The Wheel of Time: Book Eight, The Path of Daggers

Video version!

Slog? What slog?! We’re talking about The Path of Daggers today, and I’m excited for this one. I’ve been holding off on discussing logistics for a couple of books now, and now we finally have the perfect opportunity. I almost covered this topic for A Crown of Swords, but I’m glad that I held off. But, before we get into the meat of our rations, we need to eat our summary.

As a reminder, this is a response to the book. Think of it as a companion, something to read after reading the book if you want to spend more time thinking about it. There will be spoilers. If you haven’t read the book yet, go do that before reading this post.

Summary

• Rulers of the Borderlands
  • In the prologue, the rulers of Kandor, Arafel, Shienar, and Saldaea meet in secret, in the Black Hills. Ethenielle is Queen of Kandor, Paitar Nachiman is King of Arafel, Easar Togita is King of Shienar, and Tenobia is Queen of Saldaea. They are traveling with thirteen Aes Sedai and doing their best to avoid detection. They make a blood oath: “We are one, to the death.” They will find Rand and “do what needed to be done,” but it’s hard to tell what, exactly, that is. Just killing him seems like a stupid plan, so I’d guess that they mean to come to an arrangement (probably to form an alliance against Shai’Tan without being conquered as part of Rand’s growing empire.) But, that’s just speculation at this point.
  • There are some comments on potential marriages and succession here that I think are mostly irrelevant to the rest of the book, except that Tenobia has no children and thus Davram Bashere or his heir are the nearest heir for the throne of Saldaea. There’s a real chance that Faile will become Queen of Saldaea.
• Verin
  • Verin has pieced together a flawed version of Compulsion, which she’s using on the da’tsang Aes Sedai in the Aiel camp. Her goal is to “keep young Rand alive until it was time for him to die.”
• Moridin
  • Moridin is “playing both sides of the board,” but we don’t really know what this means yet (does he serve Shai’tan either way, or does he potentially oppose Shai’tan?) He has an interesting comment that the Fisher, a piece in a game from a previous Age, may “come from some dim remnant of a memory of Rand al’Thor.”
  • Moridin tails Elayne’s group. He doesn’t care about their ter’angreal, but he’s furious that they might be able to undo Shai’tan’s alteration of the weather using the Bowl of the Winds. If not for Aviendha unraveling her Gateway, Moridin may have been able to follow them.
  • The gholam does not follow Moridin and doesn’t remember what the True Power is. It is ordered to kill Mat and the women and considers the women to be the easier target, as Mat’s amulet is the first thing to ever hurt it.
  • Moridin sends Moghedien, Shaidar Haran, and a woman introduced as “Cyndane,” meaning “Last Chance,” to Graendal. (This is totally Lanfear, right?) Moridin is openly declared to be Nae’blis. Graendal initially fights back, but quickly acquiesces to Shaidar Haran. She will serve, but secretly holds that though Moridin may be Nae’blis now, she may yet have her chance.
• Elayne’s group (the Atha’an Miere, the Kin, and the Aes Sedai)
  • Throughout the book, tensions are high between the Atha’an Miere, the Kin, and the Aes Sedai. Nynaeve is distracted by Lan and isn’t helping much, so the responsibility is often left to Elayne, who continues the leadership she began in the last book. Fortunately, Alise – one of the Kinswomen – is very good at keeping everyone organized and in order.
    • The Atha’an Miere are haughty, feeling superior due to their advantageous bargain with the Aes Sedai: the Atha’an Miere will guide the channeling for the Bowl of the Winds and in return the Aes Sedai will provide them with 20 sisters to teach them whatever the Windfinders want to know, unable to leave until others come to replace them. They can also visit the Tower as guests, learn whatever they want, and leave whenever they want. They also get to keep the Bowl. It really is a terribly lopsided deal, given that they wanted to fix the weather as much as anyone.
    • The Kin, on the other hand, are still fearful of the Aes Sedai and are torn between wanting to join the Tower and wanting to live freely. Some of the Kin are very old and powerful: becoming novices and serving at the Tower’s whim might not sit well with them. They’re also coming to learn that the Aes Sedai are not infallible or omniscient.
  • Shortly before the Seanchan attack on Ebou Dar, Elayne’s group Travels to a location that no one else knows about before moving on to the Kin’s Farm. Aviendha unravels her Gateway, which is shocking to everyone present. She risked this because she saw someone watching her. She comes to believe that she was just being paranoid, but we know that it was Moridin, and the gholam wasn’t far behind.
  • They form a full circle to use the Bowl of the Winds, led by Caire din Gelyn Running Wave. The channeling is extremely powerful, shooting saidin and saidar through the sky. The weather doesn’t change instantly and don’t see the effect in this chapter, but it doesn’t take long for winter to come on throughout the world, along with some fairly harsh storms.
  • The Seanchan attack on Ebou Dar occurs at about the same time as the channeling and the immense power of the channeling is a beacon to them. Seanchan quickly move on the Farm. Elayne, who created the Gateway, tries to unravel it like Aviendha did as Seanchan begin to attack through the Gateway. Her unraveling fails, but fortuitously, as it destroys all but one of the Seanchan at the Farm and doesn’t kill anyone on Elayne’s side (other than her horse, Lioness.) They Travel to Andor, to one of Elayne’s estates not far from Caemlyn.
  • Ispan, of the Black Ajah, is still held prisoner. She’s initially held by the Kin, but eventually passed to Adeleas and Vandene, who put her to the question whenever time allows. They’re clearly employing torture, but we don’t get specifics.
  • Not far from Caemlyn, Adeleas and Ispan are both found dead, having been given Crimsonthorn, which – in a high dose – causes paralysis and a slow death. It seems that Ispan was the primary target of the brutality (she has a stake in her chest,) so it seems clear that the culprit was a Darkfriend. It would seem that the killer is one of their group.
  • Elayne finally arrives in Caemlyn to submit her claim to the throne. She encounters Dyelin, who could be her greatest rival. Dyelin asks whether Elayne has come to accept the throne from Rand but she firmly responds that she’s claiming the throne by her own right. Dyelin seems to approve of this, and it seems as though she’ll support Elayne.
  • We don’t see more from Elayne’s perspective this book, but we learn from Rand that she quickly takes down his banners. Rand seems hurt by this, but he hasn’t spoken to her directly yet.
• Sevanna and the Shaido
  • The Shaido have encountered some Seanchan but don’t really grasp how great of a threat they are and don’t really understand how big an ocean is.
  • The Wise Ones finally confront Sevanna, deciding that since she speaks as the clan chief she also needs a Wise One advisor. Therava, a particularly intimidating Wise One, will advise her. Still, Sevanna is mostly in charge, though she’s growing anxious.
  • Sevanna offers Galina the chance to stop being da’tsang, becoming gai’shain (though note that Sevanna is treating her gai’shain as permanent slaves.) Galina swears an oath, on the oath rod provided by Sammael, to obey all the Wise Ones assembled there with Therava and Sevanna first among them.
• Rand
  • Cadsuane and Sorilea speak about Rand. They agree that, like most men, Rand is mistaking hardness for strength and he must rediscover laughter and tears or else even his victory may be as dark as his defeat. The two women seem to be in alignment, but Cadsuane wonders whether their goals are truly the same. We can speculate that Sorilea’s goal is to preserve that remnant of a remnant of the Aiel while Cadsuane is likely not so focused on the Aiel.
  • In confirmation of Cadsuane and Sorilea’s fears, Rand’s thoughts are very dark and hard.
  • Rand is openly King of Illian, unlike his positions in Tear, Andor, and Cairhien.
  • Lews Therin’s voice is initially gone from Rand’s thoughts, which causes him anxiety. He eventually reappears.
  • Throughout the book, Rand is suffering some illness in channeling. Both seizing and releasing saidin cause a severe bout of dizziness and nausea. To hide this, Rand holds on to saidin as often as he can, to avoid revealing his weakness.
  • Recruiting for the Black Tower is going well. The newest count is 29 Asha’man, 97 Dedicated, and 322 Soldiers. As many as fifty recruiting parties add about four men per day. Yet, the brutal pace of their training is causing attrition in the recruits: roughly one in ten are killed or burned out and one in fifty go mad. Madness is treated with euthanasia: a bit of poison in wine.
  • The Seanchan are organizing in the mountains west of Illian, between Illian and Ebou Dar. Rand plans to attack them with the goal of pushing the Seanchan back into the sea.
    • Rand secretly carries Callandor, retrieved by Narishma.
    • Rand’s army is fairly small compared to the Seanchan, only about six thousand men. They’re a fairly diverse group with Saldaeans, Illian, and Tairen forces represented. Bashere is Rand’s closest advisor, but most of the rulers present are those Rand wants to keep an eye on, such as Weiramon, Anaiyella, and Ailil. A large group of those following Rand specifically are called the Legion of the Dragon; they each carry a short sword and a crossbow and do not have cavalry or pikes. Many of the Legion are men who approached the Black Tower and were turned away. Despite their small numbers, there are many Asha’man present, making the army formidable.
    • Rand’s plan is to use short distance Traveling to harry the Seanchan throughout the mountains. Winter storms cause mud and the terrain is challenging, both steep and forested, which is terrible for cavalry but good for the Legion of the Dragon. Moreover, the Asha’man’s healing keeps Rand’s attrition relatively low, as most wounded are able to recover.
    • Rand is nearly killed in the mountains multiple times. First, Eadron Padros tries to assassinate him and narrowly misses due to some birds (reminiscent of Nynaeve being saved from Moghedien by birds.) The second time, Weiramon is out of position at a key moment, allowing Seanchan to break through to Rand. Rand attributes this to incompetence on Weiramon’s part, but I think we should consider sabotage. While Rand is wounded, Anaiyella and Ailil briefly consider abandoning him or even murdering him.
    • Both the Asha’man and the damane in Ebou Dar feel that saidin and saidar are strange. The damane seem to be sick, while the Asha’man describe saidin as being “eager.”
    • As the Seanchan do not yet know about Traveling, they vastly overestimate the size of Rand’s forces. Rand underestimates the ability of raken to scout and is surprised to find the Seanchan at Ebou Dar well prepared for them. As the Seanchan general, Miraj, has fought in battles with damane on both sides, he is tactically prepared to fight Asha’man. Despite Rand’s victories in the mountains, this battle is terribly lopsided, around forty thousand to six thousand, and those six thousand have been fighting in the mountains for days. Rand’s losses are extreme, at least 500 for Bashere and 700 for Rand, with multiple Asha’man lost as well. The loses for the Seanchan are far greater, but they had many more to lose.
    • Bashere urges Rand to turn back. They’ve successfully pushed the Seanchan back to Ebou Dar and inflicted severe casualties. With Traveling, their retreat will be swift and relatively safe. Rand pridefully takes up Callandor, screaming “Come against me, if you dare! I am the storm! Come if you dare, Shai’tan! I am the Dragon Reborn!” and calling down thousands of lightning bolts… indiscriminately, killing many of his own people before Bashere knocks Callandor from his hand. This is Rand’s first real defeat. The Seanchan also consider the encounter to be a defeat, the second defeat of the Ever Victorious Army on these shores. Even Miraj is killed.
  • The Maidens are furious to have been left out of another battle. They beat Rand, which he sees as a fair response.
  • Rand seeks Cadsuane’s services as his advisor. Rand is not happy about needing her help and tries everything he can to bully her into submission before finally, begrudgingly, allowing Cadsuane to set some terms: she will not need to swear an oath to him and he will be polite when speaking to her. Cadsuane reveals that Callandor is a flawed sa’angreal: it has no limit on it and it makes the taint stronger. Rand can only safely use it by linking with two women and allowing one of them to direct the circle.
  • Rand and Min are apparently attacked in Rand’s apartments in Cairhien by a man wielding the One Power.
    • Rand has Fedwin Morr, one of the first to accept his amnesty and learn to channel and one of the very few people people Rand trusts with his life, protect Min while he hunts the attacker.
    • Dashiva, Gedwyn, and Rochaid betray Rand; Dashiva attacks him and Rand only survives by creating a protective cocoon pulled from Lews Therin. The men flee.
    • Rand hunts for them for hours but can’t find anything. When he finally returns to Min he finds that Fedwin has gone mad and has mentally reverted to childhood. Min had to talk him into playing with wooden blocks so he wouldn’t pull down the walls to build a tower to keep her safe in. Rand euthanizes Fedwin in just the saddest scene ever, even surprising Taim at how hard Rand has become.
    • Dashiva, Gedwyn, Rochaid, Torval, and Kisman all deserted. Taim is particularly surprised and enraged to hear that Dashiva is among them.
    • Min notes that Rand still does not cry even after the heartbreaking scene with Fedwin.
• Tar Valon
  • Elaida is still submitting to Alviarin, signing many proclamations seemingly meant to turn the Ajah against each other. Elaida is made to swear a daily litany to obey Alviarin and is given a harsh beating for disobeying. Masaana didn’t order Alviarin to do this, but she’s allowing it.
  • The Tower has become very antagonistic and paranoid, with sisters of a particular Ajah staying together and fearing to walk in another Ajah’s territory.
  • Seaine and Pevara are continuing to hunt for the Black Ajah. They’ve been using the oath rod to force sisters to swear to obey them, then swear that they are not a Darkfriend if they can. They promise to free them if they’re not Darkfriends, but they don’t specify when.
  • While trying to find Darkfriends, Seaine and Pevara accidentally discover that Zerah is one of those sent from Salidar to ensure that everyone knows about the Red’s plot with Logain. From her, they learn the names of all ten sent. When Zerah is commanded to admit that this is a “lie,” we learn that a person caught between two conflicting oaths will choke and die if the paradox isn’t resolved.
  • Four other sisters – Doesine, Yukiri, Saerin, and Talene – discover Seaine and Pevara with the oath rod. Through their discussion, Talene is accidentally revealed to be a Darkfriend.
  • Toveine Gazal, who is leading the attack on the Black Tower, finally arrives… and is quickly incapacitated. Logain apparently bonds her: she cannot disobey him and has no desire to do so. In frustration, she turns her anger on Elaida, vowing to make Elaida pay… if Logain ever lets her.
• Perrin
  • Perrin is continuing his secret mission from the last book: to put a leash on the Prophet. He leads a tripartite camp of Mayener Winged Guard, Aiel, and Two Rivers men. He has Grady and Neald, two Asha’man, with him. Berelain leads the Mayeners. Tensions are still high, due in part to the Aiel Wise Ones treating the Aes Sedai as apprentices.
  • Perrin saves Morgase’s party from some Dragonsworn. She’s going by the name Maighdin and nobody seems to have recognized her yet, though Perrin does recognize Gill. Balwer is still around and is helping Perrin, who quickly sees his worth. Faile takes Maighdin’s party on as servants.
  • Elyas joins Perrin’s camp, having heard of his status from wolves and figuring that Perrin might need a friend and ally. Elyas proves useful quickly by giving Perrin some marriage advice on the expectations of Saldaean women which works really well. As Elyas explains, Faile has been interpreting Perrin’s gentle treatment as a lack of faith in her, as though she’s too weak for him to speak his mind. Recall too that Elyas used to be a Warder and his Aes Sedai – Rina – is still alive. She has blurred their bond so he can’t really tell where she is or what she’s feeling, but they know that the other is alive. If he’s recognized, it’ll be a problem.
  • Faile has a group of Cairhienin followers of ji’e’toh serving her. They call their society “Cha Faile,” the falcon’s talon.
  • Faile comes up with a scheme to continue flying the banner of Manetheran as camouflage: everyone will assume that he’s just some upstart trying to resurrect Manetheran, not seeing his true mission.
  • Masema is in Abila. The Wise Ones and Aes Sedai want Perrin to kill him, but Rand wants Perrin to try to use him.
  • Perrin meets with Alliandre, Queen of Ghealdan. Recall that the Prophet has been pressuring Ghealdan quite a lot and there’s been some turnover lately; Alliandre doesn’t have much power. Perrin makes kind of an ass of himself while meeting with her, but she swears an oath of fealty to him anyways and claims to have interpreted Perrin’s awkwardness as shrewd maneuvering.
  • Perrin meets with Masema, who seems – and smells – insane. Masema refuses to Travel, as he refuses to be touched by the One Power, but he agrees to (mundanely) travel to meet with the “The Lord Dragon, may his name be blessed by the Light.”
  • While Perrin is meeting with Masema, Cha Faile learns that Masema has met with the Seanchan. Faile needs to warn him, but before she can, her group is waylaid by Shaido, who are out capturing more slaves for Sevanna. Faile, Maighdin, Alliandre, Arrela, Lacile, Bain, and Chiad are all taken gai’shain. Berelain might have escaped, which would make her the only hope of warning Perrin that Masema has met with the Seanchan.
• Egwene
  • Egwene starts the book off in much the same place as last book: she’s still Amyrlin, but with very little power as the Hall – particularly Romanda and Lelaine – vie for control.
  • Egwene’s forces are severely slowed by the winter and she is struggling to pay for everything, but the army has grown to greater than 30,000 and they are approaching Tar Valon. She considers Bryne one of her most trustworthy allies.
  • A coalition of Andorans and Murandians have formed an army to Egwene’s north and are approaching. Egwene secretly arranges a meeting with their representatives. When Romanda and Lelaine find out, they’re furious, and each demand to lead the meeting.
  • At the meeting, Egwene surprises the Hall by not passing the conversation to either Romanda or Lelaine. She still isn’t really seen as the Amyrlin, as most of the conversation is still directed past her to the Sitters, but she is the one who speaks. She proclaims that the book of novices is open to any women who wish to be tested, regardless of age. At this meeting, she finds time to talk, briefly, with Talmanes, convincing him not to keep the Band in Murandy and become mercenaries.
  • After the meeting, Egwene knows that Romanda and Lelaine will act, but she doesn’t give them the chance. She calls a formal meeting of the hall and immediately makes a motion to declare war on Elaida. The motion passes, after which Egwene reveals that the Law of War states “As one set of hands must guide a sword, so the Amyrlin Seat shall direct and prosecute the war by decree. She shall seek the advice of the Hall of the Tower, but the Hall shall carry out her decrees with all possible speed, and for the sake of unity, they shall and must approve any decree of the Amyrlin Seat regarding prosecution of the war with the greater consensus.” This doesn’t give Egwene unlimited power, but it does solidify her authority to direct the war.
  • Egwene declares that they will rest for one month, as advised by Bryne. Then, they will begin the siege of Tar Valon.
  • One month later, Egwene notes that they have more novices now than ever, nearly one thousand. One of them, a grandmother named Sharina, has a potential above even that of Nynaeve.
  • In the last scene of the book, Egwene has a full circle of thirteen create a Gateway ten paces tall and a hundred paces wide to begin the siege of Tar Valon.
• Mat
  • Mat’s presumably still waiting for Dorothy to steal his slippers, buried under a building in Ebou Dar. (Or, more likely, shipped back to Seanchan.)

