Robert Jordan - The Fires of Heaven: Book Five of The Wheel of Time

Praise for Robert Jordans

T HE W HEEL OF T IME

Jordans multivolume epic [is] a feast for fantasy aficionados.

Library Journal

Book One: THE EYE OF THE WORLD

New readers are advised to start with the first book, The Eye of the World. It may take you a year of steady reading, but by next year youll be chomping at the bit to jump on the newest book.

Robert Knox, MPG Newspapers

Book Two: THE GREAT HUNT

On very rare occasions, very talented storytellers create worlds that are beyond fantasy; worlds that become realities. Robert Jordan has.

Morgan Llywelyn, author of Lion of Ireland and Druids

Book Three: THE DRAGON REBORN

One of the books to read this year.

Science Fiction Review

Book Four: THE SHADOW RISING

The fourth volume of the most ambitious American fantasy saga continues to suggest that The Wheel of Time will also be the finest.

Booklist

Book Five: THE FIRES OF HEAVEN

Rich and enthralling.

Locus

T HE W HEEL OF T IME

by Robert Jordan

The Eye of the World
The Great Hunt
The Dragon Reborn
The Shadow Rising
The Fires of Heaven
Lord of Chaos
A Crown of Swords
The Path of Daggers
Winters Heart
Crossroads of Twilight
Knife of Dreams

by Robert Jordan
and Brandon Sanderson

The Gathering Storm

ROBERT JORDAN

A TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES BOOK
NEW YORK

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously.

THE FIRES OF HEAVEN

Copyright 1993 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 Dan Dos Santos
Maps by Ellisa Mitchell
Interior illustrations by Matthew C. Nielsen and Ellisa Mitchell

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 978-1-4299-6037-3

First Edition: November 1993
First E-book Edition: February 2010

Manufactured in the United States of America

For Harriet

The light of her eyes is my Light.

With his coming are the dread fires born again. The hills burn, and the land turns sere. The tides of men run out, and the hours dwindle. The wall is pierced, and the veil of parting raised. Storms rumble beyond the horizon, and the fires of heaven purge the earth. There is no salvation without destruction, no hope this side of death.

fragment from The Prophecies of the Dragon
believed translated by NDelia Basolaine
First Maid and Swordfast to Raidhen of Hoi Cuchone

(circa 400 AB)

E laida do Avriny aRoihan absently fingered the long, seven-striped stole about her shoulders, the stole of the Amyrlin Seat, as she sat behind her wide writing table. Many would have accounted her beautiful, at first glance, but a second look made it clear that the severity of her ageless, Aes Sedai face was not a momentary matter. Today there was something more, a light of anger in her dark eyes. If anyone had noticed.

She barely listened to the women arrayed on stools before her. Their dresses were every color from white to the darkest red, in silk or wool as each womans taste dictated, yet all but one wore their formal shawls, embroidered White Flame of Tar Valon centered on their backs, colored fringe proclaiming their Ajahs, as though this were a meeting of the Hall of the Tower. They discussed reports and rumors of events in the world, trying to sift fact from fancy, trying to decide the Towers course of action, but they seldom even glanced at the woman behind the table, the woman they had sworn to obey. Elaida could not keep her full attention on them. They did not know what was really important. Or rather, they knew and feared to speak of it.

There is apparently something happening in Shienar. That was Danelle, slight and often seemingly lost in a dream, the only Brown sister present. Green and Yellow also had only one sister apiece, and none of the three Ajahs was pleased about that. There were no Blues. Now Danelles big blue eyes looked thoughtfully inward; an unnoticed ink smudge stained her cheek, and her dark gray wool dress was rumpled. There are rumors of skirmishes. Not with Trollocs, and not Aiel, though raids through the Niamh Passes appear to have increased. Between Shienarans. Unusual for the Borderlands. They seldom fight each other.

If they intend to have a civil war, they have chosen the proper time for it, Alviarin said coolly. Tall and slim and all in white silk, she was the one without a shawl. The stole of the Keeper around her shoulders was white also, to show she had been raised from the White Ajah. Not Red, Elaidas former Ajah, as tradition held. Whites were always cool. The Trollocs might as well have vanished. The entire Blight seems quiet enough for two farmers and a novice to guard.

Teslyns bony fingers shuffled papers on her lap, though she did not look at them. One of four Red sisters theremore than any other Ajahshe ran Elaida a close second for severity, though no one had ever thought her beautiful. Better perhaps if it did no be so quiet, Teslyn said, her Illianer accent strong. I did receive a message this morning that the Marshal-General of Saldaea does have an army on the move. No toward the Blight, but in the opposite direction. South and east. He would no ever have done that if the Blight did no seem to be asleep.

Then word of Mazrim Taim is seeping out. Alviarin could have been discussing the weather or the price of carpets instead of a potential disaster. Much effort had gone into capturing Taim, and as much into hiding his escape. No good to the Tower if the world learned they could not hold on to a false Dragon once he was taken. And it seems that Queen Tenobia, or Davram Bashere, or both, thinks we cannot be trusted to deal with him again.

Dead quiet fell at the mention of Taim. The man could channelhe had been on his way to Tar Valon to be gentled, cut off from the One Power forever, when he was broken freeyet that was not what curbed tongues. Once the existence of a man able to channel the One Power had been the deepest anathema; hunting such men down was the main reason of existence for the Red, and every Ajah helped as it could. But now most of the women beyond the table shifted on their stools, refusing to meet each others eyes, because speaking of Taim brought them too close to another subject they did not want to speak aloud. Even Elaida felt bile rise in her stomach.

Apparently Alviarin experienced no such reluctance. One corner of her mouth quirked momentarily in what might have been smile or grimace. I will redouble our efforts to retake Taim. And I suggest that a sister be dispatched to counsel Tenobia. Someone used to overcoming the sort of stubborn resistance that young woman will put up.

Others rushed to help fill the silence.

Joline shifted her green-fringed shawl on slender shoulders and smiled, though it seemed a bit forced. Yes. She needs an Aes Sedai at her shoulder. Someone able to handle Bashere. He has excessive influence with Tenobia. He must move his army back where it can be used if the Blight wakes up. Too much bosom showed in the gap of her shawl, and her pale green silk was too snug, too clinging. And she smiled too much for Elaidas liking. Especially at men. Greens always did.