Rand stroked the flank of Farstrider and Nimbar as he drank from his waterskin, seated at the head of the cart. The mountains loomed between the pass he was taking, sheltering him from the worst parts of the desert. Why, it had even rained briefly yesterday, letting rand tilt his head and welcome the clean water on his tongue, rivets running down his face. The Aiel Waste lay one week past him, and the camp where he had stayed lay a further week away. Ahead, Rand could already see the semblance of trees and plants, grey and twisted as they were. It wouldn't be far to Fal Dara, the city closets to the Blight. There he could find more about the Blight, the Eye of the World, and prepare himself to enter the dominion of the shadow.
Some part of him protested heavily against this, the place where the extremes of fear, joy, anger, sadness and happiness were generated. But this part of him was small; it had been since he had been gentled. His mind fought of the lack of will to live with a single thought. The Slayer. He would find his supposed Uncle and find out what was going on. If he died, then so be it.
"He shames us all," Aviendha burst out angrily, before lowering her eyes as Amys stared at her. A faint red blossomed on her cheeks as Amys gave her a penetrating stare, rivaling the best of Aes Sedai. Amys couldn't channel, not all Wise Ones could, but she was the oldest and recognized as the wisest Aiel of them all.
"Hold your tongue child," Amys spoke warningly. "He is an Aiel in blood only; He does not know our ways."
"I taught him!" Aviendha said sullenly. "He should know enough to know that forsaking gai'shain is dishonorable."
"What will you do them, Maiden?" Amys asked. "It has been a fortnight, and you have protested much about Rand. I grow tired of it. Do then, what you will then, you have my blessings."
Aviendha said nothing, but a determined glint came into her eyes.
"He needs spears, sister, not gai'shain." Amys called after her. She stopped on her tracks, silent and unmoving. "If the others cannot accept that, then they shall stay and carry out their gai'shain duties here. Honor is not lost by picking up the spear before the appointed time…When Rand al'Thor defeated them, he was not yet Aiel. He is still not Aiel."
As Aviendha stormed off into the camp, snapping orders and commands, Melanie stood by Amys' side, her face unreadable.
"What do you plot now?" She asked, half in exasperation, half in amusement.
"Rand al'Thor will have the Maidens of the Spear behind, whether he knows it or not." Amys said, smiling slightly. "He is all of their sons, or brothers,"
"Aviendha does not seem to feel that way. She is concerned about honour, not kinship," Melanie said.
Amys smiled mysteriously. "Ah, maybe she is." She said. "Or maybe she feels for him more strongly than the others,"
It was a small party of Aiel that left the camp, with twenty Maidens and ten Stone Dogs. Aviendha led the Maidens with Enaila, Isan and Adelin by her side, while Soldem led the Stone Dogs, nine other tall men beside him.
"We must make haste," Aviendha said shortly, her eyes boring into Soldem's. Soldem nodded, his suntanned brow creased.
"Al'Thor would take Niamh pass if he wished to cross into the Leafblighter's land." He said.
"Then we shall follow." Aviendha nodded sharply.
"He has beasts to do his work for him; we may not catch him at all." A Stone Dog, red hair and blue eyes, said.
"If he approaches Wetlander cities, then we must catch him at the Eye of the World." Enaila said. Gone were her white robes, in her hands lay her spear.
"None of the Aiel has ever been to the Eye of the World." Adelin said.
"None of us has ever needed to." Soldem said softly.
"We shall find Al'Thor…and drag him back like the perpetual child he is." Aviendha declared firmly. The Maidens raised their spears, banging them on their bucklers and hollering.
"Lead on Aviendha, of the Bitter Water sept." Soldem said, gesturing forward and forsaking leadership.
Aviendha nodded, pleased with herself.
"Elayne, it has been a few months since Rand left. Are you ever going to come out of this tantrum?" Gawyn asked his sister in the privacy of the garden.
The fourteen year old stood up straighter, her eyes glinted. "I am not in a temper!" She spat out angrily.