The Slog

Alright, much like Egwene’s forces trudging through mud in the late-come winter, we’re in the slog now. Before I get into our main point for today, I’d like to briefly address “the slog,” as I’ve been hearing that books eight through ten are “the slog” for quite a while now.

Last time, while discussing A Crown of Swords, I mentioned that book seven is the first book in The Wheel of Time that feels like a “middle book” to me. I didn’t mean that it was unenjoyable or poorly written, just that it didn’t feel as much like an atomic, self-contained narrative as the books that came before it.

This is much more pronounced in The Path of Daggers. Our main perspective characters – Elayne, Perrin, Egwene, and Rand – hardly interact at all. There’s no mad dash to a climax that somehow pulls all of our threads together: each of our POVs has their own climax and none of them feel as spectacular as we’ve come to expect (though there is a serious laconic thrill in Egwene’s simple “It has begun” as her massive Gateway, created by a full circle of thirteen, opens to begin the siege of Tar Valon.) Plenty of stuff – good stuff! – happened in this book, but it really doesn’t work as a stand alone story at all.

But, it really didn’t move slowly at all, at least for me. I loved the description of circles and the channeling on the Bowl of the Winds. Rand’s week-long campaign against the Seanchan in Ebou Dar was brutal. We have our first real example of a man succumbing to the madness of the taint. We learned what’s up with Callandor. Egwene is formally at war with Elaida and the siege is set to begin next book. This is all thrilling stuff. I seriously tried to rationalize combining the posts for this book and the next just so I could jump right into Winter’s Heart without delay.

The Path of Daggers is also pretty short, at least for The Wheel of Time. Only 31 chapters and a prologue, where most of the other books have had 50+ chapters. The chapters aren’t really longer either: the book is just a couple hundred pages shorter than we’ve come to expect. It was easily the quickest read for me (this post would have come out a few days sooner but I got a COVID booster that knocked me out for a while.)

For someone reading these books now, after they’ve all been published, it’s hardly a “slog” at all – I’m just excited to start the next book! But, I imagine that it would’ve been extremely frustrating to read this in October of 1998, then wait until November of 2000 for the next book. To some computers at the time, that’s almost a century in the past! (I’m actually a bit surprised to learn that most Wheel of Time books only took a year or two to write, that seems pretty impressive considering how long and dense this series is.) So, to a new reader in 2022, it feels fine! But, historically, I totally get calling this a “slog.”

With that out of the way, let’s get to The Point.

The Point: The Heights

On the heights, the paths are paved with daggers.

Old Seanchan saying, first published in Seeds of Shadow, chapter 1 of The Shadow Rising

Once again, our main point is mostly in the title.

Taken metaphorically, as intended, this proverb refers to the precariousness of power. We see this in the rise and fall of queens (well, they’re not all queens, but that sounds better.)
Taken literally, cheekily, Rand wages an intense week-long campaign against the Seanchan through the mountains between Illian and Ebou Dar.

Let’s discuss these separately.

The Heights: Rise and Fall of Queens

Back when I talked about The Fires of Heaven, my theme was “high and low.” The point there was that we saw both the top and bottom of society: the powerful and the powerless. This time around, things are different: a throneless queen isn’t the same as a poor farmer. She may be as poor, but she’s still inherently important. Likewise, success for a queen might not always look like an increase in wealth and power. We’re not talking about the 99% versus the 1% here: we’re talking about the 0.01%

Elayne

Continuing what she started in the last book, we really get to see Elayne take charge in The Path of Daggers. From one perspective, this is just a practical matter: Aviendha would struggle to lead the Aes Sedai and the Kin because she’s Aiel and because she’s not as powerful as Nynaeve or Elayne. Nynaeve has some real experience leading and she’s plenty powerful, but she just got married and broke her block, so she’s pretty distracted. She’s also slowly being forced to confront the fact that what worked for her as Wisdom as Emond’s Field might not work on people accustomed to far greater power. Given how much support we saw Perrin get, I also have to wonder whether Nynaeve was getting a lot more support than she realized. So, that leaves Elayne, as our heroes certainly aren’t going to leave things up to anyone else.

From another perspective, I think we’re also seeing Elayne start to psych herself up for becoming queen of Andor. Elayne taking a leadership position began shortly after she first learned that her mother is “dead.” She always knew that she would be queen some day, but once it became a matter of days, rather than some day, it became much more real to her.

and… it goes pretty well! Wrangling the Aes Sedai, Atha’an Miere, and Kin isn’t completely smooth, but Elayne does as good a job as I could imagine, under the circumstances.

We also see her finally enter Caemlyn and express her claim to the throne to Dyelin. I’m actually not sure whether Elayne fully grasps how critical that short conversation with Dyelin was. Pay close attention to Dyelin’s words here:

Elayne turned slowly to face Dyelin Taravin, as the golden-haired woman walked the length of the Grand Hall. Dyelin had been one of her mother’s earliest supporters in her own quest for the throne. There was more gray in her hair than Elayne remembered, more lines at the corners of her eyes. She was still quite beautiful. A strong woman. And powerful as friend or foe.

She stopped at the foot of the dais, looking up. “I’ve been hearing for two days that you were alive, but I didn’t really believe it until now. You’ve come to accept the throne from the Dragon Reborn, then?”

“I claim the throne by my own right, Dyelin, with my own hand. The Lion Throne is no bauble to be accepted from a man.” Dyelin nodded, as at self-evident truth. Which it was, to any Andoran. “How do you stand, Dyelin? With Trakand, or against? I have heard your name often on my way here.”

“Since you claim the throne by your own right, with.” Few people could sound as dry as she. Elayne sat down on the top step, and motioned the older woman to join her. “There are a few obstacles, of course,” Dyelin went on as she gathered her blue skirts to sit. “There have been several claimants already, as you may know. Naean and Elenia, I have securely locked up. On a charge of treason that most people seem willing to accept. For the time being. Elenia’s husband is still active for her, though quietly, and Arymilla has announced a claim, the silly goose. She’s getting support of a kind, but nothing that need worry you. Your real worries—aside from Aiel all over the city waiting for the Dragon Reborn to come back—are Aemlyn, Arathelle, and Pelivar. For the moment, Luan and Ellorien will be behind you, but they might go over to those three.”

A very succinct list, delivered in a tone suitable for discussing a possible horse trade. Naean and Elenia she knew about, if not that Jarid still thought his wife had a chance at the throne. Arymilla was a goose to believe she would be accepted, whatever her support. The last five names were worrying, though. Each had been as strong a supporter of her mother, as had Dyelin, and each led a strong House.

“So Arathelle and Aemlyn want the throne,” Elayne murmured. “I can’t believe it of Ellorien, not for herself.” Pelivar might be acting for one of his daughters, but Luan had only granddaughters, none near old enough. “You spoke as if they might unite, all five Houses. Behind whom?” That would be a dire threat.

Smiling, Dyelin propped her chin in her hand. “They seem to think I should have the throne. Now, what do you intend about the Dragon Reborn? He hasn’t been back here in some time, but he can pop out of the air, it seems.”

Elayne squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, but when she opened them, she was still sitting on the steps of the dais in the Grand Hall, and Dyelin was still smiling at her. Her brother fought for Elaida, and her half-brother was a Whitecloak. She had filled the Palace with women who might turn on one another at any moment, not to mention the fact that one was a Darkfriend, maybe even Black Ajah. And the strongest threat she faced in claiming the throne, a very strong one, stood behind a woman who said she supported Elayne. The world was quite mad. She might as well add her bit.

“I mean to bond him my Warder,” she said, and went on before the other woman could more than blink in astonishment. “I also hope to marry him. Those things have nothing to do with the Lion Throne, however. The very first thing I intend . . .”

