Once this was through, her people would need to return to the Threefold Land. Each day in the wetlands made them weaker; she herself was an excellent example. She had grown soft there. How could one not grow soft in that place? It would have to be abandoned. Soon.
She smiled, settling back and closing her eyes for a moment, letting the day's fatigue melt away. Her future seemed so much more clear. She was to visit Rhuidean, pass through the crystal columns, then return and claim her share of Rand's heart. She would fight at the Last Battle. She would help preserve the remnant of the Aiel who survived, then bring them home where they belonged.
A sound came from outside her camp.
Aviendha opened her eyes and jumped up, embracing the Source. A piece of her was pleased that she now instinctively looked to the One Power, rather than spears that were not there. She wove a globe of light.
A woman stood in the darkness nearby, wearing Aiel garb. Not cadin'sor
or the garb of a Wise One, but normal clothing: a dark skirt and a tan blouse and shawl, a kerchief on her graying hair. She was middle-aged, and
carried no weapons. She was still.
Aviendha glanced to the sides. Was this an ambush? Or was this woman a specter? One of the dead walking? Why hadn't Aviendha heard her approach?
"Greetings, Wise One," the woman said, bowing her head. "Might I share water with you? I am traveling far, and saw your fire." The woman had furrowed skin, and she could not channel—Aviendha could sense that easily.
"I am not yet a Wise One," Aviendha said, wary. "I currently take my second path into Rhuidean."
"Then you will soon find much honor," the woman said. "I am Na-komi. I promise that I mean you no harm, child."
Suddenly, Aviendha felt foolish. The woman had approached without weapons drawn. Aviendha had been distracted by her thoughts; that was why she hadn't heard Nakomi approach. "Of course, please."
"Thank you," Nakomi said, stepping into the light and setting down her pack beside the small fire. She clicked her tongue, then drew some small branches out of her pack to build up the flames. She removed a pot for tea. "Might I have some of that water?"
Aviendha got out a waterskin. She could hardly spare a drop—she was still several days from Rhuidean—but it would give offense not to respond to the request after offering to share shade.
Nakomi took the waterskin and filled her teapot, which she then set beside the fire to warm. "It is an unexpected pleasure," Nakomi said, rifling through her pack, "to cross the path of one on her way to Rhuidean. Tell me, was your apprenticeship long?"
"Too long," Aviendha said. "Though primarily because of my own stubbornness."
"Ah," Nakomi said. "You have the air of a warrior about you, child. Tell me, are you from among those who went west? The ones who joined the one named the Car'a'carn?"
"He is the Car'a'carn" Aviendha said.
"I did not say that he was not," Nakomi said, sounding amused. She got out some tea leaves and herbs.
No. She hadn't said so. Aviendha turned her shellback, and her stomach rumbled. She'd need to share her meal with Nakomi as well.
"May I ask," Nakomi said. "What do you think of the Car'a'carn?"
I love him, Aviendha thought immediately. But she couldn't say that, "I think he has much honor. And though he is ignorant of the proper ways, he is learning."
"You have spent time with him, then?"
'Some," Aviendha said. Then, to be more honest, she added, "More than most-'
"He is a wetlander," Nakomi said, thoughtful. "And Car'a'carn. Tell me,
are the wetlands as glorious as so many say? Rivers so wide you cannot see the other side, plants so full of water they burst when squeezed?"
"The wetlands are not glorious," Aviendha said. "They are dangerous. They make us weak."
Nakomi frowned.
Who is this woman? It was not unusual to find Aiel traveling the Waste; even children learned to protect themselves. But should Nakomi not be traveling with friends, family? She did not wear the clothing of a Wise One, but there was something about her . . .
Nakomi stirred the tea, then repositioned Aviendha's shellback, placing it over the coals to cook it more evenly. From inside her pack, she drew forth several deepearth roots. Aviendha's mother had always cooked those. Nakomi placed them in a small ceramic baking box, then slid this into the coals. Aviendha hadn't realized the fire had grown so warm. Where had all those coals come from?
"You seem troubled," Nakomi said. "Far be it for me to question an apprentice Wise One. But I do see worry in your eyes."
