class TZInfo::Country
The {Country} class represents an ISO 3166-1 country. It can be used to obtain a list of time zones observed by a country. For example:
united_states = Country.get('US') united_states.zone_identifiers united_states.zones united_states.zone_info
The {Country} class is thread-safe. It is safe to use class and instance methods of {Country} in concurrently executing threads. Instances of {Country} can be shared across thread boundaries.
Country
information available through TZInfo
is intended as an aid for users, to help them select time zone data appropriate for their practical needs. It is not intended to take or endorse any position on legal or territorial claims.
Public Class Methods
Loads a {Country} from the serialized representation returned by {_dump}. This is method is called when using `Marshal.load` or `Marshal.restore` to restore a serialized {Country}.
@param data [String] a serialized representation of a {Country}. @return [Country] the result of converting `data` back into a {Country}.
# File lib/tzinfo/country.rb, line 204 def self._load(data) Country.get(data) end
@return [Array<Country>] an `Array` containing one {Country} instance
for each defined country.
# File lib/tzinfo/country.rb, line 52 def all data_source.country_codes.collect {|code| get(code)} end
@return [Array<String>] an `Array` containing all the valid ISO 3166-1
alpha-2 country codes.
# File lib/tzinfo/country.rb, line 46 def all_codes data_source.country_codes end
Gets a {Country} by its ISO 3166-1 alpha-2 code.
The {Country.all_codes} method can be used to obtain a list of valid ISO 3166-1 alpha-2 codes.
@param code [String] An ISO 3166-1 alpha-2 code. @return [Country] a {Country} instance representing the ISO-3166-1
country identified by the `code` parameter.
@raise [InvalidCountryCode] If {code} is not a valid ISO 3166-1 alpha-2
code it couldn't be found.
# File lib/tzinfo/country.rb, line 40 def get(code) Country.new(data_source.get_country_info(code)) end
Initializes a new {Country} based upon a {DataSources::CountryInfo} instance.
{Country} instances should not normally be constructed directly. Use the {Country.get} method to obtain instances instead.
@param info [DataSources::CountryInfo] the data to base the new {Country}
instance upon.
# File lib/tzinfo/country.rb, line 72 def initialize(info) @info = info end
Private Class Methods
@return [DataSource] the current DataSource
.
# File lib/tzinfo/country.rb, line 59 def data_source DataSource.get end
Public Instance Methods
Compares this {Country} with another based on their {code}.
@param c [Object] an `Object` to compare this {Country} with. @return [Integer] -1 if `c` is less than `self`, 0 if `c` is equal to
`self` and +1 if `c` is greater than `self`, or `nil` if `c` is not an instance of {Country}.
# File lib/tzinfo/country.rb, line 162 def <=>(c) return nil unless c.is_a?(Country) code <=> c.code end
Matches `regexp` against the {code} of this {Country}.
@param regexp [Regexp] a `Regexp` to match against the {code} of
this {Country}.
@return [Integer] the position the match starts, or `nil` if there is no
match.
# File lib/tzinfo/country.rb, line 185 def =~(regexp) regexp =~ code end
Returns a serialized representation of this {Country}. This method is called when using `Marshal.dump` with an instance of {Country}.
@param limit [Integer] the maximum depth to dump - ignored. @return [String] a serialized representation of this {Country}.
# File lib/tzinfo/country.rb, line 194 def _dump(limit) code end
@return [String] the ISO 3166-1 alpha-2 country code.
# File lib/tzinfo/country.rb, line 77 def code @info.code end
@param c [Object] an `Object` to compare this {Country} with. @return [Boolean] `true` if `c` is an instance of {Country} and has the
same code as `self`, otherwise `false`.
# File lib/tzinfo/country.rb, line 170 def eql?(c) self == c end
@return [Integer] a hash based on the {code}.
# File lib/tzinfo/country.rb, line 175 def hash code.hash end
@return [String] the internal object state as a programmer-readable
`String`.
# File lib/tzinfo/country.rb, line 94 def inspect "#<#{self.class}<EMAIL_ADDRESS>end
@return [String] the name of the country.
# File lib/tzinfo/country.rb, line 82 def name @info.name end
@return [String] a `String` representation of this {Country} (the name of
the country).
# File lib/tzinfo/country.rb, line 88 def to_s name end
Returns an `Array` containing the identifier for each time zone observed by the country. These are in an order that
-
makes some geographical sense, and
-
puts the most populous zones first, where that does not contradict 1.
Returned zone identifiers may refer to cities and regions outside of the country. This will occur if the zone covers multiple countries. Any zones referring to a city or region in a different country will be listed after those relating to this country.
@return [Array<String>] an `Array` containing the identifier for each time
zone observed by the country
# File lib/tzinfo/country.rb, line 111 def zone_identifiers zone_info.map(&:identifier) end
Returns a frozen `Array` containing a {CountryTimezone} instance for each time zone observed by the country. These are in an order that
-
makes some geographical sense, and
-
puts the most populous zones first, where that does not contradict 1.
The {CountryTimezone} instances can be used to obtain the location and descriptions of the observed time zones.
Identifiers and descriptions of the time zones returned may refer to cities and regions outside of the country. This will occur if the time zone covers multiple countries. Any zones referring to a city or region in a different country will be listed after those relating to this country.
@return [Array<CountryTimezone>] a frozen `Array` containing a
{CountryTimezone} instance for each time zone observed by the country.
# File lib/tzinfo/country.rb, line 152 def zone_info @info.zones end
Returns An `Array` containing a {Timezone} instance for each time zone observed by the country. These are in an order that
-
makes some geographical sense, and
-
puts the most populous zones first, where that does not contradict 1.
The identifiers of the time zones returned may refer to cities and regions outside of the country. This will occur if the time zone covers multiple countries. Any zones referring to a city or region in a different country will be listed after those relating to this country.
The results are actually instances of {TimezoneProxy} in order to defer loading of the time zone transition data until it is first needed.
@return [Array<Timezone>] an `Array` containing a {Timezone} instance for
each time zone observed by the country.
# File lib/tzinfo/country.rb, line 132 def zones zone_info.map(&:timezone) end


When a content container requires actions, place them in a toolbar. Only use toolbars in lists, below the page summaries on record pages, or in tiles. Toolbars are not appropriate in any other situations.
The list toolbar appears above a list of records. It contains actions to manipulate the contents of the list. Place frequently used actions directly in the toolbar, and place less-frequently used actions in a more actions menu. When multiple views of the list are available, the view switcher is docked on the right side of the toolbar.
The record toolbar appears below the page summary on record pages. It contains actions to manipulate the record. Place frequently used actions directly in the toolbar, and place less-frequently used actions in a more actions menu. Actions to collapse and expand all tiles on the record are docked on the right side of the toolbar.
The tile toolbar appears in a tile above the control it affects. It contains actions to manipulate the contents of the tile or a portion of the tile. Only place the most important actions directly in the toolbar because tiles have limited horizontal real estate. Place all other actions in a more actions menu. If a tile requires no more than two filters, the filters should be docked on the right side of the toolbar.
Toolbars won't always need every possible button, but when present, buttons should be in the expected locations. Standard actions should appear from left to right in the following order when present in a toolbar:
Place less important or less-frequently used actions in a more actions menu. And when horizontal space in a toolbar is insufficient for all actions, standard actions should collapse into the more actions menu.
When a toolbar includes a search component, it should follow the actions and more actions button. The search field is aligned with the action buttons, so if a user has a really large monitor resolution, the field appears on the left side of the screen.
The view section is on the right side of the toolbar. It is reserved for items that substantially change or affect the view of the rest of the content container. The items in a view section largely depend on how the toolbar is used. If the view section includes more than one item, they appear from left to right in the following order.
The actions in a toolbar (including the more actions button) shouldn't extend beyond 50% of the screen. If the actions would extend beyond 50% of the screen, the rightmost action should collapse into the more actions menu.
Don't do this; the toolbar has too many visible actions:
Do this instead, moving the rightmost action into the more actions menu:
If a toolbar doesn't include a more actions menu and the actions extend beyond 50% of the screen, create a more actions menu for the two rightmost actions.
Don't do this; the toolbar has too many visible actions even without a more actions menu:
Do this instead, moving the two rightmost actions into a more actions menu:
On small screens, action buttons should switch to icon-only buttons, the search field should collapse into a search icon, and the view switcher should collapse into a single icon. Buttons without icons should go in the more actions menu, and the more actions button, view switcher, and any other buttons with dropdowns should display their options when pressed.


Gag Order
by BRIEFMANHATTAN — The Kobre & Kim law office sued the Commodity Futures Trading Commission in federal court for information on its allegedly illegal gag order about a $16 million fine against Kraft Foods for manipulating commodities markets.
Copyright © 2019 courthousenews.com


