Towers of Midnight

by Robert Jordan; Brandon Sanderson

  "I don't see the need for sneaking," Grady said from behind. "Pardon, my Lord, but you seem to be making this a larger problem than it is."

  Perrin looked back at the leathery man. "They're Whitecloaks, Grady. They're always a large problem."

  "They won't have anyone who can channel the One Power." Grady shrugged, hands clasped behind his back as he walked. With the black coat, the pin and the increasingly soldierlike attitude, he was looking less and less like a farmer. "Neald is feeling better. He and I could pound those Children down until they give us what we want."

  Perrin nodded. He hated the idea of letting the Asha'man loose with impunity. The scent of burned flesh in the air, the earth ripped apart and broken. The scents of Dumai's Wells. However, he couldn't afford another distraction like Maiden. If there were no other choice, he'd give the order.

  Not yet, though. There are no coincidences with ta'veren. The wolves, the Whitecloaks. Things he had been outrunning for some time were returning to hunt him. He'd pushed the Children out of the Two Rivers. Many of the men who had been with him then now followed him here.

  "Perhaps it will come to that," Perrin said to Grady, still walking. "But maybe not. We've got a larger force than they do, and with that blasted

  wolfhead banner finally taken down, they may not realize who we are. We fly the banner of the Queen of Ghealdan, and they're passing through Al-liandre's territory. Likely they saw the supplies in our people's carts and decided to 'protect them.' Some discussion, perhaps a little intimidation, may be enough to persuade them to return our people."

  Elyas nodded, and Grady seemed to agree, though Perrin wasn't convinced by his own words. The Whitecloaks had haunted him since his early days out of the Two Rivers. Dealing with them had never been simple.

  It felt like the time had come. Time to make an end to his troubles with them, one way or another.

  He continued his rounds, arriving at the Aiel section of the camp. He nodded at a pair of Maidens lounging on guard with relaxed alertness. They didn't stand up or salute—which suited him fine—though they did nod. He'd apparently gained great ji in their eyes by the way he'd planned, then accomplished, the attack on the Shaido.

  The Aiel maintained their own guard posts, and he had no reason to inspect them. But he included them in his rounds anyway. It seemed that if he was going to visit the other sections of camp, he should do it here, too.

  Grady stopped suddenly and spun toward the Wise Ones' tents.

  "What?" Perrin asked urgently, scanning the camp. He couldn't see anything unusual.

  Grady smiled. "I think they've managed it." He started into the Aiel camp, ignoring the glares several Maidens gave him. They might very well have tossed him out, Asha'man or no, if Perrin hadn't been there.

  Neald, Perrin thought. He's been working with the Aes Sedai to figure out circles. If Grady had seen something in the weaves . . .

  Perrin followed, and soon they reached a ring of Wise One tents in the center of the Aiel camp, the area between them dried—perhaps by weaves—and the ground packed down. Neald, Edarra and Masuri sat there. Fager Neald was a young Murandian with a mustache that curled to points. He wore no pins on the collar of his black coat, though he'd likely be promoted as soon as the group returned from their excursion. He'd grown in Power since they'd begun.

  He was still pale from the snakebites he'd taken, but looked much better than he had only a few days back. He was smiling, staring at the air in front of him, and he smelled exuberant.

  A large gateway split the air. Perrin grunted. It appeared to lead back to a place where they'd camped several weeks ago—an open field of no real note.

  'It's working?" Grady said, kneeling down beside Neald.

  "It's beautiful, Jur," Neald said softly. His voice bore no hint of the bravado he often displayed. "I can feelsaidar. It's like I'm more complete now."

  "You're channeling it?" Perrin asked.

  "No. I don't need to. I can use it."

  "Use it how?" Grady asked, eager.

  "I . . . It's hard to explain. The weaves are saidin, but I seem to be able to strengthen them with saidar. So long as I can make a gateway on my own it appears that I can increase the Power—and size—with what the women lend me. Light! It's wonderful. We should have done this months ago."

  Perrin glanced at the two women, Masuri and Edarra. Neither seemed as exultant as Neald. Masuri looked a little sick, and she smelled of fear. Edarra smelled curious and wary. Grady had mentioned that creating a circle this way seemed to require the men to gain control over the women.

