The Wheel of Time: Book Two, The Great Hunt

Update: I made a video version of this post! Check it out here:

After weeks of working on the series of literary theory posts, I’m finally getting back to The Wheel of Time! This time I’m looking at the second book, The Great Hunt.

Note that this is meant as a response to the book for anyone who has already read it and wants to think about it some more: there will be spoilers.

The Great Hunt is really good!

Considering that it’s the second book in the series, I really expected it to kind of lag. It’s hard to write a middle book without it feeling kind of boring. The excitement of being introduced to the world is taken up in the first book but we’re still a long way from the end. As a reader, it’s hard to fully forget that there are still several more books in the series, so nothing can end too finally. The Great Hunt managed to avoid most of these issues and come out feeling great!

It had a great sense of urgency, much better than I expected. I’d actually heard that it dragged on a bit, but I didn’t get that at all. If anything, the first half of the first book was far more plodding. The world-building continued to expand at a good rate; there’s plenty of new stuff here and it definitely feels like there’s be plenty more to come. The Seanchan worked particularly well to show that Ba’alzamon and Mordeth aren’t the only outside threats. The hunt itself helped to keep things moving along.

Seanchan

I really like the Seanchan. I mean, I don’t like them – they’re bad guys – but as a fantasy race, they’re fantastic. Jordan’s been doing a great job of remixing cultures and Seanchan work as a good complement to what we’ve seen thus far.

They have the strength, rigidity, and neurotic obsession with the appearance of respect. Their soldiers wear “overlapping steel plates down their chests and dull black helmets shaped like insects’ heads.” They have enslaved all women capable of magic. They bring monsters with them in their invasion. The Seanchan’s show of overwhelming, terrifying force shows both an understanding of the psychological aspects of war and hint at an internal need to project power. Their national myth (whether it’s true or not seems beside the point) is that they are the descendants of Artur Hawkwing’s armies come back to reclaim their lands: this gives them a justification for their attack and a source of pride in being the culmination of a great story, the continuation of an empire.

Real strong fascist vibes all-round. I’m sure we’ll get more nuance and depth later in the series, but for now, they’re just terrifying. Specifically, they’re terrifying in a way unlike the other antagonists we already have. They’re not supernatural beings, like Shai’tan. They’re zealots, like the Children of the Light, but their zeal is nationalist, not religious. They’re very human. In the terms of stories, this sets up the expectation that they’ll need to be dealt with in human terms: they won’t be dispelled by a great ritual or all drop dead when their mystic artifact is destroyed. With the Children of the Light, there’s a sense that much of the conflict is really a misunderstanding; perhaps they’ll even become allies if Shai’tan ever shows his hand more fully. That seems less certain with the Seanchan… but still entirely possible.

Basically, I don’t really know what’s going to happen with the Seanchan, and I love it!

Aesthetically, we’re seeing another race with some vaguely Asian vibes, similar to the Shienar, but they’re still quite different. The Shienar and Seanchan are both formal and militaristic, but the Seanchan have much more of a courtly vibe: more tea, silk, and poetry, as opposed to top-knots and simple rooms. Bear in mind, too, that we’re only seeing the invasion side of the Shienar: it would be a mistake to assume that the whole society is so martial. Overall, I think the best guess at this point is that Seanchan society looks like an aged empire, comprised of (1) a very impressive and expensive professional army (maybe service confers full citizenship?), (2) a courtly elite class driving complex culture without a need for practical work, funded by (3) a very large non-free class providing most of the labor. These are just guesses, but that’s where I’m at right now.

I’m really glad that my assumption that they sound a bit like Americans was backed up by interviews. I figured as much, given that “Seanchan” is pronounced “SHAWN-CHAN,” that their speech is described as slow and drawling (I can’t find this line but I swear it’s in there,) and… just that they’re coming from overseas and we don’t have a race that sounds American yet. The idea of the Seanchan talking like Texans is just fantastic.

The LotR references are getting kind of silly

It’s not a major issue – it really isn’t – but seriously, having Boromir die holding off the Uruks so that someone else can blow the goddamn Gjallarhorn almost felt like an intentional joke. I mean, it’s fine in-universe, but things still feel a bit like self-aware LotR fanfiction. I do get the impression that the LotR references are going to die down soon – fingers crossed!

