Gawyn accompanied Egwene across the yellowed grass to meet Elayne. The Andoran Queen had certainly taken her time. Only one day until the time specified by Rand. Still, she had come, as had others. Aiel had accompanied Darlin from Tear, and her persuasion had been enough to bring a large contingent of Illianers, who camped on the western side of the grass.
The Cairhienin were Elayne's now, by reports, and were coming through with the Andorans and a large number of men from the Band of the Red Hand. Egwene had sent an offer, and a woman to offer Traveling, to King Roedran of Murandy, but she was uncertain if he would come. Even without him, however, a considerable number of the world's nations were represented here, particularly since the flags of Ghealdan and Mayene could be seen among Perrin's armies. She would have to contact their two rulers and see if she could sway them to her way of thinking. But even if not, surely what she had gathered would be enough to convince Rand to change his plans. Light send it was enough. She didn't want to think of what would happen if he forced her hand.
She walked down the pathway, nodding back to sisters who nodded and Accepted who curtsied, soldiers who saluted and servants who bowed. Rand would—
"It can't be," Gawyn said suddenly, freezing in place.
"Gawyn?" she said, frowning. "Are you—"
He took off at a run across the weed-strewn hill. Egwene looked after him with dissatisfaction. He still had an impulsive streak. Why was he so upset, suddenly? It wasn't worry; she could feel that. It was confusion. She hastened after him with as much speed as decorum would allow. Elayne's envoy had stopped in the dead grass.
Gawyn was on his knees there, before someone. An older woman with red-gold hair, standing beside a smiling Elayne, who still sat her horse.
Ah, Egwene thought. Her spies had delivered word of this rumor just last night, but she'd wanted to confirm it before speaking to Gawyn.
Morgase Trakand lived.
Egwene stood back, for now. Once she stepped forward, Elayne would have to kiss her ring and the entire procession would bow; that would spoil Gawyn's moment. As she waited, the clouds above grew thinner.
Suddenly they split, the dark thunderheads pulling back. The sky became an open field of blue, a deep, pure expanse. Elayne's eyes opened wide, and she turned on her horse, looking at Perrin's section of camp.
He's come, then, Egwene thought. And the calm is here. The brief moment of peace before the storm that destroys.
"You give it a try, Emarin," Androl said, standing with a small group inside a stand of trees near the border of the Black Tower grounds.
The stately nobleman concentrated, holding the One Power. Weaves sprang up around him. He was remarkably skillful, considering his short time practicing, and expertly crafted the weave for a gateway.
Instead of opening a hole in the air, the weave unraveled and vanished. Emarin turned to the rest of them, sweat streaming down his face. "Forming those weaves seemed harder than before," he said.
"Why won't they work?" Evin said. The young man's youthful face flushed with anger—as if the problem with gateways was an insult.
Androl shook his head, arms folded. The trees rustled, leaves shivering, many falling to the ground. Brown, as if it were autumn. That unnerved him. He'd spent some time working the ground during his journeys in life, and had acquired a farmer's sense for right and wrong regarding the land.
"You try it again, Androl," Evin said. "You're always so good with gateways."
He glanced at the other three. Canler was the other one there; the aging Andoran farmer wore a deep frown. Of course, Canler often scowled at one thing or another.
Androl closed his eyes, emptying himself of all passions, embracing the void. Saidin shone in there, life and Power. He seized it, drinking it in. He opened his eyes to a world that was more vibrant. Could dead plants look both sickly and vibrant at the same time? A strange juxtaposition made possible by saidin.
He focused. Making gateways came so much easier to him than other weaves did; he'd never understood why. Though he couldn't break even a small rock apart by channeling, he could make a gateway large enough for a wagon to drive through. Logain had called it impressive; Taim had called it impossible.
This time, Androl pushed all of the Power he had into his weave. He understood gateways. They made sense. Maybe it was the innate fondness he had for traveling, for discovering new places and new arts.
The weaves came together. He didn't notice any of the difficulty that Emarin had mentioned. However, when the familiar slash of light should have come, the weave began to unravel instead. Androl tried to hold to it pulling it together. For a moment, it looked like that would work. Then the threads slid from his grip, evaporating. The gateway never formed.
"The other weaves I've tried all work," Evin said, making a globe of light. "Every one of them."
"Only gateways," Canler said with a grunt.
"It's like…" Emarin said. "It's as if something wants to keep us here. In the Black Tower."
"Try them in other places inside the perimeter," Androl said. "But try not to let any of Taim's loyalists see what you're doing. Pretend to be surveying, as Taim ordered."
The men nodded, the three of them hiking toward the east. Androl left the glade. Norley was standing beside the road, looking about for him. The short, thick-waisted Cairhienin man waved and approached. Androl met him halfway. Norley had an open, inviting smile. Nobody ever suspected him of spying on them, something Androl had put to good use.
"You spoke with Mezar?" Androl asked.
"Sure did," Norley replied. "Shared a lunch with him." Norley waved at Mishraile as they passed him supervising a group of soldiers practicing their weaves. The golden-haired man turned away dismissively.
"And?" Androl asked, tense.
"It's not really Mezar," Norley said. "Oh, it has Mezar's face, right enough. But it's not him. I can see it in his eyes. Trouble is, whatever the thing is, it has Mezar's memories. Talks right like him. But the smile is wrong. All wrong."
Androl shivered. "It has to be him, Norley."
"It ain't. I promise you that."
"But—"
"It just ain't," the stout man said.
Androl took a deep breath. When Mezar had returned a few days back—explaining that Logain was well and that all would soon be resolved with Taim—Androl had begun to hope that there was a way out of this mess. But something had seemed off about the man. Beyond that, the M'Hael had made a great show of accepting Mezar as a full Asha'man; the Dragon had raised him. And now Mezar—once fiercely loyal to Logain—was spending his time with Coteren and Taim's other lackeys.
"This is getting bad, Androl," Norley said softly, smiling and waving toward another group of practicing men. "I'd say it's time for us to leave here, whether or not it's against orders."
"We'd never get past those guard posts," Androl said. "Taim won't even let those Aes Sedai leave; you heard the fit that plump one threw at the gates the other day. Taim doubles the guard at night, and gateways don't work."
"Well, we have to do something, don't we? I mean… what if they've got Logain? What then?"
"I… I don't know. Go talk to the others who are loyal to Logain. I'm going to move us to a shared barrack. Them and their families. We'll tell the M'Hael that we want to give more space for his new recruits. Then we'll post a guard at nights."