As she went on, Dyelin began to laugh. Elayne wished she knew whether it was from delight over her plans or because Dyelin saw her own path to the Lion Throne being made smooth. At least she knew what she faced, now.

Chapter 28, Crimsonthorn

What Elayne notes as dryness in Dyelin’s tone – of course she’s not going to accept the throne from Rand, or any man – really seem significant here.

Juxtapose Elayne’s rise to power with Egwene’s. Egwene is gutsy as hell, but that – in itself – isn’t what’s propelled her to the heights. Egwene’s guts enable her to perform some spectacular schemes to force other women into an impossible position: she’s playing a very aggressive game of chess, but she’s winning by the rules. Romanda doesn’t fall in line out of awe for Egwene’s force of will, Romanda was defeated, legally, by Egwene’s superior maneuvering, and Egwene will only continue to stay in power so long as she can maintain this advantage. I don’t want to overstress this point, but it’s important to understand that though Egwene has a forceful will, that is not, in itself, what’s keeping her where she is.

Elayne, on the other hand, is leading by nobility and grace. In the last book, she made a decent argument to the Aes Sedai, but I don’t think they acquiesced because of a legal need: they could’ve come up with any number of excuses to ignore or distract from Elayne’s argument. Despite her age, they saw Elayne conducting herself as a woman worthy of respect and obedience. Nynaeve and Elayne had been acting as though being granted the shawl was sufficient to be treated as Aes Sedai, which is exactly what the other Aes Sedai were afraid of. Imagine if, instead of Elayne confidently asserting her argument, the exact same points had been made by Thom trying to protect her. I truly doubt that the Aes Sedai would have seen the merit of his points and fallen in line behind Elayne. What brought them in line was Elayne’s queenly manner.

Likewise, with Dyelin, that Elayne didn’t seem to fully grasp that she was interviewing for the position with Dyelin – that she was asserting her will without any scheming or guile – was actually to her benefit. As we can see from Elayne’s thoughts, she isn’t making a calculated political decision to claim the throne by her own authority in order to avoid the appearance of being Rand’s puppet and her plans for what to do with Rand in the future sound almost ludicrously entitled.

Good, that’s what Dyelin was looking for.

I think that Dyelin was testing whether Elayne had the right manner for an Andoran queen. If Elayne had entered without respecting tradition, perhaps dressed as a queen and sitting in the throne, then Dyelin would have seen her as a child. If Elayne had wavered or schemed in response to Dyelin’s question, “You’ve come to accept the throne from the Dragon Reborn, then?,” then Dyelin would have seen her as a child. It’s the “Lion Throne,” not the “Spoiled Princess Throne” or “Dragon Reborn’s Girlfriend’s Throne.” If Dyelin had seen anything other than a Lion, I think she would have made her own claim for the throne, for the good of Andor.

Fortunately, Elayne is a lion at heart. Entitled, arrogant, and fierce. Not all characteristics I’d necessarily consider virtuous, but they’re exactly what’s expected of an Andoran queen. Elayne’s not sure what Dyelin’s laughter at her plans for Rand means, but I think I know: she saw that Elayne’s going to make this happen, regardless of how ridiculous it sounds.

But, let’s get back to Egwene for a minute.

Egwene

Alright, so, Egwene’s stuff this book was pretty awesome, and I’m going to try to take it seriously, but it’s really hard not to constantly imagine her great victory in invoking the Law of War as Jar Jar proposing a vote to grant her emergency powers to construct a clone army.

Seriously though, she played a real close game with this and any number of things could have gone wrong. Forget Rand’s iron resolve, Egwene’s got nerves of steel.

“A question of war cannot be shelved,” Egwene said in a carrying tone. “It must be answered before any question called after it. That is the law.”

Quick, questioning glances passed between Sitters.

“Is that so?” Janya said finally. Squinting thoughtfully, she twisted on her bench to address the woman next to her. “Takima, you remember everything you read, and I’m sure I remember you saying you had read the Law of War. Is that what it says?”

Egwene held her breath. The White Tower had sent soldiers to any number of wars over the last thousand years, but always in response to a plea for help from at least two thrones, and it always had been their war, not the Tower’s. The last time the Tower itself actually declared war had been against Artur Hawkwing. Siuan said that now only a few librarians knew much more than that there was a Law of War.

Short, with long dark hair to her waist and skin the color of aged ivory, Takima often reminded people of a bird, tilting her head in thought. Now she looked like a bird that wanted to take flight, shifting on her seat, adjusting her shawl, unnecessarily straightening her cap of pearls and sapphires. “It is,” she said finally, and clamped her mouth shut.

Egwene quietly started breathing again.

“It seems,” Romanda said in a clipped tone, “that Siuan Sanche has been teaching you well. Mother. How speak you in support of declaring war? On a woman.” She sounded as if she were trying to push something disagreeable out of her way, and she dropped onto her seat waiting for it to depart.

Egwene nodded graciously anyway, and rose. She met the Sitters’ gazes one by one, levelly, firmly. Takima avoided her eyes. Light, the woman knew! But she had not said anything. Would she hold silent long enough? It was too late to change plans.

“Today we find ourselves confronted by an army, led by people who doubt us. That army would not be there otherwise.” Egwene wanted to put passion into her voice, to let it burst out, but Siuan had advised utter coolness, and finally she had agreed. They needed to see a woman in control of herself, not a girl being ridden by her heart. The words came from her heart, though. “You heard Arathelle say she did not want to become entangled in Aes Sedai affairs. Yet they were willing to bring an army into Murandy and stand in our way. Because they are not certain who we are, or what we are about. Did any of you feel that they truly believe you are Sitters?” Malind, round-faced and fierce-eyed, shifted on her bench among the Greens, and so did Salita, twitching her yellow-fringed shawl, though her dark face managed to hide any expression. Berana, another Sitter chosen in Salidar, frowned thoughtfully. Egwene did not mention the reaction to her as Amyrlin; if that thought was not already in their heads, she did not want to plant it.

“We’ve listed Elaida’s crimes to countless nobles,” she went on. “We’ve told them we intend to remove her. But they doubt. They think that maybe—maybe—we are what we say. And maybe there’s a trick in our words. Perhaps we are only Elaida’s hand, weaving some elaborate scheme. Doubt leaves people floundering. Doubt gave Pelivar and Arathelle the nerve to stand before Aes Sedai and say, ‘You cannot go further.’ Who else will stand in our way, or interfere, because they aren’t certain, and uncertainty leads them to act in a cloud of confusion? There’s only one way for us to dispel their confusion. We have already done everything else. Once we declare ourselves at war with Elaida, there can be no doubts. I don’t say that Arathelle and Pelivar and Aemlyn will march away as soon as we do so, but they and everyone else will know who we are. No one will dare again to show doubt so openly when you say you are the Hall of the Tower. No one will dare stand in our way, meddling in the affairs of the Tower through uncertainty and ignorance. We have walked to the door and put our hands on the latch. If you are afraid to walk through, then you all but ask the world to believe that you are nothing but Elaida’s puppets.”

She sat, surprised at how calm she felt. Beyond the two rows of Sitters, sisters outside stirred, putting their heads together. She could imagine the excited murmurs that Aledrin’s ward blocked off. Now if only Takima kept her mouth shut long enough.

Romanda grunted impatiently, and stood only long enough to say, “Who stands for declaring war against Elaida?” Her gaze returned to Lelaine, and her cold, smug smile returned. It was clear what she considered important, once this nonsense was done with.

Janya rose immediately, the long brown fringe on her shawl swaying. “We might as well,” she said. She was not supposed to speak, but her set jaw and sharp gaze dared anyone to call her down. She was not normally so forceful, but as usual, her words nearly tripped over one another. “Mending what the world knows won’t be any harder than it is for this. Well? Well? I don’t see the point of waiting.” On the other side of Takima, Escaralde nodded and stood.

Moria all but bounded to her feet, frowning down at Lyrelle, who gathered her skirts as if to rise, then hesitated and looked at Lelaine questioningly. Lelaine was too busy frowning across the carpets at Romanda to notice.

Among the Greens, Samalin and Malind stood together, and Faiselle looked up with a jerk. A stocky, copper-skinned Domani, Faiselle was not a woman startled by much, but she looked startled now, her square face swinging wide-eyed from Samalin to Malind and back.

Salita rose, carefully adjusting the yellow fringe of her shawl and just as carefully avoiding Romanda’s sudden frown. Kwamesa stood, and then Aledrin, drawing Berana up by her sleeve. Delana twisted completely around on her bench, peering at the sisters outside. Even in silence the spectators’ excitement communicated itself in constant shifting, heads going together, eyes darting toward the Sitters. Delana rose slowly, both hands pressed to her middle, looking ready to sick up on the spot. Takima grimaced and stared at her hands on her knees. Saroiya studied the other two White Sitters, tugging at her ear the way she did when deep in thought. But no one else moved to stand.

Egwene felt bile rising in her own throat. Ten. Just ten. She had been so sure. Siuan had been so sure. Logain alone should have been enough, given their ignorance of the law involved. Pelivar’s army and Arathelle refusing to admit that they were Sitters should have primed them like a pump.

“For the love of the Light!” Moria burst out. Rounding on Lyrelle and Lelaine, she planted her fists on her hips. If Janya’s speaking had gone against custom, this tied it in a knot. Displays of anger were strictly forbidden in the Hall, but Moria’s eyes blazed, and her Illianer accent was thick with it. “Why do you wait? Elaida did steal the stole and the staff! Elaida’s Ajah did make Logain a false Dragon, and only the Light knows how many other men! No woman in the history of the Tower did ever deserve this declaration more! Stand, or hold silent from now about your resolve to remove her!”

Lelaine did not quite stare, but by her expression you might have thought she had found herself attacked by a sparrow. “This is hardly worth a vote, Moria,” she said in a tight voice. “We will speak later about decorum, you and I. Still, if you need a demonstration of resolve. . . .” With a sharp sniff, she rose, and gave a jerk of her head that pulled Lyrelle to her feet like strings. Lelaine seemed surprised that it did not pull up Faiselle and Takima, too.

Far from standing, Takima grunted as if struck. Disbelief bright on her face, she ran her eyes along the women on their feet, obviously counting. And then did it again. Takima, who remembered everything the first time.

Egwene breathed deep in relief. It was done. She could hardly believe. After a moment, she cleared her throat, and Sheriam actually jumped.

Green eyes as big as teacups, the Keeper cleared her throat, too. “The lesser consensus standing, war is declared against Elaida do Avriny a’Roihan.” Her voice was none too steady, but it sufficed. “In the interest of unity, I ask for the greater consensus to stand.”

Faiselle half-moved, then clenched her hands in her lap. Saroiya opened her mouth, then closed it without speaking, her face troubled. No one else stirred.

“You won’t get it,” Romanda said flatly. The sneer she directed across the pavilion at Lelaine was as good as a statement of why she, at least, would not stand. “Now that little business is finished, we can go on with—”

“I don’t think we can,” Egwene cut in. “Takima, what does the Law of War say about the Amyrlin Seat?” Romanda was left with her mouth hanging open.

Takima’s lips writhed. The diminutive Brown looked more than ever a bird wishing to take flight. “The Law . . . .” she began, then took a deep breath and sat up straight. “The Law of War states, ‘As one set of hands must guide a sword, so the Amyrlin Seat shall direct and prosecute the war by decree. She shall seek the advice of the Hall of the Tower, but the Hall shall carry out her decrees with all possible speed, and for the sake of unity, they shall. . . .” She faltered, and had to visibly force herself to go on. “. . . they shall and must approve any decree of the Amyrlin Seat regarding prosecution of the war with the greater consensus.”

A long silence stretched. Every eye seemed to be goggling. Turning abruptly, Delana vomited onto the carpets behind her bench. Kwamesa and Salita both climbed down and started toward her, but she waved them off, plucking a scarf from her sleeve to wipe her mouth. Magla and Saroiya and several others still seated looked as though they might follow her example. No others who had been chosen in Salidar, though. Romanda appeared ready to bite through a nail.

“Very clever,” Lelaine said at last in clipped tones, and after a deliberate pause, added, “Mother. Will you tell us what the great wisdom of your vast experience tells you to do? About the war, I mean. I want to make myself clear.”

“Let me make myself clear, too,” Egwene said coldly. Leaning forward, she fixed the Blue Sitter sternly. “A certain degree of respect is required toward the Amyrlin Seat, and from now on, I will have it, daughter. This is no time for me to have to unchair you and name a penance.” Lelaine’s eyes crept wider and wider with shock. Had the woman really believed everything would continue as before? Or after so long not daring to show more than the tiniest backbone, had Lelaine simply believed she had none? Egwene really did not want to unchair her; the Blues would almost certainly return the woman, and she still had to deal with the Hall on matters that could not be convincingly disguised as part of the war against Elaida.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a smile pass across Romanda’s lips at seeing Lelaine set down. Small profit if all she did was raise Romanda’s stock with the others. “That holds for everyone, Romanda,” she said. “If need be, Tiana can find two birches as easily as one.” Romanda’s smile vanished abruptly.

