A Memory of Light

“It is nothing,” Bair said. “We should have guarded our tongues. We were the ones to invite you here to meet us, after all.”


“It is good to see you, Egwene al’Vere,” Melaine said, smiling with affection. The woman looked so far along in her pregnancy, she must be close to delivering. “From reports, your army gains much ju

“We do well,” Egwene said, settling herself on the floor with them. “You shall have your own chance, Melaine.”

“The Car’a’carn delays,” Amys said, frowning. “The spears grow impatient. We should be moving against Sightblinder.”

“He likes to prepare and plan,” Egwene said. She hesitated. “I cannot remain with you long. I have a meeting with him later today.”

“About what?” Bair asked, leaning forward, curious.

“I don’t know,” Egwene said. “I found a letter from him on the floor of my tent. He said he wanted to see me, but not as Dragon and Amyrlin. As old friends.”

“Tell him that he must not dally,” Bair said. “But here, there is something we need to speak of with you.”

“What is it?” Egwene asked, curious.

“Have you seen anything like this?” Melaine said, concentrating. On the floor between them, the rock split with cracks. She was imposing her will upon the World of Dreams, creating something specific for Egwene to see.

At first, she was confused. Cracks in the rock? Of course she had seen cracks in rock before.

And with the earthquakes striking the land so often recently, they were probably becoming even more common.

There was something distinctive about these. Egwene leaned forward, and found that the cracks seemed to empty into nothing. A deep blackness. Unnaturally so.

“What is it?” Egwene asked.

“Our people report seeing these,” Amys said softly. “Those fighting in Andor and those in the Blasted Lands with Rand al’Thor. They appear like fractures in the pattern itself. They remain dark like that for a few moments, then fade, leaving behind ordinary cracks.”

“It is a very dangerous sign,” Bair said. “We sent one of ours to ask at the Borderlands, where Lan Mandragoran fights. It appears that the cracks are most common there.”

“They appear more frequently when the Dreadlords fight,” Amys said. “When they use the weave known as balefire.”

Egwene stared at that darkness, shivering. “Balefire weakens the Pattern. During the War of Power, even the Forsaken grew to fear using it, lest they unravel the world itself.”

“We must spread the word to all of our allies,” Amys said. “We must not use this weave.”

“It is forbidden of Aes Sedai already,” Egwene said. “But I will make it known that nobody is to consider breaking that rule.”

“That is wise,” Melaine said. “For a people with so many rules for themselves, I have found that the Aes Sedai are very proficient at ignoring guidelines if their situation allows it.”

“We trust our women,” Egwene said. “The Oaths hold them; otherwise, their own wisdom must guide them. If Moiraine had not been wil ing to bend this rule, Perrin would be dead— as would Mat, had Rand ignored the rule. But I will speak to the women.”

Balefire bothered her. Not that it existed or did what it did. It was uniquely dangerous. And yet, what was it Perrin had said to her in the dream? It’s only another weave . . .

It seemed unfair that the Shadow should have access to such a weapon as this, one that unraveled the Pattern as it was used. How would they fight it, how could they counter it?

“This is not the only reason we sent to you, Egwene al’Vere,” Melaine said. “You have seen the changes to the World of Dreams?”

Egwene nodded. “The storm grows worse here.”

“We wil not be visiting here often in the future,” Amys said. “We have made the decision.

And, despite our complaints about him, the Car’a’carn does prepare his armies to move. It will not be long before we march with him to the Shadow’s own hold.”

Egwene nodded slowly. “So this is it.”

“I am proud of you, girl,” Amys said. Amys, tough-as-rocks Amys, looked teary-eyed. They rose, and Egwene embraced them one at a time.

“Light shelter you, Amys, Melaine, Bair,” Egwene said. “Give my love to the others.”

“It will be done, Egwene al’Vere,” Bair said. “May you find water and shade, now and always.”

One by one, they faded from Tear. Egwene took a deep breath, looking upward. The building groaned, like a ship in a tempest. The rock itself seemed to shift around her.

She had loved this place—not the Stone, but Tel’ararirhiod. It had taught her so much. But she knew, as she prepared to leave, that it was like a river in dangerous flood. Familiar and loved it might be, but she could not risk herself here. Not while the White Tower needed her.

“And farewell to you, old friend,” she said to the air. “Until I dream again.”

She let herself wake.