The Wheel of Time sidenotes: This is not the beginning.

[Wicked Woodpecker of West]

Apparently weeks are ten days in the WOT world, per the wikia. (I think that's in an appendix somewhere, as well as the worldbook; I don't recall if it's ever made clear in the text.)

Indeed I found fragment in the book that confirmed it.

I really, really, really think reading the books in chronological order screws things up. But that's just me.

Well as for 22 chapters, I cannot say I see any thrilling secrets that could be great revelations in latter books. But let's RAFO.

Chapter 09: It Begins

- So if Moiraine falls, she'll be just sent away from Tower. That wouldn't be so bad. No Aes Sedai responsibilities, end of Queenmaker schemes, access to One Power and freedom to seek Dragon Reborn. She could become Rogue Dragon Seeker! How cool that sounds!

The sisters said those sent away all but gave up touching saidar for fear of overstepping the Tower’s strictures inadvertently, but giving up that rapture was beyond her comprehension.

- That's seems bit of wishful thinking, I suppose.

The Tower more than merely disliked outsiders meddling in its affairs, and she would be an outsider, then.

- And since when Incoming Doom is Tower affair?

- Fail, Moiraine! Rogue Dragon Seeker is much much cooler!

- And testing device is floating ring? And how that's suppose to work? It's one of those Saint Grail things.

- Naked exams?

“Therefore I will instruct you,” Merean went on. “You will see this sign upon the ground.” She channeled, and her finger drew a six-pointed star in the air, two overlapping triangles written for an instant in fire.

- Oh, the ancient and almost forgotten symbol of Saint Grail. Someone read too much of Dan Brown.

- Now that's weird.

- No Moiraine! Don't go towards the light!

- And here comes the Mindfuck!

Only having her hair arranged in elaborate coils on the sides of her head could have made it more so. When had she begun wearing her hair loose? No matter.

- Cairhien ladies like princess Leia, huh?

- Melting clothes. Too much polyester

- So they make tested woman forgot everything about being tested, Aes Sedai and Tower except some basic rules that are imprinted in her subconsciousness. Well that's definitely makes testing whole much easier. Still hell of mindfuck.

- And Moiraine is using theoretically useless test weave to stop threat. Kinda cool.

- Matrix Reloaded. Or maybe Silent Hill 5.

For nearly a quarter of an hour she walked, with the patch of light slowly growing larger, before realizing that what she saw was a doorway. A quarter of an hour, in a house she could have walked around twice in a quarter of that. A very peculiar place, this.

- It's bigger inside!

- Oh, so that's Trolloc. Seems like dr. Moreau have some fun lately.

- Blight is Trolloc homeland. And Lan's homeland. (By the way where the hell is Lan?) That's has to be uneasy neighborhood.

At last, nothing moved except for her, dancing. She circled three more times before she realized it and stopped. Stopped humming.

- That's kinda badass.

- But still that was pretty close for only third step.

Into the Blight. Only madmen entered the Blight willingly

- Only madmen and princes on exile.

Chapter 10: It Finishes

- Five blind mice icon?

- And now quick shortcut through last 96 levels of Silent Hill that was thankfully skipped by author.

She found it drawn in the snow on a mountainside where gale winds beat at her and lightning struck all around, and in a great city of impossible towers where people babbled at her incomprehensibly. She found it in a night-shrouded forest, in a blackwater swamp, in a marsh of tall grass that cut like knives, on farms and plains, in hovels and palaces. Sometimes she found it while she was clothed, but her clothing frequently vanished, and just as often, she had none to begin. Sometimes she was suddenly bound with ropes or manacles, bent into contorted positions that twisted her joints, or hanging suspended by her wrists or ankles. She faced poisonous serpents and toothed water lizards three spans long, rampaging wild boars and hunting lions, hungry leopards and stampeding herds of wild cattle.

- Welcome in Westeros! Give my best wishes to Howland Reed.

- Virtual reality, real wound. Yikes.

- Oh, and that's a master grade of mindfuck. And probably some serious lack in basic ethic sense.

- Still doesn't work. Subconscious commands stronger than grief or love.

“The last test was very cruel,” she said, pausing with her dress ready to lift over her head. Pausing to watch their faces.

“It is not to be spoken of, however cruel,” Anaiya said firmly. “Not ever, to anyone.”

- And how exactly are you going to stop her?

- Of course it was Elaida fault. Man, what a mad bitch.

- And clerks are still writing down those bloody names. Shouldn't it be over after so much time.

- Old friendships are over. Or at least delayed.

- Srsly, girls I get Aes Sedai scare shit out of you, but you could at least congratulate your former mate, huh?

If Siuan failed, and survived failing − Light, let her live, at least − she would be brought back only long enough to gather her possessions and say her goodbyes. Moiraine refused to take the risk.

- So one failed test and it's over? No second chances? All those training, all those years in White Tower, and now you put them in you win or you die situation, and expel if they fail and somehow survive? Geez, no wonder you have demographic problems.

That furious blush − from Siuan! − begged intriguing questions, but…. To be shared in silence, and only then with the women who had shared it with you. How long since they two had failed to share everything? Even here, the shawl brought separations.

- Or you could, you know ignore those pointless rule, that probably exists only to save Elaida-type from being scorned after they break moral rules to make someone fail. It's not that someone hears you,

- Mice prank. So very mature.

- Aren't pranks against Aes Sedai serious crime?

- And even more why Elaida should be afraid of mice? She could like evaporate them in one second.

[Sansa_Stark]

You know, fuck it.

I'm reading new spring too now.

Gentlemen Bastards series was utterly disappointing.

[Wicked Woodpecker of West]

Chapter 11: Just Before Dawn

- Ah, the dark rituals in the middle of the night. But you know, sistars, those silk dresses are kinda dissonance. Cowls and robes are always classy.

Siuan spoke her own name at the same instant, defiance touching her tone, if only lightly. She insisted that Elaida would still find some way to rob them of the shawl, if she could.

- Well she would probably find a way to feed you both to wild goats if she could.

- And now Amyrlin has to change sacred words because there has never been two Aes Sedai consecrated at once. Kinda you could predict it before and get ready.

The ter’angreal presented the first problem to their plan. The tall oval was too narrow for both to pass through at once, not without squeezing together, and that hardly conformed to the required dignity. This was one argument Moiraine had won. Siuan gave her a look − it seemed impossible those blue eyes could turn sharp without altering her smooth expression, yet they did − and, gathering her skirts, stepped through with Moiraine following behind. Side by side they knelt in front of the Amyrlin Seat.

- Now I understand why Aes Sedai keep calling grown-up women per 'children'.

- Generic phallic item.

For an instant, Tamra hesitated, as though uncertain which of them to bind first, but only for an instant. Moiraine promptly raised her hands in front of her, palms upward, and Tamra placed the Rod there. This was the price Siuan had exacted, a favor to be granted, for Moiraine’s yielding precedence through the oval. Needless to say, she had not revealed her “favor” until Moiraine accepted. She would become Aes Sedai first by minutes. It was so unfair!

- Oh, for the Light's sake!

