“Rand,” Perrin said, “that’s the most reasonable thing anyone has said on this topic. Have you explained it that way to Egwene?”
“She’s not a blacksmith, my friend.” Rand smiled.
“She’s smart, Rand. Smarter than either of us. She’ll understand if you explain it the right way.”
“We shall see,” Rand said. “Tomorrow.”
Perrin stopped walking, his face lit by the glow of Rand’s Power-summoned orb. His camp, beside Rand’s, contained a force as large as any on the field. Rand still found it incredible that Perrin had gathered so many, including—of all things—the Whitecloaks. Rand’s eyes-and-ears indicated that everyone in Perrin’s camp seemed loyal to him. Even the Wise Ones and Aes Sedai with him were more inclined to do what Perrin said than not.
Sure as the wind and the sky, Perrin had become a king. A different kind of king than Rand—a king of his people, who lived among them. Rand couldn’t take that same path. Perrin could be a man. Rand had to be something more, for a little time yet. He had to be a symbol, a force that everyone could rely upon.
That was terribly tiring. Not all of it was physical fatigue, but instead something deeper. Being what people needed was wearing on him, grinding as surely as a river cut at a mountain. In the end, the river would always win.
“I’ll support you in this, Rand,” Perrin said. “But I want you to promise me that you won’t let it come to blows. I won’t fight Elayne. Going up against the Aes Sedai would be worse. We can’t afford to squabble.”
“There won’t be fighting.”
“Promise me.” Perrin’s face grew so hard, one could have broken rocks against it. “Promise me, Rand.”
“I promise it, my friend. I’ll bring us to the Last Battle united.”
“That’ll do, then.” Perrin walked into his camp, nodding to the sentries. Two Rivers men, both of them—Reed Soalen and Kert Wagoner. They saluted Perrin, then eyed Rand and bowed somewhat awkwardly.
Reed and Kert. He’d known them both—Light, he’d looked up to them, as a child—but Rand had grown accustomed to people he’d known treating him as a stranger. He felt the mantle of the Dragon Reborn harden upon him.
“My Lord Dragon,” Kert said. “Are we ... I mean . . .” He gulped and looked at the sky, and the clouds that seemed to be—despite Rand’s presence—creeping in on them. “Things look bad, don’t they?”
“The storms are often bad, Kert,” Rand said. “But the Two Rivers survives them. Such it will do again.”
“But . . ” Kert said again. “It looks bad. Light burn me, but it does.”
“It will be as the Wheel wills,” Rand said, glancing northward. “Peace, Kert, Reed,” Rand said softly. “The Prophecies have nearly all been fulfilled. This day was seen, and our tests are known. We do not walk into them unaware.”
He hadn’t promised them they would win or that they would survive, but both men stood up straighter and nodded, smiling. People liked to know that there was a plan. The knowledge that someone was in control might be the strongest comfort that Rand could offer them.
“That’s enough bothering the Lord Dragon with your questions,” Perrin said. “Make sure you guard this post well—no dozing, Kert, and no dicing.”
Both men saluted again as Perrin and Rand passed into the camp. There was more cheer here than there was in other camps on the Field. The campfires seemed faintly brighter, the laughter faintly louder. It was as if the Two Rivers folk had managed, somehow, to bring home with them.
“You lead them well,” Rand said softly, moving quickly beside Perrin, who nodded toward those out at night.
“They shouldn’t need me to tell them what to do, and that’s that.” However, when a messenger came running into camp, Perrin was immediately in charge. He called the spindly youth by name and, seeing the boy’s flushed face and trembling legs—he was frightened of Rand—Perrin pulled him aside and spoke softly, but firmly, with him.
Perrin sent the boy off to find Lady Faile, then stepped over. “I need to talk to Rand again.”
“You’re talking to—”
“I need the real Rand, not the man who’s learned to talk like an Aes Sedai.”
Rand sighed. “It really is me, Perrin,” he protested. “I’m more me than I’ve been for ages.”
