The Shadow Rising: Book Four of 'The Wheel of Time'by Robert Jordan
Now in development for TV!
Since its debut in 1990, The Wheel of Time® by Robert Jordan has captivated millions of readers around the globe with its scope, originality, and compelling characters.
The Wheel of Time turns and Ages come and go, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long/p>/b>/b>/b>
Now in development for TV!
Since its debut in 1990, The Wheel of Time® by Robert Jordan has captivated millions of readers around the globe with its scope, originality, and compelling characters.
The Wheel of Time turns and Ages come and go, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth returns again. In the Third Age, an Age of Prophecy, the World and Time themselves hang in the balance. What was, what will be, and what is, may yet fall under the Shadow.
The seals of Shayol Ghul are weak now, and the Dark One reaches out. The Shadow is rising to cover humankind.
In Tar Valon, Min sees portents of hideous doom. Will the White Tower itself be broken?
In the Two Rivers, the Whitecloaks ride in pursuit of a man with golden eyes, and in pursuit of the Dragon Reborn.
In Cantorin, among the Sea Folk, High Lady Suroth plans the return of the Seanchan armies to the mainland.
In the Stone of Tear, the Lord Dragon considers his next move. It will be something no one expects, not the Black Ajah, not Tairen nobles, not Aes Sedai, not Egwene or Elayne or Nynaeve.
Against the Shadow rising stands the Dragon Reborn...
TV series update: "Sony will produce along with Red Eagle Entertainment and Radar Pictures. Rafe Judkins is attached to write and executive produce. Judkins previously worked on shows such as ABC’s “Agents of SHIELD,” the Netflix series “Hemlock Grove,” and the NBC series “Chuck.” Red Eagle partners Rick Selvage and Larry Mondragon will executive produce along with Radar’s Ted Field and Mike Weber. Darren Lemke will also executive produce, with Jordan’s widow Harriet McDougal serving as consulting producer." —Variety
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#1 The Eye of the World
#2 The Great Hunt
#3 The Dragon Reborn
#4 The Shadow Rising
#5 The Fires of Heaven
#6 Lord of Chaos
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#10 Crossroads of Twilight
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By Robert Jordan and Teresa Patterson
The World of Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time
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Patterns of the Wheel: Coloring Art Based on Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time
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The Shadow Rising
By Robert Jordan
Tom Doherty AssociatesCopyright © 1992 The Bandersnatch Group, Inc.
All rights reserved.
Seeds of Shadow
The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose on the great plain called the Caralain Grass. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.
North and east the wind blew beneath early morning sun, over endless miles of rolling grass and far-scattered thickets, across the swift-flowing River Luan, past the broken-topped fang of Dragonmount, mountain of legend towering above the slow swells of the rolling plain, looming so high that clouds wreathed it less than halfway to the smoking peak. Dragonmount, where the Dragon had died — and with him, some said, the Age of Legends — where prophecy said he would be born again. Or had been. North and east, across the villages of Jualdhe and Darein and Alindaer, where bridges like stone lacework arched out to the Shining Walls, the great white walls of what many called the greatest city in the world. Tar Valon. A city just touched by the reaching shadow of Dragonmount each evening.
Within those walls Ogier-made buildings well over two thousand years old seemed to grow out of the ground rather than having been built, or to be the work of wind and water rather than that of even the fabled hands of Ogier stone-masons. Some suggested birds taking flight, or huge shells from distant seas. Soaring towers, flared or fluted or spiraled, stood connected by bridges hundreds of feet in the air, often without rails. Only those long in Tar Valon could avoid gaping like country folk who had never been off the farm.
Greatest of those towers, the White Tower dominated the city, gleaming like polished bone in the sun. The Wheel of Time turns around Tar Valon, so people said in the city, and Tar Valon turns around the Tower. The first sight travelers had of Tar Valon, before their horses came in view of the bridges, before their river boat captains sighted the island, was the Tower reflecting the sun like a beacon. Small wonder then that the great square surrounding the walled Tower grounds seemed smaller than it was under the massive Tower's gaze, the people in it dwindling to insects. Yet the White Tower could have been the smallest in Tar Valon, the fact that it was the heart of Aes Sedai power would still have overawed the island city.
