Robert Jordan - A Memory of Light

“Moonhunter?” Lanfear asked. “Is that what the wolves call me? That’s not right, not at all. I don’t hunt the moon. The moon is mine already.” She leaned down, resting her arms on the chest-high battlement.

“What do you want?” Perrin demanded.

“Vengeance,” she whispered. Then she looked at him. “The same as you, Perrin.”

“I’m to believe you want Slayer dead too?”

“Slayer? That orphan errand boy of Moridin’s? He doesn’t interest me. My vengeance will be against another.”

“Who?”

“The one who caused my imprisonment,” she said softly, passionately. Suddenly, she looked toward the skies. Her eyes widened in alarm, and she vanished.

Perrin passed his hammer from one hand to the other as Gaul crept forward, trying to watch all directions at once. “What was that?” he whispered. “Aes Sedai?”

“Worse,” Perrin said with a grimace. “Do the Aiel have a name for Lanfear?”

Gaul drew in a sharp breath.

“I don’t know what she wants,” Perrin said. “She’s never made any sense to me. With any luck, we merely crossed paths, and she will go on with what she was about.”

He didn’t believe that, not after what the wolves had told him earlier. Moonhunter wanted him. Light, as if I didn’t have enough trouble.

He shifted them down to the bottom of the wall, and they continued.

Toveine knelt beside Logain. Androl was forced to watch as she caressed his chin, his wearied eyes open and watching her with horror.

“It’s all right,” she said sweetly. “You can stop resisting. Relax, Logain. Give in.”

She had been Turned easily. Apparently, linked with thirteen Halfmen, it was easier for male channelers to Turn female channelers, and vice versa. That was why they were having so much trouble with Logain.

“Take him,” Toveine said, pointing at Logain. “Let’s see this done, once and for all. He deserves the peace of the Great Lord’s bounty.”

Taim’s minions dragged Logain away. Androl watched with despair. Taim obviously considered Logain a prize. Turn him, and the rest of the Black Tower would go easily. Many of the boys up above would come willingly to their fate if Logain ordered them to it.

How can he keep fighting? Androl thought. Stately Emarin had been reduced to a whimpering wreck after only two sessions, though he hadn’t yet been Turned. Logain had suffered nearly a dozen, and still he resisted.

That would change, for Taim now had women. Soon after Toveine’s Turning, others had arrived, sisters of the Black Ajah led by a horridly ugly woman who spoke with authority. The other Reds who had come with Pevara had joined them.

Drowsy concern flowed through Pevara’s bond to Androl. She was awake, but full of that drink that stopped her from channeling. Androl’s own mind felt relatively clear. How long had it been since they’d forced him to drink the dregs out of the cup they’d first given to Emarin?

Logain . . . will not last much longer. Pevara’s sending was laced with fatigue and growing resignation. What are . . . She cut off, thoughts growing muddled. Burn me! What are we going to do?

Logain screamed in pain. He hadn’t done that before. It seemed a very bad sign. By the doorway, Evin stood and watched. He looked over his shoulder suddenly, jumping at something.

Light, Androl thought. Could it be . . . his madness, caused by the taint? Is it still there?

Androl noticed for the first time that he was shielded, which they never did to captives unless letting their dose of forkroot wane so they could be Turned.

That sent a spike of panic through him. Were they coming for him next?

Androl? Pevara sent. I have an idea.

What?

Androl started coughing through his gag. Evin jumped, then came over, bringing out his water flask and pouring water on the gag. Abors—one of Taim’s flunkies—lounged against the wall. He was holding the shield. He glanced at Androl, but something at the other side of the room drew his attention.

Androl coughed worse, so Evin untied the gag and rolled him to the side, letting him spit out the water.

“Quiet now,” Evin said, glancing back at Abors, who was too far away to hear. “Don’t make them angry at you, Androl.”

The Turning of a man to the Shadow was not perfect. While it changed their allegiance, it did not change everything about them. The thing in Evin’s head had his memories, his personality, and—the Light send—his failings.

“Have you convinced them?” Androl whispered. “Not to kill me?”

“I have!” Evin said, leaning low, eyes frenzied. “They keep saying you’re useless, since you can’t channel very well, but none of them like making gateways to shuffle people about. I told them you’d do it for them. You will, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Androl said. “It’s better than dying.”

Evin nodded. “They stopped your dose of forkroot. They’ll take you next, after Logain. M’Hael was finally sent new women from the Great Lord, women who aren’t tired from channeling all the time. Them and Toveine and the Reds mean it should go quickly now. M’Hael should have Logain by the end of the day.”

“I’ll serve them,” Androl said. “I’ll swear to the Great Lord.”

“That’s good, Androl,” Evin said. “But we can’t let you go until you’ve been Turned. M’Hael won’t accept just an oath. It will be all right. I told them that you’d Turn easily. You will, won’t you? Not resisting?”

“I won’t resist.”

“Thank the Great Lord,” Evin said, relaxing.

Oh, Evin. You never were terribly bright.

“Evin,” Androl said softly, “you need to watch out for Abors. You know that, right?”

“I’m one of them now, Androl,” Evin said. “I don’t have to worry about them.”

“That’s good,” Androl whispered. “What I heard him say about you must have been nothing.”

Evin fidgeted. That look in his eyes . . . it was fright. The taint had been cleansed. Jonneth, Emarin and the other new Asha’man would never have to suffer the madness.

It manifested differently in different Asha’man, and at different rates. However, the fear was the most common. It came in waves; it had been consuming Evin when the cleansing happened. Androl had seen Asha’man need to be put down as the taint overwhelmed them. He knew that look in Evin’s eyes well. Though the lad had been Turned, he still carried the madness with him. He would do so forever.

“What did he say?” Evin said.

“He didn’t like it that you had been Turned,” Androl said. “He thinks you’ll take his place.”

“Oh.”

“Evin . . . he might be planning to kill you. Take care.”

Evin stood up. “Thank you, Androl.”

He walked away, leaving Androl ungagged.

That. . . can’t possibly work, Pevara sent drowsily.

She hadn’t lived among them long enough. She hadn’t seen what the madness could do, and didn’t know to recognize it in the eyes of the Asha’man. Normally, when one of them became like this, they would take him and confine him until he rode it out. If that didn’t work, Taim added something to their wine, and they didn’t wake up.

If they weren’t stopped, they would descend to destruction. They would kill those closest to them, lashing out first at people they should have loved.

Androl knew that madness. He knew it was inside of him, too. That is a mistake, Taim, he thought. You use our own friends against us, but we know them better than you do.

Evin struck at Abors. It came in a burst of the One Power. A second later, Androl’s shield dropped.