Excerpts fantasy Read an Excerpt From The Tapestry of Fate by Shannon Chakraborty Amina al-Sirafi’s quest to track down magical artifacts brings her to the island lair of a sorceress whose woven enchantments are impossible to flee. By Shannon Chakraborty | Published on April 14, 2026 Comment 0 Share New Share We’re thrilled to share an excerpt from The Tapestry of Fate, the second installment of the Amina al-Sirafi Adventures by Shannon Chakraborty—publishing with Harper Voyager on May 12th. Amina al-Sirafi thinks she’s struck gold. Tasked with hunting down arcane artifacts for the council of immortal peris, she can savor the occasional rollicking adventure on the high seas with her cherished criminal companions while still returning home to raise her beloved daughter, Marjana. But when Raksh, the spirit of discord with whom she is reluctantly wed, provokes the council’s wrath, Amina is charged with a seemingly impossible quest: steal a spindle capable of rewriting fate from a mysterious sorceress on an island no one can escape.Forced to leave Marjana—who is increasingly frustrated at being peddled what are clearly lies about her mother’s life and her own past—Amina finds her mission almost immediately thrown into peril. But deadly storms, an erratic poison mistress, and old enemies are the least of her worries. For the peris’ story is unraveling, hinting at a far deadlier game whose rules Amina must swiftly puzzle out. A game that sets her against an adversary more cunning and powerful than she has ever faced.A game that not everyone on her crew wants her to win. There are a great many things one can credit criminals with, but the one trait that truly distinguishes the middling from the successful is simple: discretion. And it is discretion that gains you admission to Sarilaglag. You will find Sarilaglag on no map, glean not even the slightest mention in a text. Its name sounds like nonsense and may very well be—for its origins are a mystery. Sarilaglag might have been there in the days of the Persian shahs or perhaps it was only dreamed up in the more recent heyday of the Abbasids, God alone knows best. Indeed, I am likely the first to speak of its existence to an outsider, a betrayal for which a great many bandits would cut my throat—so perhaps keep this account to yourself until I have returned to my Creator. But I suspect the time of that great criminal metropolis on the sea is fading, and it seems a remarkable enough wonder to be remembered despite the anonymity that kept it bustling for so long. As to its location, ah, but the old vow tugs at my heart. You have no doubt worked out that it is in the Persian Gulf, but I shall say no more. There are certain quirks of geography that enable Sarilaglag’s existence, the tides and terrain and deeply inhospitable hinterlands all combining to create a unique gem: a hidden floating town made entirely of boats. Some are ancient and primitive: vast reed platforms that have been built over and decayed so that they are more island than vessel. Others the flashiest racing boats from Iraq and the newest sailing junks from China. However, the majority are houseboats, like those you see in Baghdad, intended to spend their lives tethered in place, a residence more than a mode of transport. They are painted and decorated mostly gaily, with proud banners indicating the type of outlaw they host and boasting their grandest accomplishments. There are hundreds of such boats, tethered to stone columns that jut from the seabed like a drowned forest. It is a maze of dwellings that feels almost like a city—save that the ground bobs without warning and one needs to take a skiff to get from place to place. This mobility is by design; if you’re going to have a central meeting place of brigands, you’re asking for trouble. Order is kept by ruthless agreement and necessity in Sarilaglag, but it is a messy affair, and feuds, duels, and murders run rampant. But the boats allow bands to move apart if they fall afoul of one another and keep the pecking order of power fluid. If a navy or other lawful strangers ever came sniffing, the town could be broken apart, everyone sailing away. And if true order is deteriorating, violent calamity beckoning, there is always the overarching threat of arson. My grandfather told me of such a blaze when he was a youth; those in charge of Sarilaglag deciding its denizens needed to learn how valuable such a safe harbor was the hard way. Either way, it was a notorious place with no notoriety outside its denizens, one where you were watched and studied, judged and made ally or competition. I had visited a handful of times in my prime, taught the route by a smuggler who deemed me worthy when I saved his crew and cargo from a patrol in Bahrain. Pirates occupied a snobbish rank in Sarilaglag, preferring to keep their precious ships apart from the crowded morass of bobbing old houseboats “captained” more often than not by men who couldn’t have hoisted a sail if their life depended on it. At the end of the day, however, it was a place of many, many eyes. Always watching, always waiting. For the law, for an old enemy, for opportunity. With everyone on the lookout, it was extraordinarily difficult to sneak around. There were youths who made a living by spying and selling secrets; boys who could swim like a fish, paint themselves to resemble mangroves, live in a gutter hole for weeks. So, when I poled a skiff down Sarilaglag’s main watery avenue at the height of day, the sun blazing to illuminate my famed leopard dagger and the straight sword at my back, my brightly colored robe of Yemeni ikat and woman’s turban, gazes were drawn, then snatched, so intent that I could feel their weight upon my shoulders. Which was my goal. Indeed, I began to whistle as I passed the outer houseboats, those belonging to lesser outlaws who feigned medical calamity to elicit sympathetic coin (between the animal bladders, the excited self-branding and binding, and the noxious substances they brew to imitate pus, they are a bunch of weirdos best avoided). I pushed my skiff languidly through the pale green water, as though I had few cares and all the time in the world. As though time were not a fragile, precious resource—the days I’d spent fretting and pacing in Baghdad, knowing each additional one made it more likely my ludicrous plot might bear fruit while also fearing it brought further risk to Dalila. I was alone, having rowed out here in the dead of the night to wait in the mangroves for just the right moment. My Marawati, little more than a speck on the horizon, would be along later but was under the strictest orders not to risk the rest of the crew and unleash burning arrows of Rumi fire should anyone approach. Then the first disbelieving whisper curled around my ear. “Is that… Amina al-Sirafi?” It was followed quickly by a second, a third, and then carried in hisses and epithets, both admiring and scornful. “Heard she was swallowed by a sea devil—” “—married a Socotran pirate.” “Fucked the caliph and retired on a pile of gold.” I let the rumors settle around me, feeling old annoyance at the more insulting allegations, but with age had come something else: pride. Vain and sinful, it was nonetheless pleasing to discover that although more than a decade had passed since I last took to the seas as a pirate, I was still remembered. As a terror, as unnatural, as a seducer—yes, but I’d left