public final class InputUtils
extends java.lang.Object
| Modifier | Constructor and Description |
|---|---|
private |
InputUtils() |
| Modifier and Type | Method and Description |
|---|---|
static javax.usb.UsbInterface |
claimUsbInterface(javax.usb.UsbDevice device,
int configuration)
Claims an interface for the specified device.
|
static javax.usb.UsbInterface |
claimUsbInterface(javax.usb.UsbDevice device,
int configuration,
javax.usb.UsbInterfacePolicy policy)
Claims an interface for the specified device.
|
static int |
getPercentage(int a,
int b)
Returns the percentage of the first number divided by the second number
as a whole int.
|
static javax.usb.UsbDevice[] |
getSystemUsbs()
Returns all of the USB devices connected to the system.
|
static javax.usb.UsbDevice |
getUsbDevice(int vendor,
int product)
Returns the first device found with the specified vendor and product ID.
|
static javax.usb.UsbDevice[] |
getUsbDevices(int vendor,
int product)
Returns all of the devices found with the specified vendor and product
ID.
|
static javax.usb.UsbDevice[] |
getUsbs(javax.usb.UsbHub hub)
Returns all of the USB devices connected to the specified hub.
|
static boolean |
isSteamRunning()
Checks if Steam executables are running.
|
static javax.usb.UsbPipe |
openPipe(javax.usb.UsbInterface iface,
int endpoint)
Opens an endpoint pipe for the specified interface.
|
static byte[] |
readData(javax.usb.UsbPipe pipe,
int length)
Reads data the specified amount of data from a pipe.
|
static void |
readDataAsync(javax.usb.UsbPipe pipe,
int length)
Reads data the specified amount of data from a pipe asynchronously.
|
static void |
sendData(javax.usb.UsbPipe pipe,
byte... data)
Sends data to the specified pipe.
|
static void |
sendDataAsync(javax.usb.UsbPipe pipe,
byte... data)
Sends data to the specified pipe asynchronously.
|
public static int getPercentage(int a, int b)
a
- the first number.b
- the second number to divide the first number by.public static boolean isSteamRunning()
true
if any Steam executables are running.public static final javax.usb.UsbDevice[] getSystemUsbs() throws java.lang.SecurityException, javax.usb.UsbException
UsbDevice[]
.java.lang.SecurityException
- thrown if an error related to security occurs.javax.usb.UsbException
- thrown if an error related to USB devices occurs.public static final javax.usb.UsbDevice[] getUsbs(javax.usb.UsbHub hub)
hub
- the USB hub.UsbDevice[]
.public static final javax.usb.UsbDevice getUsbDevice(int vendor, int product) throws java.lang.SecurityException, javax.usb.UsbException
vendor
- the vendor id.product
- the product id.null
if no device was
found.java.lang.SecurityException
- thrown if an error related to security occurs.javax.usb.UsbException
- thrown if an error related to USB devices occurs.public static final javax.usb.UsbDevice[] getUsbDevices(int vendor, int product) throws java.lang.SecurityException, javax.usb.UsbException
vendor
- the vendor id.product
- the product id.UsbDevice
,
null
if no device was found.java.lang.SecurityException
- thrown if an error related to security occurs.javax.usb.UsbException
- thrown if an error related to USB devices occurs.public static final javax.usb.UsbInterface claimUsbInterface(javax.usb.UsbDevice device, int configuration, javax.usb.UsbInterfacePolicy policy) throws javax.usb.UsbClaimException, javax.usb.UsbNotActiveException, javax.usb.UsbDisconnectedException, javax.usb.UsbException
device
- the device.configuration
- the configuration.policy
- the claim policy.javax.usb.UsbClaimException
- thrown if there was an error when claiming the device.javax.usb.UsbNotActiveException
- thrown if the device is not active.javax.usb.UsbDisconnectedException
- thrown if the device is disconnected.javax.usb.UsbException
- thrown if an error related to USB devices occurs.public static final javax.usb.UsbInterface claimUsbInterface(javax.usb.UsbDevice device, int configuration) throws javax.usb.UsbClaimException, javax.usb.UsbNotActiveException, javax.usb.UsbDisconnectedException, javax.usb.UsbException
device
- the device.configuration
- the configuration.javax.usb.UsbClaimException
- thrown if there was an error when claiming the device.javax.usb.UsbNotActiveException
- thrown if the device is not active.javax.usb.UsbDisconnectedException
- thrown if the device is disconnected.javax.usb.UsbException
- thrown if an error related to USB devices occurs.public static final javax.usb.UsbPipe openPipe(javax.usb.UsbInterface iface, int endpoint) throws javax.usb.UsbNotActiveException, javax.usb.UsbNotClaimedException, javax.usb.UsbDisconnectedException, javax.usb.UsbException
iface
- the interface.endpoint
- the endpoint.javax.usb.UsbNotActiveException
- thrown if the device is not active.javax.usb.UsbNotClaimedException
- thrown if the device is not claimed.javax.usb.UsbDisconnectedException
- thrown if the device is disconnected.javax.usb.UsbException
- thrown if an error related to USB devices occurs.public static final void sendData(javax.usb.UsbPipe pipe, byte... data) throws javax.usb.UsbNotActiveException, javax.usb.UsbNotOpenException, javax.usb.UsbDisconnectedException, javax.usb.UsbException
pipe
- the pipe to send the data to.data
- the data to send.javax.usb.UsbNotActiveException
- thrown if the device is not active.javax.usb.UsbNotOpenException
- thrown if the device is not open.javax.usb.UsbDisconnectedException
- thrown if the device is disconnected.javax.usb.UsbException
- thrown if an error related to USB devices occurs.public static final void sendDataAsync(javax.usb.UsbPipe pipe, byte... data) throws javax.usb.UsbNotActiveException, javax.usb.UsbNotOpenException, javax.usb.UsbDisconnectedException, javax.usb.UsbException
pipe
- the pipe to send the data to.data
- the data to send.javax.usb.UsbNotActiveException
- thrown if the device is not active.javax.usb.UsbNotOpenException
- thrown if the device is not open.javax.usb.UsbDisconnectedException
- thrown if the device is disconnected.javax.usb.UsbException
- thrown if an error related to USB devices occurs.public static final byte[] readData(javax.usb.UsbPipe pipe, int length) throws javax.usb.UsbNotActiveException, javax.usb.UsbNotOpenException, javax.usb.UsbDisconnectedException, javax.usb.UsbException
pipe
- the pipe to read from.length
- the amount of bytes to read.javax.usb.UsbNotActiveException
- thrown if the device is not active.javax.usb.UsbNotOpenException
- thrown if the device is not open.javax.usb.UsbDisconnectedException
- thrown if the device is not connected.javax.usb.UsbException
- thrown if an error related to USB devices occurs.public static final void readDataAsync(javax.usb.UsbPipe pipe, int length) throws javax.usb.UsbNotActiveException, javax.usb.UsbNotOpenException, javax.usb.UsbDisconnectedException, javax.usb.UsbException
UsbPipeListener
must be used.pipe
- the pipe to read from.length
- the amount of bytes to read.javax.usb.UsbNotActiveException
- thrown if the device is not active.javax.usb.UsbNotOpenException
- thrown if the device is not open.javax.usb.UsbDisconnectedException
- thrown if the device is not connected.javax.usb.UsbException
- thrown if an error related to USB devices occurs.


{% load macros %} {% load blog_extras %} {# blog_back_to_all macro. Defines a link that goes back to the page with all posts #} {% macro blog_back_to_all %}
{% endmacro %} {# blog_post macro. Requires that post already be a Post object and that this macro be called in a


Our mission with BookR is to help you find the books you need and want with ease. BookR's seach engine and user review system allows you to see which titles are worth picking up and available at a glance.
Nick Ballenger - Project Lead
Logan Reber - User Interface
Matthew Cebenka - User Interface
Kimberly Swinton - Backend
William Brooks - Backend
Allison Donnelly - Senior Frontend
Jamea Kidrick - Frontend
Kevin Nguyen - Frontend
Liam Sutton - Frontend


Select Rule
Add New Rule
Run Rule
If
Save
Update Rule
Then Action
First Action
Second Action
Third Action
Preview


No Frames
- Why a font editor, aren't there enough fonts already?
- Why doesn't fontforge use the native MS Windows or Mac windowing system?
- Is it legal to modify a font? Is it ethical?
- What is a 12 point font?
- How do I set the line spacing on a font?
- How big will my glyphs be?
- What's a good license to use on an open source font?
- How do I install the fonts once I've made them?
- Why won't FontForge's fonts install on some MS windows machines?
- How do I edit fonts from my macintoy?
- How do create a mac font family? (How do I get the mac to group my fonts so that the italic and bold styles work)?
- Why doesn't ATM work with my fonts?
- How do I edit fonts on MS windows?
- Why don't my fonts work on windows?
- I have a truetype font with opentype tables, but windows displays the "TT" (truetype) icon and not the "O" icon. Why?
- When I load an otf or a type1 font most of my references have been replaced by inline copies. How do I get my references back?
- Does FontForge read in the old kerning information from fonts?
- How do I convert from one outline font format to another?
- How do I convert from one bitmap format to another?
- How do I convert from an outline format to a bitmap format?
- How do I convert from a bitmap format to an outline format?
- How do I convert from AAT to OpenType?
- How do I convert from OpenType to AAT?
- How do I make it use hint substitution?
- How do I make it use flex hints?
- My glyphs are all perfectly hinted, why do some stems have different widths (or appear fuzzy, or fade away completely)?
- Why does fontforge say "Error loading dynamic library" when trying to import an image file?
- Why does fontforge say "EPS file is too complex to be understood"?
- How do I set a particular bit in the OS/2 table (or any other)?
- FontForge's grey background distresses me. How do I change it?
- The fonts FontForge uses in its GUI are too small (too big) how do I change them?
- How do I mark a font as monospaced?
- How do I tell fontforge about a new encoding?
- How do I add a glyph with a new name?
- Why does fontforge give some glyphs the wrong name?
- Why isn't my Open Type font much smaller than the .pfb file?
- What's the difference between OpenType and PostScript (or TrueType) fonts?
- What is the difference between AAT (Apple Advanced Typography) and OpenType?
- Why does a font, which worked fine under 10.3 fail on Mac 10.4 (Tiger)?
- After I generate a font and quit, why does FontForge ask if I want to save the font? I didn't change anything.
- Why doesn't TeX work with my fonts?
- Why doesn't FontForge let me edit an '.mf' file?
- Why does my window get iconified when I want to minify the view?
- Why isn't there a character named "mu" in my greek font? (or "Delta", or "Omega", or "pi1")
- Why doesn't Edit->Copy copy glyph names as well as glyph info?
- Why does Edit->Paste complain about name duplication?
- What on earth are the cidmap files, and should I care about them?
- (What is a CID-keyed font?)
- Does the simplify command lose accuracy?
- How does FontForge convert a cubic spline into a quadratic spline for truetype?
- How do I set the default glyph of a font?
- I loaded a ttf font, made a few changes and generated a new font. The changed glyphs don't look anywhere near as nice as the originals. Why?
- I generated an opentype (or truetype) font and windows wouldn't install it. Why not?
- I looked at kaiu.ttf or mingliu.ttf and the outlines looked nothing like the correct glyphs. What's wrong?
- When I use Element->Build->Build Accented Glyph to build one of the Extended Greek glyphs (U+1F00-U+1FFF) FontForge picks the wrong accents. Why?
- When I use Element->Build->Build Accented Glyph to build accents over "u" or "y" I get the accent over one of the stems not centered on the glyph. Why?
- Why does ttf2afm crash on FontForge ttf files?
- Where can I find a list of known bugs in FontForge?
- My system keeps crashing because FontForge keeps running out of memory. What can I do about it?
- Why is FontForge so unstable?
-- Prev -- TOC --


Comprehensive logging messages help you confirm system configuration and debug problems in configuration and code.
-
Apache Geode uses Apache Log4j 2 as the basis for its logging system.
Understanding Log Messages and Their Categories
System logging messages typically pertain to startup; logging management; connection and system membership; distribution; or cache, region, and entry management.
Naming, Searching, and Creating Log Files
The best way to manage and understand the logs is to have each member log to its own files.
-
You configure logging in a member’s
gemfire.properties
or at startup withgfsh
. Advanced Users—Configuring Log4j 2 for Geode
Basic Geode logging configuration is configured via the gemfire.properties file. This topic is intended for advanced users who need increased control over logging due to integration with third-party libraries.


