Chapter 8

To the West

I sat in my new study a week later and examined the device before me. It was a crystal slate, the same one the Butcher had been studying. In basic function it resembled a tablet, but it had been severely damaged. It could only show a couple of pages before getting stuck, and only parts of the text were legible.

Not that I could read those; the language was utterly foreign. Whatever had allowed me to understand the Common Tongue of this world in spoken and written form did not extend to this. Still, for every problem there was a solution.

Using a miracle to access a gift meant it was temporary, but its results weren't. The servants I'd conjured to clean the house up and rebuild it hadn't lasted but a day. I had to resummon them every dawn until I'd decided to use some dominion to make them permanent. But the repairs they had affected, the bodies they'd buried, that wasn't undone. So using a miracle to repair the Shadowcaster and this tablet took no more than a few minutes.

The reason I needed a week before I could try to read the tablet was still sitting in a case on the desk. I was about to open it when Gemiad came in without so much as a knock. The clockwork servant that had guided her in clicked as it bowed to us before leaving with the soft rattling of bronze gears. Gemiad gave my study a once over before shaking her head.

"Alright, I'll admit, I hadn't expected this. If not for looking out a window, I'd believe I was in some manor home in the Old City."

"It helps when you have so many hands to help you out."

"Right," she said, glancing at where the clockwork automaton had been. "Those things still seem strange to me. People, that aren't people?"

"You should think more of them as clocks. Same principle, but more complex."

"If you say so." She shook her head. "But I did not come here to talk about that. Everybody's getting a little worried about you. You've barely shown your face in the offices all week except to apologize to Hagaidhrin and meet with those papermakers. What have you been doing if these walking clocks did all the work on the house?"

"A few things." I held up the tablet. "Most of it involved preparing to read this."

Gemiad came over and looked closer. "I recognize that. The Butcher was looking at it before…" She shivered. "What is it?"

"A book, of a sorts. It was quite damaged and it couldn't show most of the text in its memory."

"Memory? It has a mind?"

"Not as such. Here, take a look at it," I said, handing it over. "You flip a page by pressing on the right or left side of the page." It really worked like an e-reader.

Hesitantly, she tried it and the characters shifted. Feeling a little more secure, she pressed it a second time, then a third. "Those are letters?"

"Yes. The text is in a language entirely unrelated to either the Old Tongue or the Common Tongue."

"How…?" Her frown turned to an expression of wonder. "Because it's from another world, isn't it? Another world, another language. That makes sense. Though, how do we read it then? Can you?"

I shook my head. "No." I picked up the small wooden case from the desk and flipped it open. "That's why I spent most of this week making these Glasses of Translation. You put them on the bridge of your nose and when you look at the text through these lenses it should turn the text into something the wearer can read. Works on the Old Tongue too."

"And you made these?" She carefully picked the glasses up.

"I told you, there are many paths to power. Some you can find if you look in the right places, and some stumble upon you."

"You mean, you stumble upon them?"

"No, I meant they find you. Knowing how to make items with tricks like these is just one of those things that found me. Go ahead, put them on and see if you can read the text."

I had to help her out with unfolding the legs but she figured things out after that. Gemiad reared back when she first glimpsed the tablet through the glasses. She lifted them up, then back down again.

"So they're working?"

Her gaze snapped to me. "You weren't sure?"

I held up my hands. "I didn't know if the text was further ciphered, but from the way your scanning the text I take it that's not the case."

"No." Her attention returned to the tablet and ran through the text. "I don't think so? There's a lot here that doesn't make sense. There's talk about Night Roads, and that's with capital letters. Is that a road used only by night?"

"It's a pathway through Uncreated Night," I said. This could be huge. If this tablet spoke about Night Roads, it might tell me about the ones leading out of this world. I answered her question before she could ask it. "And Uncreated Night is what surrounds worlds. The Butcher must have been looking to open one of them."

Gemiad frowned behind the glasses and looked at the floor. Or through it. "Was that what he was trying to do? Then there's one in the cellar? Is that why you wanted to move in to this house?"

I shook my head. "Night Roads are locked to prevent things from entering. Believe me, the Butcher is positively benign and harmless compared to most of what you'd encounter on a Night Road. But Night Roads aren't supposed to open in populated areas like this."

I tried to recall everything I knew about them. "I'm not sure there is an entrance here. I've done what I can to verify it and came up empty. The Butcher might have become fixated on a false belief. That's why his ritual wasn't working. I hope he was."

"How bad could it be?"

"All the dead in Andor could wake up and try to eat the living. Or a creature as tall as a mountain made of fire could start burning his way across the land. Or a thousand other things, most of them involving a lot of death and suffering."

Gemiad regarded me. "If it's that dangerous, how did you get here?"

