A Memory of Light

growing tiresome—before kissing Egwene’s ring. “Mother.”
    “Silviana.”
    “We have received an update from Elayne Sedai.”
    Egwene allowed herself a smile. Both of them, independently, had taken to calling Elayne by her White Tower title as opposed to her civil title. “And?”
    “She suggests that we set up a location where the wounded can be sent for Healing.”
    “We’d talked about having the Yellows move from battlefield to battlefield,” Egwene said.
    “Elayne Sedai is worried about exposing the Yellows to attack,” Silviana said. “She wants a stationary hospital.”
    “That would be more efficient, Mother,” Gawyn said, rubbing his chin. “Finding the wounded after a battle is a brutal affair. I don’t know what I’d think of sending sisters to comb through the dead. This war could stretch weeks, even months, if the great captains are right. Eventually, the Shadow is going to start picking off Aes Sedai on the field.”
    “Elayne Sedai was quite . . . insistent,” Silviana said. Her face was a mask, her tone steady, yet she also managed to convey severe displeasure. Silviana was proficient at that.
    I helped put Elayne in charge, Egwene reminded herself. Refusing her would set a bad precedent . As would obeying her. Perhaps they could remain friends through it.
    “Elayne Sedai shows wisdom,” Egwene said. “Tell Romanda that it must be done this way. Have the entire Yellow Ajah gather for Healing, but not at the White Tower.”
    “Mother?” Silviana asked.
    “The Seanchan,” Egwene said. She had to smother the serpent deep inside of her that writhed whenever she thought of them. “I will not risk the Yellows being attacked while alone and exhausted from Healing. The White Tower is exposed, and is a focus for the enemy—if not the Seanchan, then the Shadow.”
    “A valid point.” Silviana sounded reluctant. “But where else? Caemlyn has fallen, and the Borderlands are too exposed. Tear?”
    “Hardly,” Egwene said. That was Rand’s territory, and it seemed too obvious. “Send back to Elayne with a suggestion. Perhaps the First of Mayene will be willing to provide a suitable building, a very large one.” Egwene tapped the side of her saddle. “Send the Accepted and the novices with the Yellows. I don’t want those women on the battlefield, but their strength can be put to use in Healing.”
    Linked to a Yellow, the weakest of novices could lend a trickle of strength and save lives. Many would be disappointed; they imagined slaying Trollocs. Well, this would be a way for them to fight without getting underfoot, untrained in combat as they were.
    Egwene glanced over her shoulder. Movement through the gateways would not be finished any time soon. “Silviana, relay my words to Elayne Sedai,” Egwene said. “Gawyn, I have something I want to do.”
    They found Chubain supervising the setup of a command camp in a valley west of the river that formed the boundary between Kandor and Arafel. They’d press forward into this hilly country to meet the oncoming Trollocs, deploying harrying forces in the adjoining valleys, with archers atop the hills alongside defensive units. The plan would be to strike hard at Trollocs as they tried to take the hills, doing as much damage as possible. The harrying units could swipe at enemy flanks while the defenders held the hills as long as they could.
    The odds were good that they would eventually be pushed out of those hills and across the border into Arafel, but on the wide plains of Arafel their cavalries could be used to better advantage. Egwene’s force, like Lan’s, was meant to delay and slow the Trollocs until Elayne could defeat those in the south. Ideally they would hold until reinforcements could arrive.
    Chubain saluted and led them to a tent that had already been erected nearby. Egwene dismounted and started to enter, but Gawyn laid a hand on her arm. She sighed, nodded and let him enter first.
    Inside, on the floor with legs folded, sat the Seanchan woman that Nynaeve had called Egeanin, although the woman insisted on being called Leilwin. Three members of the Tower Guard watched over her and her Illianer husband.
    Leilwin looked up as Egwene entered, then immediately rose to her knees and performed a graceful bow, forehead touching the tent floor. Her husband did as she did, though his motions seemed more reluctant. Perhaps he was merely a worse actor than she was.
    “Out,” Egwene said to the three guards.
    They did