my mark among the rowdiest and most cunning criminals and that was not a thing lightly done. Buy the Book The Tapestry of Fate Shannon Chakraborty Buy Book The Tapestry of Fate Shannon Chakraborty Buy this book from: At least, that is what I tried to tell myself as I poled into my most daring gamble yet. The whispers continued. I made a show of ignoring them even as I kept a close ear for recognizable voices. For a gaze more vengeful than curious, for a familiar cloak, a profile I might have once stalked. I was both dependent on such hopes and at their mercy. The peri island might have blessed my speed and my senses, but I didn’t like the odds should a determined archer set their sights on my exposed back. They cannot see you sweat. Every part of my plan—from dealing with the Banu Sasan and their unknown aims, to confronting Raksh, to managing the impossible to foresee consequences of my scheme—depended on a level of confidence, nay cockiness, that was absurd. I took a deep breath, and in need of distraction, turned to appreciate the sights around me. It might be the wonders of God’s creation—magnificent mountains, the stunning ruins of ancient civilizations—that we are told to admire and contemplate, but I would argue the absolute ingenuity of charlatans must also be remarked upon. For I have never seen an impulse more creative than that of a huckster looking to part a mark from his money, and as the wonders of Sarilaglag opened up, I could not help but marvel. Canoes full of ingredients to manufacture every sort of counterfeit good, from rhino horn to ambergris, mother-of-pearl to camphor, flitted among the canal of the fraudsters, stopping at a safe distance from the false alchemists—whose madcap chemistry and metallurgy experiments were kept apart from anything flammable. The street entertainers were next: contortionists bending into knots and tucking themselves into jars while acrobats walked tightropes stretching from opposing ship masts and youngsters practiced folding parchment into trick squares and tying blindfolds so the bearer could secretly see. I steered clear of the canal of the beggars, its shadowed, sorrow-filled houseboats smelling of blood and scorched flesh, the desperate ways people maimed themselves and others—including children—to elicit sympathy and coins from strangers when feigned maladies did not work. Beyond were the forgers, the most talented in the world who could imitate any signature, write in rare, nigh forgotten tongues, and who kept parchment and inks from all over creation. They shared space and ingredients with the poisoners, Dalila’s brethren, though she had foresworn earlier visits to Sarilaglag at my side and dismissed these practitioners as incompetent. Across was the avenue of the animals, where an assortment of apes was being coaxed to wear human garments and trained to do everything from pray to “read,” in hopes of one day being passed off as ensorcelled princes in need of money to undo their foul enchantment. On another boat, bears were being berated into dancing and snakes being either defanged and/or charmed depending on their temperaments. Yet even criminals in the abode of deception—where they trained their protégés and took refuge from the law—abided by a code, a form of respect if not fear, and Sarilaglag’s was this: the deeper one delved toward the murky shore of mangroves and razor-sharp rocks, the more lethal the arts taught. Past the mewling bears and contract forgers was the alley of the stranglers, marked by barbed garrotes and silken cords hanging from banners, tallies marking successful kills. The armory boats, those selling blades, bows, and other assorted weapons, were next—along with their deadliest masters. The arsonists followed, those who killed without aim and without care, their deadly conflagrations responsible for scores of murdered souls. In large gondolas cunningly and mockingly made up to appear like temples and hermit dens were the false preachers, those who did not fear God and thus pretend to be any variety of holy men—Sufi mendicants, Christian saints, reincarnations of various Indian deities—to prey on the devout and damn their souls. Beyond—and I wish I was making this up—was the island of women. Yes, all women, for apparently even female forgers are as deadly and distrusted as those who proudly decorate their vessel with bloodied garrotes. It wasn’t a true island but rather a great number of floating platforms whose age had anchored them to the seabed, along with a cluster of houseboats, all overgrown with weeds now tall as trees and mangroves on the western side, throwing it into shadow. There had never been an enormous number of female bandits when I visited; as you might imagine, Sarilaglag attracted violent men, and the code of safe conduct that kept the peace among men did not always extend to the women they often looked down upon. The ones that did make a life for themselves here were thus a ruthless group. I’d been told the Marawati had a standing offer of a berth, but I’d yet to consider it. Even I was afraid of the women of Sarilaglag. Keeping my gaze low, I poled past a floating garden of courtesans practicing card tricks and counterfeiters spreading their tools in the sunshine. A gondola of hijras gawked in recognition and then started laughing. “It is the Sea Leopardess. Aye, Amina al-Sirafi, come sit a spell with us!” “Nay, she best keep going. That bitch cost me my shares in a merchant vessel!” I poled faster. Finally, with another turn of the skiff, I passed the island of women and approached the sole structure not dwelling upon the water: Sarilaglag’s famed meetinghouse. Here deals were struck, gang wars settled, the marriage of crime lords negotiated, and the assassination of princes plotted. The meetinghouse sat high upon a sea wall constructed of green-tinged coral at the foot of a watch tower staffed by a group of extremely well-paid Mamluks who risked death if there was even a whiff of bribery. The building was not overly large but was marked rather dramatically by the severed halves of an old Rus sailing vessel. Legend had it that a crew of the strange northerners once attempted to take over Sarilaglag, dragging their distinctive ships with iron nails and rearing, curled dragon heads across the Sinai, down the Red Sea and into the Persian Gulf, only to be met with the combined force of criminals from Guangzhou to Timbuktu. Their boats were broken and their crucified bodies hung as a warning from the berthing posts. An elder pirate once swore to me that you could still see a fragment of skull with its moldy blond locks plastered to the top of one, though all I could ever make out were some long-dead mollusks among a bird’s nest. The tide had been pulling me toward the eastern bank, but as I glancedup at the watchtower, trying to tamp down my fear, it abruptly gentled. A pleasant breeze tickled my face as a cloud crossed the sun, alleviating the afternoon heat, and the ache in my knee vanished. A whisper—somehow soundless, more like a caress upon my very heart—curled around my nape. Ah, I thought. So you are here. Excerpted from The Tapestry of Fate by Shannon Chakraborty. Copyright © 2026 by Shannon Chakraborty. Reprinted courtesy of Harper Voyager, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers. The post Read an Excerpt From <i>The Tapestry of Fate</i> by Shannon Chakraborty appeared first on Reactor.

