The Fires of Heaven
Elaida: Fain, I am looking for a new advisor. Tell me your qualifications.

Fain: Well, I am filthy, insane, and evil.

Elaida: You’re hired. Advise me.

Fain: You must become crazier. Look how well it's done for me.

Elaida: Good advice.
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Gareth Bryne: I used to control Andor’s armies. Now I preside over local trials involving livestock burning. You have

killed a man’s livestock. You will work for me. I suddenly love you.

Siuan: I used to control the White Tower. Now I hide in barns. I agree to work for you. I must run away. And I

suddenly love you.
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Egwene: Rand al’Thor! As an honorary Aes Sedai, you must listen to me!

Rand: I thought you were an honorary Aiel.

Egwene: I’m both. It’s called "Aiel Sedai." It’s when you’re arrogant enough for two cultures.
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Nynaeve: I’m wearing a green silk dress with slashes of white with snowy white lace in a floral pattern. It has the

faces of cherubs sewn into the sides, and the picture of deer running gracefully through a wooded stream in the

skirt. It shows generous cleavage.

Elayne: I’m wearing a dark blue silk dress with a pattern of black lace. It has actual thread-of-gold woven into the

bodice, telling the story of my childhood, including the part when I skinned my knee trying to climb a leatherleaf

tree in Master Hanson’s orchard. It shows generous cleavage.

Nynaeve: I miss good, stout Two Rivers woolens.

Elayne: Maybe you could by some wool dresses.

Nynaeve: I’m far too important for that, according to my estimation of myself. Since we’re keeping only the bare

essentials on our mission to save the world, how many dresses have we packed in our wagon?

Elayne: Five hundred and eighty-four.
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Rand: Too bad no one killed Couladin when we had the chance.

Rhuarc: That would violate ji’e’toh.

Rand: ji’e’toh restricts you from stopping madmen warlords?

Rhuarc: Yes. The rule is madmen warlords can try to kill you, and everyone near you, and everyone else who isn’t near

you, and everyone they know, and everyone they thought was looking at them funny.

Rand: What does ji’e’toh let me do?

Rhuarc: You can mutter under your breath.

Rand: Shaido dogs.

Rhuarc: Now you’re getting it.
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Melaine: Sorilea, you must help me marry Bael.

Sorilea: I will give you the Offer Dagger, which you will use to stab him in the shoulder as a sign of your love.

Melaine: I hope he will club me with the Acceptance Club, which will show his acceptance of my offer.

Sorilea: Then you will whip him with the Joy Whip, which will show your joy,

Melaine: And he will pelt me with the Honeymoon Pebbles.

Sorilea: And eventually, you will attack him with the Childbirth Spear.

Melaine: Then we will all beat ourselves with the Moron Bat.
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Thom: Are you sure you don’t need help this time?

Nynaeve: How dare you insult us! We aren’t fools!

Ronde Macura: Drink this, fools.

Nynaeve: Ah, nice, delicious fool tea.
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Elayne: I can walk the highwire without the help of the Power, because I am the Daughter-Heir.

Nynaeve: I didn’t know Daughter-Heirs knew how to walk highwires.

Elayne: It’s an old tradition, dating back to when Andor was founded by a trapeze artist.
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Faile: Okay, lower that beam! And make sure there’s room in our ballroom for a third couch. And I want that well in

our back yard finished in time for dinner. And lift the chandelier to at least two spans above the dining hall. And

make sure the giant wolfhead banner over the mantel is the right shade of red. I hate when people use the dark, rust

red color. It needs to be ruby red. And the balcony over the sun porch needs to be painted pine green!

Perrin: Are you sure we need such a huge mansion?

Faile: Quiet. You aren’t even in this book.
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Rand: If only there were some way to skim ahead of Couladin. Like a Talent. Like a Skimming Talent that I might have

already rediscovered back at The Golden Bowl. That I might use to move an army to rescue Caemlyn, but probably not

Cairhien. Or even some sa’angreal that I might have already used to protect Tear, but probably not Cairhien. Oh,

well, I guess thousands must die. In Cairhien.
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Aviendha: Rand al’Thor, you gave me a bracelet that was to make me like you, and stop hating you. But all the Maidens

thought it was because you loved me, and I loved you. Which you do, and I do. But it’s supposed to be a secret, which

makes me mad. And I am mad that you thought that a nice gift would make me like you, and I am mad that wearing the

gift makes it look like I accept your love, even though I really would if you offered, which you haven’t, and won’t

until I admit my true feelings, which I won’t. Even though I say I would hate it if you tried to love me, I actually

am lying, and want desperately for you to admit your feelings to me. So here is a gift of a heron-mark sword. I hope

this can successfully heighten the sexual tension between us.

Rand: Uh, thanks for the sword.

