The ride out was quiet, no one willing to bar the Aes Sedai's way after she saved the village, officially. More likely, they were terrified of me. The gleeman, Thom Merillin, accompanied us, expecting Moiraine to give him a lot more trouble than she did, which spooked him a bit. All night as we rode, he gave me sad looks when he thought the Aes Sedai was not looking. Moiraine bid me to ride with her as we left the village behind in the silent night, no Bel Tine celebrations this year, the bonfires burning Trolloc corpses still, more than a day later.
"Rand, I ask that you accompany me to every session I have with Egwene, and attempt to glean knowledge from what I teach her, while you meditate on the One Power—but don't seize it! I cannot teach you to channel saidin, but I can teach you of the One Power and how Aes Sedai learn. That has to be worth something."
"I will be in your debt, Moiraine Sedai. I know this is information that men are not privy to."
She looked at me, the small smile she gave shining white in the full moon's light, making my heart race. "You are correct. But if there is any man who can figure out how to channel from watching and listening, it is the one with the tales of a male channeler in his head."
Egwene rode up as soon as she saw the Aes Sedai was finished with me, a look of determination on her face. "You're Rand, despite losing your memories," she said authoritatively.
"Maybe," I replied, with a casual air that seemed to infuriate her. Shit. I hurried to clarify before she went off on me for not taking this seriously. "I may be Rand, and I may not be. Rand certainly would have never read books about himself, while a soul from another Age very well may have. We read tales of heroes from Ages long past often enough. Is it possible for the Creator to pluck a soul from another Age, and leave only the memories of the relevant books they read? I do not doubt it. I do not doubt anything is impossible for Him."
That set her thinking, worrying her lower lip in the bright moonlight. "But you act like him, stubborn to a fault, kind-hearted, a little foolish, especially with this 'Maybe I'm someone else' nonsense. You're a good man, you're a hero, no matter what the Congars and the Coplins say. You used the curse you have for the Light, not worried about how any could see you."
"If you see Rand in me, I think that is a good thing. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm not 'your Rand' anymore, Egwene. I'm a new Rand, who will grow and change in ways different from the old Rand. Please understand," I pleaded. I did not want to hurt her, but it was better to get the truth out there.
That took the wind out of her sails. She slumped in her saddle. I hastened to add, "That doesn't mean I'm not your friend. I'll always be your friend. And I'll be joining you in your lessons on being an Aes Sedai."
She sat right back up, excited, eager to think on less heavy matters. "Oh, I can hardly wait! I do wonder what she will be teaching me. Well, us, if you are joining." She seemed confused by that, cutely frowning.
"She cannot teach me, but I can learn, if that makes sense? Learn techniques and how to do things my own way, as a man, from watching you and her," I explained.
Egwene nodded hesitantly. "…Why would she teach you, anyways? Aren't you going to be… be gentled?" The word seemed to leave a bad taste in her mouth and her eyes tightened.
I couldn't help a small chuckle. "Egwene, there is no need to whisper the word. I know what my fate is, of that you can be assured. But if we come across another fist of Trollocs, or more, would you rather it was Moiraine Sedai alone using the One Power to fight them, or if I joined, lending my strength. I helped kill a Fade, just last night."
She frowned at me. "I don't understand how you can be so happy. Rand would be terrified."
"Rand was terrified, in the books, and I have plenty of things to be scared of now, but Moiraine Sedai is not one of them. I know Moiraine Sedai, I've read enough of her to understand she is no danger to me. You do not need to worry about me."
She frowned still, but accepted my words reluctantly. "If you say so… Maybe you are different, now." And then she turned to ride with Nynaeve, not giving me a backwards glance. I frowned, watching her go.
It was a long night of riding, something I was both familiar with and utterly new, which unsettled me. To feel such incongruous feelings simultaneously, it was not a pleasant experience. As the hours went on I adapted, until I felt as if I was born in the saddle by the time we reached Taren Ferry.
Moiraine had put up a fog as we traveled, protecting us from the sight of any Draghkar that flew above the Two Rivers. By the time we reached the ferryman's home it was thick as soup and the others were like shadows even a pace or two away. Lan banged on the door, rousing the rotund man from slumber and pressing a purse of gold into his greedy hands, with promises of more. We waited at the dock while groggy men began arriving in hastily put on clothes, blinking blearily in the light of their torches as the men set about preparing the ferry to move. The ferryman himself rode along with us, calling out commands and admonishing sloppy work.