News Passenger Buckle Up and Don’t Stop Driving While Watching the Passenger Trailer Backseat driving takes on a new, sinister meaning By Vanessa Armstrong | Published on April 14, 2026 Credit: Paramount Pictures Comment 0 Share New Share Credit: Paramount Pictures “No one outruns the passenger.” That’s what someone ominously says in the trailer for the upcoming horror film Passenger, a movie about a road trip gone horribly wrong, as its log line sums up nicely: A few weeks into their van life adventure, a young couple witnesses a horrific accident that leaves the driver dead. Soon they’re being pursued by a demonic stalker who’s impossible to outrun and follows them wherever they go. That couple is played by Foundation’s Lou Llobell and Jacob Scipio (The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent, The Expendables 4). Passenger also stars Melissa Leo (The Equalizer 3, I Know This Much Is True). The film comes from André Øvredal, whose previous credits include The Last Voyage of Demeter, Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, and 2010’s underrated Troll Hunter, with a script written by Zachary Donohue & T.W. Burgess. If the trailer is any indication, the movie looks like it has several jump scares mixed in with anti-Christ messaging (we do see a burning church, after all, along with one of the characters unwillingly floating in the air in a messianic pose). I also appreciate the trailer’s cold open, sans music, which gives it a different vibe than most trailers we see these days (complimentary). Overall, it looks like solid horror movie fare, even giving us unverified stats like “130 million people take road trips every year. 15,400 of them are never seen again.” Passenger premieres in theaters on May 22, 2026. Buckle up and watch today’s trailer below. [end-mark] The post Buckle Up and Don’t Stop Driving While Watching the <i>Passenger</i> Trailer appeared first on Reactor.

Books Front Lines and Frontiers Tough Guys in Space: War World by William C. Dietz Welcome to the adventures of Sam McCade: Intergalactic Bounty Hunter By Alan Brown | Published on April 14, 2026 Comment 0 Share New Share In this bi-weekly series reviewing classic science fiction and fantasy books, Alan Brown looks at the front lines and frontiers of the field; books about soldiers and spacers, scientists and engineers, explorers and adventurers. Stories full of what Shakespeare used to refer to as “alarums and excursions”: battles, chases, clashes, and the stuff of excitement. I recently heard the sad news that author William C. Dietz had passed away; his name brought back a flood of memories. Starting in the mid-1980s, he was a reliable author of science fiction with adventure and military themes, and I bought a number of his books. His work did not break new ground with scientific and sociological speculation, but he always entertained the reader and kept you turning pages. If I had to compare him to other authors, it would be folks like Lester Dent, author of the Doc Savage pulp adventures, or Edgar Rice Burroughs, whose John Carter books set the standard for planetary romances for decades. News of Dietz’s death sent me down into my basement to search for examples of his work, and the first book I found was one of my favorites, War World, which also turns out to be his first book. Featuring the hard-bitten bounty hunter Sam McCade, it was successful enough not only to be reprinted, but also to kick off a series of three additional books, which were later collected again in two omnibus editions. Possibly to prevent confusion with Jerry Pournelle’s ongoing War World shared world anthology series, the reprint was given the title Galactic Bounty, and the other books in the series shared the word “bounty” in the title. My copy was an Ace paperback original published in 1986, with a cover by “Miro” (an artist I could not identify through an internet search), showing Sam in the cockpit of his spaceship, Pegasus, with his ever-present cigar clenched between his teeth. About the Author William C. Dietz (1945-2026) was an American science fiction author whose work often included military and adventure themes. He was prolific, and wrote over fifty novels in a career that began in 1986 and continued until his death. He was a corpsman who served with the Navy and Marines, and worked in a variety of civilian fields. His longest-running series (of over twelve books) featured the Legion of the Damned, a futuristic fighting force inspired by the French Foreign Legion. He wrote a number of books set in media and gaming universes, including a trilogy based on the Star Wars: Dark Forces video games, and books based on Halo, Mass Effect, and StarCraft. One of his latest original works was the America Rising trilogy, a post-apocalyptic story of war and survival. Bounty Hunters I have always been fascinated by the idea of bounty hunters, people who capture fugitives to collect a reward from the government, or from a bondsman who’s posted bail for the fugitive. I first encountered them in cowboy movies and books in my youth, and it always seemed strange to me that a person who often behaved like an outlaw could be helping enforce the law. Bounty hunters have long been a staple of pulp and adventure fiction, showing up in movies, detective novels, comic books, and science fiction. One of the most famous bounty hunters in science fiction is Boba Fett, from the Star Wars universe, who was introduced in The Empire Strikes Back as an enigmatic and menacing figure with only a few lines and then quickly killed off in Return of the Jedi. But due to fan demand, he was brought back from what had looked like certain death, appearing in comics and novels, and then in The Mandalorian series on Disney+. The bounty hunters of the Star Wars universe became so popular that they were featured in a comic, Star Wars: Bounty Hunters, that ran for several years after its first publication in 2020. While most countries have banned bounty hunting, in the United States the practice continues to this day, with the profession regulated by many state governments, and with practitioners represented by the National Association of Fugitive Recovery Agents. One current bounty hunter, Duane Chapman, gained notoriety by starring in the reality TV series Dog the Bounty Hunter. War World (later retitled as Galactic Bounty) Sam McCade makes his first appearance in a bar, searching for a fugitive: a professional killer named Cadien, who had made the mistake of blowing up a space yacht with the Emperor’s niece aboard. The human Empire is a loosely organized collection of star systems and planets, and without an interstellar police force, often relies on bounty hunters to bring in fugitives. McCade finds and kills Caiden, but not before being wounded himself, and when he regains consciousness, finds himself staring at his old shipmate, now Imperial Navy Captain, Walter Swanson-Pierce. McCade is confronted with an offer he can’t refuse, since he’s broke, and the Empire won’t approve payment of his bounty for Caiden unless he agrees to one more job—and that job is personal. McCade and Swanson-Pierce had both served as junior officers aboard Imperial under a Captain Ian Bridger. And both remember Bridger’s beautiful daughter Sara. But while Swanson-Pierce continued up through the ranks, McCade had been court-martialed by Bridger for disobeying orders during the Battle