“Why…” Anaiyella said. “Why are you letting us go?”

“Because today is a day of reunion,” Rand said. “Not a day of death. Go.”

The two stumbled away, looking drained. The others in the courtyard watched with surprise and confusion. The Aiel, however, began to beat their spears against their shields. Anaiyella and Weiramon seemed to keep to the shadows of the courtyard as they ducked into the Stone.

“Leeh,” Rand said. “Take two others. Watch them.”

Three Maidens split from those watching over Rand, darting after the two former nobles. Min stepped up to Rand, taking his arm. “Rand? What was that? What did you see in them?”

“The time for hiding is past, Min. The Shadow made its play for me and lost. It is war, not subterfuge, that turns the day now.”

“So they’re Darkfriends?” Min asked, frowning.

Rand turned to her, smiling. “They are no longer a threat. I—” He cut off suddenly, looking to the side. Min turned, and grew chill.

Tam al’Thor stood nearby. He had just walked out of a nearby entrance into the Stone, pausing on a low set of steps leading down to the courtyard. Rand’s emotions grew apprehensive again, and Min realized what he’d been searching for earlier.

Tam looked at his son, falling still. His hair was gray and his face lined, yet he was solid in a way that few people were.

Rand lifted his hand, and the crowd—Aes Sedai included—parted. Rand passed through them, Min following behind, crossing to the steps up the Stone. Rand climbed a few of those steps, hesitant. The courtyard fell silent; even the gulls stopped calling.

Rand stopped on the steps, and Min could feel his reluctance, his shame, his terror. It seemed so strange. Rand—who had faced Forsaken without a tremor—was afraid of his father.

Rand took the last few steps in two sudden strides and grabbed Tam in an embrace. He stood one step down, which brought them near an equal height. In fact, in that posture, Tam almost seemed a giant, and Rand but a child who was clinging to him.

There, holding to his father, the Dragon Reborn began to weep.

The gathered Aes Sedai, Tairens and Aiel watched solemnly. None shuffled or turned away. Rand squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry, Father,” he whispered. Min could barely hear. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right, son. It’s all right.”

“I’ve done so much that is terrible.”

“Nobody walks a difficult path without stumbling now and again. It didn’t break you when you fell. That’s the important part.”

Rand nodded. They held each other for a time. Eventually, Rand pulled back, then gestured to Min, standing at the base of the steps.

“Come, Father,” Rand said. “There is someone I want to introduce to you.”

Tam chuckled. “It’s been three days, Rand. I’ve already met her.”

“Yes, but I didn’t introduce you. I need to.” He waved to Min, and she raised an eyebrow, folding her arms. He looked at her pleadingly, so she sighed and climbed up the steps.

“Father,” Rand said, resting his hand on Min’s back. “This is Min Farshaw. And she’s very special to me.”

Chapter 14

A Vow

Egwene walked up the side of a gentle slope, the grass green at her feet, the air cool and pleasant. Lazy butterflies floated from blossom to blossom, like curious children peeking into cupboards. Egwene made her shoes vanish so she could feel the blades beneath her feet.

She took a deep breath, smiling, then looked up at the boiling black clouds. Angry, violent, silent despite flashes of amethyst lightning. Terrible storm above, quiet, placid meadow beneath. A dichotomy of the World of Dreams.

Oddly, Tel’aran’rhiod felt more unnatural to her now than it had during her first few visits using Verin’s ter’angreal. She’d treated this place like a playground, changing her clothes on a whim, assuming that she was safe. She hadn’t understood. Tel’aran’rhiod was about as safe as a bear trap painted a pretty color. If the Wise Ones hadn’t straightened her out, she might not have lived to become Amyrlin.

Yes, I think this is it. The rolling green hills, the stands of trees. It was the first place she’d come, well over a year ago. There was something meaningful about standing here, having come so far. And yet it seemed she would have to cover an equal distance before this was done, and in far shorter a time.

When she’d been captive in the Tower, she had reminded herself—repeatedly—that she could focus on only one problem at a time. The reunification of the White Tower had to come first. Now, however, both problems and possible solutions seemed uncountable. They overwhelmed her, drowning her in all of the things she should be doing.

Fortunately, during the last few days, several unexpected stores of grain had been discovered in the city. In one case a forgotten warehouse, owned by a man who had died over the winter. The others were smaller, a few sacks here and there. Remarkably, none of them had borne any kind of rot.

She had two meetings this evening, dealing with other problems. Her biggest difficulty was going to be the perceptions of the people she met with. Neither group would see her as what she had become.

She closed her eyes, willing herself away. When she opened her eyes, she was standing in a large room, deeply shadowed in the corners, its columns rising like thick towers. The Heart of the Stone of Tear.

Two Wise Ones sat on the floor at the center of the room, amid a forest of columns. Above their light brown skirts and white blouses, their faces were distinctly different. Bair’s was wrinkled with age, like leather left to cure in the sun. For all her occasional sternness, smile lines wove from her eyes and mouth.

Amys’ face was silky smooth, an effect of being able to channel. Her face was not ageless, but she could have been Aes Sedai for the emotion she showed.

The two had their shawls at their waists, their blouses unlaced. Egwene sat before them but left herself wearing wetlander clothing. Amys raised an eyebrow; was she thinking that Egwene should have changed? Or did she appreciate that Egwene did not imitate something she was not? It was difficult to tell.

“The battle within the White Tower is over,” Egwene said.

“The woman Elaida a’Roihan?” Amys asked.

“Taken by the Seanchan,” Egwene said. “I have been accepted as Amyrlin by those who followed her. My position is far from secure—at times, I feel balanced atop a stone that sits balanced atop another stone. But the White Tow