not allow you to underestimate the losers, boy, or one day you will be stung, and by worse than an adder. Do you presume to challenge me on knowledge of our own? The combined shocks of a single day and losing three gaidin to your butchery could well drive her out of her mind, so stop thinking of yourself and grow into your boots!" The outburst was so unexpected that he was stunned into silence. Not only him. Leane was staring at her too. Jonan merely looked like he wished himself elsewhere, anywhere.

She was startling herself. It was... unlike... her to risk so much defending a woman who was not even Red. Lugarders had notoriously short tempers. Why, he might had... She had seen women die at the moment of stilling if it was sudden enough, brutal enough. Even if the Rebels had managed to heal Stilling she would not wager a toenail on whether they could raise people from the dead.

"You are right." It was Jonan who spoke. As if unsettled by her gaze he ran a hand through his already rumpled hair. He shot a glance at the Lugarder and spoke sharply, "Don't let anger cloud your judgement, Devon! You want her to continue like this," he gestured to Samira with a grimace.

It was the closest she had ever seen any Asha'man come to emotion. His blue eyes went to Runea and he winced. "Burn me, I can't bear her to be like this!" Devon said, "She feels nothing! I can feel no emotion through her!"

Toviene opened her mouth, but caught Leane's glance and subsided. The Domani woman left Runea, rising with a rustle of skirts to approach Jonan boldly and whisper something to him that made the colour drain from his face. In a voice just a bit louder she added, "She will recover, but I cannot say how long it will take. The way it happened..."

"Why should I trust you ?" His face was stone. "I do not like this." Jonan asked.

"You have no choice. Would you risk it by being territorial? On her expance?" Forced by two sets of eyes boring into him, he had no choice but to capitulate. Whirling on his heel, he stalked out of the tent.

Toviene shook her head. This was one reason why Reds did not like bonding. It made one too vulnerable, and they needed to be hard. Strong. At least Samira would heal, given time. Leane was already coaxing her and speaking to Devon. The woman would have made a good Grey.

She had already had so many shocks that she did not even flinch when the tent flap was slapped aside to admit Jonan and a man who walked stiffly a little in front of him. Stalked would be a better word. His hair was peppered with grey, and he wore stained, Tairen-cut clothes in greens and greys. He was unarmed, but the first thing that caught the eye was the mass of purple bruises that made up the left side of his face. That, his gait, and the look in his eyes was enough to name him Warder. "Moran!" Runea's voice was enough. The stocky man shook off Jonan's hand and was by his Aes Sedai before anyone could speak, giving what words of comfort he could as Runea began weeping afresh.

A touching scene, but Toveine's eyes were riveted on Jonan. The young face was as expressionless as if it had been carved out of stone, but his hands were clenched at his sides. So, the Asha'man did have weakness there... What use she had in collecting knowledge she will never be able to pass on?

Even more interesting was Moran's snarl when the Asha'man neared. She was still staring when Leane touched her elbow, telling her it was time to leave. It was a strange scene, the Saldaean woman releasing her pent-up grief in the presence of two men who held opposite ends of the bond with her, and who glared at each other over her head. Each of them jealous at the other, and at least one of them...

Her mouth tried to hit the floor. It was impossible, no one would be fool enough to bond a warder if that was one of the result. The shock of the discovery kept her silent even when they had gone outside, walking side by side in the welcome silence of the night looking for all the world like old friends. Logain was nowhere to be seen, but she could feel his anger.

At last Leane expelled her breath. "Now you know."

"You did not mean to tell me, did you ?" It was a bitter thought.

"No, I thought it would make things easier, had you didn't know." She smiled, then. She could not remember the last time she had smiled.

"He loves us both, doesn't he? Strange," she mused. "I always thought the love of men worthless, but it seems this differs. Is it like this with you Greens and the gaidin?"

"No! Not at all. We don't have to love them, but the men even bond with a kiss." Leane looked down at her wryly from her great height. "I expect you know that."

"Does it..." she hesitated. "Does it work the other way around?"

It was some time before the other woman answered. "I don't know. We will just have to wait and see. I would have guess so, though..."

She bit her lip in exasperation. "When I joined the Reds I expected to have protection from situations like these..."

"That is the whole problem with you Reds. There are certain things that are unavoidable." Leane laughed, and even the sound was different, husky and caressing, not at all the clipped, commanding tone that Toveine had associated with her previously. She could imagine its effect on a man. She fought the urge to wring her hands like any country woman. Was this what she would look like given a few weeks?

"Toveine, I know that we were almost enemies in everything, from Ajah to standing under two different Amyrlins, but couldn't we, for that man's sake, be friends?"

Toveine did not look at the other woman as they neared the women's quarters. "Those were the best words I have heard all day, Leane."

"I have something to tell you. We will be leaving early tomorrow, to meet the third woman. If you can call her a woman." Leane sniffed, "Logain believes it's too risky for him to remain in the Black Tower, too risky for you too, and far too risky for me to be with Egwene." Anger painted Leane's face, and... betrayel? "It's all that woman's fault, if you can call Halima a woman!"

Toveine stopped dead in her tracks to Leane's words. By the Light and her immortal soul, she would make Elaida pay for this! It had to be that cursed woman's fault, one way or another...