“If I may speak, Mother,” Takima said, rising slowly. She attempted a smile, but she still looked decidedly ill. “I myself think you have begun well. There may be benefits to stopping here a month. Or longer.” Romanda’s head jerked around to stare at her, but for once, Takima did not appear to notice. “Wintering here, we can avoid worse weather farther north, and also plan carefully—”

“There’s an end to delays, daughter,” Egwene cut in. “No more dragging our feet.” Would she be another Gerra, or another Shein? Either was still possible. “In one month, we will Travel from here.” No; she was Egwene al’Vere, and whatever the secret histories would say of her faults and virtues, the Light only knew, but they would be hers, not copies of some other woman’s. “In one month, we will begin the siege of Tar Valon.”

This time, the silence was broken only by the sound of Takima weeping.

Chapter 19, The Law

The goal was to invoke the Law of War to give herself total authority over matters relating to the war, but that only works if there is a war, which the Aes Sedai really didn’t want. She couldn’t bully them into declaring war as they’d simply refuse. She also couldn’t declare war unanimously. Egwene isn’t a US president who might be able to get away with saying something on television or sending orders directly to the military without giving Congress time to respond until it’s too late. Even if Bryne was willing to obey an order to make an overt act of war without the approval of the Hall, it would take too long to mobilize: Egwene would be deposed before anything happened that couldn’t be taken back. Even sending a declaration of war in a letter to Elaida would be pretty easy to undo.

And, again, the Aes Sedai really didn’t want to actually go to war. They wanted to make a show of force, but most of the rebels are still hoping for some way to resolve things peacefully. If not for Siuan’s involvement, they’d still be lounging about in Salidar and they’re still looking for any excuse to delay and pray for a miracle. They’re likely hoping that arriving with Bryne’s soldiers will simply force the White Tower to meet them on more equal terms: perhaps the Aes Sedai in Tar Valon would be willing to lay all the blame on Elaida if it meant resolving matters peacefully. The rebel Aes Sedai likely don’t know about Alviarin’s scheming to turn the Ajah against each other, which would probably make a peaceful resolution more difficult.

So, Egwene had to manipulate the Hall into agreeing to a war they didn’t want. Well, what do the Aes Sedai fear even more than war with the Tower?

Here’s where Egwene strikes: she knew that the Andoran and Murandian coalition wouldn’t see them as truly representing the Aes Sedai. The White Tower and the ageless faces are so tied up in the identity of the Aes Sedai that Egwene could easily predict how she would be received. All she had to do was apply a bit of rhetoric to ensure that the Hall didn’t interpret this as a lack of respect for Egwene but for them all.

Of course, that wouldn’t likely be quite enough. The Hall really didn’t want to go to war. Here, Egwene plays what I think is the most precarious card she has: relying on the Hall’s arrogance… and a fair bit of luck. If Romanda or Lelaine were more familiar with the Law of War, or if Takima had spoken up, then Egwene’s plan would have fallen apart: the Hall never would have agreed to war if they knew that Egwene would have full authority to it. If they hadn’t been so arrogant, they would have been more cautious. Egwene was clearly up to something, but Romanda was so confident that she could simply put Egwene in her place and so impatient to get on to the real work of solidifying her own position that she didn’t stop to consider what was happening. Romanda clearly thought that she could simply agree to the war, solidify her own position, then undo it, either by simply undoing the decision in the privacy of the Hall, before anyone else could find out, or by dragging her feet and waiting for a chance for peace before the real conflict could begin. Or, perhaps Romanda, personally, wouldn’t mind a war run by Romanda.

But Egwene won. She’s in charge now. Note that she declares that they’ll wait the full month, which is what Bryne recommended. In general, Egwene is perfectly willing to trust Bryne’s expertise when it comes to waging war: Egwene decides on the strategic goals herself, but she knows to leave the logistics and presumably the tactics to Bryne. As we’ll discuss shortly, Rand does not share this wisdom, treating Bashere as more of an advisor than a general.

So, those are our rising queens, but how do the heights treat those who stumble?

Alliandre, Faile, and Morgase

Alright, Faile isn’t a queen… but she would be if Tenobia and Bashere both died, so close enough.

So, before we talk about Alliandre, we need a brief refresher on Ghealdan. We’ve been hearing about “war and madness” in Ghealdan since Padan Fain first arrived in Emond’s Field in The Peddler, chapter three of The Eye of the World. It’s literally the scene where we first started talking about false Dragons. Later, but still in book one, we learn that Logain was the false Dragon in Ghealdan.

Ghealdan and Amadicia are also where Masema, “The Prophet,” found a following. We’ve been hearing about Alliandre’s difficulties in containing the Prophet’s armies since the prologue to book five, The Fires of Heaven. The first time we see Alliandre, Nynaeve is waiting to meet with Masema to ask for a boat.

The skinny guard, if such he was—he had no weapon; perhaps he was not trusted either—seemed to have no objection when she moved to where she could see through the doorway. The man and woman inside could not have been more different. Masema had shaved even his topknot, and his coat was plain brown wool, heavily wrinkled but clean, although his knee-high boots were scuffed. Deep-set eyes turned his permanently sour look to a scowl, and a scar made a pale triangle on his dark cheek, a near mirror image of Ragan’s, only more faded with age and a hair nearer the eye. The woman, in elegantly gold-embroidered blue silk, was short of her middle years and quite lovely despite a nose perhaps too long for beauty. A simple blue net cap gathered dark hair spilling almost to her waist, but she wore a broad necklace of gold and firedrops with a matching bracelet, and gemmed rings decorated nearly every finger. Where Masema seemed poised to rush at something, teeth bared, she bore herself with stately reserve and grace.

“. . . so many follow wherever you go,” she was saying, “that order flies over the wall when you arrive. People are not safe in themselves or their property—”

“The Lord Dragon has broken all bonds of law, all bonds made by mortal men and women.” Masema’s voice was heated, but intense, not angry. “The Prophecies say that the Lord Dragon will break all chains that bind, and it is so. The Lord Dragon’s radiance will protect us against the Shadow.”

“It is not the Shadow that threatens here, but cutpurses and slipfingers and headcrackers. Some who follow you—many—believe that they can take what they wish from whoever has it without payment or leave.”

“There is justice in the hereafter, when we are born again. Concern with things of this world is useless. But very well. If you wish earthly justice”—his lip curled contemptuously—“let it be this. Henceforth, a man who steals will have his right hand cut off. A man who interferes with a woman, or insults her honor, or commits murder will be hung. A woman who steals or commits murder will be flogged. If any accuses and finds twelve who will agree, it will be done. Let it be so.”

“As you say, of course,” the woman murmured. Aloof elegance remained on her face, but she sounded shaken. Nynaeve did not know how Ghealdanin law ran, but she did not think it could be so casual as that. The woman took a deep breath. “There is still the matter of food. It becomes difficult to feed so many.”

“Every man, woman and child who has come to the Lord Dragon must have a full belly. It must be so! Where gold can be found, food can be found, and there is too much gold in the world. Too much concern with gold.” Masema’s head swung angrily. Not angry with her, but in general. He looked to be searching for those who concerned themselves with gold so he could unleash fury on their heads. “The Lord Dragon has been Reborn. The Shadow hangs over the world, and only the Lord Dragon can save us. Only belief in the Lord Dragon, submission and obedience to the word of the Lord Dragon. All else is useless, even where it is not blasphemy.”

“Blessed be the name of the Lord Dragon in the Light.” It had the sound of a rote reply. “It is no longer simply a matter of gold, my Lord Prophet. Finding and transporting food in sufficient—”

“I am not a lord,” he broke in again, and now he was angry. He leaned toward the woman, spittle on his lips, and though her face did not change, her hands twitched as if they wanted to clutch her dress. “There is no lord but the Lord Dragon, in whom the Light dwells, and I am but one humble voice of the Lord Dragon. Remember that! High or low, blasphemers earn the scourge!”

“Forgive me,” the begemmed woman murmured, spreading her skirts in a curtsy fit for a queen’s court. “It is as you say, of course. There is no lord save the Lord Dragon, and I am but a humble follower of the Lord Dragon—blessed be the name of the Lord Dragon—who comes to hear the wisdom and guidance of the Prophet.”

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Masema was suddenly cold. “You wear too much gold. Do not let earthly possessions seduce you. Gold is dross. The Lord Dragon is all.”

Immediately she began plucking rings from her fingers, and before the second was off, the weedy fellow scurried to her side, pulling a pouch from his coat pocket and holding it for her to drop them in. The bracelet and necklace followed as well.

Nynaeve looked at Uno and raised an eyebrow.

“Every penny goes to the poor,” he told her in a low voice that barely reached her ear, “or somebody who needs it. If some merchant hadn’t bloody given him her house, he’d be in a bloody stable, or one of those huts outside the city.”

“Even his food comes as a gift,” Ragan said just as quietly. “They used to bring him dishes fit for a king, until they learned he just gave away everything but a little bread, and soup or stew. He hardly drinks wine, now.”

Nynaeve shook her head. She supposed it was one way to find money for the poor. Simply rob anyone who was not poor. Of course, that would just make everyone poor in the end, but it might work for a time. She wondered if Uno and Ragan knew the whole of it. People who claimed they were collecting money to help others often had a way of letting a good bit stick in their own pockets, or else they liked the power that spreading it about gave them, liked it far too much. She had better feeling for the man who freely gave one copper from his own purse than for the fellow who wrested a gold crown from someone else’s. And less for fools who abandoned their farms and shops to follow this . . . this Prophet, with no idea where their next meal would come from.

Inside the room, the woman curtsied to Masema even more deeply than before, spreading her skirts wide and bowing her head. “Until I once again have the honor of the Prophet’s words and counsel. The name of the Lord Dragon be blessed in the Light.”

Masema waved her away absently, already half forgotten. He had seen them in the hall, and was looking at them with as close to pleasure as his dour face could come. It was not very close. The woman swept out, not even appearing to see Nynaeve or the two men. Nynaeve sniffed as the weedy fellow in the red coat waved anxiously for them to come in. For someone who had just given up her jewelry on demand, that woman managed a fine queenly air.

… skipping Nynaeve’s meeting with Masema

“At least he didn’t try to steal my jewelry,” she said. “Who was that fool woman who gave him hers?” She could not have much sense if she had become one of Masema’s followers.

“That,” Uno said, “was Alliandre, Blessed of the Light, Queen of bloody Ghealdan. And a dozen more titles, the way you southlanders like to pile them up.”

Nynaeve stubbed her toe on a cobblestone and almost fell. “So that is how he does it,” she exclaimed, shaking off their helping hands. “If the queen is fool enough to listen to him, no wonder he can do whatever he wants.”

“Not a fool,” Uno said sharply, flashing a frown at her before returning to watching the street. “A wise woman. When you bloody find yourself straddling a wild horse, you bloody well ride it the way it’s bloody going, if you’re smart enough to pour water out of a bloody boot. You think she’s a fool because Masema took her rings? She’s flaming smart enough to know he might demand more if she stopped wearing jewelry when she comes to him. The first time, he went to her—been the other way round, since—and he did take the rings right off her flaming fingers. She had strands of pearls in her hair, and he broke the strings pulling them out. All of her ladies-in-waiting were down on their knees gathering the bloody things off the floor. Alliandre even picked up a few herself.”

“That doesn’t sound so wise to me,” she said stoutly. “It sounds like cowardice.” Whose knees were shaking because he looked at her? a voice in her head asked. Who was sweating herself silly? At least she had managed to face up to him. I did. Bending like a willow isn’t the same as cowering like a mouse. “Is she the queen, or isn’t she?”

The two men exchanged those irritating looks, and Ragan said quietly, “You don’t understand, Nynaeve. Alliandre is the fourth to sit on the Light Blessed Throne since we came to Ghealdan, and that’s barely half a year. Johanin wore the crown when Masema began attracting a few crowds, but he thought Masema a harmless madman and did nothing even when the crowds grew and his nobles told him he had to put an end to it. Johanin died in a hunting accident—”

“Hunting accident!” Uno interjected, sneering. A hawker who happened to be looking at him dropped his tray of pins and needles. “Not unless he didn’t know one bloody end of a flaming boar spear from the other. Flaming southlanders and their flaming Game of Houses!”

“And Ellizelle succeeded,” Ragan took up. “She had the army dispersing the crowds, until finally there was a pitched battle and it was the army that was chased off.”

“Bloody poor excuse for soldiers,” Uno muttered. She was going to have to speak to him about his language again.

Ragan nodded agreement, but went on with what he had been saying. “They say Ellizelle took poison after that, but however she died, she was replaced by Teresia, who lasted a full ten days after her coronation, just until she had a chance to send two thousand soldiers against ten thousand folk who had gathered to hear Masema outside Jehannah. After her soldiers were routed, she abdicated to marry a rich merchant.” Nynaeve stared at him incredulously, and Uno snorted. “That is what they say,” the younger man maintained. “Of course, in this land, marrying a commoner means giving up any claim to the throne forever, and whatever Beron Goraed feels about having a pretty young wife with royal blood, I hear he was dragged from his bed by a score of Alliandre’s retainers and hauled to Jheda Palace for a wedding in the small hours of the morning. Teresia went off to live on her husband’s new country estate while Alliandre was being crowned, all before sunrise, and the new queen summoned Masema to the palace to tell him he would not be troubled again. Inside two weeks she was calling on him. I do not know whether she really believes what he preaches, but I know she took the throne of a land on the edge of civil war, with Whitecloaks ready to move in, and she stopped it the only way she could. That is a wise queen, and a man could be proud to serve her, even if she is a southlander.”

