CHAPTER 46
To Be Forged Again
After crossing the bridge to Tar Valon as a victor, the day nearly became a blur for Egwene. She hastened to the White Tower, Siuan and Gawyn barely managing to keep up with her. At the Tower, Egwene was met by a group of servants; the Sitters themselves were waiting in the Hall for Egwene.
The servants led her to an unadorned, wood-paneled chamber set with a pair of leather-padded chairs. Egwene had never been here before; it appeared to be a kind of waiting room near the Hall. It smelled of leather, and a small brazier burned coals in the corner.
Soon, a short, toadlike Brown sister named Lairain entered and instructed Egwene on the proper way to go about the ceremony. The little curly-haired woman seemed completely indifferent to the importance of the moment, and Egwene had never met her before. Likely, she was one of the Browns who spent her life roaming the back library stacks, and only surfaced once a century or so to recite instructions to prospective Amyrlins. Egwene listened carefully; she’d gone through the ceremony once, but it was very complex.
She could still remember her nervousness on that day, months ago, when she’d been raised in Salidar. Back then, she’d still been confused as to what was happening. Her? Amyrlin?
That hesitation was gone. She did not really worry about getting the ceremony wrong. It was only a ceremony, and the important decision had already been made. As Egwene listened to Lairain, she heard Siuan arguing outside the doors with one of the sisters, claiming that Egwene had already been raised, and that this ceremony wasn’t needed. Egwene quieted Lairain with a raised hand and called out to Siuan.
Siuan peeked in the door.
“I was raised by the rebels, Siuan,” Egwene said sternly. “These women deserve the chance to stand for me as well. Otherwise, I will never have a claim to their loyalty. The ceremony must be performed again.”
Siuan scowled, but nodded. “Very well.”
Lairain opened her mouth to continue instructions, but Egwene silenced her with another motion, earning a huff. “What news have you, Siuan?”
“Well,” Siuan said, cracking the door a little wider, “Bryne moved most of his troops across the bridges, and has relieved the Tower Guard from their positions at the fortifications, sending them in—along with a number of his own squads—to help put out flareups around the city. The Seanchan set some homes on fire to cover their retreat as they fled.”
That explained the lack of troops at the barricade—that, along with the knowledge that the Hall was busy debating whether or not to raise Egwene. They likely didn’t realize how close they’d come to war.
“What do you want to do with the sisters from your camp?” Siuan asked. “They’re starting to wonder.”
“Tell them to gather in front of the Sunset Gate,” Egwene said. “Have them stand in ranks by Ajah, with Sitters in a line at the front. Once I am finished with the ceremony, I will greet them and formally accept their apology for their rebellion and welcome them back into the Tower.”
“Accept their apology?” Siuan asked incredulously.
“They rebelled against the Tower, Siuan,” Egwene said, looking at her. “Whatever the need of what they did, there is reason for apology.”
“But you were with them!”
“I no longer represent just them, Siuan,” Egwene said firmly. “I represent the Tower. The entire Tower. And the Tower needs to know that the rebels regret the division. They needn’t lie and say that they wished they had stayed, but I think it is appropriate for them to express sorrow over the hardships the division caused. I will acquit them, and we can get on with healing.”
“Yes, Mother,” Siuan said in resignation. Egwene caught sight of Tesan standing behind, the woman nodding her Taraboner-braided head at Egwene’s words.
Egwene let Lairain continue her instructions, then repeated back to her the lines she would have to say and the actions she’d have to take. When the Brown was satisfied, Egwene rose, pulled open the door and found that Siuan had left to relay her orders. Tesan stood in the hallway outside, arms folded, regarding Gawyn. He leaned against the wall a short distance away, his hand resting on the pommel of his sheathed sword.
“Your Warder?” Tesan asked of Egwene.
She regarded Gawyn, and was forced to confront a whole mess of emotions. Anger, affection, passion and regret. What a strange mix. “No,” she said. She stared Gawyn in the eyes. “What I am going to do next you cannot be part of, Gawyn. Wait here.”