of Hell, a fierce clash with pirates where Bridger lost his wife and daughter, which is how McCade ended up as a bounty hunter. And now the Empire wants McCade to bring in Bridger. A group of licensed assassins attempt to do in McCade, but fail. The Empire, not the most enlightened of governments, allows people to buy licenses to kill their enemies, although Sam can’t imagine who would pay money to kill him (the incident is rather disconnected from the overall story, but it does break up a passage that would otherwise be pretty exposition-heavy). McCade learns that on the frontier, the Empire has pulled back to let human pirates clash with the Il Ron empire, an aggressive race that is humanity’s biggest opponent in a galaxy full of intelligent alien species. It is a policy that is hard on people on the frontier who bear the brunt of the pirate attacks, but it fits with the Empire’s hands-off approach to governing. But now Bridger has stumbled across something that could tip the balance of power, and it appears that he is willing to sell the secret to the Il Ron. At this point, the automated cart that brought lunch to McCade and Swanson-Pierce explodes, fortunately without seriously harming them (as an author, Dietz is determined not to let the readers get bored). McCade is assigned a Navy detail to assist him, led by the pretty female Lieutenant Laurie Lowe, and consisting of Section Leader Van Doren and a contingent of marines. McCade is given use of a former Navy scout, and more recently a private yacht, called Pegasus, which he will be allowed to keep if he succeeds in his mission, showing just how vital this mission is to the Empire. It turns out Bridger has discovered directions to a planet called the War World, full of artifacts from a now-extinct race humanity calls the Builders. These artifacts could give the Il Ron a huge advantage in their struggles with the human Empire. Bridger has become obsessed with hatred toward the pirates, to the point where he is willing to work with humanity’s arch enemies to enact vengeance on them. Navy Intelligence has traced Bridger to a cargo ship called Leviathan, and when McCade and Lowe approach, and ignore orders to stay away, they are fired upon. They attempt to board, but the tug portion of Leviathan separates from the cargo section and blasts off into hyperspace. McCade is once again wounded, and wakes up in a hospital. They have lost most of their Marine contingent, but McCade, Lowe and Van Doren head toward Weller’s World, a frontier world locked in an ice age, but marginally habitable. There, they face a torpedo attack from Bridger’s team, but survive to find the planet has a remarkably capable local government and military force. The Empire’s hands-off policy has encouraged frontier worlds to become independent, something that may cause problems in the future. There, McCade and company find that Captain Bridger’s daughter Sara had survived her capture by pirates, and has become a member of the world’s government. And now that all the pieces are on the game board, I will leave my recap a bit earlier than I usually do. There are a lot of twists and turns to the plot in this book—sudden reversals of fortune, betrayals, and surprises. To reveal them would take a lot of fun out of the story for those who might want to read it. A good twist is hard to carry off, as the author must foreshadow it well enough that it feels plausible, but not tip off the reader by giving too much information. But Dietz pulls them off very well, and the nature of the War World itself turns out to be the biggest twist of them all. One of my favorite twists is the appearance of a “Treel,” a shape-shifting alien from a race whose world’s predators forced them to develop remarkable powers of mimicry, allowing it to impersonate a number of characters in the book. And, by the end, McCade and the Treel seem to have developed a grudging respect for each other, even though one is a “softie” and the other a “rigid one.” Dietz’s battle scenes are crisp and exciting, and as with Edgar Rice Burroughs, his characters are often captured and must escape. The book also features humorous touches that balance out the action quite well. This book was Dietz’s first, but you wouldn’t know it from the writing, as it reads very smoothly. Sam McCade proves to be an excellent protagonist, a pragmatic everyman with a cigar nearly always clenched between his teeth. He succeeds not so much by being clever, but by being stubborn and durable. Despite his tough and practical exterior, he has a soft heart and strong morals, so he is easy to root for. The end of the book leaves room for sequels, and it is not surprising there were a number of them, and not surprising the books were reprinted several times. Final Thoughts If you are looking for serious literature and artsy prose, then War World is not for you. But if you are a fan of rollicking adventure stories, and looking for something exciting and entertaining, you will find exactly what you want. It is no surprise that War World kicked off a long and prolific career for William C. Deitz, and he will be missed. If you’ve read War World or other works by Dietz, or if you have any recollections of the author, I’d love to hear from you.[end-mark] The post Tough Guys in Space: <i>War World</i> by William C. Dietz appeared first on Reactor.

Blog Bloodborne Bloodborne Is Going to Become a Very Bloody Animated Film It’s not quite a Bloodborne sequel, but it’s a step in the right direction By Molly Templeton | Published on April 14, 2026 Screenshot: PlayStation Comment 0 Share New Share Screenshot: PlayStation In animation, you can have all the gore you want. At least that’s what Sony Pictures says about Bloodborne, which is getting an animated movie adaptation that Variety says “will embrace the carnage that made the game so popular.” In Bloodborne, players control a hunter who explores an ancient city, Yharnam, which is “now cursed with a strange endemic illness spreading through the streets like wildfire. Danger, death and madness lurk around every corner of this dark and horrific world, and you must discover its darkest secrets in order to survive,” as the official synopsis puts it. When it was released in 2015, the game earned glowing reviews pretty much across the board. The Guardian noted its “elegance, precision, humour, and challenge,” with writer Simon Parkin saying that Bloodborne creator Hidetaka Miyazaki “is, perhaps, the medium’s greatest world-builder.” The adaptation is being produced by PlayStation Productions, Lyrical Animation, and gamer Seán McLoughlin, aka JackSepticEye, who Variety notes is “is a gamer who has spent years in the world of Bloodborne, where his digital adventures are tracked by 48 million online fans.” This is, of course, just the latest video game to turn into a potentially massive adaptation. Sony also recently announced an adaptation of Helldivers; The Legend of Zelda movie reportedly has finished filming; The Super Mario Galaxy Movie was just a box-office hit; and, on the small screen, The Last of Us has at least another season, and God of War is in the works—to name just a few. There’s no word on when Bloodborne will hit screens, but be patient: animation takes time. You’ve gotta get all the gruesomeness just right.[end-mark] The post <i>Bloodborne</i> Is Going to Become a Very Bloody Animated Film appeared first on Reactor.

