Gill waved the three men forward. Rand bound them in cords of Air.

"You took their consciences, didn’t you?" he asked softly.

Gill’s eyes widened at the use of the One Power. He tried to run. Rand grabbed him in cords of Air as well.

MEN WHO THINK THEY ARE OPPRESSED WILL SOMEDAY FIGHT. I WILL REMOVE FROM THEM NOT JUST THEIR WILL TO RESIST, BUT THE VERY SUSPICION THAT SOMETHING IS WRONG.

"So you leave them without compassion?" Rand demanded, looking into Gill’s eyes. The man seemed terrified that Rand would kill him, as did the three thugs. No remorse. Not a bit of it.

COMPASSION IS NOT NEEDED.

Rand felt deathly cold. "This is different from the world you showed me before".

WHAT I SHOWED BEFORE IS WHAT MEN EXPECT. IT IS THE EVIL THEY THINK THEY FIGHT. BUT I WILL MAKE A WORLD WHERE THERE IS NOT GOOD OR EVIL.

THERE IS ONLY ME.

"Do your servants know?" Rand whispered. "The ones you name Chosen? They think they fight to become lords and rulers over a world of their own making. Instead you will give them this. The same world . . . except one without Light".

THERE IS ONLY ME.

No Light. No love of men. The horror of it sank deep within Rand, shaking him. This was one of the possibilities that the Dark One could choose, if he won. It didn’t mean he would, or that it had to happen, but . . . oh Light, this was terrible. Far more terrible than a world of captives, far more terrible than a dark land with a broken landscape.

This was true horror. This was a full corruption of the world, it was taking everything beautiful from it, leaving behind only a husk. A pretty husk, but still a husk.

Rand would rather live a thousand years of torture, retaining the piece of himself that gave him the capacity for good, than live a moment in this world without Light.

He turned, enraged, upon the darkness. It consumed the far wall, growing larger. "You make a mistake, Shai’tan!" Rand yelled at that nothingness. "You think to make me despair? You think to shatter my will? This will not do it, I swear to you. This makes me sure to fight!"

Something rumbled inside of the Dark One. Rand yelled, pushing outward with his will, shattering the dark world of lies and men who would kill without empathy. It exploded into threads, and Rand was once again in the place outside of time, the Pattern rippling around him.

"You show me your true heart?" Rand demanded of the nothingness as he seized those threads. "I will show you mine, Shai’tan. There is an opposite to this Lightless world you would create.

"A world without Shadow".

Mat stalked away, calming his anger. Tuon had seemed really angry at him! Light. She would come back when he needed her to, would she not?

"Mat?" Min said, hurrying up beside him.

"Go with her", Mat said. "Keep an eye on her for me, Min".

"But—"

"She doesn’t need much protecting", Mat said. "She’s a strong one. Bloody ashes, but she is. She does need watching, though. She worries me, Min. Anyway, I have this bloody war to win. I can’t do that and go with her. So would you go and watch her? Please?"

Min slowed, then gave him an unexpected hug. "Luck, Matrim Cauthon".

"Luck, Min Farshaw", Mat said. He let her go, then shouldered his ashandarei. The Seanchan had begun leaving Dashar Knob, pulling back to the Erinin before leaving the Field of Merrilor altogether. Demandred would let them go; he would be a fool not to. Blood and bloody ashes, what was Mat getting himself into? He had just sent away a good quarter of his troops.

They’ll come back, he thought. If his gamble worked. If the dice fell as he needed them.

Only this battle was not a game of dice. There was too much subtlety to it for that. It was cards, if anything. Mat usually won at cards. Usually.

To his right, a group of men in dark Seanchan armor marched toward the battlefield. "Hey, Karede!" Mat yelled.

The large man gave Mat a dark look. Suddenly, Mat knew what an ingot of metal felt like when Perrin eyed it, hefting a hammer. Karede stalked up, and though he obviously was making an effort to keep his face calm, Mat could feel the thunder coming off him.

"Thank you", Karede said, voice stiff, "for helping protect the Empress, may she live forever".

"You think I should have kept her someplace secure", Mat said. "Not at the command post".

"It is not my place to question one of the Blood, Great One", Karede said.

"You’re not questioning me", Mat said, "you’re thinking of sticking something sharp in me. Entirely different".

Karede breathed out a long, deep breath. "Excuse me, Great One", he said, turning to leave. "I must take my men and die".

"I don’t think so", Mat said. "You’re coming with me".

Karede turned back toward him. "The Empress, may she live forever, ordered—"

"You to the front lines", Mat said, shading his eye as he scanned the riverbed, swarming with Trollocs . . . "Great. Where do you bloody think I’m going?"

"You ride to battle?" Karede asked.

"I was thinking more of a saunter", Mat said. He shook his head. "I need a feel for what Demandred is doing . . . I’m going out there, Karede, and putting you fellows between me and the Trollocs sounds delightful. Are you coming?"

Karede did not reply, though he did not continue walking away, either. "Look, what are your choices?" Mat asked. "Ride out there and die for really no purpose? Or come try to keep me alive for your Empress? I’m almost certain that she’s fond of me. Maybe. She’s a hard one to read, Tuon is".

"You do not call her by that name", Karede said.

"I’ll call her what I bloody well want".

"Not if we’re to come with you", Karede said. "If I am to ride with you, Prince of the Ravens, I would not have my men hearing such from your lips. It would be a bad omen".

"Well, we wouldn’t want any of those", Mat said. "Right, then, Karede. Let’s dive back into this mess and see what we can do. In Fortuona’s name".

Tam raised his sword as if to begin a duel, but found no honorable foes here. Only grunting, howling, ferocious Trollocs. Drawn away from the beleaguered Whitecloaks at this battle near the ruins.

The Trollocs turned on the Two Rivers men and attacked. Tam, holding the point of the wedge, fell into Reed in Wind. He refused to take a single step backward. He bent this way and that, but held firm as he broke the Trolloc line, slashing with his