Toveine smiled grimly as she let the memories fade once again, now she had some of the answers she didn't have then. Logain took her and Leane both, two hours before sunrise, and left them in that hut somewhere in Gehalden's mountains. The idea of Asha'man rediscoverring Traveling horrified her. The entire Black Tower could travel to the Amyralin's study, and there wasn't a way to stop them. And Aes Sedai and warders, as much as it pained her to admit it, were no match for the Asha'man.

Halima, of course, was a surprise. Even more suprising was the fact that Leane, that seemed to hate her back in the Black Tower, obviously couldn't bring herself to do so anymore. Halima talked little, and sulked most of the time, but from what Toviene understood, Leane's crimes were nothing compare to Halima's. One of the Forsakens! In the middle of a camp full of Aes Sedai, even rebels, was a stab at her pride.

Logain left an hour after they arrived, muttering something about the M'Hael and their safety, and never looking at Halima. For once, Toviene agreed with him, if Taim could part the Asha'man from their warders, he no doubt would kill Halima. The bond that Asha'man used was too new, no one seemed to know what happened to an Asha'man who had lost his warder. No one wanted to be the first to try it.

Toviene sighed, what good was it, thinking about the past? Those days in the hut were enough to make any sane woman mad. There was nothing to do there, save talking. And even her new decision, that she and Leane can at least try to be friends, hadn't hold much when all she could do was just talk for every moment she was awake.

She was shaken out of her memries brutaly, when the Dark One first attacked.

Rand had no more need to think to handle the flow of taint Nynaeve was sending him. He could see saidar, felt it affect on saidin . But the action of receiving the taint and storing it became... automate. The prison he created, the weave that should have been used in Shayol Ghul, a weave that might have prevent the tainting of saidin, a weave that might have taint saidar too. The weave hunted him for a long time, in the War of Power, it never truly left his mind. Now, he remembered it all again, it wasn't meant to create a prison, only a... patch, and it took some modification. Worst, he didn't had enough focus points, and the three he had were so weak he used them only to stable the weave, using the men and women he was linked to as the true barrier.

It made him nervous, he expected... something, anything, from the Dark One so far. He didn't used half of the power the sa'angreal could draw, and he wasn't using half what he was drawing.

Shait'an will not let it be, fool! Lews Therin shouted, or have you forgetten the lesson I've payed so much to learn?

No one talked, Nynaeve eyes were focused on her weaving, so were Flinn's. Narishma shifted his eyes every now and then, to send a quick stare at Mierin. He touch his lips with his tongue once, the first sign of nervousness he had ever shown. Mierin didn't look at Narishma, but her eyes lied on him for a while, considerring, wonderring, before she turned her attention to the enormous weave Nynaeve was using. Rand hardly consider what he himself was doing as complex, not compare to what Nynaeve did. In fact, save Min's, Birgitte's and Lan's eyes, every one was focused on Nynaeve. Waiting for the first sign of a trouble. That was why he created another circle, not only to contain the taint, with both sa'angreal united, Nynaeve could have handled that easily herself. But there was only so much one could concentrate in, and Rand doubted that anyone could both clean saidin and defend oneself against the worst the Dark One could do. You know nothing about the worst that could happen, you've no right to boast! Lews Therin muttered angrily. Almost as if Lews Therin's words were the sign, Nynaeve's flow began to bend, to break. The Dark One counterstroked the Dragon's action once again.

Nynaeve refused to blink, even thought sweat licked into her eyes, making them burn. She couldn't allow herself to weave a single flow the wrong way. It was a monotonous task, finding that edge between the male half of the power and the taint, then sending out flows of all the five powers, in a way, it was like healing the rottenness from a wound that wasn't kept clean. But still, it required every ounce of her concentration.

She began hoping, as time passed, and more and more of the taint had been sent to Rand, maybe he couldn't react, no matter what Rand says. She thought, maybe she wouldn't have to face the Dark One himself.

She blinked, her view obscured for less then a heart beat, her eyes burned! The moment she opened her eyes again was the moment the Dark One attacked.

There was nothing she could see, not saidin, not saidar, simply something that smashed into her weaving. It wasn't the delicate, supisticated attack she expected. Her flows weren't blocked or unweaved. Instead her flows were simply smashed. Sending her flows to the taint was hard, she felt how vile the taint was, drawn directly from the Dark One, but with every flows that crushed and dissappeared under the attack, under a pressure that seemed as heavy as the world itself.

"Rand," She called, desperate.

"I know," He said through clentched teeth.

"Do something, then, you wool headed idiot." She shouted on him, "I can't hold this for long." A pain flashed in her head, burning, as she tried to maintain the weave, it felt like trying to lift a mountain with her bare hands.

"I'm doing," He said, calmly! He scanned her weaving, the most complex weave she'd ever used, and he couldn't learn anything from the weave, he had no talent of healing. He did nothing else.

"What are you waiting for? I can't keep it for long!" She shouted, her control of the flows weavered, again, a whole set of them simply vanished. And still Rand did nothing.

Just then, he did, she had no idea what it was, but flows of Fire and Earth and Spirit that found the holes created in her weave, the preasure chease instantly. "What was that?" Elayne asked, her voice trembling visibly.

"Pain," Rand said, obviously satisfied, "He will not try something that rough again."

"But he will also never give up, and you know it as well as the rest of us, Lews Therin!" Halima growled, "You underestimated him before, kinslayer, would you do it again?" Rand paled, but didn't said a word. His fist clenched to fists, his knuckles white.