The foreshadowing was just too goddamn much

The constant reminders that the Heron Wading in the Rushes is a suicidal stance and that a person can choose when to fall on their sword were just too much – Jordan really overdid it here. Mentioning it once, at the beginning, would’ve been good, but it just kept coming up until it got to the point where, when I got to the chapter where everything would clearly come together, I was just waiting for the moment. It really sucked any sense of surprise or suspense out of it as it was just too obvious what would happen. It felt… childish, in the sense that it seemed like Jordan was worried that his readers wouldn’t get it unless he just kept making sure that we’re still with him. What’s worse, the Heron Wading in the Rushes foreshadowing didn’t even have any layered meaning in it (at least, not for Rand)! It was literally just a thing he learned at the start of the book that coincidentally came in handy at the end. I couldn’t help but compare this to how combat technique metaphor and foreshadowing are handled in the Drizzt books.

In fact, let’s take a look at one of the Drizzt books for just a minute. Homeland, the first book in the Dark Elf Trilogy was published just a few months before The Great Hunt.

Spoilers for Homeland in the next two paragraphs.

In Homeland, early in the book, Drizzt – a young Drow elf – is being trained by the weaponmaster Zaknafein, who is pretty obviously his father, but this isn’t explicitly known by Drizzt due to a bunch of stuff that isn’t relevant here. While training, they have an argument over how to properly counter a “double-thrust low” attack. Zak’s lesson is that this attack is best blocked with a low cross, which allows the defender to essentially reset the fight to an even playing field: nothing is lost and nothing is gained. Drizzt, however, argues that Drow teaching always looks for an advantage and thus merely maintaining the status quo is a poor counter. Drizzt attempts a better solution and is defeated. In harsh Drow society, the expectation is that Zak will punish him severely – maybe even by killing him – but instead Zak just laughs. Drizzt even notes that it’s the first time he’s ever heard a Drow laugh for a reason other than cruelty. Zak explains that he once thought the same as Drizzt, but after centuries of experience, he can say with certainty that the low cross block is the correct counter. Sometimes the best you can do is to maintain the current balance.

Most of the rest of the book focuses on Drizzt growing up in Drow society and struggling to accept their cruelty. He tries to rebel, but the best he can do is to merely not be cruel himself: he cannot find a meaningful way to actually change things for the better. Along the way, he occasionally wonders why Zak – who seems to have a similar conscious to himself – doesn’t do more. Sure, he’s managed to find a position where he only fights other Drow, but he still trains the Drow how to fight, which just continues the violence. Towards the end of the book, Drizzt finally takes some drastic actions and winds up fleeing the Drow city (there’s a lot more to it than this, but I’m supposed to be talking about The Great Hunt and this is sufficient for now.) Zak is sent out to stop him and he’s furious with Drizzt, as Zak believes that Drizzt has murdered an innocent surface elf child. Moreover, Zak is crushed, as he had hoped that Drizzt would grow up to be more like him: a Drow who only fights other Drow. They fight with both swords and words and the climax comes in both realms as Drizzt explains that he did not kill the surface elf, he only pretended to in order to save her, and he’s leaving their city, which is something Zak never had the courage to do himself. In the same moment, Zak attempts the double thrust low and Drizzt responds not with the block Zak taught him but by kicking him in the face: successfully turning the fight to his advantage with a brave move that Zak hadn’t expected, even with his centuries of experience. The combat technique was an excellent metaphor for the entire drama of the book, it came together in a fight that actually made the foreshadowing meaningful, and it wasn’t spoiled by being brought up every other chapter.

I’ve generally gotten the impression that The Wheel of Time is taken a bit more seriously than the Drizzt books, but at least in the realm of combat and foreshadowing, this is a perfect example of how this doesn’t really hold up.

That said, it’s not like this ruined the book – it’s fine – but it didn’t feel as good as it could have.

The juxtaposition between the girls and the boys was interesting

There’s a bit around two-thirds of the way through the book where a chapter ends with Rand teleporting everyone and kind of wiffing the spell. The scene is pretty horrifying and it leaves the party at a real low point. The next chapter picks up immediately after that with the girls just fucking around and chatting about cute boys. I found this transition really interesting and I think it was entirely intentional. Looking at the girls’ scene by itself, it feels reasonable to me. I mean, I – personally – have a hard time grokking the scene as it’s not really anything I have personal experience with. I definitely sounded like a jackass as a teenager, but I don’t recall sitting around talking about cute girls – at least, not girls that I knew personally, as that would’ve been really creepy. But, my wife assures me that girls at that age are absolutely that creepy, so I’ll take it on faith that this scene rings true.