“Under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, I vow that I will speak no word that is not true.”

- But I'm gonna to constantly use manipulative, misleading and ambiguous small-talk, so ordinary folk gonna think I'm lying either way. Also" salvation and rebirth? Aren't those two kinda opposite?

“Under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, I vow that I will make no weapon for one man to kill another.”

- Why not? I mean sure, unbreakable swords are kinda cool but I somehow doubt they would be some serious threat to military status quo. And you can use them to kill Trollocs, and other nasty stuff. So technically if you're making a sword to kill Trollocs is it OK? Or if it's for a woman?

“Under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, I vow that I will never use the One Power as a weapon except against Shadowspawn, or in the last extreme of defending my life or that of my Warder or another sister.”

- And what about all innocent bystanders? Little children? Pregnant women? Fluffy kittens? Also I understand that Elaida couldn't use her power against rats. That's kinda pity.

- Invisible magic spandex suit.

“It is half done,” the Amyrlin intoned, “and the White Tower is graven on your bones.”

- How exactly? None of oaths said anything about obedience to you or Tower's law.

No physical hardship could faze Siuan, who had never wept until after Elaida was gone, had never shed a tear until they left Merean’s study. Siuan had the heart of a lion.

- Or skin of a rhino.

- So what exactly are Blue sisters doing except being much cooler than Reds?

The Blue sought to right wrongs, which was not always the same as seeking justice, like Greens and Grays.

- So I was right! Their exact purpose is being cooler than Reds.

“Seekers after Causes,” Verin had called Blues, and the capitals were there to be heard in her voice.

- So they are basically... Seekers of the Truth Ajah! Light save us! Light save the World!

Aeldra also kissed their cheeks and spoke words, then surprisingly added, “You each owe me a pie, made with your own hands. It’s customary among us for the sixth sister who gives you the welcome kiss.”

- Oh, admit it Aeldra, you just made up this rule.

Was the ceremony done so abruptly? A pie? She doubted Aeldra would be able to eat hers. She had never cooked anything in her life.

- In the Game of Pies you... oh damn it.

“Custom is a precious thing that should not be allowed to wither,” Rafela said, eyeing Siuan and her each in turn. “Will you proceed to the Blue Ajah quarters clad in the Light, as ancient custom required?”

- Clad in the Light? Lovely euphemism. But, are you mad Rafela?! There are leaky windows all over this place!

“And in your shawl, of course. To show that you need no protection beyond the Light and the shawl of an Aes Sedai.”

- Does this shawl is magical? Any AC bonuses?

But if she was required to go out in public wearing nothing else…! Oh, Light, now her face was turning hot! She had never seen an Aes Sedai blush.

- They have a special toilet powder for it.

- Wonder why they abandoned this interesting custom. High tuberculosis death rate?

Strangely, though Rafela had reached the shawl a year before Leane, she only sighed. “Customs should not be forgotten,” she said, but without any force.

- Indeed Rafela but to remember is not the same as to practice. For instant in cold winter nights I like to warm myself with memory of glorious deeds of Holy Officium, but then I'm checking prices of good, dry wood and all of suddenly I'm not so ardent to burn some heretics...

“Nor will we stop at each Ajah’s quarters calling for them to come out and see a sister of the Blue.” Shaking her head, she herded them through the doors, channeling briefly to swing them shut. “I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. You should have been the one blushing, Rafela. Verin told her she had such a sweet voice, she should take up singing. One Red came out to tell us to stop caterwauling and go away. And the Greens! Some Greens have a…rough…sense of humor.”

- Were you clad in the Light, Leane? That could add to Green roughness. (Also: Greens are definitely cool. Even without spanking orgies.)

- First Selector. Classy title.

“You must never reveal that title,” Rafela put in quickly.

- Because we don't want other Ajahs to know that our leader has such uncool title. That would be embarrassing.

She was not about to have the beginning of her search delayed by something as ridiculous as not wearing all blue on the first day of the month. Light, surely they did not enforce that one. Safer to be sure, though.

- Yo listen up here's a story
About a little guy that lives in a blue world
And all day and all night and everything he sees
Is just blue like him inside and outside

- Whites are smallest Ajah. After all who cares about logic these days.

- But Blue are second smallest?! I mean why? They are so so cool. Maybe this Seeker analogy scares Accepted off...

- And now party time! Or maybe spanking orgy, who knows!

[Wicked Woodpecker of West]

Chapter 12: Entering Home

Anaiya was the first to step forward and kiss their cheeks, saying, “Welcome home, sister. We have waited long for you.

- It would be a lot of longer if not for Leane.

Aeldra told me how she stole my pies,” she added, giving her shawl a twitch of irritation that was obvious pretense, betrayed by a laugh. “It wasn’t fair of her to take advantage of her position that way.”

- In a Game of Hot Pies you... oh, damn it.

“May we at least hope you two bake poorly? Aeldra likes pranks almost as much as you two, and it would be nice to see her repaid properly.”

- Blue Ajah. The Ajah of Pranks. Seekers after Causes, right.

- Cabriana is acting weird.

In any case, you may rest assured that whatever talents you have, a use will be found for them.

- Welcome into the Matrix.

Disliking the sound of that, Moiraine exchanged a guarded glance with Siuan. Well, neither of them had any special abilities.

- Except being born channelers, two most capable students of the Tower in generations?

But what danger was Eadyth going to warn them about? A danger even here.

- Our Tower is completely safe. But there is a homicidal three-headed dog living nearby Yellow Ajah quarters, and bunch of gigantic spiders in Tower's park. Oh, and also this gigantic serpent in our sewers.

- The Oath stops even untrue compliments.

- And here the first danger. Invasion of ruffles.

Unsurprisingly, the new dress fit perfectly. It was said the Tower knew more of its initiates than their seamstresses and hairdressers combined.

- And here we are losing our minds about Snowden and NSA.

- So now I'm sure that blue girl on e-book cover is definitely Moiraine. Forehead jewelry is proof enough. So, Lan and Moiraine. Half through the book and those two haven't met yet.

Now she was ready to navigate the currents here.

- Or maybe.... not.

“For six years you have been taught that the second greatest rudeness is to speak directly of someone’s strength in the One Power.” Her mouth twisted again briefly. “In truth, I find it difficult to do so now, necessary though it is. For six years, you have been strongly discouraged from thinking of your own strength in the Power or anyone else’s. Now, you must learn to compare your strength to that of every sister you meet. In time, it will become second nature, and you will do it without thought, but you must be very careful until you reach that point. "

- Wow, just wow. Just in a moment when you can actually think that Aes Sedai society isn't completely yikes. So under all those silk dresses, soft cushions and ruffles, just under legendary Aes Sedai indirectness and the White Tower high standards, we can find society ruled by pure power. It's like sitting in one of those classy Weimar cabarets, listening to Gershwin rhapsodies, watching girls dancing, drinking good whiskey and just when you leave the place you find that you have just accidentally join ranks of S.A.