"Rand," That was Min, and Nynaeve forced herself not to look at the woman in boy's cloths. Concentrate on saidin, you fool! She thought, sweat seemed to pour from every part of her body, she couldn't afford herself losing concentration. "Their is something... vile in this room. Not just this," She pointed at the ever shifting prison that hang in the air above a stone table. "Somehting else, stronger."

"A viewing?" Rand asked, How can he hold all those weaves and don't even sweat? Nynaeve wondered, Rand even looked at Min, and there was no slowing in the rate he wove saidin and saidar.

"No," Min answer immediately, "It's like a feeling. I had something to do with my talent, I don't know what it might mean, just... be careful." Rand grinned reassuringly.

"I've no intention of not being care-" He halt and turned slowly to looked at something, muttering a curse, he seemed to forget everything, the flows he woved into her weaving changed, and changed again, as fast as Rand could weave them. Changing constantly, and, as far as she could see, never returning to the exact same pattern. "Now the game is becoming interesting." Rand said, there was a light of exitement in his eyes. "And there is nothing to match gambling with the Dark One. when the fate of the world." He muttered, it should have been too low to be heard. But with so much of the Power inside her, she couldn't miss a whisper a hunderd miles from her.

She stared at him like she had never seen him before, for ten heartbeats she guide the flow with hunce alone, before she returned her attention to where it was needed. It sounded like nothing he would have ever said.

She continued searching saidin, seperating the taint from the face of the male half of the true source, and her very soul trembled every time her flows touched the taint, it turned her stomach slowly. Her head was pain, luckily, they had prepered from that. "Flinn," She said, pride made her refuse to say the words so far, but she thought she might collapse soon. And her head felt like it had been stabbed.

"At last," The graying Asha'man growled, "You were at the point of collapsing an hour ago." Passing control on a Link, while she still wove the flow, was complicate, delicate.

Almost instantly, her headache began to disappear, she had no need to concetrate on so much flows in the same time, making sure that none would go wrong. Closing her eyes, she let herself feel the power inside her, so much power she thought that she should burst of the ecstasy alone.

Flinn took a deep breath when the control over the link was passed over to him, he wasn't half as sure in himself as he pretended to be. But then again, neither was Nynaeve. He wondered whatever a link was somehow close to bonding. Was this the way it felt when you'd a warder? Emotions so strong, that wasn't his own and was.

Think about it later, if there will be later, he ordered himself. Taking control over saidar felt... uncomfortable. But he watched everything Nynaeve did, and if the few first moment were clumsy, he managed to avoid any disasters. He worked the flows around the ever changing net of protection supplied by Rand. One of the man's hands lied on a seal, touching it lightly. The only sign for tense in him was the way his other hand gripped the male figured.

Flinn saw how threads of saidin burned and died, only to be replaced by others. The Dark One hadn't let go of the attack. But Flinn felt none of it, web of saidin surrounding the flow of saidar he was weaving. It was hard, very hard, to direct the flows into the source he was tapping into. It felt like trying to ride an untrained horse, and saidin was... jumpy. Uneasy to hold. It couldn't take that much longer. Most of the taint was already contained in a prison that never seemed to remain unchange for more than a heartbeat.

Nynaeve had led the link for three hours, while she used saidar to clean the male half of the true source. Flinn had to work for another two hours to finish the task. Throughout that time, the Dark One never cheased once to try to break throught the shield created by the Dragon Reborned. And it wasn't until the cleaning was done, when they all let down his guard when Shait'an succeeded.

"Done!" Flinn exclaimed, smiling tiredly. "Done in perfection." The weave of saidar faded, and Callandor was clear glass alone again.

"Only half done," Rand muttered, but let go or the shield he had no more need to weave. It was as if the Dark One waited for this moment alone, when they were in their greatest weakness, for the final attack. But this time, it wasn't the weaving he was attacking.

Lews Therin was the first who noticed the attack, the Dark One could always be felt near the seals, he always seemed to be hiding behind a thin silk curtain. Now he seemed to flow from the seals, the last three remaining. His destiny, the goal for his attack, wasn't the weave that held the taint, it wasn't even the seals.

Fool, Lews Therin spat, I've warned you! There was no sign of madness in the man. The Dark One always choose the weakest to attack first.

And Rand screamed, a screamed full frustration and fury and pain, when the attack landed home. The Dark One always choose the weakest to attack first.

"IT WILL NOT BE, DRAGON!" A voice that he knew and dread said inside his mind, "ONCE AGAIN, I'LL TAKE YOUR OWN DEED TO CREATE A HORROR NOT FOUND EVEN IN YOUR NIGHTMARES!"

The Dark One always choose the weakest to attack first. His weapons never failed, fear and hate and that ancient dread. The deepest fear one can know, the strongest desires, the most desperate needs.

He killed Ilyena again, hundred times or more. He had gone mad and killed Elayne, Aviendha and Min more times he could count, and enjoyed each death. He took the great sa'angreal and turn it against the world, shattering creation and destroying the wheel itself, in a last pitiful attempt.

He went to Shayol Ghul and found Elayne standing there, or Aviendha, and given a choice he couldn't make.

Hordes of women chased him, he knew every last of the faces, and every name but one. They were led by a tall woman with golden hair like the sun and big blue eyes. She shouted "Why?" Over and Over again, and he had no answers to give her.

He saw the world end, in fire and blood. And all that remains was blood and ashes. Min told his she was carrying his baby, and her face changed to Lanfear's. Aviendha died in birth, and the baby was a snakelike creature in gold and red that tore his way out from his mother's stomach and called him father.