I am teaching two courses in the Spring 2004 semester.
| Math 107 | MWF 10:30-11:20 | Hamilton Hall 102 | Calculus II |
| Math 922 | MWF 1:30-2:20 | Oldfather Hall 209 | Real Analysis II |
2:35-3:15 M, W, F and by appointment.
Here is a list of my publications.


Tossing, Rand dreamed, wild dreams where he argued with Perrin and begged Mat to find Elayne, where colors flashed just beyond sight and Padan Fain leaped at him with a flashing blade, and sometimes he thought he heard a voice moaning for a dead woman in the heart of a fog, dreams where he tried to explain himself to Elayne, to Aviendha, to Min, to all three at once, and even Min looked at him with scorn.
“ . . . not to be disturbed!” Cadsuane’s voice. Part of his dreams?
The voice frightened him; in his dream he shouted for Lews Therin, and the sound echoed through a thick mist where shapes moved and people and horses died screaming, a fog where Cadsuane followed him implacably while he ran, panting. Alanna tried to soothe him, but she was afraid of Cadsuane, too; he could feel her fear as strongly as his own. His head hurt. And his side; the old scar was fire. He felt saidin. Someone held saidin. Was it him? He did not know. He struggled to wake.
 Min shouted.
His eyes opened, staring up at her face. Not looking at him, she had his head wrapped in her arms and was glaring at someone away from the bed. Her eyes were red. She had been crying, but no longer. Yes, he was in his own bed, in his rooms in the Sun Palace. He could see a heavy square blackwood bedpost set with wedges of ivory. Coatless in a cream silk blouse, Min lay curled around him protectively, atop the linen sheet that covered him to the neck. Alanna was afraid; that lay shivering in the back of his head. Afraid for him. For some reason, he was sure of that.
“I think he is awake, Min,” Amys said gently.
Min looked down, and her face, framed in dark ringlets, beamed with a sudden smile.
Carefully—because he felt weak—he removed her arms and sat up. His head whirled dizzily, but he forced himself not to lie back again. His bed was ringed.
To one side stood Amys, flanked by Bera and Kiruna. Amys’ too-youthful features bore no expression at all, but she brushed back her long white hair and shifted her dark shawl as though tidying herself after a struggle. Outwardly the two Aes Sedai were serene, yet with determined serenity, a queen ready to fight for her throne, a country woman ready to fight for her farm. Oddly, if he had ever seen three people stand together—and not just physically—it was those three, shoulder-to-shoulder as one.
 Samitsu and the raven-haired Aes Sedai wore yellow-fringed shawls and had jaws set every bit as firmly as Bera or Kiruna, yet Cadsuane’s stern stare made all four appear hesitant. The two groups of women were not staring at one another, but at the men.
At the foot of the bed were Dashiva with the silver sword and red-and-gold Dragon glittering his collar, and Flinn and Narishma, all grim-faced, trying to watch the women on both sides of the bed at once. Jonan Adley stood beside them, his black coat looking singed on one sleeve. Saidin filled all four men, to overflowing it seemed. Dashiva held almost as much as Rand could have. Rand looked to Adley, who nodded slightly.
Abruptly, Rand realized that he was not wearing anything beneath the sheet that had fallen to his waist, and nothing above except a bandage wound around his middle. “How long have I been asleep?” he asked. “How is it I’m alive?” He touched the pale bandage gingerly. “Fain’s dagger came from Shadar Logoth. Once I saw it kill a man in moments with a scratch. He died fast, and he died hard.” Dashiva muttered a curse with Padan Fain’s name in it.
Samitsu and the other Yellow exchanged startled looks, but Cadsuane merely nodded, the golden ornaments around her iron-gray bun swaying. “Yes; Shadar Logoth; that would explain several matters. You can thank Samitsu that you’re alive, and Master Flinn.” She did not glance toward the grizzled man with his fringe of white hair, but he grinned as though she had given him a bow; in truth, surprisingly, the Yellows did nod to him. “And Corele, here, of course,” Cadsuane went on. “Each has done a part, including some things I think have not been done since the Breaking.” Her voice turned grim. “Without all three, you would be dead by now.  You must rest, without exertion.” His stomach rumbled suddenly, loudly, and she added, “We’ve only been able to get a little water and broth down you since you were hurt. Two days is a long time without food for a sick man.”
Two days. Only two. He avoided looking at Adley. “I’m getting up,” he said.
 She put her arms around his shoulders as if to hold him where he was.
“If the Car’a’carn wishes to rise,” Amys said flatly, “I will have Nandera bring in the Maidens from the corridor. Somara and Enaila will be especially happy to give him just the assistance he needs.” The corners of her mouth twitched toward a smile. Once a Maiden herself, she knew close enough to everything of that situation.
“Boy,” Cadsuane said dryly, “I’ve already seen more of your hairless bottomcheeks than I wish to, but if you want to flaunt them in front of all six of us, perhaps someone will enjoy the show.  By Samitsu’s face, and Corele’s, they would be happy to assist her.
Narishma and Adley stared at Cadsuane in shock, while Flinn tugged at his coat as though arguing with himself. Dashiva, though, barked a rough laugh. “If you want us to clear the women out . . . ” The plain-faced man began preparing flows; not shields, but complex weaves of Spirit and Fire that Rand suspected would put anyone they were laid on in too much pain to think of channeling.
“No,” he said quickly. Bera and Kiruna would obey a simple order to go, and if Corele and Samitsu had helped keep him alive, he owed them more than pain. But if Cadsuane thought nakedness would hold him where he was, she was in for a surprise. He was not sure the Maidens had left him any modesty at all. With a smile for Min, he unwound her arms, tossed back the sheet, and climbed out of the bed on Amys’ side.
The Wise One’s mouth tightened; he could almost see her considering whether to call for the Maidens. Bera gave Amys an agonized, uncertain look, while Kiruna hurriedly turned her back, her cheeks darkening. Slowly he walked to the wardrobe. Slowly because he expected he might give Cadsuane her chance if he tried to move quickly.
“Phaw!” she muttered behind him. “I vow, I should smack the stubborn boy’s bottom.” Someone grunted what might have been agreement, or just disapproval of what he was doing.
“Ah, but it’s such a pretty bottom, now isn’t it that?” someone else said in a lilting Murandian accent. That must have been Corele.
A good thing he had his head inside the wardrobe. Maybe the Maidens had not peeled away as much modesty as he thought. Light! His face felt hot as a furnace. Hoping the motions of dressing would cover any wobbles, he climbed into his clothes hurriedly. His sword stood propped in the back of the wardrobe, sword belt wound around the dark boarhide scabbard. He touched the long hilt, then took his hand away.
Barefoot, he turned back to the others while still tying the laces of his shirt. Min still sat cross-legged on the bed in her snug green silk breeches, by her expression unable to decide between approval and frustration. “I need to talk with Dashiva and the other Asha’man,” he said. “Alone.”
Min scrambled off the bed and ran to hug him. Not tightly; she was very careful of his bandaged side. “I’ve waited too long to see you awake again,” she said, sliding an arm around his waist. “I need to be with you.” She emphasized that just a tad; she must have had a viewing. Or maybe she just wanted to help steady his legs; that arm seemed to offer support. Either way, he nodded; he was not all that steady. Laying a hand on her shoulder, he suddenly realized that he did not want the Asha’man to know how weak he was any more than Cadsuane or Amys.
Bera and Kiruna made reluctant curtsies and started for the door, then hesitated when Amys did not move right away. “So long as you do not intend to leave these rooms,” the Wise One said, not in the slightest as though speaking to her Car’a’carn.
Rand raised a naked foot. “Do I look as though I’m going anywhere?” Amys sniffed, but with a glance at Adley, she gathered up Bera and Kiruna and departed.
Cadsuane and the other two were only a moment more in going. The gray-haired Green glanced at Adley, too. It could not be much of secret that he had been gone from Cairhien for days. At the door, she paused. “Don’t do anything foolish, boy.”  Samitsu and Corele followed her out, dividing their frowns between him and the Asha’man. As they vanished, Dashiva laughed, a sharp wheeze, shaking his head; he actually sounded amused.
Rand stepped away from Min to fetch his boots from beside the wardrobe and take a rolled pair of stockings from inside. “I’ll join you in the anteroom as soon as I’m booted, Dashiva.”
The plain-faced Asha’man gave a start. He had been frowning at Adley. “As you command, my Lord Dragon,” he said, pressing fist to heart.
Waiting until the four men were gone, Rand sat down in a chair with a feeling of relief and began pulling on his stockings. He was sure his legs felt stronger just for being up and moving. Stronger, but they still did not want to support him very well.
“Are you sure this is wise?” Min said, kneeling beside his chair, and he gave her a startled look. If he had talked in his sleep during those two days, the Aes Sedai would have known. Amys would have had Enaila and Somara and fifty more Maidens waiting when he woke.
He tugged the stocking the rest of the way up. “Do you have a viewing?”
Min sat back on her heels, folded her arms beneath her breasts and gave him a firm look. After a moment, she decided it was not working and sighed. “It’s Cadsuane. She is going to teach you something, you and the Asha’man. All the Asha’man, I mean. It’s something you have to learn, but I don’t know what it is, except that none of you will like learning it from her. You aren’t going to like it at all.”
Rand paused with a boot in hand, then stuffed his foot in. What could Cadsuane, or any Aes Sedai, teach the Asha’man? Women could not teach men, or men women; that was as hard a fact as the One Power itself. “We will see” was all he said.
Plainly that did not satisfy Min. She knew it would happen, and so did he; she was never wrong. But what could Cadsuane possibly teach him? What would he let her teach him? The woman made him unsure of himself, uneasy in a way he had not felt since before the Stone of Tear fell.
Stamping his foot to settle it in the second boot, he fetched his sword belt from the wardrobe, and a red coat worked in gold, the same he had worn to the Sea Folk. “What bargain did Merana make for me?” he asked, and she made an exasperated sound in her throat.
“None, as of this morning,” she said impatiently. “She and Rafela haven’t left the ship since we did, but they’ve sent half a dozen messages asking if you’re well enough to return. I don’t think the bargaining has gone well for them without you. I suppose it’s too much to hope that’s where you’re going.”
“Not yet,” he told her. Min said nothing, but she said it very loudly, fists on her hips and one eyebrow raised high. Well, she would know most of it soon enough.
In the anteroom, all the Asha’man except Dashiva sprang out of their chairs when Rand appeared with Min. Staring at nothing and talking to himself, Dashiva did not notice until Rand reached the Rising Sun set in the floor, and then he blinked several times before rising.
Rand addressed himself to Adley while fastening the Dragon-shaped buckle of his sword belt. “The army’s reached the hillforts in Illian already?” He wanted to take one of the gilded armchairs, but would not let himself. “How? It should have been several more days at the best. At best.” Flinn and Narishma looked as startled as Dashiva; none of them had known where Adley and Hopwil had gone—or Morr. Deciding who to trust was always the difficulty, and trust a razor’s edge.
Adley drew himself up. There was something about his eyes, beneath those thick eyebrows. He had seen the wolf, as they said in Cairhien. “The High Lord Weiramon left the foot behind and pressed forward with the horse,” he said, reporting stiffly. “The Aiel kept up, of course.” He frowned. “We encountered Aiel yesterday. Shaido; I don’t know how they got there. There were maybe nine or ten thousand, altogether, but they didn’t seem to have any Wise Ones who could channel with them, and they didn’t really slow us down. We reached the hillforts at noon today.”
Rand wanted to snarl. Leaving the foot behind! Did Weiramon think he was going to take palisaded forts on hilltops with horsemen? Probably. The man probably would have left the Aiel behind too, if he could have outrun them.  Still, it did not matter. Except to the men who died because the High Lord Weiramon was contemptuous of anyone who did not fight from horseback.
“Eben and I began destroying the first palisades soon as we arrived,” Adley went on. “Weiramon didn’t much like that; I think he would have stopped us, but he was afraid to. Anyway, we began setting fire to the logs and blowing holes in the walls, but before we more than started, Sammael came. A man channeling saidin, at least, and a lot stronger than Eben or me. As strong as you, my Lord Dragon, I’d say.”
“He was there right away?” Rand said incredulously, but then he understood. He had been sure Sammael would stay safe in Illian behind defenses woven of the Power if he thought he had to face Rand; too many of the Forsaken had tried, and most were dead now. In spite of himself, Rand laughed—and had to hug his side; laughing hurt. All that elaborate deception to convince Sammael he would be anywhere but with the invading army, to bring the man out of Illian, and all made unnecessary by a knife in Padan Fain’s hand. Two days. By this time, everybody who had eyes-and-ears in Cairhien—which certainly included the Forsaken—knew that the Dragon Reborn lay on the edge of death. As well toss wet wood on the fire as think otherwise. “Men scheme and women plot, but the Wheel weaves as it will”; that was how they said it in Tear. “Go on,” he said.  Last night, it was plain as Eben’s nose we’d reach the forts today.”
“I don’t understand any of this.” Dashiva sounded upset; a muscle in his cheek was twitching. “You’ve lured him out, but to what purpose? As soon as he feels a man channel with anything near your strength, he’ll flee back to Illian and whatever traps and alarms he has woven. You won’t get at him there; he will know as soon as a gateway opens within a mile of the city.”
“We can save the army,” Adley burst out, “that’s what we can do. Weiramon was still sending charges against that fort when I left, and Sammael cuts every one to rags despite anything Eben or I can do.” He shifted the arm with the singed sleeve. “We have to strike back and run immediately, and even so, he nearly burned us where we stood, more than once. The Aiel are taking casualties too. They’re only fighting the Illianers who come out—the other hillforts must be emptying, so many were coming when I left—but any time Sammael sees fifty of us together, Aiel or anybody, he rips them apart. If there were three of him, or even two, I’m not sure I’d find anybody alive when I go back.” Dashiva stared at him as if at a madman, and Adley shrugged suddenly, as though feeling the lightness of his bare black collar compared with the sword and Dragon on the older man’s. “Forgive me, Asha’man,” he muttered, abashed, then added in a still lower voice, “But we can at least save them.”
“We will,” Rand assured him. Just not the way Adley expected. “You’re all going to help me kill Sammael today.” Only Dashiva looked startled; the other men just nodded. Not even the Forsaken frightened them anymore.
Rand expected argument out of Min, maybe a demand to come along, but she surprised him.  He nodded and she sighed. Perhaps the Forsaken had to depend on pigeons and eyes-and-ears just like anyone else, but being too sure could be fatal.
“The Maidens will want to come if they know, Min.” They would want to, and he would be hard-pressed to refuse. If he could refuse. Yet the disappearance even of Nandera and whoever she had on guard might be too much.
Min sighed again. “I suppose I could go talk to Nandera. I might be able to keep them out in the hallway for an hour, but they won’t be pleased with me when they find out.” He almost laughed again before he remembered his side; they definitely would not be pleased with her, or with him. “More to the point, farmboy, Amys won’t be pleased. Or Sorilea. The things I let you get me into.”
He opened his mouth to tell her he had not asked her to do anything, yet before he could utter a word, she moved very close. Looking up at him through long lashes, she put a hand on his chest, tapping her fingers. She smiled warmly and kept her voice soft, but the fingers were a giveaway.  Her smile brightened for a moment, almost cheerily, before she turned for the doors. He watched her go; she might make his head spin sometimes—nearly every woman he had ever met had done that at least a time or two—but she did have a way of walking that made him want to watch.
Abruptly he realized Dashiva was watching as well. And licking his lips. Rand cleared his throat loudly enough to be heard over the sound of the door closing behind her. For some reason, the plain-faced man raised his hands defensively. It was not as though Rand glared at him; he could not go around glaring at men just because Min wore tight breeches. Surrounding himself with the emptiness of the Void, he seized saidin and forced frozen fire and molten filth into the weaves for a gateway. Dashiva leaped back as it opened.  Something crooked and red spiderwebbed across the outside of the Void.
He stepped through onto bare dirt, with Dashiva and the others right behind, releasing the Source as soon as the last stepped clear. A sense of loss rushed in as saidin left, as awareness of Alanna dwindled. The loss had not seemed so great while Lews Therin was there; not so huge.
Overhead, the golden sun was more than halfway down to the horizon. A gust of wind swept dust from under his boots without leaving any coolness behind. The gateway had opened in a cleared area, marked off by a rope strung between four wooden posts. At each corner stood a pair of guards in short coats and baggy trousers stuffed into their boots, swords that appeared slightly serpentine hanging at their sides. Some had heavy mustaches that hung to their chins or thick beards, and all had bold noses and dark eyes that seemed tilted. As soon as Rand appeared, one of them went running.
“What are we doing here?” Dashiva said, looking about incredulously.
Around them stretched hundreds of sharp-peaked tents, gray and dusty white, tents and picket lines of already saddled horses. Caemlyn lay not many miles away, hidden behind the trees, and the Black Tower not much farther, but Taim would not know of this unless he had a spy watching. One of Fedwin Morr’s tasks had been to listen—to feel—for anyone trying to spy. In a ripple of murmurs spreading outward from the ropes, men with bold noses and serpentine swords rose from their heels and turned to stare expectantly toward Rand. Here and there women stood as well; Saldaean women often rode to the wars with their husbands, at least among the nobles and officers. There would be none of that today, though.
Ducking under the rope, Rand strode directly to a tent no different from any other except for the banner on the staff in front, three simple red blossoms on a field of blue. The kingspenny did not die back even in Saldaean winters, and when fires blackened the forests, those red flowers were always the first to reappear. A blossom nothing could kill: the sign of House Bashere.
Inside the tent, Bashere himself was already booted and spurred, and his sword on his hip. Ominously, Deira was with him, in a riding dress the same shade as her husband’s gray coat, and if she wore no sword, the long dagger at her belt of heavy silver roundels would do to go on with. The leather gauntlets tucked behind that belt spoke of someone meaning to ride hard.
“I hadn’t expected this for days yet,” Bashere said, rising from a folding camp chair. “Weeks, I hoped, in truth. I had hoped to have most of Taim’s leavings armed the way young Mat and I planned—I’ve gathered every maker of crossbows I could find into a manufactory, and they’re starting to produce them like a sow dropping piglets—but as it is, no more than fifteen thousand have crossbows and know what to do with them.” With a questioning look, he lifted a silver pitcher from atop the maps spread out on his folding table. “Do we have time for punch?”
“No punch,” Rand said impatiently. Bashere had spoken before about the men Taim found who could not learn to channel, but he had scarcely listened. If Bashere thought he had trained them well enough, that was all that mattered. “Dashiva and three more Asha’man are waiting outside; as soon as Morr joins them, we’ll be ready.” He eyed Deira ni Ghaline t’Bashere, towering over her diminutive husband with her hawk’s beak of a nose and her eyes that made a hawk’s look mild. “No punch, Lord Bashere. And no wives. Not today.”
