Moiraine slowly crouched next to Rana, a frown on her lips and she grabbed her chin lightly and forced her to meet her gaze. "You gave us all quite a fright." her voice was gentle, trying to reassure the younger woman that everything was okay, "You started screaming and thrashing in your sleep, I believe your friend Mat with have a black eye from a foolish attempt to wake you. It was at that point that I realised you may be dangerous and I got Lan to grab you from behind."
"I... I hit Mat?" Rana shuddered, "I didn't mean to..." she reached up and touched her throat, she could remember the feeling of the hand wrapped around it.
Lan crouched the other side of her, frowning "Your neck is red." he stated slowly, "It almost looks like... a hand."
Moiraine nodded, "Yes... tell me Rana, was someone holding you by your neck in your dream?"
"In a way" Rana hesitated, "and in a way not." she shook her head "I could feel the hand but there was no one there... just a voice... and the feeling of being hit." she'd been sent flying across the room, and, she realised, her back and her ribs were aching.
"And when you awoke there were marks... let me see where you were hit."
Rana nodded, and when Lan turned his back she unlaced her dress, slipping her arms out so that her top half were visible. Moiraine hissed slightly at the sight, "Bruised, all over as though you hit something hard." she stated, lightly pressing her fingers against Rana's back, before eyeing her stomach, "And here... multiple bruises."
"I hit a wall.. I went flying through the air and hit a wall." Moiraine nodded, "That would explain the shape of the bruises." she sighed, "It's most worrying Rana... do you have any idea who it was that reached out to you in your dream?"
Rana hesitated, "His name was Elan." she whispered after a moment, "I... I can't say more than that. He is looking for me. He wants to kill me, but he doesn't know where I am."
Moiraine nodded, "Whoever this Elan is he will not find you Rana, or the others." she carefully laid her hands on Rana's shoulders, "I shall do what I can to heal you." she told her, and Rana shivered at the prickling sensation. And then it faded and the bruises were gone, as was the cut on her arm.
Moiraine carefully helped her pull her dress back up. "You can turn back around Lan, she's covered."
Lan turned to face them, frowning, "This is certainly not good news... for them to be able to reach her in her dreams... Moiraine..."
"We shall keep an eye on the boys too." she declared, "There is little else we can do." she gave Rana a gentle look, "If it happens again you must tell me immediately. The situation is dire, as you undoubtedly know."
"I do." Rana shuddered, "He will not stop... not until one of us is dead... I think he hoped that I would unwittingly reveal where we are to him... but I didn't give him any clues."
"Good." Moiraine looked at Lan. "Gather the others. We must be away again. We must keep moving. The sooner we get to Tar Valon the sooner we can all rest easily." She watched Lan head inside and gently guided Rana towards the horses, "I think you should ride with me rather than on Cloud. Lan can The horse is spirited at the best of times, and you still look exhausted. And to be honest with you I don't believe that I will be able rid you of your fatigue without becoming exhausted myself... and neither should I... I cannot be sure that this Elan hasn't done more to you than just given you a terrible night sleep and a few bruises."
Rana nodded. And perhaps she would have argued, but she was not a complete fool. She was exhausted, and she knew that her mind would be elsewhere, a dangerous thing when riding.
Moiraine helped her into the saddle and climbed up behind her as the others came out and climbed onto their horses, Lan tethering Cloud to Madarb without protest as they headed off, and Rana eventually passed out against Moiraine, the Aes Sedai ensuring that she didn't fall off the horse, not slowly or waking her, since her sleep seemed to be dreamless.
It was a week before the reached Baerlon, and Rana did not any more nightmares, at least, not any like the one she had had that first night. She had nightmares of Trollocs and Myrddral. But Ishmael had not entered her dreams since, though she had no doubt that he was simply biding his time.
Whenever they stopped to rest Lan spent time teaching them to wield their weapons well, Perrin his axe and Rana her sword, though he stated late on the third night that she was not far from being a blademaster herself, thanks in no small part, to the fact that she'd been being trained since she could walk, and slowly Rana allowed herself to relax, as did the others. There was no sign of attack for now, and Thom entertained them on the evenings as they ate. In truth it was almost enjoyable, though she noticed that Moiraine watched her often, a worried look on her face.
And whenever Mat started to say something foolish Rana would glare at him and tell him that they were still in danger, though a voice in the back of her mind whispered that it was her fault, that it was her that they were truly after, though those chasing them did not realise it.
