The eye of the world

“The Eye of the World is the best of its genre.” —The Ottawa Citizen “A splendid tale of heroic fantasy, vast in scope, colorful in detail, and convincing in its presentation of human character and personality.” —L Sprague De Camp “This richly detailed fantasy presents fully realized, complex adventure Recommended.” —Library Journal “This one is as solid as a steel blade and glowing with the true magic Robert Jordan deserves congratulations.” —Fred Saberhagen “One hell of a story [It] kept me up past my bedtime for three nights running—and it’s been a long time since a novel’s done that.” —Baird Searles, Isaac Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine “A future collector’s item Jordan has brought out a completely new allegory in a fantasy concept that goes even beyond this massive story, working with an artist’s eye and the sense of responsibility of a serious historian.” —Gordon R Dickson “Classic oppositions are brought into play: initiates versus innocents, good versus evil, the spiritual power of women versus that of men The travelers themselves are full of subtleties and shadows—ordinary villagers who, thrust into cosmic conflict, are unable to abandon their simple human desires and fears “This intricate allegorical fantasy recalls the works of Tolkien because of its intensity and warmth.” —Publishers Weekly “Robert Jordan has come to dominate the world Tolkien began to reveal.” —The New York Times “This has magic and pacing and detail and human involvement, with a certain subtlety of presentation and a grand central vision Robert Jordan is a lot of writer!” —Piers Anthony “An exciting story; the reader is drawn in early and kept there until the last page There is adventure and mystery and dark things that move in the night—a combination of Robin Hood and Stephen King that is hard to resist Jordan makes the reader care about these characters as though they were old friends; so much so that the reader will put down the book regretting the wait for the next title in the series.” —Milwaukee Sentinel “A classic fantasy tale of the struggle between light and darkness, good and evil, death and life Goodness, life, and light are always in retreat, always about to be defeated, but never quite! Don’t miss it!” —Andrew M Greeley “Certainly a title I want to add to my permanent collection and I shall be eagerly awaiting the sequel which is promised at the end.” —Andre Norton THE EYE OF THE WORLD ROBERT JORDAN A TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES BOOKNEW YORK This is a work of fiction All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously THE EYE OF THE WORLD Copyright © 1990 by The Bandersnatch Group, Inc The phrases "The Wheel of Time®” and “The Dragon Reborn™,” and the snake-wheel symbol, are trademarks of Robert Jordan All rights reserved Frontispiece by David Grove Maps by Ellisa Mitchell and Thomas Canty Interior illustrations by Matthew C Nielsen A Tor Book Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC 175 Fifth Avenue New York, NY 10010 www.tor-forge.com Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC ISBN 978-1-4299-5981-0 First Edition: February 1990 First E-book Edition: October 2009 Manufactured in the United States of America To Harriet Heart of my heart, Light of my life, Forever CONTENTS PROLOGUE Dragonmount MAPS An Empty Road Strangers The Peddler The Gleeman Winternight The Westwood Out of the Woods A Place of Safety Tellings of the Wheel 10 Leavetaking 11 The Road to Taren Ferry 12 Across the Taren 13 Choices 14 The Stag and Lion 15 Strangers and Friends 16 The Wisdom 17 Watchers and Hunters 18 The Caemlyn Road 19 Shadow’s Waiting 20 Dust on the Wind 21 Listen to the Wind 22 A Path Chosen 23 Wolfbrother 24 Flight Down the Arinelle 25 The Traveling People 26 Whitebridge 27 Shelter From the Storm 28 Footprints in Air 29 Eyes Without Pity 30 Children of Shadow 31 Play for Your Supper 32 Four Kings in Shadow 33 The Dark Waits 34 The Last Village 35 Caemlyn 36 Web of the Pattern 37 The Long Chase 38 Rescue 39 Weaving of the Web 40 The Web Tightens 41 Old Friends and New Threats 42 Remembrance of Dreams 43 Decisions and Apparitions 44 The Dark Along the Ways 45 What Follows in Shadow 46 Fal Dara 47 More Tales of the Wheel 48 The Blight 49 The Dark One Stirs 50 Meetings at the Eye 51 Against the Shadow 52 There Is Neither Beginning Nor End 53 The Wheel Turns GLOSSARY PROLOGUE Dragonmount The palace still shook occasionally as the earth rumbled in memory, groaned as if it would deny what had happened Bars of sunlight cast