Robert Jordan - The Gathering Storm

• Название: The Gathering Storm
• Автор: Robert Jordan
• Издательство: Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
• Жанр: Фэнтези
• Год: 2009
• ISBN: 978-0-7653-0230-4

The final volume of the Wheel of Time, A Memory of Light, was partially written by Robert Jordan before his untimely passing in 2007. Brandon Sanderson, New York Times bestselling author of the Mistborn books, was chosen by Jordan’s editor—his wife, Harriet McDougal—to complete the final book. The scope and size of the volume was such that it could not be contained in a single book, and so Tor proudly presents The Gathering Storm as the first of three novels that will make up A Memory of Light. This short sequence will complete the struggle against the Shadow, bringing to a close a journey begun almost twenty years ago and marking the conclusion of the Wheel of Time, the preeminent fantasy epic of our era.

In this epic novel, Robert Jordan’s international bestselling series begins its dramatic conclusion. Rand al’Thor, the Dragon Reborn, struggles to unite a fractured network of kingdoms and alliances in preparation for the Last Battle. As he attempts to halt the Seanchan encroachment northward—wishing he could form at least a temporary truce with the invaders—his allies watch in terror the shadow that seems to be growing within the heart of the Dragon Reborn himself.

Egwene al’Vere, the Amyrlin Seat of the rebel Aes Sedai, is a captive of the White Tower and subject to the whims of their tyrannical leader. As days tick toward the Seanchan attack she knows is imminent, Egwene works to hold together the disparate factions of Aes Sedai while providing leadership in the face of increasing uncertainty and despair. Her fight will prove the mettle of the Aes Sedai, and her conflict will decide the future of the White Tower—and possibly the world itself.

The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass. What was, what will be, and what is, may yet fall under the Shadow.

---

Rand rested the access key on the railing, but held it tightly. He did not lean down; he remained straight-backed.

"A soldier doesn't have a lot of choices for his own destiny either," Tarn said, tapping softly on the railing with an idle ringer. "More important men make all the decisions. Men, well, I guess men like you."

"But my choices are made for me by the Pattern itself," Rand said. "I have less freedom than the soldiers. You could have run, deserted. Or at least gotten out by legal means."

"And you can't run?" Tarn asked.

"I don't think the Pattern would let me," Rand said. "What I do is too important. It would just force me back in line. It has done so a dozen times already."

"And would you really want to run?" Tam asked.

Rand didn't reply.

"I could have left those wars. But, at the same time, I couldn't have. Not without betraying who I was. I think it's the same for you. Does it matter if you can run, when you know that you're not going to?"

"I'm going to die at the end of this," Rand said. "And I have no choice."

Tam stood up straight, frowning. In an instant, Rand felt that he was twelve years old again. "I won't have talk like that," Tam said. "Even if you're the Dragon Reborn, I won't listen to it. You always have a choice. Maybe you can't pick where you are forced to go, but you still have a choice."

"But how?"

Tam laid a hand on Rand's shoulder. "The choice isn't always about what you do, son, but why you do it. When I was a soldier, there were some men who fought simply for the money. There were others who fought for loyalty—loyalty to their comrades, or to the crown, or to whatever. The soldier who dies for money and the soldier who dies for loyalty are both dead, but there's a difference between them. One death meant something. The other didn't.

"I don't know if it's true that you'll need to die for this all to play out. But we both know you aren't going to run from it. Changed though you are, I can see that some things are the same. So I won't stand any whining on the subject."

"I wasn't whining—" Rand began.

"I know," Tam said. "Kings don't whine, they deliberate." He seemed to be quoting someone, though Rand had no idea who. Oddly, Tam gave a brief chuckle. "It doesn't matter," Tam continued. "Rand, I think you can survive this. I can't imagine that the Pattern won't give you some peace, considering the service you're doing for us all. But you're a soldier going to war, and the first thing a soldier learns is that you might die. You may not be able to choose the duties you're given. But you can choose why you fulfill them. Why do you go to battle, Rand?"

"Because I must."

"That's not good enough," Tarn said. "To the crows with that woman! I wish she'd come to me sooner. If I'd known—"

"What woman?"

"Cadsuane Sedai," Tam said. "She brought me here, said that I needed to talk to you. I'd stayed away, previously, because I thought the last thing you needed was your father stomping across your field!"

Tam continued, but Rand stopped listening.

Cadsuane. Tam had come because of Cadsuane. It wasn't because Tam had noticed Nynaeve and taken the opportunity. Not because he'd just wanted to check on his son. But because he'd been manipulated into coming.

Would the woman never leave Rand alone!

His emotions seeing Tam were so strong that they had worn away the ice. Too much affection was like too much hatred. Either one made him feel, which was something he could not risk.

