To Be Forged Again
After crossing the bridge to Tar Valon as a victor, the day nearly became a blur for Egwene. She hastened to the White Tower, Siuan and Gawyn barely managing to keep up with her. At the Tower, Egwene was met by a group of servants; the Sitters themselves were waiting in the Hall for Egwene.
The servants led her to an unadorned, wood-paneled chamber set with a pair of leather-padded chairs. Egwene had never been here before; it appeared to be a kind of waiting room near the Hall. It smelled of leather, and a small brazier burned coals in the corner.
Soon, a short, toadlike Brown sister named Lairain entered and instructed Egwene on the proper way to go about the ceremony. The little curly-haired woman seemed completely indifferent to the importance of the moment, and Egwene had never met her before. Likely, she was one of the Browns who spent her life roaming the back library stacks, and only surfaced once a century or so to recite instructions to prospective Amyrlins. Egwene listened carefully; she’d gone through the ceremony once, but it was very complex.
She could still remember her nervousness on that day, months ago, when she’d been raised in Salidar. Back then, she’d still been confused as to what was happening. Her? Amyrlin?
That hesitation was gone. She did not really worry about getting the ceremony wrong. It was only a ceremony, and the important decision had already been made. As Egwene listened to Lairain, she heard Siuan arguing outside the doors with one of the sisters, claiming that Egwene had already been raised, and that this ceremony wasn’t needed. Egwene quieted Lairain with a raised hand and called out to Siuan.
Siuan peeked in the door.
“I was raised by the rebels, Siuan,” Egwene said sternly. “These women deserve the chance to stand for me as well. Otherwise, I will never have a claim to their loyalty. The ceremony must be performed again.”
Siuan scowled, but nodded. “Very well.”
Lairain opened her mouth to continue instructions, but Egwene silenced her with another motion, earning a huff. “What news have you, Siuan?”
“Well,” Siuan said, cracking the door a little wider, “Bryne moved most of his troops across the bridges, and has relieved the Tower Guard from their positions at the fortifications, sending them in—along with a number of his own squads—to help put out flareups around the city. The Seanchan set some homes on fire to cover their retreat as they fled.”
That explained the lack of troops at the barricade—that, along with the knowledge that the Hall was busy debating whether or not to raise Egwene. They likely didn’t realize how close they’d come to war.
“What do you want to do with the sisters from your camp?” Siuan asked. “They’re starting to wonder.”
“Tell them to gather in front of the Sunset Gate,” Egwene said. “Have them stand in ranks by Ajah, with Sitters in a line at the front. Once I am finished with the ceremony, I will greet them and formally accept their apology for their rebellion and welcome them back into the Tower.”
“Accept their apology?” Siuan asked incredulously.
“They rebelled against the Tower, Siuan,” Egwene said, looking at her. “Whatever the need of what they did, there is reason for apology.”
“But you were with them!”
“I no longer represent just them, Siuan,” Egwene said firmly. “I represent the Tower. The entire Tower. And the Tower needs to know that the rebels regret the division. They needn’t lie and say that they wished they had stayed, but I think it is appropriate for them to express sorrow over the hardships the division caused. I will acquit them, and we can get on with healing.”
“Yes, Mother,” Siuan said in resignation. Egwene caught sight of Tesan standing behind, the woman nodding her Taraboner-braided head at Egwene’s words.
Egwene let Lairain continue her instructions, then repeated back to her the lines she would have to say and the actions she’d have to take. When the Brown was satisfied, Egwene rose, pulled open the door and found that Siuan had left to relay her orders. Tesan stood in the hallway outside, arms folded, regarding Gawyn. He leaned against the wall a short distance away, his hand resting on the pommel of his sheathed sword.
“Your Warder?” Tesan asked of Egwene.
She regarded Gawyn, and was forced to confront a whole mess of emotions. Anger, affection, passion and regret. What a strange mix. “No,” she said. She stared Gawyn in the eyes. “What I am going to do next you cannot be part of, Gawyn. Wait here.”
He opened his mouth to object, thought better of it, then stood up stiffly and bowed. That gesture felt even more insolent than an argument would have.
