Sex and Violence
Imagery comes in useful in conveying the confusion and surprise of a sudden physical attack. The confusing aspect of the attack is exponentially increased for a man not used to killing a woman. Especially a woman with the equivalent of Bette Davis eyes only a thousand times prettier and more entrancing:
“He had no warning. One instant she was just standing there, the next her foot was in his middle, driving out breath, doubling him over. Eyes bulging, he fought to keep his feet, to straighten, to think. Why? She spun like a dancer, backwards, and her other foot against the side of his head drove him staggering. Without a pause she leaped straight up, kicking out, her soft bootsole taking him hard flush in the face…The blade came out of his sleeve, left his hand as if floating throughout jelly. Only then did he realize what he had done and stretch out desperately, trying to snatch it back.”
Darkness
Darkness is the metaphor that defines the modern age. If one looks for it literature since the 20th century dawned, it will take but only a few days before readers find themselves struggling mightily not to find it. Darkness as metaphorical imagery comes all shapes and sizes, but it is still on the rare side when a character actually becomes the metaphor as part of the imagery:
“Instead of returning to her own body, Egwene floated in darkness. She seemed to be darkness herself, without substance. Whether her body lay up or down or sideways from her, she did not know—there was no direction here—but she knew that it was near, that she could step into it easily. All around her in the blackness, fireflies seemingly twinkled, a vast horde fading away into unimaginable distance. Those were dreams, dreams of the Aiel in the camp, dreams of men and women across Cairhien, across the world, all glittering there.”
A Princess Always
The thing about being a princess is that before and beyond anything else, what you are is a princess. One can disguise the fact (as princess often do) and one can have the disguise placed upon them (as princesses often have) but deep down inside there is one single truth about a princess that must never be forgotten: they never forget what they are:
“Elayne could not help herself. Nynaeve wielding her tongue like a needle, Cerandin stubborn as two mules, and now this. She threw back her head and screamed with frustration. When the sound died, it seemed as if the animals had quieted. Horse handlers stood about, staring at her. Coolly, she ignored them. Nothing could worm its way under her skin now. She was as calm as ice, perfectly in control of herself. `Was that a cry for help,’ Birgitte said, tilting her head, `or are you hungry? I suppose I could find a wet nurse in—'
Elayne strode away with a snarl that would have done any of the leopards proud.”
Naive Nynaeve-onomics
One thing is for sure: if Nynaeve existed in our world, she would be an anti-socialist capitalist drone. The imagery of her trying to figure out economics is a pathetic one in a way, revealing a distinct lack of intellectualized critical thinking skills, but who can blame her. She is a farmer’s daughter, after all, born into a world where the reaping the rewards of taxation offers little incentive to a person who owns all they they need:
“She supposed it was one way to find money for the poor. Simply rob anyone who was not poor. Of course, that would just make everyone poor in the end, but it might work for a time. She wondered if Uno and Ragan knew the whole of it. People who claimed they were collecting money to help others often had a way of letting a good bit stick in their own pockets, or else they liked the power that spreading it about gave them, liked it far too much. She had better feeling for the man who freely gave one copper from his own purse than for the fellow who wrested a gold crown from someone else’s.”