Despite their numbers, the crowd did not come close to filling the square. Along the edges people jostled each other in a milling mass, all going about their day's business, but closer to the Tower grounds there were ever fewer people, until a band of bare paving stones at least fifty paces wide bordered the tall white walls. Aes Sedai were respected and more in Tar Valon, of course, and the Amyrlin Seat ruled the city as she ruled the Aes Sedai, but few wanted to be closer to Aes Sedai power than they had to. There was a difference between being proud of a grand fireplace in your hall and walking into the flames.
A very few did go closer, to the broad stairs that led up to the Tower itself, to the intricately carved doors wide enough for a dozen people abreast. Those doors stood open, welcoming. There were always some people in need of aid or an answer they thought only Aes Sedai could give, and they came from far as often as near, from Arafel and Ghealdan, from Saldaea and Illian. Many would find help or guidance inside, though often not what they had expected or hoped for.
Min kept the wide hood of her cloak pulled up, shadowing her face in its depths. In spite of the warmth of the day, the garment was light enough not to attract comment, not on a woman so obviously shy. And a good many people were shy when they went to the Tower. There was nothing about her to attract notice. Her dark hair was longer than when she was last in the Tower, though still not quite to her shoulders, and her dress, plain blue except for narrow bands of white Jaerecruz lace at neck and wrists, would have suited the daughter of a well-to-do farmer, wearing her feastday best to the Tower just like the other women approaching the wide stairs. Min hoped she looked the same, at least. She had to stop herself from staring at them to see if they walked or held themselves differently. I can do it, she told herself.
She had certainly not come all this way to turn back now. The dress was a good disguise. Those who remembered her in the Tower remembered a young woman with close-cropped hair, always in a boy's coat and breeches, never in a dress. It had to be a good disguise. She had no choice about what she was doing. Not really.
Her stomach fluttered the closer she came to the Tower, and she tightened her grip on the bundle clutched to her breast. Her usual clothes were in there, and her good boots, and all her possessions except the horse she had left at an inn not far from the square. With luck, she would be back on the gelding in a few hours, riding for the Ostrein Bridge and the road south.
She was not really looking forward to climbing onto a horse again so soon, not after weeks in the saddle with never a day's pause, but she longed to leave this place. She had never seen the White Tower as hospitable, and right now it seemed nearly as awful as the Dark One's prison at Shayol Ghul. Shivering, she wished she had not thought of the Dark One. I wonder if Moiraine thinks I came just because she asked me? The Light help me, acting like a fool girl. Doing fool things because of a fool man!
She mounted the stairs uneasily — each was deep enough to take two strides for her to reach the next — and unlike most of the others, she did not pause for an awed stare up the pale height of the Tower. She wanted this over.
Inside, archways almost surrounded the large, round entry hall, but the petitioners huddled in the middle of the chamber, shuffling together beneath a flat-domed ceiling. The pale stone floor had been worn and polished by countless nervous feet over the centuries. No one thought of anything except where they were, and why. A farmer and his wife in rough woolens, clutching each other's callused hands, rubbed shoulders with a merchant in velvet- slashed silks, a maid at her heels clutching a small worked-silver casket, no doubt her mistress's gift for the Tower. Elsewhere, the merchant would have stared down her nose at farm folk who brushed so close, and they might well have knuckled their foreheads and backed away apologizing. Not now. Not here.