Elayne faced him with accusastion in her eyes, hugging her mother's corpse. He called the dead heroes from the grave and led them to Shayol Ghul, only to find the Dark One's prison broken, Shait'an was free. And one by one the heroes of the horn, those who couldn't die, turned against his and attacked him, disappointment in their eyes, and he accepted every stab or wound gladly, he failed.

I failed! The thought echoed inside his mind. And another one, now I can die! And he knew his failure was his fault alone. That he failed purposely.

The Link trembled as his will wavered, he let go of saidin, or the link. All he wanted to do was to seat down and die.

Logain fixed his eyes on the man that held the bloody hand, and he felt Leane's death inside his mind. Taim laughed when he tried once again to break the shield, and Halima's empty eyes stared at him in accusation. He watched, felt, unable to do anything, Toviene's death.

He was taken to the White Tower to be tried again, and the pain of gentling flashed in him again.

Nynaeve turned her head from him and declared she will study him no further, and he was destined to remain far from the True Source forever, yet always be cursed to feel what he would never draw again.

People faced his, childhood love, the first man he had killed, woman with ageless face, nothing left from her below the waist.

Halima died again, she lived in a body rotten and old for eternity, unable to look at her own face. Logain kissed her, and she saw through the illusation the Darghkar. The Dark One laughed, and Shaidar Haran picked her up easily, eyeless stare sending tendril of fear into her bones when life left her together with breath, but she could care, Logain still screamed, and she felt his pain. And Semirhage laughed echoed in her mind when darkness swallowed her.

She faced Lews Therin, and his punishment for her crimes was beyond imagination. Logain nodded and approved, and the betrayel hurt her more than any punishment.

She was ripped apart from her body, and the Dark One destined her the final death.

Logain betrayed the Light, and handed her to the Dark One. And she walked gladly down the path of broken dagger, to the Pit of Doom.

She looked at Logain, then at Leane's body, and cried.

Toviene walked to her, and the Aes Sedai wept as she put the dagger in her hand. Halima rose the dagger high and stabbed, aiming the heart. And Logain died, and she cried, knowing that the madness left her no choice. But she cried still. There was no hope, and she sent Logain to death, and only she alone knew the true meaning of the word.

Lews Therin told her that he loved her, and Narishma died in flames when Lews Therin kissed her. Ilyena laughed at her, and she stared, unbelievingly, at Narishma and the golden hair woman, a mix on limbs and naked skin and she knew that another man she loved was taken away from her once again.

She became Naebl'is, and walked over Narishma's body to the Pit of Doom.

Mierin was her name again, and Lews Therin married her. And she found no comfort in living with one she loved no more.

She threw a tantrum and Narishma ordered her never to be within eyesight of him. She died again, but it was Narishma's hand that slid the sword through her heart.

Narishma laughed at her, and bent to kiss Ilyena once more. While she was ordered to stay and watch.

Narishma introduced to her his new warder, and she did nothing but smiling at Ilyena.

She died once more, but the last sound she heard was Ilyena's laugh, and a promise that she will marry Narishma.

Elayne cried, and she heard Rand explaining that the only reason he ever loved her was that she looked a little like Ilyena.

Her mother's rotten body faced her when Andor burned from border to border. And the Asha'man killed her own people in their madness. And she knew that they were led by Rand.

She had to choose, between Rand and Andor. And she hesitated for time too long and lost them both.

Egwene ordered her to kill Rand, and she knew that she would, not for Egwene, but for Andor.

She eavesdropped Rand talking with Mat, saying that she truly believed him when he said he loved her, that he only needed her for Andor.

She gave up Andor, to save the life of the man she loved, and walked in a Caemlyn that was full of shadowspawn.

She put a dagger in Rand's heart, crying, and he thanked her while he died.

Andor was whole and safe and stronger than ever, but the price was Rand's life.

Rand had gone mad one day, as it happened sometimes, and killed every last of their children, she was the last to die. And the last memory she took to her death was his smile.

She had to choose between being the Queen of Andor and being Aes Sedai. And between being Aes Sedai and being the woman Rand loved. She had to choose between all three.

Min died, and Aviendha too, and it was all her fault. She slapped Rand's face, and he laughed when he ordered her death.

She was forced to turn to the dark, and smiled when Rand gave up the light for her love. Cried when he didn't.

Narishma woke up and found Mierin in his arms, crying, and he knew he had raped her.

He found her and al'Thor in bed together, and she said she will always love Lews Therin.

She broke the bond and fled to Shayol Ghul. And he met her in hundred battles., saw her leading the shadow to win the world.

She turned away from him, his cheek burned from her slap, and he knew she will never love him again, unless he will force her to. She held a small boy's body, and he saw the accusation in her eyes when she lied their son's corpse on the floor and tried to kill him. He felt her death inside him thousands of times, never once being able to do anything. He died protecting her, and knew it wasn't enough.

He gave up the Light and went with her to Shayol Ghul, and only after the world was doomed he understood what he'd sacrifies for her smiles.

Mierin died in his arms, and her last words were a wish his soul would be rottern.

The bond failed, and he died, death was bitter with the knowing that Mierin wouldn't last much longer after him.

Aviendha knew she had no choice, ji'e'toh left her no other, so she left in the night, never to see Rand again.