If another sister stands higher than you in the Power, whatever her Ajah, you must defer to her. The higher she stands above you, the greater your deference. Failure in that is the third greatest rudeness, and third only by a hair. The most common reason for new sisters to be given penance is a misstep of that sort, and since the penance is set by the offended sister, it is seldom light. A month or two of Labor or Deprivation is the least you can expect. Mortification of the Spirit and Mortification of the Flesh are not unheard of.

- Why not Decapitation? And by the way what's FIRST greatest rudeness?

That thought came very hard. When the White Tower wanted to strongly discourage something, it was well and truly discouraged. Light, the Tower rooted something out of you, then made you use that very thing to determine precedence.

- Best Human Management Ever!

At least she and Siuan were near identical in strength, and likely would be as they gained their full potential. They had moved in lockstep so far. It would have seemed unnatural if Siuan had been forced to defer to her.

- Well, if it's the offended sister decision, if and how punish the weaker ones, then I suppose you could just ignore this rule among two of you.

- And srsly Edith, I get they brain-washed you when you were Accepted, but still after all those years (probably more than hundred) you should really get over it.

- Also, good to be bureaucrat in the Tower. It saves you from invisible hand of One Power.

- PRETTY. LITTLE. PORCELAIN. DOLL.

- And now hippie Sedai is playing cards with Siuan. But who is Vinicius and who Childermass here?

“There’s a game I’ve read about,” Siuan said slowly, “a game wealthy women play with cards, called Arrays.

- Men are banned from this game, just like from channeling?

“I’ll wager Moiraine has played the Arrays, yet I suspect she would have called it just the nonsensical list of playing cards or some such. Most would.

- I'm not exactly sure, but I think that someone who know how to play the game should be able to recognize game patterns. Especially if those Arrays rule is to put cards in descending order in one of set patterns.

- And now Tamra wants Moiraine. Welcome official Dragon Seeker?

Moiraine reddened. Of course everyone knew by now. Light! “Thank you,” she said, both for the Healing − the tightness did not loosen by a hair, but it was much more comfortable, after − and for the clue.

- Every occasion is good to make Moiraine blush.

Only one possibility came to mind. Now that she and Siuan were full sisters, Tamra might mean to put them among her searchers. After all, they already knew. Nothing else made sense.

- Ah, well I suppose that means that Official Dragon Seeker was a wrong idea, and Tamra wants something completely different.

- Whoa! POV change! Siuan's POV. What happens? Why? Is it Robert Jordan or George Martin. Anyway cool. (But if Siuan is on POV list why she weren't used before. POV changing is refreshing, man.)

[Wicked Woodpecker of West]

“But I don’t want a job,” Siuan protested, her belly rumbling with hunger yet again.

- Shame on you, Siuan! In this hard times, when so many young people are unemployed, you're acting fastidious.

She felt wrung out after hours in Cetalia’s rooms, so full of books and stacked boxes of papers that they seemed to belong to a Brown.

- Browns like books. Basically Ravenclaw.

Now go get something to eat. You are Aes Sedai, now; you cannot go around sounding like the leaky drain pipe.

- I think I like Cetalia.

She let nothing of anger touch her face, a lesson learned long before Tar Valon. On the fishing docks, displaying anger or fear either one could lead to trouble. Sometimes it could lead to a knife in your back.

- Who would think that fisherfolk are such nervous people. Well unless you're making noise when they are fishing, then knife in a kidney is understandable.

Outside, she did stalk, and the Dark One take anyone who did not like it!

- You would do well in Chernobyl.

The sight of Moiraine always made her smile. Cetalia had been wrong in one particular. She was not a pretty little porcelain doll; she was a beautiful little porcelain doll.

- Hmmm... that doesn't sound exactly friend-only... Is Siuan developing some crush on her friend?

Moiraine did not know the meaning of “give up.”

- Srsly, they didn't teach you that in the Tower? It's synonymy of "surrender".

“Worse,” Moiraine replied disconsolately. Her voice usually minded Siuan of silver bells, but Moiraine hated hearing that. “Tamra has put me in charge of distributing the bounty.”

- Buahahahahahahaha! Tamra you are a bloody mastermind. Oh' it was so obvious those two won't stay away of Dragon business so she cut them down right now as soon as they've got shawls!

“Blood and bloody ashes!” Siuan tested the words on her tongue. There would be no switchings now for speaking like herself.

- You switch people for words like this? Is it some kind of vulgarism?

- Oh, and now Siuan thinks just like me. Tamra knows. Oh, yes.

“I think not, Siuan. I was taught to manage an estate, though I only did it for a few months before coming to the Tower. She said that gave me all the skills I needed.” Her mouth twisted wryly. “I was ‘lying around loose,’ as she put it, and I suspect she decided to give an onerous task to a Blue as a way of being fair.

- Aes Sedai words. Truth hidden in plain sight.

- So Cetalia is Blue Ajah 'M'. Somehow I suppose that Siuan working in Tower MI-6 can be more useful for Dragon's cause than Siuan roaming countryside searching for Dragon Reborn in peasant houses.

And even if they are right, no one has ruled Cairhien for long without being willing to stoop to kidnapping, assassination and worse.

- I suppose that's kinda universal rule.

My great-grandmother, Carewin, ruled more than fifty years, and the Tower calls her a very successful ruler because Cairhien prospered and had few wars under her, but her name is still used to frighten children. Better to be forgotten than remembered like Carewin Damodred, but even with the Tower behind me, I will have to try matching her if the Hall succeeds.

- Carewin rhymes with Tywin.

Siuan could have kissed her. In fact, she did.

- Yep. Definitely crush.

- And now... Lan's POV. Wow, what a roller-coaster! Ten chapters of constant Moiraine and now three POV-s in one chapter. Really Mr. Jordan, if you can read me, you should use Siuan POV in earlier chapters. POV's change always refreshing.

“Are those the Spine of the World?” Rakim called in that rasping voice. “Impressive, but somehow I thought they’d be taller.”

“That’s Kinslayer’s Dagger,” a well-traveled Arafellin laughed. “Call them the foothills to the Spine and you won’t be far wrong.”

- You should call them Kinslayer's Crossbow.

“The Light send Pedron Niall doesn’t choose now to paint his face.” Niall, Lord Captain Commander of the Children of the Light, had the command today.

- They're changing commanders on a daily rate? I get there are international army and everybody wanna to be the First Nation of them, but still that's kinda unhealthy from strategic point of being.

“He won’t,” Lan said simply. Only a handful knew war as well as Niall.

- So, Commander of Whitecloaks is one of the most experienced warlords around. That can be interesting in the future.

- And now Bukama wants some well-earned holidays. Even samurai sometimes need one of this.

It was a great and wondrous city by all accounts, but too full of Aes Sedai for any comfort. Bukama talked animatedly of what they might see, in Andor and perhaps Tear. They had been in both lands, but contending with Aiel, they had not seen even the fabled Stone of Tear or any of the great cities.

- It's called Stone of Tears... Oh, wait.

Lan did not speak at all unless Bukama addressed him. He felt the pull of home sharply. All he wanted was a return to the Blight. And no encounters with Aes Sedai.

- Sorry Lan, narration law is kinda bitch.