Aviendha stifled a grimace. She would have preferred to be left alone. And yet, she had invited this woman to share her water and shade. "I am worried about our people. Dangerous times come."
"The Last Battle," Nakomi said softly. "The thing the wetlanders speak of."
"Yes. I worry about something beyond that. The wetlands, corrupting our people. Making them soft."
"But the wetlands are part of our destiny, are they not? The things the Car'a'carn is said to have revealed . . . they link us to the wetlands in curious ways. Assuming what he said was true."
"He would not lie about this," Aviendha said.
A small wake of buzzards cawed and flapped past in the dark night air. Aviendha's people's history—the things Rand al'Thor had revealed—still caused many of the Aiel grief. In Rhuidean, Aviendha would soon see this history for herself: that the Aiel had broken their vows. Aviendha's people had once followed, then abandoned, the Way of the Leaf.
Interesting thoughts you raise, apprentice," Nakomi said, pouring the tea. "Our land here is called the Three-fold Land. Three-fold, for the three things it did to us. It punished us for sin. It tested our courage. It formed an anvil to shape us."
"The Three-fold Land makes us strong. So, by leaving it, we become weak."
"But if we had to come here to be forged into something of strength"
Nakomi said, "does that not suggest that the tests we were to face-in the
wetlands—were as dangerous as the Three-fold-land itself? So dangero and difficult that we had to come here to prepare for them?" She shook her head. "Ah, but I should not argue with a Wise One, not even an apprentice. I have toh"
"There is never toh for speaking wise words," Aviendha said. "Tell me Nakomi, where is it you travel? Which sept is your own?"
"I am far from my roof," the woman said, wistful, "yet not far at all Perhaps // is far from me. I cannot answer your question, apprentice, for it is not my place to give this truth."
Aviendha frowned. What kind of answer was that?
"It seems to me," Nakomi said, "that by breaking our ancient oaths to do no violence, our people have gained great toh"
"Yes," Aviendha said. What did you do when your entire people had done something so awful? This realization was what had caused so many of the Aiel to be taken by the bleakness. They had thrown down their spears, or refused to remove the white of gai'shain, implying that their people had such great toh, it could never be met.
But they were wrong. The Aiel toh could be met—it had to be met. That was the purpose of serving the Car'a'carn, the representative of the ones to whom the Aiel had originally sworn their oaths.
"We will meet our toh" Aviendha said. "By fighting in the Last Battle."
The Aiel would therefore regain their honor. Once you paid toh, you forgot it. To remember a fault that had been repaid-was arrogant. They would be finished. They could return and no longer feel shame for what had happened in the past. Aviendha nodded to herself.
"And so," Nakomi said, handing over a cup of tea, "the Three-fold Land was our punishment. We came here to grow so that we could meet our toh"
"Yes," Aviendha said. It felt clear to her.
"So, once we have fought for the Car'a'carn, we will have met that toh. And therefore will have no reason to be punished further. If that is the case, why would we return to this land? Would that not be like seeking more punishment, once toh is met?
"
Aviendha froze. But no, that was silly. She did not want to argue with Nakomi on the point, but the Aiel belonged in the Three-fold Land.
"People of the Dragon," Nakomi said, sipping her tea. "That is what we
are, Serving the Dragon was the point behind everything we did. Our cus-toms, our raids on each other, our harsh training . . . our very way of life"
"Yes," Aviendha said.
'And so," Nakomi said softly, "once Sightblinder is defeated, what is left for us? Perhaps this is why so many refused to follow the Car'a'carn. Because they worried at what it meant. Why continue the old ways? How do we find honor in raiding, in killing one another, if we are no longer pre-naring for such an important task? Why grow harder? For the sake of being hard itself?"
"I . . ."
"I'm sorry," Nakomi said. "I've let myself ramble again. I am prone to it, I fear. Here, let us eat."
Aviendha started. Surely the roots weren't done yet. However, Nakomi pulled them out, and they smelled wonderful. She cut the shellback, fishing a pair of tin plates from her pack. She seasoned the meat and roots, then passed a plate to Aviendha.