Deira opened her mouth, her dark eyes all but glowing suddenly.
“No wives,” Bashere said, knuckling his heavy gray-streaked mustaches. “I will pass the order.” Turning to Deira, he held out his hand. “Wife,” he said mildly. Rand winced, mild tone or no, and waited for the eruption.
Deira’s mouth thinned.   She drew a deep breath; Deira could make drawing a deep breath seem a thing that should cause the earth to tremble. And unhooking her sheathed dagger from her belt, she laid it in her husband’s hand. “We will talk of this later, Davram,” she said. “At length.”
One day when he had time, Rand decided, he was going to make Bashere explain how he did that. If there ever was time.
“At length,” Bashere agreed, grinning through his mustaches as he stuffed the dagger behind his own belt. Maybe the man was simply suicidal.
The rope had been taken down outside, and Rand stood waiting with Dashiva and the other Asha’man while nine thousand Saldaean light horse arrayed themselves behind Bashere in a column of threes. Somewhere behind them, fifteen thousand men who called themselves the Legion of the Dragon would be gathering afoot. Rand had glimpsed them, every one in a blue coat made to button up the side so the red-and-gold Dragon across the chest would not be broken. Most carried steel-armed crossbows; some bore heavy unwieldy shields instead, but not one carried a pike. Whatever odd notion Mat and Bashere had cooked up, Rand hoped it would not lead a lot of this legion to death.
Morr grinned eagerly while he waited, all but bouncing on his toes. Perhaps he was simply glad to be back in his black coat with the silver sword on his collar, yet Adley and Narishma wore almost identical grins, and for that matter, Flinn’s was not far off. They knew where they were going now, and what to do there. Dashiva scowled at nothing as usual, his lips moving silently. As usual. Also silent, scowling, were the Saldaean women gathered behind Deira, watching from one side. Eagles and falcons, feathers ruffled and furious. Rand did not care how they grimaced and frowned; if he could face Nandera and the rest of the Maidens after keeping them back from this, then the Saldaean men could put up with any number of lengthy discussions. Today, the Light willing, no women would die because of him.
So many men could not be lined up in a minute, even when they had been awaiting the order, but in a remarkably short time, Bashere raised his sword and called, “My Lord Dragon!”
A shout rippled down the great column behind him. “The Lord Dragon!”
Seizing the Source, Rand made a gateway between the posts, four paces by four, and ran through as he tied off the weave, filled with saidin and the Asha’man on his heels, into a great open square surrounded by huge white columns, each topped with a marble wreath of olive branches. At the two ends of the square stood nearly identical purple-roofed palaces of columned walks and high balconies and slender spires. Those were the King’s Palace and the slightly smaller Great Hall of the Council, and this was the Square of Tammuz, in the heart of Illian.
 All the people were stopping to stare, hawkers with their trays, carters halting their oxen, men and women and children with their mouths hanging open.
Rand thrust his hands high and channeled. “I am the Dragon Reborn!” The words boomed across the square, amplified by Air and Fire, and flames shot up from his hands a hundred feet.  All save Dashiva, who made blue lightnings crackle in a jagged web above the square.
No more was needed. A shrieking flood of humanity fled in all directions, away from the Square of Tammuz. They fled just in time. Rand and the Asha’man darted aside from the gateway, and Davram Bashere led his wildly screaming Saldaeans into Illian, a flood of horsemen waving their swords as they poured out. Straight ahead Bashere led the center line of the column, just as they had planned what seemed so long ago, while the other two lines peeled off to either side. They streamed away from the gateway, breaking apart into smaller groups, galloping into the streets leading out of the square.
Rand did not wait to see the last of the horsemen exit. With well under a third out of the gateway, he immediately wove another, smaller opening. You did not need to know a place at all to Travel if you only intended to go a very short distance. Around him he felt Dashiva and the rest weaving their gateways, but he was already stepping through his own, letting it close behind him atop one of the slender towers of the King’s Palace. Absently he wondered whether Mattin Stepaneos den Balgar, the King of Illian, was somewhere below him at that moment.
The top of the spire stretched no more than five paces across, surrounded by a wall of red stone not quite chest-high on him. At fifty paces, it was the highest point in all of the city. From there he could see across rooftops glittering beneath the afternoon sun, red and green and every color, to the long earthen causeways that cut through the vast tall-grass marsh surrounding city and harbor. A sharp tang of salt hung in the air. Illian had no need of walls, with that all-enveloping marsh to stop an attacker. Any attacker who could not make holes in the air. But then, walls would have done no good either.
It was a pretty city, the buildings mainly of pale dressed stone, a city crisscrossed by as many canals as streets, like traceries of blue-green from this height, but he did not stop to admire it. Low across the roofs of taverns and shops and spired palaces he directed flows of Air and Water, Fire and Earth and Spirit, turning as he did so. He did not try to weave the flows, simply swept them out over the city and a good mile out over the marsh. From five other towers came flows sweeping low, and where they touched one another uncontrolled, light flashed and sparks flared and clouds of colored steam burst, a display any Illuminator might have envied. A better way to frighten people under their beds and out of the way of Bashere’s soldiers, he could not imagine, though that was not the reason for it.
Long ago he had decided that Sammael must have wards woven throughout the city, set to give an alarm should anyone channel saidin. Wards inverted so no one except Sammael himself could find them, wards that would tell Sammael exactly where that man was channeling so he could be destroyed on the instant. With luck, every one of those wards was being triggered now. Lews Therin had been sure Sammael would sense them wherever he was, even at a distance. That was why the wardings should be useless now; that sort had to be remade once triggered. Sammael would come. Never in his life had he relinquished anything he considered his, however shaky his claim, not without a fight. All that from Lews Therin. If he was real. He had to be. Those memories had too much detail. But could not a madman dream his fancies in detail, too?
Lews Therin! he called silently. The wind blowing across Illian answered.
Below, the Square of Tammuz stood deserted and silent, empty except for a few abandoned carts. Edge-on, the gateway was invisible except for the weaves.
Reaching down to those weaves, Rand untied the knot and, as the gateway winked from existence, reluctantly released saidin. All the flows vanished from the sky. Maybe some of the Asha’man still held on to the Source, but he had told them not to. He had told them that any man he felt channeling in Illian once he himself stopped, he intended to kill without warning. He did not want to find out afterward that the channeler had been one of them. He leaned on the wall, waiting, wishing he could sit. His legs ached and his side burned however he stood, yet he might need to see as well as feel a weave.
The city was not entirely quiet. From several directions he could hear distant shouts, the faint clash of metal. Even moving so many men to the border, Sammael had not left Illian entirely unprotected. Rand turned, trying to watch in every direction. He thought Sammael would come to the King’s Palace or that other at the far end of the square, but he could not be certain. Down one street he saw a band of Saldaeans clashing with an equal number of mounted men in shining breastplates; more Saldaeans suddenly galloped in from one side, and the fight vanished from his sight behind buildings. In another direction he spotted some of the Legion of the Dragon, marching across a canal’s low bridge. An officer marked by a tall red plume on his helmet strode ahead of some twenty men carrying wide shields as tall as their shoulders, followed by perhaps two hundred more with heavy crossbows. How would they fight? Shouts and steel ringing on steel in the distance, the faint screams of dying men.
The sun slid downward, and shadows lengthened across the city. Twilight, and the sun a low crimson dome in the west. A few stars appeared. Had he been wrong? Would Sammael simply go elsewhere, find another land to master? Had he been listening to anything other than his own mad ramblings?
A man channeled. For a moment, Rand froze, staring at the Great Hall of the Council. That had been enough of saidin for a gateway; he might not have felt a much smaller channeling, the length of the square. It had to be Sammael.
In an instant he had seized the Source, woven a gateway and leaped through with lightning ready to fly from his hands. It was a large room, lit by huge mirrored golden stand-lamps and others hanging on chains from the ceiling, with snowy marble walls carved in friezes showing battles, and ships crowding the marsh-bordered harbor of Illian itself. At the far end of the room, nine heavily carved and gilded armchairs stood like thrones atop a high stair-fronted white dais, the center chair with a back higher than any other. Before he could release the gateway behind him, the tower top where he had stood exploded. He felt the wash of Fire and Earth even as a storm of stone fragments and dust struck through the gateway, knocking him down on his face. Pain stabbed his side as he landed, a sharp red lance digging into the Void where he floated, and that as much as anything else made him release the gateway. Someone else’s pain; someone else’s weakness. He could ignore them, in the Void.
He moved, forcing another man’s muscles to work, pushed himself up and scrambled away in a lurching run toward the dais just as hundreds of red filaments burned down through the ceiling, burned through the sea-blue marble floor in a wide circle all around where the residue of his gateway was still fading. One stabbed through the heel of his boot, through his heel, and he heard himself cry out as he fell. Not his pain, in side or foot. Not his.
Rolling onto his back, he could see the remnants of those burning red wires still, fresh enough to make out Fire and Air woven in a way he had not known. Enough to make out exactly the direction they had come from. Black holes in the floor and ornately worked white plaster ceiling high overhead hissed and crackled loudly at the touch of the air.
His hands rose, and he wove balefire. Began to weave it. Someone else’s cheek stung from a remembered slap, and Cadsuane’s voice hissed and crackled in his head like the holes the red filaments had made. Never again, boy; you will never do that again. It seemed that he heard Lews Therin whimpering in distant fear of what he was about to loose, what had almost destroyed the world once. Every flow but Fire and Air fell away, and he wove as he had seen. A thousand fine hairs of red blossomed between his hands, fanning out slightly they shot upward. A circle of the ceiling two feet across fell in stone chips and plaster dust.
Only after he had done it did he think that there might be someone between him and Sammael. He intended to see Sammael dead this day, but if he could do it without killing anyone else . . . The weaves vanished as he pulled himself to his feet once more and limped hurriedly to the doors in the side of the hall, tall things with every panel set with nine golden bees the size of his fist.
A small flow of Air pushed one door open before he reached it, too small to be detected at any distance. Hobbling into the corridor, he sank to one knee. That other man’s side was fire, his heel agony. Rand pulled his sword up and leaned on it, waiting.  At least, a coat green on one side and yellow on the other looked like livery. The fellow saw Rand and, very slowly, as though he might not be noticed if he moved slowly enough, slid back out of sight. Sooner or later, Sammael would have to . . .
“Illian belongs to me!” The voice boomed in the air, from every direction, and Rand cursed. That had to be the same weave he himself had used in the square, or something very like; it required so little of the Power he might not have felt the actual flows had he been within ten paces of the man. “Illian is mine!  You had the nerve to come after me here? Do you have the courage to follow me again?” A sly mocking tone entering that thundering voice. “Do you have the courage?” Somewhere above, a gateway opened and closed; Rand had no doubt that was what it was.
The courage? Did he have the courage?  Weaving a gateway, he stepped through, to a place floors above.
It was another hallway, lined with wall hangings showing ships at sea. At the far end, the last crimson sliver of the sun shone through a colonnaded walk. The residue of Sammael’s gateway hung in the air, the dissipating flows like faintly glowing ghosts. Not so faint Rand could not make them out, though. He began to weave, then stopped. He had leaped up here without a thought of a trap. If he copied what he saw exactly, he would step out wherever Sammael had, or so close as made no difference. But with just a slight alteration; no way to be sure whether the change was fifty feet or five hundred, yet either was close enough.
The vertical silver slash began to rotate open, revealing the shadow-cloaked ruins of greatness, not quite as dark as the hallway. Seen through the gateway, the sun was a slightly thicker slice of red, half-hidden by a shattered dome. He knew that place. The last time he had gone there, he had added a name to that list of Maidens in his head; the first time, Padan Fain had followed and become more than a Darkfriend, worse than a Darkfriend. That Sammael had fled to Shadar Logoth seemed like coming full circle in more ways that one. There was no time to waste now that he was opening the way. Before the gateway stopped widening, he ran through into the ravaged city that once had been called Aridhol, ran limping, letting the weave go as he ran, boots crunching on broken paving stones and dead weeds.
The first corner he came to, he ducked around. The ground shook under his feet as roars sounded back the way he had come, light flashing atop flash in the twilight darkness; he felt the wash of Earth and Fire and Air. Shrieks and bellows rose through the thunderous crashes. Saidin pulsing inside him, he hobbled away without looking back. He ran, and with the Power filling him, even in the dark shadows he could see clearly.
All around the great city lay, huge marble palaces each with four and five domes of different shapes painted crimson by the setting sun, bronze fountains and statues at every intersection, great stretches of columns running to towers that soared across the sun. They soared when intact, at least; more ended in abrupt jaggedness than not. For every dome that stood whole, ten were broken eggshells with the top hacked off or one side gone. Statues lay toppled in fragments, or stood with missing arms, or heads. Swiftly deepening darkness raced across sprawling hills of rubble, the few stunted trees clinging to their slopes twisted shapes like broken fingers against the sky.
A fan of bricks and stone spread across the way from what might have been a small palace; half its front missing, the rest of the columned façade leaned drunkenly toward the street. He stopped in the middle of the street, just short of the fan, waiting, feeling for another to use saidin. Clinging to the sides of the street was not a good idea, and not simply because any building might fall at any time. A thousand unseen eyes seemed to watch from windows like gouged eye sockets, to watch with a nearly palpable sense of anticipation. Distantly he felt the new wound in his side throbbing, a slash of flame, echoing the evil that clung to the very dust of Shadar Logoth. The old scar clenched like a fist. The pain of his foot seemed very distant indeed. Closer, the Void itself pulsated around him, the Dark One’s taint on saidin beating in time with the knife slash across his ribs. A dangerous place by daylight, Shadar Logoth. By night . . .
Down the street, beyond a spired monument miraculously standing straight, something moved, a shadowed shape darting across the way in the darkness. Rand almost channeled, but he could not believe Sammael would go scuttling that way. When he first stepped into the city, when Sammael tried to destroy everything around his gateway, he had heard horrible screams. They had barely registered, then. Nothing lived in Shadar Logoth, not even rats. Sammael must have brought henchmen, fellows he did not mind killing in an attempt to reach Rand. Maybe one of them could lead Rand to Sammael. He hurried forward as fast as he could, as soundlessly as he could. Shattered pavement crunched under his boots with a sound like bones snapping. He hoped it was loud only to his saidin-enhanced ears.
Stopping at the base of the spire, a thick stone needle covered with flowing script, he peered ahead. Whoever had moved was gone; only fools or the madly brave went inside in Shadar Logoth at night. The evil that stained Shadar Logoth, the evil that had murdered Aridhol, had not died with Aridhol. Farther along the street, a tendril of silver-gray fog wavered out of a window, creeping toward another that came to meet it from a wide gap in a high stone wall. The depths of that gap shone as though a full moon lay inside. With the night, Mashadar roamed its city prison, a vast presence that could appear in a dozen places at once, a hundred. Mashadar’s touch was not a pleasant way to die. Inside Rand, the taint on saidin beat harder; the distant fire in his side flickered like ten thousand lightnings, one on top of the last. Even the ground seemed to pound beneath his boots.
He turned, half-thinking to leave now. Very likely, Sammael had gone, now that Mashadar was out. Very likely the man had lured him here in the hope he would search the ruins until Mashadar killed him. He turned, and stopped, crouching against the spire. Two Trollocs were creeping down that street, bulky shapes in black mail, half again as tall as he, or more. Spikes stood out on the shoulders and elbows of their armor, and they carried spears with long black points and wicked hooks. To his saidin-filled eyes, their faces stood out clearly, one distorted by an eagle’s beak where mouth and nose should have been, the other by a boar’s tusked snout. Every line of their creeping shouted fear; Trollocs loved killing, loved blood, but Shadar Logoth terrified them. There would be Myrddraal about; no Trolloc would have entered this city without Myrddraal to drive it. No Myrddraal would have entered without Sammael driving. All of which meant Sammael must still be here, or these Trollocs would be running for the gates, not hunting. And they were hunting. That boar’s snout was snuffling the air for a scent.
Abruptly a figure in rags leaped from a window above the Trollocs, falling on them with spear already stabbing. An Aiel, a woman, shoufa wrapped around her head but veil hanging. The eagle-beaked Trolloc shrieked as her spearpoint stabbed deep into its side, stabbed again. As its companion fell, kicking, boar-snout spun with snarl, thrusting viciously, but she ducked low under the black hooked point and stabbed up into the creature’s stomach, and it went down in a thrashing heap with the other.
Rand was on his feet and running before he thought. “Liah!” he shouted. He had thought her dead, abandoned here by him, dead for him. Liah, of the Cosaida Chareen; that name blazed on the list in his head.
She whirled to confront him, spear ready in one hand, round bull-hide buckler in the other. The face he remembered as pretty despite scars on both cheeks was contorted with rage. “Mine!” she hissed threateningly through her teeth. “Mine! No one may come here! No one!”
He stopped in his tracks. That spear waited, eager to seek his ribs too. “Liah, you know me,” he said softly. “You know me. I’ll take you back to the Maidens, back to your spear-sisters.” He held out his hand.
Her rage melted into a twisted frown. She tilted her head to one side. “Rand al’Thor?” she said slowly. Her eyes widened, falling to the dead Trollocs, and a look of horror spread across her face.  “The Car’a’carn!” she wailed. And fled.