“Yes, well, I don’t like talking to you when your emotions are all masked.”
A group of Two Rivers men passed and saluted. He felt a sudden spike of cold solitude at seeing those men and knowing he could never be one of them again. It was hardest with the Two Rivers men. But he did let himself be more . . . relaxed, for Perrin’s sake.
“So, what was it?” he asked. “What did the messenger say?”
“You were right to be worried,” Perrin said. “Rand, Caemlyn has fallen. It’s overrun with Trollocs.”
Rand felt his face grow hard.
“You’re not surprised,” Perrin said. “You’re worried, but not surprised.
No, I’m not,” Rand admitted. “I thought it would be the south where they struck—I’ve heard word of Trolloc sightings there, and I’m half-certain that Demandred is involved. He has never been comfortable without an army. But Caemlyn . . . yes, it’s a clever strike. I told you they would try to distract us. If they can undercut Andor and draw her away, my alliance grows much shakier.”
Perrin glanced at where Elayne’s camp was set up right beside that of Egwene. “But wouldn’t it be good for you if Elayne ran off? She’s on the other side of this confrontation.”
“There is no other side, Perrin. There is one side, with a disagreement on how that side should proceed. If Elayne isn’t here to be part of the meeting, it will undermine everything I’m trying to accomplish. She’s probably the most powerful of all the rulers.”
Rand could feel her, of course, through the bond. Her spike of alarm let him know that she’d received this information. Should he go to her? Perhaps he could send Min. She had gotten up, and was moving away from the tent where he’d left her. And—
He blinked. Aviendha. She was here, at Merrilor. She hadn’t been here moments ago, had she? Perrin glanced at him, and he didn’t bother to wipe the shock from his face.
“We can’t let Elayne leave,” Rand said.
“Not even to protect her homeland?” Perrin asked, incredulous.
“If the Trollocs have already taken Caemlyn, then it’s too late for Elayne to do anything meaningful. Elayne’s forces will focus on evacuation. She doesn’t need to be there for that, but she does need to be here. Tomorrow morning.”
How could he make certain she stayed? Elayne reacted poorly to being told what to do—all women did—but if he implied . . .
“Rand,” Perrin said, “what if we sent in the Asha’man? All of them? We could make a fight of it at Caemlyn.”
“No,” Rand said, though the word hurt. “Perrin, if the city really is overrun—I’ll send men through gateways to be certain—then it’s lost. Taking back those walls would take far too much effort, at least right now. We cannot let this coalition break apart before I have a chance to forge it together. Unity will preserve us. If each of us goes running off to put out fires in our homelands, then we will lose. That’s what this attack is about.”
“I suppose that’s possible . . Perrin said, fingering his hammer.
“The attack might unnerve Elayne, make her more eager to act,” Rand said, considering a dozen different lines of action. “Perhaps this will make her more vulnerable to agreeing with my plan. This could be a good thing.” Perrin frowned.
How quickly I’ve learned to use others. He had learned to laugh again. He had learned to accept his fate, and to charge toward it smiling. He had learned to be at peace with who he had been, what he had done.
That understanding would not stop him from using the tools given him. He needed them, needed them all. The difference now was that he would see the people they were, not just the tools he would use. So he told himself.
“I still t
hink we should do something to help Andor,” Perrin said, scratching his beard. “How did they sneak in, do you think?”
“By Waygate,” Rand said absently.
Perrin grunted. “Well, you said that Trollocs can’t Travel through gateways; could they have learned how to fix that?”
“Pray to the Light they haven’t,” Rand said. “The only Shadowspawn they managed to make that could go through gateways were gholam, and Aginor wasn’t foolish enough to make more than a few of those. No, I’d bet against Mat himself that this was the Caemlyn Waygate. I thought she had that thing guarded!”
“If it was the Waygate, we can do something,” Perrin said. “We can’t have Trollocs rampaging in Andor; if they leave Caemlyn, they’ll be at our backs, and that will be a disaster. But if they’re coming in at a single point, we might be able to disrupt their invasion with an attack on that point.” Rand grinned.