She broke ji'e'toh, and became less than nothing, for Rand, who despised her.

She gave Rand to Elayne, and lived to see their grandchilden's grandchildren. And never once during that time Rand looked at her in any other way than he would have looked at Mat or Perrin.

She choosed between her people and her love, and both choices were wrong.

She died, and cursed Rand will last breath.

The Dark One won, and Rand died forever. She cried, and the skies cried with her, there was no stop to the flood of tears inside her.

Rand won, and his face weas full of peace. But the price was his life, and she cried of joy, not of grief.

The Wise Ones ordered Rand's death, and she obeyed. She disobeyed, and watched him being skinned alive by the Wise Ones.

She tried to do something, anything, and had been sold to the myrdraals like a sheep, and had been turned to the dark.

Amys was a shadow runner, a darkfriend, and so was Sorilea, and Rand too, and anyone she knew save herself.

Rand killed her people, and she couldn't forgive him for this, so she left and tried to build the Aiel once more. Only to fail, and the Aiel died, and she never saw Rand again.

Nynaeve knew there was no other choice, so she tied the flows and left Lan where he was. And he lived, but only to hate her.

Malkier was alive once more, and Lan no longer loved her.

Moghedien killed Lan, and forced her to watch. And then it became she who killed Lan, and Moghedien laughed.

Myrelle died, and nothing could save Lan from following her.

Lan died, of old age, and none of her healing could do him any good. And when she looked at the mirror, her face looked the same as when she was twenty.

Pain!

Min couldn't understand what happened, everyone, save she, Birgitte and Lan began to scream, and she felt fear and desperation in Rand. She felt warm tears on her cheeks. But she didn't dare coming to him, she wouldn't be the reason for the failure. Then she threw careness away and ran to Rand. Holding him, begging him to tell her what was wrong. She loved him too much to seat down and do nothing while he suffered.

One of the seals began to hum, to buz, and when she turned her head to look at it, it exploded.

She was thrown against Rand, and both of them flew across the room to hit the wall. His screams stopped the moment the seal explode, and he wrapped his arms around her, protecting her with his own body as they hit the stone wall.

Air whooshed out of her lungs, and Rand grunt was strong enough to wake a sleeping bear.

"Rand," she whispered through lungs that screamed for air, she ignored the need."What happened?"

But he only stared at her. She had the feeling he wasn't aware of what his own eyes told him.

It took another moment, but finally his eyes became clear. "Min!" He gasped, she only began to breath again, but now he squeezed all breath out of her. When he finallyeased his hug, it was only to kiss her. He kissed her like she was the only thing in the world, like he needed the kiss to know that she was alive. That he was alive. He kissed her like nothing else existed.

"Rand!" She said, it was no time for kisses. As much as he, and she, might wish it. "What happened!" He stared at her for a three heartbeat, then scrambled to his feet, as fast as he could. And limped away, toward the table and the two figures on it, muttering curses.

This can not be! It mustn't be! Lews Therin stated at Rand sent his hand to touch the male figure. He had time to weave a shield against the explosion, barely. Most of the power of the explosion was trapped in the shield, but the rest was strong enough to send every one in the room toward the walls. The Dark One silenced the moment saidin left him, the moment there was no longer a trail for the Dark One to follow into his mind. It was a miracle he wasn't destroyed by saidin itself, in those horrible moment of nightmares.

His hand clentched to fist, a hair from the sa'angreal, if he will do this, the Dark One may find his mind again. Burn your soul, coward! He shouted at himself, his jaw hurt from clentching his teeth. He had no other choice, he planned the weaving so it could hold on its on, for a litttle while. But with only two focus point, and as week as they were... If he wouldn't force himself to support the weave, the seals would break, the prison would never hold without focus points. Not to mention that this would set the Dark One free. He used both sides of the power to build this prison. Though he could used saidaronly to... close the gaps in the weave, to make the prison stronger. But if the prison broke, the taint would slide across the flows that caged him, slide back to the True Source. To both sides of the True Source. And the Breaking would be nothing compare to what will happen. Slowly, he lied his hand over the male figure, the seal to his right was humming, about to break, but even this was distant, what can compare to the fear he had felt, even the idea of saidin and saidar tainted both, and no hope to clean either one of them.

He strentched for the source, despite his tiredness, despite everything, the source was life. He couldn't let himself think, he draw the One Power, and draw power from Min, through the warder bond. He didn't had a choice, he needed her courage. Her strenght, to do so. He barely even noticed the sweatness of saidin, that carried no more the vileness of the taint. He was too afraid to do so. Too afraid that the Dark One would be there, waiting for him. And he was.

Saidin had been everything, all he paid his mind to, nothing else exist. It was as if he was trying to form another Void, inside the Void he already been holding. He ignored the voice that could so easily drive him insane. Ignored everything save the weaving. It was like a sword fight, when your legs had rocks tied to them, and you'd to face half a dozen enemies. He needed saidar, but could pay no attention to anything beyond his weaving, even with the sa'angreal, it was hard, and all he could do was to close the hole that open in one place, only to have another rip just next to it. And then a dozen more. He was tired, and he knew it even inside the void, he would soon push the border of his body's strenght. And he couldn't draw much more from Min without harming her. Elayne and Aviendha was as exhausted as he was. He felt it throught the bond, didn't daring to take the chance of looking backward. He sent a tendril of Fire, something any soldier touching the power for the first time could do, it was all he could spare. Sweat shined on his face, his entire awareness was focused in not hearing the Dark One, in ignoring that flood of nightmares. It was hard, the Dark One found his worst fears and showed them to him.