She tasted hesitantly. The food was delicious. Wonderful, even. Better than many a feast she'd had in fine palaces back in the wetlands. She stared at the plate, amazed.
"If you'll excuse me," Nakomi said. "I need to see to nature." She smiled, rising, then shuffled off into the darkness.
Aviendha ate quietly, disturbed by what had been said. Was not a wonderful meal like this, cooked over a fire and made from humble ingredients, proof that the luxury of the wetlands wasn't needed?
But what was the purpose of the Aiel now? If they did not wait for the Car'a'carn, what did they do? Fight, yes. And then? Continue to kill one another on raids? To what end?
She finished her meal, then thought for a long time. Too long. Nakomi did not return. Worried, Aviendha went to search for her, but found no trace of the woman.
Upon returning to the fire, Aviendha saw that Nakomi's pack and plate were gone. She waited up for a time, but the woman did not return.
Eventually, Aviendha went to sleep, feeling troubled.
CHAPTER
40
A Making
Perrin sat alone on a tree stump, eyes closed and face to the dark sky. The camp was situated, the gateway closed, and reports taken. Perrin finally had time to rest.
That was dangerous. Resting let him think. Thinking brought him memories. Memories brought pain.
He could smell the world on the wind. Layers of scents, swirling together. The camp around him: sweaty people, spices for cooking, soaps for cleaning, horse dung, emotions. The hills around them: dried pine needles, mud from a stream, the carcass of a dead animal. The world beyond: hints of dust from the distant road, a stand of lavender that somehow survived in the dying world.
There was no pollen. There were no wolves. Both seemed terrible signs to him.
He felt sick. Physically ill, as if his stomach were filled with muddy swamp water, rotting moss and bits of dead beetles. He wanted to scream. He wanted to find Slayer and kill him, pound fists on the man's face until the blood engulfed it.
Footsteps approached. Faile. "Perrin? Do you want to talk?"
He opened his eyes. He should be crying, screaming. But he felt so cold. Cold and furious. Those two didn't go together for him.
His tent had been set up nearby; its flaps fluttered in the wind. Nearby, Gaul reclined against a leatherleaf sapling. In the distance, one of the farri-ers worked late. Soft peals in the night. "I failed, Faile," Perrin whispered. "You got the ter'angreal" she said, kneeling beside him. "You saved the people."
"And still Slayer beat us," he said bitterly. "A pack of five of us together weren't enough to fight him."
Perrin had felt this way when he'd found his family dead, killed by Trollocs. How many was the Shadow going to take from him by the time this was done? Hopper should have been safe in the wolf dream.
Foolish cub, foolish cub.
Had there even really been a trap for Perrin's army? Slayer's dreamspike could have been meant for another purpose entirely. Just a coincidence.
There are no coincidences for ta'veren . . .
He needed to find something to do with his anger and his pain. He stood, turning, and was surprised to see how many lights still shone in camp. A group of people waited nearby, far enough away from him that he hadn't made out their scents specifically. Alliandre in a golden gown. Bere-lain in blue. Both sat on chairs beside a small wooden travel table, set with a lantern. Elyas sat on a rock beside them, sharpening his knife. A dozen of the Two Rivers men—Wil al'Seen, Jon Ayellin and Grayor Frenn among them—huddled around a firepit, glancing at him. Even Arganda and Gal-lenne were there, speaking softly.
"They should be sleeping," Perrin said.
"They're worried about you," Faile said. She smelled worried as well. "And they're worried you will send them away, now that gateways work again."
"Fools," Perrin whispered. "Fools to follow me. Fools not to hide."
"You'd really have them do that?" Faile said, angry. "Cower someplace while the Last Battle happens? Didn't you say every man would be needed?"
She was right. Every man would be needed. He realized that part of his frustration was that he didn't know what he'd escaped. He'd gotten away, but from what? For what had Hopper died? Not knowing the enemy's plan made Perrin feel blind.
He walked away from the stump, over to where Arganda and Gallenne were talking. "Bring me our map," he said. "Of the Jehannah Road."
