#changu

This chapter starts us out with a new icon: the ruby dagger. It typically symbolizes bullshit related to it, Shadar Logoth, or Padan Fain. In this case, it's mostly about Fain, but the dagger shows up too and gets infodumped for those of us who for some reason picked up book two without touching book one.

“Peace favor you, Rand al’Thor.” Ragan almost shouted to be heard over the bells. “Do you intend to go hit rabbits over the head, or do you still insist that club is a bow?”

Please someone draw Rand braining rabbits with his bow. Come on. You know you want to.

Rand recognized him, now, with his deep-set, almost-black eyes that never seemed to blink. They peered from his helmet like twin caves inside another cave. He supposed there could be worse luck for him than Masema guarding the gate, but he was not sure how, short of a Red Aes Sedai.

Oh dear. Masema is an interesting guy in that he continually threatens to be plot relevant and yet never quite hops that threshold because even at his most terrifying he is way behind the level curve. I'm really not sure what to make of him, though I'll give it a try as I reread this time around. For right now, it's worth noting that he starts somewhat unpleasant.

Ragan was an easygoing man, his manner belying his grim scar, and he seemed to like Rand. But Masema was already shaking his head. Ragan sighed. “It cannot be, Rand al’Thor.” He gave a tiny nod toward Masema as if to explain. If it were up to him alone. . . .

It's a real shame that the Wheel never got a Shaidar Haran / Nakomi avatar who could just laugh at how much it got to consistently punk Rand with the tiniest little details.

Perhaps he could find a length of rope. . . . He climbed one of the stairs to the top of the outer wall, to the wide parapet with its crenellated walls. ... He looked up at the nearest guardtower; one of the soldiers raised a gauntleted hand to him. With a bitter laugh, he waved back. Not a foot of the wall but was under the eyes of guards.

Rand: I'm sure that fortresses are built so that it's easy to rappel your way out of them! No one will even notice!

It sure is a shame he didn't have a mentor to teach him about warfare and defense, since both of these subjects will be very important to him going forward.

Gentled. Would it be so bad, to have it all over? Really over? He closed his eyes, but he could still see himself, huddling like a rabbit with nowhere left to run, and Aes Sedai closing round him like ravens. They almost always die soon after, men who’ve been gentled. They stop wanting to live. He remembered Thom Merrilin’s words too well to face that. With a brisk shake, he hurried on down the hall. No need to stay in one place until he was found. How long till they find you anyway? You’re like a sheep in a pen. How long? He touched the sword hilt at his side. No, not a sheep. Not for Aes Sedai or anybody else.

Rand's almost pathological strength of will is a great characteristic. He's completely out of any tenable options and he still refuses to play Moiraine's very fucked up game.

The armorer’s forge, with all the fires banked, the anvils silent. Silent. Cold. Lifeless. Yet somehow not empty. His skin prickled, and he spun on his heel. No one there... Angrily he stared around the big room. There’s nobody there. It’s just my imagination. That wind, and the Amyrlin; that’s enough to make me imagine things.

Is it this? Is Rand picking up on Fain's staring at him from his prison? Is he getting some paranoia from channeling the taint? All of the above?

Loial was watching them dice, rubbing his chin thoughtfully with a finger thicker than a big man’s thumb, his head almost reaching the rafters nearly two spans up. None of the dicers gave him a glance. Ogier were not exactly common in the Borderlands, or anywhere else, but they were known and accepted here, and Loial had been in Fal Dara long enough to excite little comment.

Loial! Mat's teaching him how to be a thriftless layabout! I'm so proud of them. Loial deserved more opportunities to be chilling while people did absolutely banal crap that he could still find fascinating.

That was something I had not seen before. Two things. The Shienaran Welcome, and the Amyrlin Seat. She looks tired, don’t you think?

Wow, Loial way to play into sexist narratives. You don't say this about Agelmar and that bro has had a lot more on his plate the past couple months and he's like a million times older.

Rand opened his eyes to see his friends straightening up out of the knot of dicers. Mat Cauthon, long-limbed as a stork, wearing a half smile as if he saw something funny that no one else saw. Shaggy-haired Perrin Aybara, with heavy shoulders and thick arms from his work as a blacksmith’s apprentice. They both still wore their Two Rivers garb, plain and sturdy, but travel-worn.

It's so rare having all three of these boys in the same room that I'm just happy it's happening at all.

“You’re as white as your shirt. Hey! Where did you get those clothes? You turning Shienaran? Maybe I’ll buy myself a coat like that, and a fine shirt.” He shook his coat pocket, producing a clink of coins. “I seem to have luck with the dice. I can hardly touch them without winning.”

Again, if Moiraine had wanted to fuck with people's clothing, Mat would have been all for it once she got him into a shop. And also note that despite a lot of misconceptions about this, Mat's been unusually lucky his whole life. It's just something about him that isn't even related to his being ta'veren. He only gets inexplicably lucky in book 3 though.

