A Memory of Light

The Sharan guards maintained an uneasy line against the Trollocs, watching them as they would enemies. This alliance, or whatever it was, did not sit terribly well with the Sharan soldiers. They didn’t try to mask their looks of disgust, and many had tied cloths around their faces to mask the odors.

As Pevara passed their line, a nobleman—or such she assumed him to be, from his armor of brazen rings—moved to confront her. A wel -practiced Aes Sedai look staved him off. I am far too important for you to bother, that look said. It worked beautifully, and they were in.

The Sharan reserve camp was orderly as men rotated in from the west, where they fought the White Tower forces. The fierce channeling from that direction kept drawing Pevara’s attention, like a bright light.

What do you think? Androl sent to her.

We’re going to need to talk to someone. The battlefield is just too big for us to find Taim on our own.

He sent back his agreement. Not for the first time, Pevara found their bond distracting. She not only had to deal with her own nervousness, but Androl’s as wel . That crept from the back of her mind, and she had to constrain it forcefully, using breathing exercises she’d learned when first in the Tower.

She stopped in the center of the camp, looking about, trying to decide whom to approach.

She could distinguish servants from nobles. Approaching the former would be less dangerous, but also less likely to yield results. Maybe— “You!”

Pevara started, spinning around.

“You should not be here.” The aged Sharan was completely bald, with a short gray beard.

Twin sword hilts in the shape of serpents’ heads peeked out over his shoulders; he wore the blades crossed at his back, and he carried a staff that had strange holes along its length. A flute of some sort?

“Come,” the man said, his accent so thick, Pevara could barely make it out. “The Wyld will need to see you.”

Who is the Wyld? Pevara sent Androl.

He shook his head, feeling as baffled as she did.

This could turn out very badly.

The old man stopped ahead of them with an annoyed expression. What would he do if they refused? Pevara was tempted to create a gateway for them to flee.

We follow, Androl thought, striding forward. Were never going to find Taim in this unless we talk to someone.

Pevara frowned as he walked after the man, the other Asha’man joining him. She hurriedly caught up. I thought we had decided I was in charge, she thought to him.

No, he replied, I thought that we’d decided you would act like you were in charge.

She sent back a calculated mix of cold displeasure and an implication that the conversation was not yet finished.

Androl sent back amusement. Did you. . . just glare at me mentally? That’s impressive.

We’re taking a risk, she sent back. This man could lead us into anything.

Yes, he replied.

Something smoldered inside of him, something only hinted at until now. You want Taim that badly?

. . . Yes. I do.

She nodded.

You understand? he sent.

I lost friends to him as well, Androl, she replied. I watched the?n be taken right in front of me.

We have to be careful, though. We cant take too many risks. Not yet.

It’s the end of the world\ Pevara, Androl sent back. If we can’t take risks now, when will we?

She fol owed without further argument, wondering at the determined focus she sensed in Androl. Taim had awoken something inside of him by taking his friends and Turning them to the Shadow.

As they followed the old Sharan, Pevara realized that she didn’t understand what Androl was feeling, not completely. Aes Sedai friends of hers had been taken, but it wasn’t the same as Androl losing Evin. Evin had trusted Androl, looked to Androl for protection. The Aes Sedai with Pevara had been acquaintances, friends, but it was different.

The old Sharan led them to a larger group of people, many of whom wore fine clothing. The highest noblemen and women among the Sharans didn’t seem to fight, for not one of them carried a weapon. They made way for the older man, though several looked at his swords and sneered.

Jonneth and Emarin moved in around Pevara and Theodrin, one to each side, like bodyguards. They eyed the Sharans, hands on weapons, and she suspected that both were holding the One Power. Wel , that would probably be expected of Dreadlords who were walking among allies they didn’t fully trust. They didn’t need to protect Pevara in such a way, but it was a nice gesture. She had always thought it would be useful to have a Warder. She had gone to the Black Tower with the intention of taking multiple Asha’man as Warders.

Perhaps . . .

Androl immediately felt jealous. What are you? Some Green with a flock of men fawning over her?

She sent back amusement. Why not?

They’re too young for you, he sent back. Jonneth is, anyway. And Theodrin would fight you for him.

I’m considering bonding them, she sent back, not bedding them, Androl Honestly. Besides, Emarin prefers men.

Androl paused. He does?

Of course he does. Haven’t you been paying attention?