Gawyn nodded. "Of course you are not, my Lady. I spoke in haste."
Elayne had grown much, shedding her prepubescent body for a rapidly maturing figure. Her red-gold tresses lay across her back, held back by a silver tiara while her blue and silver dress clothed her body.
"I just…want to know what is happening." She finally confessed to her brother.
Gawyn nodded. "So do I." He admitted. "Rand…with Myrddraal and Light knows what else on his trail,"
"And this Slayer, he called Rand his nephew." Elayne said, shivering. "Rand said his father had no brothers,"
"Perhaps Rand does not know of his true father's family. I always suspected he was Aiel, he had the looks but not the mannerism I have read about." Gawyn said, frowning. "Perhaps Slayer is Aiel, they are savages after all."
"If Rand is Aiel, does that make him a savage?" Elayne broke in sharply.
Gawyn bowed his head. "Of course not, My Lady."
Elayne nodded in satisfaction. "I wish I could send a party of troops after him," She admitted.
"Can you not?" Gawyn asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Rand had friends within the guard. I do suspect that even Gareth Bryne liked him." Gawyn said. "Could you not ask Gareth to discreetly send a party of Queens Guards in search?"
"Where would they start?" Elayne asked.
"Slayer is a Darkfriend. Should not the Borderlands be searched? Shienar and Arafel are the two closest Border nations to Andor." Gawyn said.
"I can see that Gareth's training is paying off. You shall make an excellent First Prince, leading Andor's Armies." Elayne said, a smile tugging her lips.
"My Lady, I tell you this only because Gareth has already done so…at my insistence. It would be better if he had the approval of the Daughter-Heir though." Gaywn admitted.
"And you tell me this now?" Elayne said her voice now cold.
"How could I broach the subject without sounding…?" Here Gawyn hesitated.
"Very well. Tell Gareth Byrne that I asked him to send out the party. Curiously, how many Queens Guards did Gareth send out?"
"Two parties, a hundred swords each." Gaywn told her.
"Good. Send a message by pigeon, they are to find Rand and bring him back to Caemlyn." Elayne ordered.
"Against his will?" Gawyn questioned in surprise.
"Better alive and angry then dead." Elayne said grimly.
"Gareth will not be expecting approval…he will wonder why the Daughter-Heir has such a vested interest in a Guard?"
"Who was once my Defender." Elayne broke in.
"Is that the only reason?" Gawyn asked. He received no reply.
One week later
Fal Dara was the biggest fort Rand had ever laid eyes on. In terms of size, it was smaller than Caemlyn, but the walls surrounding it were higher. For a mile in every direction, nothing taller than grass surrounded the town. Nobody could sneak up on the town without one of the many towers seeing them. While the walls in Caemlyn were beautiful, the builders here had decided that they did not what anybody though. The walls were made from ugly grey stone, hard and strong, and the wall looked as if it would stand forever, and never be beaten down. Buildings were clustered inside the walls, while a huge fortress stood on the top of the hill. A dry moat surrounded it, the bottom filled with lines of razor-sharp steel spikes. Large gates, made of thick metal, were guarded by looming towers with arrow slots to fire a hundred bows.
Rand received many looks, some curious, some dirty, as he rode his cart into the town. Adults and children milled the streets, the silence was almost overpowering. Rand passed a single inn, named Guardians.
"Good evening sir," Said a rough-raced but kind eyed man.
"How much for a room?" Rand asked. "And a stable stall for two horses,"
"Four silvers a night," The Innkeeper drawled.
Rand checked his moneybag. He had a total of fifteen silvers left, only enough for three days. "I'll have the room for three days then,"
The Innkeeper took the money and bowed his head. "Welcome to the Guardians, good sir."
"My name is Rand al'Thor." Rand told the Innkeeper as he went up the stairs.
After a refreshing sleep, Rand came down the stairs, dressed in a dark cloak and a brown tunic.
"Good Evening My Lord," The Innkeeper called out past the mutterings and chatting of the common room. Many an eye turned to Rand, who ignored them easily, seating himself at a table.