Encounters in Samara, chapter 39 of The Fires of Heaven

That Alliandre is still queen at all is pretty goddamn impressive, and we would be wise not to make Nynaeve’s mistake in reading weakness or cowardice in Alliandre’s oath to Perrin.

“Under the Light,” she said firmly, looking up at him, “I, Alliandre Maritha Kigarin, pledge my fealty and service to Lord Perrin Aybara of the Two Rivers, now and for all time, save that he chooses to release me of his own will. My lands and throne are his, and I yield them to his hand. So I do swear.”

For an instant there was a silence broken only by Gallenne’s gasp and the muted thud of his winecup hitting the rug.

Then Perrin heard Faile, once more whispering so softly no one next to her could have made out her words. “Under the Light, I do accept your pledge and will defend and protect you and yours through battle’s wrack and winter’s blast and all that time may bring. The lands and throne of Ghealdan, I give to you as my faithful vassal. Under the Light, I do accept. . . .” That must have been the Saldaean manner of accepting. Thank the Light she was too busy concentrating on him to see Berelain nodding at him furiously, urging the same. The pair of them looked almost as if they had expected this! Annoura, though, with her mouth hanging open, appeared as stunned as he, like a fish who had just seen the water vanish.

“Why?” he asked gently, ignoring Faile’s frustrated hiss and Berelain’s exasperated grunt alike. Burn me, he thought, I’m a bloody blacksmith! Nobody swore fealty to blacksmiths. Queens did not swear fealty to anyone! “I’ve been told I’m ta’veren; you might want to reconsider this in an hour.”

“I hope you are ta’veren, my Lord.” Alliandre laughed, but not in amusement, and gripped his hands even more tightly, as though fearful he might pull away. “With all my heart, I hope it. I fear nothing less will save Ghealdan. I all but reached this decision as soon as the First told me why you are here, and meeting you only confirmed me in it. Ghealdan needs protection I cannot give, so duty demands I find it. You can give it, my Lord, you and the Lord Dragon Reborn, blessed be his name in the Light. In truth, I would swear directly to him if he were here, but you are his man. Swearing to you, I also swear to him.” Drawing a deep breath, she forced out another word. “Please.” She smelled desperate, now, and her eyes shone with fear.

Chapter 10, Changes

Alliandre is a wise and scrappy queen making a measured, necessary decision here. As far as queens go, Alliandre certainly doesn’t appear to be particularly successful or powerful, but only from an amateur’s point of view.

Not unlike Morgase, now Maighdin, who just continues to fall but hasn’t given up yet. She willingly became a servant to Faile and risks being close to one of Rand’s closest friends. Bear in mind that Morgase really doesn’t know Rand or Perrin at all. Even if she believes that Rand truly does mean for Elayne to become queen, she has no reason to believe that this is out of simple love. She has to assume that it’s some scheme, likely to treat Elayne as a puppet to sidestep the issue of a man ruling Andor. Or, perhaps to Compel Elayne, subjecting Elayne to the same humiliation that Rahvin forced on her.

With this in mind, Morgase must also assume that Rand would have her secretly killed if he could, as manipulating a teenager would surely be easier than manipulating an established queen. She’s taking a terrible risk in staying near Perrin, particularly after he recognizes Gill. Yet, she does so without hesitation, as this puts her in a better position to aid her daughter and her kingdom.

Of course, we already knew that Faile was tough, but I was still impressed by her reaction to being taken gai’shain by the Shaido. Naked, surrounded by dead friends, and enslaved by the Shaido, Faile’s first thought is “Light, if only someone had managed to escape with the news of Masema! To carry word of her capture to Perrin, of course, but she could escape somehow. The other was more important.”

“Light, someone had to warn Perrin about Masema. Someone. It seemed a final blow. Here she was, shivering and gritting her teeth to keep them from chattering, trying her best to pretend that she was not stark naked and bound, on her way to an uncertain captivity. All of that, and she had to hope that that slinking cat—that pouting trull!—Berelain, had managed to escape so she could reach Perrin. Alongside everything else, that seemed the worst of all.”

So, Alliandre, Morgase, and Faile are all taken gai’shain by the Shaido together. A queen, a former queen, and a potential heir to a throne, all naked, shivering, and enslaved. Fallen, but likely not for long.

On War

Marching and Eating

Before we talk about Rand in particular, I’d like to dive into something I first noticed last book, when Egwene first met with Bryne to discuss the war: Robert Jordan really did his research for portraying war correctly, particularly when it comes to logistics. I’ve occasionally heard friends mention that he drew his inspiration from his two tours in Vietnam, and I’m sure that’s true, but that doesn’t even come close to covering it. First off, he was a helicopter gunner, not a general. Second, the Vietnam War was very different from the sort of pre-industrial warfare we’re talking about in The Wheel of Time. Forget helicopters, we don’t even have trains.

I find myself extremely lucky that Bret Devereaux just finished a three-part series on logistics that I highly recommend. Now, I’m certainly not an authority on military history myself, but I do find the topic fascinating, and I spend a lot of time studying it as an amateur. I am, after all, doing this series on The Wheel of Time for my own understanding, to help in my own creative projects (which aren’t anywhere near ready to share yet.)

With this in mind, I want to call out just a few of the amazing details I’ve seen in Jordan’s writing and a few things that we should keep in our minds when discussing Egwene’s siege of Tar Valon and Rand’s week-long campaign against the Seanchan in Ebou Dar. You really should just go read Devereaux’s series if you have the time, as much of it is applicable here, but I’ll just hit what I see as the essential points for us here.

So, basically, armies need a lot of food for both the humans and the horses. Again, read Devereaux if you want all the details, but for our purposes, we can say that a soldier needs around 1kg of food and 3kg of water per day. They can eat a bit less for a while, but not indefinitely. Soldiers can usually find water (and a good general will plan to only march where water can be found) so we can mostly ignore water for this book, but we’d need to consider it for fighting in the Three-Fold Land. Variety is also a concern: soldiers can live on hardtack for a while, but they’ll need meat and vegetables eventually.

Note that this is actually pretty close to Perrin’s estimate.

He truly had been trying to avoid notice as much as possible, traveling by back roads and the smallest country paths when they could not keep to the forests. A futile effort, really. The horses could be pastured wherever there was grass, but they required at least some grain, and even a small army had to buy food, and a lot of it. Every man needed four pounds a day, in flour and beans and meat. Rumors must have been floating all over Ghealdan, though with luck, no one suspected who they were. Perrin grimaced. Perhaps they had not, until he went and opened his mouth. Still, he would have done nothing differently.

Chapter 8 – A Simple Country Woman

This might not seem like a lot of food to carry, but bear in mind that The Wheel of Time takes places without industrial technology, so we can’t rely on trains to move supplies over land. Of course, Traveling can change this, but let’s keep it simple for now. Supplies can also be loaded on to wagons, but wagons aren’t trains. Wagons only function properly on good, wide roads, and even then they’re pretty slow and take up a lot of road space. Wagons also break all the time, requiring maintenance. The more wagons you add, the slower the army is going to move. The slower the army moves, the more days it’ll need rations for. You eventually reach a point where adding more wagons is counterproductive, the tyranny of the wagon.

Also bear in mind that both war horses and draft animals need to eat. More wagons means more animals. Even without wagons, cavalry need war horses, which are bigger and require far more food than smaller horses. Draft animals may be able to get most of their food from grazing, but only if they’re given time to graze and only if there’s available land for grazing (which won’t be the case if you stay still for too long.) If you want to march quickly, you don’t want to spend too much time grazing. War horses simply can’t get all of their nutrition from grazing, so you’ll need to carry fodder with you as well, which will be too heavy to carry and will take up most of the space on your wagons. Again, Perrin actually noted this in the quote I just provided.

A marching load is roughly 40-55kg, but that includes everything that needs to be carried. Depending on your soldiers’ kit, they might only have space for about ten days worth of food. After that, they’ll need to forage.

Oh, and just to be sure we’re on the same page, animals need to rest. They actually need to rest a fair bit more than humans do. Cavalry will generally need multiple horses, both for rest and to replace injured mounts. Pack animals cannot march for as many days as humans can, so you’ll need to give them extra rest.

Also bear in mind that marching isn’t very fast. A single person could travel quite a long distance on foot in a day, but marching won’t come anywhere near that. Marching when it’s dark is dangerous, for people, animals, and wagons, so you can’t start too early and you can’t go too late. That might sound silly, but a broken leg on a human might take you out of the war and a broken leg on a horse is generally fatal (seriously, horses are shockingly delicate animals.)

As the army needs to travel on roads, roads aren’t all that wide, and camping is much safer in a circle than it is as a long column, the army can’t start or stop marching all at once. In the morning, it might take hours for the last person to start marching. In the evening, the first person to stop marching might need to do so hours before it’s dark. Armies also need the occasional break and they need to move at a measured pace.

The exact pace for an army, then, is a factor of the army’s size and how many wagons it has. A small army will move much quicker than a big army and there are some natural caps on what’s possible before adding more wagons won’t help. This probably goes without saying, but cavalry makes this much worse: you can’t just use the war horses to help carry supplies (and even if you did it’d be counterproductive.)

Rand cleverly bypasses much of this problem by keeping his campaign short, just about a week, and by using Traveling to move quickly. The text specifically mentions that they still have wagons, but Traveling frees Rand’s infantry from needing to stay on proper roads or near the wagons at all, as they can Travel away from the wagons to fight then Travel back to resupply.

Robert Jordan really calls attention to this amazing development in his description of the Legion of the Dragon’s kit. Their only weapons are a crossbow and a short sword. Semaradrid and Weiramon see this as ridiculously foolish: infantry are useless and doubly so if they don’t have pikes. What they don’t know is that Rand doesn’t plan on having the Legion fight on terrain suitable for cavalry. Horses really don’t do well in forests or jagged ground. Note, by the way, that this disdain for infantry is a real thing that shows up in historical sources: the people who wrote books were wealthy, wealthy people had horses, therefore infantry are poors. Of course, a good horse really is a fantastic advantage, but it makes sense for someone like Weiramon to overestimate this advantage, given that he’s a wealthy fool.

Egwene, on the other hand, can’t ignore the issue of supplying her army, and we see her continually struggle with this. The march to Tar Valon is not quick and her army is not small. While Rand only brought around six thousand with him to Ebou Dar, Bryne’s army has more than 30,000 combatants in chapter 15, and probably continues to grow over time.

Also consider that soldiers aren’t the only people who travel with an army. Even in an army where the intent is for everyone to be directly involved in the war effort, plenty of other people travel with an army. Again, Robert Jordan specifically mentions that even in Bryne’s camp – which is separate from the Aes Sedai’s camp – there are plenty of people, including women, performing various tasks. Siuan can’t do everyone’s laundry. In a particularly well organized army, the soldiers can take over many of the non-military tasks, but maintaining this level of discipline is challenging. Depending on the culture, general, conflict, morale, etc., the number of non-combatants in an army might even match the number of combatants. In some contexts, soldiers may want to bring their wives or even children with them. People of means will want servants. Cavalry will want people to care for their animals. Prostitution, often hidden within another profession (such as launderer) is also common (and, when willing, certainly preferable to turning soldiers loose on a local population.)

Which brings me to the last bit of logistics I want to cover here before moving on to Rand’s campaign: foraging.

Foraging

Again, Devereaux has an entire post on foraging that I recommend, but in brief, when an army runs out of food – which, recall, might only take about ten days as an absolute limit – they’ll need to resupply, which requires foraging. Again, Robert Jordan explicitly calls this out in multiple places, which is just astounding detail for a fantasy author.

At one farm, [Egwene] saw some of Lord Bryne’s foragers with a wagon. That they were his was plain as much by the way he eyed them and nodded as by the lack of a white pennant. The Band always flaunted itself; aside from the banners, some had of late taken to wearing a red scarf tied around the arm. Half a dozen cattle and maybe two dozen sheep lowed and baaed under the guard of men on horseback, and other men toted sacks from barn to wagon past a slump-shouldered farmer and his family, a sullen lot in dark rough woolens. One of the little girls, wearing a deep bonnet like the others, had her face pressed to her mother’s skirts, apparently crying. Some of the boys had their fists clenched, as if they wanted to fight. The farmer would be paid, but if he could not really spare what was taken, if he had had a mind to resist close on twenty men in breastplates and helmets, those burned farms would have given him pause. Quite often Bryne’s soldiers found charred corpses in the ruins, men and women and children who had died trying to get out. Sometimes the doors and windows had been sealed up from outside.

Egwene wondered whether there was any way to convince the farmers and villagers that there was a difference between the brigands and the army. She wanted to, very much, but she did not see how, short of letting her own soldiers go hungry until they deserted. If the sisters could see no difference between the brigands and the Band, there seemed no hope for the country folk. As the farm dwindled behind them, she resisted the urge to twist around in her saddle and look back. Looking would change nothing.

Chapter 12 – A Morning of Victory

Note here, in case it was unclear, that “foraging” is a thing done by armies against local populations. They’re not out picking berries and hunting deer, they’re taking food from the local farmers. (Even if they do some harvesting, as Roman armies occasionally did, they’re still harvesting food from farmers’ fields.) The specifics differ from culture to culture and on whether the local people are seen as the enemy or not, but the basic fact remains: the army is taking supplies from farmers.