through rents in the walls made motes of dust glitter where they yet in the air Scorch-marks marred the walls, the floors, the ceilings Broad black smears crossed the blistered paints and gilt of once-bright murals, soot overlaying crumbling friezes of men and animals which seemed to have attempted to walk before the madness grew quiet The dead lay everywhere, men and women and children, struck down in attempted flight by the lightnings that had flashed down every corridor, or seized by the fires that had stalked them, or sunken into stone of the palace, the stones that had flowed and sought, almost alive, before stillness came again In odd counterpoint, colorful tapestries and paintings, masterworks all, undisturbed except where bulging walls had pushed them awry Finely carved furnishings, inlaid with ivory and gold, stood untouched except where rippling floors had toppled them The mind-twisting had struck at the core, ignoring peripheral things Lews Therin Telamon wandered the palace, deftly keeping his balance when the earth heaved “Ilyena! My love, where are you?” The edge of his pale gray cloak trailed through blood as he stepped across the body of a woman, her golden-haired beauty marred by the horror of her last moments, her still-open eyes frozen in disbelief “Where are you, my wife? Where is everyone hiding?” His eyes caught his own reflection in a mirror hanging askew from bubbled marble His clothes had been regal once, in gray and scarlet and gold; now the finely-woven cloth, brought by merchants from across the World Sea, was torn and dirty, thick with the same dust that covered his hair and skin For a moment he fingered the symbol on his cloak, a circle half white and half black, the colors separated by a sinuous line It meant something, that symbol But the embroidered circle could not hold his attention long He gazed at his own image with as much wonder A tall man just into his middle years, handsome once, but now with hair already more white than brown and a face lined by strain and worry, dark eyes that had seen too much Lews Therin began to chuckle, then threw back his head; his laughter echoed down the lifeless halls “Ilyena, my love! Come to me, my wife You must see this.” Behind him the air rippled, shimmered, solidified into a man who looked around, his mouth twisting briefly with distaste Not so tall as Lews Therin, he was clothed all in black, save for the snow-white lace at his throat and the silverwork on the turned-down tops of his thigh-high boots He stepped carefully, handling his cloak fastidiously to avoid brushing the dead The floor trembled with aftershocks, but his attention was fixed on the man staring into the mirror and laughing “Lord of the Morning,” he said, “I have come for you.” The laughter cut off as if it had never been, and Lews Therin turned, seeming unsurprised “Ah, a guest Have you the Voice, stranger? It will soon be time for the Singing, and here all are welcome to take part Ilyena, my love, we have a guest Ilyena, where are you?” The black-clad man’s eyes widened, darted to the body of the goldenhaired woman, then back to Lews Therin “Shai’tan take you, does the taint already have you so far in its grip?” “That name Shai—” Lews Therin shuddered and raised a hand as though to ward off something “You mustn’t say that name It is dangerous.” “So you remember that much, at least Dangerous for you, fool, not for me What else you remember? Remember, you Light-blinded idiot! I will not let it end with you swaddled in unawareness! Remember!” For a moment Lews Therin stared at his raised hand, fascinated by the patterns of grime Then he wiped his hand on his even dirtier coat and turned his attention back to the other man “Who are you? What you want?” The black-clad man drew himself up arrogantly “Once I was called Elan Morin Tedronai, but now—” “Betrayer of Hope.” It was a whisper from Lews Therin Memory stirred, but he turned his head, shying away from it “So you remember some things Yes, Betrayer of Hope So have men named me, just as they named you Dragon, but unlike you I embrace the name They gave me the name to revile me, but I will yet make them kneel and worship it What will you with your name? After this day, men will call you Kinslayer What will you with that?” Lews Therin frowned down the ruined hall “Ilyena should be here to offer a guest welcome,” he murmured absently, then raised his voice “Ilyena, where are you?” The floor shook; the golden-haired woman’s body shifted as lad, by his clothes, with a light of mischief in his brown eyes and the