"What would you like for breakfast, my Lord?" A pretty barmaid asked a lovely smile on her face.
"If you have bacon, I will buy it." Rand said with a frown on his face. "And I am not a lord."
The barmaid looked confused as she walked away.
"Hey boss! Bacon for the young Lord." She called out.
"So, what did he say?" said the Innkeeper in a low voice. Several patrons leant in as the barmaid smoothed her skirts.
"He says he isn't a Lord, yet he has a lord's name." She told them.
The Innkeeper frowned. "He doesn't dress like a Lord."
"He is a southerner, I recognize the accent. But his looks, they are Aiel." One patron, a seasoned soldier, said.
There were hisses at the mention of the savages that had ravaged Shienar for months, before retreating.
"Maybe he is from Cairhein. I heard that all nobles play the Game." Another patron said, glancing over at Rand, who sat, seemingly oblivious to the examining he was receiving.
"The Game?" The barmaid asked.
"Aye. Everything a noble does or says or doesn't do and doesn't say, it's all part of a plot or ploy. He's probably plotting something now, using manipulations and the what-not." The patron whispered.
"He's very good then," The Innkeeper said. "I did not recognize him for a Lord until he told me his name,"
"You see. He will deny being a Lord yet he will tell people his name, so that they will tell others he is a Lord." The patron looked pleased with himself.
"That makes sense." The Barmaid said slowly. Suddenly a plate of bacon was slapped under her nose and she picked it up. As she delivered the food to the southerner Lord, a man slipped from the Inn. He had to report to Lord Agelmar. At best, the Southerner Lord was here to help; at worst…he was a Darkfriend. If he was, then the guards would not get a chance to arrest him. The crowd would tear him apart, limb form limb.
Rand finished his bacon with great relish. He couldn't remember the last time that he had eaten hot bacon. It had to be months. He flicked his eyes over the chatting patrons and the Innkeeper. He could tell by the sidelong looks he was receiving that they were talking about him. He wouldn't be surprised if one of them worked for the Shienar army. He watched as one of them stood and make his way to the door, a flash of bronze underneath his cloak. Rand stood and the barmaid walked over, before letting out a gasp as her eyes riveted to the sword by Rand's side. Rand followed her gaze and saw the heron-mark bared, for all to see.
"Are you a Blademaster, My Lord?" The barmaid asked in awe.
Rand shifted uncomfortably. "I have the skills, yes." He admitted. "And I am not a Lord?"
"You have the name of one." The barmaid said daringly.
Rand looked at her in honest surprise. "Rand?"
"Al'Thor. The prefix 'Al' indicates Lordship."
"It doesn't from where I come from." Rand said in surprise.
"Oh." The barmaid uttered. She shook her head and smiled brilliantly. "That's two coppers."
Rand paid her the money. "Listen, I'm looking for information about the Blight, something in it called the Eye of the World."
"You seek the Eye of the World?" The barmaid asked, before her face bore a look of understanding. "So that's why you're here. Why do you want to find the Eye?"
"I am to meet somebody there." Rand replied. A dark looked cross his face. "According to him, I am his nephew. He goes by the name, Slayer."
"Slayer," The barmaid echoed, a coil of terror squirming in her belly. The trollocs of the Blight had been raiding heavily this past year, shouting battle cries attributing Slayer as their leader.
"That's right. You've heard of him, haven't you?" Rand deduced that by the expression on her face, Slayer was not a popular person here.
"Darkfriend!" She howled, backing away from the table like a madman.
"Blood and Ashes!" Rand groaned as the patrons from the tables jumped up, swords, knives and ale mugs appearing in their hands. He held his hands up in a placating gesture as the crowd turned on him, anger in their eyes. "Listen, I am not a Darkfriend!"
"He says that his uncle is Slayer!" The barmaid shrieked, pointing wildly at him.
"So!" Rand shouted back. "I really don't think he cares, he has tried to kill me before!"
