A Memory of Light

“Then you should have no trouble making the proclamation,” Fortuona said. “We will send emissaries to educate your people on the benefits of damane—our teachers will come peacefully, for we will hold to the treaty. I believe you will be surprised. Some will see what is right.”


“Do what you wish,” Egwene said, amused. “Break no laws, and I suspect most will allow your . . . emissaries. I cannot speak for every ruler.” “What of the lands you control? Tar Valon? You will allow our emissaries?”

“If they break no laws,” Egwene said, “I won’t silence them. I’d al ow in Whitecloaks, if they could say their piece without driving men to riot. But Light, woman. You can’t actually believe . . .”

She trailed off, watching Fortuona. She did believe it. So far as Egwene could tel , she did.

At least she’s sincere, Egwene thought. Insane. Insane, but sincere.

“And the damane you now hold?” Egwene said. “You’l let them go, if they wish to be released?”

“None who are properly trained would wish that.”

“This must be equal on both sides,” Egwene said. “What of a girl whom you discover to be able to channel? If she does not wish to be made damane, will you let her leave your lands and join ours?”

“That would be like letting an enraged grolm free in a city square.” “You said that people wil see the truth,” Egwene said. “If your way of life is strong, your ideals true, then people wil see them for what they are. If they don’t, you shouldn’t force them. Let any who wish to be free go free, and I’ll let your people speak in Tar Valon. Light! I’ll give them room and free board, and I’ll see the same done in every city!”

Fortuona eyed Egwene. “Many of our sul’dam have come to this war anticipating the chance to capture new damane from among those who serve the Shadow. These Sharans, perhaps.

You would have us let them, or your sisters of the Shadow, free? To destroy, murder?”

“To be tried and executed, under the Light.”

“Why not let them be put to use? Why waste their lives?”

“What you do is an abomination!” Egwene said, feeling exasperated. “Not even the Black Ajah deserves that.”

“Resources should not be discarded so idly.”

“Is that so?” Egwene said. “Do you realize that every one of your sul’dam, your precious trainers, is herself a marath’damane?”

Fortuona spun on her. “Do not spread such lies.”

“Oh? Shal we test it, Fortuona? You said you trained them yourself. You are a sul’dam, I presume? Put the a’dam on your neck. I dare you. If I am wrong, it wil do nothing to you. If I am right, you will be subject to its power, and will prove to be marattidamane.”

Fortuonas eyes widened in anger. She had ignored Egwene’s barbs calling her a criminal, but this accusation seemed to dig into her .. so Egwene made certain to twist the knife a little deeper.

Yes, ’ Egwene said. “Let us do it and test the real strength of your commitment. If you prove to be able to channel, will you do as you claim others should? Will you stroll up to the collar and snap it around your own neck, Fortuona? Wil you obey your own laws?”

“I have obeyed them,” Fortuona said coldly. “You are very ignorant. Perhaps it is true, that sul’dam can learn to channel. But this is not the same thing as being a marathdamane—any more than a man who can become a murderer is to be considered one.”

“We shall see,” Egwene said, “once more of your people realize the lies they’ve been told.”

‘I will break you myself,” Fortuona said softly. “Someday, your people will turn you over to me. You will forget yourself, and your arrogance will lead you to our borders. I will be waiting.”

“I plan to live centuries,” Egwene hissed. “I will watch your empire crumble, Fortuona. I will watch it with joy.” She raised a finger to tap the woman on the chest, but Fortuona moved with blurring speed, her hand grabbing Egwene’s by the wrist. For one so small, she certainly was quick.

Egwene embraced the Source by reflex. Damane nearby gasped, and the light of the One Power sprang up around them.

Mat pushed between Egwene and Fortuona and shoved them apart, holding one hand at each woman’s chest. Egwene wove by instinct, intending to remove his hand with a thread of Air. It fell apart, of course.

Blood and ashes, that’s inconvenient! She had forgotten he was there.

“Let’s be civil, ladies,” Mat said, eyeing one of them, then the other. “Don’t make me throw the pair of you over my knee.”

Egwene glared at him, and Mat met her eyes. He was trying to deflect her anger to him instead of Fortuona.

Egwene looked down at his hand, which was pressed against her chest uncomfortably close to her breasts. Fortuona was also looking at that hand.