hint of a smile on his lips, as if in memory or anticipation of a prank The flesh looked warm, but the chest did not move with breath, the eyes did not blink The air to Ba’alzamon’s right wavered as if with heat, and a second country-clad figure suspended a little below Ba’alzamon A curlyhaired youth, as heavily muscled as a blacksmith And an oddity: a battleaxe at his side, a great, steel half-moon balanced by a thick spike The man who called himself Bors suddenly leaned forward, intent on an even greater strangeness A youth with yellow eyes For the third time air solidified into the shape of a young man, this time directly under Ba’alzamon’s eye, almost at his feet A tall fellow, with eyes now gray, now almost blue as the light took them, and dark, reddish hair Another villager, or farmer The man who called himself Bors gasped Yet another thing out of the ordinary, though he wondered why he should expect anything to be ordinary here A sword swung from the figure’s belt, a sword with a bronze heron on the scabbard and another inset into the long, twohanded hilt A village boy with a heron-mark blade? Impossible! What can it mean? And a boy with yellow eyes He noticed the Myrddraal looking at the figures, trembling; and unless he misjudged entirely, its trembling was no longer fear, but hatred Dead silence had fallen, silence that Ba’alzamon let deepen before he spoke “There is now one who walks the world, one who was and will be, but is not yet, the Dragon.” A startled murmur ran through his listeners “The Dragon Reborn! We are to kill him, Great Lord?” That from the Shienaran, hand grasping eagerly at his side where his sword would hang “Perhaps,” Ba’alzamon said simply “And perhaps not Perhaps he can be turned to my use Sooner or later it will be so, in this Age or another.” The man who called himself Bors blinked In this Age or another? I thought the Day of Return was near What matter to me what happens in another Age if I grow old and die waiting in this one? But Ba’alzamon was speaking again “Already a bend is forming in the Pattern, one of many points where he who will become the Dragon may be turned to my service Must be turned! Better that he serve me alive than dead, but alive or dead, serve me he must and will! These three you must know, for each is a thread in the pattern I mean to weave, and it will be up to you to see that they are placed as I command Study them well, that you will know them.” Abruptly all sound was gone The man who called himself Bors shifted uneasily, and saw others doing the same All but the Illianer woman, he realized With her hands spread over her bosom as if to hide the rounded flesh she exposed, eyes wide, half frightened and half ecstatic, she was nodding eagerly as though to someone face-to-face with her Sometimes she appeared to give a reply, but the man who called himself Bors heard not a word Suddenly she arched backwards, trembling and rising on her toes He could not see why she did not fall, unless something unseen held her Then, just as abruptly, she settled back to her feet and nodded again, bowing, shivering Even as she straightened, one of the women wearing a Great Serpent ring gave a start and began nodding So each of us hears his own instructions, and none hears another’s The man who called himself Bors muttered in frustration If he knew what even one other was commanded, he might be able to use the knowledge to advantage, but this way Impatiently he waited for his turn, forgetting himself enough to stand straight One by one the gathering received their orders, each walled in silence yet still giving tantalizing clues, if only he could read them The man of the Atha’an Miere, the Sea Folk, stiffening with reluctance as he nodded The Shienaran, his stance be speaking confusion even while he acquiesced The second woman of Tar Valon giving a start, as of shock, and the gray-swathed figure whose sex he could not determine shaking its head before falling to its knees and nodding vigorously Some underwent the same convulsion as the Illianer woman, as if pain itself lifted them to toe tips “Bors.” The man who called himself Bors jerked as a red mask filled his eyes He could still see the room, still see the floating shape of Ba’alzamon and the three figures before him, but at the same time all he could see was the redmasked face Dizzy, he felt as if his skull were splitting open and his eyes were being pushed out of his head For a moment he thought he could see flames through the eyeholes of the mask “Are you faithful Bors?” The hint of mocking in the name sent