The quiet rocking of the boat and the susurration of the waves, lulled me to a half slumber as we crossed, until with a thunk we landed on the opposite shore. Rapidly we disembarked, accompanied by the ferryman and his men, looking sullen in the night, cudgels and torches in hand. Each group stared at the other for a long moment. It seemed obvious to me they meant to do a little intimidation or something more.
"As promised, the other purse of gold, Master Hightower." Moiraine called out, a melodious voice that hinted danger if he did not accept. The air became chill on my skin, and I sure Moiraine was channeling. The ferryman looked to Lan, standing with his hand on his hilt, to me copying him, Perrin fingering his axe, Mat with his bow, and Thom with his knives, and gulped. The men looked uneasily between us, suddenly uncertain. With a cold smile filled with teeth, I began to slide my blade free.
Finally, Master Hightower nodded, the sound causing him to move. "Yes m'lady, just as we agreed." As he reached for the proffered purse, we all heard a loud snap, and then a half dozen more, as the ferry detached from the docks and began drifting into the river.
"No! Blood and ashes men, do none of you know how to tie a blasted knot right? Get out there, swim out there and get it all tied up again. Light blind me, I will not lose the ferry!"
As if responding to his words and the men about to leap into the river, a whirlpool suddenly formed in the river, the ferry neatly falling into it and tearing apart into planks and logs swirling around. The would-be swimmers reared back and fled the water.
The ferryman turned back to Moiraine Sedai who smiled a false smile, and Lan who stood cold and still. "It appears the river is not safe tonight," Moiraine said. "It is best you stick to this side until dawn breaks, but we must be going. The purse should enough to build you another ferry, and maybe this one will survive. Unfortunate luck, Master Hightower."
And then she turned without waiting for reply and mounted her white mare, riding off without another word, leaving the ferryman gaping. I kept up with her as did Egwene and Lan. Thom, Mat and Perrin were stuck staring at the river, where flotsam and debris floated, before they too mounted and warily followed the Aes Sedai.
"There's no whirlpools in the Taren, fool," I heard Master Hightower moan loudly in reply to someone, despair in his voice. Moiraine did not respond but Lan gave the man a look over his shoulder. Nothing more was needed.
"They will not like that you did that," I told Moiraine, and she sniffed.
"I have no need to explain myself to farm boys and a gleeman. They will simply have to accept it."
Sheesh, okay. Sore spot, I guess. "I could try explaining?" I offered.
"You can do your best, but I am afraid your friends will simply see you as parroting my words." Her tone was dismissive and her face flat. I did not know whether I, or something else annoyed her.
As we picked our way through the underbrush near the road, we came across the mass of leatherleafs, oaks, and firs all knocked over by a storm long ago, leaving a wooden cave for us to shelter in for the few hours before dawn. Instead of joining Moiraine and Egwene, I hung back, joining Mat and Perrin as they spoke quietly with the gleeman, shutting up as I neared. I grimaced. The gleeman is probably telling them horror stories about Aes Sedai. One that is probably somewhat justified, damn Black Ajah.
"That was intense, huh?" I called out as I settled next to Perrin, on the far side from Thom, as we brushed our horses, preparing them for some hours of rest. I winced at the lame opening, but tried to smile convincingly.
"Do you know why she did that, Rand?" Perrin asked, confused with an undercurrent of fear. Thank you, Perrin.
The gleeman spoke up, not letting me answer, a scowl on his face. "She told you what to you to tell us, did she not?"
"She did not," I refuted. "She said she does not need to waste time explaining her reasoning to farm boys and gleemen, but I will try to explain, anyway." I said, a little sharply.
Mat scoffed. "She wants to take us away and won't even explain why she does what she does. Especially thing like that whirlpool! That was not natural. How are we supposed to trust her?"
Slowly, I spoke. "I don't think she expects us to trust her. She expects us to listen to her and her Warder."