He opened his mouth to object, thought better of it, then stood up stiffly and bowed. That gesture felt even more insolent than an argument would have.
Egwene sniffed softly—yet loud enough for him to hear—then allowed Tesan to lead her to the Hall of the Tower. The Hall: both a place and a group of people. For they were one, just as the Amyrlin Seat was a person, yet was also the chair in which she sat.
She stopped before the doors to the Hall, the dark wood inlaid with the silver Flame of Tar Valon, and felt her heart flutter rebelliously. Siuan suddenly appeared, with a pair of slippers, gesturing at Egwene’s riding boots. Of course; the Hall floor was delicately painted. She changed into the slippers; Siuan took her boots away. There was no need to be nervous! I’ve been here before, she thought suddenly. Not just in Salidar. In my testing. I’ve faced this door, confronted the women beyond. In my testing . . .
A gong suddenly sounded; it seemed loud enough to shake the entire Tower, ringing to warn that an Amyrlin was about to be raised. The gong rang again, then again, and those ornate doors swung open. Yes, this was a different experience entirely from the one she’d had back in that humble wooden building where she’d been raised by the Salidar Aes Sedai. In many ways, her performance in Salidar had been but a rehearsal.
The doors finished opening, and Egwene stifled a gasp. The grand, domed room beyond now had a blasted hole—a gaping emptiness—directly across from the entrance. It looked out at Dragonmount. The chamber wasn’t as damaged as some had been in the Seanchan attack; the rubble was minimal, and the destruction had barely reached past that outer wall. The raised platform still ran around the outside of the room, and the chairs it held were undamaged. Eighteen of them, in clusters of three, each painted and cushioned to declare the Ajah of its inhabitant.
The Amyrlin Seat stood by the far wall, directly in front of the broken wall, its back to the sprawling landscape beyond and distant Dragonmount. If the Seanchan blast had gone a few feet farther inward, the Seat would have been destroyed. Thank the Light, it was unmarred.
Egwene could faintly smell paint in the air. Had they hurriedly had the Seat repainted to bear all seven colors again? If so, they’d worked quickly. They hadn’t had time to replace the seats of the Blue Sitters, however.
Egwene noted Saerin, Doesine and Yukiri sitting with their respective Ajahs. Seaine was there as well, regarding Egwene with those calculating blue eyes. How much power had these four women wielded in these events? Square-faced Suana, of the Yellow, was smiling openly in satisfaction as she regarded Egwene, and while most of the faces bore the serene, unemotional faces of Aes Sedai, Egwene sensed approval in their postures. Or, at least, a lack of hostility. More than just the Black Ajah hunters had been behind this decision.
Saerin stood up from her chair in the Brown section. “Who comes before the Hall of the Tower?” she asked in a ringing voice.
Egwene hesitated, still looking over the Sitters, their seats arranged around the outer platform, equally spaced. Too many of those chairs were empty. There were only two Green Sitters; Talene had fled weeks ago. The Gray were missing Evanellein, who had vanished earlier in the day. Velina and Sedore were gone as well. That didn’t bode well; those two were on Verin’s list of Black Ajah. Had they been warned? Did Evanellein’s disappearance mean Verin had missed her?
There were no Red sisters either. With a start, Egwene remembered that Duhara had left the Tower some weeks before—nobody knew why, but some said it had been on a mission for Elaida. Perhaps she was about Black Ajah business. The other two red Sitters, Javindhra and Pevara, had vanished mysteriously.
That left eleven Sitters. Not enough to raise an Amyrlin by the old laws of the Tower—but those had been revised with Elaida’s disbanding of the Blue. Fewer Sitters meant fewer women needed to raise an Amyrlin, and now only eleven were required. It would have to do. At least each and every Sitter currently in the Tower knew of this event; it wasn’t in secret, like Elaida’s raising. And Egwene could be reasonably certain no Black Sitters would stand for her.
Saerin cleared her throat, glancing at Egwene uncertainly, and called again, “Who comes before the Hall of the Tower?”