[Wicked Woodpecker of West]

Chapter 13: Business in the City

The only women in the room wearing their shawls, they attracted looks from other sisters, not to mention a few amused smiles. Moiraine felt her cheeks heating, but it would take more than smiles to make her give up wearing the shawl every time she left her rooms.

- Laugh as you want, Aes Sedai, but until someone repair those bloody leaky windows those shawls are everything that stands between those girls and influenza.

Siuan complained that her fish was too heavily seasoned, yet she left nothing except the bones, and looked around as though thinking of asking for another.

- Sturgeon of second freshness?

The Sun Palace had taught Moiraine that power often grew from others deciding that you already had power, and an appearance of wealth could give that.

- Trick. Shadow on a wall. And even a short Aes Sedai can cast...

- Siuan is like Harry Potter discovering Gringotts.

Moiraine Sedai. This was the first time anyone had called her that, and she rather liked the sound.

- Definitely better last name than Demondread.

For an instant, Moiraine’s smile froze in place. With an effort, she unfroze it, made her voice casual. “Suppose you tell it to me again. I may winnow out something hearing it fresh.”

- Oh, some letter didn't reach its addressee. Interesting.

“He presented an order purportedly signed and sealed by the Amyrlin Seat directing me to lay open your finances to him. Unfortunately for him, I know Tamra Ospenya’s signature well, and the White Tower knows I would never reveal the affairs of my patrons in any respect. "

- That was really lame try. Those Littlefinger folk in Cairhien should definitely choose their henchman better.

I regret failing to take the opportunity to thrash his mistress or master’s name out of him, but as you know, White Tower law takes a dim view of that.

- Only if body is found afterwards.

I then hired him out as a bilgeboy on a rivership running ice peppers to Tear where he will be put ashore penniless, unless he persuades the captain to keep him on. I made sure of that by convincing her to give me his wages in advance. He is a pretty youth. He might persuade her. I think she had it in mind when she handed over the coins.

- You know, that's basically human-traffic. Aren't there any Tower laws against it?

No bank could afford to have it known one of its employees took bribes. She suspected the young man had gotten off so lightly because he was someone’s son or nephew, else he might well have floated downriver on his own. Bankers were hard folk.

- Ruthless bankers improve quality of every fantasy saga. I always say that Lord of the Rings would be much better if Sauron had his own Bank of Mordor.

Tower law required equal representation of every Ajah in the Tower’s bank, and now that she wore the shawl, she did not want her affairs known to other Blues, much less other Ajahs, especially after what she had just been told.

- You should give it all to Whites. They would be useful at least, and they should be good with arithmetic.

The only reason the Tower would have held back Mistress Dormaile’s letter was that the Hall hoped to lull her into thinking they had decided against putting her on the Sun Throne.

- And what about sanctity of correspondence you silk-clad puppet masters, huh? And now thanks to your machinations Littlefingers are all after Moiraine. Hope you gonna be happy, when you'll find one of your most promising young sisters in some dark alley with ten knives in her kidneys.

“You have done very well by me, Mistress Dormaile, to the pain of your house. Please transfer a suitable recompense from my accounts to your own.”

- But she didn't lose anything. Well except some corruptible young guard, which is hardly a loss.

She signed over her letter-of-rights and, before leaving, gave instructions at which Mistress Dormaile displayed no hint of surprise. Perhaps that was because she also was Cairhienin and so accustomed to Daes Dae’mar, or maybe bankers were all stoic. Perhaps she had other Aes Sedai as patrons. If so, Moiraine would learn of it only if the sisters told her. The grave was less discreet than Ilain Dormaile.

- Uhm, some mysterious instructions. That can be important.

- Seamstress make no curtsies.

Siuan had agreed on six dresses, to make up one for each day of the week with what she already had, but she wanted them in wool.

- Right, week ten days long.

She could have done with fewer, but the Hall might check. An order for twenty would make them think her settled in Tar Valon.

- I guess seamstresses aren't so discreet as bankers.

A Cairhienin cut suited her very well? Was the woman implying she could not succeed in wearing a Domani dress? Not that she would. Tamore’s garment was indecent! But there was the principle of the thing.

- Srsly.

- Seamstresses are like Aes Sedai. Only more. And with needles.

- But I would rather choose a little worse tailor that would do exactly as she's been told.

“We must not keep Tamore waiting long. Do not ask after prices; she will tell us the cost after we make our selections. Nothing you buy here will be cheap, but the dresses Tamore sews for you will make you look Aes Sedai as much as the shawl does. And it is Tamore, not Mistress Alkohima. You must observe the proprieties, or she will believe you are mocking her. But try thinking of her as a sister who stands just a little above you. A touch of deference is necessary. Just a touch, but she will tell you what to wear as much as she asks.”

- Heh, as I said. Aes Sedai only more. That's why most powerful mystical orders prefers robes or frocks. But no Aes Sedai. Their way is a hard way.

“And will the bloody shoemaker tell us what kind of slippers to buy and charge us enough to buy fifty new sets of nets?”

- I heard gaiters are popular this century.

“The shoemaker will make what we want, and we will bargain the price with him, but not too hard if we want his best work. The same with the glovemaker, the stockingmaker, the shiftmaker, and all the rest. Just be glad neither of us needs a hairdresser. The best hairdressers are true tyrants, nearly as bad as perfumers.”

- And why exactly tailors, barbers and cosmetologists should have some weird rules, why rest of craftsfolk acts normally? Oh, I get perfumers. They have right to act weirdly. Mixing all those weird extracts from rose flowers, whale vomits, eggs of dodo or gonads of koala demands at least Aes Sedai level of serenity.

Siuan barked a laugh, as if she were joking, but she would learn if she ever sat for a hairdresser, not knowing how her hair was to be arranged until the hairdresser was finished and allowed her to look in a mirror. At least, that was how it was in Cairhien.

- Just close your eyes and think about Daes Dae'mar.

- So riding dresses with false color code and some mysterious deal with bankers. White Tower schemers versus Moiraine Damodred, time to begin this game. Who will survive?

[Lord Rahvin]

As for AS in the Age of Legends, if they had gone along with LTT's plan then Saidar would have been tainted as well and the world would have already been destroyed.

RJ:

Wow I never even thought about that???

[Wicked Woodpecker of West]

Because this possibility is too terrible to think about.

[Wicked Woodpecker of West]

Chapter 14: Changes

It would have been a shame to gain a penance for something so trivial as wearing red inside the Tower.

- Yeah, a shame for a lawmakers.

Red gems were allowed, firedrops or rubies or garnets, but the color was forbidden in clothing, a matter of some long-standing animosity between the Blue and the Red, so old no one was actually certain what had begun it or when. Blue and Red opposed each other as a matter of course, at times bringing the Hall to a near standstill.

- Are you 12? Also: to be sure. Red Ajah founders didn't seal a semi-immortal giant snake under one of Tower's bathrooms, did they?

The very idea of enmity between Ajahs startled her

- Really? That was quite predictable.

At the moment, there was a slight strain with the White, for reasons known only to the White, and something more tense with the Yellow, with sisters of each accusing sisters of the other of interfering with their actions in Altara some hundred years past.