Perrin looked baffled by that, but Thom gave me a thoughtful look. "Smarter than you seem, with that head wound of yours." I absently touched my bandage. "An Aes Sedai does not care to explain her reasonings, as they are often myriad and would only bring up more questions besides. It's best to hunker down and listen when an Aes Sedai speaks, then figure out how to leave as soon as possible." He looked me in the eye. "Aes Sedai are dangerous for men, like you."
I smiled, touched by his willingness to assist me, a blatant male channeler. "Moiraine Sedai is the safest Aes Sedai for me that has ever lived, since the Breaking. I know this for true. I woke up, Thom Merillin, with some knowledge to replace what I lost from the fall. I know things now, secrets. And one of those secrets means that Moiraine would never deign to harm me. That she would rather die than see me hurt."
The other Two Rivers boys looked at me strange, while Thom gave me a considering look. "What exactly about you is so special? Other Aes Sedai…" he trails off.
I looked straight at Thom and finished his sentence. "Other Aes Sedai sometimes gentle men right then and there, in front of their whole village." It all comes down to Owen, just like in the books.
A series of emotions flash so quickly across the old man's face I can barely read them, his whiskers twitching as he deliberately tried to calm himself. "Yes," he finally answered, his voice thick. "Some Aes Sedai do that." He paused, looking off ahead at the Aes Sedai, regret coloring his visage. "Secrets huh? Well, if you know her secrets as well as you apparently know mine, I can see why you don't fear gentling. I guess I'll trust you she's different, better than the rest, even if that is not a high bar." Perrin looked at us, confused, but Mat seemed to realize something about Thom, about what we were talking around.
"Definitely better." I smiled. Even when Rand forced her away, she tried her best to help. Meddle, and plot, but help. I had to complete the Prophecies of the Dragon, however changed they were in this timeline, and who best to guide me but Moiraine, the woman who's done nothing but study the Prophecies and search for me her entire Aes Sedai life, nearly half her life? I was not nearly competent or stubborn enough to try and pull a book Rand, to go my way rather than hers, a wild, chaotic way. I would need her by my side, guiding and helping me. Even if that tied strings to me I would never break free of, that would just be the cost I paid.
"So why did she sink the ferry, anyway?" Mat asked, changing the subject. "If you know so much about the Aes Sedai now, all her secrets, tell us that." His voice was a little hostile, and he was too busy brushing down his horse to look at me. Is he upset with me? I thought to myself.
I frowned but answered. "If any shadowspawn, any Fade, any Darkfriend still lingers behind us, they cannot cross. That ferryman, it's awful his boat was wrecked, but Moiraine Sedai paid him two purses of gold, good and heavy purses from the sound of them. I consider that fair compensation for making sure the minions of the Dark One cannot follow us. And the real question is, how do we know he didn't carry the Trollocs over? Moiraine Sedai is uncertain how they came to be in the Two Rivers."
The idea rightfully horrified Perrin. "You don't think he really…!"
"I don't know how the Trollocs got here." It was not a lie, I knew how it happened in a story I was not living, a world slightly different from my present one. It was a very Aes Sedai sort of truth, though, and I felt bad for tricking the boys, but they needed to understand that Moiraine did this for their benefit. "But considering that it is the only way in or out of the Two Rivers that anyone knows of is Taren Ferry…"
I trailed off but Thom picked up what I was putting down and spoke up. "Trollocs don't cross running water if they can help it," he explained to the boys. "Only a Halfman would be able to order them across. The ferryman and a number of his men would have to be a Darkfriends. But the young Rand is right, it is the only way in or out that doesn't involve swimming across the Taren or the White River. The Trollocs and a Halfman, carted over a dozen at a time. It causes one's heart to shudder, just to think of so many Darkfriends, in a place as isolated as the Two Rivers." Thom seemed genuinely upset, almost rigid.
"They say Taren Ferry is full of thieves and liars, that if you give a Taren Ferry man something you have to check your hands to make sure he didn't steal any fingers. After seeing Trollocs in the Two Rivers, I believe it all. That ferryman has to be a Darkfriend. Burn me, he even tried to bully us, him and his men." Mat shivered. "Light, I'm agreeing with what an Aes Sedai did. Am I turning into another Rand?" He teased half-heartedly.