Arganda called over Hirshanin and told him where to find one. Hir-shanin ran off, and Perrin began to walk through camp. Toward the sound of metal hitting metal, the farrier working. Perrin seemed drawn to it. The scents of camp swirled around him, the sky rumbling above him.
The others trailed after him. Faile, Berelain and Alliandre, the Two Rivers men, Elyas, Gaul. The group grew, other Two Rivers men joining it Nobody spoke, and Perrin ignored them, until he came to Aemin working at an anvil, one of the camp's horse-pulled forges set up beside him and burning with a red light.
Hirshanin caught up to Perrin as he arrived, carrying the map. Perrin unrolled it, holding it before him as Aemin stopped his work, smellin curious. "Arganda, Gallenne," Perrin said. "Tell me. If you were going to set up the best ambush for a large group moving along this road toward Lugard, where would you place it?"
"Here," Arganda said without hesitation, pointing to a location several hours from where they'd been camping. "See here? The road turns to follow an old, dried-out streambed. An army passing through there would be totally exposed to an ambush; you'd be able to attack them from the heights here and here."
Gallenne nodded. "Yes. This is marked as an excellent place for a large group to camp. At the base of that hill where the road bends. But if someone's on the heights above with a mind to do you harm, you might not wake up in the morning."
Arganda nodded.
The heights rose flat-topped to the north of the road; the old riverbed had cut a wide, level pathway that was washed out to the south and west. You could fit an army on those heights.
"What are these?" Perrin asked, pointing to some marks south of the road.
"Old ruins," Arganda said. "Nothing of relevance; they've degraded too far to provide cover. They're really just a few moss-covered boulders."
Perrin nodded. Something was coming together for him. "Are Grady and Neald asleep?" he asked.
"No," Berelain said. "They said they wanted to stay awake, just in case. I think your mood gave them a fright."
"Send for them," Perrin said to nobody in particular. "One of them needs to check on the Whitecloak army. I remember someone telling me they had broken camp." He didn't wait to see if the order was followed. He stepped up to the forge, laying a hand on Aemin's shoulder. "Get some sleep, Aemin. I need something to work on. Horseshoes, is it?"
The man nodded, looking perplexed. Perrin took the man's apron and gloves, an
d Aemin departed. Perrin got out his own hammer. The hammer he'd been given in Tear, a hammer that had been used to kill, but hadn't been used to create in such a long time.
The hammer could be either a weapon or a tool. Perrin had a choice, just as everyone who followed him had a choice. Hopper had a choice. The wolf had made that choice, risking more in defense of the Light than any human—-save Perrin—would ever understand.
Perrin used the tongs to pull a small length of metal from the coals, then placed it on the anvil. He raised his arm and began to pound.
It had been a long time since he'd found his way to a forge. In fact, the last he could remember doing any substantial work at one was back in Tear, on that peaceful day when he'd left his responsibilities for a short time and worked at that smithy.
You are like a wolf, husband. Faile had told him that, referring to how focused he became. That was a thing of wolves; they could know the past and the future, yet keep their attention on the hunt. Could he do the same? Allow himself to be consumed when needed, yet keep balance in other parts of his life?
The work began to absorb him. The rhythmic beating of hammer on metal. He flattened the length of iron, occasionally returning it to the coals and getting out another one, working on several shoes at once. He had the measurements nearby for the sizes of what was needed. He slowly bent the metal against the side of the anvil, shaping it. His arms began to sweat, his face warmed by the fire and the work.
Neald and Grady arrived, along with the Wise Ones and Masuri. As Perrin worked, he noticed them sending Sulin through a gateway to check on the Whitecloaks. She returned a short time later, but delayed her report, since Perrin was busy with his work.
Perrin held up a horseshoe, then frowned. This wasn't difficult enough work. It was soothing, yes, but today he wanted something more challenging. He felt a need to create, as if to balance the destruction he'd seen in the world, the destruction he'd helped create. There were several lengths of unworked steel stacked beside the forge, finer material than what was used for shoes. They were probably waiting to be turned into swords for the former refugees.
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