The man who called himself Fan, in this place at least, looked contemptuously at the other people gathered. Fools all of them, chatting about their favourite theories, giving away who they were. One fellow who kept to himself, covered in black seemed careful enough, but the pin saying "Taim is Demandred no matter what RJ says" gave him away as a Taimandrite. Fool.

Suddenly the doors swung open and a pr-agent walked in. He started staring at the people gathered. Stop staring at me like that and say something! The man who called himself Fan thought. "Your master comes," the pr-agent said. "On your bellies worms! Lest his brilliance blind you!" The name who called himself Fan was furious. One day, pr-agent, the Great Lord of the Books will choose his new executives and you will cower before them! Do you hear me? You will cower before readers! Then his thoughts were interrupted by a vision floating in the air, something became a solid figure over the pr-agent. It can`t be! It can't! "I have been known by many names" a voice said, "but the one by which you shall know me is Robert Jordan." Even unbelievers knew that was a name for the Great Lord of the Books, and blasphemy to speak for any Reader. No his true name, not James Oliver Rigney jr., but forbidden still.

The man who called himself Fan fell to his knees and started saying the catechism as if it were a charm against. All around him he heard the voices of others doing the same: "The Great Lord of the Books is my master and most heartily do I serve him to the last shred of my very soul." Inside his head he heard another voice, The Author is bound in Tor with all the Editors. Bound by Creator at the moment of Creation, but he had abandoned that voice long ago. "Lo, my master is master of the Books. Asking nothing do I serve against the Day of his coming, but I serve in the true and certain hope of books everlasting." The hand of the Creator shelters us and protects us from the Shadow. No, I serve a different master now, a different master! "Surely the faithful shall be exalted in the Land, exalted above the Unreaders, exalted above thrones. Yet humbly do I serve against the Day of Publishing. Swift come the Day of Publishing, swift come the Great Lord of the Books to guide us and write for us forever and ever." He panted as if he had finished a long run, and by the sounds around him, he was not the only one.

"Stand," a voice, surprisingly melodious, said. The man who called himself Fan stayed on his knees, and so did the others, but he risked looking up at the figure. A man, with an odd hat and a funny looking beard and a pipe. Would the Great Lord appear like a man, and an odd fellow at that? Yet the pr-agent trembled and almost cowered where it stood in his shadow. One of the Editors perhaps. The thought was only a little less painful; still it meant that the Day of Publishing came closer if the Editors were free.

"Stand" the voice said again, and this time there was more sting in it. The figure gestured with both hands. "Stand." The man who called himself Fan scrambled to his feet along with the rest of those present. "The place where you stand is in the Shadow of Tor". A few moans were audible to that. "Fear not!" the figure, Robert Jordan`s figure, said a hint mockingly. "The Day of Publishing is at hand. Does it not tell you that I am here among you few favoured of your brothers and sisters? Soon the day of Publishing will come, and you shall read and find out. So I have promised and so shall it be. You shall read and find out without end." A few excited mutters followed.

"But still there is much to be done." An image of thirteen men and women appeared beside the image of RJ. "These are Posters of the Theoryland messageboard, RJ said. "Oh yes, I almost forgot the Darkassociates", he added quickly, and a few more images appeared. "Their superb posting skills are threatening my books. They are about to unravel every secret before the time is right." The pr-agent trembled when he looked at the images, but out of hate rather than fear, the man who called himself Fan thought. "The Chosen of Theoryland!" One man cried out. "We are to kill them, Great Lord?" "Perhaps", RJ said simply, "or perhaps not. Perhaps they can be turned to our use. Sooner or later it will be so. With this Book or another."

Another book? The man who called himself Fan thought. What do I care what happens around another book if I grow old and die waiting for this one to come out? He noticed that everyone was silent, except for the Taimandrite who was nodding and answering someone no one else could see. So, they received their orders individually. Suddenly RJ's face was all he could see. "Are you faithful, Fan?" The hint of mockery sent a chill down his spine. "I am faithful, Great Lord. I cannot hide from you." "No you cannot."