WINTERвS HEART
The seals that hold back the night shall weaken,
And in the heart of winter shall winterвs heart be born
Amid the wailing of lamentation and the gnashing of teeth,
For winterвs heart shall ride a black horse,
And the name of it is Death.
--from The Karaethon Cycle:
The Prophecies of the Dragon
Prologue: Snow
Three lanterns cast a flickering light, more than enough to
illuminate the small room with its stark white walls and
ceiling, but Seaine kept her eyes fixed on the heavy wooden
door. Illogical, she knew; foolish in a Sitter for the White.
The weave of saidar she had pushed around the jamb brought her
occasional whispers of distant footsteps in the warren of
hallways outside, whispers that faded away almost as soon as
heard. A simple thing learned from a friend in her long-ago
novice days, but she would have warning long before anyone
came near. Few people came down as deep as the second
basement, anyway.
Her weave picked up the far-off chittering of rats. Light!
How long since there had been rats in Tar Valon, in the Tower
itself? Were any of them spies for the Dark One? She wet her
lips uneasily. Logic counted for nothing in this. True. If
illogical. She wanted to laugh. With an effort she crept back
from the brink of hysteria. Think of something besides rats.
Something besides...A muffled squeal rose in the room behind
her, faltered into muted whimpering. She tried to stop up her
ears. Concentrate!
In a way, she and her companions had been led to this room
because the heads of the Ajahs seemed to be meeting in secret.
She herself had glimpsed Ferane Neheran whispering in a
secluded nook of the library with Jesse Bilal, who stood very
high among the Browns if not at the very top. She thought she
stood on firmer ground with Suana Dragand, of the Yellows.
She thought so. But why had Ferane gone walking with Suana in
a secluded part of the Tower grounds, both swathed in plain
cloaks? Sitters of different Ajahs still talked to one
another openly, if coldly. The others had seem similar
things; they would not give names from their own Ajahs, of
course, but two had mentioned Ferane. A troubling puzzle.
The Tower was a seething swamp these days, every Ajah at every
other Ajah's throat, yet the heads met in corners. NO one
