Shadow Rising, The (22 page)
Read Shadow Rising, The Online
Authors: Robert Jordan
It cried out to be used, this Power pulsing through her stronger than heartblood. With this much, she could do things Moiraine could not dream of doing. The wound in Rand’s side that Moiraine could never Heal completely. She did not know Healing—it was considerably more complex than anything she had ever done—but she had watched Nynaeve Heal, and perhaps, with this great pool of the Power filling her, she could see something of how that could be Healed. Not to do it, of course; only to see.
Carefully she spun out hair-fine flows of Air and Water and Spirit, the Powers used for Healing, and felt for his old injury. One touch, and she recoiled, shivering, snatching back her weaving; her stomach churned as if every meal she had ever eaten wanted to come up. It seemed that all the darkness in the world rested there in Rand’s side, all the world’s evil in a festering sore only lightly covered by tender scar tissue. A thing like that would soak up Healing flows like drops of water on dry sand. How could he bear the pain? Why was he not weeping?
From first thought to action had taken only a moment. Shaken, and desperately hiding it, she went on without a pause. “You are as strong as I. I know it; you must be. Feel, Rand. What do you feel?”
Light, what can Heal that? Can anything?
Light, what can Heal that? Can anything?
“I don’t feel anything,” he muttered, shifting his feet. “Goose bumps. And no wonder. It’s not that I don’t trust you, Egwene, but I cannot help being nervous when a woman is channeling around me. I am sorry.”
She did not bother explaining to him the difference between channeling and merely embracing the True Source. There was so much he did not
know, even compared to her own scant knowledge. He was a blind man trying to work a loom by touch, with no idea of colors or what the threads, or even the loom, looked like.
know, even compared to her own scant knowledge. He was a blind man trying to work a loom by touch, with no idea of colors or what the threads, or even the loom, looked like.
With an effort she released
saidar
, and it was an effort. Part of her wanted to cry at the loss. “I am not touching the Source now, Rand.” She stepped closer and peered up at him. “Do you still feel goose bumps?”
saidar
, and it was an effort. Part of her wanted to cry at the loss. “I am not touching the Source now, Rand.” She stepped closer and peered up at him. “Do you still feel goose bumps?”
“No. But that’s just because you told me.” He gave an abrupt shrug of his shoulders. “You see? I started thinking about it, and I have them again.”
Egwene smiled triumphantly. She did not need to look around at Elayne to confirm what she had already sensed, what they had agreed upon earlier for this point. “You can sense a woman embracing the Source, Rand. Elayne is doing just that right now.” He squinted at the Daughter-Heir. “It doesn’t matter what you see or don’t see. You felt it. We have that much. Let’s see what else we can find. Rand, embrace the Source. Embrace
saidin
.” The words came out hoarsely. They had agreed on this, too, she and Elayne. He was Rand, not a monster from the stories, and they had agreed on it, but still, asking a man to … . The wonder was that she had gotten the words out at all. “Do you see anything?” she asked Elayne. “Or feel anything?”
saidin
.” The words came out hoarsely. They had agreed on this, too, she and Elayne. He was Rand, not a monster from the stories, and they had agreed on it, but still, asking a man to … . The wonder was that she had gotten the words out at all. “Do you see anything?” she asked Elayne. “Or feel anything?”
Rand still doled out glances between them, in between staring at the floor and sometimes blushing. Why
was
he so out of countenance? Studying him fixedly, the Daughter-Heir shook her head. “He could just be standing there for all I can tell. Are you sure he is doing anything?”
was
he so out of countenance? Studying him fixedly, the Daughter-Heir shook her head. “He could just be standing there for all I can tell. Are you sure he is doing anything?”
“He can be stubborn, but he isn’t foolish. At least, he isn’t foolish most of the time.”
“Well, stubborn or foolish or something else, I feel nothing at all.”
Egwene frowned at him. “You said you would do as we asked, Rand. Are you? If you felt something, so should I, and I do not—” She broke off with a stifled yelp.
Something
had pinched her bottom. Rand’s lips twitched, clearly fighting a grin. “That,” she told him crisply, “was not nice.”