  "We'll send the scouting group through to Cairhien soon, then," Perrin said, fingering the blacksmith's puzzle in his pocket. "Grady, arrange with the Aiel about that mission, set up the gateways as they ask."

  "Yes, my Lord," Grady said, rubbing his leathery face. "I should probably learn this technique rather than continuing on rounds. Though there's something I'll be wanting to talk to you about first. If you've the time."

  "If you wish," Perrin said, stepping away from the group. To the side, several of the other Wise Ones came forward and told Neald it was their turn to try the circle with him. They didn't act at all as if Neald were in charge, and he was quick to obey. He'd been walking lightly around the Aiel since he'd said something a little too frisky to a Maiden and ended up playing Maiden's Kiss.

  "What is this about, Grady?" Perrin asked once they were a little way off.

  "Well, Neald and I are both well enough to make gateways, it seems," Grady said. "I was wondering if I might. . ." He seemed hesitant. "Well, if I might have leave to slip over to the Black Tower for an afternoon, to see my family."

  That's right, Perrin thought. He's got a wife and a son. The Asha'man didn't often talk about them. Actually, he didn't often talk about much.

  "I don't know, Grady," Perrin said, glancing up at the darkly clouded sky. "We have Whitecloaks ahead, and there's still no telling for sure if those Shaido will loop around and try to ambush us. I'm loath to be without you until I know we're someplace safe."

  "It needn't be for long, my Lord," Grady said earnestly. Perrin sometimes forgot how young the man was, only six or seven years older than himself. Grady seemed so much older in that black coat, with his sun-darkened face.

  "We'll find a time," Perrin said. "Soon. I don't want to upset anything until we have word of what's been happening since we left." Information could be potent. Balwer had taught him that.

  Grady nodded, looking placated, though Perrin hadn't given him any-thing definite. Light! Even the Asha'man were starting to smell like people ho saw him as their lord. They'd been so aloof when this all began.

  "You never worried about this before, Grady," Perrin said. "Has something changed?"

  "Everything," Grady said softly. Perrin got a whiff of his scent. Hopeful "It changed a few weeks back. But of course you don't know. Nobody knows. Fager and I weren't certain at first, and we weren't sure if we should tell anyone for fear of sounding delusional."

  "Know what?"

  "My Lord, the taint. It's gone'.'

  Perrin frowned. Was this madness speaking? But Grady didn't smell mad.

  "It happened on that day," Grady said, "when we saw something to the north. My Lord, I know it sounds unbelievable, but it is true'.'

  "Seems the sort of thing Rand might have been about," Perrin said, and the colors swirled in front of him. He banished them. "If you say it, I'll trust you, Grady. But what does this have to do with the Black Tower and your family? You want to go see if other Asha'man agree?"

  "Oh, they'll agree," Grady said. "It's . . . well, my Lord, I'm a simple man. Sora, she's always been the thinker. I do what needs doing, and that's that. Well, joining the Black Tower, that was something that needed doing. I knew what was going to happen when I was tested. I knew it was in me. It was in my father, you see. We don't talk about it, but it was there. Reds found him young, right after I was born.

  "When I joined the Lord Dragon, I knew what woul
d happen to me. A few more years and I'd be gone. Might as well spend them fighting. The Lord Dragon told me I was a soldier, and a soldier can't leave his duty. So I haven't asked to go back before now. You needed me."

  "That's changed?"

  My Lord, the taint is gone. I'm not going to go mad. That means . . . well, I always had a reason to fight. But now I've got a reason to live, too."

  Looking into the man's eyes, Perrin understood. What must it have been like? Knowing that you'd eventually go mad and need to be executed. Likely by your friends, who would call it a mercy.

  That was what Perrin had sensed in the Asha'man all along, the reason they held themselves apart, often seeming so somber. Everyone else fought for life. The Asha'man . . . they'd fought to die.

  That's how Rand feels, Perrin thought, watching the colors swirl again and his friend appear. He was riding his large black horse through a city with muddy streets, speaking with Nynaeve, who rode beside him.

