"No," Adelorna whispered.
"Yes." Gregana smiled deeply.
Then, shockingly, the collar undipped from Adelorna's neck and fell to the floor. Gregana looked stunned for a moment before she was consumed in a blast of fire.
Adelorna's eyes opened wide, and she shied away from the sudden heat. A corpse in a blackened red and blue dress crumbled to the ground before her, smoking and reeking of burned flesh. It was then that Adelorna became aware of an extremely powerful source of channeling coming from behind.
The invaders screamed, the women in gray weaving shields. That proved to be the wrong choice, as both women's leashes unlocked, twisting lines of Air unclasping them with dexterous speed. Just a heartbeat after that, one of the women in red and blue disappeared in a flash of lightning while the other was set upon by tongues of flame, like striking serpents. She screamed as she died, and a soldier shouted. It must have been the command to fall back, for the soldiers fled, leaving two frightened women who had been unleashed by the tongues of Air.
Adelorna turned hesitantly. A woman in white stood atop the rubble a short distance away, a massive halo of power surrounding her, her arm outstretched toward the fleeing soldiers, her eyes intense. The woman stood like vengeance itself, the power of saidar like a storm around her. The very air seemed alight, and her brown hair blew from the wind of the open gap in the wall beside them. Egwene al'Vere.
"Quickly," Egwene said. A group of novices scrambled over the rubble and came to Adelorna's side, helping her to her feet. She stood, amazed. She was free! Several other novices hurried to grab the two unleashed women in gray—who, oddly, just kept kneeling in the hallway. They could channel; Adelorna could feel it. Why didn't they strike back? Instead, they seemed to be weeping.
"Put them with the others," Egwene said, striding over the rubble and glancing out the broken hallway gap. "I want—" Egwene froze, then raised her hands.
Suddenly, more weaves sprang up around Egwene. Light! Was that Vora's sa'angreal she carried in her hand, the white fluted wand? Where had Egwene gotten that? Blasts of lighting flew from Egwene's open hand, flashing through the opening in the wall, and something screeched and fell outside. Adelorna stepped up to Egwene, embracing the Source, feeling a fool for having been captured. Egwene struck again, and another of those flying monsters fell.
"What if they're carrying captives?" Adelorna asked, watching one of the beasts fall amid Egwene's flames.
"Then those captives are better dead," Egwene said, turning to her. "Trust me. I know this." She turned to the others. "Back from the hole, everyone. Those blasts may have drawn attention.
"Shanal and Clara, watch this hole from a safe distance. Run to us if any to'raken land here. Do not attack them."
Two girls nodded, taking up positions by the rubble. The other novices hurried away, chivvying the two strange invader women along with them. Egwene marched down the hallway behind them, like a general at the battle lines. And perhaps she was. Adelorna hastened to join her. "Well," she said. "You have done nicely to organize, Egwene, though it's good that an Aes—"
Egwene froze. Those eyes were so calm, so in control. "I am in command until this threat passes. You will call me Mother. Give me penance later if you must, but for now my authority must be unquestioned. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Mother," Adelorna found herself saying, shocked.
"Good. Where are your Warders?"
"One wounded," Adelorna said. "One safe, with the other. One dead."
"Light, woman, and you're still standing?"
Adelorna straightened her back. "What other choice do I have?"
Egwene nodded. Why did her look of respect make Adelorna swell with pride?
"Well, I'm glad to have you," Egwene said, resuming her walk. "We've only rescued six other Aes Sedai, none of them Green, and we're having trouble keeping the Seanchan bottled at the eastern stairwells. I'll have one of the novices show you how to unlock the bracelets; but don't take any risks. Generally, it's easier—and much safer—to kill the damane. How familiar are you with the Tower's angreal storerooms?"
"Very," Adelorna said.
"Excellent," Egwene said, absently weaving as complex a weave as Adelorna had ever seen. A line of light broke the air, then rotated around itself, creating a hole into blackness. "Lucain, run and tell the others to hold. I'll be bringing more angreal soon."
A brunette novice bobbed her head and rushed away. Adelorna was still staring at that hole. "Traveling," she said flatly. "You really have rediscovered it. I thought the reports wishful rumors."
Egwene looked at her. "I'd have never shown you this, save that I just had a report that Elaida has been spreading knowledge of this weave. Knowledge of Traveling has been compromised. That means the Sean-chan are likely to have it by now, assuming they've taken any women Elaida taught."
"Mother's milk in a cup!"
"Indeed," Egwene said, eyes like ice. "We need to stop them and destroy any to'raken we see, with captives or not. If there's any chance of stopping them from returning to Ebou Dar with someone who can Travel, we must take it."
Adelorna nodded.
"Come," Egwene said. "I need to know what items in this storeroom are angreal." She stepped through the hole.
Adelorna stood, stunned, still thinking over what she'd been told. "You could have run," she said. "You could have fled at any time."
Egwene turned back to her, looking through the portal. "Fled?" she asked. "If I left, it wouldn't have been fleeing you, Adelorna, it would have been abandoning you. I am the Amyrlin Seat. My place is here. I'm certain you've heard that I Dreamed this very attack."