"It's a good question, but I don't remember." Though could this mean that there was a Night Road in the Waterwood? Certainly, it was remote, but I got the impression people visited from time to time and weren't there some signs of a nearby Night Road?

She lowered the tablet. "And you want to open one so you can go back home?"

"Not any time soon. I have things to do here and I'd need to do it safely. But I'm hoping there are some answers in that tablet. May I?"

Gemiad appeared not to hear my request for a second, then she handed both the tablet and the glasses over. Donning the latter, I paged through the text, just reading a few snippets here and there. "This looks to be a travelogue. Written by someone who traveled from world to world, obviously. Hard to date it. The tablet's less than 4,000 years old, but this text could be either older or younger."

"And how do you know how old it is?"

"The tablet told me." I gave her what I believed to be a sly smile, though Gemiad did not look impressed by it. All I could do was shrug. "It's true. Consider it another trick. I told you a reporter needs their bag of tricks to get to the bottom of the story. In any case, there must be a reason why the Butcher was studying it. Perhaps this was what guided him to this world in the first place. Which would suggest that he wasn't the first to visit."

There were a lot of entries here though. A lot of worlds. And if this person had visited before the Breaking, the descriptions would be near unrecognizable.

Gemiad put her hands on her hips. "Are you going to spend the next couple of weeks hiding in here reading that?"

I gave the tablet a longing look and rubbed the top edge of the crystal. "I'd like to, but there are too many other things that need seeing to. I'll have to read on the go."

"Go where?"

"West. I … have my suspicions regarding these rumors of fighting on the Almoth Plain. I've noticed nobody seems to know who is doing the fighting. They think it's Arad Doman and Tarabon, but if that were true, there should be firmer information. I think there's something else going on."

"Like what? You think Saldea has turned her attention south?"

"Right after they had a Trolloc army mass on their northern border? Unlikely, but I won't know until I've taken a look for myself. And I have some business in Baerlon. So I guess I'll be leaving the reporting here in Caemlyn in your and Caul's capable hands again."

Gemiad shook her head. "No, you're leaving it in Caul's hands. I'm coming with."

I took off my glasses. "I'll be going into a war. A vicious one, judging by the rumors coming in from the west. You've been a reporter for not even two months, Gemiad." I shook my head and put the Glasses of Translation back into their case. "You need more experience before you get into conflict reporting."

"I'm one of the most experienced reporters in the city," she said. The clock on the mantelpiece interrupted her when it announced that it was ten o'clock in the morning. With ten rings of a bell a little eastern dragon in silver and blue danced its way from left to right before disappearing back into the housing. Perhaps I shouldn't have spend an entire hour yesterday making that clock, but it had been a nice challenge.

Gemiad watched the dragon move with a puzzled frown, but refused to let it derail the present argument. "You're the only one any of us can learn from. But we can't if you disappear for how long?"

I had to think, but I was fairly sure Rand and the rest reached Falme in the fall. And then I planned on escorting Mat back to Tar Valon, just in case. "Months. Might be winter before I get back."

"Oh, Hagaidhrin will be overjoyed to hear that." She held up a single finger. "But that only proves my point. One of us needs to come along to learn more about this entire new profession you invented and I at least already know your secret."

"I can't guarantee your safety," I tried. And she only knew one of my secrets.

"Like it was safe with Melolrin looking to shut us up? Or how about the Butcher?" Gemiad glanced out of the office as she mentioned that one. In the direction of the cellar's staircase, though it couldn't be seen from up here on the first floor. "This work is dangerous. But I'm not here to be safe."

I wanted to say no. Nosy had been bad enough, but as innocent a creature as he'd been, he'd still been only a horse. I didn't want to drag one of my people into danger. Those few minutes where I didn't know whether Gemiad had been killed by the Butcher still turned my stomach. And yet … and yet a part of me could only approve. That part of me tied to Freedom was fully on board with Gemiad making her own choice and striking out.

And that was it, wasn't it? Gemiad was an adult, barely, and thinking like everybody was a child for whom everything needed to be decided for by me was a path and destination I didn't want to go down. "Very well," I found myself saying.

"However!" I held up a finger. "Once we're on our way, there's no going back. Second," I said as the second finger went up. "If I tell you to hang back, to run, that it is too dangerous. You will listen! And third, if you have questions or worries, if you think something's wrong or you're struggling, you will tell me. Swear that to me on the Light and your hope of salvation and rebirth, and I'll take you along."

I'd asked for a heavy oath, but I had no choice. Gemiad said nothing at first, only regarded me as the clock kept ticking. "This isn't just about some war on Almoth Plane. This has something to do with the … The Last Battle." She wetted her lips. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"Gemiad, most events in this world are now connected to Tarmon Gai'don. But yes, I believe something more is going on. And I don't know how dangerous it will be. For you, or for me. If you wish to find out anyway, swear your oath. Or I leave you here. And don't think you can follow me or something like that." I smiled. "You've only seen some of my tricks."