"Maybe it means you're being smart for once?" Perrin joked. "I would agree with the beautiful noblewoman, who can call lightning down from the sky, too. Especially if that man truly was a Darkfriend. I did not even think of that possibility, Rand. And to think they're so close to home." Perrin shuddered, as he gathered his bags, having finished with his horse.
"That's why I wanted to talk with you both!" I said, relieved that both of my friends saw the reasoning behind Moiraine actions. Perhaps there was some hope for trust between them, if Thom doesn't poison the well. "So you would understand there's more going on than what appears."
Moiraine stuck her head out from the small tunnel. "Rand? I remember telling you that you were to accompany me when I spoke with Egwene. Do you not?" Her voice silenced any further conversation, and Mat snickered at me.
"You've wasted enough time, go sheepherder." Lan spoke up from where he tended to Mandard, his horse, and Moiraine's white mare Aldieb.
I scrambled to hand my brushes and things to Perrin, Mat looking on amused, then I took my bedroll off from behind my saddle, and headed for the tunnel that glowed softly with reflected firelight. I crawled through a tunnel of branches to a low-hanging open space, maybe 5 and a half feet tall. Moiraine sat next to Egwene, and offered the other side of her, by the small fire. "I was telling Egwene, but how about we hear from you what you think the One Power is. I want to see how much you've retained from your 'reading'," she said, as I sat beside her.
I gathered my thought. "The One Power comes from the True Source, which powers the Wheel of Time. It is divided into a male half, saidin, and a female half, saidar, which push and pull on each other, turning the Wheel of Time. Saidar is like an endless river of water inexorably flowing that women must embrace to control, while saidin is a river of flame that overwhelms men and must be seized by willpower to control. Within each side of the One Power lies the flows of the Five Elements that compose the One Power; Earth, Fire, Air, Water, and Spirit. Women are more powerful in Air and Water, while men are more powerful in Earth and Fire."
Moiraine stopped me there. "That is enough. You certainly know much, Rand. I am… I should not be surprised you know how saidar works but I am. You were certainly less lyrical than I was, but you got the information across."
The other men, finished with putting away the horses, came shuffling in from the tunnel, barely able to stand bent over from the low ceiling that was just tall enough that Moiraine and Egwene could ignore it, but no one else could. They put away bags, and gathered around the small fire, warming their hands, eyes on me as I sat quietly beside the Aes Sedai while Moiraine and Egwene continued their lesson.
"Can it ever run out," asked Egwene. "The True Source?"
"No, child, of course not," Moiraine spoke graciously. "It is the infinite power of the Creator, built for man and woman in the beginning of Creation. We simply channel some infinitesimally small part whenever we touch it. We are the mill, and it is the river. Can a mill ever use up a river?" She sighed, taking on a frown. "Now, Rand left out a certain part in his explanation. The Dark One's touch has tainted saidin, like an oil on the surface of a well of water, or scum on top of a pond. To touch saidin every man must pass through that taint, and it seeps into them, into their soul, leading to madness and death." She did not look at me as she spoke. "For three thousand years, only saidar has beensafe to channel."
I trembled, remembering the foulness of touching the taint. The rancid perfume, the cold oily feeling on my skin, the taste like rotten meat and overripe fruit on my tongue. It touched me, somewhere deep inside me. And within the kernel of Darkness, madness would grow. It should have driven me to despair, this onrushing madness, a madness I knew all to well, but it did not. I felt fear, and a sullen depression that came with thinking of the madness that was inevitable until I cleansed saidin. I knew it was possible, with the Choden Kal, and Shadar Logoth, but was not certain how, really. But if I… And with that, my thoughts turn to curiosity rather than any depressive mood. Was a strange thing, but useful. As I pondered, the two channelers, one brand new, the other in her nineteenth year of wearing the shawl, continued speaking.
"And you really think I can channel?" Egwene was asking, eagerly, as I once more paid attention. Hopefully Moiraine did not notice my drifting mind.
"Child, If I was not here to help you, you would channel unconsciously, until you died or you became a Wilder, a woman who can occasionally channel but not without a significant block, like your Wisdom."
"Nynaeve can channel too? But then why did you not take her with us?" Egwene frowned.
