There was only the blackness around her in every direction, except for the rectangle of the open Waygate, like a window of smoked glass when seen from this side. It let no light in — the black seemed to press right up against it — but through it Egwene could see the others, moving by the slowest increments, like figures in a nightmare. Nynaeve was insisting on handing around the polelanterns and lighting them; Liandrin was acceding with a bad grace, apparently insisting on speed.
When Nynaeve came though the Waygate — leading her gray mare slowly, ever so slowly — Egwene almost ran to hug her, and at least half of her feeling was for the lantern Nynaeve carried. The lantern made a smaller pool of light than it should have — the darkness pressed against the light, trying to force it back into the lantern — but Egwene had begun to feel that darkness pressing against her, as if it had weight. Instead, she contented herself with saying, “Bela's all right, and I did not break my neck the way I deserved to.”
Once there had been light along the Ways, before the taint on the Power with which they had first been made, the taint of the Dark One on saidin, had begun to corrupt them.
Nynaeve thrust the pole of the lantern into her hands and turned to pull another from under her saddle girth. “As long as you know you deserved to,” she murmured, “then you didn't deserve to.” Suddenly she chuckled. “Sometimes I think it was sayings like that more than anything else that created the title of Wisdom. Well, here's another. You break your neck, and I'll see it mended just so I can break it again.”
It was said lightly, and Egwene found herself laughing, too — until she recalled where she was. Nynaeve's amusement did not last long either.
Min and Elayne came though the Waygate hesitantly, leading their horses and carrying lanterns, obviously expecting to find monsters waiting at the least. They looked relieved, at first, to find nothing but darkness, but the oppressiveness of it soon had them shifting nervously from foot to foot. Liandrin replaced the Avendesora leaf and rode through the closing Waygate leading the packhorse.
Liandrin did not wait for the gate to finish closing, but tossed the lead line of the packhorse to Min without a word and started along a white line, dimly made out by the light of her lantern, leading into the Ways. The floor seemed to be stone, eaten and pitted by acid. Egwene scrambled hurriedly onto Bela's back, but she was no quicker to follow the Aes Sedai than anyone else. There seemed to be nothing in the world except the rough floor under the horses' hooves.
Straight as an arrow the white line led through the dark to a large stone slab covered with Ogier script inlaid in silver. The same pocking that marked the floor also broke the script in places.
“A Guiding,” Elayne murmured, twisting in her saddle to look around uneasily. “Elaida taught me a little about the Ways. She would not say much. Not enough,” she added glumly. “Or maybe too much.”
Calmly Liandrin compared the Guiding with a parchment, then stuffed it back into a pocket of her cloak before Egwene could get a look.
Their lanterns' light stopped abruptly rather than fading out at the edges, but it was enough for Egwene to see a thick stone balustrade, eaten away in places, as the Aes Sedai led them away from the Guiding. An Island, Elayne called it; the darkness made judging the Island's size difficult, but Egwene thought it might be a hundred paces across.
Stone bridges and ramps pierced the balustrade, each with a stone post beside it marked with a single line in Ogier script. The bridges seemed to arch out into nothing. The ramps led up or down. It was impossible to see more than the beginning of any of them, as they rode past.
Pausing only to eye the stone posts, Liandrin took a ramp that led down, and quickly there was nothing but the ramp and the darkness. A dampening silence hung over everything; Egwene had the feeling that even the clatter of the horses' hooves on the rough stone did not travel very far beyond the light.
Down and down the ramp ran, curving back on itself, until it reached another Island, with its broken balustrade between bridges and ramps, its Guiding that Liandrin compared with her parchment. The Island seemed like solid stone, just as the first one had. Egwene wished she was not sure that the first Island was directly over their heads.
Nynaeve spoke up suddenly, voicing Egwene's thoughts. Her voice sounded steady, but she paused to swallow in the middle of it.
“It — it might be,” Elayne said faintly. Her eyes rolled upwards, and quickly dropped again. “Elaida says the rules of nature do not hold in the Ways. At least, not the way they do outside.”
“Light!” Min muttered, then raised her voice. “How long do you mean us to stay in here?”
The Aes Sedai's honeycolored braids swung as she turned to regard them. “Until I take you out,” she said flatly. “The more you bother me, the longer that will be.” She bent back to studying the parchment and the Guiding.
Egwene and the others fell silent.
Liandrin pushed on from Guiding to Guiding, by ramps and bridges that seemed to run unsupported through the endless dark. The Aes Sedai paid very little heed to the rest of them, and Egwene found herself wondering whether Liandrin would turn back to search if one of them fell behind. The others perhaps had the same thought, for they all rode bunched tightly on the dark mare's heels.
Egwene was surprised to realize that she still felt the attraction of saidar, both the presence of the female half of the True Source and the desire to touch it, to channel its flow. Somehow, she had thought the Shadow's taint on the Ways would hide it from her. She could sense that taint, after a fashion. It was faint and had nothing to do with saidar, but she was sure that reaching for the True Source here would be like baring her arm to foul, greasy smoke in order to reach a clean cup. Whatever she did would be tainted. For the first time in weeks she had no trouble at all in resisting the attraction of saidar.
It was well into what would have been night in the world outside the Ways when, on an Island, Liandrin abruptly dismounted and announced that they would halt for supper and sleep, and that there was food on the packhorse.
“Parcel it out,” she said, not bothering to assign the task. “It will take us the better part of two days to reach Toman Head. I would not have you arrive hungry if you were too foolish to bring food yourselves.” Briskly she unsaddled and hobbled her mare, but then she sat down on her saddle and waited for one of them to b