There were few men among the petitioners, which was no surprise to Min. Most men were nervous around Aes Sedai. Everyone knew it had been male Aes Sedai, when there still had been male Aes Sedai, who were responsible for the Breaking of the World. Three thousand years had not dimmed that memory, even if time had altered many of the details. Children were still frightened by tales of men who could channel the One Power, men doomed to go mad from the Dark One's taint on saidin, the male half of the True Source. Worst was the story of Lews Therin Telamon, the Dragon, Lews Therin Kinslayer, who had begun the Breaking. For that matter, the stories frightened adults, too. Prophecy said the Dragon would be born again in mankind's greatest hour of need, to fight the Dark One in Tarmon Gai'don, the Last Battle, but that made little difference in how most people looked at any connection between men and the Power. Any Aes Sedai would hunt down a man who could channel, now; of the seven Ajahs, the Red did little else.
Of course, none of that had anything to do with seeking help from Aes Sedai, yet few men felt easy about being linked in any way to Aes Sedai and the Power. Few, that is, except Warders, but each Warder was bonded to an Aes Sedai; Warders could hardly be taken for the general run of men. There was a saying: "A man will cut off his own hand to get rid of a splinter before asking help from Aes Sedai." Women meant it as a comment on men's stubborn foolishness, but Min had heard some men say the loss of a hand might be the better decision.
She wondered what these people would do if they knew what she knew. Run screaming, perhaps. And if they knew her reason for being here, she might not survive to be taken up by the Tower guards and thrown into a cell. She did have friends in the Tower, but none with power or influence. If her purpose was discovered, it was much less likely that they could help her than that she would pull them to the gallows or the headsman behind her. That was saying she lived to be tried, of course; more likely her mouth would be stopped permanently long before a trial.
She told herself to stop thinking like that. I'll make it in, and I'll make it out. The Light burn Rand al'Thor for getting me into this!
Three or four Accepted, women Min's age or perhaps a little older, were circulating through the round room, speaking softly to the petitioners. Their white dresses had no decoration except for seven bands of color at the hem, one band for each Ajah. Now and again a novice, a still younger woman or girl all in white, came to lead someone deeper into the Tower. The petitioners always followed the novices with an odd mix of excited eagerness and foot-dragging reluctance.
Min's grip tightened on her bundle as one of the Accepted stopped in front of her. "The Light illumine you," the curly-haired woman said perfunctorily. "I am called Faolain. How may the Tower help you?"
Faolain's dark, round face held the patience of someone doing a tedious job when she would rather be doing something else. Studying, probably, from what Min knew of the Accepted. Learning to be Aes Sedai. Most important, however, was the lack of recognition in the Accepted's eyes; the two of them had met when Min was in the Tower before, though only briefly.
Just the same, Min lowered her face in assumed diffidence. It was not unnatural; a good many country folk did not really understand the great step up from Accepted to full Aes Sedai. Shielding her features behind the edge of her cloak, she looked away from Faolain.
"I have a question I must ask the Amyrlin Seat," she began, then cut off abruptly as three Aes Sedai stopped to look into the entry hall, two from one archway and one from another.
Accepted and novices curtsied when their rounds took them close to one of the Aes Sedai, but otherwise went on about their tasks, perhaps a trifle more briskly. That was all. Not so for the petitioners. They seemed to catch their breaths all together. Away from the White Tower, away from Tar Valon, they might simply have thought the Aes Sedai three women whose ages they could not guess, three women in the flush of their prime, yet with more maturity than their smooth cheeks suggested. In the Tower, though, there was no question. A woman who had worked very long with the One Power was not touched by time in the same way as other women. In the Tower, no one needed to see a golden Great Serpent ring to know an Aes Sedai.
A ripple of curtsies spread through the huddle, and jerky bows from the few men. Two or three people even fell to their knees. The rich merchant looked frightened; the farm couple at her side stared at legends come to life. How to deal with Aes Sedai was a matter of hearsay for most; it was unlikely that any here, except those who actually lived in Tar Valon, had seen an Aes Sedai before, and probably not even the Tar Valoners had been this close.
But it was not the Aes Sedai themselves that halted Min's tongue. Sometimes, not often, she saw things when she looked at people, images and auras that usually flared and were gone in moments. Occasionally she knew what they meant. It happened rarely, the knowing — much more rarely than the seeing, even — but when she knew, she was always right.
