The others looked uncomfortable. You weren’t supposed to speak of the specifics of a testing. Nynaeve knew that much. She also knew that most of the time, failing and dying were the same thing. Though she wasn’t terribly surprised to hear claims that she’d failed, now that she thought about it.
She had broken the rules of the test. She’d run in order to save Perrin and others. She’d channeled before she should have. She had trouble summoning regret. Every other emotion was, for the moment, consumed by the hollow loss she felt.
“Barasine does have a point,” Seaine said, reluctant. “By the end, you were openly furious, and you ran to reach many of the markers. And then there is the matter of the forbidden weave. Most troubling. I do not say you should fail, but there are irregularities.”
Nynaeve tried to climb to her feet. Rosil placed a hand on her shoulder to forbid her, but Nynaeve took the arm and used it as support, pulling herself up on unsteady legs. She took the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders, holding it closed at the front.
She felt so drained. “I did what I had to. Who among you would not run if you saw people in danger? Who among you would forbid herself to channel if she saw Shadowspawn attacking? I acted as an Aes Sedai should.”
“This test,” Barasine said, “is meant to ensure that a woman is capable of dedicating herself to a greater task. To see that she can ignore the distractions of the moment and seek a higher good.”
Nynaeve sniffed. “I completed the weaves I needed to. I maintained my focus. Yes, I broke my calm—but I kept a cool enough head to complete my tasks. One should not demand calmness for the mere sake of calmness, and a prohibition on running when there are people you need to save is foolish.
“My goal in this test was to prove that I deserve to be Aes Sedai. Well, then, I could argue that the lives of the people I saw were more important than gaining that title. If losing my title is what would be required to save someone’s life—and if there were no other consequences—I’d do it. Every time. Not saving them wouldn’t be serving a higher good; it would just be selfish.”
Barasine’s eyes opened wide with anger. Nynaeve turned to walk—with some difficulty—to the side of the room, where she could sit on a bench and rest. The women gathered together to speak softly, and Egwene walked—still serene—over to Nynaeve. The Amyrlin sat down beside her. Though she had been allowed to participate in the test, and create some of the experiences that tested Nynaeve, the choice of the raising would be up to the others.
“You’ve angered them,” Egwene said. “And confused them.”
“I spoke the truth,” Nynaeve grumbled.
“Perhaps,” Egwene said. “But I wasn’t speaking of your outburst. During the test, you flouted the orders you were given.”
“I couldn’t flout them. I didn’t remember that I’d been given them. I…well, actually I could remember what I was supposed to do, but not the reasons.” Nynaeve grimaced. “That’s why I broke the rules. I thought they were just arbitrary. I couldn’t remember why I wasn’t supposed to run, so in the face of seeing people die, it seemed silly to walk.”
“The rules are supposed to hold strongly, even though you don’t remember them,” Egwene said. “And you should not have been able to channel before reaching the marker. That is in the very nature of the test.”
Nynaeve frowned. “Then how—”
“You’ve spent too much time in Tel’aran’rhiod. This test…it seems to function much in the same way as the World of Dreams. What we create in our minds became your surroundings.” Egwene clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “I warned them that this might be a danger. Your practice in the World of Dreams made you innately able to break the test.”
Nynaeve didn’t reply to that, feeling sick. What if she did fail? Being cast out of the Tower now, after getting so close?
“I think your infractions might help you, however,” Egwene said softly.
“What?”
“You’re too experienced to have been given this test,” Egwene explained. “In a way, what happened is proof that you deserved the shawl when I granted it to you. You performed each of the weaves expertly, with speed and skill. I particularly liked the way you used ‘useless’ weaves, on occasion, to attack the things you saw.”
“The fight in the Two Rivers,” Nynaeve said. “That one was you, wasn’t it? The others don’t know the place well enough to create it.”
“You can sometimes create visions and situations based on the mind of the woman being tested,” Egwene said. “It is an odd experience, using this ter’angreal. One that I am not certain I understand.”
“But the Two Rivers was you.”
“Yes,” Egwene admitted.
“And the last one. With Lan?”
Egwene nodded. “I’m sorry. I thought that if I didn’t do it, nobody would—”
“I am glad that you did,” Nynaeve said. “It showed me something.”
“It did?”
Nynaeve nodded, back against the wall, holding the blanket in place and closing her eyes. “I realized that if I had to choose between becoming an Aes Sedai and going with Lan, I’d choose Lan. What people call me doesn’t change anything inside of me. Lan, however…he is more than a title. I can still channel—I can still be me—if I never become Aes Sedai. But I would never be myself again if I abandoned him. The world changed when I married him.”
She felt…freed, somehow, realizing it and saying it.
“Pray the others don’t realize that,” Egwene said. “It would not be good for them to determine that you would place anything before the White Tower.”
“I wonder if,” Nynaeve said, “we sometimes put the White Tower—as an institution—before the people we serve. I wonder if we let it become a goal in itself, instead of a means to help us achieve greater goals.”
“Devotion is important, Nynaeve. The White Tower protects and guides the world.”
“And yet, so many of us do it without families,” Nynaeve said. “Without love, without passion beyond our own particular interests. So even while we try to guide the world, we separate ourselves from it. We risk arrogance, Egwene. We always assume we know best, but risk making ourselves unable to fathom the people
