Free A Memory Of Light: Wheel of Time Book 14 by Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson Page A

coat off your back and beat you bloody if you don’t offer your shoes,
     too.”
    Emarin raised an eyebrow.
    “Knoks was well outside Lugard, Canler,” Androl said. “I think you’d find the people there not dissimilar to Andorans. The
     rebellion happened about… oh, ten years back, now.”
    “A group of farmers overthrew their lord,” Emarin said. “He deserved it, by all accounts—Desartin was a horrid person, particularly
     to those beneath him. He had a force of soldiers, one of the largest outside of Lugard, and was looking as if he’d set up
     his own little kingdom. There wasn’t a thing the King could do about it.”
    “And Desartin was overthrown?” Canler asked.
    “By simple men and women who had had too much of his brutality,” Androl said. “In the end, many of the mercenaries who had
     been his cronies stood with us. Though he’d seemed so strong, his rotten core led to his downfall. It seems bad here, but
     most of Taim’s men are not loyal to him. Men like him don’t inspire loyalty. They collect cronies, others whohope to share in the power or wealth. We
can
and
will
find a way to overthrow him.”
    The others nodded, though Pevara simply watched him with pursed lips. Androl couldn’t help feeling a bit of the fool; he didn’t
     think the others should be looking to him, instead of someone distinguished like Emarin or someone powerful like Nalaam.
    From the corner of his eye, he saw the shadows underneath the table lengthen, reaching for him. He set his jaw. They wouldn’t
     dare take him with so many people around, would they? If the shadows were going to consume him, they’d wait until he was alone,
     trying to sleep.
    Nights terrified him.
    They’re coming when I don’t hold to
saidin
now,
he thought.
Burn me, the Source was cleansed! I’m not supposed to be losing more of my wits!
    He gripped the seat of his stool until the terror retreated, the darkness withdrawing. Canler—looking uncharacteristically
     cheerful—said he was going to fetch them something to drink. He wandered toward the kitchen, but nobody was to go about alone,
     so he hesitated.
    “I suppose I could use a drink as well,” Pevara said with a sigh, joining him.
    Androl sat down to continue his work. As he did, Emarin pulled over a stool, settling down beside him. He did so nonchalantly,
     as if merely looking for a good place to relax and wanting a view out the window.
    Emarin, however, wasn’t the type to do things without several motivations. “You fought in the Knoks Rebellion,” Emarin said
     softly.
    “Did I say that?” Androl resumed his work on the leather.
    “You said that when the mercenaries switched sides, they fought with you. You used the word ‘us’ to refer to the rebels.”
    Androl hesitated.
Burn me. I
really
need to watch myself.
If Emarin had noticed, Pevara would have as well.
    “I was just passing through,” Androl said, “and was caught up in something unanticipated.”
    “You have a strange and varied past, my friend,” Emarin said. “The more I learn of it, the more curious I become.”
    “I wouldn’t say that I’m the only one with an interesting past,” Androl said softly. “Lord Algarin of House Pendaloan.”
    Emarin pulled back, eyes widening. “How did you know?”
    “Fanshir had a book of Tairen noble lines,” Androl said, mentioning one of the Asha’man soldiers who had been a scholar before
     coming to theTower. “It included a curious notation. A house troubled by a history of men with an unmentionable problem, the most recent
     one having shamed the house not a few dozen years ago.”
    “I see. Well, I suppose that it is not too much of a surprise that I am a nobleman.”
    “One who has experience with Aes Sedai,” Androl continued, “and who treats them with respect, despite—or because of—what they
     did for his family. A
Tairen
nobleman who does this, mind you. One who does not mind serving beneath what you would term farmboys, and who