"And all of us!" One man snarled, with a shaven head and a top-knot colored brown and the armour of Shienar soldiers. "The Trollocs sing his name as they attack and kill our people!"
"He sent Shadowspawn to kill me!" Rand yelled, backing away with his hand leaping to his sword hilt.
This sent interest in the crowd. "A southerner with knowledge of Shadowspawn?" One man muttered.
"Like what?" The soldier jeered.
"Myrddraal! Soulless!" Rand said quickly.
"Soulless?" One person asked another.
"Grey men." The other person said back.
"What's going on here?" Somebody called from the entrance. Rand couldn't see who was standing there, the crowd blocking is view, but the accent and voice was familiar. It sounded…Andorian.
"Who are you?" The Innkeeper asked roughly.
"Captain Tallonvor, Her Majesties Queens Guards." The voice answered. "I am searching for…"
"Captain!" Rand yelled.
"Defender Al'Thor?" The Captain's voice sounded incredulous. The crowd parted as the Captain, a dark eyed man with a golden knot on his shoulder, dressed in the Queens Guard uniform, pushed his way through.
"Hello Captain." Rand greeted weakly, his hand still on his sword.
"What is going on?" The Captain asked the crowd.
"He's a Darkfriend!" One man yelled.
"What? I can hardly believe that!" Tallonvor scoffed at the mere idea. "He is here to fight the shadow, for they attacked the Daughter-Heir of Andor."
"Shadowspawn in Andor?" A man with yellow hair asked.
"I had heard rumors, but we are always so focused on the north." The solider said, more to himself than anybody else.
"He is the nephew of Slayer, the commander of the Trollocs that attack and kill our people." Another person shouted, rather desperately.
"Slayer?" Tallonvor frowned, turning to Rand.
"The person who organized the attack on Andor," Rand explained hastily. "He also attacked me two weeks ago, with a Darkhound."
The soldier in the crowd suddenly looked interested. "Sit and talk," he offered as he put his sword away. "Tell us about Slayer."
Rand and Tallonvor watched the crowd break up, sitting down in their seats as they turned expectant eyes on Rand.
"What are you going here?" Rand muttered under his breath.
"I am retrieving you. We were sent by Gareth Byrne roughly a month ago, and received a pigeon from Lady Elayne a week ago to get you back to Andor. Imagine my surprise when I walk into the first Inn in Fal Dara and find you here." Tallonvor grinned, clapping Rand on the back. "The Guards heard how you were so angered by the attempted attack on Lady Elayne that you swore to fight the Shadow to Shayol Ghul itself."
Rand groaned as he was led to the bar. He almost missed being by himself, but seeing a friendly face was refreshing.
"So, tell us about Andor." The Innkeeper asked, leaning forward eagerly.
Lord Agelmar was a middle-aged man, with a bald head save for a top-knot, which was white as snow. His lines bore creases from frowning and worry and his eyes were brown stones, hard and cold.
"So, you say that this youth boasts that he defeated a Myrddraal one-on-one." He asked the soldier.
"Yes sir." The soldier uttered, standing at attention, his eyes planted on the wall. "Also, he describes a Darkhound and says that he was attacked by one, but got away. He was very vague about the second attack."
"Could they not be simple boasts?" Lord Agelmar asked. "I can count the few swordsmen in Fal Dara who can fight a Myrddraal single-handedly, and those who could defeat one; I can count them using one hand."
"Sir, he describes the effects of Myrddraal, the fear that accompanies them, their faces. Also, the Andorian Captain swears that it is true."
Lord Agelmar frowned into his ale glass. A few days ago, a fist of Andorian horsemen approached Fal Dara with messages of peace. At first, Lord Agelmar was overjoyed. Long had the Borderlands fought against the shadow without help from the south. But the horsemen were here to seek out a man, and apparently they had found them. This man was the same youth that he had received reports about, as the mysterious young lord who had ordered a room in Guardians.
"Send out an invitation for Lord Al'Thor to dine with me and some friends." Lord Agelmar said abruptly.