She let out a long sigh before placing her hand on her chest. "I swear to follow you, to heed your command, and to not hold back my thoughts to you. I swear to this until we reach Caemlyn again. I swear this by the Light and my hope of salvation and rebirth. Or may the Creator's face turn from me forever and darkness consume my soul."

"Thank you," I said. "Now go and pack. But lightly, we won't be using any horses for this journey."

"No horses? But it will take a month just to reach Baerlon on foot," Gemiad protested. She put her hands on her hips. "And I know you can just turn stone into gold. That's how you've been affording everything. You can pay for a herd of horses."

"Not without dropping the local price of gold until its worth as much as copper, actually. But horses are too slow. Don't pack too much in the way of provisions, but make sure you have some things to keep you warm like a blanket or two and a scarf. Might also want to get a woolen cap."

"Are you going to tell me how we're going to get to Baerlon faster than by horse?"

I shook my head. "I'll show you. We leave tomorrow when the gates open. I'll talk to Hagaidhrin about all of this. If you have any goodbyes you want to make, you should do so now."

Gemiad looked away. "I don't have many. Tomorrow then, the western gate?"

I mulled that over, then shook my head once more. "No, the northern one will be faster."

The questions multiplied behind her eyes, but she held them back this time and walked out of my office. I gave it one final look; I wouldn't see this place for many months if my plans held. I wished I could place a guard on it, just in case, but I could need my Dominion later on. I might need every drop of it.

VVVV

We slipped through the gate as soon as it cracked open, the red sun climbing over the horizon casting long shadows over everything as robins and larks greeted it with their song. Spring was in full bloom and sprinting toward summer.

We weren't alone, already people were trying to get into Caemlyn but the traffic was light enough that we could comfortably walk side by side with some space between us. Passing through North Town, we turned off the road to Tar Valon and headed northwest towards the closest part of the Braem Wood.

Caemlyn itself was surrounded mostly by flat farmland for many a mile to provide most of the food all those people in the capital needed. It meant we spent more than half the day walking past fields and little hamlets that weren't more than a couple of farms.

The road became a path that petered out into a trail just wide enough for one person as we entered the outskirts of the forest.

"Are we far enough away now?" Gemiad looked back. Off on the horizon there was a gray smudge; smoke from a hearth most likely.

"I believe we are. Stay there for a moment, please." I took several long steps away from her and took a deep breath. "You know I'm from elsewhere. But it's not just humans that live there. What you see before you now is a disguise. Remember your oath now and don't run."

"Run? I'm not—"

She choked on her words as I slipped out of my human form and in a few seconds I towered above her. "Afraid? Now I told you to be honest," I said as I lowered my muzzle so that she didn't have to look up so much.

Gemiad took a step back. "I … I …" Her eyes took me in, from my long neck to my folded wings and the long flat tail that almost knocked over a birch tree. She took another step back.

"And this is why I use my disguise," I noted, fighting to keep the sadness out of my voice. I had expected too much of her. Yet I didn't want to give up. "Caemlyn wasn't built for someone my size. Can you imagine me trying to get into the Queen's Blessing like this? They'd have to serve their soup in a washtub!"

She shook her head. "Ron?"

"In the flesh." I turned my head to my right a little. "Take deep breaths. There's no need to panic."

"Ron, I …" She shook her head and steadied herself by placing a hand on a nearby tree trunk. "What are you?"

I let out a sigh that ruffled Gemiad's hair. "It is a long story as the answer will lead to more questions. I would prefer to do it on the way." I lifted my head as I reared back to stand on my two hind legs and offered my left hand.

She eyed the hand but did not approach. "On the way?"

"Yes. We're going to fly to Baerlon."

"Fly? To Baerlon?"

"Yes, you may have noticed the wings," I said, flaring those appendages. "We won't make it all the way today. It will take us several days, in fact. But since neither you nor I can use the One Power, this is the fastest way to travel."

That startled her. Then she looked south. There was nothing there but meadows and the occasional copse of trees. I did not want to remind her of her oath again, but I was running out of options.

Gemiad looked up at me and took a deep breath. Then she walked over to my hand with hesitating steps, though she did not step onto it.

"You should get out one of the blankets and the scarf. It's colder up there," I said.

"So that's why. I wondered if you were planning on climbing a mountain. Or maybe go through the Ways like when you went with that Aes Sedai." She retrieved the items in question and wrapped them around her.

Without prompting from me she took a hold of my thumb and stepped into my hand. I gently brought her in and folded my other hand underneath to cup her.

"Hold on," I said before launching myself into the air. Not so hard as I normally did and I took care not to ascend too fast either as I turned west. Still, Gemiad gave one startled cry before she bit it off. She held on for dear life, her fingernails tried and failed to dig into the fine scales that covered my fingers.