Something
had pinched her bottom. Rand’s lips twitched, clearly fighting a grin. “That,” she told him crisply, “was not nice.”
He tried to keep his face innocent, but the grin slipped. “You said you wanted to feel something, and I just thought—” His sudden roar made Egwene jump. Clapping a hand to his left buttock, he hobbled in a pained circle. “Blood and ashes, Egwene! There was no need to—” He fell off into deeper, inaudible mutters Egwene was just as glad she did not understand.
She took the opportunity to flap the scarf for a little air, and shared a small smile with Elayne. The glow faded around the Daughter-Heir. They both came close to giggling as they rubbed themselves surreptitiously. That should show him. About a hundred for one, Egwene estimated.
Turning back to Rand, she put on her sternest face. “I would have expected
something like that from Mat. I thought you, at least, had grown up. We came here to help you, if we can. Try to cooperate. Do something with the Power, something that isn’t childish. Perhaps we will be able to sense that.”
something like that from Mat. I thought you, at least, had grown up. We came here to help you, if we can. Try to cooperate. Do something with the Power, something that isn’t childish. Perhaps we will be able to sense that.”
Hunched, he glared at them. “Do something,” he muttered. “You had no call to—I’ll limp for—You want me to do something?”
Suddenly she lifted into the air, and Elayne, too; they stared at each other, wide-eyed, as they floated a pace above the carpet. There was nothing holding them, no flows Egwene could feel or see. Nothing. Her mouth tightened. He had no right to do this. No right at all, and it was time he learned it. The same sort of shield of Spirit that cut Joiya off from the Source would stop him, too; Aes Sedai used it on the rare men they found who could channel.
She opened herself to
saidar
—and her stomach sank.
Saidar
was there—she could feel its warmth and light—but between her and the True Source stood something, nothing, an absence that shut her away from the Source like a stone wall. She felt hollow inside, until panic welled up to fill her. A man was channeling, and she was caught in it. He was Rand, of course, but dangling there like a basket, helpless, all she could think of was a man channeling, and the taint on
saidin
. She tried to shout at him, but all that came out was a croak.
saidar
—and her stomach sank.
Saidar
was there—she could feel its warmth and light—but between her and the True Source stood something, nothing, an absence that shut her away from the Source like a stone wall. She felt hollow inside, until panic welled up to fill her. A man was channeling, and she was caught in it. He was Rand, of course, but dangling there like a basket, helpless, all she could think of was a man channeling, and the taint on
saidin
. She tried to shout at him, but all that came out was a croak.
“You want me to do something?” Rand growled. A pair of small tables flexed their legs awkwardly, the wood creaking, and began to stumble about in a stiff parody of dance, gilt flaking off and falling. “Do you like this?” Fire flared up in the fireplace, filling the hearth from side to side, burning on stone bare of ashes. “Or this?” The tall stag and wolves above the fireplace began to soften and slump. Thin streams of gold and silver flowed out from the mass, fining down to shining threads, snaking, weaving themselves into a narrow sheet of metallic cloth; the length of glittering fabric hung in the air as it grew, its far end still linked to the slowly melting statuette on the stone mantel. “Do something,” Rand said. “Do something! Do you have any idea what it is like to touch
saidin
, to hold it? Do you? I can feel the madness waiting. Seeping into me!”
saidin
, to hold it? Do you? I can feel the madness waiting. Seeping into me!”
Abruptly the capering tables burst into flame like torches, dancing still; books spun into the air, pages fluttering; the mattress on the bed erupted, showering feathers across the room like snow. Feathers falling onto the burning tables filled the room with their sharp, sooty stink.
For a moment Rand stared wildly at the blazing tables. Then whatever was holding Egwene and Elayne vanished, along with the shield; their
heels thumped onto the carpet in the same instant the flames went out as if sucked into the wood they had been consuming. The blaze in the fireplace winked out, as well, and the books fell to the floor in a worse jumble than before. The length of gold-and-silver cloth dropped, too, along with strands of rough-melted metal, no longer liquid or even hot. Only three largish lumps, two silver and one gold, remained on the mantel, cold and unrecognizable.
heels thumped onto the carpet in the same instant the flames went out as if sucked into the wood they had been consuming. The blaze in the fireplace winked out, as well, and the books fell to the floor in a worse jumble than before. The length of gold-and-silver cloth dropped, too, along with strands of rough-melted metal, no longer liquid or even hot. Only three largish lumps, two silver and one gold, remained on the mantel, cold and unrecognizable.
