A Memory of Light

afterward.
    That was how Mat was. He’d grumbled and muttered all winter about how people made sport of him, insisting that next time, he’d just let them drown. Then the moment he’d seen someone in danger, he’d gone splashing right back in. Egwene could remember gangly Mat stumbling from the river, little Jer clinging to him and gasping, a look of pure terror in his eyes.
    Jer had gone down without making a sound. Egwene had never realized that could happen. People who started to drown didn’t yell, or sputter, or call for help. They just slipped under the water, when everything seemed fine and peaceful. Unless Mat was watching.
    He came for me in the Stone of Tear, ; she thought. Of course, he’d also tried to save her from the Aes Sedai, unwilling to believe she was Amyrlin.
    So which was this? Was she drowning or not?
    How much do you trust Matrim Cauthon? Min had asked. Light. I do trust him. Fool that I am, I do. Mat could be wrong. He often was wrong.
    But when he was right, he saved lives.
    Egwene forced herself to stand. She wavered, and Gawyn came to her side. She patted him on the arm, then stepped away from him. She would not let the army see its Amyrlin so weak that she had to lean against someone for support. “What reports do we have from the other battlefronts?”
    “Not much, today,” Gawyn said. He frowned. “In fact, it’s been rather silent.”
    “Elayne was supposed to fight at Cairhien,” Egwene said. “It was an important battle.”
    “She might be too occupied to send word.”
    “I want you to send a messenger by gateway. I need to know how that battle is going.”
    Gawyn nodded, hurrying off. After he was gone, Egwene walked at a steady pace until she found Silviana, who was talking with a pair of Blue sisters.
    “Bryne?” Egwene asked.
    “In the mess tent,” Silviana said. “I only just had word. I sent a runner to tell him to stay put until you arrived.”
    “Come.”
    She walked over to the tent, the largest shelter in camp by far, and spotted him as she entered. Not eating, but standing beside the cook’s travel table with his maps spread out. The table smelled of onions, which had probably been cut there time and time again. Yukiri had a gateway open in the floor to look down on the battlefield. She closed it as Egwene arrived. They didn’t leave it open long, not with the Sharans watching for it and preparing weaves to send through it.
    Egwene whispered very quietly to Silviana, “Gather the Hall of the Tower. Bring back any Sitters you can find. Get them all here, to this tent, as soon as you can.”
    Silviana nodded, her face betraying no hint of the confusion she likely felt. She hastened off and Egwene sat down in the tent.
    Siuan wasn’t there—she was likely helping with Healing again. That was good. Egwene wouldn’t have wanted to attempt this with Siuan glaring at her. As it was, she worried about Gawyn. He loved Bryne like a father, and already his anxiety streamed through their bond.
    She would have to approach this very delicately, and she didn’t want to start until the Hall had arrived. She couldn’t accuse Bryne, but she couldn’t ignore Mat. He was a scoundrel and a fool, but she trusted him. Light help her, but she did. She’d trust him with her life. And things had been going oddly on the battlefield.
    The Sitters gathered relatively quickly. They had charge of the war effort, and they met together each evening to get reports and tactical explanations from Bryne and his commanders. Bryne didn’t seem to think it odd that they came to him now; he kept at his work.
    Many of the women did give Egwene curious looks as they entered. She nodded to them, trying to convey the weight of the Amyrlin Seat.
    Eventually, enough of them had arrived that Egwene decided she should begin. Time was wasting. She needed to dismiss Mat’s accusations from her mind once and for all, or she needed to act on them.
    “General Bryne,” Egwene said. “Have you been well? We’ve had a difficult time finding you.”
    He looked up and blinked. His eyes were red. “Mother,” he said. He nodded to the Sitters. “I feel tired, but probably no more than you. I’ve been all over the battlefield, tending to all kinds of details; you know how it is.” Gawyn hurried in. “Egwene,” he said, his face pale. “Trouble.”
    “What?”
    “I . . .” He took a deep breath. “General Bashere turned against Elayne. Light! He’s a Darkfriend. The battle would have