A Memory of Light

Gawyn nudged his horse up beside hers. “That flag . . .”
    “I see it,” Egwene said. “I’ll have to pin down Siuan: have her sources mentioned who took the throne? I was afraid the Domani would ride into battle without a leader.”
    “The Domani? I was talking about that”
    She followed his eyes. A new force was approaching, moving with apparent haste, under the banner of the red bull. “Murandy,” Egwene said. “Curious. Roedran has finally decided to join the rest of the world.”
    The newly arrived Murandians made more show than they probably deserved. Their apparel, at least, was pretty: yellow and red tunics over mail; brass helmets with wide brims. The wide red belts bore the symbol of the charging bull. They kept their distance from the Andorans, wrapping around behind the Aiel forces and coming in from the northwest.
    Egwene looked toward Rand’s camp. Still no sign of the Dragon himself.
    “Come,” she said, nudging Sifter into motion toward the Murandian force. Gawyn fell in beside her, and Chubain brought a force of twenty soldiers as a guard.
    Roedran was a corpulent man swathed in red and gold; she could practically hear the man’s horse groaning with each step. His thinning hair was more white than black, and he watched her with an unexpectedly keen expression. The King of Murandy was little more than ruler of one city, Lugard, but her reports indicated that this man wasn’t doing a bad job of expanding his rule. Given a few years, he might actually have a full kingdom to call his own.
    Roedran held up a meaty hand, stopping his procession. She reined in her horse and waited for him to approach her, as would be customary. He didn’t.
    Gawyn muttered a curse. Egwene let a smile tug at the edges of her lips. Warders could be useful, if only to express what she should not. Finally, she nudged her horse forward.
    “So.” Roedran looked her over. “You’re the new Amyrlin. An Andoran.
    The Amyrlin has no nationality,” Egwene said coolly. “I am curious to find you here, Roedran. When did the Dragon extend an invitation to you?
    He didn’t.” Roedran waved for a cupbearer to bring him some wine. I thought it was high time Murandy stopped being left out of events.”
    “And through whose gateways did you arrive? Surely you didn't cross Andor to reach here.”
    Roedran hesitated.
    “You came from the south,” Egwene said, studying him. “Andor. Elayne sent for you?”
    “She did not send for me,” Roedran snapped. “The bloody Queen promised me if I supported her cause, she’d release a proclamation of intention, promising not to invade Murandy.” He hesitated. “Besides, I’ve been curious to see this false Dragon. Everybody in the world seems to have taken leave of their senses regarding him.”
    “You do know what this meeting is about, don’t you?” Egwene said.
    He waved a hand. “Talking this man out of his conquering ways, or something like that.”
    “Good enough.” Egwene leaned forward. “I hear your rule is consolidating nicely, and that Lugard may actually have some real authority in Murandy for once.”
    “Yes,” Roedran said, sitting up a bit straighten “That is true.”
    Egwene leaned forward further. You re welcome, she said softly, then smiled. She turned Sifter and led her retinue away.
    “Egwene,” Gawyn said softly, trotting his horse beside hers, “did you really just do that?”
    “Does he look troubled?”
    Gawyn glanced over his shoulder. “Very.”
    “Excellent.”
    Gawyn continued riding for a moment, then broke into a deep grin.
    “That was positively evil.”
    “He’s as boorishly rude as reports have made him out to be,” Egwene said. “He can suffer a few nights spent wondering how the White Tower has been pulling strings in his realm. If I’m feeling particularly vengeful, I’ll set up some good secrets for him to unearth. Now, where is that sheep-herder? He has the audacity to demand that we . . ”
    She trailed off as she saw him coming. Rand strode across the browning grass of the field, wearing red and gold. A tremendous bundle hovered in the air beside him, held up by weaves she could not see.
    The grass greened at his feet.
    It wasn’t a large change. Where he trod, the turf recovered, spreading from him like a soft wave of light through opening shutters. Men stepped back; horses stamped their hooves. Within minutes, the entire ring of troops stood on grass that lived again.
    How long had it been since she’d