Towers of Midnight

  She owed much to Dyelin, who seemed to have taken it upon hetself to act as a sutrogate mother to Elayne. A voice of experience and wisdom. But eventually, Dyelin would have to take a few steps back. Neither of them could afford to encourage the notion that Dyelin was the real power behind the throne.

  But Light! What would she have done without the woman? Elayne had to steel herself against the sudden surge of feeling. Blood and bloody ashes, when was she going to get over these mood swings? A queen couldn't afford to be seen crying on a whim!

  Elayne dabbed her eyes. Dyelin wisely said nothing.

  "This will be for the best," Elayne said firmly, to distract attention from her treacherous eyes. "I'm still worried about the invasion."

  Dyelin said nothing to that. She didn't believe that Chesmal had been talking of a specific invasion of Andor; she thought that the Black sister had been speaking of the Trolloc invasion of the Borderlands. Birgitte took the news more seriously, beefing up soldiers on the Andoran borders. Still, Egwene would very much like to have control of Cairhien; if Trollocs were to march on Andor, through her sister realm would be one of the avenues they might use.

  Before the conversation could go further, the door to the hallway opened, and Elayne would have jumped in alarm had she not felt that it was Birgitte. The Warder never knocked. She strode in, wearing a sword reluctantly and her knee-high black boots over trousers. Oddly, she was followed by two cloaked figures, their faces hidden by hoods. Norry stepped back, raising a hand to his breast at the irregularity of it. Everyone knew that Elayne didn't like to see visitors in the small sitting room. If Birgitte was bringing people here. . . .

  "Mat?" Elayne guessed.

  "Hardly," a familiar voice said, firm and clear. The larger of the figures lowered his hood, revealing a perfectly beautiful masculine face. He had a square jaw and a set of focused eyes that Elayne remembered well from her childhood mostly when he had noticed her doing something wrong.

  "Galad," Elayne said, surprised at the warmth she felt for her half-brother. She rose, holding out her hands toward him. She'd spent most of their childhood frustrated with him for one reason or another, but it was good to see him alive and well. "Where have you been?"

  "I have been seeking truth," Galad said bowing with an expert bow, but he did not approach to take her hands. He rose and glanced to the side. "I found that which I did not expect. Steel yourself, sister."

  Elayne frowned as the second, shorter figure lowered her hood. Elayne's mother.

  Elayne gasped. It was her! That face, that golden hair. Those eyes that had so often looked at Elayne as a child, judging her, measuring her -not merely as a parent measured her daughter, but as a queen measured her successor. Elayne felt her heart beating in her chest. Her mother. Her mother was alive.

  Morgase was alive. The Queen still lived.

  Morgase locked eyes with Elayne, then oddly Morgase looked down. "Your Majesty," she said with a curtsy, still remaining beside the door.

  Elayne controlled her thoughts, controlled her panic. She was Queen, or she would have been Queen, or . . . Light! She'd taken the throne, and she was at least the Daughtet-Heir. But now her own mother came back from the bloody dead?

  "Please, sit," Elayne found herself saying, gesturing Morgase toward the seat beside Dyelin. It did Elayne good to see that Dyelin wasn't dealing with the shock any better than Elayne. She sat with her hand gripping her cup of tea, knuckles white, eyes bulging.

  "Thank you, Your Majesty," Motgase said, walking forward, Galad joining her and resting a hand on Elayne's shoulder in a comforting way. He then fetched himself a seat from the other side of the room.

  Morgase's tone was more reserved than Elayne temembered. And why did she continue to call Elayne that title? The Queen had come in secret, with hood drawn. Elayne regarded her mothet, putting the pieces together as she sat. "You renounced the throne, didn't you?"

  Morgase gave a stately nod.

  "Oh, thank the Light," Dyelin said, letting out a loud breath, hand raised to her breast. "No offense, Morgase. But for a moment there, I imagined a war between Trakand and Trakand!"

  "It wouldn't have come to that," Elayne said, virtually at the same time that her mother said something similar. Their eyes met, and Elayne allowed herself to smile. "We would have found a . . reasonable accommodation. This will do, though I certainly wonder at the circumstances of the event."

