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Liandrin groaned one last time as the afterbirth passed. It had been an uncomplicated labor, for all Blodwyn had fretted about her being too young. What did the old woman know of it anyway? Liandrin was 14, nearly 15, and had been married for almost three years. Blodwyn herself hadn't been that much older when she started bearing their husband children, nor had most of the others.
Already her son was clean and dry, and her husband prepared to anoint the boy's forehead in blood, dedicating him to the Shadow until he was old enough to swear his own oaths. She wanted to snatch him away, to enjoy a few moments where her child belonged to her, and her alone, but she quelled the impulse. As soon as he was weaned, she would swear her own oaths, as an adult, and undertake the mission the Great Lord of the Dark himself had chosen her for, and he would be given to another to raise. Better not to get attached.
He was nearly done with the recitation, and reaching for the bowl of blood when a cry went up outside the house. A Whitecloak raid? Here? Now?
Her husband thrust the child, still unmarked, into her arms. She was so startled she nearly dropped him, although she had hoped for this very thing not a minute before.
"Get into the cellar," he said. "Wait there until I come for you. Do you understand?"
"I understand," she said. She did understand , she just had no intention of obeying. This might be the only chance she ever had to escape.
As soon as he strode out, to organize the defense of the village, she supposed, she peeled off a bedsheet that was not too badly bloodstained, tore it down the middle, and fashioned a rough sling, securing the baby on her chest. It was awkward, getting out the window, but she managed, only stumbling a little on the dewy grass outside. The house stood between her and her husband, between her and most of the commotion. If she ran, she could be well away before anyone noticed her missing.
She was just past the edge of the village proper when a young man in a white cloak embroidered with a golden sunburst stepped from behind a tree. He looked almost as surprised to see her as she was to see him, though he held his sword steadily enough.
"Oh, thank, thank you!" She said breathlessly. She had intended to say 'thank the Light', but at the last instant could not bring herself to such blasphemy. "The people here, they wouldn't let me leave. My son, they meant to put blood on him, to dedicate him to the dark! Please, you must help me escape." She willed him to believe it, to help her, or at least get out of her way. She hoped it would help that nothing she told him was actually a lie, just a very careful application of the truth.
Unaccountably, he looked disoriented, for a moment, but when he recovered himself, he was considerably more relaxed. "Of course, good mistress. The Light shine on you." And he stepped aside.
Trying not to show her distaste for his "blessing", Liandrin ran on.
Aludran whimpered in his sling. They had been walking since an hour before dawn, stopping only briefly to nurse him, and change the torn off pieces of bedsheet she used for his diapers. It was dark again, and she hadn't made enough distance to feel safe. Her husband owned a horse - he could still catch her up, would likely do so by morning, if she didn't find somewhere to hide. If he caught her now… she shivered. He'd waved off suggestions that if she bore a son, they should kill the child at once in case he inherited her gifts, saying they could always kill the boy later if it became a problem, but she doubted he would be so indulgent now.
"What is it, my beautiful boy?" she asked. "Are you hungry again?"
They couldn't afford to stop again, and she was so tired. The hills of the nameless land surrounding Tar Valon made distance harder to judge, but if she could just make it to the city, perhaps she could lose herself there. Another day or two? Could she keep walking that long?
She was so exhausted, so caught up in her own thoughts that she didn't see the semicircle of tall statues until she nearly walked into one of them. When she did, her heart leapt. There was a place very like this hidden in the woods near her village - a temple to the Foresaken. This one was in dreadful disrepair, though. Dutifully, almost automatically, she pulled vines off the statues, worked moss out of crevices with a stick as high as she could reach, swept as well as she was able with only a twiggy branch she'd found on the ground. She had nothing with which to make an offering, but hoped that tending the place would suffice.
She stopped in front of the central statue, looking up at its carved face. "Ishamael," she said. "Father of Lies, please cloud the sight of the people who pursue us."
Then she knelt at the center, Aludran bundled up on her lap, and began the difficult part.
"Great Lord of the Dark," she began, feeling unaccountably awkward. "Help me, guide me. Give me a way to protect my son. Keep him safe, and I will serve you faithfully for all of my days… which may be very many, since I can channel," she added. It was the simplest kind of prayer, something a fresh apostate from the Light might offer in a moment of despair, hardly suited to a woman raised in the shadow from infancy, but it was the best she could do at the moment.
She waited for a sign, then. A light in the sky, a voice in her ear, a sudden intuition, even a visitation from a Fetch, something that told her which way to go, what place was safe, what the Great Lord wanted her to do. Nothing happened. She waited. After a quarter of an hour, she knew nothing was going to happen, but she remained vigilant anyway, until exhaustion finally overcame her, and she slept.
She dreamed. She was still in that temple, but it was clean, intact. In the waking world, it was nearly midnight, but here the last moments of sunset still stretched the shadows under a darkening sky.
A man stood at the base of the Ishamael statue. He was dressed oddly, in a black coat, open at the front to reveal a crisp white shirt - neither the cut nor the material were familiar to her.
"Hello, Liandrin," he said.
“Where is Aludran?” He had been on her lap when she fell asleep.
“Safe in his body in the waking world,” said the man.
“How did you know my name?”
"I've known you since you were a little girl. I know your dreams. I know you would do anything to protect that little boy. I also know you want more from life. You want power. You want revenge. You want to make sure that no one can ever hurt you again.”
“Great Lord,” she said, and prostrated herself on the stones. “Great Lord, forgive me, I did not recognize you.”
“Get up, you don't need to do that. This isn't a test, Liandrin. I came here to make you an offer. The Shadow has a very special job for you; your village headman wasn't lying about that. Oh, he lied about a few other things. For example, even in this barbaric Age, little girls aren't usually forced to marry grown men.” He made a face. “I can keep your son safe. I can make you powerful.”
“What must I do, Great Lord?”
“There's a family in Tar Valon, loyal to me. Leave Aludran with them.”
She wanted to flatly refuse, foreswear the dark, take her son, and run somewhere he could never find her. She wanted to do whatever it took to please him. She wanted the power and safety he offered.
He seemed to understand something of her thoughts. Of course he did. He was the Dark One. “I'm sorry, you can't go to the White Tower with a child, they're terribly strict about it. If you're careful and clever, you’ll be able to visit him.”
“I am to go to the White Tower?”
“We have other people there, but they fight amongst themselves, vying for power within their little organization. I need someone loyal only to me. And with your abilities, Liandrin, you could accomplish remarkable things.”
Everyone who had ever told Liandrin she was special had wanted something. Of course, so did the Dark One. But hearing it from him made her feel warmer, stronger all the same. For the first time since she realized who he was, she lifted her head, meeting his eyes. The Dark One, or the man he appeared as, looked…kind. Kind, and very, very sad. He took a few steps forward, and bent slightly to gently cup her cheek.
“Great Lord,” she said, “I am yours to command.”