“What’s so funny?”
“At least I have an excuse for knowing and understanding things no youth from the Two Rivers should.”
Perrin snorted. “Go jump in the Winespring Water. You really think this is Demandred?”
“It’s exactly the sort of thing he’d try. Separate your foes, then crush them one at a time. It’s one of the oldest strategies in warfare.”
Demandred himself had discovered it in the old writings. They’d known nothing of war when the Bore had first opened. Oh, they’d thought they understood it, but it had been the understanding of the scholar looking back on something ancient, dusty.
Of all those to turn to the Shadow, Demandred’s betrayal seemed the most tragic. The man could have been a hero. Should have been a hero.
I’m to blame for that, too, Rand thought. If I’d offered a hand instead of a smirk, if I'd congratulated instead of competed. If I’d been the man then that I am now. . .
Never mind that. He had to send to Elayne. The proper course was to send help for evacuating the city, Asha’man and loyal Aes Sedai to make gateways and free as many people as possible—and to make certain that for now, the Trollocs remained in Caemlyn.
“Well, I guess those memories of yours are good for something, then,” Perrin said.
“Do you want to know the thing that twists my brain in knots, Perrin?” Rand said softly. “The thing that gives me shivers, like the cold breath of the Shadow itself? The taint is what made me mad and what gave me memories from my past life. They came as Lews Therin whispering to me. But that very insanity is the thing giving me the clues I need to win. Don’t you see? If I win this, it will be the taint itself that led to the Dark One’s fall.”
Perrin whistled softly.
Redemption, Rand thought. When I tried this last time, my madness destroyed us. This time, it will save us.
“Go to your wife, Perrin,” Rand said, glancing at the sky. “This is the last night of anything resembling peace you shall know before the end. I’ll investigate and see how bad things are in Andor.” He looked back at his friend. “I will not forget my promise. Unity must come before all else. I lost last time precisely because I threw unity aside.”
Perrin nodded, then rested a hand on Rand’s shoulder. “The Light illumine you.”
“And you, my friend.”
CHAPTER 2
The Choke of an Ajah
Pevara did her very best to pretend that she was not terrified.
If these Asha’man had known her, they’d have realized that sitting still and quiet was not her natural state. She retreated to basic Aes Sedai training: appearing in control when she felt anything but.
She forced herself to rise. Canler and Emarin had withdrawn to visit the Two Rivers lads and make sure they were going about in pairs. That left only her and Androl again. He quietly tinkered with his leather straps as the rain continued outside. He used two needles at once to stitch, crossing the holes on either side. The man had the concentration of a master craftsman.
Pevara strolled over, causing him to look up sharply when she drew close. She smothered a smile. She might not look it, but she could move silently, when necessary.
She stared out of the windows. The rain had grown worse, splashing curtains of water against the glass. “After so many weeks of looking as if it would storm at any moment, it finally comes.”
“Those clouds had to break open eventually,” Androl said.
“The rain doesn’t feel natural,” she said, hands clasped behind her. She could feel the coldness through the glass. “It doesn’t ebb and flow. Just the same steady torrent. A great deal of lightning, but very little thunder.
“You think it’s one of those?” Androl asked. He didn’t need to say what “those” meant. Earlier in the week, common people in the Tower—none of the Asha’man—had begun bursting into flame. Just . . . flame, inexplicably. They’d lost some forty people. Many still blamed a rogue Asha’man, though the men had sworn nobody had been channeling nearby.
She shook her head, watching a group of people trudge past on the muddy street outside. She had been one of those, at first, who had called the deaths the work of an Asha’man gone mad. Now she accepted these events, and other oddities, as something far worse.
The world was unraveling.
She needed to be strong. Pevara herself had devised the plan of bringing women here to bond these men, though Tarna had suggested it. She couldn’t let them discover how disturbing she found it to be trapped in here, facing down enemies who could force a person to the Shadow. Her only allies men who, only months ago, she would have pursued with diligence and gentled without remorse.