Perrin’s eyes lifted. Yellow eyes, gleaming in the dim light like burnished gold. Moiraine hasn’t hurt us? Rand thought. Perrin’s eyes had been as deep a brown as Mat’s when they left the Two Rivers. Rand had no idea how the change had come about—Perrin did not want to talk about it, or about very much of anything since it happened—but it had come at the same time as the slump in his shoulders, and a distance in his manner as if he felt alone even with friends around him. Perrin’s eyes and Mat’s dagger. Neither would have happened if they had not left Emond’s Field, and it was Moiraine who had taken them away.

That's some bullshit, Rand. Perrin almost certainly would have ended up a werewolf no matter what happened because the wolves were coming down from the mountains and while you can't know that, you can very much know that Mat disobeyed Moiraine. If he hadn't had sticky fingers and wanderlust, he never would have been cursed. You have so much bullshit to blame Moiraine for legitimately that this is just silly.

He knew that was not fair.

How dare you undercut my chewing you out in the very next sentence?

“Walls don’t stop a Fade,” Mat muttered. “Not when it wants to come in. I don’t know as laws and lamps will do any better.” He did not sound like someone who had half thought Fades were only gleemen’s tales less than half a year before. He had seen too much, too.

Mat's... sadly correct. There's no plausible way to stop a Fade from showing up in your house if it wants to be there unless you have the ability to light up every single surface and get rid of every shadow. The only reason that the Shadow hasn't just outright slaughtered humanity is that it's not actually in their interest to do so. And really, for all the shit people give pre-book 3 Mat, he's been a completely good friend and voice of reason in this seen.

“Easy, Rand,” Perrin said softly. “There is no need to be so rough.”

And meanwhile, Perrin isn't saying much, but he's playing peacemaker. It fits where Jordan seemed to be going with him.

“Isn’t there? Maybe I don’t want you two going with me, always hanging around, falling into trouble and expecting me to pull you out. You ever think of that? Burn me, did it ever occur to you I might be tired of always having you there whenever I turn around? Always there, and I’m tired of it.” The hurt on Perrin’s face cut him like a knife, but he pushed on relentlessly. “There are some here think I’m a lord. A lord. Maybe I like that. But look at you, dicing with stablehands. When I go, I go by myself. You two can go to Tar Valon or go hang yourselves, but I leave here alone.” Mat’s face had gone stiff, and he clutched the dagger through his coat till his knuckles were white. “If that is how you want it,” he said coldly. “I thought we were. . . . However you want it, al’Thor. But if I decide to leave at the same time you do, I’ll go, and you can stand clear of me.” “Nobody is going anywhere,” Perrin said, “if the gates are barred.” He was staring at the floor again.

And now Rand's being a dick. Mat and Perrin were nothing but supportive and concerned and he pushes them away because he has to be alone. I am begging writers to stop using this trope, it's annoying and forced drama and Mat and Perrin deserved better.

“I am not staying here,” Mat told the rafters, “with a bigmouthed Ogier and a fool whose head is too big for a hat. You coming, Perrin?” Perrin sighed, and glanced at Rand, then nodded.

And now Rand's shittiness is infectious and making Mat be rude to Loial, but it only gets worse with...

Rand made his voice harsh. “What are you waiting for? Go on with them! I don’t see why you’re still here. You are no use to me if you don’t know a way out. Go on! Go find your trees, and your precious groves, if they haven’t all been cut down, and good riddance to them if they have.” Loial’s eyes, as big as cups, looked surprised and hurt, at first, but slowly they tightened into what almost might be anger.

Loial is not your emotional dumping ground, boys. Y'all are only picking on him because he's soft and kind and you don't wanna fuck with a target that can fuck you up in kind.

Well, a voice in his head taunted, you did it, didn’t you. I had to, he told it. I will be dangerous just to be around. Blood and ashes, I’m going to go mad, and. . . . No! No, I won’t! I will not use the Power, and then I won’t go mad, and. . . . But I can’t risk it. I can’t, don’t you see? But the voice only laughed at him.

And we can see Rand's maladaptive coping mechanisms, with the very first hint of his shoving the parts of himself he's not comfortable with (in this case, the love he feels for his friends and his ability to channel at all) outside of his "self" and creating an emotionally unstable alter ego that he tries (and fails) to wrangle validation out of.

She jumped when he popped out right in front of her, and her breath caught loudly, but what she said was, “So there you are. Mat and Perrin told me what you did. And Loial. I know what you’re trying to do, Rand, and it is plain foolish.”

Egwene is 110% done with Rand's shit. Lan's idea that he could somehow wrangle her into abandoning Tar Valon is some hilarious projection.

Her hair suddenly made him angry. He had never seen a grown woman with her hair unbraided until he left the Two Rivers. There, every girl waited eagerly for the Women’s Circle of her village to say she was old enough to braid her hair. Egwene certainly had. And here she was with her hair loose except for a ribbon. I want to go home and can’t, and she can’t wait to forget Emond’s Field.

Rand, who wants "to go home and can't": Never makes any effort to establish communications with his father figure until it comes time to try and murder him.

Egwene, who "can't wait to forget Emond's Field": Regularly sends letters home throughout the series because that's where her family lives.