Tesan leaned in from the side, as if to hiss the proper response to Egwene. Egwene, however, cut her off by holding up a hand.
There was something Egwene had been considering, something audacious. Yet it was appropriate. She knew that it was. She could feel that it was. “The Red Ajah is in disgrace?” she asked quietly of Tesan.
The White nodded, braided hair brushing the sides of her face. “The Reds, you needn’t worry about them,” she said in her light Taraboner accent. “Following Elaida’s disappearance, they retreated back to their quarters. The Sitters here, they worried that the Red would choose new Sitters quickly and send them to this proceeding. I believe some . . . curt missives from the Hall of the Tower were enough to cow them.”
“And Silviana Brehon? Still imprisoned?”
“She is, as far as I know, Mother,” Tesan said, slipping for a moment and using the title, though Egwene hadn’t been formally raised by the Hall yet. “Don’t worry, Leane—she has been freed. We had her escorted out to stand with the other rebels, awaiting your forgiveness.”
Egwene nodded thoughtfully. “Have Silviana brought here, to the Hall of the Tower, immediately.”
Tesan’s brow wrinkled. “Mother, I don’t think this is the time—”
“Just do it,” Egwene hissed, then turned to face the Hall. “One who comes obediently, in the Light,” she pronounced in a firm voice.
Saerin relaxed. “Who comes before the Hall of the Tower?”
“One who comes humbly, in the Light,” Egwene responded. She stared at each of the Sitters. A firm hand. She would have to be firm. They needed leadership.
“Who comes before the Hall of the Tower?” Saerin finished.
“One who comes at the summons of the Hall,” Egwene said, “obedient and humble in the Light, asking only to accept the will of the Hall.”
The ceremony proceeded, each of the Sitters stripping to the waist to prove she was a woman. Egwene did the same, and barely gave a blush at the thought of Gawyn, who had clearly thought she should bring him along to the event.
“Who stands for this woman?” Saerin asked after the Sitters had re-dressed. Egwene had to remain stripped to the waist for now, and the cool breeze through the broken wall was chill on her skin. “And pledges for her, heart for heart, soul for soul, life for life?”
Yukiri, Seaine and Suana stood quickly. “I so pledge,” each of them announced.
The first time Egwene had experienced this ceremony, she had been in shock. At each step, she’d been terrified she’d make an error. Worse, she’d been terrified that it would all turn out to be a ruse or a mistake.
That fear was gone. As the ritual questions were asked—as Egwene stepped forward three steps and knelt on the smooth floor, repainted by Elaida’s order with only six colors spiraling out of the mark of the Flame of Tar Valon—Egwene saw through the pomp and looked at the core of what was happening. These women were terrified. As had been the women in Salidar. The Amyrlin Seat was a force of stability, and they reached for it.
Why had she been chosen? Both times, it seemed the same answer. Because she was the only one they could all agree upon. There were smiling faces in this group. But they were the smiles of women who had succeeded in keeping rivals off of the Seat. Either that, or they were the smiles of women who were relieved that someone was stepping up to take leadership. And, perhaps, there were some who smiled because they weren’t the ones who had to take the Seat. Its recent history had been fraught with danger, dissension, and two dramatic tragedies.
Originally, in Salidar, Egwene had thought the women were being idiots. She was more experienced now, and hopefully wiser as well. She could see that they hadn’t been fools. They’d been Aes Sedai—covering their fear by being overly cautious, yet brazen at the same time. Choosing someone they wouldn’t mind seeing fall. Taking a risk, but not putting themselves in direct danger.
These women were doing the same. They covered their fear with smooth faces and acts of control. When the time came for the Sitters to stand in her support, Egwene was not surprised that all eleven rose to their feet. Not a single dissent. There would be no foot washing during this ceremony.
No, she was not surprised. They knew that there was no other option, not with an army on their doorstep, not with Elaida as good as dead. The Aes Sedai thing to do was act as if there had never been any argument. The consensus must be reached.