She sat down on the stool Emarin had used earlier. “I would like to discuss this ‘plan’ you are developing.”
“I’m not sure I’ve actually developed one yet, Aes Sedai.”
“I might be able to offer some suggestions.”
“I wouldn’t say no to hearing them,” Androl said, though he narrowed his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Those people outside. I don’t recognize them. And . . .”
She looked back out the window. The only light came from buildings, shining an occasional red-orange glow into the drenched night. The passersby still moved very slowly down the street, in and out of the light of windows.
“Their clothing isn’t wet,” Androl whispered.
With a chill, Pevara realized he was right. The man at the front walked with a wide-brimmed, drooping hat on his head, but it didn’t break the rain or stream water. His rustic clothing was untouched by the downpour. And the dress of the woman beside him wasn’t blowing at all in the wind. Now Pevara saw that one of the younger men was holding his hand behind him, as if pulling the reins of a pack animal—but there was no animal there.
Pevara and Androl watched in silence until the figures passed too far into the night to be seen. Visions of the dead were growing increasingly common.
“You said you had a suggestion?” Androl’s voice trembled.
“I . . . Yes.” Pevara tore her eyes away from the window. “So far, Taim’s focus has been on the Aes Sedai. My sisters have all been taken. I am the last.”
“You’re offering yourself as bait.”
“They will come for me,” she said. “It is only a matter of time.”
Androl fingered the leather strap and looked pleased with it. “We should sneak you out.”
“Is that so?” she said, eyebrow raised. “I have been elevated to the position of maiden in need of rescue, have I? Very valiant of you.”
He blushed. “Sarcasm? From an Aes Sedai? I wouldn’t have thought I’d hear that.”
Pevara laughed. “Oh my, Androl. You really don’t know anything about us, do you?”
“Honestly? No. I’ve avoided your kind for most of my life.”
“Well, considering your . . . innate tendencies, perhaps that was wise.
I couldn’t channel before.”
“But you suspected. You came here to learn.”
“I was curious,” he said. “It�
��s something I hadn’t tried before.”
Interesting, Pevara thought. Is that what drives you then, leatherworker? What has set you drifting on the winds, from place to place?
“I suspect,” she said, “you have never tried jumping off a cliff before. The fact that you haven’t done something shouldn’t always be a reason to try it.
Actually, I have jumped off a cliff. Several of them.”
She raised an eyebrow at him.
“The Sea Folk do it,” he explained. “Off into the ocean. The braver you are, the higher the cliff you choose. And you have changed the topic of the conversation again, Pevara Sedai. You are quite skilled at that.”
“Thank you.”
“The reason,” he said, holding up a finger, “that I suggested we sneak you out is because this isn’t your battle. You shouldn’t have to fall here.”
“It isn’t because you want to hurry an Aes Sedai away, out of meddling in your business?”
“I came to you for help,” Androl said. “I don’t want to be rid of you; I’ll happily use you. However, if you fall here, you do so in a fight that is not your own. That isn’t fair.”
“Let me explain something to you, Asha’man,” Pevara said, leaning in. “This is my fight. If the Shadow takes this tower, it will mean terrible things for the Last Battle. I have accepted responsibility for you and yours; I will not turn away from it so easily.”
“You’ve accepted responsibility’ for us? What does that mean?”
Ah, perhaps I shouldn’t have shared that. Still, if they were going to be allies, perhaps he needed to know.
“The Black Tower needs guidance,” she explained.
“So that’s the point of bonding us?” Androl asked. “So we can be . . . corralled, like stallions to be broken?”
“Don’t be a fool. Surely you admit the value of the White Tower’s experience.”
“I’m not sure I’d say that,” Androl said. “With experience comes a determination to be set in your ways, to avoid new experiences. You Aes Sedai all assume that the way things have been done is the only way to do them. Well, the Black Tower will not be subject to you. We can look after ourselves.
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