Towers of Midnight by Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson Page B

asleep,” Egwene said. “What is it? What has happened?”
    “He’s here , Mother. At the White Tower.”
    “Who?”
    “The Dragon Reborn. He’s asking to see you.”

    “Well, this is a pot of fisherman’s stew made only with the heads,” Siuan said as she stalked through a hallway of the White Tower. “How did he get through the city without anyone seeing him?”
    High Captain Chubain winced.
    As well he should, Siuan thought. The raven-haired man wore the uniform of the Tower Guard, a white tabard over his mail emblazoned with the flame of Tar Valon. He walked with a hand on his sword. There had been some talk that he might be replaced as High Captain now that Bryne was in Tar Valon, but Egwene had followed Siuan’s advice not to do so. Bryne didn’t want to be High Captain, and he would be needed as a field general for the Last Battle.
    Bryne was out with his men; finding quarters and food for fifty thousand troops was proving to be near impossible. She’d sent him word, and could feel him getting closer. Stern block of wood though the man was, Siuan felt that his stability would have been nice to have near her right now. The Dragon Reborn? Inside Tar Valon?
    “It’s not really that surprising he got so far, Siuan,” Saerin said. The olive-skinned Brown had been with Siuan when they’d seen the captain racing by, pale-faced. Saerin had white at her temples, some measure of age as an Aes Sedai, and had a scar on one cheek, the origin of which Siuan hadn’t been able to pry out of her.
    “There are hundreds of refugees pouring into the city each day,” Saerin continued, “and any man with half an inclination to fight is being sent for recruitment into the Tower Guard. It’s no wonder nobody stopped al’Thor.”
    Chubain nodded. “He was at the Sunset Gate before anyone questioned him. And then he just…well, he just said he was the Dragon Reborn, and that he wanted to see the Amyrlin. Didn’t yell it out or anything, said it calm as spring rain.”
    The hallways of the Tower were busy, though most of the women didn’t seem to know what they were to do, darting this way and that like fish in a net.
    Stop that, Siuan thought. He’s come into our seat of power. He’s the one caught in the net.
    “What is his game, do you think?” Saerin asked.
    “Burn me if I know,” Siuan replied. “He’s bound to be mostly insane by now. Maybe he’s frightened, and has come to turn himself in.”
    “I doubt that.”
    “As do I,” Siuan said grudgingly. During these last few days, she’d found—to her amazement—that she liked Saerin. As Amyrlin, Siuan hadn’t had time for friendships; it had been too important to play the Ajahs off one another. She’d thought Saerin obstinate and frustrating. Now that they weren’t butting heads so often, she found those attributes appealing.
    “Maybe he heard that Elaida was gone,” Siuan said, “and thought that he would be safe here, with an old friend on the Amyrlin Seat.”
    “That doesn’t match what I’ve read of the boy,” Saerin replied. “Reports call him mistrustful and erratic, with a demanding temper and an insistence on avoiding Aes Sedai.”
    That was what Siuan had heard as well, though it had been two years since she’d seen the boy. In fact, the last time he’d stood before her, she’d been the Amyrlin and he’d been a simple sheepherder. Most of what she knew of him since then had come through the Blue Ajah’s eyes-and-ears. It took a great deal of skill to separate speculation from truth, but most agreed about al’Thor. Temperamental, distrustful, arrogant. Light burn Elaida! Siuan thought. If not for her, we’d have had him safely in Aes Sedai care long ago.
    They climbed down three spiraling ramps and entered another of the White Tower’s white-walled hallways, moving toward the Hall of the Tower. If the Amyrlin was going to receive the Dragon Reborn, then she’d do it there. Two twisting turns later—past mirrored