Unlike most others, Aes Sedai — and their Warders — always had images and auras, sometimes so many dancing and shifting that they made Min dizzy. The numbers made no difference in interpreting them, though; she knew what they meant for Aes Sedai as seldom as for anyone else. But this time she knew more than she wanted to, and it made her shiver.
A slender woman with black hair falling to her waist, the only one of the three she recognized — her name was Ananda; she was Yellow Ajah — wore a sickly brown halo, shriveled and split by rotting fissures that fell in and widened as they decayed. The small, fair-haired Aes Sedai beside Ananda was Green Ajah, by her green-fringed shawl. The White Flame of Tar Valon on it showed for a moment when she turned her back. And on her shoulder, as if nestled among the grape vines and flowering apple branches worked on her shawl, sat a human skull. A small woman's skull, picked clean and sun-bleached. The third, a plumply pretty woman halfway around the room, wore no shawl; most Aes Sedai did not except for ceremony. The lift of her chin and the set of her shoulders spoke of strength and pride. She seemed to be casting cool blue eyes on the petitioners through a tattered curtain of blood, crimson streamers running down her face.
Blood and skull and halo faded away in the dance of images around the three, came and faded again. The petitioners stared in awe, seeing only three women who could touch the True Source and channel the One Power. No one but Min saw the rest. No one but Min knew those three women were going to die. All on the same day.
"The Amyrlin cannot see everyone," Faolain said with poorly hidden impatience. "Her next public audience is not for ten days. Tell me what you want, and I will arrange for you to see the sister who can best help you."
Min's eye flew to the bundle in her arms and stayed there, partly so she would not have to see again what she had already seen. All three of them! Light! What chance was there that three Aes Sedai would die on the same day? But she knew. She knew.
"I have the right to speak to the Amyrlin Seat. In person." It was a right seldom demanded — who would dare? — but it existed. "Any woman has that right, and I ask it."
"Do you think the Amyrlin Seat herself can see everyone who comes to the White Tower? Surely another Aes Sedai can help you." Faolain gave heavy weight to the titles as if to overpower Min. "Now tell me what your question is about. And give me your name, so the novice will know who to come for."
"My name is ... Elmindreda." Min winced in spite of herself. She had always hated the name, but the Amyrlin was one of the few people living who had ever heard it. If only she remembered. "I have the right to speak to the Amyrlin. And my question is for her alone. I have the right."
The Accepted arched an eyebrow. "Elmindreda?" Her mouth twitched toward an amused smile. "And you claim your rights. Very well. I will send word to the Keeper of the Chronicles that you wish to see the Amyrlin Seat personally, Elmindreda."
Min wanted to slap the woman for the way she emphasized "Elmindreda," but instead she forced out a murmured "Thank you."
"Do not thank me yet. No doubt it will be hours before the Keeper finds time to reply, and it will certainly be that you can ask your question at the Mother's next public audience. Wait with patience. Elmindreda." She gave Min a tight smile, almost a smirk, as she turned away.
Grinding her teeth, Min took her bundle to stand against the wall between two of the archways, where she tried to blend into the pale stonework. Trust no one, and avoid notice until you reach the Amyrlin, Moiraine had told her. Moiraine was one Aes Sedai she did trust. Most of the time. It was good advice in any case. All she had to do was reach the Amyrlin, and it would be over. She could don her own clothes again, see her friends, and leave. No more need for hiding.
She was relieved to see that the Aes Sedai had gone. Three Aes Sedai dying on one day. It was impossible; that was the only word. Yet it was going to happen. Nothing she said or did could change it — when she knew what an image meant, it happened — but she had to tell the Amyrlin about this. It might even be as important as the news she brought from Moiraine, though that was hard to believe.
Excerpted from The Shadow Rising by Robert Jordan. Copyright © 1992 The Bandersnatch Group, Inc.. Excerpted by permission of Tom Doherty Associates.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Meet 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 twelve-years-older brother, and was tackling Mark Twain and Jules Verne by five. He is 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 has also written dance and theater criticism and enjoyed the outdoor sports of hunting, fishing, and sailing, and the indoor sports of poker, chess, pool, and pipe collecting.