- ARE YOU 12?

Each was a snare lying in wait for an unwary step or a careless word. Light, the tangle of it all made Daes Dae’mar child’s play!

- No it isn't. There are only seven Ajahs, and apparently all relations of Blues can be easily summarized on 2 pages. So you've got 10 pages, or something. That cannot possibly cope with internal politics of Littlefinger kingdom.

Siuan heard her recitations every night, just as they had as novice and Accepted, and she heard Siuan’s, though there hardly seemed a point. Siuan never made any mistakes.

- Unless talking with tailors.

Did Siuan have any secret weaves? It was not the sort of question you could ask your closest friend.

- I don't know, but for me that's exactly that kind of question.

“The mind must be as still as an unruffled pond throughout,” she said pedantically, just as she lectured in the classroom.

- Hey, I know this technique. We were calling it "I'm screwed leaf of lotus on a goddamned, quiet shit of lake".

Breathing so, focused so, soon your mind becomes detached from the outer world, no longer acknowledging heat or cold. You might walk naked in a blizzard or across a desert without shivering or sweating.

- I'm not sure if that's actually healthy.

“Frostbite and sunburn would still present difficulties, after a time. Only the mind is truly distanced, the body much less so.”

- Just like after shrooms.

But then, if women who had worn the shawl two hundred years or more could find no solution, why should she be able to?

- Because narration laws say so.

Moiraine got invitations, too, from Cairhienin nobles of two dozen Houses and almost as many merchants wealthy enough to rub shoulders with the nobility. Only the Hall’s plans for her could have placed so many powerful Cairhienin in the city at one time.

- Great job, Sitters. Girl knows about your plan, all Cairhienin nobility knows. Probably also every single assassin.

- Oh, Moiraine is trolling all the Littlefingers. That's the best you can do - refuse to play.

Siuan joined her for tea in her rooms before going down to supper, but instead of taking a cup, she flung herself down in a leaf-carved armchair and folded her arms angrily beneath her breasts. Her face was anything but stiff, and her eyes were blue fire.

- Oh, Light! Moiraine run! The Others got her!

- And now Siuan is free to fish as much as she want.

- The First Oath stops even common exaggerations. Man, that's really not nice.

[Wicked Woodpecker of West]

She tried to make them arrange the distribution faster − the Tower’s vast resources could have seen to it in a week, surely; the Tower held hundreds more clerks − but clerks worked at their own pace. They even seemed to slow down after her suggestion of speed.

- What's the point of being a powerful sorceress if tailors, barbers or clerks can ignore your orders?

- They killed Ellid! You bastards!

There was no announcement; the White Tower never flaunted its failures, and a woman dying in her test was counted a great failure on the Tower’s part.

- Geez, no wonder. Considering it's examining sisters choice what to put against Accepted that should basically count as a murder.

- And the Dragon Seek... Search began!

Anaiya was warm and open, and made you feel that all would come out well in the end.

- She's probably evil or something.

Siuan produced a fish pie that the gray-haired sister declared quite tasty, only within the hour she was running for the privy and required Healing.

- Thank Light, it weren't a shrimp pie.

Technically, Siuan was the newest Blue by a hair, but Cetalia refused to lose her services for even a few hours, so it was Moiraine who laid the shawl on the fire-haired Saldaean’s shoulders when she chose the Blue the following day, and escorted her beaming back to the Blue quarters for the welcome.

- But Aes Sedai consecration takes part just before dawn. Are they working whole nights or something?

- Also: yeah Shieram! Go, go ginger girls!

- And what's High Chasaline, by the way?

It was the Day of Reflection in Cairhien, yet Moiraine could not manage to dwell on her sins and faults.

- Cairhienin should rather celebrate Day of Honesty.

Sisters began to talk of a resurgence in the Tower, with so many passing for the shawl in so short a time, and perhaps another one or two who might very soon.

- Yeah, not killing off Accepted would help even more.

Siuan tried to soothe her, but how could she be happy when the White Tower was destined to become a monument to the dead?

- Don't worry, Moiraine. After all it's highly possible that most sisters won't survive The Last Battle.

- Damn. Tamra is dead. That's kinda unexpected. It's like Dumbledore choking himself dead on lemon sherbet while leaving baby Potter with Dursleys on the beginning. That's bring the whole new level of mess.

Self-disgust immediately stabbed her heart, and she pushed the bowl of porridge away, all appetite gone. A woman she admired with all her soul had died, and she thought of advantage in it! Daes Dae’mar truly was ingrained in her bones, and maybe all the darkness of the Damodreds.

- Also it's quite possible that you are just a member of Homo sapiens species.

She very nearly asked Merean for a penance, but the Mistress of Novices might give her something that would hold her in Tar Valon longer.

- Penance for think-crime? Is it Robert Jordan or Orwell's 1984.

- I really think they care too much about clothes.

- Also: embroidery that somehow makes dress indecent.

Moiraine’s garment earned more than a few raised eyebrows, but the sisters’ disapproval was part of her penance. Mortification of the Spirit was always the hardest to endure.

- So that's Mortification of Spirit. Well, I was expecting something more... you know... mortifictating.

Strangely, the Whites all wore glossy black ribbons, yet it must have been an Ajah custom, for it garnered no frowns or stares from the other sisters.

- Hey, that's logical.

Only the Sitters spoke among the Reds, and then in very few words, but perhaps that was custom as well.

- Custom kiss my ass, bloody Slytherins.

The rest of the day she wore that shaming dress, and that night burned it. She would never have been able to look at it again without remembering

- Let's hope that Mistress Alkohima won't hear about it or: more embroidery, more pale dresses, and they can be really indecent this time...

- And now: CONCLAVE!

- Oh, and it finished.

- Apparently they tested "water, bread and sealed doors" before.

- And new Amyrlin is Grey.

- And psycho-bitch.

None came from Sierin, and in the space of half a week, every last male clerk in the Tower had been dismissed without a character, supposedly for flirting with novices or Accepted, or for “inappropriate looks and glances,” which could have meant anything. Even men so old their grandchildren had children went, and some who had no liking for women at all.

- No more mudbloods!

- And public whipping. Srsly.

- So Sierin had wanted to become Red, before she chose Grey. Some kind of Trojan Horse?

- And srsly who voted for that woman. Borgias?

- Anyone missing Elaida?

Quite plump, her round face appeared to have been constructed for jolliness, but she wore implacable grimness as though it had been carved there.

- In Jordan's novels even the hobbits are evil.

“I’d stop that fool bounty entirely if it wouldn’t put the Tower in bad odor. A ridiculous waste of coin.

- The carnival is over, signor Marini.

“You will remain in Tar Valon, of course. As you know, we will have need of you, soon.”

- Sierin apparently doesn't give shit about Daes Dae'mar.

“Ruined farms and villages will hardly make for a refreshing outing, I fear,” the white-haired Sitter murmured.

- I just love the smell of the napalm in the morning...

- I think I like Eadyth.

- And truly Moiraine hadn't planned to cross any of bridges. Smart girls.

- And here our Late Lor... Mr. Assasin.