To be entirely clear, it’s important to understand at least the basics of economics for a pre-industrial farmer. The essential unit of production for these people is not money, it’s food and clothing. Coin is useful, but only for niche needs: metal tools, maybe some dyes or higher quality textiles, perhaps some spices, etc. In a pinch, money can be used to make up for some loss of food or clothing, but consider the market forces at play here: who are the peasants going to buy this food from? A neighbor? Well, that only works if their neighbor has extra, which won’t be the case if the whole region was foraged. A market? How far away is the nearest market and is it safe to travel there, given that there’s a war going on? Also bear in mind that coin is easily stolen, whereas grain takes a bit more effort to carry away. Having a lot of coin lying around isn’t as safe as having a full stock of grain.

How much food is there to spare? Well, they don’t have electric refrigerators, so spoilage is a real concern. Food stores will be built up and depleted yearly or seasonally, depending on the region. Generally speaking, farmers aren’t going to have a lot of surplus over a year and there’s no good way to replenish a depleted supply even if it happens early in the year: losing half your store the week after harvest is just as deadly as losing all of it a couple months before harvest.

Egwene understands all of this and she’s actually doing her best to be ethical. Granted, this is – at least in part – just a good move for the Aes Sedai, as their reputation is important, but we can also see that Egwene cares about this on an emotional level. This is actually one of several points where Egwene and Rand are very similar people: when Rand first rose to power in Tear, one of his first concerns was to feed the starving and make the legal code more fair to peasants. Whenever possible, Rand denies the fifth to the Aiel, and even the fifth is actually pretty merciful, all considering. Likewise, Egwene fights viciously against her “daughters” who would like to stop paying soldiers.

Consider, for a moment, what that would actually mean. There are a lot of ways to “pay” soldiers, and it doesn’t always involve money flowing from the leaders to the soldiers. Looting, which isn’t fundamentally different from foraging really, is another way to “pay” soldiers. Simply allow the soldiers to take what they want from the local population and from anyone who’s conquered. Egwene feels bad for this farm family, who we know is probably going to lose a few members to starvation because of her army, but she could have let her soldiers steal, rape, and kill in lieu of payment. Nonetheless, it’s still a brutal situation to be in.

That month of waiting – in winter, mind you – before the siege of Tar Valon could also have been quite costly for the local population. Bear in mind that foraging is itself a military operation subject to the same limitations we’ve been talking about here. So long as an army is mobile, they can always forage new people, and if they’re trying to be friendly, they can take only the bare minimum to keep moving. When an army needs to stand still, there’s a cap on how far out they can ride to gather supplies. Bryne even mentions at one point that he needs to worry about his foragers being attacked, which is a very realistic concern.

In this particular case, I think we can assume that Traveling opens up Egwene’s options a fair bit. As a rebel army, their diplomatic options are a bit limited, but I imagine that even rebel Aes Sedai can secure more credit than most. Egwene may have also been able to lean on Andor and Murandy a bit by virtue of having a large army present: there’s some historical precedent for leaders accepting supplies in exchange for staying clear of cities or leading the local population alone.

The one thing I didn’t really see covered by Robert Jordan is quartering. It seems that the entire army is living in a camp. Where is this camp? This region has been hit hard by recent disasters, so perhaps the local population has been severely diminished, but it still seems a bit unlikely to me that a force this large has space to just camp. We’re talking about 30,000 combatants alone. Just throwing out a number, I’d guess that there are a good 50,000 total people in the combined Bryne + Aes Sedai camp. Bear in mind that the Band is also camping fairly close by, on top of the Andorian and Murandian armies. This is just a massive number of people, are they quartering in farm houses and fields, or is there some huge, uninhabited region? I mean, quartering was so prevalent that banning it is the US’s third constitutional amendment, so I’m a little surprised that this isn’t more explicitly addressed. Maybe I just missed it?

I wouldn’t necessarily call this an omission, as it’s easy to come up with potential explanations. Perhaps they are quartering in farm houses, many of which are already abandoned due to the hard times in this region, and it just wasn’t explicitly mentioned. Perhaps there’s a large uninhabited area along the borders of Andor and Murandy and Bryne’s soldiers are sufficient organized to construct their own winter camps (we see some mention of Bryne’s troops preparing and constructing camps like this, so this is my guess.)

In any case, the attention to detail in Robert Jordan’s writing is absolutely stunning, and the attention to detail for logistics is particularly impressive to me. A modern person might have firsthand knowledge about horses, farming, or blacksmithing, but even a vet isn’t going to have firsthand experience in the logistics of a pre-industrial army. This took some real research. I’m also very glad for resources like acoup, which allow amateur history and literature fans like myself to actually appreciate all of this detail.

Alright, that was kind of a long tangent, but I really wanted to talk about it some time, and given that The Path of Daggers is a really short Wheel of Time book, I figured that now was the best time. On the other hand, I’m up to 14,858 words now, and I still haven’t gotten to Rand’s campaign or any of the other things I wanted to mention, so let’s get back to it.

The Point: Rand’s First Defeat

In some ways, Rand’s campaign against the Seanchan in Ebou Dar was daring and clever, but he also made some real amateur mistakes.

Rand’s plan was pretty good. Using Traveling to move rapidly through the mountains is genius, and it won Rand some major battles. This isn’t solely about the surprise either, this tactic will likely continue to be useful even after it become common knowledge, at least for a while. It takes time for new methods of war to find their place and generals who built their careers in a world without Traveling aren’t going to adjust quickly.

Moreover, Rand leans into this ability hard with the Legion of the Dragon. As some of the elites point out, infantry doesn’t hold up well against cavalry charge, particularly if they don’t have pikes. But, Rand doesn’t plan on moving the Legion where cavalry can charge. Using Traveling and tree cover, the Legion are able to attack from forests and rough terrain, where horses can’t easily run. What’s extra genius about this is that Rand also understands the problems in training people to become soldiers. Learning to wield a sword or shoot a bow in combat takes a long time. Shooting a bow on horseback is particularly challenging; note that we’ve seen multiple people express awe at how proficient the Two Rivers people are at shooting on horseback, which is something they start learning very young. Shooting a crossbow on foot isn’t necessarily easy, but it doesn’t require as much training, which allows new recruits to the Legion of the Dragon (who, recall, are mostly men with no ability to channel, who may or may-not have any experience with weapons) to become effective soldiers quickly, regardless of background.

The first five days of Rand’s campaign, as he harries the Seanchan through the mountains, go shockingly well.

But, Rand makes a couple of huge mistakes, and they’re kind of obvious.

First, he really doesn’t seem to understand strategy very well. As the Dragon Reborn, and a powerful ta’veren, Rand has grown accustomed to big, all-or-nothing moves. His focus is always on Tarmon Gai’don, so all other concerns are trifles to be swept up in a chapter or two. With that in mind, of course his strategic goal here was to push the Seanchan back to the sea. He wanted to wipe them off the board so he could get back to focusing on what really matters, and he was willing to use Callandor to force this outcome if necessary. But, all he really needed here was to stop the Seanchan from moving on Illian.

His defeat here was actually foreshadowed pretty hard when he thinks to himself “He did not know how many had died for his mistakes, but none for his pride. He was sure of that.” It’s really too bad that Mat wasn’t here to talk some sense into Rand. Not only would Mat’s vast military experience have been a help, but he might have been able to get through to Rand on a personal level.

Even Lews Therin tries to caution Rand, and that’s before the battle at Ebou Dar even begins. “No plan of battle survives first contact.” Rand is warned again when Dashiva warns him that saidin is strange here. Rand’s only chance at victory is in the overwhelming superiority of the Asha’man, any disruption in their channeling could prove devastating. They’re outnumbered nearly ten to one and the enemy has a city to fall back to.

Still, Rand goes forward with the attack. Once again, his actual plan is a good one: split up into columns to surround the enemy. Rand heeds Bashere’s advice that “simple plans were best.” What Rand doesn’t seem to grasp is that “Everything is very simple in War, but the simplest thing is difficult.” (from chapter seven of On War.)

Rand underestimates the Seanchan and their raken. Rand’s forces do not take the Seanchan by surprise, and Rand’s losses are immense. We know that Bashere lost about 500 and Rand about 700. I’m not sure whether this accounts for all losses, or if there are more to report, but regardless, that’s bad.

Bear in mind that combat before firearms wasn’t as lethal, moment for moment, as combat after firearms. Rand’s soldiers expected to go home, they did not expect to die. Even the men in the first ranks didn’t plan on being cannon fodder. With Asha’man healers, these soldiers all expected to go home. They knew that some people wouldn’t, but they expected good odds. It’s impossible to get a perfect number of losses before soldiers will break and flee, but Devereaux looks at some historical examples to give a very rough estimate that “pre-modern armies generally seem to have fallen apart at or before 10% losses.” Well, 1,200 out of 6,000 is already 20% and Rand was still massively outnumbered.

Side note, the actual fatalities could be much higher than this, but much of the killing takes place after one side breaks, as the victors run them down. Rand probably doesn’t need to worry much about this, as the Asha’man can probably cover a retreat or just Travel everyone to safety.

Also note the overall mood of Rand’s armies. They’ve been fighting frequently for several days now, so they must be tired. Despite its size, this army is comprised of multiple cultures that hate each other. They’re not just fighting Taraboners, who the Seanchan quickly defeated and brought into their own armies, and actual fucking monsters. They’re fighting enslaved women who can channel. Their only real hope is men who can channel, assuming they don’t go mad and turn on their allies.

Morale is probably high. They’re fighting under the Dragon Reborn and they’re fighting against foreign invaders from another continent bent on dominating the world. The problem is cohesion. They’re fighting with hated foes and men who can channel. Even the Asha’man have their faith in Rand shaken by his perceived weakness and that he doesn’t even notice that saidin seems wrong near Ebou Dar.

Let me be clear here: even before Rand called down a cataclysmic lightning storm down on his own soldiers, he wasn’t going to be able to hold the ranks together much longer. Everyone knew this but him. Callandor may have magnified the taint, but Rand was committed to getting his men killed by his pride before he even reached for it.

Bashere does his best to explain this to Rand. “Part of fighting is knowing when to go, and it’s time.” “You aren’t thinking straight. That was a good plan, in the beginning, but their general thinks fast. He spread out to blunt our attacks before we could fall on him spread out marching. We’ve cost him even so, it seems, and he now he’s pulling everything together. You won’t catch him by surprise. He wants us to come at him. He’s out there waiting for it. Asha’man or no Asha’man, if we stand nose-to-nose with this fellow, I think maybe the vultures grow fat and nobody rides away.”

But, Rand doesn’t listen.

“Nobody stands nose-to-nose with the Dragon Reborn,” Rand growled. “The Forsaken could tell him that, whoever he is. Right, Flinn? Dashiva?” Flinn nodded uncertainly. Dashiva flinched. “You think I can’t surprise him, Bashere? Watch!” Pulling the long bundle loose, he stripped away the cloth covering, and Rand heard gasps as raindrops glistened on a sword seemingly made of crystal. The Sword That Is Not a Sword. “Let’s see if he’s surprised by Callandor in the hands of the Dragon Reborn, Bashere.”

Cradling the translucent blade in the crook of his elbow, Rand rode Tai’daishar forward a few steps. There was no reason to. He had no clearer view from there. Except . . . Something spidered across the outer surface of the Void, a wriggling black web. He was afraid. The last time he had used Callandor, really used it, he had tried to bring the dead back to life. He had been sure he could do anything, then, anything at all. Like a madman thinking he could fly. But he was the Dragon Reborn. He could do anything. Had he not proved it time and again? He reached for the Source through the Sword That Is Not a Sword.

Saidin seemed to leap into Callandor before he touched the Source through it. From pommel to point, the crystal sword shone with a white light. He had only thought the Power filled him before. Now he held more than ten men could have unaided, a hundred, he did not know how many. The fires of the sun, searing through his head. The cold of all of the winters of all the Ages, eating into his heart. In that torrent, the taint was all the midden heaps in the world emptying into his soul. Saidin still tried to kill him, tried to scour away, burn away, freeze away, every scrap of him, but he fought, and he lived for a moment more, and another moment, another. He wanted to laugh. He could do anything!

Once, holding Callandor, he had made a weapon that searched out Shadowspawn through the Stone of Tear, struck them dead with hunting lightning wherever they stood or ran or hid. Surely there must be something like that, to use against his enemies here. But when he called to Lews Therin, only anguished whimpers answered, as if that disembodied voice feared the pain of saidin.

With Callandor blazing in his hand—he did not remember raising the blade overhead—he stared at the hills where his enemies hid. They were gray now, with thickening rain, and dense black clouds blocking the sun. What was it he had told Eagan Padros?

“I am the storm,” he whispered—a shout in his ears, a roar—and he channeled.

Overhead, the clouds boiled. Where they had been the black of soot, they became midnight, the heart of midnight. He did not know what he was channeling. So often, he did not, in spite of Asmodean’s teaching. Maybe Lews Therin was guiding him, in spite of the man’s weeping. Flows of saidin spun across the sky, Wind and Water and Fire. Fire. The sky truly did rain lightning. A hundred bolts at once, hundreds, forked blue-white shafts stabbing down as far as he could see. The hills before him erupted. Some flew apart under the torrent of lightning like kicked anthills. Flames sprang up in thickets, trees turning to torches in the rain, flames racing through olive orchards.