He hobbled after her, scrambling over piles of rubble spread across the street, falling, ripping his coat, falling again and nearly ripping it off, rolling and picking himself up on the run. The weakness of his body was distant, and the pain of it, but even floating deep in the Void, he could only push that body so hard. Liah vanished into the night. Around the next black-shadowed corner, he thought.
He limped around that as fast as he could. And nearly ran into four black mailed Trollocs and a Myrddraal, inky cloak hanging unnaturally still down its back as the Fade moved. The Trollocs snarled in surprise, yet shock lasted less than a heartbeat. Hooked spears and scythe-curved swords rose; the Myrddraal’s dead-black blade was in its fist, a blade that gave wounds almost as deadly as Fain’s dagger.
Rand did not even try to draw the heron-mark sword at his side.  Simpler to have destroyed them all the way he had seen the Asha’man kill at Dumai’s Wells, but changing the weaves now, trying to change, might take a fatal moment. Those swords could kill even him. He danced the forms in a darkness lit by the flame in his hands, shadows flying across faces above him, faces with wolves’ muzzles and goats’ faces contorted in screams as his fiery blade sliced through black mail and the flesh beneath as if they were water. Trollocs depended on numbers and overwhelming ferocity; facing him, and that sword of the Power, they might as well have stood stock-still, unarmed.
The sword vanished from his hands. Still poised at the end of the form called Twisting the Wind, he stood among death. The last Trolloc to fall still thrashed, goat horns scraping on the fragmented pavement. The headless Myrddraal yet flung its arms about, of course, booted feet scrabbling wildly; Halfmen did not die quickly, even headless.
No sooner did the sword disappear than silver lightning lanced down from the cloudless, starry sky.
The first bolt struck with a deafening roar not four paces away. The world turned white, and the Void collapsed. The ground bounced under him as another bolt struck, and another. He had not realized he was on his face until then. The air crackled. Dazed, he pushed himself up, half falling as he ran from a hail of lightning that ripped the street apart to a thunder of collapsing buildings. Straight ahead he staggered, not caring where, so long as it was away.
Suddenly his head cleared enough for him to see where he was, reeling across a vast stone floor covered with tumbled chunks of stone, some as big as he. Here and there, dark uneven holes gaped in the floorstones. All around rose high walls, and tier upon tier of deep balconies that ran all the way around.  Stars shone bright overhead.
He lurched another step, and the floor gave way beneath him. Desperately he flung out his hands; with a jolt, the right hand caught hold of a rough edge. He dangled into pitch-blackness. The fall beneath his boots might be a few spans into a basement, or a mile for all he could tell. He could latch bands of Air to the jagged rim of the hole above his head to help pull himself out, except . . . somehow, Sammael had sensed the relatively small amount of saidin used in the sword. There had been a delay before the lightnings struck, but he could not say how long he had taken killing the Trollocs. A minute? Seconds?
With a heave, he swung his left arm up, trying to catch the edge of the hole. Pain no longer buffered by the Void stabbed through his side like a dagger going in. Spots danced in his vision. Worse, his right hand slipped on crumbling stone, and he could feel his fingers weakening. He was going to have to . . .
A hand grabbed his right wrist. “You are a fool,” a man’s deep voice said.  The hand began drawing him up. “Are you going to help?” the voice demanded.
Shaking off his shock, Rand reached up and grabbed the rim of the hole, pulling despite the agony of his side. Despite the agony, he managed to acquire the Void again, too, and seize saidin. He did not channel, but he wanted to be ready.
His head and shoulders came above the floor, and he could see the other man, a big fellow little older than he, with hair black as the night and a coat black as an Asha’man’s. Rand had never seen him before. At least he was not one of the Forsaken; those faces he knew. He thought he did, anyway. “Who are you?” he demanded.
Still heaving, the man barked a laugh. “Just say I’m a wanderer passing through. Do you really want to talk now?”
Saving his breath, Rand struggled upward, getting his chest over the lip, his waist. Abruptly he realized that a glow bathed the floor around them like the glow of a full moon.
Twisting to look over his shoulder, he saw Mashadar. Not a tendril, but a shining silver-gray wave rolling out of one of the balconies, arching over their heads. Descending.
 Dimly he was aware of another bar of pale solid fire rising from the other man’s hand that was not clasping his, a bar slashing the opposite way from his. The two touched.
Head ringing like a struck gong, Rand convulsed, saidin and the Void shattering. Everything was doubled in his eyes, the balconies, the chunks of stone lying about the floor. There seemed to be a pair of the other man overlapping one another, each clutching his head between two hands. Blinking, Rand searched for Mashadar. The wave of shining mist was gone; a glow remained in the balconies above, but dimming, receding, as Rand’s eyes began to clear. Even mindless Mashadar fled balefire, it seemed.
Unsteadily, he got to his feet and offered a hand. “I think we best move quickly. What happened there?”
The other man pushed himself up with a grimace at Rand’s proffered hand. He was easily as tall as Rand, rare except among the Aiel. “I don’t know what happened,” he snarled. “Run, if you want to live.” He suited his own words immediately, dashing toward a row of open arches. Not in the nearest wall. Mashadar had come from that one.
Fumbling for the Void, Rand limped after him as fast as he could, but before they were completely across the floor, the lightnings fell again, a storm of silver arrows. The two of them darted through the archways pursued by the thunder of walls and floor collapsing behind them, by clouds of dust and a hail of stones. Shoulders hunched and an arm across his face, Rand ran coughing through a broad room where trembling arches supported the ceiling and bits of stone rained down.
He burst out into a street before he knew it, stumbling three steps before stopping. The pain in his side made him want to bend over, but he thought his legs might give way if he did. His wounded foot throbbed; it seemed a year ago that that red wire of Fire and Air had stabbed his heel. His rescuer stood watching him; covered with dust head to toe, the fellow managed to look a king.
“Who are you?” Rand asked again. “One of Taim’s men? Or did you teach yourself? You can go to Caemlyn, you know, to the Black Tower.  For some reason, saying that made him frown; he could not understand why.
“I have never been afraid of Aes Sedai,” the man snapped, then drew a deep breath. “You probably should leave here now, but if you intend to stay and kill Sammael, you had better try thinking like him. You have shown you can. He always liked destroying a man in sight of one of that man’s triumphs, if he could. Lacking that, somewhere the man had marked as his would do.”
“The Waygate,” Rand said slowly. If he could be said to have marked anything in Shadar Logoth, it had to be the Waygate. “He’s waiting near the Waygate. And he has traps set.” Wards as well, it seemed, like those in Illian, to detect a man channeling. Sammael had planned this well.
The man laughed wryly. “You can find the way, it seems. If you’re led by the hand. Try not to stumble.  Turning, he started across the street for an alleyway just ahead of them.
“Wait,” Rand called. The fellow kept on, not looking back. “Who are you? What plans?” The man vanished into the alley.
Rand teetered after him, but when he reached the mouth of the narrow alley, it was empty. Unbroken walls ran a good hundred paces to another street, where a glow told of yet another part of Mashadar abroad, but the man was gone. Which was purely impossible. The fellow had had time to make a gateway, of course, if he knew how, but the residue would have been visible, and besides, that much of saidin being woven so near would have shouted at him.
Suddenly he realized that he had not felt saidin when the man made balefire, either. Just thinking of that, of the two streams touching, made his vision double again. Just for an instant, he could see the man’s face again, sharp where everything else blurred. He shook his head until it cleared. “Who in the Light are you?” he whispered. And after a moment, “What in the Light are you?”
Whoever or whatever, the man was gone, though. Sammael was still in Shadar Logoth. With an effort he managed to regain the Void once more. The taint on saidin vibrated now, humming its way deep into him; the Void itself vibrated. But the weakness of watery muscles and the pain of injuries faded. He was going to kill one of the Forsaken before this night was done.
Limping, he ghosted through the dark streets, placing his feet with great care. He still made noise, but the night was full of noise now. Shrieks and guttural cries sounded in the distance. Mindless Mashadar killed whatever it found, and Trollocs were dying in Shadar Logoth tonight as they had once long, long ago. Sometimes down a crossing street he saw Trollocs, two or five or a dozen, occasionally with a Halfman but most often not. None saw him, and he did not bother them. Not simply because Sammael would detect any channeling.  Sammael had almost certainly brought them by the Ways, but apparently he did not realize just how Rand had marked the Waygate here.
Well short of the square where the Waygate lay, Rand stopped and looked around. Nearby, a tower stood seemingly whole. Not nearly as tall as some, its top still rose more than fifty paces above the ground. The dark doorway at its base was empty, the wood long rotted away and the hinges gone to dust.  Distant pain. On the tower top, he leaned against the smooth parapet to catch his breath. The idle thought came that he would never hear the end if Min learned of this. Min, or Amys, or Cadsuane for that matter.
Across missing rooftops, he could see the great square that had been one of the most important in Aridhol. Once an Ogier grove had covered this part of the land, but within thirty years after the Ogier who had built the oldest parts of the city departed, the residents had cut down the trees to make room for expanding Aridhol. Palaces and the remains of palaces surrounded the huge square, the glow of Mashadar shining deep inside a few windows, and a huge mound of rubble covered one end, but in the center stood the Waygate, apparently a tall broad piece of stone. He was not close enough to see the delicately carved leaves and vines that covered it, but he could make out the toppled pieces of high fence that had once surrounded it. Power-wrought metal lying in a heap, they gleamed untarnished in the night. He could also see the trap he had woven around the Waygate, inverted so no eye but his could see it. No way to tell by looking whether the Trollocs and Halfmen really had passed through it, yet if they had, they would die before long. A nasty thing. Whatever traps Sammael had made down there were invisible to him, but that was expected. Likely they were not very pleasant either.
At first, he could not see Sammael, but then someone moved among the fluted, flaring columns of a palace. Rand waited. He wanted to be sure; he had only one chance. The figure stepped forward, out of the columns and a pace into the square, head swinging this way and that. Sammael, with snowy lace shining at his throat, waiting to see Rand walk into the square, into the traps. Behind him, the glow in the windows of the palace brightened. Sammael peered into the darkness lying across the square, and Mashadar oozed out of the windows, thick billows of silver-gray fog sliding together, merging as they loomed above his head. Sammael walked a little to one side, and the wave began to descend, slowly picking up speed as it fell.
Rand shook his head. Sammael was his. The flows needed for balefire seemed to gather themselves, despite the far echo of Cadsuane’s voice. He raised his hand.
A scream tore the darkness, a woman shrieking in agony beyond knowing. Rand saw Sammael turn to stare toward the great mound of rubble even as his own eyes flashed that way. Atop the mound a shape stood outlined against the night sky in coat and breeches, a single thin tendril of Mashadar touching her leg. Arms outstretched, she thrashed about, unable to move from the spot, and her wordless wail seemed to call Rand’s name.
“Liah,” he whispered. Unconsciously he reached out, as though he could stretch his arm across the intervening distance and pull her away. Nothing could save what Mashadar touched, though, no more than anything could have saved him had Fain’s dagger plunged into his heart. “Liah,” he whispered. And balefire leaped from his hand.
For less than a heartbeat, the shape of her still seemed to be there, all in stark blacks and snowy whites, and then she was gone, dead before her agony began.
Screaming, Rand swept the balefire down toward the square, the rubble collapsing on itself, swept down death out of time—and let saidin go before the bar of white touched the lake of Mashadar that now rolled across the square, billowing past the Waygate toward rivers of glowing gray that flowed out from another palace on the other side. Sammael had to be dead. He had to be. There had not been time for him to run, no time to weave a gateway, and if he had, Rand would have felt saidin being worked. Sammael was dead, killed by an evil almost as great as himself. Emotion raced across the outside of the Void; Rand wanted to laugh, or perhaps cry.
For a long time he stood on the tower top while the waning moon crossed the sky, almost at its half, stood watching Mashadar fill the square completely, till only the very top of the Waygate rose above the surface of the fog. Slowly it began to ebb away, hunting elsewhere. If Sammael had been alive, he could have killed the Dragon Reborn easily then. Rand was not sure that he would have cared. Finally he opened a gateway for Skimming and made a platform, a railless disc, half white and half black. Skimming was slower than Traveling; it took him at least half an hour to reach Illian, and the whole way, he burned Liah’s name into his mind again and again, flailing himself with it. He wished he could cry. He thought he had forgotten how.
They were waiting for him in the King’s Palace, in the throne room. Bashere, and Dashiva and the Asha’man. It was exactly like the room he had seen at the other end of the square, down to the stand-lamps and the scenes carved into the marble walls and the long white dais. Exactly the same except for being slightly larger in every dimension, and instead of nine chairs on the dais, there was only a great gilded throne with leopards for its arms and nine fist-sized golden bees that would stand above the head of whoever sat in it. Wearily Rand sat himself down on the steps at the front of the dais.
“I take it Sammael is dead,” Bashere said, looking him up and down in his ragged coat and dust.
“He’s dead,” Rand said. Dashiva sighed loudly with relief.
“The city is ours,” Bashere went on. “Or I should say, yours.” He laughed suddenly. “The fighting stopped quick enough once the right people found out it was you. Not much to it, in the end.” Dried blood made a black stain down one torn sleeve of his coat. “The Council has been waiting eagerly for you to come back. Anxiously, you might say,” he added with a wry grin.
Eight sweating men had been standing at the far end of the throne room since Rand came in. They wore dark silk coats with gold or silver embroidery on the lapels and sleeves, and falls of lace at their throats and wrists. Some wore a beard that left the upper lip shaved clean, but every one had a broad sash of green silk slanted across his chest, with nine golden bees marching up it.
At Bashere’s gesture they came forward, bowing to Rand at about every third step, for all the world as though he wore the finest garments sewn. A tall man seemed to be the leader, a round-faced fellow with one of those beards, with a natural dignity that appeared strained by worry. “My Lord Dragon,” he said, bowing again and pressing both hands to his heart. “Forgive me, but Lord Brend do be nowhere to be found, and—”
“He won’t be,” Rand said flatly.
A muscle in the man’s face jumped at Rand’s tone, and he swallowed. “As you do say, my Lord Dragon,” he murmured. “I do be Lord Gregorin den Lushenos, my Lord Dragon. In Lord Brend’s absence, I do speak for the Council of Nine. We do offer you . . . ” A hand at his side waved vigorously at a shorter, beardless man, who stepped forward bearing a cushion draped with a length of green silk. “ . . . we do offer you Illian.” The shorter man whipped the cloth away, revealing a heavy gold circlet, two inches wide, of laurel leaves. “The city do be yours, of course,” Gregorin went on anxiously. “We did put an end to all resistance. We do offer you the crown, and the throne, and all of Illian.”
Rand stared at the crown on its cushion, not moving a muscle. People had thought he meant to make himself a king in Tear, feared he would in Cairhien and Andor, but no one had offered him a crown before. “Why? Is Mattin Stepaneos so willing to give up his throne?”
“King Mattin did disappear two days ago,” Gregorin said. “Some of us do fear . . . We do fear Lord Brend may have something to with it. Brend does have . . . ” He stopped to swallow. “Brend did have a great deal of influence with the king, some might say too much, but he did be distracted in recent months, and Mattin had begun to reassert himself.”
Strips of grimy coatsleeve and pieces of shirtsleeve dangled as Rand reached to pick up the Laurel Crown. The Dragon wound around his forearm glittered in the lamplight as brightly as the golden crown. He turned it in his hands. “You still haven’t said why. Because I conquered you?” He had conquered Tear, and Cairhien too, but some turned on him in both lands still. Yet it seemed to be the only way.
“That do be part,” Gregorin said dryly. “Even so, we might have chosen one of our own; kings have come from the Council before. But the grain you did order sent from Tear has your name on every lip with the Light. Without that, many would be dead of starvation. Brend did see every stick of bread go to the army.”
 Almost buried among the laurel leaves of the crown were the sharp points of swords. How long ago had he commanded the Tairens to sell grain to their ancient enemy, sell it or die for refusing? He had not realized they kept on after he began preparations to invade Illian. Maybe they feared to bring it up, but they had feared to stop, too. Maybe he had earned some right to this crown.
Gingerly he set the circle of laurel leaves on his head. Half those swords pointed up, half down. No head would wear this crown casually or easily.
Gregorin bowed smoothly. “The Light illumine Rand al’Thor, King of Illian,” he intoned, and the seven other lords bowed with him, murmuring, “The Light illumine Rand al’Thor, King of Illian.”
Bashere contented himself with a bow of his head—he was uncle to a queen, after all—but Dashiva cried out, “All hail Rand al’Thor, King of the World!” Flinn and the other Asha’man took it up.
“All hail Rand al’Thor, King of the World!”
“All hail the King of the World!”
That had a good sound to it.
The story spread as stories will, and changed as stories change with time and distance, spreading out from Illian by coasting ships, and merchant trains of wagons, and pigeons sent in secret, spreading in ripples that danced with other ripples and made new. An army had come to Illian, the stories said, an army of Aiel, of Aes Sedai appearing from thin air, of men who could channel riding winged beasts, even an army of Saldaeans, though not many believed that one. Some tales said the Dragon Reborn had been presented the Laurel Crown of Illian by the Council of Nine, and others by Martin Stepaneos himself on bended knee. Some said the Dragon Reborn had wrenched the crown from Martin’s head, then stuck that head on a spike. No, the Dragon Reborn had razed Illian to the ground and buried the old king in the rubble. No, he and his army of Asha’man had burned Illian out of the earth. No, it was Ebou Dar he had destroyed, after Illian.
 The Laurel Crown of Illian had been given a new name. The Crown of Swords.
And for some reason, men and women who told the tales often found a need to add almost identical words. The storm is coming, they said, staring southward in worry. The storm is coming.
Master of the lightnings, rider on the storm, wearer of a crown of swords, spinner-out of fate. Who thinks he turns the Wheel of Time, may learn the truth too late.
—From a fragmentary translation of
The Prophecies of the Dragon,
attributed to Lord Mangore Kiramin,
Sword-bard of Aramaelle and Warder to
Caraighan Maconar,
into what was then called the vulgar tongue
(circa 300 AB).