But he had. And suddenly, feeling nearly overcame him. He shuddered, turning away from Tam. Had their conversation all been another one of Cadsuane's games? What was Tarn's part in it?

"Rand?" Tam asked. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought up the Aes Sedai. She said you might be angry if I mentioned her."

"What else did she say?" Rand demanded, spinning back toward Tam. The stout man took a hesitant step backward. Night air blew around them, lights from the city dots below.

"Well," Tam said, "she told me that I should talk about your youth, remind you of better times. She thought—"

"She manipulates me!" Rand said softly, meeting Tarn's eyes. "And she manipulates you. Everyone ties their strings to me!"

The rage boiled inside. He tried to shove it back, but it was so difficult. Where was the ice, the quiet? Desperately, Rand sought the void. He tried pouring all of his emotions into the flame of a candle, as Tam had taught so long ago.

Saidin was waiting there. Without thought, Rand seized it, and in doing so was overwhelmed with those emotions he thought he'd abandoned. The void shattered, but somehow saidin remained, struggling against him. He screamed as the nausea hit him, and he threw his anger against it in defiance.

"Rand," Tam said, frowning. "You should know better than—"

"BE SILENT/" Rand bellowed, throwing Tam to the floor with a flow of Air. Rand wrestled with his rage on one side and saidin on the other. They threatened to crush him between them.

This was why he needed to be strong. Couldn't they see? How could a man laugh when confronted by forces like these?

"I am the Dragon Reborn!" Rand roared at saidin, at Tam, at Cadsuane, at the Creator himself. "I will not be your pawn!" He pointed at Tam with the access key. His father lay on the stone floor of the balcony. "You come from Cadsuane, pretending to show me affection. But you unwind another of her strings to tie about my throat! Can I not be free of you all?"

He had lost control. But he didn't care. They wanted him to feel. He would feel, then! They wanted him to laugh? He would laugh as they burned!

Screaming at them all, he wove threads of Air and Fire. Lews Therin howled in his head, saidin tried to destroy both of them, and the quiet voice inside Rand's heart vanished.

A prick of light grew in front of Rand, sprouting from the center of the access key. The weaves for balefire spun before him, and the access key grew brighter as he drew in more power.

By that light, Rand saw his father's face, looking up at him.

Terrified.

What am I doing?

Rand began to shake, the balefire unraveling before he had time to loose it. He stumbled backward in horror.

What am I DOING ? Rand thought again.

No more than I've done before, Lews Therin whispered.

Tam continued to stare at him, face shadowed by the night.

Oh, Light, Rand thought with terror, shock and rage. / am doing it again. I am a monster.

Still holding tenuously to saidin, Rand wove a gateway to Ebou Dar, then ducked through, fleeing from the horror in Tarn's eyes.

CHAPTER 48 Reading the Commentary

Min sat in Cadsuane's small room, waiting—with the others— to hear the result of Rand's meeting with his father. A low fire burned in the fireplace and lamps at each corner of the room lent light to the women, who worked at various busying activities— embroidery, darning, and knitting—to keep their minds off of the wait.

Min was past regretting her decision to make an alliance with Cadsuane. Regret had come early, during the first few days when Cadsuane had kept Min close, asking after every viewing she had had about Rand. The woman was meticulous as a Brown, writing down each vision and answer. It was like being in the White Tower, again!

Min wasn't certain why Nynaeve's submission to Cadsuane had given the woman license to interrogate Min, but that was how Cadsuane seemed to interpret it. Mix that with Min's discomfort around Rand lately and her own desire to figure out just what Cadsuane and the Wise Ones were planning, and she seemed to spend practically all of her time in the woman's presence.

Yes, regret had come and gone. Min had moved on to resignation, tinged with a hint of frustration. Cadsuane knew quite a bit about the material Min was studying in her books, but the woman doled out her knowledge like cloudberry jam, a little reward for good behavior, always hinting that there was more to come. That kept Min from fleeing.

She had to find the answers. Rand needed them.

With that thought in mind, Min leaned back on her cushioned bench and reopened her current book, a work by Sajius that was simply titled Commentary on the Dragon. One line in it teased at her, a sentence mostly ignored by those who had written commentary. He shall hold a blade of light in his hands, and the three shall be one.

The commentators felt it was too vague compared with other passages, like Rand taking the Stone or Rand's blood being spilled on the rocks of Shayol Ghul.

She tried not to think about that last one. The important thing was that many of the prophecies—with a little consideration and thought— generally made sense. Even the lines about Rand being marked by the Dragons and the Herons made sense, looking at it now.

But what of this line? A blade of light almost certainly meant Callandw. But what of the "three shall be one"? Some few scholars claimed that "the three" were three great cities—Tear, Illian and Caemlyn. Or, if one happened to be a scholar from Cairhien, then they were said to be Tear, Illian and Cairhien. The problem was that Rand had united far more than three cities. He'd conquered Bandar Eban as well, not to mention the fact that he would need to bring the Borderlanders to his banner.