Something struck him hard, and he realized he was picking himself up from the ground. The crown had fallen from his head. Callandor still blazed in his hand, though. Vaguely, he was aware of Tai’daishar scrambling to his feet, trembling. So they thought to strike back at him, did they.

Shoving Callandor high, he screamed at them. “Come against me, if you dare! I am the storm! Come if you dare, Shai’tan! I am the Dragon Reborn!” A thousand sizzling lightning bolts hailed down from the clouds.

Again something struck him down. He tried to fight up again. Callandor, still shining, lay a pace from his outstretched hand. The sky shattered with lightnings. Suddenly, he realized that the weight atop him was Bashere, that the man was shaking him. It must have been Bashere who had flung him down!

“Stop it!” the Saldaean shouted. Blood fanned down his face from a split across his scalp. “You’re killing us, man! Stop!”

Rand turned his head, and one stunned look was enough. Lightnings flashed all around him, in every direction. A bolt stabbed down onto the reverse slope, where Denharad and the armsmen were; the screams of men and horses rose. Anaiyella and Ailil were both afoot, trying vainly to quiet mounts that reared, eyes rolling, trying to rip reins free. Flinn was bending over someone, not far from a dead horse with legs already stiff.

Rand let saidin go. He let it go, but for moments it still flowed into him, and lightning raged. The flow into him dwindled, tailed off and vanished. Dizziness swept through him in its place. For three more heartbeats, two of Callandor shone where they lay on the ground, and lightning fell. Then, silence except for the rising drum of the rain. And the screams from behind the hill.

Slowly Bashere climbed off of him, and Rand rose unaided on tottering legs, blinking as his sight returned to normal. The Saldaean watched him as he might have a rabid lion, fingering his sword hilt. Anaiyella took one look at Rand on his feet and collapsed in a faint; her horse dashed away, reins dangling. Ailil, still fighting her rearing animal, spared few glances for Rand. Rand let Callandor lie where it was for the moment. He was not sure he dared pick it up. Not yet.

Flinn straightened, shaking his head, then stood silently as Rand went unsteadily to stand beside him. The rain fell on Jonan Adley’s sightless eyes, bulging as if in horror. Jonan had been one of the first. Those screams from behind the hill seemed to slice through the rain. How many more, Rand wondered. Among the Defenders? The Companions? Among . . . ?

Rain thick as a blanket hid the hills where the Seanchan army lay. Had he hurt them at all, striking out blindly? Or were they still waiting out there with all their damane? Waiting to see how many more of his own he could kill for them.

“Set whatever guard you think we need,” Rand told Bashere. His voice was iron. One of the first. His heart was iron. “When Gregorin and the others reach us, we’ll Travel to where the carts are waiting as fast as we can.” Bashere nodded without speaking, and turned away in the rain.

I’ve lost, Rand thought dully. I’m the Dragon Reborn, but for the first time, I’ve lost.

Suddenly, Lews Therin raged up inside him, sly digs forgotten. I’ve never been defeated, he snarled. I am the Lord of the Morning! No one can defeat me!

Rand sat in the rain, turning the Crown of Swords in his hands, looking at Callandor lying in the mud. He let Lews Therin rage.

Chapter 24 – A Time for Iron

So, that’s a pretty good segue into talking about madness, but I still have one point to cover here.

Was this a defeat for Rand? For the Seanchan?

At the very end of the chapter, we learn that Miraj – the Captain-General of the Seanchan forces – dies in the battle. I don’t know the Seanchan’s military titles, but this probably makes him the army leader of all Seanchan on this continent, perhaps of all Seanchan armies. This is also the second “defeat” the Seanchan suffered on these shores. The “Ever Victorious Army” really needs a new name.

But… what does this actually mean for the Seanchan’s big-picture strategic goals? They lost a lot of soldiers, but many of those were from Tarabon, and there’s presumably a whole empire’s worth of soldiers back home. Bear in mind that these forces are just the forerunners, defeated by the Horn of Valere and regrouped by Suroth. Their primary mission seems to be scouting and preparing a landing for future waves. Rand pushed them out of the mountains, but they were only there in preparation to attack Illian, which they really don’t need. The loss of some damane is a bit of a concern, but there are plenty of marath’damane to capture here and sul’dam generally outnumber damane anyway, so this really isn’t a big deal.

The Seanchan still hold multiple ports that they can use to land future armies. They still hold significant land, from Tanchico to Ebou Dar. This is still an impressive victory for Suroth, personally, and it sets the Seanchan up quite well for future invasions.

Well, what about the impact on morale?

On the one hand, this was a heavy blow, as the catastrophic loss of troops hinders the Seanchan’s image of perfection… but they already lost that in The Great Hunt. We don’t know much about how the Seanchan work at home, but it sure seems like the Empress has near absolute control over her country (I actually have a suspicion that the crystal throne might be a ter’angreal capable of Compulsion, but that’s wild speculation at this point.) But, honestly, I don’t think this matters here. The Seanchan’s defeat by men who can channel is actually fantastic propaganda for them.

I mean, think about it. They’re not going to report back that they were “defeated by a rag-tag coalition led by an arrogant young man,” they’re going to report that the savages across the sea, who were already known to revere marath’damane, also integrate men who can channel into their armies, even if that occasionally means calling down a storm on themselves. These savages don’t even value their own lives! We must free their people and organize them before their corrupt rulers hand the world to the Dark One. People are willing to tolerate tremendous losses when the cause is just, and Rand’s lightning storm just gave them some killer motivation.

So, really, this wasn’t much of a defeat at all for the Seanchan. It’s possible that Suroth will be punished, but the empire won’t likely feel much pain.

Rand, on the other hand, suffered a major setback. Everyone who witnessed his storm is going to remember the Dragon Reborn going mad and starting to break the world. He already lost a handful of Asha’man. Rand’s legitimacy derives from his perceived greatness as the Dragon Reborn. Losing even one battle, particularly in such a spectacular way, hurts him. It gives his enemies propaganda to turn against him and it will give his allies pause in riding with him in the future. Bashere had to physically stop Rand from killing them all. Bashere, one of the only people who Rand trusted, might look at him a bit differently now.

Trying to explain this away as Callandor being weird isn’t going to fly with most people, and again, it’s not even really the point. This isn’t the first time Rand has gone a bit crazy during a battle either, remember when he wandered around long after the battle was over at Cairhien?

Rand also has a tendency to form secret plans that nobody else knows about and conduct them without explaining himself. Until now, it’s generally worked. You can get away with a lot if it works. This time it didn’t. What will people think the next time Rand goes sneaking around, making plans he refuses to tell anyone?

Bear in mind that none of these mistakes are really surprising for Rand, personally, but they’re shocking for someone in his position. In this setting, kings and generals are trained for these jobs since birth. They have Aes Sedai advisors. Saldaeans generally bring their wives with them, and almost any person in a position of so much power would have at least a handful of friends and trusted allies. Rand doesn’t have any of these things. He was forced into this position with little warning, he really can’t trust many people, and Cadsuane probably sees this defeat as a necessary step in Rand’s development. The only really stupid thing Rand did here was to not lean on Bashere a bit more.

What works for Rand when he’s acting alone doesn’t work so well when he’s acting as a leader. His various duels with the Forsaken have all gone pretty well, but a one-on-one duel isn’t the same as a battle. It’s easier to lose your footing on a path paved with daggers.

Okay, yeah, this post is getting kind of long. Let’s move on to the next topic: madness.

Madness

So, we’re starting to see some more signs of poor mental health in Rand. We’ve reached a point where I think we can still say that he isn’t going magically mad, but he’s definitely suffering some severe personality ailments.

This time around, we don’t need to speculate much, as Rand’s decline is spelled out pretty clearly, with very deliberate choice of words.

Cadsuane felt a rising thrill of possibility. If she had had any doubts that Sorilea wanted to feel her out, they were gone. And you did not feel out someone in this manner unless you hoped for some agreement. “Do you believe a man must be hard?” she asked. She was taking a chance. “Or strong?” By her tone, she left no doubt she saw a difference.

Again Sorilea touched the tray; the smallest of smiles might have quirked her lips for an instant. Or not. “Most men see the two as one and the same, Cadsuane Melaidhrin. Strong endures; hard shatters.”

Cadsuane drew breath. A chance she would have scoured anyone else for taking. But she was not anyone else, and sometimes chances had to be taken. “The boy confuses them,” she said. “He needs to be strong, and makes himself harder. Too hard, already, and he will not stop until he is stopped. He has forgotten how to laugh except in bitterness; there are no tears left in him. Unless he finds laughter and tears again, the world faces disaster. He must learn that even the Dragon Reborn is flesh. If he goes to Tarmon Gai’don as he is, even his victory may be as dark as his defeat.”

Sorilea listened intently, and kept silent even after Cadsuane finished. Those green eyes studied her. “Your Dragon Reborn and your Last Battle are not in our prophecies,” Sorilea said at last. “We have tried to make Rand al’Thor know his blood, but I fear he sees us as only another spear. If one spear breaks in your hand, you do not pause to mourn before taking up another. Perhaps you and I aim at targets not too far apart.”

Chapter 12 – New Alliances

“Strong endures; hard shatters.” An old proverb even in our Age. But, what does Rand think about strength? We see his thoughts in the very next chapter.

“Did I ask for opinions?” Rand snapped harshly. Babble became silence, except for the crack of cloaks and banners flapping in the wind. Suddenly expressionless faces regarded him, more than one going gray. They did not know he held the Power, but they knew him. Not all of what they knew was truth, but it was just as well they believed. “You will come with me, Gregorin,” he said in a more normal voice. Still hard, though. Steel was all they understood; go soft, and they would turn on him.

Chapter 13 – Floating Like Snow

The chapter even ends with the words “Fire and ice, and death was coming. But he was steel. He was steel.”

So… yeah, Sorilea and Cadsuane have it exactly right. As Cadsuane notes, the Aiel perspective on this is slightly different from her own. The Aiel noted a long while back, when they first made Aviendha stay by him, that Rand needs something to tie them to the Aiel, to see them as kin and not as a tool. Sorilea’s goal is to make that “remnant of a remnant” as large as possible. Cadsuane’s goal is very similar, but it’s a bit more general: keep Rand from going (mundanely) mad from the burden of his duty. “Death is lighter than a feather, duty heavier than a mountain” sounds great, but even Lan got married to Nynaeve.

Let’s look at a quote from the chapter after that.

Rand cut in. “What do you mean, saidin was worst there?” Dashiva moved, eyeing Morr oddly, reaching as though to seize the young man. Rand fended him off roughly. “What do you mean, Morr?”

Morr stared, mouth shut tight, running his thumb up and down the length of his sword hilt. The heat inside of him seemed ready to burst out. There really was sweat beading on his face now. “Saidin was . . . strange,” he said hoarsely. His words came in rapid bursts. “Worst there—I could . . . feel it . . . in the air all around me—but strange everywhere around Ebou Dar. And even a hundred miles away. I had to fight it; not like always; different. Like it was alive. Sometimes. . . . Sometimes, it didn’t do what I wanted. Sometimes, it . . . did something else. It did. I’m not mad! It did!” The wind gusted, howling for a moment, shivering and snapping the tent walls, and Morr fell silent. Narishma’s bells chimed at a jerk of his head, then were still.

“That isn’t possible,” Dashiva muttered into the silence, but nearly under his breath. “It is not possible.”

“Who knows what’s possible?” Rand said. “I don’t! Do you?” Dashiva’s head came up in surprise, but Rand turned to Morr, moderating his tone. “Don’t worry, man.” Not a mild tone—he could not manage that—yet heartening, he hoped. His making, his responsibility. “You’ll be with me to the Last Battle. I promise it.”

The young man nodded, and scrubbed at his face with his hand as though surprised to find it damp, but he glanced at Torval, who had gone as still as stone. Did Morr know about the wine? It was a mercy, given the alternatives. A small and bitter mercy.

Rand picked up Taim’s missive, folded the page, and thrust it into his coat pocket. One in fifty mad already, and more to come. Was Morr next? Dashiva was surely close. Hopwil’s stares took on a new meaning, and even Narishma’s habitual quiet. Madness did not always mean screaming about spiders. He had asked once, warily, where he knew the answers would be true, how to cleanse the taint from saidin. And got a riddle for answer. Herid Fel had claimed the riddle stated “sound principles, in both high philosophy and natural philosophy,” but he had not seen any way to apply it to the problem at hand. Had Fel been killed because he might have puzzled out the riddle? Rand had a hint at the answer, or thought he might, a guess that could be disastrously wrong. Hints and riddles were not answers, yet he had to do something. If the taint was not cleansed somehow, Tarmon Gai’don might find a world already ruined by madmen. What had to be done, had to be done.

“That would be wondrous,” Torval said in a near whisper, “but how could anyone short of the Creator or . . . ?” He trailed off uneasily.

Rand had not realized he had spoken any of his thoughts aloud. Narishma’s eyes, and Morr’s, and Hopwil’s, belonged in one face, shining with sudden hope. Dashiva looked poleaxed. Rand hoped he had not said too much. Some secrets had to be kept. Including what he would do next.