Books The Wheel of Time Reading The Wheel of Time: Mat Makes a Pact and Rand Executes a Plan in The Gathering Storm (Part 22) Rand is forced to do something unthinkable… By Sylas K Barrett | Published on April 14, 2026 Comment 0 Share New Share Hello hello, it’s time once again for Reading The Wheel of Time. This week we are covering chapters 36 and 37, in which Verin tells Mat a very interesting tale and makes an odd request, Tuon contemplates her new identity and the upcoming attack on the White Tower, and Rand finds a way to kill a woman smarter than himself. Or does he? Verin explains to Mat how she began a journey from Tear to Tar Valon but ended up in Trustair through a sequence of compounding coincidences that she was able to recognize as the Pattern directing her somewhere. She also experienced a sensation of being pulled or tugged on, which Mat recognizes as the same pull he has been feeling towards Rand. Mat shifted again. “As if someone’s got a bloody fishhook inside of you? And is standing far away, pulling gently—but insistently—on it?”“Yes,” Verin said. She smiled. “What a clever description.” When Mat learns that she was with Rand in Tear, he asks after his friend. Verin reports that Rand is mad, though he seems to be still in control of himself, and informs Mat of the cleansing of saidin. Mat is astonished, though Verin downplays the importance of the event. She tells Mat that she attempted to Skim to Tar Valon, only to end up at Trustair after Tomas mentioned a hunting trip he once went on in that village. She deduced that she must have focused on the wrong location, and then decided that there was no way to resist the pull, which must be coming from either Mat or Perrin. Verin also explains that she received the pictures of him and Perrin from a Darkfriend who mistook her as another servant of the Shadow, and warns him that he is being hunted by them. Mat isn’t really fazed—he has been hunted by the Shadow since before he left Emond’s Field—but Verin warns him not to take this lightly, and to take even more caution than he has up to this point. Verin also tells Mat that she has a price for her aid, which baffles him. She has a sealed letter, which she tells him he must keep for ten days and then open, while still in Caemlyn, and follow the instructions inside. She insists that he won’t find the instructions harsh, but Mat is determined not to let Verin “tie strings” around him, and refuses; he’d rather spend the twenty days marching to Caemlyn than agree to do something before he knows what it is. Verin seems perplexed, and concerned, by this refusal. She offers an alternative: Mat can wait the ten days and then follow the instructions, or he can remain in Caemlyn for fifty days and then burn the letter. She hopes she may be able to return to Caemlyn and retrieve the letter before that fifty day period is up. Mat negotiates down to thirty days; secretly, he’s happy to stay somewhere safe while he researches the Tower of Ghenjei and starts production on Aludra’s dragons. Verin eyed him, a hint of worry on her face. He couldn’t let her know how pleased he was. Let a woman know that, and she’d find some way to make you pay her back.“Thirty days,” Mat said reluctantly, taking her hand, “but at the end of them, I can go.” Verin tells him to begin breaking down camp, as she will be ready to open the gateway shortly. Meanwhile, in Ebou Dar, the new Empress of the Seanchan is formally sending the attack force on its way to Tar Valon. Tuon was dead. Gone, cast aside, forgotten. Tuon had been the Daughter of the Nine Moons. She was now just a notation in the histories.Fortuona was empress. She gives a ritual kiss and ceremonial words to each of the five Bloodknives, whose ring ter’angreal will give them extraordinary abilities but also leech away their life-force. Their mission is to stay behind, regardless of how well the raid goes, and kill as many marath’damane as they can. Lieutenant-General Yulan’s plan is a daring one. Rather than using the raken and to’raken to drop soldiers at a staging area for the raid, the sul’dam and damane would attack from the air, riding the beasts into battle. Fortuona reflects to herself that this could be the beginning of a bold new tactic of warfare, or an incredible disaster. Yulan salutes the Empress, and Selucia responds as Fortuna’s Voice. As the Fists of Heaven move to depart, Fortuona observes to Selucia that this action will turn the Dragon Reborn against them; until now, they have been against him but not the other way around. In Bandar Eban, Rand tells Min that he failed with the Seanchan, and that there will be no peace. She tells him it is alright to be frustrated, but he replies that frustration and anger are pointless. Min sees a vision above Rand’s head of a great mountain, possibly Dragonmount, shrouded in darkness as if by clouds, with one small pinprick of light shining from the heavens down onto the mountain. She has no idea what the vision means, other than knowing that Dragonmount will be important to Rand. Min is very tired. She has been pushing herself to read more, desperate to find some answers to help Rand. It is all she can do, and she has been feeling useless after Semirhage’s attack. Before that, she had come to think of herself as a sort of last line of defense for Rand, but with Semirhage, not only was Min unable to help, she was used as a tool to hurt Rand. As Rand takes up his strange new sword, Min realizes that he is planning to go after Semirhage immediately. Rand tells her that he has to move quickly, before Semirhage finds out what they have learned. He is surprised when she decides to come with him, but doesn’t argue. He also gives her a brief history of Natrin’s Barrow, a fortress that has been turned into a palace over time, a prestigious and beautiful place, close enough to Bandar Eban to give Graendal easy access, but far enough away to be secluded and defensible. In his sitting room, Rand speaks with Ramshalan, the foolish nobleman who turned on Lady Chadmar in an attempt to gain Rand’s favor. As Min and Nynaeve watch, Rand talks about his cunning foe, someone who is smarter than he is, who may slip away if he attacks her fortress but will never face him head-on. He implies that he is turning to Ramshalan because he believes Ramshalan is smarter than Rand, smart enough to come up with a plan. Ramshalan suggests that, if an enemy can’t be defeated, then one should make an alliance. Rand agrees, and tells Ramshalan that he is sending him as an emissary to those Domani lords who have gone into hiding. He opens a gateway, instructing Ramshalan how to find Natrin’s Barrow and to attempt to make an alliance on Rand’s behalf with whoever he finds living there. Nynaeve asks Rand what his game is, but Rand only admits that what he has decided to do frightens him. Rand, Min, and Nynaeve, along with twenty Maidens, go through the gateway and walk until they can see the fortress, which is full of activity and also very beautiful. As they watch the people in the estate go about daily life, Rand admits that he doesn’t expect Graendal to believe his ruse, and that she