The soldier bowed his head as he walked from the room.
Tallanvor and Rand walked through the heavily armed keep of Fal Dara. The Andorian Guardsman attracted some attention, with his bright red armour and his flowing golden cloak, but shrugged off then looks easily.
"You look well." Tallanvor said, frowning speculatively over at Rand. "You have grown, built some muscles up. You are sixteen now, are you not?"
"That is right." Rand confirmed. As he inspected a small trinket from a market stall, he glanced over at the courtyard. Like the streets, it was full of people. Armored soldiers and horses milled about, while blacksmiths worked in the corners with their forges emanating searing heat. The sound of metal striking metal could be heard from the market and fletchers shaved pieces of wood, preparing arrows. Tallanvor noticed his curiosity at the soldiers.
"I have been told that in the past six months, Trolloc groups have tried to seize Shienar. These groups have numbered in the hundreds of thousands, the largest groups since the Trolloc Wars. Shienar is being weakened, but is holding the borders well. They are preparing themselves to go to the Watch Towers and fortify Tarwin's Gap."
"Tarwin's Gap?"
"It is the largest trail from the Borderlands to the Blight. There are no other usable paths for miles. If Shienar can hold the Gap, then they stop any Trollocs entering Shienar."
"I've never seen a Trolloc before, have you?" Rand asked Tallanvor.
Tallanvor shook his head. "I have not seen a single Shadowspawn in my life…unlike you."
Rand grimaced and looked away, to see a young boy running up towards him.
"Are you the Southerner Lord?" The boy panted.
"I keep telling everybody, I am not…oh, never mind. Yes, I am," Rand sighed.
Ignoring Tallanvors look of disbelief, Rand accepted a smooth piece of parchment from the boy, who bowed jerkily and ran off. Rand opened it up and read the contents, before handing it to Tallanvor.
Lord al'Thor,
I have recently heard of your arrival in Fal Dara, and your tales of Shadowspawn as far south as Andor. I would like to talk to you, face to face. Therefore, I invite you to my table tonight at the Keep. I and a few close friends will eagerly be waiting for your company. I have heard that you are interested in the Eye of the World. One of my guests, Lord alFrondice Dremenden is a keen enthusiast on the subject and would be delighted to discuss it with those who are interested. Simply present this message and the gates and you shall be allowed to pass. Dinner starts at sunset.
Sincerely,
Lord Agelmar
"You are a Lord now?" Tallanvor asked in amusement.
Rand flushed slightly but met Tallanvors stare steadily. "The prefix of al, in a name is a sign of royalty or Lordship." He said calmly.
Tallanvor nodded. "Will you accept?" He asked.
"If this Lord Dremenden has knowledge of the Eye of the World, then I must." Rand commented, his brow furrowing. "I do not look like a Lord though,"
Tallanvor grinned. "Then we will have to make you look like one."
It was at sunset that Rand presented himself at the gates of the Keep. No longer dressed in ragged and dirty clothes, he wore a shirt of red silk with golden linings and a high collar. His paints were black and his belt was made with golden links, his sword hanging off in its plain and battered scabbard, a dark cloak lay over his shoulders, the hooch made from silver. Captain Tallanvor had spent a bag of gold on these clothes and had waved off any mention of repayment.
"You would be surprised how much I am getting paid to complete this mission." He had said.
Now Rand stood at the gates of the giant keep. Towers were lit brightly, and in the town no part was left dark. This was to stop Myrddraal from using the shadows to transport themselves into behind the walls. Rand had thought that that ability had been a myth, but here everybody treated it seriously. The Keep loomed, ominously, tall and silent. It would take an army of millions to bring it down.
"I am Rand al'Thor. I received this invitation…" Rand trailed off, showing two blurry guards the message.
One of the guards read the parchment and bowed. "My Lord, we have been given instructions to let you pass."
Rand thanked them and walked to the thick gates, taking a small side gate into the Keep courtyard. Guards patrolled warily, some holding dogs on leashes and all holding swords or spears. In the towers, Rand could see archers with looking glasses, looking outwards pas the city walls in search for Trollocs.