The flow of Fire touched Mierin, it should have been wake her instantly, it awake everything in the body, every sense, like being filled with too much of the One Power. When you thought your entire being might crush under the flow of life, of your own enhanced senses.

She was always stubborn. Lews Therin noted calmly. And the Dark One's whispered horrors were gone. Take care of the taint, dragon. The madman said, sounding entirely sane, maybe the first time Rand ever heard him so sane. There was anger and grief in the voice, but now madness. I will handle the Lord of Grave. Don't fail the world now, you're too important to die now. And my time had ended long ago.

Rand waste no time in answerring, increasing the flow, now he could split his attention, but it still felt like he was dancing the forms with his sword, walking ten miles in air, on a razor edge tinnier than hariwidth. He couldn't stop, changes were the key, he couldn't give the Dark One a fixed pattern to break into, as long as the pattern constantly changed, the Dark One couldn't have the time to figure out how to force him down. He already knew that the creature could smash through any shield, as long as it remain fixed long enough. Even the seals have been broken. The thought was his own, and at the same time, wasn't. Strange, it felt like Lews Therin was merging into him. He could think about this later, now, he needed to wake bloody Mierin.

He began to think she might be dead with her heart beating and lungs breathing. With so much of the power, he could hear blood rushing in viens. Could see the finest detail possible. But it was no time for exultation. He increased the size of the flow again, until its affect could have been easily called a torture.

Mierin moaned, and he let go of the weave, the last thing he needed was that she would faint again from the shock the weave could cause.

"Mierin," He said, quite loudly. Yet she ignored him totally.

The first thing Mierin did upon awakening was mute down screams. She clentched her teeth, trying hard not to sick up. Narishma was five feet from her, he was the first thing she noticed to. Lying on the floor with his face badly bruised. She crawled to him, cursing skirts with every heartbeat. He was still alive, and no badly wounded. Of course, she could feel it in the back of her head, but the first emoitons she felt when she saw him there, maybe death, had nothing to do with logic.

"Mierin!" That was Lews Therin, and with that the horrorizing memories returned. And she bite her lower lip hard, on the point of drawing blood, "Come over here, woman!" Lews Therin shouted, and she was rised to her feet and dragged to him. "I need a link, I can't hold this for long myself." One glance at the parts she saw of the taint's prison sufficed her to understand. She didn't let herself think when she send herself to him, gave him the control of the power that flowed through her. She felt him opening, letting her enter. And then he caught her, and she was no longer in control of saidar. He draw the power through her, through the sa'angreal shaped as a woman with a crystal globe held above her head. Draw more, until she began to fear. It was impossible to be burned out while linked. But it was very possible to die.

"Stop this," She called him, panicked. And her fear became stronger when she felt the Dark One's precense in her mind. Too strong to be ignored, too familiar not to be feared. Lews Therin face were twisted in a strange combination of anger and determination. And the flows he wove shaped and reshaped so fast that she couldn't really catch more than glimps of what he was doing. Men were often slower than women when it came to using the power. It had to do with men usually using far more power than women did. The power obeyed the same rules the rest of the world did. The bigger amount of saidin or saidar you wanted to use, the slower you'd to build it. But Lews Therin wove the flows, hundreds of thousands of them, in a rate that she so far knew with women only. She could see that it costed him, glancing over him, she noted Min. She leaned against the wall, looking like she had just ran twenty miles inside an oven. He was drawing the woman's strenght, so. It explaned few things.

"What are you doing?" She asked, the Dark One whispered threats in the distance, but she managed to mute it. Part of it, at least, she had to delay cracking under the pressure until later. It took all the self control she could master, though.

"Patching," He answered through clenched teeth. "The original plan is useless now, I will have to improvize." She could hear him grinding his teeth."I seemed to be good at this." He added before he fell silent again.

The original plan was to destroyed the taint, Lews Therin was sure he could do this, somehow. Mierin didn't believe they would reach this point, and all she knew about the method Lews Therin describe was that it would required a circle of at least twenty men and women. What he's planning to do now? She thought, and then, do I really want to know?

"I WILL SAVOR THE SOUND OF YOUR SCREAMS FOR ALL ETERNITY, CYNDANE. YOU'D YOUR LASTAND ONLY CHANCE." The Dark One whispered, his voice being carried through the flows that connected her to the prison that caged the taint, to the seals, and through them, to the creature she once called master.

"All he could do is talk," Lews Therin said, "Ignore him, I'm blockinganything else he might be able to do. And he'll only become stronger the more attention you'll pay to him."

"How could you not pay attention to him, you fool." She shouted on him, it felt great, releasing her emotions. "Or have you forgotten what happened before? You can't ignore the Dark One."

The flows changed, the web of saidin and saidar reformed itself in another fashion. A weave she herself discovered, something to be dread of. "Have you gone mad again, Lews Therin?" She screamed at him, terrored.

He didn't answered, and she tried to break the link, useless, of course. When he held the control of the Link, but still, she had to do something. The Dark One's whispered muted. The most fitting place to use this weave was inside Shayol Ghul, in the Pit of Doom. Where the Dark One's prison was easiest to access, when the pattern became thin, and the world became a little like tel'aran'rhiod. But with enough of the One Power, you could this weave anywhere in the world. In Shayol Ghul or in Tar Valon the Dark One prison was in the same distance. And Lews Therin certainly held enough of the One Power to rip open entirly the Dark One's prison. She remembered all too well the day when she used that weave, and ripped open the bore inside the Dark One's prison, the day the Sharom died. And the day where the Age of Legends, as they rightly named her age, began its slow death.