The plugin can be used either as a regular Maven plugin or as a BND plugin.
No matter which approach you choose, the plugin will by default look for scripts in two project directories:
The structure in these source directories should then follow the normal way of structuring scripts in an Apache Sling application. For more details, check the URL to Script Resolution page. In addition to the normal way of structuring scripts in the file tree, the plugin provides some additional features:
Resource Type Versioning
This works by putting the scripts in a folder that follows this simple naming convention: <resourceType>/<version>/. The <version> should be a valid semantic version (e.g. 1.0.0)
Defining explicit extends relationships (similar to the sling:resourceSuperType property)
An extends file in the resource type folder (versioned or not) allows defining this explicit relationship. This file must contain a single line with the resourceType used for the extends capability attribute followed by a ;version=<version-range>; in this case, the plugin will set the extends attribute to the given resourceType and generate a Require-Capability for that resourceType with the given version range.
Defining an explicit requirement, without an inheritance relationship (e.g. delegation to another resource type)
A requires file (assuming the same conventions and syntax as for the extends file) will generate a Require-Capability for each line based on the given resourceType and version range.
The Resource Type can have the form of a path or of a Java package name (e.g. com.mydomain.components.image). When the resource type is defined as a package name, the resource type label will be the last subpackage (i.e. for com.mydomain.components.image, the resource type label will be image).
As an example, let’s assume the following layout:
src/main/resources/javax.script/ org.foo/1.0.0 foo.POST.html
This will generate following Provide-Capability:
sling.servlet; sling.servlet.resourceTypes:List<String>="org.foo"; sling.servlet.methods:List<String>=POST; version:Version="1.0.0"
For more complex examples head over to https://github.com/apache/sling-org-apache-sling-scripting-bundle-tracker-it/tree/master/examples.
When used as a Maven plugin, the generated Require-Capability and Provide-Capability headers values are made available via properties:
${org.apache.sling.scriptingbundle.maven.plugin.Require-Capability} ${org.apache.sling.scriptingbundle.maven.plugin.Require-Capability}
That makes it reasonably straightforward to use the plugin by just adding it into your build and use the two properties in the manifest writing instructions of another plugin like the maven-bundle-plugin:
<plugin> <groupId>org.apache.sling</groupId> <artifactId>scriptingbundle-maven-plugin</artifactId> <version>0.3.0</version> <executions> <execution> <phase>prepare-package</phase> <goals> <goal>metadata</goal> </goals> </execution> </executions> </plugin> <plugin> <groupId>org.apache.felix</groupId> <artifactId>maven-bundle-plugin</artifactId> <extensions>true</extensions> <configuration> <instructions> <Provide-Capability> ${org.apache.sling.scriptingbundle.maven.plugin.Provide-Capability} </Provide-Capability> <Require-Capability> osgi.extender;filter:="(&(osgi.extender=sling.scripting)(version>=1.0.0)(!(version>=2.0.0)))", ${org.apache.sling.scriptingbundle.maven.plugin.Require-Capability} </Require-Capability> </instructions> </configuration> </plugin>
The osgi.extender requirement is mandatory to have the bundle wired up to the Apache Sling Servlets Resolver, but this should be manually defined by the developers, so that their bundle is correctly wired up to whatever version of the Servlets Resolver is available on the destination platform.
Starting with version 0.3.0, the JAR also provides a BND plugin. The simplest configuration (where the defaults are used) would look like:
<plugin> <groupId>biz.aQute.bnd</groupId> <artifactId>bnd-maven-plugin</artifactId> <dependencies> <dependency> <groupId>org.apache.sling</groupId> <artifactId>scriptingbundle-maven-plugin</artifactId> <version>0.3.0</version> </dependency> </dependencies> </plugin>
and the following instructions added to your project’s bnd.bnd file:
Require-Capability: osgi.extender;filter:="(&(osgi.extender=sling.scripting)(version>=1.0.0)(!(version>=2.0.0)))" -plugin: org.apache.sling.scriptingbundle.plugin.bnd.BundledScriptsScannerPlugin
The BND plugin supports the same configuration options as the Maven metadata goal, using the exact same name for its configuration properties. Multiple values need to be provided as a quoted comma separated values list (e.g. sourceDirectories="src/main/scripts,src/main/resources/javax.script", scriptEngineMappings="html:htl,js:rhino").