  Perrin shook his head and banished the image. "We'll get you home Grady," he promised. "You'll have some time with her before the end comes."

  Grady nodded, glancing at the sky as a low rumble of thunder came from the north. "I just want to talk to her, you know? And I need to see little Gadren again. I won't recognize the lad."

  "I'm sure he's a handsome child, Grady."

  Grady laughed. It felt odd, but good, to hear that from the man. "Handsome? Gadren? No, my Lord, he might be big for his age, but he's about as pretty as a stump. Still, I love him something fierce." He shook his head, amused. "But I should be off learning this trick with Neald. Thank you, my Lord."

  Perrin smiled, watching him go as a Maiden came hurrying into camp. She reported to the Wise Ones, but spoke loud enough to let Perrin hear. "There is a stranger riding along the road toward camp. He flies a flag of peace, but he wears the clothing of these Children of the Light."

  Perrin nodded, gathering his guards. As he hastened toward the front of the camp, Tarn appeared and fell in beside him. They arrived just as the Whitecloak approached the first guard posts. The man rode a brilliant white gelding, and he carried a long pole with a white banner. His white clothing— mail with a tabard under the cloak—bore a yellow sunburst on the breast.

  Perrin felt a sharp sinking feeling. He recognized this man. Dain Bornhald.

  "I come to speak with the criminal Perrin Aybara," Bornhald announced in a loud voice, pulling to a stop.

  "I'm here, Bornhald," Perrin called, stepping out.

  Bornhald looked at him. "It is you. The Light has delivered you to us."

  "Unless it has also delivered you an army three or four times the size of the one you have now," Perrin called, "then I doubt very much that it will matter."

  "We have in our possession people who claim fealty to you, Aybara."

  "Well, you can let them ride on back to our camp, and we'll be on our way."

  The young Whitecloak turned his mount to the side, scowling. "We have unfinished business, Darkfriend."

  "No need for this to turn nasty, Bornhald," Perrin said. "The way I see it, we can still each go our own way."

  "The Children would rather die than leave justice undone," Dain said,

  hen spat to the side. "But I will leave that for the Lord Captain Com-ander to explain. He wishes to see you for himself. I have been ordered to me and tell you that he is waiting beside the road a short ride ahead. He would like you to meet with him."

  "You think I'm going to walk into such an obvious trap?" Perrin asked.

  Bornhald shrugged. "Come or do not. My Lord Captain Commander is a man of honor, and swears by oath you will return safely—which is more than I'd have given a Darkfriend. You may bring your Aes Sedai^if you have them, for safety." With that, Bornhald turned his mount and galloped away.

  Perrin stood thoughtfully, watching him retreat.

  "You're not really thinking of going, are you, son?" Tarn asked.

  "I'd rather know for certain who I'm facing," Perrin said. "And we did ask for parley. Maybe bargain for our people back. Burn me, Tarn. I have to at least try before attacking them."

  Tarn sighed, but nodded.

  "He mentioned Aes Sedai," Perrin said, "but not Asha'man. I'll bet he doesn't know much about them. Go have Grady dress like a Two Rivers man and tell him to report to me, along with Gaul and Sulin. Ask Edarra if she'll join us too. But don't tell my wife about this. We five will go on ahead and see if the Whitecloaks will really meet with us peacefully. If something goes wrong, we'll have Grady ready to get us out by gateway."

  Tarn nodded and hurried away. Perrin waited nervously until Tam returned with Gaul, Sulin and Edarra. Grady came a few minutes later, wearing a brown wool cloak and brown and green clothing borrowed from one of the Two Rivers men. He carried a longbow, but walked like a soldier, with his back straight, his eyes keen as he looked about him. There was a particular air of danger to him that no common villager would bear. Hopefully, it wouldn't spoil the disguise.

  The six of them broke away from camp, and blessedly, Faile didn't seem to have heard what was happening. Perrin would bring her if there was a longer parley or discussion, but he intended this trip to be quick, and he needed to be able to move without worrying about her.

  They went on foot, and found the Whitecloaks a short distance ahead down the road. There looked to be only about a dozen of them, standing near a small tent that had been set up beside the road. They were upwind, which relaxed Perrin a little. He caught scents of anger and disgust, but it didn't feel like a trap to him.