Anyways, we’re not here to discuss how much more dead fantasy authors know about teenage girls than I do.

The point is that the scene felt realistic and comfy. The girls had been at the tower long enough to be settled and, although they’re still worried about the boys, they’re distant enough from the boys’ problems and busy enough with their own that they can distract themselves with some frivolous conversation. In itself, the scene feels (apparently) very real, but directly juxtaposed with the hell of the boy’s scene, it’s hard not to have a moment of disgust. For all they know, Matt’s already dead, Rand is already insane, and none of them have any idea what’s going on with Perrin. To jump directly from the boys suffering to the girls chatting about the hot guy they’re leering at (while he’s in a situation where basically any woman around him has authority over him, I might add – seriously, we’re supposed to get some really rapey vibes from the Aes Sedai, right?) feels like an intentional hit to cause the reader to lose some sympathy for the girls… shortly before they’re betrayed by Liandrin and some of the most horrifying scenes in the book happen to them. Egwene’s leashing makes the weird alternate life scene from the boys seem pretty mild in comparison, and this hits all the harder given that we can’t forget having that brief moment of thinking harshly towards the girls. I felt guilty for thinking that the girls weren’t being serious enough. Consider how things would have felt if we hadn’t had our palates cleansed with the bit of frivolity. If the last third of the book was nothing bad horrible scene after horrible scene, we would’ve lost our sensitivity. I thought it was really masterful how Jordan worked in such a short scene to multiply the emotional impact between the two perspectives.

Liandrin

I don’t have too much to say about Liandrin at this point, but I feel like I need to at least mention here. She’s just the fucking worst. It’s really impressive to make a character this unlikable… while also making it clear how charismatic she is. From our characters’ perspectives, we never really question whether the Red Ajah is bad, but it’s great to have a face to put it too.

In particular, I like how traditionally, even stereotypically, feminine she is. She’s not a caricature of a man-hating feminist, she’s not opposed to gender norms, and she’s perfectly willing to use her traditionally feminine beauty to get what she wants. She’s bratty and girlish. She’s clearly brave, strong, and talented too. The best characters elicit a strong emotional response, and after just one book I already want to punch Liandrin in the face more than most characters.

Side-note, I will never stop thinking of the Liandri Mining Corporation from Unreal whenever I see her name. Liandri brings you tomorrow, today.

What’s up with Elayne?

Okay, so, Elayne met Rand for all of about twenty minutes and he spent pretty much than entire time coming off like an idiot, yet she’s just smitten by him.

To some extent, I get it. I mean, we’ve all had the experience of forming a crush on someone we barely know, right? It usually doesn’t have much to do with the target of the crush at all, it’s more about some situation. Something is going on in your life and you need a distraction, so you build up some crush without caring at all whether your image of the person is real or not.

That said, it does sometimes come off a bit odd when Elayne’s saying things like “I wish Rand were here.” Particularly for a novel, where behavior isn’t as randomly stupid as it is in real life, it seems a bit odd for a crush to hit that hard. I suppose we could just excuse this as a ta’veren thing, but… I’m just not willing to excuse anything that feels off as being a ta’veren thing. Actually, this leads us into the next point.

Rand wasn’t a Mary Sue in the first book but he sure as hell is now

In the first book, my impression of Rand was that he was a pretty normal guy. His good-natured modesty upon learning that he had arbitrarily inherited great powers, his gallantry, and his obedience to his father were a bit unrealistic, but this is pretty normal for protagonists. Within the context of a fantasy series, he just seemed like a good kid. I get that he’s starting to grow into the dragon reborn now, but The Great Hunt really pushes Rand’s unearned awesomeness to the point where it stretches belief.

The fight with Turak was definitely the worst part: why does Rand need to suddenly become a blade master without even using magic? What does this add other than to make Rand unrelatably perfect? He doesn’t even boast about it! Using the one power to fight off monsters with unrealistically perfect strength and talent earlier in the book felt solid to me – he was using the one power to become a blade master – but now he’s just a perfect blade master in addition, and completely separate from, all of his other strengths?

