It was not a government office, though it might seem so from the front. It was much more important.
A school.
To the right, grand hallways were hung with paintings and ornaments to rival those of any palace—but these depicted the great teachers and storytellers of the past, from Anla to Thom Merrilin. Rand strolled that hallway, looking in at rooms where any could come and gain knowledge, from the poorest farmer to the children of the Mayor. The building had to be large to accommodate all who wanted to learn.
YOUR PARADISE IS FLAWED, ADVERSARY.
Darkness hung in a mirror to Rand’s right. It reflected not the hallway, but instead HIS presence.
YOU THINK YOU CAN ELIMINATE SUFFERING? EVEN IF YOU WIN, YOU WILL NOT. ON THOSE PERFECT STREETS, MEN ARE STILL MURDERED AT NIGHT. CHILDREN GO HUNGRY DESPITE THE EFFORTS OF YOUR MINIONS. THE WEALTHY EXPLOIT AND CORRUPT; THEY MERELY DO SO QUIETLY.
“It is better,” Rand whispered. “It is good.”
IT IS NOT ENOUGH, AND WILL NEVER BE ENOUGH. YOUR DREAM IS FLAWED. YOUR DREAM IS A LIE. I AM THE ONLY HONESTY YOUR WORLD HAS EVER KNOWN.
The Dark One attacked him.
It came like a storm. A burst of wind so terrible, it threatened to rip Rand’s skin from his bones. He stood tall, eyes toward the nothing, crossing his arms behind his back. The attack ripped away the vision—the beautiful city, the laughing people, the monument to learning and peace. The Dark One consumed it, and once again, it became mere possibility.
Silviana held the One Power, felt it flooding her, lighting the world. When she held saidar, she felt as if she could see all. It was a glorious feeling, so long as she acknowledged that it was merely a feeling. It was not truth. The lure of saidar’s power had coaxed many a woman into foolhardy gestures. Certainly many Blues had made them, at one point or another.
Silviana sculpted fire from horseback, leveling Sharan soldiers. She had trained her gelding, Stinger, to never be skittish around channeling.
“Archers fall back!” Chubain yelled from just behind her. “Go, go! Heavy infantry companies, advance!” The armored foot soldiers marched past Silviana with axes and maces to confront the disoriented Sharans on the slopes. Pikes would have been better, but they didn’t have nearly enough of those for everyone.
She wove one more burst of fire into the enemy, preparing the way, then turned her attention to the Sharan archers higher up on the slope.
Once Egwene’s forces had rounded the bogs, they had split into two assault groups. The Aes Sedai had moved in with the White Tower infantry, attacking Sharans on the Heights from the west. By this time, the fires had been extinguished and most of the Trollocs had moved off the Heights to attack below.
The other half of Egwene’s army, mainly cavalry, were sent into the corridor that skirted the bogs and led toward the ford; they attacked the vulnerable rear flanks of the Trollocs that had come down the slopes to hit Elayne’s troops defending the area around the ford.
The first group’s main job was to make its way up the western slope. Silviana began aiming a careful series of lightning blasts at the Sharans who were advancing to repel them.
“Once the infantry has forced its way up the slope a ways,” Chubain said from beside Egwene, “we’ll have the Aes Sedai start… Mother?” Chubain’s voice had risen.
Silviana spun on horseback, looking with alarm at Egwene. The Amyrlin wasn’t channeling. Her face had grown pale, and she was trembling. Was she being attacked by a weave? Not one Silviana could see.
Figures gathered at the top of the slope, pushing aside the Sharan infantry. They began to channel, and lightning fell on the White Tower army, each with a crack shattering the air and a flash of light bright enough to stun.
“Mother!” Silviana kneed her horse up beside Egwene’s mount. Demandred must be attacking her. Touching the sa’angreal in Egwene’s hands for an extra boost of power, Silviana wove a gateway. The Seanchan woman who rode behind Egwene grabbed the Amyrlin’s reins and yanked the horse to safety through the gateway. Silviana followed, yelling, “Stand against those Sharans! Warn the male channelers of Demandred’s attack on the Amyrlin Seat!”
“No,” Egwene said weakly, wavering in her saddle as the horses clopped into a large tent. Silviana would have liked to take her farther away, but she had not known the area well enough for a long jump. “No, it’s not…”
“What’s wrong?” Silviana asked, pulling up beside her and letting the gateway vanish. “Mother?”
“It’s Gawyn,” she said, pale, trembling. “He’s been hurt. Badly. He’s dying, Silviana.”
Oh, Light, Silviana thought. Warders! She had feared something like this from the moment she’d seen that fool boy.
“Where?” Silviana asked.
“On the Heights. I’m going to find him. I’ll use gateways, Travel in his direction…”
“Light,
Mother,” Silviana said. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that will be? Stay here and lead the White Tower. I will try to find him.”
“You can’t sense him.”