A Memory of Light

them remained.
    “You can free me, Lews Therin,” Lanfear said. “He has claimed me. Must I beg? He has claimed me!”
    “You pledged yourself to the Shadow, Mierin,” Rand said. “This is your reward. You expect pity from me?”
    A dark something reached up and wrapped around her legs, yanking her down into the abyss again. Despite his words, Rand found himself stepping forward, as if to leap into the pool.
    He held himself back. He finally felt like a whole person again, after a long fight. That gave him strength, but in his peace was a weakness—the weakness he had always feared. The weakness that Moiraine had rightfully spotted in him. The weakness of compassion.
    He needed it. Like a helmet needed a hole through which to see. Both could be exploited. He admitted to himself that it was true.
    Lanfear surfaced, sputtering, looking helpless. “Must I beg?” she said again.
    “I don’t think you are capable of it.”
    She lowered her eyes. “. . . Please?” she whispered.
    Rand’s insides twisted. He had fought through darkness himself in seeking the Light. He had given himself a second chance; should he not give one to another?
    Light! He wavered, remembering what it had felt like in that moment seizing the True Power. That agony and that thrill, that power and that horror. Lanfear had given herself to the Dark One. But in a way, Rand had as well.
    He looked into her eyes, searching them, knowing them. Finally, Rand shook his head. “You’ve grown better at this kind of deception, Mierin. But not good enough.”
    Her expression darkened. In a moment, the pool was gone, replaced by a stone floor. Lanfear sat there, cross-legged, in her silver-white dress. Wearing her new face, but still the same.
    “So you are back,” she said, sounding not entirely pleased. “Well, I am no longer forced to deal with a simple farmboy. That is some small blessing.”
    Rand snorted, entering the chamber. She was still imprisoned—he could sense a darkening around her, like a dome of shadow, and he stayed outside of it. The pool, however—the act of drowning—had been mere theatrics. She was prideful, but was not above maintaining a weak front when the situation required it. If he’d been able to embrace Lews Therin’s memories earlier, Rand would never have been fooled so easily by her in the Waste.
    “Then I shall address you not as a damsel in need of a hero,” Lanfear said, eyeing him as he walked around her prison, “but as an equal, seeking asylum.”
    “An equal?” Rand said, laughing. “Since when have you ever considered anyone your equal, Mierin?”
    “You care nothing for my captivity?”
    “It pains me,” Rand said, “but no more than it pained me when you swore yourself to the Shadow. Did you know I was there, when you revealed it? You did not see me, as I did not want to be seen, but I was watching. Light, Mierin, you swore to kill me.”
    “Did I mean it?” she asked, turning to look him in the eyes.
    Had she? . . . No, she had not meant it. Not then. Lanfear did not kill people that she thought would be useful, and she had always considered him useful.
    “We shared something special, once,” she said. “You were my—”
    “I was an ornament to you!” Rand snapped. He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. Light, but it was hard around her. “The past is done. I care nothing for it, and would gladly give you a second chance at the Light.
    Unfortunately, I know you. You’re just doing it again. Playing us all, including the Dark One himself. You care nothing for the Light. You care only for power, Mierin. You honestly want me to believe that you’ve changed?”
    “You do not know me so well as you think that you do,” she said, watching him as he rounded the perimeter of her prison. “You never did.” 
    “Then prove it to me,” Rand said, stopping. “Show me your mind, Mierin. Open it to me completely. Give me control over you here, in this place of mastered dreams. If your intentions are pure, I will free you.” 
    “What you ask is forbidden.”
    Rand laughed. “When has that ever stopped you?”
    She seemed to consider it; she must actually have been worried about her imprisonment. Once, she would have laughed at a suggestion such as this. Since this was, ostensibly, a place where he had complete control, if she gave him leave, he could strip her down, delve within her mind.
    “I . . .” Lanfear said.
    He stepped forward, right to the lip of the prison. That