But he was ruler—or near to it—in three kingdoms. He'd given up Andor, but Cairhien, Illian and Tear were directly beneath his control, even if he personally wore only one crown. Maybe this passage did mean what the scholars said, and Min was chasing nothing.

Were her studies as useless as the protection she'd thought to offer Rand? Min, she told herself, self-pity will get you nowhere. All she could do was study, think and hope.

"This is wrong," she found herself saying out loud.

She heard Beldeine's softly derisive snort from across the room. Min looked up, frowning.

The women who had sworn to Rand—Erian, Nesune, Sarene and Beldeine—had found themselves less welcome in his presence as he had grown less trusting of Aes Sedai. The only one he regularly allowed to see him was Nynaeve. It wasn't odd, then, that the others had found their way to Cadsuane's "camp."

And what of Min's own relationship with Rand? She was still welcome in his presence; that hadn't changed. But there was something wrong, something off. He put up walls when she was near—not to keep her out, but to keep the real him in. As if he was afraid of what the real him would do, or could do, to those he loved. . . .

He's in pain again, she thought, feeling him through the bond. Such anger. What was going on? She felt a spike of fear, but shoved it down. She had to trust in Cadsuane's plan. It was a good one.

Corele and Merise—almost constant attendants of Cadsuane these days—continued their embroidery in matching chairs by the hearth. Cadsuane had suggested the work to them to keep their hands busy while they waited. It seemed the ancient Aes Sedai rarely did anything without intending to teach someone a lesson.

Of the Aes Sedai sworn to Rand, only Beldeine was there at the moment. Cadsuane sat near Min, perusing her own book. Nynaeve walked back and forth, up and down, occasionally tugging on her braid. Nobody spoke of the tension in the room.

What were Rand and Tarn discussing? Would Rand's father be able to turn him?

The chamber was cramped. With three chairs on the rug beside the hearth, a bench along the wall, and Nynaeve crossing back and forth before the door like a spotted hound, there was barely room to move. The smooth stone walls made the place feel like a box, and there was only one window, open to the night air, behind Cadsuane. Light shone from the coals in the hearth and the lamps. The Warders were speaking in low tones in the adjoining room.

Yes, it was cramped, but considering her banishment, Cadsuane was lucky to have rooms in the Stone at all.

Min sighed and turned back to Commentary on the Dragon. That same phrase popped out at her again. He shall hold a blade of light in his hands, and the three shall be one. What did it mean?

"Cadsuane," Min said, holding up the book. "I think the interpretation of this phrase is wrong."

Again, Beldeine let out a small—almost imperceptible—sniff of disdain.

"You have something to say, Beldeine?" Cadsuane asked, not looking up from her own book, a history called The Proper Taming of Power.

"Not in so many words, Cadsuane Sedai," Beldeine replied lightly. The Green had a face that some might have called pretty, bearing traces of her Saldaean heritage. Young enough to not yet have the ageless face, she often seemed to try too hard to prove herself.

"You obviously thought something when Min spoke, Beldeine," Cadsuane replied, turning a page. "Out with it."

Beldeine flushed slightly—one noticed these things, if one spent a lot of time with Aes Sedai. They did have emotional reactions, they were just subtle. Unless, of course, the Aes Sedai in question was Nynaeve. Although she'd grown better at controlling her emotions, she . . . well, she was still Nynaeve.

Beldeine said, "I simply think that the child is amusing in the way she pokes through those tomes, as if she were a scholar."

Min would have taken that as a challenge from most people, but from Beldeine, the words were matter-of-fact.

Cadsuane turned another page. "I see. Min, what was it you were saying to me?"

"Nothing important, Cadsuane Sedai."

"I didn't ask if it was important, girl," Cadsuane said briskly. "I asked you to repeat yourself. Out with it."

Min sighed. Nobody could humiliate one more soundly than an Aes Sedai, for they did it without malice. Moiraine had explained it to Min once in simple terms: Most Aes Sedai felt it was important to establish control when there was no great conflict, so that if a crisis did happen, people would know where to look.

It was very frustrating.

"I said," Min repeated, "that a passage is wrong. I'm reading commentary on the Karaethon Cycle. Sajius claims that this line about the three becoming one speaks of the unification of three kingdoms beneath the Dragon's banner. But I think he's wrong."

"And why," Cadsuane said, "is it that you think you know more than a respected scholar of the prophecies?"

"Because," Min said, bristling, "the theory doesn't make sense. Rand only really holds one crown. There might have been a good argument here if he hadn't given away Tear to Darlin. But the theory doesn't hold any longer. I think the passage refers to some way he has to use Callandor."