- So, Moiraine is free. Not counting Amyrlin spiders, Cairhien assassins and oncoming Storm, but still it's kind of freedom. Time for some real action.

- It was really, really BIG chapter. I suppose it could be easily divided, and some of earlier unnecessary chapters could be dissolved in its place. Really.

[Wicked Woodpecker of West]

Chapter 15: Into Canluum

- Hi, Lan. Good to see you again.

The air of Kandor held the sharpness of new spring when Lan returned to the lands where he had always known he would die.

- So the book is named New Spring because action is set during new spring... That's quite disappointing.

- People don't like Malkieri for some reason.

He remained aware, but the Blight lay north. Still miles away across the hills, yet he could feel it, feel the twisted corruption.

- Ah, home, sweet home.

The Blight meant death to most men. Death and the Shadow, in a rotting land tainted by the Dark One’s breath, where anything at all could kill, an insect bite, the prick of the wrong thorn, a touch of the wrong leaf.

- So you're telling me that this Blight is basically... Australia.

- Also: what the heck is Myrddraal?

- Also: Lan's death wish is certainly larger than Charles Bronson's one.

The Red Stag waved above every tower. A proud man, was Lord Varan, the High Seat of House Marcasiev

- Red Stag? Stannis perhaps?

- Also apparently some evil Eyeless folk around.

Their faces were clearly visible. And their hadori. No recognition lit any of those watching eyes, though. Two years was a long time in the Borderlands. A great many men could die in two years.

- Like for instance all your friends, Lan. Any basically half the guys around.

“You stand ready for what, boy?” The heel of his bare hand struck the guard’s breastplate right over the Red Stag, driving the man upright and back a step. “You cut your hair short and leave it unbound!” Bukama spat the words. “You’re sworn to a Kandori lord! By what right do you claim to be Malkieri?”

- Oh, you know Bukama. Blood. Thicker than leather. Also Kandori guys laugh at him because he's too tall.

- Murders in broad daylight and strange accidents. That can be important. Or you know that can be your usually Borderland routine.

For a moment he thought Seroku was surprised. Did the man expect pledges to keep the peace, or apologies for Bukama’s behavior? Either would shame Bukama, now. A pity if the war ended here. Lan did not want to die killing Kandori.

- So maybe better hide your precious honor into a pocket. Really someone would think that with all those Trollocs and stuff around, you should be more pragmatic not touchy as some bloody French musketeers.

- Ha, wise move, Bukama!

“There is peace in the mother’s last embrace,” Lan responded with equal formality, touching hilt and heart.

“May she welcome us home, one day,” Seroku finished. No one really wished for the grave, but that was the only place to find peace in the Borderlands.

- Great idea, Death wish as a formal greeting.

Once you might have gone a year without seeing an Aes Sedai even in the Borderlands, but the sisters seemed to be everywhere since their old Amyrlin Seat died.

- Seemingly many sisters don't want to stay in Tower ruled by Sierin. Who the hell vote for that woman!?

Who would give up his freedom to trot at an Aes Sedai’s heels unless there was more to it than asking?

- There are always some fools that want to learn predator-gaze in Warder Academy.

- Bukama doesn't care about veiled women. Or bearded Malkieri. It's Alzheimer? Or maybe just wisdom.

Women eager to share the bed of a man fool stories claimed the Blight could not kill. Kandor and Arafel were as bad as any southland at times; some of those women would be married.

- Thankfully there is always Cairhien.

And there would be men like Kurenin, working to submerge memories of lost Malkier, and women who no longer adorned their foreheads with the ki’sain in pledge that they would swear their sons to oppose the Shadow while they breathed.

- I don't know what's this ki'sain is, but if it's something similar to hadori I'm really not surprised those folk stopped doing it with first good opportunity. You know, if you wanna swear something just do it. You don't need to get fuckin' migraine.

He could ignore the false smiles while they named him al’Lan Dai Shan, diademed battle lord and uncrowned king of a nation betrayed while he was in his cradle.

- Betrayed? By whom? I thought that this so called Blight devoured Malkier, not some friends...

With what we’ve heard of bandits and the like, he will be just as happy if I don’t appear to make my bows.” True enough. He had met the High Seat of House Marcasiev only once, years past, but he remembered a grave-faced man given entirely to his duties. Lord Marcasiev would arrange those balls and hunts, and regret every one.

- Oh, damn. So the Red Stag is truly local Stannis version! Hell yeah! Give us more of Varan Marcasiev, please!

[Wicked Woodpecker of West]

Chapter 16: The Deeps

- The Deeps. Still better than Flea Bottom.

- That's kinda warm welcome. Lucky Bukama.

He lowered his gaze rather than meeting her eyes rudely, and that proved a mistake. Racelle’s fist caught his jaw so hard that his hair flailed as he staggered.

- Or maybe not so warm. Also: is it rude to meet woman's eyes up north? Even the woman that's just nearly sucked your breath out? Man, what a wicked culture.

“Six years without a word,” she snapped. “Six years!”

- Sorry honey, I was totally busy trying to get myself killed along my ward in a hopeless war against whole Australia.

- Well, still good job Bukama if she remembers you after all those years.

Grabbing his ears again, she gave him another kiss, longer this time. Took it rather than gave. A sharp twist of his ears met every attempt to do anything besides standing bent over and letting her do as she wished. At least she would not put a knife in his heart if she was kissing him. Perhaps not.

- Still ear thing seems a little bit extreme.

- And here's Ryne. Malkieri turned Dothraki.

Dark-eyed and full-lipped, she stared Lan up and down openly as she set his mug in front of him, then whispered her name, Lira, in his ear, and an invitation, if he was staying the night. All he wanted that night was sleep, so he lowered his gaze, murmuring that she honored him too much. Lira did not let him finish. With a raucous laugh, she bent to bite his ear, hard.

- I guess Cairhienin folk don't dare to visit Kandor if they can only avoid it. Also: too much ear violation.

If he tried to say no now, she might well pull a knife over the insult.

- To cut your ears off?

The man wore a single blade on his hip instead of two on his back, yet he was Arafellin to his toenails. He actually started conversations with women who had not spoken to him first.

- Those Arafellins seem to be terrible barbarians. I bet they sacrifice children to the Dark One in dark and stormy nights.

If Lira did share his bed tonight, as seemed certain, she would discover there was nothing shy or retiring about him once they were abed, yet the woman chose when to enter that bed and when to leave.

- Playing shy to get laid as a strategy of national reproduction. You gonna truly fit Moiraine when you'll finally meet.

- And now old Lan's sweetheart wanna to turn his private war into real war. That cannot possibly end well.

“What dies in the Blight is gone,” Lan said wearily.

- Wanna test that theory?

- Ah, Lan you ol' romantic. That's gonna make you killed.

The ring of Malkieri kings, worn by men who had held back the Shadow nine hundred years and more. Countless times it had been remade as time wore it down, always the old ring melted to become part of the new. Some particle might still exist in it of the ring worn by the rulers of Rhamdashar, that had lived before Malkier, and Aramaelle that had been before Rhamdashar. That piece of metal represented over three thousand years fighting the Blight.

