Page 91 of The Gathering Storm (The Wheel of Time 12)

Sheriam eyed her, skepticism showing. Most of the sisters didn’t believe Egwene’s Dreaming of the attack. Fools—they wanted to catch the fish, but didn’t want to gut it. You didn’t raise a woman to Amyrlin, then treat her warnings lightly.

Siuan waited impatiently, tapping her foot, listening to the conversation inside the tent. Just as she was beginning to wonder if she’d need to send another novice, one of Bryne’s couriers trotted up to the tent on horseback. The ill-tempered brute he was riding was midnight black with white just above the hooves, and it snorted at Siuan as the rider pulled up short, wearing a neat uniform and close-cropped brown hair. Did he have to bring that creature with him?

“Aes Sedai?” the man asked, bowing to her from horseback. “You have a message for Lord Bryne?”

“Yes,” Siuan said. “And you’ll see it delivered with all haste. You understand me? All of our lives could depend on it.”

The soldier nodded sharply.

“Tell Lord Bryne . . .” Siuan began. “Tell him to watch his flanks. Our enemy has been taught the method we used to get here.”

“It shall be done.”

“Repeat it back to me,” Siuan said.

“Of course, Aes Sedai,” the slender man said, bowing again. “Just so you know, I have been a messenger in the general’s command for over a decade. My memory—”

“Stop,” Siuan interrupted. “I don’t care how long you’ve been doing this. I don’t care how good your memory is. I don’t care if, by some twist of fate, you’ve been asked to run this very same message a thousand times before. You will repeat it back to me.”

“Um, yes, Aes Sedai. I’m to tell the Lord General to watch his flanks. Our enemy has been taught the method we used to get here.”

“Good. Go.”

The man nodded.

“Now!”

He reared that awful horse and galloped out of the camp, cloak flapping behind him.

“What was that about?” Sheriam asked, glancing away from the proceedings inside the Hall.

“Making certain we don’t wake up with Elaida’s army surrounding us,” Siuan said. “I’ll bet I’m the only one who thought to warn our general that the enemy may have just undone our biggest tactical advantage. So much for a siege.”

Sheriam frowned, as if she hadn’t considered that. She wouldn’t be alone. Oh, some would think of Bryne, and would be planning to send word to the general eventually. But for many, the catastrophe here wasn’t the fact that Elaida could now move her armies to flank them, or that now Bryne’s siege was useless. The catastrophe would be more personal for them: the knowledge they’d worked to keep secret had fallen into the hands of others. Traveling was theirs, and now Elaida had it! Very Aes Sedai. Indignation first, implication second.

Or perhaps Siuan was just feeling bitter. Someone inside the tent finally thought to call for the meeting to be Sealed to the Flame, and so Siuan withdrew, stepping off the walkway and onto the hard-packed earth. Novices scuttled this way and that, heads bowed to avoid her eyes, though they were quick to curtsy. I haven’t been doing a very good job of acting weak today, Siuan thought with a grimace.

The White Tower was crumbling. The Ajahs weakened one another with petty infighting. Even here, in Egwene’s camp, more time was spent politicking than preparing for the coming storm.

And Siuan was partially responsible for those failures.

Elaida and her Ajah certainly bore the lionfish’s share of the blame. But would the Tower have split in the first place if Siuan had fostered cooperation between the Ajahs? Elaida hadn’t had that long to work. Every rift that appeared in the Tower could likely be traced back to tiny cracks during Siuan’s tenure as Amyrlin. If she’d been more of a mediator among the factions of the White Tower, could she have pounded strength into the bones of these women? Could she have kept them from turning on one another like razorfish in a blood frenzy?

The Dragon Reborn was important. But he was only one figure in the weaving of these final days. It was too easy to forget that, too easy to watch the dramatic figure of legend and forget everyone else.

She sighed, picking up her laundry and—out of habit—checking to make certain everything was there. As she did so, a figure in white approached her from one of the branching pathways. “Siuan Sedai?”

Siuan looked up, frowning. The novice before her was one of the strangest in the camp. Nearly seventy years old, Sharina had the weathered, creased face of a grandmother. She kept her silver hair up in a bun, and while she walked without a stoop, there was a certain distinct weight to her. She had seen so much, done so much, passed so many years. And unlike an Aes Sedai, Sharina had lived all of those years. Working, raising a family, even burying children.

She was strong in the power. Remarkably so; she would wear the shawl for certain, and as soon as she did, she’d be far above Siuan. For now, though, Sharina curtsied deeply. She gave an almost perfect show of deference. Of all of the novices, she was known to complain the least, make the least trouble, and study the most assiduously. As a novice, she understood things that most Aes Sedai had never learned—or had forgotten the moment they took the shawl. How to

be humble when necessary, how to take a punishment, how to know when you needed to learn rather than pretend you already knew. If only we had a few score more of her, Siuan thought, and a few score less Elaidas and Romandas.

“Yes, child?” Siuan asked. “What is it?”

“I saw you picking up that wash, Siuan Sedai,” Sharina said. “And I thought that perhaps I should carry it for you.”

Siuan hesitated. “I wouldn’t want you to tire yourself.”