"This way, My Lord." Came a young voice and Rand turned to see a small girl, maybe nine, standing there. Flanking her were two tall men, two swords on their backs and one on their belts.
The girl smiled up at him, red hair framing a small, pale face. Brown eyes stared at him behind freckled cheeks and she wore a silk dress, made from silver and purple silks and embroidered with blue flowers.
"I am Jania Dremenden," The girl introduced, curtsying.
"I am Rand al'Thor," Rand introduced himself, smiling at the child and bowing low.
"I was asked to bring you to the table." Jania told him.
"Lead on, My Lady." Rand said.
"Shall you escort me?" Jania asked.
Rand hesitated, before giving her his arm, which she latched upon. As she led him to the Keep, the two men trialed behind the both of them.
"Did you really fight Myrddraal?" Jania whispered as she led him into the main doors, past several guards.
"Who told you that?" Rand asked.
"It's all over the city. Everybody is wondering about the Southerner Lord, who boasts of fighting Fades and walks with Andorian Captains." Jania said, leading him up a flight of stairs.
"I did…but I didn't boast it." Rand admitted.
Jania said nothing as she approached two thick doors, made from shiny steel. A doorkeeper stood to the side, armed with a small sword. It seemed that everybody Rand had seen in Fal Dara was armed, the price of living in the Borderlands.
"Lady Jania Dremenden, of House Dremenden of Shienar, and Lord Rand al'Thor, of House al'Thor of…" Jania trailed off.
"Two Rivers," Rand supplied. The doors opened and Jania tugged on his arm. Rand straightened his back, squared his shoulders and tried to imitate the walk of Andorian nobles.
Lord Agelmar stood as the doors opened, the keeper calling out those who walked in. Rand al'Thor looked just as his men had told him. He had the face of an Aiel, yet walked like a Lord. His battered scabbard contrasted with his clothes, but the hilt of the sword bore a heron, the sign of a Blademaster. Only a true Blademaster would keep the scabbard the sword had came in. His hair was reddish-brown, his eyes a pale grey and his shoulders square and thick. A scar was faintly visible on his hairline, a few grays marking dead hairs, as well as a slash on his cheek.
"Good Evening Lord Al'Thor," Lord Agelmar greeted. Half a dozen nobles from his table also stood, bowing or curtsying as al'Thor walked up the hall. For a moment, Agelmar caught a glimpse of frustrationin the youth's eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it came.
"Good evening Lord Agelmar and guests." Lord al'Thor offered, bowing slightly. Lord Dremenden's child curtsied to her father, letting go of Al'Thor's hand and seating herself quietly.
"Would you care to sit?" Lord Agelmar offered, waving a hand at the seat next to him.
"I would be honoured, Lord Agelmar." Lord Al'Thor said, bowing once again.
Rand felt content having slipped himself in the void. He watched the Lord's and Ladies talk. Apart from Lord Agelmar, there was Lord Intgar, a Captain in the Shienar army, Lord Mandoren and Lord Dremenden. Lady Dremenden and her cousin, Lady Azerel also sat with the Lords. Dinner was delicious and Rand was happy to lean back and eat as the Lord's discussed everything from grain imports to Trolloc raids.
"We have ninety thousand men at the Watch Towers, with another five thousands leaving tomorrow." Lord Intgar was saying. "It will hold."
"The first raid had Trollocs numbering in the thousands, the second raid, fifty thousand and the third raid two hundred thousand. The next raid will be bigger." Lord Mandoren said, curling his lip. "We cannot hold out against such numbers."
"All of the Borderlands have been raided heavily this past year. Shienar has taken the worst of it, but the others cannot send soldiers. They need them as much as we do." Lord Agelmar said wearily.
"What of the Southern Nations then?" Lord Dremenden said, his eyes turning to Rand. "Would they be willing to send soldiers?"