Maybe this is an early clue that the void that Rand’s been reaching for is a powerful magic in itself, separate from the one power, and maybe Rand is dabbling in some yin-yang Muad’Dib shit here by drawing from both light and dark. If that’s the case, then cool, but right now it’s really starting to feel like Rand is just a Mary Sue.

The girls all fighting over him just further exaggerates this. I don’t think it’s necessarily unrealistic, particularly if we’re willing to just swallow the whole ta’veren thing whole, but it really makes Rand feel like a self-insert power fantasy.

I did like Selene coming on to him though. She did not do a good job of not looking like an evil fairy lover, but he was too teen-aged to resist at all. There’s a distinction to be made between women coming on to Rand because they’re supernaturally drawn to him by fate and women coming on to Rand because they’re aware of his power and want to get in on that. Where I thought that Elayne’s response was kind of weird and unbelievable, evil magic gold-digging makes perfect sense, and Rand being embarrassingly incapable of defending himself felt real to me.

Actually, let’s talk about Lanfear for a second.

Lanfear

Did anyone else get some strong leannán sídhe vibes from Selene/Lanfear? Maybe this is a stretch, but it sure fits to me. Given Jordan’s clear love for working “real” mythology into the work, I wonder if he was explicitly thinking of Irish fairies here.

The Leanhaun Shee (fairy mistress), seeks the love of mortals. If they refuse, she must be their slave; if they consent, they are hers, and can only escape by finding another to take their place. The fairy lives on their life, and they waste away. Death is no escape from her. She is the Gaelic muse, for she gives inspiration to those she persecutes. The Gaelic poets die young, for she is restless, and will not let them remain long on earth—this malignant phantom.

Fairy and Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry – W. B. Yeats

Granted, Yeats kind of read his own interpretation in, as I don’t think that leannán sídhe were as unambiguously evil in all incarnations. What I’m really getting at here is how Selene is clearly up to no good (and the confirmation at the end that she’s Lanfear – one of the Forsaken – further establishes this) but she’s going about her work by trying to inspire Rand to reach his potential. We have to wonder whether she actually does have affection of Lews Therin Telamon, though it hardly seems worth considering that she might love Rand.

Her comment – “Ishamael thinks he controls events, but I do.” – is also just great cliff-hanger dialog. Not much to say yet, but it’s mysterious enough to have me looking up Ishmael (God has hearkened) to see if there’s something there.

Matt, Perrin, Lan, and Moiraine barely do anything the whole book

To be clear, this isn’t necessarily a problem: a ton of cool stuff happened in this book and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with some characters not having a place in it, but it did stick out to me. Matt is constantly on the verge of death, but there’s not much beyond that. Perrin talks to the occasional wolf, but we don’t really see much more from him. There is a bit of an implication that Perrin is progressing in his wolf powers, so hopefully this will pick up harder in the next book.

I think there was a great opportunity with the Turak fight to give a little of the glory to someone else though. Giving some other characters some more stage time to even Rand out a bit could’ve been good. Overall, this isn’t a significant complaint though.

Ingtar

I joked about Ingtar being Boromir before, but to the extent that this is true, he’s a more examined Boromir, and I found that really interesting. Now, Ingtar’s effectiveness was somewhat diminished by the ham-handed foreshadowing that made it entirely clear from practically the start of the book that he was a traitor… but I still liked seeing a more empathetic darkfriend.

I do want to point out something that I realized while discussing Ingtar with my wife. He definitely didn’t become a darkfriend to save lives, even his own people’s lives. His focus wasn’t on wanting to stop death, but on wanting to preserve his people’s legacy. He was angry that southern countries not only didn’t help to hold back the blight but didn’t even believe the full scope of the threat there. Ingtar was very “honorable,” but this doesn’t make him a good person: at best, it prevents him from being a certain type of bad person. He became a darkfriend to preserve a legacy even at the cost of immense death and suffering, and his guilt nearly led him to losing the horn, which could have caused even more suffering. I really liked the portrayal of Ingtar as a nuanced person who did evil for reasons that made sense to him, but if we’re going to weigh his soul, he’s “just evil.” That we want to see him as good really just demonstrates our own overemphasis on senseless honor and legacy.

