Nynaeve flung her hands into the air. "Light! We were heartbeats from the end, because of you. The end of everything. No more Pattern, no more world, nothing. Millions of lives could have winked out because of your carelessness".
"I . . Leilwin’s failures seemed monumental, suddenly. Her life, lost. Her very name, lost. Her ship, stripped from her by the Daughter of the Nine Moons herself. All were immaterial in light of this.
"I did fight", Bayle said more firmly. "I did fight with what I could give".
"I should have joined you, it appears", Leilwin said.
"I did try to explain that", Bayle said grimly. "Many times now, burn me, but I did".
"Bah", Nynaeve said, raising a hand to her forehead. "What are you doing here, Egeanin? I had hoped you were dead. If you had died trying to keep your oath, then I could not have blamed you".
I handed it to Suroth myself Leilwin thought. A price paid for my life, the only way out.
"Well?" Nynaeve glared at her. "Out with it, Egeanin".
"I no longer bear that name". Leilwin went down on her knees. "I have had all stripped from me, including my honor, it now appears. I give myself to you as payment".
Nynaeve snorted. "We don’t keep people as if they were animals, unlike you Seanchan".
Leilwin continued kneeling. Bayle rested a hand on her shoulder, but did not try to pull her to her feet. He understood well enough now why she had to do as she had. He was quite nearly civilized.
"On your feet", Nynaeve snapped. "Light, Egeanin. I remember you being so strong you could chew rocks and spit out sand".
"It is my strength that compels me", she said, lowering her eyes. Did Nynaeve not understand how difficult this was? It would be easier to slit her own throat, only she had not the honor left to demand such an easy end.
"Stand!"
Leilwin did as told.
Nynaeve grabbed her cloak off the bed and threw it on. "Come. We’ll take you to the Amyrlin. Maybe she’ll know what to do with you".
Nynaeve barged out into the night, and Leilwin followed. Her decision had been made. There was only one path that made sense, one way to preserve a shred of honor, and perhaps to help her people survive the lies they had been telling themselves for so long.
Leilwin Shipless now belonged to the White Tower. Whatever they said, whatever they tried to do with her, that fact would not change. They owned her. She would be a da covale to this Amyrlin, and would ride this storm like a ship whose sail had been shredded by the wind.
Perhaps, with what remained of her honor, she could earn this woman’s trust.
"It’s part of an old Borderlander relief for the pain", Melten said, removing the bandage at Talmanes’ side. "The blisterleaf slows the taint left by the cursed metal".
Melten was a lean, mop-haired man. He dressed like an Andoran woodsman, with a simple shirt and cloak, but spoke like a Borderlander. In his pouch he carried a set of colored balls that he’d sometimes juggle for the other members of the Band. In another life, he must have been a gleeman.
He was an unlikely man to be in the Band, but they all were, in one way or another.
"I don’t know how it dampens the poison", Melten said. "But it does. It’s no natural poison, mind you. You can’t suck it free".
Talmanes pressed his hand to the side. The burning pain felt like thorny vines crawling in under his skin, creeping forward and tearing at his flesh with every movement. He could feel the poison moving through his body. Light, but it hurt.
Nearby, the men of the Band fought through Caemlyn up toward the Palace. They’d come in through the southern gate, leaving the mercenary bands—under Sandip’s command—holding the western gate.
If there was human resistance anywhere in the city, it would be at the Palace. Unfortunately, fists of Trollocs roved the area between Talmanes’ position and the Palace. They kept running across the monsters and getting drawn into fights.
Talmanes couldn’t find out if, indeed, there was resistance above without getting there. That meant leading his men up toward the Palace, fighting all the way, and leaving himself open to being cut off from behind if one of those roving groups worked around behind him. There was nothing for it, though. He needed to find out what—if anything—remained of the Palace defenses. From there, he could strike further into the city and try to get the dragons.
The air smelled of smoke and blood; during a brief pause in the fighting, they’d piled dead Trollocs against the right side of the street to make room for passage.
There were refugees in this quarter of the city, too, though not a flood of them. A stream, maybe, seeping in from the darkness as Talmanes and the Band seized sections of the thoroughfare leading up toward the Palace. These refugees never demanded that the Band protect their goods or rescue their homes; they sobbed with joy at finding human resistance. Madwin was in charge of sending them toward freedom along the corridor of safety the Band had carved free.
Talmanes started up toward the Palace, atop the hill but only barely visible in the night. Though most of the city burned, the Palace was not aflame; its white walls hung in the smoky night like phantoms. No fire. That had to indicate resistance, didn’t it? Wouldn’t the Trollocs have attacked it as one of their first actions in the city?
He’d sent scouts along the street up ahead as he gave his men—and himself—a short breather.
Melten finished tying Talmanes’ poultice tight.