will get the entire conversation out of Ramshalan’s head and then find a way to use it against Rand. Nynaeve remarks that Rand has sent Ramshalan to die. But Ramshalan does not die, and the Maidens bring him back to Rand after his visit to the fortress. Rand directs Nyneave to see if Graendal’s touch is on the man’s mind, and Nyaneve finds an intricate weave of Compulsion there. As the sun sets, Rand tells Nynaeve and Min about how Callandor has failed him, first when he tried to bring the little girl back to life, and then again when he tried to use it to take on the Seanchan and caused deaths among his own people as well. He explains that, both times he was acting out of emotion. He has decided that he cannot kill in anger, and that each death must be deliberate and intentional. Min and Nynaeve both want to interject, but can’t overcome the dread filling them. As they watch, Rand calls up balefire, and destroys the entirety of the fortress, along with everyone in it. Min can feel some kind of non-physical blast hit her in the aftermath, “as if the world itself were groaning in agony.” It settles, but she has the impression as if “the very substance of the world had been near to breaking.” Both women are horrified by what Rand has done, but when Nynaeve examines Ramshalan again, she finds all traces of Compulsion gone, as if they had never been. Min realizes the man wasn’t used as bait, but rather as a test, so that Rand could prove to himself that Graendal is really dead. Rand tells Ramshalan that he has performed a great service. Rand will forgive Ramshalan boasting to other lords that he could manipulate Rand, and not execute him. Instead he leaves him behind, telling him to walk to the nearest village. Nynaeve argues with Rand for a short time about what he has done, but Rand claims that killing all those people, who would have been under even more intense Compulsion than Kerb, is a mercy. Once Rand has left, Nynaeve admits to Min that she sees the logic in what Rand has done, what he said about his need to be ruthless and cold in order to do what is necessary. Min, however, points out the danger in a savior who doesn’t care about anything but defeating the Dark One, and Nynaeve sees that Min is right. She declares that there is only one thing to do—ally with Cadsuane. They find Cadsuane sitting with the Wise Ones, and although the Aiel try to dismiss Nynaeve, Cadsuane speaks up for her. Min and Nynaeve explain what has happened, and ask to help with Cadsuane’s plan. Cadsuane agrees to include them, if Nynaeve can behave properly and follow orders. Min is surprised when Nynaeve agrees, clearly holding herself back as she is called “child” and told to be quiet during the conversation. Cadsuane orders Nynaeve to find Perrin. I feel like this action on Rand’s part was inevitable, narratively speaking. The concept of balefire and what it can do has been a sort of Checkov’s gun in the story since we the readers came to understand what it is, somewhere between Moiraine’s usage of it on the Darkhound and Rand using it against Rahvin. And from the moment Rand used it in front of Cadsuane and declared that he was no longer letting anyone else tell him what he could or could not do, it was clear that he was going to do something truly terrible with it, sooner or later. Nynaeve’s comment to Min, in which she wondered for a moment if Rand’s hardness and willingness was actually what they needed from him, reminded me of those early uses of balefire, because I saw those as exactly what was needed. Rand and Nynaeve both use balefire instinctively before they even know what it is, or fully understand what it does. And even after they know, balefire has been used in some really important ways and has saved the life of our heroes, especially in the instance of Rand undoing the death of Aviendha and Mat (and Asmodean) by using it on Rahvin, and Mat being saved from a gruesome death via Darkhound slobber, again when Rand used balefire on the beast. (Mat really does have extraordinary good luck, doesn’t he? How many times has he technically died now? Three? Four?) Plus, we saw Moiraine use balefire, in a time of great need, and I trust her judgment on most things. I would also argue that Rand’s use of balefire on Liah was merciful, no matter how much he judges himself for that choice. Given the option of dying by balefire or being consumed by Mashadar, I know which one I would choose. It’s possible I might choose it over living life under Graendal’s compulsion, too. That is, as long as one’s life thread being burned out of the Pattern doesn’t include destroying one’s soul. I don’t think it does, though. That person’s life thread is not entirely destroyed, after all; even the most powerful channelers can only take things back a short way, not years and years. So if that life thread exists in the past, then that soul must continue as well, right? I feel like I need either Herid Fel or Min to explain this to me before I’m completely sure of the metaphysical ground I’m standing on, but I think I’m right. Especially because, when the Dark One mentioned that he was unable to resurrect Rahvin and Be’lal, he says it’s because he can’t “step outside of time,” not because their souls no longer exist. In any case, Rand’s destruction of Natrin’s Barrow, the use of Ramshalan as some kind of test strip, and the resulting damage to the Pattern caused by Rand using balefire on such a large target gives us a perfect example of where the idea of the ends justifying the means takes you. It’s easy to argue that Rand using it on Rahvin and bringing Mat and Aviendha back from the dead was justified, even a moral good. But when you apply that logic to what Rand did in this chapter, it isn’t as easy to justify. Yes, the death of Graendal will save many lives, and spare those already imprisoned by her. It might even improve the Light’s odds of winning the Last Battle. But it also caused damage to the very fabric of reality. How many such uses can the Pattern withstand before it starts unraveling? It would be bad to wreck the fabric of the Pattern at the best of times, but it is already fading and unraveling due to the Dark One’s touch. Making this huge hole might even make it easier for him to reach in and touch things. Even the Forsaken, who care nothing for the world or anyone other than themselves, avoid using it because of how dangerous it is to the fabric of reality. If this felt like the best option to Rand for dealing with Graendal, how many other problems will he decide to deal with in the same way? We see how callously he is treating people like Ramshalan and Lady Chadmar, who aren’t exactly good guys but who are not Evil, as far as we know. Now that Rand has taken this step, what’s to stop him from taking the next one and using balefire on someone like those two, just because he finds them despicable, or annoying, or because they fail him in some small way. What’s to stop him from using it on Cadsuane, or another Aes Sedai he fears is trying to put him in a box? Of course, it makes sense that Rand fears that almost everyone around him, and especially any Aes Sedai, are trying