A Memory of Light

The basements of many buildings that are still standing have been filled with oil. Talmanes and the others are in place. Once your Warder returns with word that the Kinswomen are prepared to open another round of gateways, we can proceed.”
    Elayne nodded, and then removed her hand from her belly as Bashere glanced at it. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding it again. “What do you think of me going to battle while pregnant? Is it a mistake?”
    He shook his head. “No. It proves just how desperate our situation is. It will make the soldiers think. Make them more serious. Besides . . .
    What?”
    Bashere shrugged. “Perhaps it will remind them that not everything in this world is dying.”
    Elayne turned back, looking at the distant city. Farmers burned their fields in the spring to prepare them for new life. Maybe that was what Andor was suffering now.
    “Tell me,” Bashere said. “Are you going to tell the men that you’re carrying the Lord Dragon’s child?”
    Children, Elayne corrected in her head. “You presume to know something that may or may not be true, Lord Bashere.”
    “I have a wife, and a daughter. I recognize the look in your eyes when you see the Lord Dragon. No woman with child touches her hand to her womb so reverently when looking on a man who is not the father.”
    Elayne drew her lips into a line.
    “Why do you hide it?” Bashere asked. “I’ve heard what some of the men think. They talk of some other man, a Darkfriend named Mellar, once Captain of your Guardswomen. I can see that the rumors are false, but others are not so wise. You could kill those rumors if you wished.”
    “Rand’s children will be targets,” she said.
    “Ah . . .” he replied. He knuckled his mustache for a moment.
    “If you disagree with the reasoning, Bashere, speak your mind. I will not suffer a toady.”
    “I’m no toady, woman,” he said with a huff. “But regardless, I hardly doubt your child could be a greater target than he or she already is. You’re high commander of the armies of the Light! I think your men deserve to know what exactly they’re fighting for.”
    “It is not your business to know,” Elayne said, “nor is it theirs.”
    Bashere raised an eyebrow at her. “The heir to the realm,” he said flatly, “is not the business of its subjects?”
    “I believe you are overstepping your bounds, General .”
    “Perhaps I am,” he said. “Maybe spending so much time with the Lord Dragon has warped the way I do things. That man . . . you could never tell what he was thinking. Half of the time, he wanted to hear my mind, as raw as I could lay it out. The other half of the time, it seemed like he’d break me in two just for commenting that the sky looked a little dark.” Bashere shook his head. “Just give it some thought, Your Majesty. You remind me of my daughter. She might have done something similar, and this is the advice I’d give her. Your men will fight more bravely if they know that you carry the Dragon Reborns heir.”
    Men, Elayne thought. The young ones try to impress me with every stunt that comes into their fool heads. The old ones assume every young woman is in need of a lecture.
    She turned her eyes toward the city again as Birgitte rode up and gave her a nod. The basements were filled with oil and pitch.
    “Burn it,” Elayne said loudly.
    Birgitte waved a hand. The Kinswomen opened their round of gateways, and men hurled lit torches through into the basements of Caemlyn. It didn’t take long for the smoke rising above the city to grow darker, more ominous.
    “They won’t soon put that out,” Birgitte said softly. “Not with the dry weather we’ve been having. The entire city will go up like a haystack.”
    The army gathered to stare at the city, particularly the members of the Queen’s Guard and the Andoran military. A few of them saluted, as one might salute the pyre of a fallen hero.
    Elayne ground her teeth, then said, “Birgitte, make it known among the Guards. The children I carry were fathered by the Dragon Reborn.”
    Bashere’s smile deepened. Insufferable man! Birgitte was smiling as she went to spread the word. She was insufferable, too.
    The men of Andor seemed to stand taller, prouder, as they watched their capital burn. Trollocs started pouring from the gates, driven by the fires. Elayne made sure the Trollocs saw her army, then announced, “Northward!” She turned Moonshadow. “Caemlyn is dead. We take to the forests; let the