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name?’ At worse, it’ll cut the tedium of the woman’s answers. Shall we take her down to

the cells, Katerine? I don’t dare leave Desala alone with the other one for long. She

despises wilders, and she purely hates women who claim to be Aes Sedai.”

“She’s not going to the cells, yet,” Katerine replied. “Elaida wants her taken to Silviana.”

“Well, as long as I learn that trick from this child or the other one.” Hitching her shawl up

onto her shoulders, Melare took a deep breath and headed back down the stairs, a woman

with labor ahead of her she was not looking forward to. She gave Egwene hope for

Leane, though. Leane was “the other one,” now, no longer “the wilder.”

Katerine set off down the corridor walking quickly, and in silence, but Barasine pushed

Egwene ahead of her after the other Red, muttering half under her breath about how

ridiculous it was to think that a sister could learn anything from a wilder, or from a

jumped-up Accepted who told outlandish lies. Maintaining some shreds of dignity was

difficult, to say the least, while being shoved down a hallway by a long-legged woman

with your mouth gaping open as wide as it would go and drool leaking down your chin,

but she managed as best she could. In truth, she hardly thought about it. Melare had given

her too much to think on. Melare added to the sisters in the coach. It could hardly mean

what it seemed to, but if it did….

Soon the blue-and-white floor tiles became red-and-green, and they approached an

unmarked wooden door between two tapestries of flowered trees and stout-beaked birds

so colorful they seemed unlikely to be real. Unmarked, but bright with polish and known

to every initiate of the Tower. Katerine rapped on the door with what might almost have

been a display of diffidence, and when a strong voice inside called, “Come,” she drew a

deep breath before pushing the door open. Did she have bad memories of entering here as

novice or Accepted, or was it the woman who awaited them who made her hesitant?

The study of the Mistress of Novices was exactly as Egwene recalled, a small, dark-

paneled room with plain, sturdy furnishings. A narrow table by the doorway was lightly

carved in a peculiar pattern, and bits of gilt clung to the carved frame of the mirror on one

wall, but nothing else was decorated in any way. The stand-lamps and the pair of lamps

on the writing table were unadorned brass, though of six different patterns. The woman

who held the office usually changed when a new Amyrlin was raised, yet Egwene was

ready to wager that a woman who had come to this room as a novice two hundred years

ago would recognize nearly every stick and perhaps everything.

The current Mistress of Novices—in the Tower, at least—was on her feet when they

entered, a stocky woman nearly as tall as Barasine, with a dark bun on the back of her

head and a square, determined chin. There was an air of brooking no nonsense about

Silviana Brehon. She was a Red, and her charcoal-colored skirts had discreet red slashes,

but her shawl lay draped across the back of the chair behind the writing table. Her large

eyes were unsettling, however. They seemed to take in everything about Egwene in a

glance, as though the woman not only knew every thought in her head, but also what she

would think tomorrow.

“Leave her with me and wait outside,” Silviana said in a low, firm voice.

“Leave her?” Katerine said incredulously.

“Which words did you not understand, Katerine? Need I repeat myself?”

Apparently she did not. Katerine flushed, but she said no more. The glow of saidar

surrounded Silviana, and she took over the shield smoothly, without giving any opening

when Egwene might have embraced the Power herself. She was certain that she could,

now. Except that Silviana was far from weak; there was no hope she could break the

woman’s shield. The gag of Air disappeared at the same time, and she contented herself

with digging a handkerchief from her belt pouch and calmly wiping her chin. The pouch

had been searched—she always kept the handkerchief on top, not beneath everything

else—but learning whether anything besides her ring had been taken would have to wait.

There had not been anything of much use to a prisoner in any case. A comb, a packet of

needles, some small scissors, odds and ends. The Amyrlin’s stole. What sort of dignity

she could maintain while being birched was beyond her, but that was the future; this was

now.

Silviana studied her, arms folded beneath her breasts, until the door closed behind the

other two Reds. “You aren’t hysterical, at least,” she said then. “That makes matters

easier, but why aren’t you hysterical?”

“Would it do any good?” Egwene replied, returning the handkerchief to her pouch. “I

can’t see how.”

Silviana strode to the writing table and stood reading from a sheet of paper there,

occasionally glancing up. Her expression was a perfect mask of Aes Sedai serenity,

unreadable. Egwene waited patiently, hands folded at her waist. Even upside down she

could recognize Elaida’s distinctive hand on that page, if not read what it said. The

woman need not think she would grow nervous at waiting. Patience was one of the few

weapons left to her, at present.

“It seems the Amyrlin has been mulling over what to do about you for some time,”

Silviana said finally. If she had expected Egwene to begin shifting her feet or wringing

her hands, she gave no sign of disappointment. “She has a very complete plan ready. She

doesn’t want the Tower to lose you. Nor do I. Elaida has decided that you have been used

as a dupe by others and should not be held accountable. So you will not be charged with

claiming to be Amyrlin. She has stricken your name from the roll of the Accepted and

entered it in the novice book again. I agree with that decision, frankly, though it’s never

been done before. Whatever your ability with the Power, you missed almost everything

else you should have learned as a novice. You needn’t fear that you’ll have to take the

test again, though. I wouldn’t force anyone to go through that twice.”

“I am Aes Sedai by virtue of having been raised to the Amyrlin Seat,” Egwene replied

calmly. There was no incongruity in fighting for a title when claiming it might still lead

to her death. Acquiescence would be as sharp a blow to the rebellion as her execution.