Robert Jordan began writing in 1977 and went on to write The Wheel of Time®, one of the most important and best selling series in the history of fantasy publishing with over 14 million copies sold in North America, and countless more sold abroad.
Robert Jordan died on September 16, 2007, after a courageous battle with the rare blood disease amyloidosis.
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 twelve-years-older brother, and was tackling Mark Twain and Jules Verne by five. He is 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 has also written dance and theater criticism and enjoyed the outdoor sports of hunting, fishing, and sailing, and the indoor sports of poker, chess, pool, and pipe collecting. Robert Jordan began writing in 1977 and went on to write The Wheel of Time®, one of the most important and best selling series in the history of fantasy publishing with over 14 million copies sold in North America, and countless more sold abroad. Robert Jordan died on September 16, 2007, after a courageous battle with the rare blood disease amyloidosis.
- Date of Birth:
- October 17, 1948
- Date of Death:
- September 16, 2007
- Place of Birth:
- Charleston, South Carolina
- Place of Death:
- Charleston, South Carolina
- B.S. in physics, The Citadel, 1974
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
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I LOVE this series. The characters are alive and interesting, the action is intense, and it just never ends. Definitely worth reading. That said, I really can't understand why the ebook costs as much as a paperback. There's no ink or paper, no shipping, nothing that would hike the price. Sure, someone has to type it out, but it shouldn't be just as expensive.
I truly did love this book, but there were some parts that got a little long and boring and i seriously think that Robert Jordan has some bad experiences with women. Overall, though, the plot was great and i look forward to reading the next book
I've read books 1 - 6, and I think this is the best one. Book 5 was a bit slower than the first four, and 6 was even more so. I'm taking a break from the series for a while, but I plan on finishing it eventually.
Amazingly well written, the novel is excellent in a way as it weaves the picture of two times, present and past. I am a lover of history novel and this was right up my way. With the twists and turns and anxiety about whats going to happen next, this book had me hooked. I just could not put it down. The book handles a delicate subject matter with great ease. I strongly recommend every mystery lover to get this book. It will keep you up whole night reading it but you will never regret it.
I have read every book in this series at least twice, some more than 4 times. I love this series despite how obnoxious many of the female lead characters get. This book was my favorite by far, mainly due to Perrins side of the story and his return to the two rivers to defend it. I dont think I have ever been more emotionally involved during a battle seen then the final attack on emonds field. It is one of the greatest moments in the whole series. Brandon Sanderson will be completing the final book, GOOD LUCK.
Very good series. If you like Lord of the Rings type story lines, this is a good series for you.
I would tend to agree with other reviewers that this is one of the better books. Each characters story was interesting and well written. At 940 pages it was worth the money. On to the the next book The Fires of Heaven. (only 868 pages)
This is the fourth book in the best series that I have ever read. I'd recommend reading the series in order to fully understand everything that is going on because there is a lot of plot and it all seams to tie in together. The first book is called The Eye of the World, in case you are wondering. The series is great for many reasons. At this time I have read all of the books in the series except the final book, which hasn't come out yet. All of them flow wonderfully and while at some points things may happen in a way that disappoints you, it always turns around to be better than you could have imagined. He writes from each of the many characters with great detail that makes you connect with that character and makes you understand why they are doing what they are doing. One of the best qualities about this series is it's scope. He is telling a story that takes place all across this unique world, and to new worlds, dimensions and realities. Not only that but this is the story of the last battle between good and evil that has taken place since the beginning of time. And while describing this conflict he gives us glimpses into several of the key events that have happened, and needed to happen in order for this stage to be set. In conclusion, this is one of the best books that I have ever read.