Egwene sniffed softly—yet loud enough for him to hear—then allowed Tesan to lead her to the Hall of the Tower. The Hall: both a place and a group of people. For they were one, just as the Amyrlin Seat was a person, yet was also the chair in which she sat.
She stopped before the doors to the Hall, the dark wood inlaid with the silver Flame of Tar Valon, and felt her heart flutter rebelliously. Siuan suddenly appeared, with a pair of slippers, gesturing at Egwene’s riding boots. Of course; the Hall floor was delicately painted. She changed into the slippers; Siuan took her boots away. There was no need to be nervous! I’ve been here before, she thought suddenly. Not just in Salidar. In my testing. I’ve faced this door, confronted the women beyond. In my testing . . .
A gong suddenly sounded; it seemed loud enough to shake the entire Tower, ringing to warn that an Amyrlin was about to be raised. The gong rang again, then again, and those ornate doors swung open. Yes, this was a different experience entirely from the one she’d had back in that humble wooden building where she’d been raised by the Salidar Aes Sedai. In many ways, her performance in Salidar had been but a rehearsal.
The doors finished opening, and Egwene stifled a gasp. The grand, domed room beyond now had a blasted hole—a gaping emptiness—directly across from the entrance. It looked out at Dragonmount. The chamber wasn’t as damaged as some had been in the Seanchan attack; the rubble was minimal, and the destruction had barely reached past that outer wall. The raised platform still ran around the outside of the room, and the chairs it held were undamaged. Eighteen of them, in clusters of three, each painted and cushioned to declare the Ajah of its inhabitant.
The Amyrlin Seat stood by the far wall, directly in front of the broken wall, its back to the sprawling landscape beyond and distant Dragonmount. If the Seanchan blast had gone a few feet farther inward, the Seat would have been destroyed. Thank the Light, it was unmarred.
Egwene could faintly smell paint in the air. Had they hurriedly had the Seat repainted to bear all seven colors again? If so, they’d worked quickly. They hadn’t had time to replace the seats of the Blue Sitters, however.
Egwene noted Saerin, Doesine and Yukiri sitting with their respective Ajahs. Seaine was there as well, regarding Egwene with those calculating blue eyes. How much power had these four women wielded in these events? Square-faced Suana, of the Yellow, was smiling openly in satisfaction as she regarded Egwene, and while most of the faces bore the serene, unemotional faces of Aes Sedai, Egwene sensed approval in their postures. Or, at least, a lack of hostility. More than just the Black Ajah hunters had been behind this decision.
Saerin stood up from her chair in the Brown section. “Who comes before the Hall of the Tower?” she asked in a ringing voice.
Egwene hesitated, still looking over the Sitters, their seats arranged around the outer platform, equally spaced. Too many of those chairs were empty. There were only two Green Sitters; Talene had fled weeks ago. The Gray were missing Evanellein, who had vanished earlier in the day. Velina and Sedore were gone as well. That didn’t bode well; those two were on Verin’s list of Black Ajah. Had they been warned? Did Evanellein’s disappearance mean Verin had missed her?
There were no Red sisters either. With a start, Egwene remembered that Duhara had left the Tower some weeks before—nobody knew why, but some said it had been on a mission for Elaida. Perhaps she was about Black Ajah
business. The other two red Sitters, Javindhra and Pevara, had vanished mysteriously.
That left eleven Sitters. Not enough to raise an Amyrlin by the old laws of the Tower—but those had been revised with Elaida’s disbanding of the Blue. Fewer Sitters meant fewer women needed to raise an Amyrlin, and now only eleven were required. It would have to do. At least each and every Sitter currently in the Tower knew of this event; it wasn’t in secret, like Elaida’s raising. And Egwene could be reasonably certain no Black Sitters would stand for her.
Saerin cleared her throat, glancing at Egwene uncertainly, and called again, “Who comes before the Hall of the Tower?”
Tesan leaned in from the side, as if to hiss the proper response to Egwene. Egwene, however, cut her off by holding up a hand.
There was something Egwene had been considering, something audacious. Yet it was appropriate. She knew that it was. She could feel that it was. “The Red Ajah is in disgrace?” she asked quietly of Tesan.