Saerin looked surprised that nobody had chosen to remain seated, if only to prove that she would not be bullied. In fact, more than one of the Sitters seemed surprised, and Egwene suspected that they were regretting their decision to stand up so quickly. One could gain some measure of power by being the only person who remained seated, forcing Egwene to wash her feet and ask for permission to serve. Of course, that also could have singled the woman out, and earned her the dislike of the new Amyrlin.
The women slowly took their seats. Egwene needed no guidance, and none was offered. She rose and strode across the hall, her slippered feet silent on the painted stone of the Flame. A gust of wind blew through the room, ruffling shawls, blowing across Egwene’s bare skin. It said something for the strength of the Hall that they had chosen to meet here, despite the dizzying view out of the far wall.
Saerin met Egwene at the Seat. The olive-skinned Altaran began to button Egwene’s bodice with careful fingers, then reverently lifted the Amyrlin’s stole from the Seat. It was the one with all seven colors, recovered from wherever Elaida had discarded it. Saerin regarded Egwene for a moment, hefting the stole, as if judging it.
“Are you certain you want to bear this weight, child?” Saerin asked in a very soft voice. This was not part of the ceremony.
“I bear it already, Saerin.” Egwene’s reply was almost a whisper. “Elaida cast it aside when she tried to slice it and divide it as she wished. I took it up and have carried it since. I would bear it to my death. And will.”
Saerin nodded. “I think that might be why you deserve it,” she said. “I doubt anything in the histories will compare to the days ahead. I suspect that, in the future, scholars will look back on our days and judge them to be more difficult—more trying of mind, body and soul—than the Time of Madness or the Breaking itself.”
“Then it’s a good thing the world has us, isn’t it?” Egwene asked.
Saerin hesitated, then nodded. “I suppose it is at that.” She raised the stole and set it upon Egwene’s shoulders. “You are raised to the Amyrlin Seat!” she declared, the voices of the other Sitters joining in, “In the glory of the Light, that the White Tower may endure forever. Egwene al’Vere, the Watcher of the Seals, the Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat!”
Egwene turned to regard the group of women, then sat down in the chair. She felt as if she had returned home after a very long journey. The world bowed beneath the stress of the Dark One’s touch, but it felt a little more right—a little more secure—the moment she took her place.
The women arranged themselves before her in order of age, with Saerin at the very end. One at a time they curtsied deeply before her, asked her permission to serve, then kissed her Great Serpent ring and stepped aside. As they did so, Egwene noticed that Tesan had finally returned. She peeked in to be certain everyone was dressed, then returned a moment later leading a group of four guards with the Flame of Tar Valon burning white on their chests. Egwene suppressed a sigh. They’d brought Silviana in chains, it appeared.
After kissing her ring, the Sitters returned to their chairs. There was some little more to the ceremony, but the important part was through with. Egwene was Amyrlin, really and truly, at long last. She had waited so long for this moment.
Now it was time for some surprises.
“Release the prisoner’s chains,” Egwene said.
Reluctantly, the soldiers outside the room did as demanded, the metal clinking. The Sitters turned with confused expressions.
“Silviana Brehon!” Egwene declared, standing up. “You may approach the Amyrlin Seat.”
The soldiers stepped aside and allowed Silviana to enter. Her red dress had once been fine, but she had not been well treated by Elaida’s confinement. Her black hair—normally kept in a bun—was instead coarsely braided. Her dress was rumpled, the knees dirty. And yet her square face was serene.
Surprisingly, she knelt before Egwene after walking across the room. Egwene lowered her hand and let the woman kiss her ring.
The Sitters watched, confused that Egwene had broken the ceremony. “Mother,” Yukiri finally asked. “Is this the best time to be dispensing judgment?”
Egwene withdrew her hand from the kneeling Silviana and looked directly at Yukiri, then turned her gaze across the waiting Sitters. “You all bear a great deal of shame,” she said.
Stiff-faced Aes Sedai raised eyebrows and opened eyes wider. They seemed angry. They had no right! Their anger was nothing beside hers.