  As he and the others neared, someone stepped from the small tent,

  wearing white. The tall man had fine features and short, dark hair. Most women would probably call him handsome. He smelled . . . better than the other Whitecloaks. They had a wild scent to them, like that of a rabid animal. This leader of theirs smelled calm, and not sickly at all.

  Perrin glanced toward his companions.

  "I do not like this, Perrin Aybara," Edarra said, looking from side to side. "These Children have a sense of wrongness about them."

  "Archers could hit us from those trees," Tarn said with a grunt, nodding to a stand in the distance.

  "Grady, you're holding the Power?" Perrin asked.

  "Of course."

  "Be ready, just in case," Perrin said, then stepped forward toward the small group of Whitecloaks. Their leader studied Perrin with hands clasped behind his back. "Golden eyes," the man said. "So it is true."

  "You're the Lord Captain Commander?" Perrin asked.

  "I am."

  "What will it take for you to release the people of mine you're holding?"

  "My men tell me they tried such an exchange once," the Whitecloak leader said. "And that you deceived them and betrayed them."

  "They had kidnapped innocents," Perrin said. "And demanded my life in return. Well, I took my people back. Don't force me to do the same thing here."

  The Whitecloak leader narrowed his eyes. He smelled thoughtful. "I will do what is right, Goldeneyes. The cost is irrelevant. My men tell me you murdered several Children a few years back, and have never known justice for it. That you lead Trollocs to attack villages."

  "Your men are not very reliable," Perrin said with a growl. "I want a more formal parley, where we can sit down and discuss. Not something improvised like this."

  "I doubt that will be needed," the Whitecloak leader said. "I am not here to bargain. I merely wanted to see you for myself. You wish your people freed? Meet my army on the field of battle. Do this, and I will release the captives, regardless of the outcome. They are obviously not soldiers. I will let them go."

  "And if I refuse?" Perrin asked.

  "Then it will not bode . . . well for their health."

  Perrin ground his teeth.

  "Your force will face ours under the Light," the Whitecloak leader said. "Those are our terms."

  Perrin glanced to the side. Grady met his eyes, and there was an obvious

  question in them.
He could take the Whitecloak leader captive right here, with barely a thought.

  perrin was tempted. But they had come under the Whitecloak's oath f safety. He would not break the peace. Instead, he turned, and led his people back toward his camp.

  Galad watched Aybara withdraw. Those golden eyes were unsettling. He had discounted Byar's insistence that this man was not merely a Dark-friend, but Shadowspawn. However, looking into those eyes, Galad was no longer certain he could dismiss those claims.

  To the side, Bornhald let out a breath. "I can't believe you wanted to do this. What if he had brought Aes Sedai? We couldn't have stopped the One

  Power."

  "They would not have harmed me," Galad said. "And besides, if Aybara had the ability to assassinate me here with the One Power, he could have done the same to me in my camp. But if he is as you and Child Byar say, then he worries greatly about his image. He didn't lead Trollocs against the Two Rivers directly. He pretended to defend them." Such a man would act with subtlety. Galad had been safe.

  He'd wanted to see Aybara himself, and he was glad he had. Those eyes . . . they were almost a condemnation by themselves. And Aybara had reacted to the mention of the murdered Whitecloaks, stiffening. Beyond that, there was the talk his people gave of him in alliance with the Sean-chan and having with him men who could channel.

  Yes, this Aybara was a dangerous man. Galad had been worried about committing his forces to fighting here, but the Light would see them through it. Better to defeat this Aybara now, than to wait and face him at the Last Battle. As quickly as that, he made his decision. The right decision. They would fight.

  "Come," Galad said, waving to his men. "Let's get back to camp."

  CHAPTER

  11

  An Unexpected Letter

  They can't possibly think I'll sign this," Elayne said, tossing the sheaf of papers onto the floor beside her chair. "It's unlikely that they do," Dyelin said. Her golden hair was pristine, her firm face controlled, her slim body poised. The woman was perfect! It was unfair that she should look so pristine while Elayne felt like a sow, fattened up and ripe for the slaughter.