In short order, Hopwil was running for his horse to ride to the ridge with orders for the nobles, Morr and Dashiva to find Flinn and the other Asha’man, and Torval was striding off to Travel back to the Black Tower with commands for Taim. Narishma was last, and thinking of Aes Sedai and Seanchan and weapons, Rand sent him away as well, with careful instructions that made the young man’s mouth tighten.

“Speak to no one,” Rand finished softly, gripping Narishma’s arm hard. “And don’t fail me. Not by a hair.”

“I won’t fail,” Narishma said, unblinking. With a quick salute, he was gone, too.

Dangerous, a voice whispered in Rand’s head. Oh, yes, very dangerous, maybe too dangerous. But it might work; it might. In any event, you must kill Torval now. You must.

Weiramon entered the council tent, shouldering aside Gregorin and Tolmeran, trying to shoulder aside Rosana and Semaradrid, the lot of them eager to tell Rand that the men in the trees had decided wisely after all. They found him laughing till tears rolled down his face. Lews Therin had come back. Or else he really was mad already. Either way, it was reason to laugh.

Chapter 14 – Message from the M’Hael

So, there are a couple of things to note here. First off, Rand literally ends the chapter “laughing till tears rolled down his face.” Likely not the sort of laughter and tears that Cadsuane intended, but beneath the desperate, sardonic laughter here, Rand actually does accidentally reveal a sliver of hope: He intends to cleanse saidin, and he clearly hopes that Callandor might be the key. Torval’s wording here is dead-on: “how could anyone short of the Creator?” When Cadsuane tells Rand that Callandor is flawed, he’s devastated.

Rand barely heard her. He had hoped to use Callandor again, hoped it would be strong enough. Now only one chance remained, and it terrified him. He seemed to hear another woman’s voice, a dead woman’s voice. “You could challenge the Creator.“

Chapter 27 – The Bargain

I mean, he just needs two women to channel with him, so he really doesn’t need to be so despondent. Two-thirds of the women who intend to marry him can channel. Though, he has to be wondering whether a woman can touch saidin to repair it.

The other bit of hope that is thoroughly snuffed out is Morr. Note how Rand instantly moves to comfort Morr. Rand may come off as a very hard, cold-hearted man, but he doesn’t want Morr to be afraid of madness.

Which is part of what makes chapter 29 so absolutely devastating. You knew this was coming, here’s the quote:

A glimpse of a black coat ahead, and his hand shot up, fire streaking, exploding, tearing away the corner where the two hallways met. Rand let the weave subside, but did not let it go. Had he killed him?

“My Lord Dragon,” a voice shouted from beyond the torn stonework, “it’s me, Narishma! And Flinn!”

“I didn’t recognize you,” Rand lied. “Come here.”

“I think maybe your blood’s hot,” Flinn’s voice called. “I think maybe we should wait for everybody to cool down.”

“Yes,” Rand said slowly. Had he really tried to kill Narishma? He did not think he could claim the excuse of Lews Therin. “Yes, that might be best. For a little while longer.” There was no answer. Did he hear boots retreating? He forced his hands down and turned another way.

He searched through the Palace for hours without finding a sign of Dashiva or the others. The corridors and great halls, even the kitchens, were empty of people. He found nothing, and learned nothing. No. He realized that he had learned one thing. Trust was a knife, and the hilt was as sharp as the blade.

Then he found pain.

The small stone-walled room was deep below the Sun Palace and warm despite the lack of a fireplace, but Min felt cold. Three gilded lamps on the tiny wooden table gave more than enough light. Rand had said that from there, he could get her away even if someone tried to root the Palace out of the ground. He had not sounded as if he were joking.

Holding the crown of Illian on her lap, she watched Rand. Watched Rand watching Fedwin. Her hands tightened on the crown, and loosened immediately at the stabs of those small swords hidden among the laurel leaves. Strange, that the crown and scepter should have survived when the Dragon Throne itself was a pile of gilded splinters buried in rubble. A large leather scrip beside her chair, with Rand’s sword belt and scabbarded sword resting against it, held what else he had been able to salvage. Strange choices for the most part, in her estimation.

You brainless loobie, she thought. Not thinking about what’s right in front of you won’t make it go away.

Rand sat cross-legged on the bare stone floor, still covered in dust and scratches, his coat torn. His face might have been carved. He seemed to watch Fedwin without blinking. The boy was sitting on the floor, too, his legs sprawled out. Tongue caught between his teeth, Fedwin was concentrating on making a tower out of blocks of wood. Min swallowed hard.

She could still remember the horror when she realized the boy “guarding” her now had the mind of a small child. The sadness remained, too—Light, he was only a boy! it was not right!—but she hoped Rand still had him shielded. It had not been easy, talking Fedwin into playing with those wooden blocks instead of pulling stones out of the walls with the Power to make a “big tower to keep you safe in.” And then she had sat guarding him until Rand came. Oh, Light, she wanted to cry. For Rand even more than Fedwin.

“You hide yourself in the depths, it appears.”

The deep voice was not finished speaking from the doorway before Rand was on his feet, facing Mazrim Taim. As usual, the hook-nosed man wore a black coat with blue-and-gold Dragons spiraling up the arms. Unlike the other Asha’man, he had neither Sword nor Dragon on his high collar. His dark face wore nearly as little expression as Rand’s. Now, staring at Taim, Rand seemed to be gritting his teeth. Min surreptitiously eased a knife in her coatsleeve. As many images and auras danced around one as the other, but it was not a viewing that made her suddenly wary. She had seen a man trying to decide whether to kill another before, and she was seeing it again.

“You come here holding saidin, Taim?” Rand said, much too softly. Taim spread his hands, and Rand said, “That’s better.” But he did not relax.

“It was just that I thought I might be stabbed by accident,” Taim said, “making my way here through corridors packed with those Aiel women. They seem agitated.” His eyes never left Rand, but Min was sure he had noticed her touching her knife. “Understandably, of course,” he went on smoothly. “I cannot express my joy at finding you alive after seeing what I did above. I came to report deserters. Normally, I wouldn’t have bothered, but these are Gedwyn, Rochaid, Torval, and Kisman. It seems they were malcontented over events in Altara, but I never thought they would go this far. I haven’t seen any of the men I left with you.” For an instant, his gaze flickered to Fedwin. For no more than an instant. “There were . . . other . . . casualties? I will take this one with me, if you wish.”

“I told them to stay out of sight,” Rand said in a harsh voice. “And I’ll take care of Fedwin. Fedwin Morr, Taim; not ‘this one.’ ” He actually backed to the small table to pick up the silver cup sitting among the lamps. Min’s breath caught.

“The Wisdom in my village could cure anything,” Rand said as he knelt beside Fedwin. Somehow, he managed to smile at the boy without taking his eyes from Taim. Fedwin smiled back happily and tried to take the cup, but Rand held it for him to drink. “She knows more about herbs than anybody I’ve ever met. I learned a little from her, which are safe, which not.” Fedwin sighed as Rand took the cup away and held the boy to his chest. “Sleep, Fedwin,” Rand murmured.

It did seem that the boy was going to sleep. His eyes closed. His chest rose and fell more slowly. Slower. Until it stopped. The smile never left his lips.

“A little something in the wine,” Rand said softly as he laid Fedwin down. Min’s eyes burned, but she would not cry. She would not!

“You are harder than I thought,” Taim muttered.

Rand smiled at him, a hard feral smile. “Add Corlan Dashiva to your list of deserters, Taim. Next time I visit the Black Tower, I expect to see his head on your Traitor’s Tree.”

“Dashiva?” Taim snarled, his eyes widening in surprise. “It will be as you say. When next you visit the Black Tower.” That quickly, he recovered himself, all polished stone and poise once more. How she wished she could read her viewings of him.

“Return to the Black Tower, and don’t come here again.” Standing, Rand faced the other man over Fedwin’s body. “I may be moving about for a while.”

Taim’s bow was minuscule. “As you command.”

As the door closed behind him, Min let out a long breath.

“No point wasting time, and no time to waste,” Rand muttered. Kneeling in front of her, he took the crown and slipped it into the scrip with the other things. “Min, I thought I was the whole pack of hounds, chasing down one wolf after another, but it seems I’m the wolf.”

“Burn you,” she breathed. Tangling both hands in his hair, she stared in his eyes. Now blue, now gray, a morning sky just at sunrise. And dry. “You can cry, Rand al’Thor. You won’t melt if you cry!”

“I don’t have time for tears, either, Min,” he said gently. “Sometimes, the hounds catch the wolf and wish they hadn’t. Sometimes, he turns on them, or waits in ambush. But first, the wolf has to run.”

“When do we go?” she asked. She did not let go of his hair. She was never going to let go of him. Never.

Chapter 29 – A Cup of Sleep

Yeah, that was rough. Writing this script, I’m honestly not looking forward to recording this bit tomorrow. There are a few points here.

First, we finally have a close-up example of someone going mad from the taint and it does not look anything like what Rand’s going through. Morr didn’t slowly decline into paranoia, arrogance, and anger: his mind seems to be detached from reality. He still obeyed Rand and wanted to protect Min, even his basic personality and loyalties seem to be more-or-less intact. He’s just… mad. We can’t even say that there was a clue in his admission that saidin felt odd to control, as we discover that all Asha’man sensed this near Ebou Dar. As far as we can tell, it came on without warning, suddenly, and without any early symptoms. Maybe it doesn’t always work this way, but this is the only good example we have.

Second, Rand might not be going mad from the taint, but he’s definitely in a very dark place. Anyone would be. This book was rough for Rand, and he was already under an insane amount of pressure. If Cadsuane has a plan to soften Rand, I hope it starts working quickly, ’cause I’m not sure how much longer he can take this. Don’t let Morr completely dominate that scene, either. Note the simple line “‘I didn’t recognize you,’ Rand lied.” A few of the Asha’man seized the opportunity to flee in the chaos Morr caused and Rand was ready to start burning anyone in a black coat.

Oh, there’s just one more thing too. Why was Taim affected so much more by Dashiva’s desertion? Is it just because Rand knew before he did? Hmm, we still don’t have any real evidence that Taim is Demandred, but if he is, then maybe there’s a bit more to Dashiva than we’ve seen thus far. We haven’t heard one damn thing from Osan’gar in a long time now, but we know that Aran’gar’s hiding among the Aes Sedai. Wouldn’t Shai’tan want to have an agent close to Rand as well? This is just wild speculation, but I dunno, Dashiva was acting a little strange this book. I mean, he’s always a bit distracted, but why was he so sure that it was “impossible” for saidin to be weird around Ebou Dar when Morr first reported it – and why was he so certain that Rand was wrong in asserting that the strangeness around Ebou Dar was just him feeling the taint a bit more? Dashiva was taught at the Black Tower – he isn’t nearly as experienced as Rand – why is he so confident in his understanding of saidin?

Outro

Wow, okay, I honestly expected this one to be shorter than the rest, given how short this book was. I was hoping to fill in the gaps a bit by covering the logistics stuff, but I didn’t expect this post to nearly double the length of the others. I think I used more quotes this time around? Let me know if that was fun or just obnoxious.

I had a couple of other topics to dig into, but I really don’t want to make this too long (the WordPress editor is actually starting to get glitchy,) so I’ll just briefly touch on a couple of things before wrapping up.

First off, the game of sha’rah from Moridin’s section was really interesting, and I originally intended to quote the entire section. The game itself is neat, but what’s really cool is Moridin’s comment that “Perhaps the Fisher did come from some dim remnant of a memory of Rand al’Thor, the shadow of a shadow.” The notion that even superficial features, like the wound in Rand’s side, may be repeated in the pattern is just fascinating.

I also wanted to mention that we got several Elayne perspective chapters this book, and I found her voice to be absolutely adorable. “Snatching the flecks of jealousy that suddenly were floating through her, she pushed them into a sack and stuffed it into the back of her head. Then she jumped up and down on it for good measure.” She takes the time to note pretty things in her surroundings whenever she’s not too busy. She named her horse “Lioness,” and when Lioness died, she had the very determined thought: “She would weep for Lioness later.”

Robert Jordan is just amazing at writing each character’s perspective to suit their character, but I think Elayne’s might be the most overwhelmingly charming.

Alright, we’re at 21,722 words, so I’d better call it. I hope everyone enjoyed this episode and I hope you’re all looking forward to the next book as much as I am!

Oh, wow, I just realized that I didn’t even get to talk about the scene where they explain how circles work and the amazing description of the Bowl of the Winds. Well… the only really critical part is that entering a circle or passing control of it requires a voluntary surrender, which doesn’t fit with the notion that the Warder bond is essentially a type of circle, which might explain why some of the Forsaken seem to be kind of appalled by it. The usage of the Bowl of the Winds was really cool, but I don’t really have anything to add, so just re-read chapter 5, The Breaking Storm, if you want to relive that.

I also wanted to talk at length about Aviendha and Elayne unraveling weaves. That Moridin is shocked at it is interesting, as this may be yet another new ability of this Age, and that could have some major consequences. I wonder if an angreal makes unraveling easier? What sorts of things could Aviendha unravel while directing Callandor with Rand and Elayne? Maybe even something made by the Creator? For that matter, what ills could Nynaeve Heal while directing Callandor?