determineActivationStrategy(params: any, routeConfig: RouteConfig, navigationInstruction: NavigationInstruction):
Implement this hook if you want to give hints to the router about the activation strategy, when reusing a view model for different routes. Available values are 'replace' and 'invoke-lifecycle'.
Parameters
params: any
routeConfig: RouteConfig
navigationInstruction: NavigationInstruction


I'm going to level with you, non-tech friend. I don't think I've ever solved a tech problem elegantly - at least I can't think of a time. I've solved real-life problems elegantly, but so far no tech ones. I did have a problem in this sprint - a very simple it turned out. I was following the step-by-step instructions, this function I was writing should have worked but wasn't. I didn't understand why. It was almost a copy-and-paste job. I tried changing a few things about the code, I compared what I'd written with the examples, then I used a checker to see if my syntax was off. As far as I could tell, it should have been working. It seemed like it had to be a simple problem, I just wasn't seeing something. So I got up and made some food, came back, looked at it again, and thought, "Huh...I think that word's wrong. I'll be so pissed if that's what was wrong." It was exactly what was wrong. I was just using the wrong variable name. Go figure.
It was ridiculously frustrating, and I learned that most of errors probably aren't a big deal and I should stop over-complicating them.
I haven't tried pseudocoding yet, but it seems to be a pretty valuable tool and I do want to start using it. Trying something is usually the first thing I do, then if it doesn't work, at least I have a starting point. I haven't tried the rubber ducky yet, but I've seen it work from being the rubber ducky haha so I'll probably give it a go sometime. I'll use my cats.
I get a lot of error messages so I'm getting pretty comfortable with these. Google has been a good friend there. Console.logging is still a little bit of a msytery to me but it's slowly becoming clearer...I think.  Google is often my friend. Asking my peers and coaches for help is usually not near the top of my list, mostly because of all the insecurities that we all have and are trying to work on, but also because I can usually get an answer from Google pretty quickly. I could definitely stand to reflect a little more often.