Oh, I should add here that there is one bit of the Heron Wading in the Rushes stuff that I actually did like, and that’s how Ingtar discarded out of hand the notion that this routine could ever be useful: Ingtar cannot imagine a situation where he’d be willing to take a blow to deal one. For Rand, the foreshadowing was kind of silly, but the meaning for Ingtar wasn’t too bad. Now, this is a bit murky, but I get the impression that Ingtar’s insistence that the stance has no real use is purely metaphorical: Ingtar is an experienced soldier, of course he can imagine the potential value in a suicidal attack. But, metaphorically, Ingtar cannot imagine losing something he actually cares about – honor and legacy – in order to strike a blow to defend something even more important, which does capture much of Ingtar’s arc.

So long as we’re discussing empathetic bad-guys…

Geofram Bornhald

So, I’ll admit, I spend far too long suspecting that Geofram was Bors, from the intro, purely based on the surname “Bornhald.” But, once I got passed that, there’s a lot to Geofram.

Geofram’s a “good cop” and a surprisingly likeable guy, but he’s also “just evil,” despite whatever rationalizations and hedging he attempts in his mind. I really liked how he kept sincerely hoping that no “poor fool” forced him to make an example out of them. Again, this is some goddamn cop logic and I loved how it’s presented as what it is, without editorializing from other characters or in notes from the author. We’re left to make up our own minds about Geofram. I can imagine a person reading Geofram’s sections and actually thinking highly of him: he does his duty, he’s not afraid to make a report when he sees potential corruption, and he honestly wants to be merciful… so long as it doesn’t interfere with his orders, clash with his specific code of right and wrong, or cause him any insult at all.

Note that he doesn’t write a strongly-worded letter about the questioners because he hates their cruelty – he was entirely willing to just tolerate that – he opposes them because they’re stepping on his toes and he suspects that they’re up to something. Geofram honestly sees trying to terrorize random people into doing what he wants as a good thing, as it means that he might not have to kill them. At no point does he consider whether he should have this power to decide what’s right and wrong or that he should use violence to solve problems. From the tone, it seems that in his own thoughts, Geofram believes that he’s a particularly good person, as he’s a compassionate, merciful Lord Captain. He never considers putting his own goals at risk to save some lives or cause less suffering.

In short: he’s just a villain, but we get to see how he doesn’t see it that way. What I like about him is what makes him particularly terrifying, even among a set of villains in The Great Hunt: I really do suspect that a non-trivial portion of readers saw Geofram as a good person in a bad situation, rather than an evil person in a position where he could’ve done a lot of good and simply chose not to.

Moiraine and Lan

There’s really only one thing to discuss for Moiraine and Lan this book, but it’s a big one. I think I’ll just need to quote a large section so it can speak for itself.

This is from chapter 22, “Watchers,” in which Moiraine and Lan have traveled to Tifan’s Well (in Arafel) to gain knowledge from the pair of Aes Sedai secretly living there, Adeleas and Vandene. A ton of stuff happens in this chapter (the draghkar was really cool,) but I’m just going to focus on Moiraine and Lan. There’s a bit of dialog where they allude to how they met, in which Moiraine bullied him a bit, and it’s cute. We also learn, from Moiraine’s inner thoughts, that Lan is not celibate but the two of them have never been romantically involved. In this scene, Moiraine has something to tell Lan that he’s not going to like.

For the hundredth time—or so it seemed to her—she considered the words to use. “Before we left Tar Valon I made arrangements, should anything happen to me, for your bond to pass to another.” He stared at her, silent. “When you feel my death, you will find yourself compelled to seek her out immediately. I do not want you to be surprised by it.”

“Compelled,” he breathed softly, angrily. “Never once have you used my bond to compel me. I thought you more than disapproved of that.”

“Had I left this thing undone, you would be free of the bond at my death, and not even my strongest command to you would hold. I will not allow you to die in a useless attempt to avenge me. And I will not allow you to return to your equally useless private war in the Blight. The war we fight is the same war, if you could only see it so, and I will see that you fight it to some purpose. Neither vengeance nor an unburied death in the Blight will do.”

“And do you foresee your death coming soon?” His voice was quiet, his face expressionless, both like stone in a dead winter blizzard. It was a manner she had seen in him many times, usually when he was on the point of violence. “Have you planned something, without me, that will see you dead?”

“I am suddenly glad there is no pond in this room,” she murmured, then raised her hands when he stiffened, offended at her light tone. “I see my death in every day, as you do. How could I not, with the task we have followed these years? Now, with everything coming to a head, I must see it as even more possible.”

