Читаем The Gathering Storm полностью

"You did not come here in glory," Egwene said to them. "You did not come here victorious. For there is no victory, and could have been no victory, when sister fought sister and Warder died to Warder." She noted Siuan standing near the front of the ranks and met her eyes across the distance. Leane was there, too, looking disheveled from her long imprisonment, but standing erect.

"Mistakes have been made on both sides," Egwene said. "And we will all have to work hard to repair what we have done. It is said by blacksmiths that a sword can never be whole again once it has been shattered. It must be completely reforged, the metal melted down to slag, then reworked and re-formed.

"These next few months will be our re-forming. We have been broken, then torn down nearly to roots. The Last Battle approaches, and before it arrives, I mean to see that we are once again a sword forged with strength, whole and unbroken! I will make demands of you. They will be harsh. They will stretch you to the limits of what you think you can bear. I will take these burned holes and fill them! Accommodations will have to be made, for between us there are far too many Sitters for the Hall, not to mention five too many Ajah heads. Some of you will have to step down and bow yourselves in humility before those you dislike.

"These days will test you! I will force you to work with those you saw as enemies just hours ago. You will march alongside those who spurned you, or hurt you, or hated you.

"But we are stronger than our weaknesses. The White Tower stands, and we shall stand with it! We will become one again. We will be an assembly that tales will tell of! When I am finished with you, it will not be written that the White Tower was weak. Our divisions will be forgotten in the face of our victories. We will be remembered not as the White Tower who turned against itself, but as the White Tower who stood strong in the face of the Shadow. These days will be legendaryV

Cheers burst out, mostly from novices and soldiers, as the Aes Sedai were too reserved for that sort of behavior. Generally. Some younger ones did call out, caught up in the moment. Thankfully, those cheers came from both sides. Egwene let them roar for a moment, then raised her arms, quieting them.

"Let it go forth across the land!" she shouted. "Let it be spoken of, let it be relied upon, and let it be remembered. The White Tower is whole and complete. And no one—man, woman or creation of the Shadow— will see us divided again!"

The cheers were nearly deafening this time, and surprisingly, more Aes Sedai joined in. Egwene lowered her hands.

She hoped they would still cheer her in the months to come. There was a great deal of work to be done.

Rand did not return to his rooms immediately. The failed meeting with the Borderlanders had left him feeling unhinged. Not because of their tricky attempt to pull him into Far Madding— that was frustrating, but it was not unexpected. People always tried to control and manipulate him. The Borderlanders were no different.

No, it was something else that had unsettled him, something he couldn't quite define. And so he stalked through the Stone of Tear, two Aiel Maidens trailing behind him, his presence startling servants and unnerving Defenders.

The corridors twisted and turned. The walls—where unadorned by tapestry—were the color of wet sand, but they were far stronger than any rock Rand knew, alien and strange; each smooth span a reminder that this place was not natural.

Rand felt the same way. He had the form of a human. Indeed, he had the mannerisms and history of one. But he was a thing that no human—-not even he himself—could understand. A figure of legend, a creation of the One Power, as unnatural as a ter'angreal or a fragment of cuendillar. They dressed him up like a king, just as they dressed these corridors with tas-seled gold and red rugs. Just as they hung the walls with those tapestries, each one depicting a famous Tairen general. Those decorations were intended for beauty, but they were also intended to obscure. The patches of naked wall highlighted how alien the place was. Rugs and tapestries made it all feel more . . . human. Just as giving Rand a crown and a fine coat allowed them to accept him. Kings were supposed to be a little different. Never mind his much more alien nature, hidden beneath the crown. Never mind his heart of a man long dead, his shoulders created to bear the weight of prophecy, his soul crushed by the needs, wants and hopes of a million people.

Two hands. One to destroy, the other to save. Which had he lost?