A Memory of Light

camp, ducked beneath the leafless branches of a tree—she didn’t know what type, but its limbs spread wide and high—and slipped inside the guard perimeter. A pair of wetlanders in white and red stood on “watch” near a fire. They didn’t come close to spotting her, though they did jump up and level polearms toward a thicket a good thirty feet away when an animal rustled in it.
    Aviendha shook her head and passed them.
    Forward. She needed to keep moving forward. What to do about Rand al’Thor? What were his plans for tomorrow? These were other questions she wanted to ask Elayne.
    The Aiel needed a purpose once Rand al’Thor finished with them. That was clear from the visions. She had to find a way to give this to them. Perhaps they should return to the Three-fold Land. But . . . no. No. It tore her heart, but she had to admit that if the Aiel did so, they would be going to their graves. Their death, as a people, might not be immediate, but it would come. The changing world, with new devices and new ways of fighting, would overtake the Aiel, and the Seanchan would never leave them alone. Not with women who could channel. Not with armies full of spears that could, at any time, invade.
    A patrol approached. Aviendha drew some fallen brown undergrowth over herself for camouflage, then lay down flat beside a dead shrub and remained perfectly still. The guards walked two handspans from her.
    We could attack the Seanchan now, she thought. In my vision, the Aiel waited nearly a generation to attack—and that let the Seanchan strengthen their position.
    The Aiel already spoke of the Seanchan and the confrontation that must inevitably come. The Seanchan would force it, everyone whispered. Except, in her vision, years had passed with the Seanchan failing to attack. Why? What could possibly have held them back?
    Aviendha rose and crept across to the pathway the guards had taken. She took out her knife and rammed it down into the ground. She left it there, right beside a lantern on a pole, clearly visible even to wetlander eyes. Then she slipped back into the night, hiding near the back of the large tent that was her goal.
    She crouched low and practiced her silent breathing, using the rhythm to calm herself. There were hushed, anxious voices inside the tent. Aviendha did her best not to pay attention to what they were saying. It wouldn’t be proper to eavesdrop.
    As the patrol passed again, she stood up. When they cried out, having found her dagger, she slipped around to the front of the tent. There, avoiding the attention of guards distracted by the commotion, she lifted the flap and stepped inside the tent behind them.
    Some people sat at a table on the far side of the very large tent, huddled around a lamp. They were so busy with their conversation that they did not see her, so she settled down near some cushions to wait.
    It was very hard not to listen in, now that she was so close.
    “. . . must send our forces back!” one man barked. “The fall of the capital is a symbol, Your Majesty. A symbol! We cannot let Caemlyn go or the entire nation will collapse into chaos.”
    “You underestimate the strength of the Andoran people,” said Elayne. She looked very much in control, very strong, her red-gold hair practically glowing in the lamplight. Several of her battle commanders stood behind her, lending authority and a sense of stability to the meeting. Aviendha was pleased to see the fire in her first-sister’s eyes.
    “I have been to Caemlyn, Lord Lir,” Elayne continued. “And I have left a small force of soldiers there to watch and give warning if the Trollocs leave the city. Our spies will use gateways to sneak through the city and find where the remaining Trollocs are herding captives, and then we can mount rescue operations if the Trollocs continue to hold the city.”
    “But the city itself!” Lord Lir said.
    “Caemlyn is lost, Lir,” Lady Dyelin snapped. “We’d be fools to try to mount any kind of assault now.”
    Elayne nodded. “I have held conference with the other High Seats, and they agree with my assessment. For now, the refugees who escaped are safe—I sent them on along toward Whitebridge with guards. If there are people alive within, we will try to rescue them with gateways, but I will not commit my forces to an all-out attack on Caemlyn’s walls.”
    “But—”
    “Taking the city again would be fruitless,” Elayne said, voice hard. “I know full well the damage that can be