She saw a tendril of blood on Lews Therin's face, he bite his lower lip strong enough to draw blood. And his eyes were savage. She couldn't free herself from the link, despite her efforts. Lews Therin leashed out with the power, like a sword, a spear made of saidin and saidar. Once she thought that the weave must be the most beautiful thing inthe world save Lews Therin. Now, she wanted to sick up just looking at it. The Dark One's prison surrendered without the slightest resistance. It was a sign to its weakness. In the Age of Legends, she and Beidomon searched for hours for the weakest spot to break through.There should have been some resistance, even with so much power involved.

Lews Therin paused, the Dark One was still there, but he only watched, his attacks ceased totally. Yet Lews Therin continued to dedicate half of the power both sa'angreal could weave into a shield. Lews Therin smiled, "Have a taste of your own medicine for a change, Shait'an." He said, and the prison that hang in the air above them began to change, it was no more a closed cube, or a circle, or whatever it truly was, it altered with every breath she took. Now, it began to shape into a long bar. About ten feet long, three feet wide and two deep, shining in every color possible. When he would tie the weave, it would dissappear into whatever exist outside the pattern, but he couldn't tie it. The only focus points available were the last three seals. And they couldn't hold both the patch on the Dark One's prison and the prison created for the taint for long. One of them already shattered.

Just then, the Dark One attacked again, there was no warning, and no reason for the attack. Mierin stambled backward, the shield placed in order to protected them was teared to shreds. At the moment, there was nothing in the world save her, Lews Therin, the One Power that pulsed inside there bodies, the Dark One, and of course, Narishma's bond in the back of her mind.

Lews Thein was on his knees, struggling to keep this stand at least, weaves of saidar and saidin flashed in the air, only to be torn apart by something she couldn't see nor feel. "He knows!" Lews Therin growled, "There is no way he could have guessed, but he knows!"

He rose to his feet, supporting himself with the table. He looked like a man six days dead. "Burn you, Shait'an! I will not have you destroying everything again!" He wove three flows only now, Air with saidar, Fire with saidin, and Spirit using both halves of the True Source. It wasn't a weave she ever saw before. He didn't bothered to be sopisticated. All the strenght of the two sa'angreals, enough power to break the world. With all the power he could master, he sent the taint through the bore he had opened inside the Dark One prison, send the tiny prison into the older one, the prison created by the Creator in the momeny of creation. A single weaving, a child the age of fifteen could weave this. With all the strenght of the Creator.

Birgitte rub a bruised leg and glanced at Rand from where she knelt near Elayne. Her Aes Sedai would be fine. It was the world she was worried about. Despite her words to Min,she couldn't help fearing. Sooner or later I'll fail, Lews Therin said once, after a battle he had lost in, and all fail with me.

Considerring that the man was born again and again to be the superior leader of the Light in endless battle, he showed healthy distaste of fighting. A man that enjoy the battles worthly only to be in the front of the charging army. A general has to battles as much as he had to believe in his cause, battles are never a reason to be happy. And only a battle lost is sadder than a battle won. Lews Therin's words, after Sammael, who was then still Tel Janin, prided himself in winning a battle without the slightest hope. Tel Janin forsook the Light the next battle, and brought disaster that caused Lews Therin to show one of his rare tempers. Birgitte took one look in Rand's face and decided that whatever he felt that day when Sammael led the shadow into Rorn M'doi was nothing to what he was now. And Lews Therin cut a way into the middle of the Shasow's army that day, pass two or three dozens lines of defence to give Sammael the scar that the man accepted as a sign of honor.

He was barely standing, holding himself erect only becuase he held to the table. His handwas clutched tightly around the statue of the bearded man. By the look of his face, he was ready to walk into a stone wall and leave a very big hole. That... thing above his head began to spin, changing color but keeping it shape. Elayne opened her eyes and muttered something in a small voice. Sometimes it was all too easy to forget that she wasn't even twenty years old.

"Rand!" She called, trying to seat down, Birgiite could feel the pain in her Aes Sedai, pain cause both from aching body and aching heart.

"It done!" Lanfear laughed, and as she turned her head to them, she saw Rand and Lanfear - she will not call the woman Mierin! - both of them looking as bad as Elayne felt. There was no sign of the taint, or its cage, and she could see weaves of saidar fading, wrapping around the male half of the True Source, invisible to her now, that she wasn't a part of a link with a man.

Saidin had been cleaned! They have mad it! "And so it's end." Elayne whispered weakly. Her entire body ached, and she wanted to cry when she remembered. But it was done.

Somehow, despite her whisperring, Rand have heard her, he looked at her, there was a bruise on his left cheek, and trails of blood on his chin. Sweat dampened his clothes, he should have felt... something. But all she could see in his face, feel inside him, was tiredness. "No, Elayne," He said, quite loudly, "It doesn't end here. Today, it'd only began."

