Or called if the White Tower sisters joined the fight in earnest. Light send that Elaida saw wisdom in forbidding that. If the Aes Sedai turned the Power against one another, it would be a dark day indeed.

Can this day grow any darker? Egwene wondered. Many of the Aes Sedai she passed in the camp gave her looks of respect, awe, and a little horror. After a long absence, the Amyrlin had returned. And she had brought destruction and judgment in her wake.

Over fifty Black Sisters had been stilled, then executed. Egwene felt sick, thinking of their deaths. Sheriam had seemed almost relieved when her turn came, though she'd soon begun to struggle, sobbing and desperate. She'd confessed to several disturbing crimes, as if hoping that her willingness to speak would gain her amnesty.

They'd placed her head on the block and taken it off, just like the others. That scene would always be vivid in Egwene's mind—her former Keeper, lying with her head pressed against the stump, blue dress and fiery red hair suddenly bathed in warm golden light as a thinner section of clouds moved in front of the sun. Then the silvery axe, falling to claim her head. Perhaps the Pattern would be kinder to her next time she was allowed a thread in its great tapestry. But perhaps not. Death was not an escape from the Dark One. Sheriam's horror at the end indicated that she might have been thinking that very thing as the axe took her head.

Now Egwene understand fully how the Aiel could laugh at a simple beating. Would that she could go through a few days beneath the rod rather than have to order the execution of women she had liked and worked with!

Some of the Sitters had argued for interrogation instead of execution, but Egwene had been insistent. Fifty women were far too many to shield and guard, and now that they knew stilling could be Healed, that wasn't an option. No, history proved how slippery and dangerous members of the Black could be, and Egwene was tired of worrying about what could happen. She had learned with Moghedien that there was a price to be paid for greed, if just greed for information. She and the others had been too eager—too proud of the "discoveries" they'd made—to see the world rid of one of the Forsaken.

Well, she would not allow a similar mistake here. The law was known, the Hall had made its judgment, and it had not been done in secret. Verin had died to stop these women, and Egwene would see that her sacrifice meant something.

You did well, Verin. So very well. Every Aes Sedai in the camp had been made to swear the Three Oaths over again, and only three members of the Black had been discovered beyond the ones Verin had located. Her research had been thorough.

The Blacks' Warders were under guard. They would have to be sorted through at a later date, when attention could be given to separating those who were really Black from those who were just enraged by the loss of their Aes Sedai. Most of them would seek death, even the innocent ones. Perhaps the innocent could be convinced to remain alive long enough to throw themselves into the Last Battle.

Nearly twenty of the Black sisters on Verin's list had still escaped, despite all of Egwene's precautions. She wasn't certain how they had known. Bryne's guards had caught some weaker ones trying to flee, and soldiers had fallen to delay them. But many had still escaped.

No use crying over that. Fifty Black were dead; that was a victory. A frightening one. But a victory nonetheless.

And so she walked through the camp, in riding boots and a dress of red, brown hair free to stream in the wind and tied with crimson ribbons to mark the streams of blood she had shed not an hour before. She did not blame the sisters around her for their sly glances, their masked concern, their fear. And their respect. If there had been any doubt that Egwene was Amyrlin, it had been dispelled. They accepted her, they feared her. And she would never quite fit in with them again. She was separate, and always would be.

A determined figure in blue made her way through the tents and approached Egwene. The dignified woman curtsied appropriately, though since they were walking so quickly, Egwene didn't stop to let her kiss the Great Serpent ring. "Mother," Lelaine said, "Bryne sends word that all is at ready for the assault. He says that the western bridges would be the ideal point of attack, though he suggests that gateways be employed to send a flanking force of his men behind the White Tower lines. He asks if this would be possible."

It wasn't using the Power as a weapon, but it was close. A fine distinction. But being Aes Sedai was about fine distinctions. "Tell him I will make the gateway myself," she said.

"Excellent, Mother," Lelaine said, bowing her head, the perfect, loyal attendant. It was remarkable, how quickly the woman's bearing toward Egwene had changed. She must have realized that her only choice was to attach herself to Egwene completely and give up on her attempts to secure power. This way, she didn't look like a hypocrite and would perhaps gain position through Egwene. Assuming Egwene was able to stabilize herself as a powerful Amyrlin.

It was a good assumption.

Lelaine must have been frustrated by Romanda's change of temperament. The Yellow waited beside the road ahead, as if on cue. She wore a dress after the color of her Ajah, hair back in a stately bun. She curtsied as Egwene reached her and barely spared a glance for Lelaine before falling into position on Egwene's right, away from Lelaine. "Mother," Romanda said, "I have made the inquires you requested. There has been no contact with those sent to the Black Tower. Not a whisper."

"Does this strike you as odd?" Egwene asked.

"Yes, Mother. With Traveling they should have been there and back by now. They should have at least sent word. This silence is disturbing."