  "I was being held by the Children of the Light, Elayne," Morgase said. "Old Pedron Niall was a gentleman in most tespects, but his successor was not. I would not let myself be used against Andor."

  "Bloody Whitecloaks," Elayne muttered under her breath. Light, they'd actually been telling the truth when they'd wtitten, claiming to have Morgase in theit possession?

  Galad eyed her, raising an eyebrow. He placed the chair he'd brought over, then undid his cloak, revealing the brilliant white uniform underneath, with the sunburst on the breast.

  "Oh, that's right" Elayne said, exasperated. "I almost forgot that. Intentionally."

  "The Children had answers, Elayne," he said, sitting. Light, but he was frustrating. It was good to see him, but he was frustrating!

  "I don't wish to discuss it," Elayne said. "How many Whitecloaks have come with you?"

  "The entire force of Children accompanied me to Andor," Galad said. "I am their Lord Captain Commander."

  Elayne blinked, then glanced at Morgase. The elder Trakand nodded. "Well," Elayne said, "I see we have much to catch up on."

  Galad took that as a request he could be very literal and began explaining how he'd come by his station. He was quite detailed about it, and Elayne occasionally glanced at her mother. Morgase's expression was unreadable.

  Once Galad was done, he asked after the Succession war. Conversing with Galad was often like this: an exchange, more formal than familiar. Once, it had frustrated her, but this time she found that against her better wishes she'd actually been missing him. So she listened with fondness.

  Eventually, the conversation wound down. There was more to talk about with him, but Elayne was dying for a chance to speak just with her mother. "Galad," Elayne said, "I'd like to talk further. Would you be amenable to an early dinner this evening? You may take refreshment in your old quarters until then."

  He nodded, standing. "That would be well."

  "Dyelin, Master Norry," Elayne said. "My mother's survival will lead to some . . . delicate issues of state. We will need to publish her abdication officially, and quickly. Master Norry, I'll leave the formal document to you. Dyelin, please inform my closest allies of this news so that they will not be taken by surprise."

  Dyelin nodded. She glanced at Morgase Dyelin wasn't one of those whom the former Queen had embarrassed during the days of Rahvin's influence, but she had undoubtedly heard the stories. Then Dyelin withdrew with Galad and Master Norry. Morgase glanced at Birgitte as soon as the door closed; the Warder was the only other one in the room.

  "I trust her like a sister, Mother," Elayne said. "An insufferable older sister, sometimes, but a sister nonetheless."

  Morgase smiled, then rose and took Elayne by the hands, pulling her up into an embrace. "Ah, my daughter," she said, tears in her eyes. "Look at what you've done! Queen in your own right!"

  "You trained me well, Mother," Elayne said. She pulled back. "And you're a grandmother! Or soon will be!"

  Morgase frowned, looking down at her. "Yes, I thought as much from looking at you. Who ... ?"

  "Rand," Elayne said, blushing, "though it's not widely known, and I'd rather it stay that way."

  "Rand al'Thor . . ." Morgase said, her mood darkening. "That- "

  "Mother," Elayne said, raising a hand to grasp hers. "He's a good man, and I love him. What you have heard is exaggeration or bitter rumor."

  "But he's . . . Elayne, a man who can channel, the Dragon Reborn!"

  "And still a man," Elayne said, feeling his knot of emotions in the back of her mind, so warm. "Just a man, for all that is de
manded of him."

  Morgase drew her lips into a thin line. "I shall withhold judgment. Though in a way I still feel that I should have thrown that boy in the Palace dungeons the moment we found him skulking in the gardens. I didn't like how he looked at you even then, mind you."

  Elayne smiled, then gestured back to the seats. Morgase sat, and this time Elayne took the seat directly beside her, still clutching her mother's hands. She sensed amusement from Birgitte, who stood with her back against the far wall, one knee bent so that the sole of her boot rested against the wood paneling.

  "What?" Elayne asked.

  "Nothing," Birgitte said. "It's good to see you two acting like mother and child, or at least woman and woman, rather than staring at each other like two posts."