“This,” Egwene said, gesturing toward the broken wall. “You bear responsibility for this.” She pointed at Silviana, still kneeling. “You bear responsibility for this. You bear responsibility for the way our sisters regard one another in the halls, and you bear responsibility for letting the Tower remain so long in division. Many of you bear responsibility for that division on the first place!
“You are a disgrace. The White Tower—the pride of the Light, the power for stability and truth since the Age of Legends—has nearly been shattered because of you.”
Eyes bugged out, and a few women choked in shock. “Elaida—” one began.
“Elaida was a madwoman, and you all know it!” Egwene said sternly, standing tall, staring them down. “You knew it these last few months as she worked unwittingly to destroy us. Light, many of you probably knew it when you raised her in the first place!
“There have been foolish Amyrlins before, but none have come as close to tearing down the entire Tower! You are a check upon the Amyrlin. You are to keep her from doing things like this! You allowed her to disband an entire Ajah? What were you thinking? How is it that you allowed the Tower to fall so far? And when the Dragon Reborn himself walks the land, no less!
“You should have removed Elaida the moment you heard of her disastrous attempt to confine Rand al’Thor. You should have removed her when you saw how her bickering and pettiness was turning Ajahs against one another. And you should certainly have removed her when she refused to do what was needed to bring the Tower together again, whole as one!”
Egwene looked down the lines of sisters, staring at each one in turn, meeting each set of eyes until they looked away. None dared hold her gaze for long. Finally, she saw shame begin to peek through their masks. As well it should!
“None of you would stand up to her,” Egwene spat. “You dare call yourself the Hall of the Tower? You who were cowed? You who were too frightened to do what was needed? You who were too caught up in your own squabbles and politicking to see what was needed?”
Egwene looked down at Silviana. “Only one woman in this room was willing to stand up for what she knew to be right. Only one woman dared defy Elaida, and she accepted the price of doing so. And you think I brought this woman here to exact vengeance on her? Are you really so blinded that you think I’d punish the only person in the entire Tower who did anything of decency these last few months?”
They were all looking down, now. Even Saerin wouldn’t meet her eyes.
Silviana looked up at her.
“You did your duty, Silviana,” Egwene said. “And you did it well. Rise.”
The woman stood. She looked haggard, eyes puffy from lack of sleep, and Egwene suspected she was having trouble standing. Had anyone seen to bringing her food or water during the chaos of the last few days?
“Silviana,” Egwene said, “a new Amyrlin has been raised. And, it shames me to say, it was done with subterfuge similar to Elaida’s raising. Of the seven Ajahs, only five were represented. The Blue I know would support me, were they here. But the Red were not even given a chance to voice their dissent or approval.”
“There are good reasons for that, Mother,” Silviana said.
“That may be true,” Egwene said, “but it all but ensures that my reign will be marked with tension between myself and the Red. They will perceive ill will where there is none, and I will lose the strength of hundreds of women. Women that will be sorely needed.”
“I . . . don’t see any way around that, Mother,” Silviana said, honestly.
“I do,” Egwene said. “Silviana Brehon, I would have you as my Keeper of the Chronicles. Let it not be said that I spurned the Red.”
Silviana blinked in surprise. There were a few gasps from the Sitters, though Egwene did not mark whose they were.
She stared Silviana in the eyes. Just a short time ago, this woman had had Egwene over the side of the desk, paddling her at Elaida’s command. But Silviana now knelt; she had done so without needing an order. She accepted the Hall’s authority to raise Egwene. Did she accept Egwene herself?
Egwene’s offer would place her on a difficult and dangerous road. The Reds might see it as a betrayal. What would Silviana’s response be? Egwene blessed the trick that kept her from sweating, otherwise she knew that drops would have been trickling down the sides of her face.
“I would be honored, Mother,” Silviana said, kneeling again. “Truly honored.”
