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

sympathizes
     with citizen rebels. If I might say, my friend, that is
not
a prevalent attitude among your countrymen. I wouldn’t hesitate to guess you’ve had an interesting past of your own.”
    Emarin smiled. “Point conceded. You would be wonderful at the Game of Houses, Androl.”
    “I wouldn’t say that,” Androl said with a grimace. “Last time I tried my hand at it, I almost…” He stopped.
    “What?”
    “I’d rather not say,” Androl said, face flushing. He was
not
going to explain that period of his life.
Light, people will think I’m as much a tale-spinner as Nalaam if I continue on like this.
    Emarin turned to watch the rain hitting the window. “The Knoks Rebellion succeeded for only a short time, if I remember correctly.
     Within two years the noble line had reestablished itself and the dissenters were driven out or executed.”
    “Yes,” Androl said softly.
    “So we do a better job of it here,” Emarin said. “I’m your man, Androl. We all are.”
    “No,” Androl said. “We are the
Black Tower’s
men. I’ll lead you, if I must, but this isn’t about me, or about you, or any of us individually. I am only in charge until
     Logain returns.”
    If he ever returns,
Androl thought.
Gateways into the Black Tower don’t work any longer. Is he trying to return, but finds himself locked out?
    “Very well,” Emarin said. “What do we do?”
    Thunder crashed outside. “Let me think,” Androl said, picking up his piece of leather and his tools. “Give me one hour.”
    “I’m sorry,” Jesamyn said softly, kneeling beside Talmanes. “There is nothing I can do. This wound is too far along for my
     skill.”
    Talmanes nodded, replacing the bandage. The skin all along his side had turned black as if from terrible frostbite.
    The Kinswoman frowned at him. She was a youthful-looking woman with golden hair, though with channelers, ages could be very
     deceptive. “I’m amazed you can still walk.”
    “I’m not certain it could be defined as walking,” Talmanes said, limping back toward the soldiers. He could still gimp along
     on his own, mostly, but the dizzy moments came more frequently now.
    Guybon was arguing with Dennel, who kept pointing at his map and gesturing. There was such a haze of smoke in the air that
     many of the men had tied kerchiefs to their faces. They looked like a band of bloody Aiel.
    “… even the Trollocs are pulling out of that quarter,” Guybon insisted. “There’s too much fire.”
    “The Trollocs are pulling back to the walls all through the city,” Dennel replied. “They’re going to let the city burn all
     night. The only sector not burning is the one where the Waygate is. They knocked down all of the buildings there to create
     a firewall.”
    “They used the One Power,” Jesamyn said from behind Talmanes. “I felt it. Black sisters. I would not suggest going in that
     direction.”
    Jesamyn was the only Kinswoman remaining; the other had fallen. Jesamyn wasn’t powerful enough to create a gateway, but neither
     was she useless. Talmanes had watched her burn six Trollocs that had broken through his line.
    He’d spent that skirmish sitting back, overcome by the pain. Fortunately, Jesamyn had given him some herbs to chew. They made
     his head feel fuzzier, but made the pain manageable. It felt as if his body were in a vise, being smashed slowly, but at least
     he could stay on his feet.
    “We take the quickest route,” Talmanes said. “The quarter that isn’t burning is too close to the dragons; I won’t risk the
     Shadowspawn discovering Aludra and her weapons.”
Assuming they haven’t already.
    Guybon glared at him, but this was the Band’s operation. Guybon was welcome, but he wasn’t part of their command structure.
    Talmanes’ force continued through the dark city, wary of ambushes. Though they knew the approximate location of the warehouse,
     getting there was problematic. Many large streets were blocked by wreckage, fire or the