A Memory of Light

“What do we do?” Myrelle asked. The Green had been with Lyrelle from the start, one of the few that she’d not sent away, partially because she wanted the woman’s Warders near.

“If some of their members are fighting for the Shadow . . .”

“Gateways can be made again,” Seaine said. “Something has changed about this place in the days since we felt that channeling inside.”

“I don’t trust it,” Myrel e said.

“We must know for certain,” Seaine said. “We cannot leave the Black Tower unattended during the Last Battle itself. We must see these men taken care of, one way or another.” The Black Tower men claimed that only a few of their number had joined the Shadow, and that the channeling had been the result of an attack by the Black Ajah.

It galled her to hear them use those words. Black Ajah. For centuries, the White Tower had denied the existence of Darkfriends among Aes Sedai. The truth had, unfortunately, been revealed. That didn’t mean Lyrelle wanted to hear men tossing around the term so casually.

Particularly men like these.

“If they’d wanted to attack us/’ Lyrel e said speculatively, “they’d have done it when we couldn’t escape with gateways. For now, I will assume they have cleansed the . . . problems among their ranks. As was required of the White Tower itself.”

“So we go in?” Myrelle asked.

“Yes. We bond the men we were promised, and from them draw out the truth, if it is obscured.” It troubled Lyrel e that the Dragon Reborn had refused them the highest-ranking among the Asha’man, but Lyrelle had devised a plan when she first came here. It should still work. She would first ask for a display of channeling among the men, and would bond the one she felt was strongest. She would then have that one tel her which among the trainees were the most talented so her sisters could bond those.

From there . . . wel , she hoped that would contain the majority of these men. Light, what a mess. Men who could channel, walking about unashamed! She did not accept this fable of the taint having been cleansed. Of course these . . . men . . . would claim such a thing.

“Sometimes,” Lyrelle muttered, “I wish I could go back and slap myself for accepting this commission.”

Myrelle laughed. She never did take events as seriously as she should. Lyrelle felt annoyed at having missed the chances to be had at the White Tower during her long absence.

Reunification, fighting the Seanchan . . . These were the times when leadership could be proven, and a woman could gain a reputation for strength.

Opportunities appeared during times of upheaval. Opportunities now lost to her. Light, but she hated that thought.

“We will enter,” she called up to the walls framing the gate before her. Then, more softly, she continued to her women: “Hold the One Power and be careful. We do not know what could happen here.” Her women would be a match for a larger number of untrained Asha’man, if it came to that. It shouldn’t, logically. Of course, the men were likely mad. So perhaps assuming logic from them was imprudent.

The large gates opened to al ow her people in. It said something about these Black Tower men that they chose to finish the wal s around their grounds before actually building their tower.

She kneed her horse forward, and Myrel e and the others fol owed in a clopping of hooves.

Lyrelle embraced the Source and used the new weave, which would tell her if a man channeled nearby. It was not the young man from a short time ago who met them at the gates, however.

“What is this?” Lyrelle asked as she was joined by Pevara Tazanovni. Lyrelle knew the Red Sitter, though not wel .

“I’ve been asked to accompany you,” Pevara said cheerfully. “Logain thought that a familiar face might make you more comfortable.”

Lyrelle held in a sneer. Aes Sedai should not be cheerful. Aes Sedai should be calm, collected, and—if anything else—stern. A man should look at an Aes Sedai and immediately wonder what he had done wrong and how he could fix it.

Pevara fell in beside her as they rode onto the grounds of the Black Tower. “Logain, who is in charge now, sends his regards,” Pevara continued. “He was gravely wounded in the attacks and has not yet fully recovered.” “Will he be well?”

“Oh, certainly. He should be up and about in another day or two. He wil be needed to lead the Asha’man as they join the Last Battle, I suspect.” Pity, Lyrelle thought. The Black Tower would have been more easily controlled without a false Dragon at their head. Better that he had died.

“I am certain his aid will be useful,” Lyrelle said. “His leadership, however . . . Well, we shall see. Tel me, Pevara. I have been told that bonding a man who can channel is different from bonding a normal man. Have you been through the process?”

“Yes,” Pevara said.