The White nodded, braided hair brushing the sides of her face. “The Reds, you needn’t worry about them,” she said in her light Taraboner accent. “Following Elaida’s disappearance, they retreated back to their quarters. The Sitters here, they worried that the Red would choose new Sitters quickly and send them to this proceeding. I believe some . . . curt missives from the Hall of the Tower were enough to cow them.”
“And Silviana Brehon? Still imprisoned?”
“She is, as far as I know, Mother,” Tesan said, slipping for a moment and using the title, though Egwene hadn’t been formally raised by the Hall yet. “Don’t worry, Leane—she has been freed. We had her escorted out to stand with the other rebels, awaiting your forgiveness.”
Egwene nodded thoughtfully. “Have Silviana brought here, to the Hall of the Tower, immediately.”
Tesan’s brow wrinkled. “Mother, I don’t think this is the time—”
“Just do it,” Egwene hissed, then turned to face the Hall. “One who comes obediently, in the Light,” she pronounced in a firm voice.
Saerin relaxed. “Who comes before the Hall of the Tower?”
“One who comes humbly, in the Light,” Egwene responded. She stared at each of the Sitters. A firm hand. She would have to be firm. They needed leadership.
“Who comes before the Hall of the Tower?” Saerin finished.
“One who comes at the summons of the Hall,” Egwene said, “obedient and humble in the Light, asking only to accept the will of the Hall.”
The ceremony proceeded, each of the Sitters stripping to the waist to prove she was a woman. Egwene did the same, and barely gave a blush at the thought of Gawyn, who had clearly thought she should bring him along to the event.
“Who stands for this woman?” Saerin asked after the Sitters had re-dressed. Egwene had to remain stripped to the waist for now, and the cool breeze through the broken wall was chill on her skin. “And pledges for her, heart for heart, soul for soul, life for life?”
Yukiri, Seaine and Suana stood quickly. “I so pledge,” each of them announced.
The first time Egwene had experienced this ceremony, she had been in shock. At each step, she’d been terrified she’d make an error. Worse, she’d been terrified that it would all turn out to be a ruse or a mistake.
That fear was gone. As the ritual questions were asked—as Egwene stepped forward three steps and knelt on the smooth floor, repainted by Elaida’s order with only six colors spiraling out of the mark of the Flame of Tar Valon—Egwene saw through the pomp and looked at the core of what was happening. These women were terrified. As had been the women in Salidar. The Amyrlin Seat was a force of stability, and they reached for it.
Why had she been chosen? Both times, it seemed the same answer. Because she was the only one they could all agree upon. There were smiling faces in this group. But they were the smiles of women who had succeeded in keeping rivals off of the Seat. Either that, or they were the smiles of women who were relieved that someone was stepping up to take leadership. And, perhaps, there were some who smiled because they weren’t the ones who had to take the Seat. Its recent history had been fraught with danger, dissension, and two dramatic tragedies.
Originally, in Salidar, Egwene had thought the women were being idiots. She was more experienced now, and hopefully wiser as well. She could see that they hadn’t been fools. They’d been Aes Sedai—covering their fear by being overly cautious, yet brazen at the same time. Choosing someone they wouldn’t mind seeing fall. Taking a risk, but not putting themselves in direct danger.
These women were doing the same. They covered their fear with smooth faces and acts of control. When the time came for the Sitters to stand in her support, Egwene was not surprised that all eleven rose to their feet. Not a single dissent. There would be no foot washing during this ceremony.
No, she was not surprised. They knew that there was no other option, not with an army on their doorstep, not with Elaida as good as dead. The Aes Sedai thing to do was act as if there had never been any argument. The consensus must be reached.
Saerin looked surprised that nobody had chosen to remain seated, if only to prove that she would not be bullied. In fact, more than one of the Sitters seemed surprised, and Egwene suspected that they were regretting their decision to stand up so quickly. One could gain some measure of power by being the only person who remained seated, forcing Egwene to wash her feet and ask for permission to serve. Of course, that also could have singled the woman out, and earned her the dislike of the new Amyrlin.