For a moment he studied his hands, large and square. “I had never thought,” he said slowly, “that I might not be the first of us to die. Somehow, even at the worst, it always seemed. . . .” Abruptly he scrubbed his hands against each other. “If there is a chance I might be given like a pet lapdog, I would at least like to know to whom I am being given.”

“I have never seen you as a pet,” Moiraine said sharply, “and neither does Myrelle.”

“Myrelle.” He grimaced. “Yes, she would have to be Green, or else some slip of a girl just raised to full sisterhood.”

“If Myrelle can keep her three Gaidin in line, perhaps she has a chance to manage you. Though she would like to keep you, I know, she has promised to pass your bond to another when she finds one who suits you better.”

“So. Not a pet but a parcel. Myrelle is to be a—a caretaker! Moiraine, not even the Greens treat their Warders so. No Aes Sedai has passed her Warder’s bond to another in four hundred years, but you intend to do it to me not once, but twice!”

“It is done, and I will not undo it.”

“The Light blind me, if I am to be passed from hand to hand, do you at least have some idea in whose hand I will end?”

“What I do is for your own good, and perhaps it may be for another’s, as well. It may be that Myrelle will find a slip of a girl just raised to sisterhood—was that not what you said?—who needs a Warder hardened in battle and wise in the ways of the world, a slip of a girl who may need someone who will throw her into a pond. You have much to offer, Lan, and to see it wasted in an unmarked grave, or left to the ravens, when it could go to a woman who needs it would be worse than the sin of which the Whitecloaks prate. Yes, I think she will have need of you.”

Lan’s eyes widened slightly; for him it was the same as another man gasping in shocked surmise. She had seldom seen him so off balance. He opened his mouth twice before he spoke. “And who do you have in mind for this—”

She cut him off. “Are you sure the bond does not chafe, Lan Gaidin? Do you realize for the first time, only now, the strength of that bond, the depth of it? You could end with some budding White, all logic and no heart, or with a young Brown who sees you as nothing more than a pair of hands to carry her books and sketches. I can hand you where I will, like a parcel—or a lapdog—and you can do no more than go. Are you sure it does not chafe?”

“Is that what this has been for?” he grated. His eyes burned like blue fire, and his mouth twisted. Anger; for the first time ever that she had seen, open anger etched his face. “Has all this talk been a test—a test!—to see if you could make my bond rub? After all this time? From the day I pledged to you, I have ridden where you said ride, even when I thought it foolish, even when I had reason to ride another way. Never did you need my bond to force me. On your word I have watched you walk into danger and kept my hands at my sides when I wanted nothing more than to out sword and carve a path to safety for you. After this, you test me?”

“Not a test, Lan. I spoke plainly, not twisting, and I have done as I said. But at Fal Dara, I began to wonder if you were still wholly with me.” A wariness entered his eyes. Lan, forgive me. I would not have cracked the walls you hold so hard, but I must know. “Why did you do as you did with Rand?” He blinked; it was obviously not what he expected. She knew what he had thought was coming, and she would not let up now that he was off balance. “You brought him to the Amyrlin speaking and acting as a Border lord and a soldier born. It fit, in a way, with what I planned for him, but you and I never spoke of teaching him any of that. Why, Lan?”

“It seemed . . . right. A young wolfhound must meet his first wolf someday, but if the wolf sees him as a puppy, if he acts the puppy, the wolf will surely kill him. The wolfhound must be a wolfhound in the wolf’s eyes even more than in his own, if he is to survive.”

“Is that how you see Aes Sedai? The Amyrlin? Me? Wolves out to pull down your young wolfhound?” Lan shook his head. “You know what he is, Lan. You know what he must become. Must. What I have worked for since the day you and I met, and before. Do you now doubt what I do?”

“No. No, but. . . .” He was recovering himself, building his walls again. But they were not rebuilt yet. “How many times have you said that ta’veren pull those around them like twigs in a whirlpool? Perhaps I was pulled, too. I only know that it felt right. Those farm folk needed someone on their side. Rand did, at least. Moiraine, I believe in what you do, even as now, when I know not half of it; believe as I believe in you. I have not asked to be released from my bond, nor will I. Whatever your plans for dying and seeing me safely—disposed of—I will take great pleasure in keeping you alive and seeing those plans, at least, go for nothing.”

