A Memory of Light

three of you.”
    “Then it is well. We are your equals. You should know that I am a Wise One now.”
    “Then perhaps we are not equals,” Rand said, “for I’ve only just begun to understand how little wisdom I possess.”
    Aviendha sniffed. “Enough talk. You will bed me now.”
    “Light!” he said. “A little forward, aren’t you? Is that the Aiel way of doing things?”
    “No,” she said, blushing again. “I just ... I am not very skilled with this.”
    “You three decided this, didn’t you? Which of you came to me?”
    She hesitated, then nodded.
    “I’m never going to get to choose, am I?”
    She shook her head.
    He laughed and pulled her close. She was stiff, initially, but then melted against him. “So, do I go fight them first?” He nodded toward the Maidens.
    “That is only for the wedding, if we decide you are worth marriage, fool man. And it would be our families, not members of our society. You really did ignore your lessons, didn’t you?”
    He looked down at her. “Well, I’m glad there’s no fighting to do. I’m not sure how much time we have, and I was hoping to get some sleep tonight. Still . . .” He trailed off at the look in her eyes. “I’m . . . not getting any sleep, am I?”
    She shook her head.
    “Ah, well. At least I don’t have to worry about you freezing to death this time.”
    “Yes. But it may happen that I die of boredom, Rand al’Thor, if you do not stop rambling.”
    She took him by the arm and gently, but firmly, pulled him back into his tent—the calls of the Maidens growing louder, more insulting and more exuberant all at the same time.

    “I suspect the reason is some kind of ter’angreal ,” Pevara said. She crouched with Androl in the back room of one of the Black Tower’s general storehouses, and she did not find the position terribly comfortable. The room smelled of dust, grain and wood. Most buildings in the Black Tower were new, and this was no exception, the cedar boards still fresh.
    “You know of a ter’angreal that could prevent gateways?” Androl asked. “Not specifically, no,” Pevara replied, shifting to a better position. “But it is generally accepted that what we know of ter’angreal comprises only the smallest portion of what was once known. There must be thousands of different types of ter’angreal , and if Taim is a Darkfriend, he has access to the Forsaken—who could likely explain to him the use and construction of things we can only dream about.”
    “So we need to find this ter’angreal ,” Androl said. “Block it, or at least figure out how it functions.”
    “And escape?” Pevara asked. “Haven’t you already determined that leaving would be a poor choice?”
    “Well . . . yes,” Androl admitted.
    She concentrated, and could catch glimmers of what he was thinking. She’d heard that the Warder bond allowed an empathic connection. This seemed deeper. He was . . . yes, he really wished he could make gateways. He felt disarmed without them.
    “It’s my Talent,” he said begrudgingly. He knew she’d sift out the reason eventually. “I can make gateways. At least, I could.”
    “Really? With your level of strength in the One Power?”
    “Or lack of it?” he asked. She could sense a little of what he was thinking. Though he accepted his weakness, he worried that it made him unfit to lead. A curious mix of self-confidence and self-consciousness.
    “Yes,” he continued. “Traveling requires great strength in the One Power, but I can make large gateways. Before this all went wrong, the largest I ever made was a gateway thirty feet across.”
    Pevara blinked. “Surely you’re exaggerating.”
    “I’d show you, if I could ” He seemed completely honest. Either he was telling the truth, or his belief was due to his madness. She remained quiet, uncertain how to approach that.
    “It’s all right,” he said. “I know that there are . . . things wrong with me. With most of us. You can ask the others about my gateways. There’s a reason Coteren calls me pageboy. It’s because the only thing I’m good at is delivering people from one place to another.”
    “That’s a remarkable Talent, Androl. I’m certain the Tower would love to study it. I wonder how many people were born with it, but never knew, because the weaves for Traveling were unknown?”
    “I’m not going to the White Tower, Pevara,” he said, putting an emphasis on the White.
    She changed the topic. “You long for Traveling,