The women slowly took their seats. Egwene needed no guidance, and none was offered. She rose and strode across the hall, her slippered feet silent on the painted stone of the Flame. A gust of wind blew through the room, ruffling shawls, blowing across Egwene’s bare skin. It said something for the strength of the Hall that they had chosen to meet here, despite the dizzying view out of the far wall.
Saerin met Egwene at the Seat. The olive-skinned Altaran began to button Egwene’s bodice with careful fingers, then reverently lifted the Amyrlin’s stole from the Seat. It was the one with all seven colors, recovered from wherever Elaida had discarded it. Saerin regarded Egwene for a moment, hefting the stole, as if judging it.
“Are you certain you want to bear this weight, child?” Saerin asked in a very soft voice. This was not part of the ceremony.
“I bear it already, Saerin.” Egwene’s reply was almost a whisper. “Elaida cast it aside when she tried to slice it and divide it as she wished. I took it up and have carried it since. I would bear it to my death. And will.”
Saerin nodded. “I think that might be why you deserve it,” she said. “I doubt anything in the histories will compare to the days ahead. I suspect that, in the future, scholars will look back on our days and judge them to be more difficult—more trying of mind, body and soul—than the Time of Madness or the Breaking itself.”
“Then it’s a good thing the world has us, isn’t it?” Egwene asked.
Saerin hesitated, then nodded. “I suppose it is at that.” She raised the stole and set it upon Egwene’s shoulders. “You are raised to the Amyrlin Seat!” she declared, the voices of the other Sitters joining in, “In the glory of the Light, that the White Tower may endure forever. Egwene al’Vere, the Watcher of the Seals, the Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat!”
Egwene turned to regard the group of women, then sat down in the chair. She felt as if she had returned home after a very long journey. The world bowed beneath the stress of the Dark One’s touch, but it felt a little more right—a little more secure—the moment she took her place.
The women arranged themselves before her in order of age, with Saerin at the very end. One at a time they curtsied deeply before her, asked her permission to serve, then kissed her Great Serpent ring and stepped aside. As they did so, Egwene noticed that Tesan had finally returned. She peeked in to be certain everyone was dressed, then returned a moment later leading a group of four guards with the Flame of Tar Valon burning white on their chests. Egwen
e suppressed a sigh. They’d brought Silviana in chains, it appeared.
After kissing her ring, the Sitters returned to their chairs. There was some little more to the ceremony, but the important part was through with. Egwene was Amyrlin, really and truly, at long last. She had waited so long for this moment.
Now it was time for some surprises.
“Release the prisoner’s chains,” Egwene said.
Reluctantly, the soldiers outside the room did as demanded, the metal clinking. The Sitters turned with confused expressions.
“Silviana Brehon!” Egwene declared, standing up. “You may approach the Amyrlin Seat.”
The soldiers stepped aside and allowed Silviana to enter. Her red dress had once been fine, but she had not been well treated by Elaida’s confinement. Her black hair—normally kept in a bun—was instead coarsely braided. Her dress was rumpled, the knees dirty. And yet her square face was serene.
Surprisingly, she knelt before Egwene after walking across the room. Egwene lowered her hand and let the woman kiss her ring.
The Sitters watched, confused that Egwene had broken the ceremony. “Mother,” Yukiri finally asked. “Is this the best time to be dispensing judgment?”
Egwene withdrew her hand from the kneeling Silviana and looked directly at Yukiri, then turned her gaze across the waiting Sitters. “You all bear a great deal of shame,” she said.
Stiff-faced Aes Sedai raised eyebrows and opened eyes wider. They seemed angry. They had no right! Their anger was nothing beside hers.
“This,” Egwene said, gesturing toward the broken wall. “You bear responsibility for this.” She pointed at Silviana, still kneeling. “You bear responsibility for this. You bear responsibility for the way our sisters regard one another in the halls, and you bear responsibility for letting the Tower remain so long in division. Many of you bear responsibility for that division on the first place!
“You are a disgrace. The White Tower—the pride of the Light, the power for stability and truth since the Age of Legends—has nearly been shattered because of you.”