It was on the sixth day that they reached Baerlon, and it first came into sight when they topped a low hill. Below them, a scant mile away through the stark trees and the stretching shadows of evening, lay Baerlon. Rana gasped, staring in awe at the sight.
A long wall, nearly twenty foot tall surrounded the town, with wooden watchtowers scattered along it's length. Within, rooftps of slate and tile glinted with the sinking sun, and feathers of smoke drifted upwards from the chimneys. Hundreds of chimneys. There was not a thatched roof to be seen. A broad road ran east from the town, and another west. Each with at least a dozen wagons and twice as many oxcarts trudging toward the palisade. Farms lay scattered about the town, thickest to the north while only a few broke the forest to the south. It was bigger than anywhere Rana had ever seen and yet... yet that voice whispered in her mind that it was tiny compared to a true city. She was drawn out of her thoughts once again by Moiraine's voice, asking her what she thought, and she took a moment before stating. "I think that we're a long way from home." she decided after a few moments, "And that this place is small compared to some that we will see."
Moiraine laughed at that, "That it is." and with that they headed down the hill and through the woods towards the long wall, and when they reached it Lan gave a frayed rope that hung down beside the gates a firm tug. A bell clanged on the other side of the wall and a wizened face under a battered cloth cap peered down suspiciously from atop the wall, glaring between the cut off ends of two of the logs. A good three spans over their heads.
"What's all this eh? It's too late in the day to be opening this gate, too late I say. Go around to the Whitebridge Gate if you want to-"
Moiraines mare moved out to where the man atop the wall had a clear view of her. Suddenly his wrinkles deepened in a gaptoothed smile and he seemed to quiver between speaking and doing his duty. "I didn't know it was you mistress. Wait. Ill be right down, just wait, I'm coming, I'm coming." he dipped out of sight but Rana could still hear the muffled calls for them to wait, and soon enough, with creaks of disuse, the gate swung outward. It stopped when it was just wide enough for one horse to pass through at a time, and the gatekeeper poked his head into the gap, flashed his halftoothless smile at them again, ad darted back out of the way.
They headed through one by one, and when they were in Rana slipped off the back of Cloud, folllowing Moiraine and Lan's example as they spoke to the gatekeeper
The little man, in a muchmended cloak and coat, held his cloth cap crumpled in one hand and ducked his head whenever he spoke. He peered at those dismounting behind Lan and Moiraine, and shook his head. "Downcountry folk." He grinned. "Why, Mistress Alys, you taken up collecting downcountry folk with hay in their hair?" His look took in Thom Merrilin, then. "You ain't a sheepfarmer. I remember letting you go through some days back, I do. Didn't like your tricks downcountry, eh, gleeman?"
"I hope you remembered to forget letting us through, Master Avin," Lan said, pressing a coin into the man's free hand. "And letting us back in, too."
"No need for that, Master Andra. No need for that. You give me plenty when you went out. Plenty." Just the same, Avin made the coin disappear as deftly as if he were a gleeman, too. "I ain't told nobody, and I won't, neither. Especially not them Whitecloaks," he finished with a scowl. He pursed up his lips to spit, then glanced at Moiraine and swallowed, instead.
"The Children are in Baerlon?" Lan demanded.
"They surely are." The gatekeeper bobbed his head. "Came the same day you left, as I 't nobody here likes them at all. Most don't let on, of course."
"Have they said why they are here?" Moiraine asked intently.
"Why they're here, mistress?" Avin was so astonished he forgot to duck his head. "Of course, they said why — Oh, I forgot. You been downcountry. Likely you ain't heard nothing but sheep bleating. They say they're here because of what's going on down in Ghealdan. The Dragon, you know — well, him as calls himself Dragon. They say the fellow's stirring up evil — which I expect he is — and they're here to stamp it out, only he's down there in Ghealdan, not here. Just an excuse to meddle in other people's business, is what I figure. There's already been the Dragon's Fang on some people's doors." This time he did spit.
"Have they caused much trouble, then?" Lan said, and Avin shook his head vigorously.
"Not that they don't want to, I expect, only the Governor don't trust them no more than I do. He won't let but maybe ten or so inside the walls at one time, and ain't they mad about that. The rest have a camp a little ways north, I hear. Bet they got the farmers looking over their shoulders. The ones that do come in, they just stalk around in those white cloaks, looking down their noses at honest folk. Walk in the Light, they say, and it's an order. Near come to blows more than once with the wagoneers and miners and smelters and all, and even the Watch, but the Governor wants it all peaceful, and that's how it's been so far. If they're hunting evil, I say why aren't they up in Saldaea? There's some kind of trouble up there, I hear. Or down in Ghealdan? There's been a big battle down there, they say. Real big."