Adelorna felt a chill. She had indeed.
"Come," Egwene repeated. "We must be quick. This is just a raid; they'll want to grab as many channelers as possible and be off with them. I intend to see that they lose more damane than they gain Aes Sedai."
CHAPTER 41
A Fount of Power
Well, tie a kerchief on my face and call me Aiel,' said one of Bryne's soldiers, kneeling beside the general at the prow of their narrow boat. "It really is there."
Gawyn squatted at the prow of his own boat, the dark waters rippling and lapping at the sides of the vessel. They'd needed thirteen boats to carry them all, and had set into the river quietly and easily—at least, they had once Siuan Sanche had finished her inspection of the boats and decided they were riverworthy. Barely.
Each vessel carried a single, shielded lantern. Gawyn could barely make out the other boats sliding over the ebony water, the soldiers rowing them in near silence as they pulled up beside the stonework embankment on Tar Valon's southwestern side. The flashes of light in the sky were distracting, and Gawyn kept finding himself glancing up, to see serpentine beasts illuminated briefly by cold white lightning or blazing crimson fire.
The White Tower itself seemed to burn. It lit a daunting profile in the sky, all white and red, outlined by flames. Smoke boiled toward the midnight clouds above, fires blazed inside many Tower windows, and a glare at the base indicated that outlying buildings and trees were also alight.
The soldiers shipped oars as Gawyn's boat gracefully slid up beside that of Bryne, passing under the lip of ancient stonework where rock overhung the river. That blocked Gawyn's view of the furious battle—though he could still hear the rumblings and pops, and an occasional spray of broken stone falling to the cobbles, sounding like distant rain.
Gawyn raised his lantern, risking just a sliver of light from the shield. With that illumination, he could make out what Bryne's soldier had seen. Tar Valon's island was rimmed by Ogier-made bulwarks, part of the original city design; they kept the island from eroding. Like most Ogier work, the bulwarks were beautiful. Here, the stone delicately arched outward from the island five or six feet above the water, forming a lip that looked like the white tip of a crashing wave. In the soft light of Gawyn's lantern, the undersides of those stones were so realistic, so delicate, that it was difficult to tell where stone ended and river began.
One of those stone ripples hid a cleft, almost impossible to spot even from this close at hand. Bryne's soldiers were steering his boat into the narrow rift, which was enclosed on both sides and top by stone. Siuan's boat went next, and Gawyn waved for his rowers to go after her. The rift turned into a very narrow tunnel, and Gawyn unshielded his lantern further, as Bryne and Siuan had done ahead. The lichen-covered stones were ribboned on the sides by dark watermarks. In many years, this passage would have been completely under water.
"It was probably designed for workers," Bryne said from up ahead, his soft voice echoing in the damp tunnel. Even the movements of the oars in the water were amplified, as were distant drips and lappings of the river. "To go out and maintain the stonework."
"I don't care why they built it," Siuan said. "I'm just glad it's here. And mortified I didn't know about it earlier. One of the strengths of Tar Valon has always been that the bridges make it secure. You can keep track of who goes in and who goes out."
Bryne snorted softly, the sound echoing down the tunnel. "You can never control everything in a city this size, Siuan. Those bridges, in a way, they give you a false sense of control. Sure, for an invading army, this city is impenetrable—but a place like this, tighter than a tick, can still have a dozen holes big enough for fleas to slip through."
Siuan fell silent. Gawyn calmed himself, breathing steadily. At least he was finally doing something to help Egwene. It had taken far longer than he'd wanted. Light send that he was coming soon enough!
The tunnel trembled from a distant explosion. Gawyn glanced over his shoulder at the other ten boats, packed with apprehensive soldiers. They were gliding directly into a war zone where both sides were stronger than they were, both sides had little reason to like them, and both sides were wielding the One Power. It took a special kind of man to stare those odds in the eyes.
"Here," Bryne said, silhouetted against the light. He raised a hand and halted the line of boats. The tunnel had opened up to the right, where a ledge of stone—a landing with a set of stairs—waited. The watery tunnel itself continued on.
Bryne stood, bending over, and stepped out onto the ledge, mooring his boat to a cleat. The soldiers in his boat followed, each carrying a small brown package. What were they? Gawyn hadn't noticed them loading the packages on the boats. When the final soldier in that boat stepped out, he pushed the vessel forward and handed its tow rope to a soldier in Siuan's boat. As the line continued forward, they tied each boat to the one ahead of it. The last man would secure his boat to the docking pillar, and it would hold them all in place.
Gawyn stepped onto the stone ledge when his turn came and he trotted up the steps, which opened into the floor of a small alley. This entrance had probably long since been forgotten by all save the few beggars who used it for shelter. Several of the soldiers were tying up a small group of such men at the back of the alleyway. Gawyn grimaced, but said nothing. More often than not, beggars would sell secrets to any who cared to listen, and news of a hundred soldiers sneaking into the city would be worth good coin from the Tower Guard.