Egwene had staggered into Elayne as they landed. They clutched each other for support, but Egwene felt the other woman doing exactly what she was doing, embracing
saidar
as quickly as she could. In moments she had a shield ready to throw around Rand if he even appeared to be channeling, but he stood stunned, staring at the charred tables with feathers still drifting down around him, flecking his coat.
saidar
as quickly as she could. In moments she had a shield ready to throw around Rand if he even appeared to be channeling, but he stood stunned, staring at the charred tables with feathers still drifting down around him, flecking his coat.
He did not seem to be a danger, now, but the room was certainly a mess. She wove tiny flows of Air to pull all the floating feathers together, and those already on the carpet, as well. As an afterthought, she added those on his coat. The rest of it he could have the majhere straighten, or see to himself.
Rand flinched as the feathers floated past him to alight on the tattered ruins of the mattress. It did nothing for the smell, burned feathers and burned wood, but at least the room was neater, and the open windows and faint breezes were already lessening the stench.
“The majhere may not want to give me another,” he said with a strained laugh. “A mattress a day is probably more than she is willing to … .” He avoided looking at her or Elayne. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to … . Sometimes it runs wild. Sometimes there’s nothing there when I reach for it, and sometimes it does things I don’t … . I’m sorry. Perhaps you had better go. I seem to say that a lot.” He blushed again and cleared his throat. “I am not touching the Source, but maybe you had best go.”
“We are not done yet,” Egwene said gently. More gently than she felt—she wanted to box his ears; the idea of picking her up like that, shielding her—and Elayne—but he was on the ragged edge. Of what, she did not know, and she did not want to find out, not now, not here. With so many exclaiming over their strength—everyone said she and Elayne would be among the strongest Aes Sedai, if not the strongest, in a thousand years or more—she had assumed they were as strong as he. Near to it, at least. She had just been rudely disabused. Perhaps Nynaeve could come close, if she was angry enough, but Egwene knew she herself could never have done what he just had, split her flows that many ways, worked that many things
at once. Working two flows at once was far more than twice as hard as working one of the same magnitude, and working three much more than twice again working two. He had to have been weaving a dozen. He did not even look tired, yet exertion with the Power took energy. She very much feared he could handle her and Elayne both like kittens. Kittens he might decide to drown, if he went mad.
at once. Working two flows at once was far more than twice as hard as working one of the same magnitude, and working three much more than twice again working two. He had to have been weaving a dozen. He did not even look tired, yet exertion with the Power took energy. She very much feared he could handle her and Elayne both like kittens. Kittens he might decide to drown, if he went mad.
But she would not, could not, just walk away. That would be the same as quitting, and she was not made that way. She meant to do what she had come there for—all of it—and he was not going to chase her off short of it. Not him or anything else.
Elayne’s blue eyes were filled with determination, and the moment Egwene fell silent she added in a much firmer voice, “And we will not go until we are. You said you would try. You must try.”
“I did say that, didn’t I?” he murmured after a time. “At least we can sit down.”
Not looking at the blackened tables or the band of metallic cloth lying crumpled on the carpet, he led them, limping slightly, to high-backed chairs near the windows. They had to move books from the red silk cushions in order to sit; Egwene’s chair held Volume Twelve of
The Treasures of the Stone of Tear
, a dusty, wood-bound book entitled
Travels in the Aiel Waste, with Various Observations on the Savage Inhabitants
, and a thick, tattered leather volume called
Dealings with the Territory of Mayene, 500 to 750 of the New Era
. Elayne had a bigger stack to move, but Rand hurriedly took them from her along with those from his chair and put them all on the floor, where the pile promptly fell over. Egwene laid hers neatly beside them.
