Epilogue with Hoid for Book III, 'The Dragon Reborn'

"The Dragon! Al'Thor!" The cries continued without ceasing. "The Dragon! The Dragon is reborn!"

"For a hundredth time, maybe." Hoid muttered. "I wonder how many times it will happen again?" This world was certainly interesting, but also mind-boggling with its metaphysical nature. "Have you ever wondered why the Pattern turns, my friend?"

"What?" The tall Defender of the Stone had his armor reflecting the light of the sun. Hoid did not understand how these men survived the heat while carrying that breastplate. It seemed like stupidity. But, all cultures have their flaws.

"Why does the Pattern turn and weave you as threads to be born again and again?" Hoid said to him. "Have you ever wondered about the potential it has for storytelling...or lack thereof? What is the meaning of a story that is repeated a little hundred times? Is it not repetitive or obnoxious?"

The man frowned, turning to his brown horse. "You think too much, gleeman."

"Ah, but what is man without a thought? What is the heart of human being without the need to question its own existence? Most important questions of reality: what is good and what is evil? Does God exist? What is there for us beyond the grave?" He sighed. "I suppose you have it easy, my friend - all you have to do is die and you know what awaits. You will be brought back, no! Without a single memory of this, but it still will be you."

The man looked at Hoid bewildered. "I...would prefer not to die, thank you."

"As all would! An unpleasant experience. I have come close to it myself a few times, and I also say I'd rather stay away. Not my cup of tea."

Hoid played the flute, making deep yet sharp sounds. The Defender, while muttering, did seem to enjoy it. "How did you learn that? No gleeman I know is as good with flute as you."

"Quiet, my friend! You will know some of them. My friend Thom is inside the Stone, after all. For someone as young as he is, I'll admit he has great skill. But don't tell him I said that or he will get too high."

"Thom Merrilin?" The soldier said. "Wait...as young? He's at least twenty years older than you."

"Ah, the appearance might trick you, my friend. That is art on its own - deception. The ability to convince everyone of something that is not true. To convince them you have lived lives you never did or convince them you haven't lived incredibly embarrassing ones. At the end of the day, it is about balance as well, no?"

"Ah." The man groaned. "The only art I know is war. That is all I am good at!"

"Of course! Some of us are good at something as small as hearing or seeing. Someone is bad at something you find incredibly easy or passing, while for them something that would be a nightmare to you, such as the solution of mathematics, are as easy as drinking water. Our talents are all varied. It makes no sense to insult one when he doesn't know how to raise a sword or how to write - he knows to do something else you don't."

The man blinked, staring at Hoid. "You...you know more than any Aes Sedai, yet you don't look down on me."

"The only one I look down on, my friend, with exceptions, of course, are the Aes Sedai. I would not have a supper with one unless it was a thing of extreme importance." said the personal advisor of the Amyrlin Seat herself. "Which, to my regret, is the case in this day and age."

Hoid threw dust in the air, making clouds of bright, blue colors that danced like birds in the sky. The soldier stared up at the presentation, his jaw open. "Wonderful."

Hoid smiled. He raised his hand and dust run back to his sleeve. "So, what is your name dear man? I want to know it because of your kindness and hospitality."

"Remas." he said. "But...what kindness? I was just speaking to you."

"Yes, my good friend." He patted the man on the shoulder as he passed by him. "Yes, you did." He sighed. "Now...you will have a new lord, won't you? Seems like more work to do."

The man frowned. "The Dragon Reborn. We are all doomed. Light help us."

"Why though?" Hoid said. "If the Dragon Reborn is so dangerous, why hasn't he destroyed the world in the previous turnings?"

Hoid felt a bit guilty, seeing Remas had an embarrassed expression on his face, as if he was actually stupid. "Maybe. But still, some of us shall die." The man raised his eyebrow. "I suppose you'll say we will return anyway?"

"Maybe. Maybe not? Alas, we are creatures of ignorance. Tragedy." And yet he himself was probably the least ignorant human being in all the Cosmos. Remas did not know, but he had a very good reason to fear the Dragon Reborn. Too good a reason. Everyone in existence had it.

"I am afraid I will need to go. I have a few things to settle. I loved our conversation, however."

"Wait. Hoid...that was your name wasn't it?"

"Among others, yes."

"Are you a channeler?"

Hoid made a dismissive gesture. "Goodness, no! That thing is as addictive as alcohol to young men! It looks sweet, then you draw too much of it and you start to feel as if a snake has entered your lungs and is trying to bite its way out. I would never draw it again."

Remas nodded, mouthing a: "Yes." But then the realization of what Hoid had just said hit his face and it went pale. Hoid just shrugged and patted him. "Farewell! I hope we will see each other again. Send my regards to Lord Dragon. He will know who is Hoid."

Taking the coin, he played with it while walking through Tear. Filled with people of all backgrounds and lives, he noticed the rulers of it did not do their job properly. Many died in the streets, people without anyone to bury them. Hoid found comfort in the fact that would likely change now that the Dragon has come to Tear. Despite the horrible mistake he made in his very first life, before all the turnings of the Wheel, Hoid knew that at least Rand al'Thor was a good man. Lews Therin was well-intentioned, but ultimately arrogant as well. Tamyrlin was a pragmatist who just happened to be the savior that made the right choices - Maelor and Trystane Adonas were like that as well. Dendry was just a boy, frightened and led by instinct. Rhys Sigurm was a broken, hardened old man, a soldier that almost gave up the fight. Of all of them, Hoid found himself respecting only Rand al'Thor.

Of course, there was the eighth or, rather, the first man as well. But we don't talk about him.

The coin almost fell. He grabbed it quickly, holding his breath. He cussed at himself again. He must be more careful. If he does not watch out, Shaidar Haran will find him. That was his only goal in the entire Multiverse, his only direction - to hide from the Hand of the Dark.