"And if they do not?" Gregorin demanded.
Rand rested his hand on the table, fingers spread. "I may have to destroy them. Or at least their ability to make war in the near future".
The pavilion grew still.
"Could you do that?" Darlin asked.
"I'm not certain", Rand admitted. "If I can, it may leave me weakened in a time when I need all of my strength. Light, it may be my only choice. A terrible choice, when I left them last time . . . We cannot have them striking at our backs while we fight the Shadow". He shook his head, and Min stepped up to take his arm. "I will find a way to deal with them. Somehow, I'll find a way".
The signing progressed. Some did it with great flourish, others in more casual fashion. Rand had Perrin, Gawyn, Faile and Gareth Bryne sign as well. He seemed to want anyone here who might rise to a position of leadership to have their names on the document.
Finally, only Elayne remained. Rand held out the quill to her.
"This is a difficult thing you ask of me, Rand", Elayne said, arms folded, golden hair gleaming in the light of his globes. Why had the sky gone dim outside? Rand didn’t seem worried, but Perrin feared that the clouds had consumed the sky. A dangerous sign, if they now held sway where Rand had once kept them back.
"I know it is difficult", Rand said. "Perhaps if I gave you something in return . . ".
"What?"
"The war", Rand said. He turned to the rulers. "You wanted one of you to lead the Last Battle. Will you accept Andor, and its queen, in this role?"
"Too young", Darlin said. "Too new. No offense, Your Majesty".
Alsalam snorted. "You’re one to talk, Darlin. Half the monarchs present have held their thrones for a year or less!"
"What of the Borderlanders?" Alliandre asked. "They’ve fought against the Blight all of their lives".
"We are overrun", Paitar said. He shook his head. "One of us cannot coordinate this. Andor is as good a choice as any".
"Andor is suffering an invasion of its own", Darlin noted.
"You all are, or soon will be", Rand said. "Elayne Trakand is a leader to her core; she taught me much of what I know about leadership. She has learned tactics from a great captain, and I’m certain she will rely upon all the great captains for advice. Someone must lead. Will you all accept her in this position?"
The others reluctantly nodded agreement. Rand turned to Elayne.
"All right, Rand", she said. "I’ll do this, and I will sign, but you had better find a way to deal with the Seanchan. I want to see their ruler’s name on this document. None of us will be safe until it’s there".
"What of the women held by the Seanchan?" Rhuarc asked. "I will admit, Rand al’Thor, our intention was to declare a blood feud with these invaders the moment more pressing battles were won".
"If their ruler signs it", Rand said, "I will ask about trading for goods to retrieve those channelers they have stolen. I will try to persuade them to release the lands they hold and return to their own country".
"What if they refuse?" Egwene asked, shaking her head. "Will you let them sign it without giving on those points? Thousands are enslaved, Rand".
"We cannot defeat them", Aviendha said, speaking softly. Perrin eyed her. She smelled frustrated, but determined. "If we go to war with them, we will fall "
"Aviendha is right", Amys said. "The Aiel will not fight the Seanchan". Rhuarc, startled, looked back and forth between the two.
"They have done horrible things", Rand said, "but so far, the lands they have taken have benefited from strong leadership. If forced to it, I am content to allow them the lands they have, so long as they do not spread further. As for the women . . . what is done is done. Let us worry about the world itself first, then do what we can for those held captive".
Elayne held the document for a moment, perhaps for the drama of it, then bent down and added her name to the bottom with a flourish.
"It is done", Moiraine said as Rand picked up the document. "You will have peace this time, Lord Dragon".
"We must survive first", he said, holding the document with reverence. "I will leave you to make your battle preparations. I need to complete some tasks, Seanchan included, before I travel to Shayol Ghul. I do have a request for you, however. There is a dear friend who needs us . . ".
Angry lightning blistered the clouded sky. Despite the shade, sweat lined Lan’s neck, matting his hair underneath his helmet. He’d not worn one in years; much of his time with Moiraine had required them to be nondescript, and helmets were anything but.
"How . . . how bad is it?" Andere grimaced, holding his side, and leaning back against a rock.
Lan looked to the battle. The Shadowspawn were amassing again. The monsters almost seemed to blend and shift together, one enormous dark force of howling, miasmic hatred as thick as the air—which seemed to hold in the heat and the humidity, like a merchant hoarding fine rugs.
"It’s bad", Lan said.
"Knew it would be", Andere said, breathing in and out quickly, blood seeping between his fingers. "Nazar?"
"Gone", Lan said. The white-haired man had gone down in the same set-to that had nearly taken Andere. Lan’s rescue had not been quick enough. "I saw him gut a Trolloc as it killed him".
"May the last embrace of the mother—" Andere spasmed in pain. "May the—"
"May the last embrace of the mother welcome you home", Lan said softly.
"Don’t look at me that way, Lan", Andere said. "We all knew what this was going to be when we . . . when we joined you".
"That is why I tried to stop you".
Andere scowled. "I—"
"Peace, Andere", Lan said, rising. "What I wished was selfish. I came to die for Malkier. I have no right to deny that privilege to others".
"Lord Mandragoran!" Prince Kaisel rode up, his once-fine armor bloodstained and dented. The Kandori prince still looked too young for this battle, but he’d proven himself to be as coolheaded as any grizzled veteran. "They’re forming up again".
Lan walked across the rocky ground to where a groom held Mandarb. The black stallion bore cuts on his flanks from Trolloc weapons. Thank the Light, they were superficial. Lan rested a hand on the horse’s neck as Mandarb snorted. Nearby, his standard-bearer, a bald man named Jophil, raised the flag of Malkier, the Golden Crane. This was his fifth standar