He turned to walk away, and with a cry she threw herself at him, flung her arms around his legs. They both tumbled to the stone floor, his saddlebags and bundles flying. He grunted when he hit, sword hilt digging into his side, and again when she scrabbled up and plopped herself down on his back as if he were a chair.

Foreshadowing for Merrilor, Rand's wounds, and her future occupation, all in half a paragraph.

“Men! When you cannot win an argument, you either run away or resort to force.” “Hold on there! Who tripped who? Who sat on who? And you threatened—tried!—to—”

Nynaeve ain't the only lady in these books who is hilariously hypocritical in her sexism.

Finally he told her what Lan had said. “What else could he mean?” Her hand froze on her arm, and she frowned with concentration. “Moiraine knows about you, and she hasn’t done anything, so why should she now? But if Lan. . . .” Still frowning, she met his eyes.

Heck, this is basically bookends with Merrilor: Rand and Egwene are having a stupid fight about bullshit where they're both right, and one half of the Moiraine/Lan duo ends up being how they come to hold common ground. And shit like this is why communication has to be so rare in this series, as soon as Rand tries it he starts getting results instead of ten thousand headaches and knife wounds.

“Rand, he has brought his wagon into the Two Rivers every spring since before I was born. He knows all the people I know, all the places. It’s strange, but the longer he has been locked up, the easier in himself he has become. It’s almost as if he is breaking free of the Dark One. He laughs again, and tells funny stories, about Emond’s Field folk, and sometimes about places I never heard of before. Sometimes he is almost like his old self. I just like to talk to somebody about home.”

If Fain hadn't sidestepped his fate, would Egwene's kindness here have gotten him back onto the path of the Light? But also... well, see below.

“Moiraine has said it’s safe? Egwene?” “Moiraine Sedai has never told me I could not visit Master Fain,” she said carefully.

Not even a Novice yet and already all over them three oaths. Also I love every aspect of their fight in this page and would quote it all if I had anything intelligent to say on the subject.

The man studied Rand, his upper lip quivering back to bare teeth. Rand did not think it was supposed to be a smile. “Well,” Changu said finally. “Well. Tall, aren’t you? Tall. And fancy dressed for your kind. Somebody catch you young in the Eastern Marches and tame you?”

Let's all relish the fact that this racist Darkfriend is going to be skinned alive in seven chapters, shall we?

“He’s waiting for you.” He thrust the lamp at Egwene, and undid the inner door almost eagerly. “Waiting for you. In there, in the dark.”

If this were in a horror movie, the line would be too corny.

“They know me better than that,” she said, but she sounded troubled, and she added, “They seem worse every time I come. All the guards do. Meaner, and more sullen. Changu told jokes the first time I came, and Nidao never even speaks anymore. But I suppose working in a place like this can’t give a man a light heart. Maybe it is just me. This place does not do my heart any good, either.”

Remember when I said "see below"? People, especially Egwene haters, talk about how since Fain corrupted the guards, Masema, Elaida, Niall, and Riatin, he should have corrupted her too. And yet Egwene doesn't seem to be anywhere near as fucked up as all of those people ended up being - she's stubborn, but in a Two Rivers sense, and arrogant, but not to the point of it being a fatal flaw. Rand doesn't talk about her eyes being messed up like he did with Masema. I think she managed to sidestep the effects precisely because she kept Fain out of Gollum mode and made him behave like a normal human.

Looking straight at Rand, hidden in the blackness behind the light, he pointed a long finger at him. “I feel you there, hiding, Rand al’Thor,” he said, almost crooning. “You can’t hide, not from me, and not from them. You thought it was over, did you not? But the battle’s never done, al’Thor. They are coming for me, and they’re coming for you, and the war goes on. Whether you live or die, it’s never over for you. Never.”

Is Fain channeling Ish's usual nihilistic shtick because his current metaphysical status is equally depressing, or did it just end up being shoved into him when Ish made him the Hound?

“Soon comes the day all shall be free. Even you, and even me. Soon comes the day all shall die. Surely you, but never I.”

Sometimes it feels like every villain in this series is convinced that they're some kind of metaphysical constant. Fain buddy, you're literally going to become more and more irrelevant to the point that your death is an afterthought in someone else's plot line. You won't even leave behind some kind of evil legacy through which it could be said you're surviving. You represent nothing because two separate authors couldn't figure out what to do with you.

“This was not a good idea, Rand.”

Haters take note of the fact that when Egwene fucks up she can just admit it and move onto plan B. Not her fault that Fain is super extra crazy today.

In the darkness, Fain laughed. “It’s never over, al’Thor. Never.”

Also, I just want to note: While obviously time being cyclical means that sure, nothing's ever really over, you might as well argue that it never really starts either. The Last Battle is coming and when it's done, it's done. Rand spends two years in shittiness and decades if not centuries doing whatever the fuck he pleases, and it's very unlikely that his next incarnation will be dealing with anything so extremely miserable - nor is it likely he'll have to recall all of his past lives like Rand did, so he won't even be aware of it all. The villains who insist at looking at the apparent big picture only make themselves crazy because they never get to see the whole of it.