  "Elayne is Queen," Morgase said stiffly. "Her life belongs to her people, and my arrival threatened to upset her Succession."

  "It still might muddy things, Mother," Elayne said. "Your appearance could open old wounds."

  "I will have to apologize," Morgase said. "Perhaps offer reparations." She hesitated. "I had intended to stay away, daughter. It would be best if those who hated me still thought me dead. But- "

  "No," Elayne said quickly, squeezing her hands. "This is for the best. We simply will have to approach it with skill and care."

  Morgase smiled. "You make me proud. You will be a wonderful queen."

  Elayne had to force herself to stop beaming. Her mother had never been free with compliments.

  "But tell me, before we go further," Morgase said, voice growing more hesitant. "I have heard reports that Gaebril was . . ."

  "Rahvin," Elayne said, nodding. "It's true, Mother."

  "I hate him for what he did. I can see him, using me, driving spikes through the hearts and loyalty of my dearest friends. And yet there is a part of me that longs to see him, irrationally."

  "He used Compulsion on you," Elayne said softly. "There is no other explanation. We will have to see if any from the White Towet can Heal it."

  Morgase shook her head. "Whatever it was, it is faint now, and manageable. I have found anothet to give my affection."

  Elayne frowned.

  "I will explain that at another point," Morgase said. "I'm not certain I undetstand it yet. First we must decide what to do about my return."

  "That is easy," Elayne said. "We celebrate!"

  "Yes, but "

  "But nothing, Mother," Elayne said. "You have returned to us! The city, the entire nation, will celebrate." She hesitated. "And after that, we will find an important function for you."

  "Something that takes me away from the capital, so I cast no unfortunate shadows."

  "But a duty that is important, so that you are not thought of as having been put out to pasture." Elayne grimaced. "Perhaps we can give you charge of the western quarter of the realm. I have little pleasure in the reports of what is happening there."

  "The Two Rivers?" Morgase asked. "And Lord Perrin Aybara?"

  Elayne nodded.

  "He is an interesting one, Perrin is," Morgase said thoughtfully. "Yes, perhaps I could be of some use there. We have something of an understanding already."

  Elayne raised an eyebrow.

  "He was behind my safe return to you," Morgase said. "He is an honest man, and honotable as well. But also a rebel, despite his good intentions. You will not have an easy time of it if you come to blows with that one."

  "I'd rather avoid it." She grimaced. The easiest way to deal with it would be to find him and execute him, but of course she wasn't going to do that. Even if reports had her fuming enough to almost wish that she could.

  "Well, we shall begin working on a way." Morgase smiled. "It will help you to hear of what happened to me. Oh, and Lini is safe. I don't know if you've worried over her or not."

  "To be honest, I didn't," Elayne said, grimacing, feeling a spike of shame. "It seems that the collapse of Dragonmount itself couldn't harm Lini."

  Morgase smiled, then began her story. Elayne listened with awe, and not a little excitement. Het mother lived. Light be blessed, so many things had gone wrong recently, but at least one had gone right.

  * * *

  The Three-fold Land at night was peaceful and quiet. Most animals were active near dusk and dawn, when it was neither sweltering nor freezing.

  Aviendha sat on a small rock outcropping, legs folded beneath her, looking down upon Rhuidean, in the lands of the Jenn Aiel, the clan that was not. Once Rhuidean had been shrouded in protective mists. That was before Rand had come. He'd broken the city in three very important, very discomforting ways.

  The first was the simplest. Rand had taken away the mist. The city had shed its dome like an algai'd'siswai unveiling his face. She didn't know how Rand had caused the transformation; she doubted that he knew himself. But in exposing the city, he had changed it forever.

  The second way Rand had broken Rhuidean was by bringing it watet. A grand lake lay beside the city, and phantom moonlight, filtered through clouds above, made the waters shine. The people were calling the lake Tsodrelle'Aman. Tears of the Dragon, though the lake should be called Tears of the Aiel. Rand al'Thor had not known how much pain he would cause in what he revealed. Such was the way with him. His actions were often so innocent.