Egwene let out a breath. Her task of reuniting the fractured Ajahs would be difficult—but if the Reds saw her as an enemy, it would be nearly impossible. With Silviana on her side, she would have an envoy to the Reds who would not be rejected. Hopefully.
“This will be a difficult time for the Red Ajah, daughter,” Egwene said. “Their nature has always been to capture men who can channel, but reports claim that saidin is cleansed.”
“There will still be rogue channelers, Mother,” Silviana said. “And men are not to be trusted.”
Someday, we will have to move beyond that last sentiment, Egwene thought. But for now, it is true enough to let stand. “I didn’t say that your purpose would vanish, only that it would change. I see great things for the Red Ajah in the future—an expanding of vision, a renewal of duty. I am pleased to have you at my side to help guide them.”
Egwene looked up at the Sitters, who were watching in stunned silence. “I’d order you all to do penance,” Egwene said, “save for the fact that I know some of you, at least, were working behind the scenes to stop the crumbling of the White Tower. You didn’t do enough, but you did something. Beyond that, I think that the penance we often demand of ourselves is ridiculous. What is physical pain to Aes Sedai?”
Egwene took a deep breath. “And I am not guiltless either. I share some of your shame, for it was during my tenure that these disasters occurred. I sided with the rebels, allowed myself to be raised by them because it was the only choice. But that choice still gives me culpability.
“Bear your shame, Sitters, but bear it with determination. Do not let it break you. The time for healing has begun, and there is no longer any use in pointing fingers. You failed. But you are all that we have. We are all that the world has.”
The women began to look up.
“Come,” Egwene said, striding through the room, Silviana smoothly falling into step beside her. “Let us greet the rebels.”
They passed through the hallways of the Tower, which still smelled of smoke and were strewn with rubble in places. Egwene tried not to look at the bloodstains. The Sitters followed behind, clustering in Ajah groups, despite Egwene’s recent chastisement. There would still be a lot of work to heal them.
“Mother,” Silviana said quietly as they walked, “I can only assume that you had a Keeper already, among the rebels. Do you intend to maintain two of us?” Her tense voice revealed what she thought of such an unconventional arrangement.
“No,” Egwene said. “My previous Keeper was executed for being of the Black Ajah.”
“We can’t dance around these things, Silviana,” Egwene said. “I received a very important visitor just before my . . . rescue. She was of the Black, and betrayed to me the names of other Black sisters. I have confirmed each of those who were among the rebel Aes Sedai through use of the Oath Rod.”
“The Oath Rod?” Silviana exclaimed.
“Yes,” Egwene said as they entered a stairwell. “I was given it last night by an ally in the Tower. Though, it occurs to me that we’ll have to move the room with the ter’angreal. And keep the location secret and constantly warded. It won’t be long before every sister with sufficient power knows the weave for Traveling, and I wouldn’t put it past many of them—including those I trust—to ‘borrow’ angreal now and again.”
“Yes, Mother,” Silviana said. Then, in a quieter voice. “I’m going to have to get used to a lot of things changing, I suspect.”
“I’m afraid so,” Egwene said. “Not the least of which will be the need to choose a proper Mistress of Novices, one who can deal with hundreds of new initiates—many of whom are not of the standard age. I’ve already begun the process of accepting for training any woman, no matter how old, who shows some measure of ability with channeling. I suspect that before long, the White Tower will be bursting at the seams with novices.”
“I shall consider suggestions for a replacement quickly then, Mother,” Silviana said.
Egwene nodded in approval. Romanda and Lelaine would undoubtedly be livid when they discovered what Egwene had done in choosing Silviana, but the more she considered it, the more satisfied Egwene was. Not just because Silviana was Red, but because she was so capable. Saerin would have been a fair choice, but many would have seen her as being Egwene’s guide, and perhaps the real power behind the Seat. Picking a Blue would have been too divisive for the current state of the Tower. And besides, with an Amyrlin who was one of the rebels—nobody would soon forget that, no matter what Egwene said or did—it would go a long way toward healing relations to have a Keeper who had been a loyalist.