a chill down his backbone “I am faithful, Great Lord I cannot hide from you.” I am faithful! I swear it! “No, you cannot.” The certainty in Ba’alzamon’s voice dried his mouth, but he forced himself to speak “Command me, Great Lord, and I obey.” “Firstly, you are to return to Tarabon and continue your good works In fact, I command you to redouble your efforts.” He stared at Ba’alzamon in puzzlement, but then fires flared again behind the mask, and he took the excuse of a bow to pull his eyes away “As you command, Great Lord, so shall it be.” “Secondly, you will watch for the three young men, and have your followers watch Be warned; they are dangerous.” The man who called himself Bors glanced at the figures floating in front of Ba’alzamon How can I that? I can see them, but I can’t see anything except his face His head felt about to burst Sweat slicked his hands under his thin gloves, and his shirt clung to his back “Dangerous, Great Lord? Farmboys? Is one of them the—” “A sword is dangerous to the man at the point, but not to the man at the hilt Unless the man holding the sword is a fool, or careless, or unskilled, in which case it is twice as dangerous to him as to anyone else It is enough that I have told you to know them It is enough that you obey me.” “As you command, Great Lord, so shall it be.” “Thirdly, regarding those who have landed at Toman Head, and the Domani Of this you will speak to no one When you return to Tarabon .” The man who called himself Bors realized as he listened that his mouth was sagging open The instructions made no sense If I knew what some of the others were told, perhaps I could piece it together Abruptly, he felt his head grasped as though by a giant hand crushing his temples, felt himself being lifted, and the world blew apart in a thousand starbursts, each flash of light becoming an image that fled across his mind or spun and dwindled into the distance before he could more than barely grasp it An impossible sky of striated clouds, red and yellow and black, racing as if driven by the mightiest wind the world had ever seen A woman—a girl?— dressed in white receded into blackness and vanished as soon as she appeared A raven stared him in the eye, knowing him, and was gone An armored man in a brutal helm, shaped and painted and gilded like some monstrous, poisonous insect, raised a sword and plunged to one side, beyond his view A horn, curled and golden, came hurtling out of the far distance One piercing note it sounded as it flashed toward him, tugging his soul At the last instant it flashed into a blinding, golden ring of light that passed through him, chilling him beyond death A wolf leaped from the shadows of lost sight and ripped out his throat He could not scream The torrent went on, drowning him, burying him He could barely remember who he was, or what he was The skies rained fire, and the moon and stars fell; rivers ran in blood, and the dead walked; the earth split open and fountained molten rock The man who called himself Bors found himself half crouching in the chamber with the others, most watching him, all silent Wherever he looked, up or down or in any direction, the masked face of Ba’alzamon overwhelmed his eyes The images that had flooded into his mind were fading; he was sure many were already gone from memory Hesitantly, he straightened, Ba’alzamon always before him “Great Lord, what—?” “Some commands are too important to be known even by he who carries them out.” The man who called himself Bors bent almost double in his bow “As you command, Great Lord,” he whispered hoarsely, “so shall it be.” When he straightened, he was alone in silence once more Another, the Taren High Lord, nodded and bowed to someone none else saw The man who called himself Bors put an unsteady hand to his brow, trying to hold on to something of what had burst through his mind, though he was not completely certain he wanted to remember The last remnant flickered out, and suddenly he was wondering what it was that he was trying to recall I know there was something, but what? There was something! Wasn’t there? He rubbed his hands together, grimacing at the feel of sweat under his gloves, and turned his attention to the three figures hanging suspended before Ba’alzamon’s floating form The muscular, curly-haired youth; the farmer with the sword; and the lad with the look of mischief on his face Already, in his mind, the man who called himself Bors had named them the Blacksmith, the Swordsman, and the Trickster What is their place in the puzzle? They must be important, or Ba’alzamon would