to imprison and control him. But it’s also very telling that he now seems to see every type of cooperation or guidance as a prison someone is trying to put him in. He carries great trauma from his time as a prisoner under Galina and from other times he has been, or believed he was being, controlled or directed by Aes Sedai working their own agenda. But Rand has also been so fixated on the idea that the Last Battle is his responsibility and his alone that I think he has come to see everyone else in the world as little more than a hindrance to that goal. Those he loves are a liability; those who love him are a distraction; those who have spent their lives ruling or guiding the world are tricksters and frauds who want to put a leash on him or hold him back from what he and he alone knows must be done. Rand began this journey by viewing himself as nothing more than a tool, a weapon whose sole purpose is to be used to defeat the Dark One. He then extended that same perspective to the Asha’man. And then he began to see everyone that way. As Min points out, he no longer cares about anything, or anyone—only defeating the Dark One. I have a lot more to say on this matter, but it will be a more complete discussion when we can include some of what Verin says in chapter 39, so I’m going to leave the thought here for now and revisit it later. I will say, however, that while Nynaeve going to Cadsuane is probably good for her and her development as a person and an Aes Sedai, I’m concerned that the choice is going to alienate her from Rand. Rand is so convinced that Cadsuane is trying to hurt him, trying to “put him in a box,” that if he finds out that Nynaeve is in cahoots with Cadsuane, he’ll banish her too. Maybe worse. I’m not sure what he’d think if he knew Min was working with Cadsuane. But I do think that the success of Cadsuane’s plan really hinges on Rand not knowing she was involved at all. And Cadsuane has asked Nynaeve to find Perrin… Oh. Tam is with Perrin. Of course.  Cadsuane thinks Rand needs his dad. I could see that working, actually. If Rand needs to be reminded of the fact that he is more than just a weapon to defeat the Dark One, who better to do that than his father. The man who found him on Dragonmount and took him away to raise him, not as the savior of mankind,but as an ordinary shepherd’s son. Dang, I went and got myself all emotional. I really love Tam, and I hope for both his and Rand’s sake that the reunion goes well. Rand’s is not the only evolution that occurs in these two chapters. Tuon has also changed, leveling up into something more powerful—hopefully not more ruthless, but the attack on the White Tower certainly points to a bold and cutthroat approach to leadership. I don’t think I’d realized that the new name thing the Seanchan do applies to people moving up in station and honor, rather than just down. It’s always felt like such a punishment, something that is done to those who are stripped of rank and made da’covale or to damane in order to make them stop thinking of themselves as autonomous human beings. But in Fortuona, and in the title of chapter 36, we see that rising in station can also result in a new name, in the sense that the person you were before is no more. There is something sad about this, even in the case of rising in status. Not only does Fortuona consider Tuon to be symbolically dead, she reflects that Tuon, the Daughter of the Nine Moons, will be nothing more than a footnote in history. Though she doesn’t explicitly express sadness over this fact (she wouldn’t, as disciplined as she is), there is a sense of regret, or at least of loss, in the thought. From this passage we learn that the Seanchan histories will break Tuon’s life up into different sections, rather than writing a story of her life that goes from birth, through her rise to being the Daughter of the Nine Moons, into her reign and eventual death. Instead, Fortuona, the Empress of the Seanchan, will be written about as her own person. I’m curious about how this way of thinking would affect a person’s sense of self, to have their identity severed from earlier points in their lives. Not that they wouldn’t still think of their past or the lessons they learned growing up, but thinking of your identity as separate would still affect your psyche in some interesting ways, I think. The fact that Tuon is considered metaphorically dead now feels like a reminder of other places where death and mentions of death might be taken as a metaphor rather than literally, such as in Min’s vision that Alivia is going to “help Rand die.” Or the Seanchan prophecy that Rand will “stand on his own grave and weep.” This was actually referenced back in chapter 35, when Tuon considered that people on this side of the ocean seem to have forgotten most of the prophecies and thinks of something called the Essanik Cycle, which is presumably their version of the Karaethon Cycle. I found myself pondering what this prophecy could mean, and if it might be related to Min’s vision about Alivia. It occurred to me that Dragonmount could be considered Lews Therin’s grave, since it marks the spot, and was created when, he committed suicide by drawing too much of the One Power.  The thought occurred to me because of the vision that Min had of Dragonmount over Rand’s head, shadowed in darkness except for one pinprick of light. It’s easy to understand that as a metaphor for Rand’s current situation, the way he has become almost entirely closed off to light and happiness and humanity in his attempts to become strong enough to fight the Dark. But it’s possible that the vision was also showing an actual future. Narratively, it would make sense for Rand to have to revisit Dragonmount, the symbol of Lews Therin’s grief and the failure that led to the Breaking. Except for Rand being born on the slopes of Dragonmount, the mountain has yet to be narratively important, serving as a reminder to everyone of how dangerous the Dragon is as a symbol, but nothing more. It would make sense for it to be used again, as part of a moment of climactic action. I expect that there will be some kind of battle or confrontation on Dragonmount at some point, most likely between Rand and one of the Forsaken, or some other aspect of the Shadow. Or perhaps it will be a confrontation with Lews Therin. After all, Lews Therin’s presence in Rand’s mind is a huge piece of his deteriorating sanity, as well as a contributing factor to his sense of guilt and his grief over his part in bringing about the deaths of others. Rand is going to need to resolve the problem of having Lews Therin in his head, and I think it is going to be soon. It definitely needs to be before the Last Battle. Perhaps there will be some kind of confrontation, or some kind of reconciliation, between Rand and Lews Therin. Perhaps Alivia will have some part in helping get rid of Lews Therin’s consciousness in Rand’s head—in other words “helping him die.” Lews Therin and Rand are the same person after all, the same soul, even though they are different consciousnesses. It’s just a thought, but we’ve had a couple reminders about Dragonmount lately, including Rand using the metaphor of climbing the mountain in order to explain his approach to the task of making it to, and winning, the Last Battle. Speaking of making it to the Last Battle, I think the end of chapter 37 really hits on the perspective problem that everyone, including Rand, has about how to get the Dragon Reborn—and by extension, the world—ready for the Last Battle. I can’t remember if I’ve ever directly said it in any of my posts (I probably have at some point, given how long I’ve been at this) but I’ve always been irked by the way everyone in power, and especially the Aes Sedai, talk about “managing” and “controlling” Rand. Even the word “guiding” is often used in a way that suggests that the one doing the guiding is in total control.  