Before long, they reached the Tower’s Great Square, on the east side of the building. The square was filled—as per her orders—by women in ranks by Ajah. Egwene had chosen this position because of the tall steps leading up to the Tower, topped by a spacious landing. She stood there, back to the majestically carved doors. It was a perfect location from which to address a crowd.
It was also situated between the wings, which had taken the worst damage during the attack the previous night. The east wing still smoldered; the dome had collapsed; one of the walls had fallen in. However, from this vantage, the Tower itself was relatively free of scars, and neither of the gaping holes was directly visible.
Egwene could see faces lining the lower windows. Aes Sedai and novices alike watched her. It seemed that in addition to the rebels, Egwene had an opportunity to address the majority of the remaining occupants of the Tower. She made a weave to enhance her voice. Not to booming levels, but enough to let her be heard both from behind and below.
“Sisters,” she said, “daughters. I have been raised properly to the Amyrlin Seat. Both sides of this conflict have chosen me. Both followed the prescribed methods, and both now accept me as their Amyrlin. It is time to join together again.
“I will not pretend that our division did not take place. We of the White Tower are sometimes too eager to forget those facts we don’t want to acknowledge. This one cannot be hidden, not from us who lived it. We were divided. We nearly came to war with one another. We have disgraced ourselves.
“You rebels before me have done something terrible. You have shattered the Tower and raised up a rival Amyrlin. For the first time, troops have been marshaled by Aes Sedai against Aes Sedai. I led those troops. I know of this shame.
“Necessary or not, it is a shame. And so it is that I require your admission of guilt. You must take responsibility for your crimes, even those performed in the name of the greater good.”
She looked down at the Aes Sedai below. If her action of forcing them into ranks—then making them wait upon her will—hadn’t made them aware of her attitude, then perhaps her words would.
“You did not come here in glory,” Egwene said to them. “You did not come here victorious. For there is no victory, and could have been no victory, when sister fought sister and Warder died to Warder.” She noted Siuan standing near the front of the ranks and met her eyes across the distance. Leane was there, too, looking disheveled from her long imprisonment, but standing erect.
“Mistakes have been made on both sides,” Egwene said. “And we will all have to work hard to repair what we have done. It is said by blacksmiths that a sword can never be whole again once it has been shattered. It must be completely reforged, the metal melted down to slag, then reworked and re-formed.
“These next few months will be our re-forming. We have been broken, then torn down nearly to roots. The Last Battle approaches, and before it arrives, I mean to see that we are once again a sword forged with strength, whole and unbroken! I will make demands of you. They will be harsh. They will stretch you to the limits of what you think you can bear. I will take these burned holes and fill them! Accommodations will have to be made, for between us there are far too many Sitters for the Hall, not to mention five too many Ajah heads. Some of you will have to step down and bow yourselves in humility before those you dislike.
“These days will test you! I will force you to work with those you saw as enemies just hours ago. You will march alongside those who spurned you, or hurt you, or hated you.
“But we are stronger than our weaknesses. The White Tower stands, and we shall stand with it! We will become one again. We will be an assembly that tales will tell of! When I am finished with you, it will not be written that the White Tower was weak. Our divisions will be forgotten in the face of our victories. We will be remembered not as the White Tower who turned against itself, but as the White Tower who stood strong in the face of the Shadow. These days will be legendary!”
Cheers burst out, mostly from novices and soldiers, as the Aes Sedai were too reserved for that sort of behavior. Generally. Some younger ones did call out, caught up in the moment. Thankfully, those cheers came from both sides. Egwene let them roar for a moment, then raised her arms, quieting them.
“Let it go forth across the land!” she shouted. “Let it be spoken of, let it be relied upon, and let it be remembered. The White Tower is whole and complete. And no one—man, woman or creation of the Shadow—will see us divided again!”
The cheers were nearly deafening this time, and surprisingly, more Aes Sedai joined in. Egwene lowered her hands.
She hoped they would still cheer her in the months to come. There was a great deal of work to be done.