A Memory of Light

been through the testing yet.
    Theodrin seemed to know what Pevara thought, and the two kept their distance from one another. Pevara Healed Emarin, who took it stoically. Theodrin Healed a cut on Jonneth’s arm. He seemed bemused at the motherly ministration.
    She’ll have him bonded before long, Pevara sent him. Notice how she let one of the other women take her one of the fifty, then started following him about? We’ve barely been rid of her since the Black Tower.
    What if he bonds her back? Androl sent.
    Then we’ll see if what you and I have is unique or not. Pevara hesitated. We are stumbling upon things that have never been known.
    He met her eyes. She was referring to whatever had happened during their linking this last time. She had opened a gateway, but had done it as he would have.
    We’re going to need to try that again, he sent her.
    Shortly, she said, Delving Emarin to be certain her Healing had taken.
    “I am quite all right, Pevara Sedai,” he said, courteous as always. “And if I might note, you seem as if you could use some Healing of your own.”
    She looked down at the burned cloth on her arm. She was still timid about letting a man Heal her, but also annoyed at her own timidity.
    “Thank you,” she said, her voice level as she let him touch her arm and channel.
    Androl unhooked the small tin cup from his belt, and absently lifted his hand, fingers downward. He pressed his fingers as if pinching something between them, and when he spread them, a small gateway opened in the middle. Water poured out, filling the cup.
    Pevara sat down beside him, accepting the cup as he offered it. She drank, then sighed. “As cool as mountain springwater.”
    “That’s what it is,” Androl said.
    “That reminds me, I’ve been meaning to ask you something. How do you do that?”
    “Do this?” he said. “It’s just a small gateway.”
    “That’s not what I mean. Androl, you just got here. You couldn’t possibly have had time to memorize this area well enough to open a gateway to some mountain spring hundreds of miles away.”
    Androl stared blankly at Pevara, as if he had just heard a surprising piece of news. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s something to do with my Talent.” ”1 see.” Pevara was silent a moment. “By the way, what happened to your sword?”
    Androl reached by reflex to his side. The sheath hung there, empty. He’d dropped his sword when the lightning had struck near them, and he hadn’t had the presence of mind to grab it as they fled. He groaned. “Garfin would send me to grind barley at the quartermaster’s for weeks straight if he heard of this.”
    “It’s not that important,” Pevara said. “You have better weapons.”
    “It’s the principle,” Androl said. “Carrying a sword reminds me. It’s like . . . well, seeing a net reminds me of fishing around Mayene, and springwater reminds me of Jain. Small things, but small things matter. I need to be a soldier again. We have to find Taim, Pevara. The seals . . .
    Well, we can’t find him the way we’ve been trying. Do you agree?”
    He sighed, but nodded.
    “Excellent,” she said. “I hate being a target.”
    “What do we do instead?”
    “We approach this with careful study, not with swinging swords.”
    She probably had a point. “And . . . what we did? Pevara, you used my Talent .”
    “We shall see,” she said, sipping from her cup. “Now, if only this were tea.”
    Androl raised his eyebrows. He took the cup back, opened a small gateway between two fingers and dropped a few dried tea leaves into the cup. He boiled it for a moment with a thread of Fire, then dropped in some honey through another gateway.
    “Had some back in my workshop in the Black Tower,” he said, handing the cup back. “It looks like nobody moved it.”
    She sipped the tea, then smiled warmly. “Androl, you are wonderful .”
    He smiled. Light! How long had it been since he’d felt this way about a woman? Love was supposed to be something for young fools, wasn’t it?
    Of course, the young fools never could see straight. They’d look for a pretty face, and stop there. Androl had been around long enough to know that a pretty face was nothing compared to the type of solidity a woman like Pevara displayed. Control, steadiness, determination. These were things that only proper seasoning could bring.
    It was the same way with leather. New leather was fine, but really good leather was leather that had been used and worn, like a