At least I wont have to wait on the edge of my seat for the next book!!! (Unlike another series I've give up on. 15 years between books is just wayyy too long Jean Auel.) I Love the complexity of the characters and the storyline and how they keep growing in each book. I also love that I dont have to reread 20 chapters of the same stuff Ive already read in all the previous books in the series!! Cant tell you how annoying that is, usually turns me of a series when they do that. The Shadow Rising was the best and most complex, so far! Hopefully it just keeps getting better and better, like a good series should!
When is nynaeve just going to take a chill pill. Loving this series but nynaeve has to go soon. Right people???
If you read three books before this one you are alredy hooked! The books only get more epic in scope from this point on. So go on and buy this you know you want it!
The storyline keeps developing which is great. Jordan has started answering some questions that I've since book 1, even though he introduces more questions. I find this ok, as long as he's answering other questions as we go along. The storyline is straight forward instead of having plot twists in the middle of the book, which is helpful as I've become tired with the last three books due to "mental whiplash". Great story!
The Robert Jordon series of Wheel of Time is a great read, I highly recommend it to all who love storys of the same realm of Lord of the rings.
I cannot put this series down. For every Zig there is a zag. Full rich Characters. Great escape!
Remember the days when the Wheel of Time was printed in small type with small margins and little line spacing? When the timeline was moving at a pace that could be measured in weeks or months instead of hours? Well, if you have a hard time remembering any of those things, pick up The Shadow Rising, one of the last truly great Wheel of Time books. Now, as much fun as I'm having at the series's expense, I did enjoy the rest of the series and think that the most recent book, Knife of Dreams, was the best book in the series for a long time. However, The Shadow Rising is one of the last that really cooks. From the story of Emond's Field and Perrin to Rand and company's journey through the Aiel Waste there is tons of adventure, tons of answers, and tons of new questions. We see the Aelfinn and the Eelfinn for the first time, we see some of the Forsaken in greater detail, we learn the history of the Aiel (a fantastic sequence, perhaps the best moment of the series so far), we meet a whole host of new characters that are interesting, and by the end of the book we've finally taken care of a nagging problem: How is Rand going to get better at yielding saidin? Plot aside, Jordan is really at the top of his form in this novel, weaving enticing story lines without getting too lost in the details. As I said at the beginning, I'm still a fan of the series as a whole and would recommend it to anyone who enjoys fantasy fiction, but be warned, the next book is the end of the fast pace and from there they just continue to slow down until Knife of Dreams.
Some people thought Jordan put too much into the whole Aiel customs and history thing. I thought he did a wonderful job. The three girls, Egwene, Nynaeve and Elayne kind of disappointed me. Egwene is becoming a snob, Elayne's already a snob, but Nynaeve's just a little frustrated. I can't believe they overthrew Siuan...And Elaida is now the Amyrlin? This book was a page-turning like the rest of them...
My review today is for The Shadow Rising: Book Four of ‘The Wheel of Time’ by Robert Jordan. I find it hard to review these books. How do you review books that are Fantasy classics? These are books that everybody already knows are good. I find it difficult to express how great these books are. I mean besides Lord of the Rings this has to be considered the best classic Epic Fantasy right? Well I guess I will just take it book by book and see what happens. This is yet another great book in this series. What a wonderful story. Awesome characters. The worldbuilding is just fantastic. Robert Jordan deserves his reputation as the outstanding author he was. This series deserves it’s place near the top of all epic fantasy. The adventures of Rand, Perrin, and Mat are truly epic. Classic fantasy at it’s best. You have reluctant heroes, Dark powers, magic, diverse people, and great battles. I said in my last review that if there was any downside to that last book It was the lack of Rand, Mat, and Perrin and To much Aes Sedai. Thankfully that seemed to be just that book. I guess it is just harder for me to relate to the female characters, I don’t know, but when there is to much Aes Sedai I seem to start tuning out. A good balance in the characters definitely works best for me. The only regret I have with this book, and the series is that I did not read it sooner! I can see now that I am going to be obsessed with this series. I finally know what all the hype was about from all the WoT fans out there. Now I am one of you. Now if I can just read the whole series this year (I am already behind). On to The Fires of Heaven. 4/5 Stars - mightythorjrs