"The Royal Palace of Andor was attacked by Myrddraal and Soulless not long ago. I understand that the Daughter-Heir was caught in the midst of it, but she survived. Would Andor seek retribution against the Shadow?" Lord Agelmar asked.
Rand kept his face clear as he sipped from his glass. "Have you asked?"
Lord Dremenden stared at him, before bursting out in booming laughter. "I like you," He said, gulping his wine.
"We sent an emissary to any nation who could help weeks ago. We have had no reply." Lord Agelmar said seriously.
"Send another. Sign it out for the Daughter-Heir of Andor, Elayne. She will make sure that it gets to her mother." Rand replied.
Lord Agelmar regarded him for a few moments. "Very well then," he finally said.
"Have you asked the White Tower?" Rand pressed on. "Aes Sedai could make a big difference in the battle."
Lord Agelmar shook his head. "Apart from the occasional Sister, no Aes Sedai has fought battles with Shienar for decades. They are firm in their belief that we can win,"
"And they should be. Since the Breaking of the World, the Borderlands have held back Trollocs and Myrddraal and Dreadlords." Lord Mandoren said loudly.
"But we are losing." Lady Dremenden said softly, the first time she had spoken. Her daughter, Jania, looked both fascinated and scared by the conversation she was hearing. "With the fall of Malkier, not fifty years ago, and the larger numbers of Trollocs present in the raids, we are losing men and ground. Each year, the Blight creeps ever so closer."
"What do you recommend, Lord Al'Thor?" Lord Intgar asked.
Rand was silent, his mind churning. How could he play Lord? Did they know that he wasn't? Were they pressing him? But as he stared into their eyes, he could see that they wanted answers to questions they could not answer.
"I think…that Shienar and the Borderlands have been alone for too long. You have become accustomed to fighting battles where the chances are slim. But now, if what I am hearing is correct, the chances are worse then ever. I think you need to be brutally honest with the, Illian, Tear, but especially Andor, Cairhein and Tar Valon. If you tell them that you are unable to hold the borders any longer, they will send help. Tar Valon is next in line if Shienar falls, then Andor and Cairhein. They all have a vested interest in keeping Shienar free from the Trollocs." Rand said, before shrugging. "That is only my opinion though, and I never claimed to be good at politics."
Silence descended on the table, lasting several minutes, before the servants came to clear away the remains of dinner.
"I heard that you were interested in the Eye of the World," Lord Dremenden said.
Rand nodded. "Yes, I am. Very interested in it actually,"
"What are your plans for tomorrow, Lord Al'Thor? For I am riding back to my manor, just half a days ride from Fal Dara. I would be honoured if you would join me. I have several interesting texts that you could read." Lord Dremenden offered.
"I would…be honoured, Lord Dremenden." Rand said.
Jania suddenly yawned loudly, before covering her mouth. Her cheeks were stained with red as her mother gave her a sharp look.
"It is late, and we shall need a good nights sleep if we are to leave early tomorrow. If you wish to ride with me, I will be leaving the Keep stables at the seventh hour after midnight." Lord Dremenden said.
Rand smiled in thanks and stood. He bowed, "Goodnight Lords and Ladies of Shienar."
"So, how was it?" Tallanvor asked as Rand walked into his room.
"I am riding with Lord Dremenden tomorrow. He is going to show me information about the Eye of the World." Rand said tiredly. He yawned and rubbed his bleary eyes. "Being a Lord is hard work, Captain."
"I'm sure it is." Tallanvor agreed. "I shall leave, and my fist of horsemen shall be an hour's ride from you at all times. If you do not find the information you seek, then I can delay no longer. I have orders from Gareth Byrne and Lady Elayne to bring you back to Caemlyn, against your will if it may be,"
Rand stiffened, staring at Tallanvor coldly. "Let me sleep them,"
Tallanvor nodded. "Goodnight…My Lord."
He left, leaving Rand alone in the brightly lit room. Rand shed his clothes and lay on his bed, his hand rested on his sword hilt. Slowly, he released the void and welcomed the wave of fatigue that sent him to sleep.