“Ta’veren,” Moiraine sighed. “Perhaps it was that. Rather than guiding a chip floating down a stream, I am trying to guide a log through rapids. Every time I push at it, it pushes at me, and the log grows larger the farther we go. Yet I must see it through to the end.” She gave a little laugh. “I will not be unhappy, my old friend, if you manage to put those plans awry. Now, please leave me. I need to be alone to think.” He hesitated only a moment before turning for the door. At the last moment, though, she could not let him go without one more question. “Do you ever dream of something different, Lan?”

“All men dream. But I know dreams for dreams. This”—he touched his sword hilt—“is reality.” The walls were back, as high and hard as ever.

For a time after he left, Moiraine leaned back in her chair, looking into the fire. She thought of Nynaeve and cracks in a wall. Without trying, without thinking what she was doing, that young woman had put cracks in Lan’s walls and seeded the cracks with creepers. Lan thought he was secure, imprisoned in his fortress by fate and his own wishes, but slowly, patiently, the creepers were tearing down the walls to bare the man within. Already he was sharing some of Nynaeve’s loyalties; in the beginning he had been indifferent to the Emond’s Field folk, except as people in whom Moiraine had some interest. Nynaeve had changed that as she had changed Lan.

To her surprise, Moiraine felt a flash of jealousy. She had never felt that before, certainly not for any of the women who had thrown their hearts at his feet, or those who had shared his bed. Indeed, she had never thought of him as an object of jealousy, had never thought so of any man. She was married to her battle, as he was married to his. But they had been companions in those battles for so long. He had ridden a horse to death, then run himself nearly to death, carrying her in his arms at the last, to Anaiya for Healing. She had tended his wounds more than once, keeping with her arts a life he had been ready to throw away to save hers. He had always said he was wedded with death. Now a new bride had captured his eyes, though he was blind to it. He thought he still stood strong behind his walls, but Nynaeve had laced bridal flowers in his hair. Would he still find himself able to court death so blithely? Moiraine wondered when he would ask her to release him from his bond. And what she would do when he did.

This might be the most interesting bit in the book, which is pretty impressive considering that in just this chapter there’s also some great supernatural world-building with how the warders dispatch the draghkar.

So, I don’t want to spend much time talking about how cool and sexy we’re definitely supposed to think Lan is, what with the constant reminders that he’s normally too hard and tough to be surprised or show emotion. The main point here is Moiraine’s decision.

Very basically, Moiraine did a pretty terrible thing here. She broke an (implicit, I suppose) promise not to compel Lan. We can’t possible ignore the parallel being set up here between Moiraine and the sul’dam, or “leash holders” of the Seanchan. We get to see how much Egwene hates being chained, and how she only becomes more angry when her compassionate sul’dam treats her like a pet or does things for her own good.

In concrete terms, Moiraine is not fundamentally different from a sul’dam. She’s been pulling strings all along, but they’ve generally been pretty metaphorical strings. Nynaeve can blame Moiraine all she wants (she will, regardless of what anyone says or done, in any case) but Moiraine didn’t cause the problems in Edmond’s Field. Here, we see her pull a very direct string, magically dominating Lan to force her will over his. Even Lan, who is generally quite happy with Moiraine pulling everyone’s strings, is appalled at this. This is the most upset we’ve ever seen him.

But, Moiraine is clearly really doing this with his interests in mind. She wants to ensure that he’ll go on living if she dies and she’s giving him a shot at being with Nynaeve. It’s abhorrent, but Moiraine’s sin here really does come from a place of compassion and selflessness. She knew that Lan would be upset, but she was willing to bear that for his sake.

I don’t think there’s a “right” answer here, honestly. I really want to say that she should have talked to Lan about it directly… but Lan isn’t a free-minded person. I think that’s really the key here. Lan’s personal worldview is very rigid: in a sense, he’s not really “free” at all, regardless of what Moiraine does. Either she compels him to live or his philosophy compels him to die. Ideally, this would be his choice, but is he really free to make it? He didn’t even consider the possibility that he would outlive her until this conversation. I can relate, honestly. I’m unlikely to outlive my wife, but we can’t know that for a fact. I generally assume that I’ll die first, but from time to time it dawns on me that this isn’t certain. In those moments, I probably feel a bit like Lan does: it hardly seems worth considering what I’d do, as it wouldn’t matter anyways. But, does that suicidal reasoning help anyone?

I think this is something we’ll just need to mull over as we move on to The Dragon Reborn.