- Countless times? I think that's bit of exaggeration. I mean how often one need to remade his rings. Rings are quite solid, I suppose. I doubt it was remade more than fifteen times during all those millennia.

- Also: you see Lan? Nations are rising and dying, and being remade all the time. That's the great circle of life!

The locket, containing the painted images of the mother and father he could not remember seeing in life, was the most precious, the oath the heaviest. “To stand against the Shadow so long as iron is hard and stone abides. To defend the Malkieri while one drop of blood remains. To avenge what cannot be defended.”

- Kinda radical to sworn in a newborn's name. And what if after growing adult he 'd say that he doesn't give a damn?

Nothing remained to be defended now, only a nation to avenge, and he had been trained to that from his first step. With his mother’s gift at his throat and his father’s sword in his hand, with the ring branded on his heart, he had fought from his sixteenth nameday to avenge Malkier. But never had he led men into the Blight. Bukama had ridden with him, and others, but he would not lead men there. That war was his alone. The dead could not be returned to life, a land any more than a man. Only, now, Edeyn Arrel wanted to try.

- Frankly, that's mad idea, but still more rational than private war against mutant mosquitoes. Anyway I suppose at least part of old-time Malkieri wouldn't say no to some bloody pest control.

Until Bukama and the other men gave him the hadori. The gift of his sword on his tenth nameday had made him a man by custom along the Border, though years early for it, yet among Malkieri that band of braided leather had been more important.

- Yeah, how could magical, unbreakable sword even match those terrible headaches.

Your carneira wears part of your soul as a ribbon in her hair forever. Custom strong as law made it so.

- There are laws about poetic metaphors. Cose I'm quite sure it isn't about creating a horcrux with your's lover hair.

An army could die trying to defeat the Blight. Armies had died trying

- Well that's known fact that mosquitoes killed more soldiers than a actual fighting.

“How do you suggest I avoid my obligations without shame?” he asked more harshly than he had intended.

- I don't know Lan, maybe a little bit shame would be profitable if that saves your nation from mass suicide. Unless you want them too, then feel free.

- Oh, and now assassins. Would be more thrilling if cover hadn't spoiled that it's not the time.

“Inside and bar the doors!” Lan snapped as his hand went to his hilt. “Obey me, armsman!”

Never in his life had he given Bukama a command in that fashion, and the man hesitated a heartbeat, then bowed formally. “My life is yours, Dai Shan,” he said in a thick voice. “I obey.”

- Hell, that was touching.

- So, you use all those cool pseudonyms rather than describe actual fight in some more visual way. Just great.

Only in stories did one man face six without injury. The Rose Unfolds sliced down a bald man’s left arm, and ginger-hair nicked the corner of Lan’s eye. Only in stories did one man face six and survive.

- Lucky you then.

- And now Lan you are officially bad-ass.

- So, old Lan's lover wants to kill him to become queen herself? Queen of land corrupted by infernal evil? Great choice truly.

“I’d never accuse the Lady Edeyn of any such thing. I’m sure she is full of all a woman’s tender mercy.” Mistress Arovni gave a grunt hard as a fist, and Lira murmured half under her breath that the pretty Arafellin knew little about women.

- And some women knew little about irony.

Edeyn might decide to have him killed if it suited her purposes, she might have left orders here and there in case the rumors about him proved false, but if she had, that was still no reason to speak her name in connection with this, especially in front of strangers.

- No reason? Really? Like no reason to tell people - don't trust her!

To put his hand on the banner and abandon what he had promised himself all those years ago, or to stop her, if he could. Either way, he had to face Edeyn. The Blight would have been much easier.

- Don't worry Lan. After all there is Blight in the end of both ways. Well, unless you'll meet some Aes Sedai...

[Wicked Woodpecker of West]

Chapter 17: An Arrival

Chasing after prophecy, Moiraine had decided by the end of the first month, involved very little adventure and a great deal of boredom. Now, three months out of Tar Valon, her grand search consisted mainly of frustration.

- And you can end up killing your own grandfather.

“They were all trapped. How could the whole stable be ablaze so fast? It makes no sense.”

- So one of possible Dragon babies were killed in a mysterious fire with most of his family. Not suspicious at all, huh.

“We cannot always see the reason, yet we can take some comfort in knowing there is one. The Wheel of Time weaves us into the Pattern as it wills, but the Pattern is the work of the Light.”

- Does Wheel of Time has any reason except sustaining own existence? Salvation? Enlightenment? Social justice?

People allowed questions from a noble they never would from a commoner, and accepted odd behavior as natural.

- Really? Even from minor foreign nobles without any guards or servants?

The latest news she had from there, a month old, spoke of four Houses laying claim to the throne and fierce skirmishes, some approaching battles. Light, how many would die before that was settled? There would have been deaths had she gone along with the Hall − the succession to the Sun Throne was always contested, whether through open warfare or assassination and kidnapping − but at least she had been gone long enough to put paid to that.

- Geez, no wonder your family were such a Borgias, Moiraine. I mean how can anyone rule a monarchy without any proper system of succession and not become a monster.

Jurine Najima had lost her husband and three sons in one fiery morning, but her Jerid had been born in the wrong place by almost twenty miles. Moiraine disliked feeling relief in connection with the death of an infant. Yet she did. The dead boy was not the one she sought.

- Don't worry, Moiraine. I'm quite sure Child of the Prophecy cannot be killed so easily neither by accident nor some Dark One's chimes.

- So, Moiraine is in Canluum too. At least.

- You know what, Moiraine? It's not wise to take a room in a best inn available if you wanna avoid meeting another Aes Sedai.

Many Aes Sedai disliked wilders, considering them a loss to the Tower, yet few went out of their way to make their lives difficult.

- Well I suppose it's Aes Sedai fault not to find potential students on time.

- And hello Merean. What a wonderful surprise.

- What the hell is this "peaches are poison" talk about.

“It is quite true, Aes Sedai,” Moiraine said carefully, relieved that someone else had laid a foundation. “I have no desire to enroll as a novice, and I will not.”

- That's hilarious.

Cadsuane, too, wore her shawl, fringed in green. “In my opinion, girl,” she said dryly, “you could profit from ten years in white.”

- Oh, she knows so so very much. I like her already.

It was said she bent Tower law where it suited her, flouted custom, went her own way and often dragged others with her.

- Really like her.

It was whispered that she had actually assaulted an Amyrlin, once. Impossible, of course; she would have been executed!

- Unless Amyrlin decided not to press charges.

Moiraine blinked. A direct question. The woman really did ignore custom when it suited her.

- There is no more deadly weapon against Aes Sedai.

- Thanks, Merean, for ruining Moiraine's reputation completely.

“Instead of spending the night in contemplation, they tried to sneak mice into a sister’s bed − Elaida a’Roihan − and were caught. I doubt any other women have been raised Aes Sedai while still too tender to sit from their last visit to the Mistress of Novices.”

- Oh, so they were caught. Wonder why this tremendous information had to be hidden till now.