The Treasures of the Stone of Tear
, a dusty, wood-bound book entitled
Travels in the Aiel Waste, with Various Observations on the Savage Inhabitants
, and a thick, tattered leather volume called
Dealings with the Territory of Mayene, 500 to 750 of the New Era
. Elayne had a bigger stack to move, but Rand hurriedly took them from her along with those from his chair and put them all on the floor, where the pile promptly fell over. Egwene laid hers neatly beside them.
“What do you want me to do now?” He sat on the edge of his seat, hands on his knees. “I promise I won’t do anything but what you ask this time.”
Egwene bit her tongue to keep from telling him that promise came a bit late. Perhaps she had been a little vague in what she had asked for, but that was no excuse. Still, that was something to be dealt with another time. She realized she was thinking of him as just Rand again, but he looked as if he had just splashed mud on her best dress and was worried she would not believe it an accident. Yet she had not let go of
saidar
, and neither had Elayne. There was no need to be foolish. “This time,” she said, “we just want you to talk. How do you embrace the Source? Just tell us. Take it step by step, slowly.”
saidar
, and neither had Elayne. There was no need to be foolish. “This time,” she said, “we just want you to talk. How do you embrace the Source? Just tell us. Take it step by step, slowly.”
“More like wrestling than embracing.” He grunted. “Step by step? Well, first I imagine a flame, and then I push everything into it. Hate, fear, nervousness. Everything. When they’re all consumed, there’s an emptiness,
a void, inside my head. I am in the middle of it, but I’m a part of whatever I am concentrating on, too.”
a void, inside my head. I am in the middle of it, but I’m a part of whatever I am concentrating on, too.”
“That sounds familiar,” Egwene said. “I’ve heard your father talk about a trick of concentration he uses to win the archery competitions. What he calls the Flame and the Void.”
Rand nodded; sadly, it seemed. She thought he must be missing home, and his father. “Tam taught it to me first. And Lan uses it, too, with the sword. Selene—someone I met once—called it the Oneness. A good many people seem to know about it, whatever they call it. But I found out for myself that when I was inside the void, I could feel
saidin
, like a light just beyond the corner of my eye in the emptiness. There’s nothing but me and that light. Emotion, even thought, is outside. I used to have to take it bit by bit, but it all comes at once, now. Most of it does, anyway. Most of the time.”
saidin
, like a light just beyond the corner of my eye in the emptiness. There’s nothing but me and that light. Emotion, even thought, is outside. I used to have to take it bit by bit, but it all comes at once, now. Most of it does, anyway. Most of the time.”
“Emptiness,” Elayne said with a shiver. “No emotion. That doesn’t sound very much like what we do.”
“Yes, it does,” Egwene insisted eagerly. “Rand, we just do it a little differently, that’s all. I imagine myself to be a flower, a rosebud, imagine it until I
am
the rosebud. That is like your void, in a way. The rosebud’s petals open out to the light of
saidar
, and I let it fill me, all light and warmth and life and wonder. I surrender to it, and by surrendering, I control it. That was the hardest part to learn, really; how to master
saidar
by submitting, but it seems so natural now that I do not even think about it. That is the key to it, Rand. I am sure. You must learn to surrender—” He was shaking his head vigorously.
am
the rosebud. That is like your void, in a way. The rosebud’s petals open out to the light of
saidar
, and I let it fill me, all light and warmth and life and wonder. I surrender to it, and by surrendering, I control it. That was the hardest part to learn, really; how to master
saidar
by submitting, but it seems so natural now that I do not even think about it. That is the key to it, Rand. I am sure. You must learn to surrender—” He was shaking his head vigorously.
Other books
Across the Face of the World by Russell Kirkpatrick
Sue by Hawkinson, Wodke
The Evil And The Pure by Darren Dash
Country Hardball by Weddle, Steve
Trial of Gilles De Rais by George Bataille
Letters From Home by Beth Rhodes
Son of Holmes by John Lescroart
A Southern Place by Elaine Drennon Little
Searching Hearts by Sabrina Lacey
Generation Dead Book 2: What You Fear by Talluto, Joseph