Maybe sharper. A novice again? That was laughable! “I can cite the relevant passages in

the law, if you wish.”

Silviana arched an eyebrow and sat down to open a large leather bound book. The

punishments book. Dipping her pen in the simple glass ink jar, she made a notation.

“You’ve just earned your first visit to me. I’ll give you the night to think about it rather

than putting you over my knee now. Let’s hope contemplation increases the salubrious

effect.”

“Do you think you can make me deny who I am with a spanking?” Egwene was hard put

to keep incredulity from her voice. She was not sure she succeeded.

“There are spankings and spankings,” the other woman replied. Wiping the nib clean on a

scrap, she replaced the pen in its glass holder and considered Egwene. “You’re

accustomed to Sheriam Bayanar as Mistress of Novices.” Silviana shook her head

disparagingly. “I’ve browsed her punishments book. She let the girls get away with too

much, and was far too lenient with her favorites. As a result, she was forced to deal out

correction much more often that she should have had to. I record a third of the

punishments in a month that Sheriam did, because I make sure that everyone I punish

leaves here wishing above all things never to be sent to me again.”

“Whatever you do, you’ll never make me deny who I am,” Egwene said firmly. “How

can you possibly think you can make this work? Am I to be escorted to classes, shielded

all the while?”

Silviana leaned back against her shawl, resting her hands on the edge of the table. “You

mean to resist as long as you can, do you?”

“I will do what I must.”

“And I will do what I must. During the day, you will not be shielded at all. But every

hour you will be given a mild tincture of forkroot.” Silviana’s mouth twisted on the word.

She picked up the sheet that contained Elaida’s notes as if to read, then let it drop back

onto the tabletop, rubbing her fingertips as though something noxious clung to them. “I

cannot like the stuff. It seems aimed directly at Aes Sedai. Someone who cannot channel

can drink five times the amount that makes a sister pass out and barely grow dizzy from

it. A disgusting brew. Yet useful, it seems. Perhaps it can be used on those Asha’man.

The tincture won’t make you dizzy, but you won’t be able to channel enough to cause

any problems. Only trickles. Refuse to drink, and it will be poured down your throat

anyway. You’ll be closely watched as well, so you don’t try to slip away afoot. At night,

you will be shielded, since giving you enough forkroot to make you sleep through the

night would leave you doubled up with stomach cramps the next day.

“You are a novice, Egwene, and you will be a novice. Many sisters still consider you a

runaway, no matter what orders Siuan Sanche gave, and others doubtless will think

Elaida wrong not to have you beheaded. They’ll watch for every infraction, every fault.

You may sneer at a spanking now, before you’ve received it, but when you’re being sent

to me for five, six, seven every day? We’ll see how long it takes you to change your

mind.”

Egwene surprised herself by giving a small laugh, and Silviana’s eyebrows shot up. Her

hand twitched as though to reach for her pen.

“Did I say something funny, child?”

“Not at all,” Egwene replied truthfully. It had occurred to her that she could deal with the

pain by embracing it in the Aiel manner. She hoped it worked, but there went all hope for

dignity. While she was being punished, at least. For the rest, she could only do what she

could.

Silviana glanced at her pen, but finally stood without touching it. “Then I am done with

you. For tonight. I will see you before breakfast, however. Come with me.”

She started for the door, confident that Egwene would follow, and Egwene did. Attacking

the other woman physically would achieve no more than another entry in the book.

Forkroot. Well, she would find a way around that somehow. If not…. She refused to

think about that.

Katerine and Barasine were startled to say the least at hearing Elaida’s plans for Egwene,

and not best pleased to learn that they would be watching her and shielding her while she

slept, although Silviana told them she would arrange for other sisters to come after an

hour or two.

“Why both of us?” Katerine wanted to know, which earned her a wry glance from

Barasine. If only one were sent, it surely would not be Katerine, who stood higher.

“Firstly, because I said so.” Silviana waited until the other two Reds nodded in

acceptance. They did so with obvious reluctance, but not enough to make her wait long.

She had not put on her shawl to come into the hallway, and in some odd fashion, she

seemed the one out of place. “And secondly, because this child is tricky, I think. I want

her watched carefully awake or asleep. Which of you has her ring?”

After a moment, Barasine produced the circle of gold from her belt pouch, muttering, “I

only thought to keep it as a memento. Of the rebels being brought to heel. They’re

finished, now, for sure.” A memento? It was stealing was what it was!

Egwene reached for the ring, but Silviana’s hand got there first, and it was into her pouch

that the ring went. “I’ll keep this until you have the right to wear it again, child. Now take

her to the novice quarters and settle her in. A room should have been prepared by now.”

Katerine resumed the shield, and Barasine reached for Egwene’s arm again, but Egwene

stretched out a hand toward Silviana. “Wait. There’s something I must tell you.” She had

agonized over this. It would be all too easy to reveal far more than she wanted. But she

had to do it. “I have the Talent of Dreaming. I’ve learned to tell the true dreams, and to

interpret some of them. I dreamt of a glass lamp that burned with a white flame. Two

ravens flew out of mist, struck the lamp, and flew on. The lamp wobbled, flinging off

droplets of flaming oil. Some of those burned up in midair, other landed scattered about,

and the lamp still wobbled on the edge of falling. It means the Seanchan will attack the

White Tower and do great harm.”

Barasine sniffed. Katerine gave a derisive snort.

“A Dreamer,” Silviana said flatly. “Is there anyone who can back up your claim? And if