  The third way Rand had broken the city was the most profound. Aviendha was slowly coming to understand this one. Nakomi's words worried her, unnerved her. They had awakened in her shadows of memories, things from potential futures that Aviendha had seen in the rings during her first visit to Rhuidean, but that her mind could not quite recall, at least not directly.

  She worried that Rhuidean would stop mattering very soon. Once, the city's ultimate putpose had been to show Wise Ones and clan chiefs their people's secret past. To prepare them for the day when they'd serve the Dragon. That day had come. So who should come to Rhuidean now? Sending the Aiel leaders through the glass columns would be reminding them of toh they had begun to meet.

  This bothered Aviendha in ways that itched beneath her skin. She didn't want to acknowledge these questions. She wanted to continue with tradition. But she could not get them out of her head.

  Rand caused so many problems. Still, she loved him. She loved him for his ignotance, in a way. It allowed him to learn. And she loved him for the foolish way he tried to protect those who did not want to be protected.

  Most of all, she loved him for his desire to be strong. Aviendha had always wanted to be strong. Learn the spear. Fight and earn ji. Be the best. She could feel him now, distant from her. They were so alike in this way.

  Her feet ached from running. She'd rubbed them with the sap of a segade plant, but she could still feel them throbbing. Her boots sat on the stone beside her, along with the fine woolen stockings that Elayne had given her.

  She was tired and thirsty she would fast this night, contemplating, then refill her waterskin at the lake before going into Rhuidean tomorrow. Tonight, she sat and thought, preparing.

  The lives of the Aiel were changing. It was strength to accept change when it could not be avoided. If a hold was damaged during a raid and you rebuilt it, you never made it exactly the same way. You took the chance to fix the problems the door that creaked in the wind, the uneven section of floor. To make it exactly as it had been would be foolishness.

  Perhaps traditions such as coming to Rhuidean, and even living in the Three-fold Land itself would need to be reexamined eventually. But for now, the Aiel couldn't leave the wetlands. There was the Last Battle. And then the Seanchan had captured many Aiel and made Wise Ones into damane; that could not be allowed. And the White Tower still assumed that all Aiel Wise Ones who could channel were wilders. Something would have to be done about that.

  And herself? The more she thought of it, she realized that she couldn't go back to her old life. She had to be with Rand. If he survived the Last Battle and she intended to fight hard to make certain he did he would still be a wetlander king. And then there was Elayne. Aviendha and she were going to be s
ister-wives, but Elayne would never leave Andor. Would she expect Rand to stay with her? Would that mean Aviendha would need to as well?

  So troubling, both for herself and her people. Traditions should not be maintained just because they were traditions. Strength was not strength if it had no purpose or direction.

  She studied Rhuidean, such a grand place of stone and majesty. Most cities disgusted her with their corrupt filth, but Rhuidean was different. Domed roofs, half-finished monoliths and towers, carefully planned sections with dwellings. The fountains flowed now, and though a large section still bore the scars of when Rand had fought there. Much of that had been cleaned up by the families who lived here, Aiel who had not gone to war.

  There would be no shops. No arguments in streets, no murderers in alleys. Rhuidean might have been deprived of meaning, but it would remain a place of peace.

  I will go on, she decided. Pass through the glass columns. Perhaps her worries were true, and the passage was now far less meaningful, but she was genuinely curious to see what the others had seen. Besides, knowing one's past was important in order to understand the future.

  Wise Ones and clan chiefs had been visiting this location for centuries. They returned with knowledge. Maybe the city would show her what to do about her people, and about her own heart.

  CHAPTER 46

  Working Leather

  Androl carefully took the oval piece of leather from the steaming water; it had darkened and curled. He moved quickly, picking it up in his callused fingers. The leather was springy and flexible now.

  He quickly sat down at his bench, a square of sunlight coming in through the window on his right side. He wrapped the leather around a thick wooden rod about two inches across, then poked holes around the edges.

  From there, he began stitching the leather to another piece he'd prepared earlier. A good stitching around the outside would keep it from fraying. A lot of leatherworkers were casual about stitching. Not Androl. The stitching was what people saw first; it stood out, like paint on a wall.