not have made them the center of this gathering But from his orders alone they could all die at any time, and he had to think that some of the others, at least, had orders as deadly for the three How important are they? Blue eyes could mean the nobility of Andor—unlikely in those clothes —and there were Borderlanders with light eyes, as well as some Tareni, not to mention a few from Ghealdan, and, of course No, no help there But yellow eyes? Who are they? What are they? He started at a touch on his arm, and looked around to find one of the white-clad servants, a young man, standing by his side The others were back, too, more than before, one for each of the masked He blinked Ba’alzamon was gone The Myrddraal was gone, too, and only rough stone was where the door it had used had been was only rough stone The three figures still there, though He felt as if they were staring at him “If it please you, my Lord Bors, I will show you to your room.” Avoiding those dead eyes, he glanced once more at the three figures, then followed Uneasily he wondered how the youth had known what name to use It was not until the strange carved doors closed behind him and they had walked a dozen paces that he realized he was alone in the corridor with the servant His brows drew down suspiciously behind his mask, but before he could open his mouth, the servant spoke “The others are also being shown to their rooms, my Lord If you please, my Lord? Time is short, and our Master is impatient.” The man who called himself Bors ground his teeth, both at the lack of information and at the implication of sameness between himself and the servant, but he followed in silence Only a fool ranted at a servant, and worse, remembering the fellow’s eyes, he was not sure it would any good And how did he know what I was going to ask? The servant smiled The man who called himself Bors did not feel at all comfortable until he was back in the room where he had waited on first arriving, and then not much Even finding the seals on his saddlebags untouched was small comfort The servant stood in the hallway, not entering “You may change to your own garments if you wish, my Lord None will see you depart here, nor arrive at your destination, but it may be best to arrive already properly clothed Someone will come soon to show you the way.” Untouched by any visible hand, the door swung shut The man who called himself Bors shivered in spite of himself Hastily he undid the seals and buckles of his saddlebags and pulled out his usual cloak In the back of his mind a small voice wondered if the promised power, even the immortality, was worth another meeting like this, but he laughed it down immediately For that much power, I would praise the Great Lord of the Dark under the Dome of Truth Remembering the commands given him by Ba’alzamon, he fingered the golden, flaring sun worked on the breast of the white cloak, and the red shepherd’s crook behind the sun, symbol of his office in the world of men, and he almost laughed There was work, great work, to be done in Tarabon, and on Almoth Plain About the Author Robert Jordan was born in 1948 in Charleston, South Carolina He taught himself to read when he was four with the incidental aid of a twelveyears-older brother, and was tackling Mark Twain and Jules Verne by five He was a graduate of The Citadel, The Military College of South Carolina, with a degree in physics He served two tours in Vietnam with the U.S Army; among his decorations are the Distinguished Flying Cross with bronze oak leaf cluster, the Bronze Star with “V” and bronze oak leaf cluster, and two Vietnamese Gallantry Crosses with Palm A history buff, he also wrote dance and theater criticism He enjoyed the outdoor sports of hunting, fishing, and sailing, and the indoor sports of poker, chess, pool, and pipe collecting He began writing in 1977 and continued until his death on September 16, 2007 Table of Contents Cover Page Title Page Copyright Page Table of Contents PROLOGUE Dragonmount MAPS An Empty Road Strangers The Peddler The Gleeman Winternight The Westwood Out of the Woods A Place of Safety Tellings of the Wheel 10 Leavetaking 11 The Road to Taren Ferry 12 Across the Taren 13 Choices 14 The Stag and Lion 15 Strangers and Friends 16 The Wisdom 17 Watchers and Hunters 18 The Caemlyn Road 19 Shadow’s Waiting 20 Dust on the Wind 21 Listen to the Wind 22 A Path Chosen 23 Wolfbrother 24 Flight Down the Arinelle 25 The Traveling People 26 Whitebridge 27 Shelter From the Storm 28 Footprints in Air 29 Eyes Without Pity 30 Children of Shadow 31 Play for