Aviendha: Men are so complicated.
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Moiraine: Rand, I cannot advise you forever. Some day I may die. Some day I will die. Someday, I will die protecting

you from Lanfear in Cairhien.

Rand: What was that last part?

Moiraine: Uh, the Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills. In Cairhien.
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Nynaeve: When I think of Lan, I want to wear low-cut dresses.

Elayne: Yes, when I think of Rand, I want to wear low-cut dresses.

Nynaeve: Yes, men make women want to get naked.

Elayne: Yes, that’s how women show love. We get naked and walk around.

Nynaeve: When I get married, I’m throwing away all of my clothes, and just wearing my braid.

Nynaeve: We have bonded. You are my best friend.

Elayne: You are my best friend. You and Egwene, and Aviendha, and Min. You are all my best friend.

Elayne: You’re crowding me in this little wagon.

Nynaeve: I hate you.

Elayne: I hate you.

Nynaeve: I hate you and Lan, and Thom, and Juilin, and Valan Luca, and that man selling apples that leered at me the

other day. You are all my worst enemies.

Elayne: I hate you and Rand and my mother, and Galad, and that pretty boy in Tanchico who got me drunk. You are all

my worst enemies.

Nynaeve: I’m such a coward. I love you like a sister.

Elayne: You are not a coward. You are brave. I love you like a sister. You and Egwene, and Aviendha, and Min. You are

all my sisters. And that one girl who gave me an extra necklace. She is my sister also. And Anaiya Sedai. She is very

nice, like a sister. And my brother Gawyn. He is also my sister.
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Egwene: Being the biggest loudmouth is now my job.

Nynaeve: Can I still have the job of braidpuller?

Egwene: Until I get bored.
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Rand: Weiramon, you are a fool who most likely hates me. You are in charge.

Weiramon: Excellent plan, my liege. Shall I charge at the opposing army?

Rand: No. That’s a corn field.
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Aviendha: I want to sleep with you so badly that I must now run naked through a blizzard.

Rand: Maybe you don’t have to kill yourself.

Aviendha: No, my honor demands it.

Rand: That seems silly.

Aviendha: You are a wetlander, you wouldn’t understand. When Aiel love someone, our honor demands we run through

blizzards naked.

Rand: What does your honor demand if you only have a small crush on someone?

Aviendha: Then you wear a shift and sit in ice.

Rand: Perhaps you should use the Moron Bat.

Aviendha: Yes, thank you.
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Selande: Since you have taken Cairhien, I must flirt with you.

Rand: I should simply tell you to go away, but I’d rather terrify you.

Selande: That forces me to become a fake Aiel battle leader.
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Melindra: You could be a great man. Greater than the Dragon Reborn. You could conquer all the world, and make every

nation kneel before you! You could make women weep, and men gnash their teeth! You could forge the world in the image

of the Great Lord, whom I love!

Mat: What?

Melindra: Nothing. Go Light. Now look over there.

Mat: Okay. Hey, no trying to kill me!

Melindra: Damn. Go Dark.

Mat: Hm. Something she said sounded odd. I must piece it together.
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Lanfear: You slept with another girl! Now you must die!

Rand: I cannot hurt a woman. So I must laugh.

Moiraine: While he’s distracting her with his laughing, I will save the day.

Rand: All my laughing at nothing finally paid off.
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Sulin: Why do you hide your crying, Rand al’Thor? We Aiel never hide our crying.

Rand: That’s funny, because I’ve never once seen any of you cry.

Sulin: Sure we do. I stubbed my toe. Boo-hoo.

Rand: You’re faking it. Your culture sounds a lot like you’re just making it up as you go along.

Sulin: How dare you. You insult us like a Wizard of Oz!

Rand: Now you’re just copying other stories!

Sulin: Silence, Jedi.
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Dobraine: There is a rumor that Morgase is dead. And rumors are always true.

Rand: Yes, rumors are never wrong. I once heard a rumor that a fishkeeper in Aringill could fit five apples in his

mouth.

Dobraine: Must be true; it’s a rumor.

Rand: To the Skimming Mobile!

Dobraine: All that Skimming would have been nice when my city was in trouble.

Rand: What’s that?

Dobraine: Nothing. Skim away. Save Caemlyn. I’ll just return to the pile of ashes that was once my house.
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Rand: So! Rahvin! Lord Gaebril is actually you!

Rahvin: Damn. I was hoping everyone thought I was simple evil Lord Gaebril, and not evil Forsaken Rahvin.
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Nynaeve: Let’s hope that Tel’aran’rhiod will take us to Rand and Rahvin fighting in the Royal Palace. Oh. It has.
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Asmodean: You! No!

Rhuarc: Oh. Sorry. Sometimes I forget to wear pants.
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