Crossroads of Twilight: Chapter 20

From Tar Valon Library
Revision as of 02:14, 4 April 2019 by Ilverin Matriam (talk | contribs)
(diff) ← Older revision | Latest revision (diff) | Newer revision → (diff)
Jump to: navigation, search

<< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter>>
Author: Kyria d'Oreyn

Dream Ter'angreal Chapter Icon.png


In the Night


Chapter Icon: Dream Ter'angreal

Point of View: Egwene

Setting: Egwene's tent

Characters: Egwene, Chesa, Nisao

Outline

Egwene has some true dreams regarding the future. In the morning she finds out Anaiya and her Warder were killed with saidin. Egwene orders Nisao to find out why.

Summary

By the time the Hall ends their session, night shrouds the camp. Surprisingly to her, Egwene's headaches are gone.

When she goes to sleep, she tells Elayne in her dream that she wants to talk to her in Tel'aran'rhiod. Instead of her, Aviendha appears, because Elayne's pregnancy hinders her channeling. They discuss current matters and part again.

Egwene then Dreams of Mat bowling. Each pin represents a thousand men that Mat kills. She Dreams of herself hanging from a cliff and a Seanchan woman offering help, and of a small white plinth with an oil-lamp of clear glass on top which two ravens set wavering, the White Tower being attacked by the Seanchan.

The next morning Nisao comes in and reports that Anaiya and her Warder Setagana have been found dead. They have been killed with saidin. Egwene orders her to find out why they were out in the night and why they were killed.

Notes

This section contains Notes on this Chapter which may contain spoilers. Please expand to view.

Visions and Prophecies

Egwene's Dreams
  • "Mat stood on a village green, playing at bowls. The thatch-roofed houses were vague, in the manner of dreams-sometimes the roofs were slate; sometimes the houses seemed of stone, sometimes wood-but he was sharp and clear, dressed in a fine green coat and that wide-brimmed black hat, just as he had been the day he rode into Salidar. There was not another human being in sight. Rubbing the ball between his hands, he took a short run and casually rolled it across the smooth grass. All nine pins fell, scattered as if they had been kicked. Mat turned and picked up another ball, and the pins were back upright. No, there was a fresh set of pins. The old still lay where they had fallen. He hurled the ball again, a lazy underhanded bowl. And Egwene wanted to scream. The pins were not turned pieces of wood. They were men, standing there watching the ball roll toward them. None moved until the ball sent them flying. Mat turned to pick up another ball, and there were more new pins, new men, standing in orderly formation among the men lying sprawled on the ground as if dead. No, they were dead. Unconcerned, Mat bowled. It was a true dream; she knew that long before it faded. A glimpse of a future that might come to pass, a warning of what should be watched for. True dreams were always possibilities, not certainties-she often had to remind herself of that; Dreaming was not Foretelling-but this was a dire possibility. Every one of those human pins had represented thousands of men. Of that she was certain. And an Illuminator was part of it.
  • She was struggling up a narrow, rocky path along the face of a towering cliff. Clouds surrounded her, hiding the ground below and the crest above, yet she knew that both were very far away. She had to place her feet very carefully. The path was a cracked ledge barely wide enough for her to stand on with one shoulder pressed against the cliff, a ledge littered with stones as large as her fist that could turn under a misplaced step and send her hurtling over the edge. It almost seemed this was like the dreams of pushing millstones and pulling carts, yet she knew it was a true dream. Abruptly, the ledge dropped away from under her with the crack of crumbling stone, and she caught frantically at the cliff, fingers scrabbling to find a hold. Her fingertips slid into a tiny crevice, and her fall stopped with a jolt that wrenched her arms. Feet dangling into the clouds, she listened to the falling stone crash against the cliff until the sound faded to nothing without the stone ever hitting the ground. Dimly, she could see the broken ledge to her left. Ten feet away, it might as well have been a mile off for all the chance she had of reaching it. In the other direction, the mists hid whatever remained of the path, but she thought it had to be farther away still. There was no strength in her arms. She could not pull herself up, only hang there by her fingertips until she fell. The edge of the crevice seemed as sharp as a knife under fingers. Suddenly a woman appeared, clambering down the sheer side of the cliff out of the clouds, making her way as deftly as if she were walking down stairs. There was a sword strapped to her back. Her face wavered, never settling clearly, but the sword seemed as solid as the stone. The woman reached Egwene's level and held out one hand. "We can reach the top together," she said in a familiar drawling accent. Egwene pushed the dream away as she would have a viper. She felt her body thrash, heard herself groan in her sleep, but for the moment she could do nothing. She had dreamed of the Seanchan before, of a Seanchan woman somehow tied to her, but this was a Seanchan who would *save* her.

The same one she saw with her when Rand will confront her?

  • She was climbing another path along a cliff shrouded in clouds, but this was a broad ledge of smoothly paved white stone, and there were no rocks underfoot. The cliff itself was chalky white and as smooth as if polished. Despite the clouds, the pale stone almost gleamed. She climbed quickly and soon realized that the ledge was spiraling around. The cliff was actually a spire. No sooner did that thought occur than she was standing on top of it, a flat polished disc walled by mist. Not quite flat, though. A small white plinth stood centered in that circle, supporting an oil-lamp made of clear glass. The flame on the lamp burned bright and steady without flickering. It was white, too. Suddenly a pair of birds flashed out of the mist, two ravens black as night. Streaking across the spire-top, they struck the lamp and flew on without so much as a pause. The lamp spun and wobbled, dancing around atop the plinth, flinging off droplets of oil. Some of those drops caught fire in midair and vanished. Others fell around the short column, each supporting a tiny, flickering white flame. And the lamp continued to wobble on the edge of falling.

This is a Seanchan attack on the Tower. The same event she previously saw with a long line of Aes Sedai being collared?


<< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>