I settled for an altitude of about a kilometer. Chilly, but not too cold and the air was perfectly breathable for Gemiad here. From up here, I could see the edges of settled land to the south, the boundaries of rectangular fields that cut through the natural lines of the landscape.

Gemiad shifted in my hands and gasped. "What is it?" I felt her shift again, but nothing more. The wind got quite loud up here. "You'll have to speak up, I can't hear you," I said even as I looked down and back my neck taking on a U-shape. I couldn't fly like this for long before it became somewhat disorientating.

"The view! I can see … everything!"

I chuckled and looked ahead again. "You think this is something? You haven't seen anything until you've seen a mountain from one and a half mile up. Or a city. But we won't be visiting any cities any time soon. For now, enjoy the view!" I certainly did.

It took some time before Gemiad spoke again. "So, we are on our way! Can you tell me now what you are?"

"Very well, but before I do, we should discuss the idea of likening a person to something else because they exhibit certain qualities. Or they want to convince others they have such qualities. For example, the Lion Throne is not actually made of lions nor does Morgase have any feline ancestry."

VVVV

Our campfire illuminated the weathered carvings in the rocks in which shadows we'd made our camp. As it had turned out, Gemiad knew a thing or two about butchering a catch so the smell of roasting rabbit filled the air.

Across the fire, she looked from me to the little stool I'd made and back again. She didn't give much attention to the one I'd made for her though. "How does that even work?"

"How does what work?"

"You're sitting on that stool. They're sturdy," she said, testing her own once. "But I've seen you now. You have to weigh ten tons at least! But I've seen you sit in chairs with no problem. How?"

I had to do some calculations whenever I was confronted with the weights and measurements of this world. With ten tons she meant almost 3 metric tons. Which wasn't too far off, though probably still a ton or two too light as I was somewhat bigger than a Tyrannosaurus Rex.

"Because I couldn't fit in if it sounded like a herd of bulls came in whenever I set foot inside a building. Not to mention that Basil Gil would have to serve my soup in a tub if I didn't. This disguise is perfect. At the moment I am human, inside and out. The extra mass has been folded away."

She shook her head. "I don't understand. How does that make you lighter?"

"Because there's only so much of me here and the rest is not quite here. It's hard to put it into words." Mostly because I did much of this on instinct. I knew sort of what happened, but nobody had explained it to me.

"And can every … D-d." She faltered as she quickly glanced about. Not that anybody was here on the southern edge of the Caralain Grass. Nothing but us, the wildlife, and at least one Tuatha'an caravan we saw an hour ago; they'd been heading north.

"Some of my kind can." If indeed every fiction was as real as the Wheel of Time turned out to be. I took a sip from my own cup. "Many cannot. I'm … unusual."

"You're the only dr … the only one of your kind here, aren't you?"

"I hope so," I said, causing Gemiad to rear back in surprise. I gave her a smile. "Most dragons aren't as charmed of humans as I am. We can be an arrogant bunch, too. I can't rule out that another dragon would decide to make a deal with the Dark One. The situation is bad enough without the interference of another dragon."

Her hands tightened around her cup. "This project you talked about in Baerlon. It's got something to do with that. Preparing for," she paused to take a deep breath. "The Last Battle."

"Indirectly." I judged the rabbit to be about done and started to divide it up. "Baerlon is situated near mines for both iron and coal, exactly the things you need to make steel and I know a way to make a lot of steel very quickly."

Gemiad didn't seem to notice the plate of food I held out to her. "Steel? Just … steel?"

"Well, yes. What were you expecting?" I wiggled the plate, but no luck.

"I don't know. I thought you'd found something in that house. Some weapon from the Age of Legends or-or-or-something!"

I shook my head. "Haven't found much yet. Though there might be something in the crystal tablet. But steel is very useful. You need it for all sorts of things, including armor and weapons. I could make plenty of steel by myself," I admitted. "But then I wouldn't be able to do much else. No, better to teach people how to fish."

She finally took the plate but shook her head as she did. "What do you mean by that?"

"Ah, just a saying. Give a man a fish, and he'll eat for a day. Teach the man to fish, and he'll eat for a lifetime. In Baerlon I want to put that principle to work. Hopefully, it won't take more than a month and then we continue west."

"And what am I supposed to do while you do that?"

"Whatever you want. But if you want a suggestion, we could use a correspondent in Baerlon to pass reports on to Caemlyn. If you could find someone and train them up, that would be helpful."

"Reports from where? Not much there except the Two Rivers and nothing comes out of there but wool and tabac. The Mountains of Mist are between Baerlon and Arad Doman and not much news comes through the passes. Certainly not before it reaches us in Caemlyn by ship."

"But some news does reach us. Consider this an opportunity to learn when the stakes are low. And I think the region will become more important in the years to come."

It could be argued it already had been these past twenty years.