Your Supper 32 Four Kings in Shadow 33 The Dark Waits 34 The Last Village 35 Caemlyn 36 Web of the Pattern 37 The Long Chase 38 Rescue 39 Weaving of the Web 40 The Web Tightens 41 Old Friends and New Threats 42 Remembrance of Dreams 43 Decisions and Apparitions 44 The Dark Along the Ways 45 What Follows in Shadow 46 Fal Dara 47 More Tales of the Wheel 48 The Blight 49 The Dark One Stirs 50 Meetings at the Eye 51 Against the Shadow 52 There Is Neither Beginning Nor End 53 The Wheel Turns GLOSSARY Table of Contents Cover Page Title Page Copyright Page Table of Contents PROLOGUE Dragonmount MAPS An Empty Road Strangers The Peddler The Gleeman Winternight The Westwood Out of the Woods A Place of Safety Tellings of the Wheel 10 Leavetaking 11 The Road to Taren Ferry 12 Across the Taren 13 Choices 14 The Stag and Lion 15 Strangers and Friends 16 The Wisdom 17 Watchers and Hunters 18 The Caemlyn Road 19 Shadow’s Waiting 20 Dust on the Wind 21 Listen to the Wind 22 A Path Chosen 23 Wolfbrother 24 Flight Down the Arinelle 25 The Traveling People 26 Whitebridge 27 Shelter From the Storm 28 Footprints in Air 29 Eyes Without Pity 30 Children of Shadow 31 Play for Your Supper 32 Four Kings in Shadow 33 The Dark Waits 34 The Last Village 35 Caemlyn 36 Web of the Pattern 37 The Long Chase 38 Rescue 39 Weaving of the Web 40 The Web Tightens 41 Old Friends and New Threats 42 Remembrance of Dreams 43 Decisions and Apparitions 44 The Dark Along the Ways 45 What Follows in Shadow 46 Fal Dara 47 More Tales of the Wheel 48 The Blight 49 The Dark One Stirs 50 Meetings at the Eye 51 Against the Shadow 52 There Is Neither Beginning Nor End 53 The Wheel Turns GLOSSARY Table of Contents Cover Page Title Page Copyright Page Table of Contents PROLOGUE Dragonmount MAPS An Empty Road Strangers The Peddler The Gleeman Winternight The Westwood Out of the Woods A Place of Safety Tellings of the Wheel 10 Leavetaking 11 The Road to Taren Ferry 12 Across the Taren 13 Choices 14 The Stag and Lion 15 Strangers and Friends 16 The Wisdom 17 Watchers and Hunters 18 The Caemlyn Road 19 Shadow’s Waiting 20 Dust on the Wind 21 Listen to the Wind 22 A Path Chosen 23 Wolfbrother 24 Flight Down the Arinelle 25 The Traveling People 26 Whitebridge 27 Shelter From the Storm 28 Footprints in Air 29 Eyes Without Pity 30 Children of Shadow 31 Play for Your Supper 32 Four Kings in Shadow 33 The Dark Waits 34 The Last Village 35 Caemlyn 36 Web of the Pattern 37 The Long Chase 38 Rescue 39 Weaving of the Web 40 The Web Tightens 41 Old Friends and New Threats 42 Remembrance of Dreams 43 Decisions and Apparitions 44 The Dark Along the Ways 45 What Follows in Shadow 46 Fal Dara 47 More Tales of the Wheel 48 The Blight 49 The Dark One Stirs 50 Meetings at the Eye 51 Against the Shadow 52 There Is Neither Beginning Nor End 53 The Wheel Turns GLOSSARY Table of Contents Cover Page Title Page Copyright Page Table of Contents PROLOGUE Dragonmount MAPS An Empty Road Strangers The Peddler The Gleeman Winternight The Westwood Out of the Woods A Place of Safety Tellings of the Wheel 10 Leavetaking 11 The Road to Taren Ferry 12 Across the Taren 13 Choices 14 The Stag and Lion 15 Strangers and Friends 16 The Wisdom 17 Watchers and Hunters 18 The Caemlyn Road 19 Shadow’s Waiting 20 Dust on the Wind 21 Listen to the Wind 22 A Path Chosen 23 Wolfbrother 24 Flight Down the Arinelle 25 The Traveling People 26 Whitebridge 27 Shelter From the Storm 28 Footprints in Air 29 Eyes Without Pity 30 Children of Shadow 31 Play for Your Supper 32 Four Kings in Shadow 33 The Dark Waits 34 The Last Village 35 Caemlyn 36 Web of the Pattern 37 The Long Chase 38 Rescue 39 Weaving of the Web 40 The Web Tightens 41 Old Friends and New Threats 42 Remembrance of Dreams 43 Decisions and Apparitions 44 The Dark Along the Ways 45 What Follows in Shadow 46 Fal Dara 47 More Tales of the Wheel 48 The Blight 49 The Dark One Stirs 50 Meetings at the Eye 51 Against the Shadow 52 There Is Neither Beginning Nor End 53 The Wheel Turns GLOSSARY ... novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously THE EYE OF THE WORLD Copyright © 1990 by The Bandersnatch Group, Inc The phrases "The Wheel of Time®” and The Dragon... above all others, of him who brought the Shadow and the Breaking of the World And him they named Dragon (From Aleth nin Taerin alta Camora ,The Breaking of the World Author unknown, the Fourth... and all of the Forsaken are bound in Shayol Ghul, beyond the Great Blight, bound by the Creator at the moment of Creation, bound until the end of time The hand of the Creator shelters the world,