Disturbing indeed. Even worse, that delegation contained Nisao, Myrelle, Faolain and Theodrin. Each of the women had sworn fealty to Egwene. An unsettling coincidence. The departure of Faolain and Theodrin was particularly suspicious. Supposedly, they had gone because they had no Warders, but the sisters in the camp didn't consider those two full Aes Sedai—though nobody would dare say such to Egwene directly.

Why had those four, out of the hundreds of Aes Sedai in the camp, been placed in the delegation? Was it mere coincidence? It stretched plausibility. But what did it mean, then? Had someone intentionally sent away those loyal to Egwene? If so, why not send Siuan? Was this perhaps Sheriam's work? The woman had confessed to several things before her execution, but this hadn't been one of them.

Either way, something was happening with those Asha'man. The Black Tower would need to be dealt with.

"Mother," Lelaine said, drawing her attention back. The Blue didn't glance at her rival. "I have other news."

Romanda sniffed quietly.

"Speak," Egwene said.

"Sheriam wasn't lying," Lelaine said. "The ter'angreal used for dreams are gone. All of them."

"How is this possible?" Egwene demanded, letting a hint of her anger slip out.

"Sheriam was Keeper, Mother," Lelaine said quickly. "We kept the ter'angreal together, as is custom in the White Tower, under guard. But . . . well, what reason would those guards have had to turn Sheriam away?"

"And what do you suppose she was planning to tell us?" Egwene asked. "This theft could not have been kept hidden for long."

"I don't know, Mother," Lelaine said, shaking her head. "The guards said that Sheriam seemed . . . flustered . . . when she took the ter'angreal. This was just last night."

Egwene clenched her teeth, thinking of Sheriam's final spilled confessions. The theft of the ter'angreal had been far from the most shocking tidbit she'd mentioned. Elayne would be livid; the original ring had been among those stolen, and Egwene doubted that Siuan's hidden copy would be useful as a template. It was already flawed; copies of it would likely be more imperfect.

"Mother," Lelaine said, more softly. "What of Sheriam's . . . other claim?"

"That one of the Forsaken is in the White Tower, impersonating an Aes Sedai?" Egwene said. Sheriam claimed she'd given the ter'angreal to this . . . person.

Lelaine and Romanda walked silently, both staring forward, as if speculation were too daunting.

"Yes, I suspect that she is right," Egwene said. "They infiltrated not only our camp, but the aristocracies of Andor, Illian and Tear. Why not the White Tower as well?" She didn't add that Verin's book confirmed the presence of one of the Forsaken. It seemed best to keep the extent of Verin's notes secret.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," Egwene said. "With the assault on the Tower, and our return, it seems likely that the Forsaken—whoever she is—will find it prudent to slip away and find an easier target for her scheming."

Lelaine and Romanda didn't seem comforted by that comment. The three of them reached the edge of the Aes Sedai camp, where mounts awaited them, as well as a large group of soldiers and one Sitter from each of the Ajahs, other than the Blue and Red. There wasn't a Blue because Lelaine was the only one remaining in camp; the reason there wasn't a Red was obvious. This was part of why Egwene had chosen to wear red, a subtle hint that all Ajahs should be represented in the action they were about to take. It was for the good of all.

As Egwene mounted, she noticed that Gawyn was following her, again, at a respectful distance. Where had he come from? They hadn't spoken since the early morning. As she mounted, so did he, and as she turned to ride out of camp with Lelaine, Romanda, the Sitters and the soldiers, Gawyn followed at a safe distance. Egwene wasn't certain what to do with him yet.

The army camp was mostly deserted. Tents sat empty, ground trampled by feet and hoofs, hardly any soldiers remaining behind. Egwene embraced the Source soon after leaving their camp, and she held to it, ready with weaves should someone attack her during the ride. She still didn't trust that Elaida wouldn't use a gateway to interfere with the assault. True, the false Amyrlin probably had her hands full with the aftermath of the Seanchan attack. But expectations like that one—assuming that she was safe—were what had gotten Egwene captured in the first place. She was Amyrlin. She couldn't risk herself. It was frustrating, but she knew that an end had come to her days of solitary action, striking out as she saw fit. She could have been killed, rather than captured, all those weeks ago. The Salidar rebellion would have floundered, and Elaida would have continued as Amyrlin.

So it was that her force rode up to the battle lines outside the village of Darein. The White Tower still smoldered, a wide field of smoke trailing up in a ring from the center of the island, shrouding the white spire. Even from a distance, the scars of the Seanchan attack were evident on the building. Blackened holes, like spots of corruption on an otherwise healthy apple. The Tower almost seemed to groan as she looked at it. It had stood for so long, had seen so much. Now it had been wounded so deeply that it still bled a day later.

And yet it stood. Light bless them, it stood. It rose high, wounded but sound, pointing toward a sun hidden by clouds above. It stood defiant of those who would break it, within and without.

Bryne and Siuan waited for Egwene at the back of the army. A disparate couple they were. The battle-hardened general, with temples of gray and a face like an unyielding piece of armor. Strong, made of lines. And beside him Siuan, the diminutive woman in pale blue, her face lovely, looking young enough to be Bryne's granddaughter, for all the fact that they were near the same age.