Moiraine kept her face smooth, kept her hands from knotting into fists, but she could do nothing about burning cheeks. That ruefully amused frown, as if she were still Accepted. She needed seasoning, did she? Well, perhaps she did, some, but still. And spreading out all these intimacies!

- Intimacies? Really? I'm thinking you are really bit oversensitive even for Cairhienin. I really can't see how possibly stories about your Accepted pranks can count as intimacies.

“I think you know all of me that you need to know,” she told Cadsuane stiffly. How close she and Siuan had been was no one’s business but theirs. And their punishments, details of their punishments.

- Really, what's so shocking about it, girl. This woman is oldest Aes Sedai around, and she definitely knows details of Accepted punishments.

“I might live another thirty years,” Cadsuane said, putting out a hand for the cup Moiraine offered, “or only three. Who can say?”

Moiraine’s eyes went wide, and she slopped hot wine over her own wrist. Merean gasped, and Larelle looked as though she had been struck in the forehead with a stone.

- Cadsuane is uber-troll. I really, really like her.

“Is there some point to this?” Merean asked, sounding a little sick. Larelle pressed her hands against her middle, her face gray.

- "No, sisters it's just so funny to watch you."

“No one has come to the Tower in a thousand years who could match me. No one to match Meilyn or Kerene in almost six hundred. A thousand years ago, there would have been fifty sisters or more who stood higher than this child. In another hundred years, though, she’ll stand in the first rank. Oh, someone stronger may be found in that time, but there won’t be fifty, and there may be none. We dwindle.”

- Wait? Are you telling me you are thousand years old, Cadsuane? Or how could you possible match yourself with all those dead Aes Sedai before?

“Before you find a Warder like that, child, a brigand who wants to see what’s in your purse will put an arrow through your heart. A footpad who’d faint at the sight of a sister in her sleep will crack your head, and you’ll wake at the back of an alley minus your gold and maybe more. I suspect you’ll want to take as much care choosing your first man as you do your first Warder.”

- I'll bet Cadsuane would call Voldemort per "Tom".

She had never seen anything like it. Except an avalanche, once.

- Well, I stepped into an avalanche...

- CADSUANE IS FREAKIN' AWESOME!

[Toshio.Keepiru]

At least Brandon Sanderson's prose was better than Mr. Jordan's would have been for the last books.

[Suttree]

At least Brandon Sanderson's prose was better than Mr. Jordan's would have been for the last books.

Sorry but am I not understanding a joke here? BS had a very difficult task and there are many things he did well. The quality of prose is certainly not one of them however. To his credit, he is the first one to admit that.

Brandon Sanderson

The primary thing that I think Robert Jordan was really good at that I'm just mediocre at is prose. I've always tried to create very utilitarian prose, prose that gets across my idea and my story. I use what we call Orwellian prose: I try to make my prose a clear pane of glass that you see the story through. Robert Jordan was on a completely different level. He could create very engaging, beautiful prose while not distracting from the story. There are very few writers who are capable of that. Tolkien was another one, and actually, in our current era Pat Rothfuss is one of those. I envy their prose, and I think that they are just really, really good with prose, and Robert Jordan was as well.

[SpaceChampion]

I really, really, really think reading the books in chronological order screws things up. But that's just me.

Having just read New Spring for the first time, I can't say I see any at all that it would screw up.

Cadsuane is about 275 years old.

[Wicked Woodpecker of West]

At least Brandon Sanderson's prose was better than Mr. Jordan's would have been for the last books.

Well I find this extremely polite way to say "It's good you're dead, old man, so the younger, brighter one can fulfill you inheritance".

Also: New Spring is one of the last books of late Mr. Jordan I must say that I cannot complain of quality of his prose.

.He could create very engaging, beautiful prose while not distracting from the story. There are very few writers who are capable of that. Tolkien was another one, and actually, in our current era Pat Rothfuss is one of those. I envy their prose, and I think that they are just really, really good with prose, and Robert Jordan was as well.

And here Mr. Sanderson went to far in opposite direction in my opinion. But then I suppose he has to be a REAL FAN if he agreed to sacrifice this few years on finishing other authors work.

Having just read New Spring for the first time, I can't say I see any at all that it would screw up.

Did you read any main cycle books?

Cadsuane is about 275 years old.

So, how could she possibly know that there wasn't any stronger Aes Sedai in thousand years. White Tower has some secret Power-o-metres?

[SpaceChampion]

Did you read any main cycle books?

Yep. Have the complete set in hardcover. (Except for New Spring -- I had read the shorter version years ago, in the Legends anthology, so never felt the need to read this before.) Only read it now because it's Moiraine and Lan, and was nostalgic for them.

So, how could she possibly know that there wasn't any stronger Aes Sedai in thousand years. White Tower has some secret Power-o-metres?

No idea. Perhaps she was told when she achieved the shawl (at age 26 according to the wiki) by the oldest Aes Sedai living at the time that no one in her time was more powerful than her, and she in turn was told by some old fart when she achieved her shawl, and so on back a thousand years? Like a game of telephone... Probably not reliable intel.

Though Browns are likely to keep track of things like that, so it might be in some of the private Tower history books.

[fionwe1987]

So, how could she possibly know that there wasn't any stronger Aes Sedai in thousand years. White Tower has some secret Power-o-metres?

Because very strong sisters always attract notice and are the standard against which new entrants are compared. Assume someone as strong as Cadsuane lived a 1000 years ago. Everyone who came after her would be compared to her. Over time, the next strongest would be the standard, and once that one dies, the next strongest, and so on. These records are maintained in the Tower (every Novice has an entry about when they joined, how strong they were, how long they were a Novice, when/if they became Accepted, etc.). So when someone like Cadsuane came along, it would have been very easy for an Aes Sedai to backtrack on the records and see when the last person with her strength came to the Tower.

For Aes Sedai, the question of whom to defer to and by how much is a very important tool in their political life. The primary measure is degree of difference in strength in the power. Age differences come next. This is followed by differences in number of years spent as Novice and Accepted. A real wildcard is whether you were a Wilder or started channeling in the Tower. All else being equal, Wilders tend to be lower on the totem pole than those who started in the Tower, but (based on the main series) this may not be enforced much.

Given all this, Aes Sedai tend to have a very good knowledge of these factors. Mistakes can be catastrophic, so they tend to keep up. Cadsuane is, in this system, kind of like the ultimate wild card. She entered the Tower with the highest potential, and the day she became Aes Sedai, she was already the strongest woman in the Tower (this is from Jordan's notes). Women like her tend to be notorious and well known to Aes Sedai. They're obsessed enough with strength that strong women become instant celebrities, with their other attributes taking a backseat sometimes. Elaida is a good example of that.

[fionwe1987]

No idea. Perhaps she was told when she achieved the shawl (at age 26 according to the wiki) by the oldest Aes Sedai living at the time that no one in her time was more powerful than her, and she in turn was told by some old fart when she achieved her shawl, and so on back a thousand years? Like a game of telephone... Probably not reliable intel.

Though Browns are likely to keep track of things like that, so it might be in some of the private Tower history books.

There's an actual Novice Book maintained by the Mistress of the Novices, actually.