Three days later, the little spy had returned. As much good as it did. Apparently, Lews Therin was able to effectively elude pinpointing. The man said that Lews Therin had been seen both in Andor and Cairhein itself, Illian and several other places. This was help, and Ilyena flew into an icy temper, eyes blazing as she dismissed the man without pay. Der grew more concerned for her behaviour, warning her about the consequences of such actions. Ilyena ignored the man. Therewas one thing that she could try, but it was so dangerous that she had not been willing to even think about it, up until this point. But she needed to find him. She could feel time running... feel it's flow. Running short, something was about to happen, and she needed to be near Lews Therin.

"What are you doing?" Der asked her as she stopped her horse. Though her control on the beast was far from perfect, she was getting better, due to rides through the city and practice sessions. They - Ilyena and Halec, Der and his horse, Moonstalker - were outside the city, on one of the hills surrounding the capital. Der had agreed togo on a journey with Ilyena, though why she did not know. She was becoming suspicious about Der Cal, but if he was a danger, best to keep him at her side, rather than have him running free.Ilyena had left the city, in order to keep a clear head, something which nature could afford her better than the babble of thousands of people.

"I am concentrating, man," she hissed, "Silence." Der, thankfully, shut up, though he studied her closely. Ilyena reached in herself, searching for the memory of his essence, capturing it with her mind. Wrapping the memory with the Source, she tried to recall the exact nature of the weave. It seemed strangely difficult, though why she did not know. Perhaps it was simply that she had not wanted to remember this. You had to know something very well indeed to use it, down to their very soul. You had to be willing to risk harming them, to risk harming yourself. These conditions stopped the weave from being used by most enemies and those who would capture to use a being, thankfully. But there... the weave was complete. One of the side affects of the weave was eternal hate, the weave tried to rip your own soul, and the soul of the one you've been searching for, rip it apart and join it together.

She exhaled slowly. A female had created this weave, and there had never been a found manner in which to convert it to saidin for male use, which relieved Ilyena. There were those who were male and knew Lews Therin very well indeed, knew his very soul and would not care should he hate them, who would be all too eager to use this, despite the dangers. Quickly, she sent the weave snapping through the fabric of the Pattern. It did not pierce, but weave itself, searching, like a viperous snake. A hundred miles, a toudsand, more. He was far from Cairhien.

And then, she screamed. Pain! And she weakened the weave, to almost nonexistence, Lews Therin might have felt it, but she doubt it. This weave was rarely felt by the one you were searching for until it was too late. The woman who held the weave, however, suffered much, from the moment the other soul was found.

It was not compulsion by any means, but this weave was... different. It found a beinganywhere, and led a trail to them, but it connected to the souls of both user and target, trying to rip both souls from their bodies whilst they still lived and thus leading the path by pain, tried to join those soul together. The weave had been forbidden by the Hall, but Ilyena doubted the make it had survived the Breaking. The Hall existed no longer, and she very much doubted that the so-called White Tower would known of it. She was bound by no one's rules.

Save for the agony that rumbled on that weave. But she knew... it was Lews Therin! Even in such a horrible circumstance, it was him. She knew it. He truly did live. Ilyena sobbed as the tugging on her spirit grew strong. Der Cal was at her side, frowning with extreme worry.

"Are you okay, Ilyena Sedai? Ilyena!?"

"I am fine," she whispered around her pain. "Let us being going."

"Where are we going?"

"To him. To my love, my killer," she whispered, lips drawn back in agony. "We're going to him. The man who murdered me, my chilren, and any man or woman who he loved or who love him."

The man's eyes flickered in shock and incomprehension, but she allowed for no questions. Resisting the agony of the weave, she slowly wove another. This one was simple enough, skimming, and she had brought them to the place where she had spent her time attempting to make Halec move. She knew it enough to make a gateway for Traveling. The weaving was slow and painful.

She'd only ever known one woman who had used the weave, and the sensations it evoked were too painful to describe. The woman had not even tried, simply shrugging off Ilyena's questions, and telling her that the only way to know it was to do it, and Light send that Ilyena never had to. Well, now she had to. The pull led her on blindly. She did not know where the gate went to. It was confusing and terrifying. The gate, though, opened, leading into a corridor in which conversation could be heard echoing from another room. The corridor seemed to be formed of natural rock polished to a high sheen and smoothness that could only have been done with the One Power. She released the weave the connected her to Lews Therin immediatly, and the pain began to disappeared almost immediatly. Fading slowly, very slowly.

"Move!" Ilyena hissed to Der, reaching to gesture painfully to the man.

He did not need to be told twice. The puzzlement and horror on his face spke volumes, but he moved in through the gate on Moonstalker. Ilyena followed on Halec, stumbling through into the corridor. The gate rushed closed behind her She slid off of her horse, and stumbled forward. Der moved as though to stop her, but she shook him off and stumbled forward, passed through a door into a room filled with people feasting.

Where is he? her eyes searched with desperate urgency, but of course they wouldn't find him, he would look different in another life. And then her eyes met the hard blue-grey stare of a tall man with dark red hair. And she knew, no matter what he looked like outwardly. His soul shone through, she knew him, in every body he could have, he was still the man she had married and loved.

"I've found you!" she whispered in an agony so clear it was as though she werestill harboring that soul wreaching weave. "I've found you, and what am I going to do about it?" that was spoke to herself, as she found her body pitching to it's knees, and the blackness of exhaustion and relieved pain overcoming her. The last word she heard was a sudden speaking in the hush that had descended upon the room.

"Ilyena!" He remembered her.

Barid Bel Medar, Alanna Sedai, Selinthia Avenchesca