"Thank you, Melten", Talmanes said, nodding to the man. "I can feel the poultice working already. You said this is part of the cure for the pain. What is the other part?"
Melten unhooked a metal flask from his belt and handed it over. "Shienaran brandy, full strength".
"It’s not a good idea to drink in combat, man".
"Take it", Melten said softly. "Keep the flask and drink it deep, my Lord. Or come the next bell, you won’t be standing".
Talmanes hesitated, then took the flask and took a long swallow. It burned like the wound. He coughed, then tucked the brandy away. "I believe you mistook your bottles, Melten. That was something you found in a tanning vat".
Melten snorted. "And it’s said you have no sense of humor, Lord Talmanes".
"I haven’t one", Talmanes said. "Stay close with that sword of yours".
Melten nodded, eyes solemn. "Dreadbane", he whispered.
"What’s that?"
"Borderlander title. You slew a Fade. Dreadbane".
"It had about seventeen bolts in it at the time".
"Doesn’t matter". Melten clasped him on the shoulder. "Dreadbane. When you can’t take the pain any longer, make two fists and raise them toward me. I will see the deed done".
Talmanes stood up, unable to suppress a groan. They both understood. The several Borderlanders in the Band agreed; wounds made by a Thakan’dar blade were unpredictable. Some festered quickly, others made men sick. When one went black like Talmanes’, though . . . that was the worst. Nothing short of finding an Aes Sedai in the next few hours could save him.
"See", Talmanes muttered, "it is a good thing I have no sense of humor, otherwise I should think the Pattern was playing a joke on me. Dennel! You have a map handy?" Light, but he missed Vanin.
"My Lord", Dennel said, hurrying across the dark street carrying a torch and a hastily drawn map. He was one of the Band’s dragon captains. "I think I’ve found a faster way through the streets to where Aludra had the dragons stored".
"We’re fighting to the Palace first", Talmanes said.
"My Lord". Dennel’s words came more softly from his wide lips. He was picking at his uniform, as if it didn’t fit right. "If the Shadow reaches those dragons . . ".
"I’m well aware of the dangers, Dennel, thank you. How fast could you move the things, assuming we reach them? I’m worried about extending ourselves too far, and this city is going up faster than oil-soaked love letters to a High Lords mistress. I want to get the weapons and leave the city as quickly as possible".
"I can level an enemy bulwark in a shot or two, my Lord, but the dragons do not move quickly. They are attached to carts, so that will help, but they aren’t going to be any faster than . . . say, a line of supply wagons. And they would take time to set up properly and fire".
"Then we continue to the Palace", Talmanes said.
"But—"
"At the Palace", he said sternly, "we might find women who can channel us a gateway straight to Aludra’s warehouse. Besides, if we find the Palace Guard still fighting, we know we have a friend at our backs. We will retrieve those dragons, but we’ll do it smartly".
He noticed Ladwin and Mar hurrying down from above. "There are Trollocs up there!" Mar said, hastening up to Talmanes. "A hundred strong at least, hunkered down in the street".
"Form ranks, men!" Talmanes shouted. "We push for the Palace!"
The sweat tent fell completely still.
Aviendha had anticipated incredulity, perhaps, at her tale. Questions, certainly. Not this painful silence.
Though she had not expected it, she did understand it. She had felt it herself after seeing her vision of the Aiel slowly losing ji’e’toh in the future. She had witnessed the death, dishonor and ruination of her people. At least now she had someone with whom to share that burden.
The heated stones in the kettle hissed softly. Someone should pour more water, but none of the room’s six occupants moved to tend it. The other five were all Wise Ones, nak*d—as was Aviendha—after the manner of sweat tents. Sorilea, Amys, Bair, Melaine and Kymer of the To-manelle Aiel. All stared straight ahead, each alone for the moment with her thoughts.
One by one, they straightened their backs and sat up, as if accepting a new burden. That comforted Aviendha; not that she’d expected the news to break them. It was still good to see them set their faces toward the danger instead of away from it.
"Sightblinder is too close to the world now", said Melaine. "The Pattern has been twisted somehow. In the dream we still see many things that may or may not happen, but there are too many possibilities; we cannot tell one from another. The fate of our people is unclear to the dreamwalkers, as is the fate of the Car’a’carn once he spits in Sightblinder’s eye on the Last Day. We do not know the truth of what Aviendha saw".
"We must test this", Sorilea said, eyes like stone. "We must know. Is each woman now shown this vision instead of the other, or was the experience unique?"
"Elenar of the Daryne", Amys said. "Her training is nearly complete; she will be the next to visit Rhuidean. We could ask Hayde and Shanni to encourage her".
Aviendha suppressed a shudder. She understood too well how "encouraging" the Wise Ones could be.
"That would be well", Bair said, leaning forward. "Perhaps this is what happens whenever someone goes through the glass columns a second time? Maybe that is why it is forbidden".