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Chelsea injury news: Key boost for Lampard vs Lille, but duo ruled out
by Ron CarneChelsea boss Frank Lampard has delivered the latest injury news on his squad and there are mixed results ahead of the Lille clash.
The Blues face the French outfit on Tuesday night looking to secure their place in the knockout stage of the Champions League.
SEE MORE: Antonio Conte eyeing reunion with Chelsea ace in January to bolster Inter squad
They’ll begin the night in third place in Group H behind Ajax and Valencia, but they’ll be focused on doing their job and securing all three points and hope that one of the two teams slip up to allow them to advance at their expense.
In turn, Lampard will have been desperately hoping to have as close to a fully-fit squad at his disposal as possible, but there is mixed news on the injury front.
As noted in the club’s tweets below in his pre-match press conference on Monday afternoon, the Chelsea boss has revealed that Antonio Rudiger will be included in the squad tomorrow, and given the quality and experience that the German international brings to the team, that will be seen as a major boost for the side.
Chelsea have conceded 24 goals in 16 Premier League games so far this season, which gives them the worst defensive record of the top 11 sides in the standings.
With that in mind, getting Rudiger back will surely help them try to shore things up at the back and so they’ll be pleased to see him named in the squad as he is seemingly stepping up his recovery having been restricted to just one appearance for the senior side so far this season.
However, there was also less positive news from the Blues chief, as he confirmed that both Fikayo Tomori and Olivier Giroud would be missing through injury, and so that’s a double blow for Chelsea.
While Tomori has been a key figure at the back so far this season, Giroud hasn’t been used as much but is still a key option as he offers a different dynamic in attack. With Chelsea potentially chasing goals on Tuesday night, it will be a setback not to be able to call on the French international.
Nevertheless, Lampard will hope that he still has enough quality available to get the job done in midweek.


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Embark on adventures with your Discord friends through SOVEREIGNTY! Sovereignyu is a bot that allows members of the servers in which it is embdedded to be able to team up in order to complete quests in an RPG fashion. It has already been encoded with a sample adventure for Discord members to try out, but anyone with a Discord accounthas the ability to create their very own adventure: including you!
The bot has been built using discord.py and the images have been taken from pexels.com’s API and Unsplash.com. All of the code has been written in Python. This bot allows all of the members of any Discord server to create their own fictional characters who can be used within RPG style games created by admins in the server. Outside of the RPGs, the characters can be used within the server’s world; users can have jobs, and are able to care for their character. After the bot is added to a server, members can create their own characters and choose their own profession. Members can use these characters within the server’s environment, their own custom RPG adventures, or the sample RPG that has been provided.
The developers of this bot are continuously working on improving the sample quests that are provided by the bot and the choices available to the members that decide to use it! There will be new features coming up in the future, but with the release of Sovereignty comes one sample campaign for Discord members to enter, whether individually or with others, a chance to customize characters including their names and professions, and different ways your campaign can end! If you're interested in the mystery of the Forgotten Kingdom or wish to create and defeat your own quests with a team, add Sovereignty into your Discord Server!