It is easy to see why so many powerful, educated people, particularly the Aes Sedai, who have been interacting with and leading the world for a long time, would feel like their expertise should be leading, even controlling, the Dragon’s actions. They are accustomed to being leaders and generals and the only human beings who could interact with the One Power, after all. They might even be right, if the being the Dragon was merely an inherited title. A regent governing on behalf of the underage heir to a throne should take the future monarch’s desires and opinions into account, but they are there to be in charge because they have experience and knowledge, and, ideally, have served under the previous monarch and know their ruling style. But Rand is not the child of the Dragon who will grow up to be the next Dragon. He is a reincarnated savior, whose very reason for existing is to do the job of fighting the Dark One and protecting the world. He operates differently than other people, and there is no succession, no next in line for the crown to take his place if he dies, or if he becomes unfit for leadership. The metaphysics that Rand is a mythical savior figure has never really been addressed in a way that I found satisfactory. The Dragon is a human, and yet something a little bit more too, and the difference is really unclear. We know he’s more powerful than a normal person, both in channeling ability and in other aspects like ta’veren effects, but even in this, he isn’t exactly different. He’s just… more. In chapter 37, Verin even tells Mat that, other than Rand, he is probably the most powerful ta’veren to have lived in centuries; the fact that they are comparable in this way makes Mat sound more like a peer of Rand than anything. Rand’s ability to pick up weaves or “discover” them isn’t unique either. Many powerful channelers can do the same; he’s just the best at it because he is the most powerful. But what actually makes him different, other than the Pattern’s specific design for him? There has to be something, because ultimately Rand is meant to be the one to do all these things, and that doesn’t really make sense unless he has some kind of divine something in him. All this is to say, the Aes Sedai have been wrong about needing to guide/control him because he is the Dragon Reborn. He was made to do this by the Creator, not born to do it by hereditary accident. The rules are different. In any case, Min really hits the heart of it at the end of chapter 37. Cadsuane keeps thinking that Rand needs to relearn laughter and tears—in other words, relearn how to be a human being—but she doesn’t treat him like a human being. Few people do. Min and Elayne do. Nynaeve kind of does; her bossing Rand around feels very personal, as she was doing it long before anyone suspected he might be the Dragon Reborn.  Min only half-listened. Whatever the plan, someone would need to watch out for Rand. His deed this day would be destroying him inside, no matter what he proclaimed. There were plenty of others worrying about what he would do at the Last Battle. It was her job to get him to that Last Battle alive and sane, with his soul in one piece. More people need to be thinking about this than just Min. Egwene, maybe, if she and Rand can ever find a way back to each other. Although given that Egwene is busy being symbolically more than human herself, maybe not. I should touch on Verin before we end this post, though the really juicy stuff will come next week. Her apparent confusion over Mat’s refusal to agree to follow the letter’s instructions might have been feigned, but if it wasn’t, I think she is underestimating how suspicious her actions are. I can’t see myself agreeing to follow instructions before I knew what they were, either, unless I was making that promise to someone I trusted very deeply, like my spouse or maybe a very close friend. Even putting aside the fear all the men have about being manipulated by the Aes Sedai, I think most people would be on guard in such a situation. I wasn’t sure what to make of her explanation of being “drawn” to Mat, either. It is certainly true that coincidence acts in favor of all ta’veren, and particularly in Mat’s, but the whole thing still seemed a little far fetched. We have never seen a sequence of events like that happen before, certainly. I can’t decide if this is a clue that she is being less than truthful, or just an example of Sanderson writing ta’veren powers slightly differently than Jordan did, like Mat’s more obvious and direct way of controlling the outcome of his dice throws. I’m also desperately curious about what is in the letter, and what is in the other letters Mat spotted in Verin’s bag. Who are those for? Will she return to get the letter from Mat after all, or will he have to decide if he actually wants to open the thing and find out what else destiny, and the machinations of Aes Sedai, have in store for him? We will find out the answer to that next week, as well as where Verin wants to go in such a hurry and what she needs to do when she gets there. Full disclosure: I have already read chapters 38 and 39 and that reveal blew my mind. It must have been so fun for all of you to watch me try to puzzle Verin out. I can’t wait to get into it. Oh, and one more thing. There’s no way Graendal is dead, right? I mean, Rand’s plan with Ramshalan was very clever, but he went on and on about how she is smarter than him, saying that she’ll discover his plan and find some way to use it against him and that he needs to look into her eyes and know he is killing her. He went ahead and assumed his clever plan worked, that she didn’t find a way to use it against him, and that she is dead even though he never saw her die. Rand compared his action to sitting down across from Graendal at a negotiation table and then punching her in the face. But by sitting down first, he gave her a chance to know he was near, and maybe she guessed he was going to punch her in the face. Maybe she set the Compulsion on Ramshalan to dissolve somehow, or maybe someone else put those weaves on him; Graendal could have some Aes Sedai under her control and directed them to do it. No body, no confirmed kill, no matter how clever Rand thinks he is.[end-mark] The post Reading The Wheel of Time: Mat Makes a Pact and Rand Executes a Plan in <i>The Gathering Storm</i> (Part 22) appeared first on Reactor.