Moiraine drew a soft breath. "I had heard that Aes Sedai were going to Ghealdan. "
"Yes, they did, mistress." Avin's head started bobbing again. "They went to Ghealdan, all right, and that's what started this battle, or so I hear. They say some of those Aes Sedai are dead. Maybe all of them. I know some folks don't hold with Aes Sedai, but I say, who else is going to stop a false Dragon? Eh? And those damned fools who think they can be men Aes Sedai or some such. What about them? Course, some say — not the Whitecloaks, mind, and not me, but some folks — that maybe this fellow really is the Dragon Reborn. He can do things, I hear. Use the One Power. There's thousands following him."
"Don't be a fool," Lan snapped, and Avin's face folded into a hurt look.
"I'm only saying what I heard, ain't I? Just what I heard, Master Andra. They say, some do, that he's moving his army east and south, toward Tear." His voice became heavy with meaning. "They say he's named them the People of the Dragon."
"Names mean little," Moiraine said calmly. If anything she had heard disturbed her, she gave no outward sign of it now. "You could call your mule People of the Dragon, if you wanted."
"Not likely, mistress." Avin chuckled. "Not with the Whitecloaks around, for sure. I don't expect anybody else would look kindly on a name like that, neither. I see what you mean, but ... oh, no, mistress. Not my mule."
"No doubt a wise decision," Moiraine said. "Now we must be off."
"And don't you worry, mistress," Avin said, with a deep bob of his head, "I ain't seen nobody." He darted to the gate and began tugging it closed with quick jerks. "Ain't seen nobody, and ain't seen nothing." The gate thudded shut, and he pulled down the locking bar with a rope. "In fact, mistress, this gate ain't been open in days."
"The Light illumine you, Avin," Moiraine said, before leading them away from the gate.
Rana could hear Mat asking Thom about what they'd heard, but she was distracted. The False Dragon was gaining power... she couldn't help but feel concerned about that, after all as the real Dragon surely she should be the one to intervene? How many would die because of this man?
Eventually the small group stopped by a section of headhigh wooden fence that looked no different from any other they had passed. He was working the blade of his dagger between two of the boards. Abruptly he gave a grunt of satisfaction, pulled, and a length of the fence swung out like a gate. In fact it was a gate, Rana saw, though one meant to be opened only from the other side. The metal latch that Lan had lifted with his dagger showed that.
Moiraine went through immediately, drawing Aldieb behind her. Lan motioned the others to follow, and brought up the rear, closing the gate behind him.
On the other side of the fence Rana found herself in the stableyard of an inn. A loud bustle and clatter came from the building's kitchen, but what struck her was its size; it covered more than twice as much ground as the Winespring Inn, and was four stories high besides. Well over half the windows were aglow in the deepening twilight.
No sooner had they come well into the stableyard than three men in dirty canvas aprons appeared at the huge stable's broad, arched doors. One, a wiry fellow and the only one without a manure fork in his hands, came forward waving his arms.
"Here! Here! You can't come in that way! You'll have to go round the front!"
Lan's hand went to his purse again, but even as it did another man, as big around as Master al'Vere, came hurrying out of the inn. Puffs of hair stuck out above his ears, and his
sparkling white apron was as good as a sign proclaiming him the innkeeper.
"It's all right, Mutch," the newcomer said. "It's all right. These folk are expected guests. Take care of their horses, now. Good care."
Mutch sullenly knuckled his forehead, then motioned his two companions to come help. Rand and the others hurriedly got their saddlebags and blanketrolls down while the innkeeper turned to Moiraine. He gave her a deep bow, and spoke with a genuine smile.
"Welcome, Mistress Alys. Welcome. It's good to be seeing you, you and Master Andra, both. Very good. Your fine conversation has been missed. Yes, it has. I must say I worried, you going downcountry and all. Well, I mean, at a time like this, with the weather all crazy and wolves howling right up to the walls in the night." Abruptly he slapped both hands against his round belly and shook his head. "Here I go on like this, chattering away, instead of taking you inside. Come. Come. Hot meals and warm beds, that's what you'll be wanting. And the best in Baerlon are right here. The very best. "
"And hot baths, too, I trust, Master Fitch?" Moiraine said, and Egwene echoed her fervently. "Oh, yes."
"Baths?" the innkeeper said. "Why, just the best and the hottest in Baerlon. Come. Welcome to the Stag and Lion. Welcome to Baerlon."