"She is a wilder, and Emond Field's Wisdom. Her place right now is in the village, not learning the ways of the Aes Sedai. If I arrived a few years later, and you had survived your trials to become a Wilder I would have ignored you as well. The older a woman, the longer a wilder, the harder it is to teach them the proper discipline of an Aes Sedai," Moiraine said with a note of finality.
The discussion fascinated Perrin and Mat, and they did not even try to hide their listening, while Thom kept fiddling with his pipe, leaving it unlit as he listened in as well. Lan prepared a tea, a small copper travel kettle appearing in his hand, and a sachet of tea that smelled of herbs, of spearmint and lemongrass.
Moiraine rummaged in the pouch at her belt and produced the small blue gem on a gold chain, her kesiera, that she had earlier worn in her hair. "You are very close to your change, your first touching. It will be better if I guide you through it. That way you will avoid the… unpleasant effects that come to those who must find their own way."
Egwene's eyes widened as she looked at the stone, and she wet her lips repeatedly. "Is… does that have the Power?"
"Of course not," Moiraine snapped. "Things do not have the Power, child. Even an angreal is only a tool. This is just a pretty blue stone. But it can give off light. Here."
Egwene's hands trembled as Moiraine laid the stone on her fingertips. She started to pull back, but the Aes Sedai held both her hands in one of hers and gently touched the other to the side of Egwene's head.
"Look at the stone," the Aes Sedai said softly. "It is better this way than fumbling alone. Clear your mind of everything but the stone. Clear your mind, and let yourself drift. There is only the stone and emptiness. I will begin it. Drift, and let me guide you. No thoughts. Drift."
I joined them, my skin tingling with the chill of saidar, and cleared my mind with the Flame and the Void, feeling the distant roaring fire of saidin but straining not to touch it, even as it seemed to loom in my mind. The thought of touching the taint sent my stomach roiling.
Light bloomed in the stone, just one flash of blue and then gone, no brighter than a firefly. Egwene and Moiraine stared into the stone, faces empty. Another flash came, and another, until the azure light pulsed like the beating of a heart. One last, feeble flicker, and the stone was merely a bauble again. I held my breath.
For a moment Egwene continued to stare at the small stone, then she looked up at Moiraine. "I... I thought I felt... something, but... Perhaps you're mistaken about me. I am sorry I wasted your time."
"I have wasted nothing, child." A small smile of satisfaction flitted across Moiraine's lips. "That last light was yours alone."
"It was?" Egwene exclaimed, then slid immediately back into glumness. "But it was barely there at all."
"Now you are behaving like a foolish village girl. Most who come to Tar Valon must study for many months before they can do what you just did. You may go far. Perhaps even the Amyrlin Seat, one day, if you study hard and work hard."
"You mean…?" With a cry of delight Egwene threw her arms around the Aes Sedai. "Oh, thank you. Rand, did you hear? I'm going to be an Aes Sedai!"
I smiled sadly, knowing our paths would take us far from each other, far enough that she will not love me anymore, soon enough. "You will be, I'm certain of it. The best Aes Sedai you can be."
Egwene frowned. "How can you say that so easily, Rand? She's going to gentle you, and everyone knows what happens when men are gentled." Her eyes looked teary and the other men looked uncomfortable, but Moiraine was serene and said nothing, even at Lan's frown. "How can you tell me to be the best Aes Sedai I can be, when they'll be the death of you." She broke down crying then, and Moiraine took her into her arms, a sympathetic look on her face.
"There, there child. Let the tears flow. But do not worry about Rand, I will make sure he lives a long and fruitful life. That I swear, an Aes Sedai's oath."
Days later Thom would think to himself, the boy and the Aes Sedai are strange. A boy who could channel and the Aes Sedai who would gentle him, holding quiet conversations and disappearing off into the night with young Egwene, as she learned of the One Power. If he wasn't sane, Thom would have thought that Moiraine Sedai was teaching the boy how to channel. But, no, that could not be. That is something no Aes Sedai would ever do, not even if it saved their lives. Aes Sedai hated men who could channel, and this one merely hid her hate well, unwilling to take it out on a mostly innocent boy, which simply proved the boy was right, that she was better than most of her sisters. And when the boy was gentled, having lost that cursed Power of his, Thom will be there to catch him, keep him alive the way he could not with Owen, that he promised, and keep him out of Aes Sedai clutches.
I wanted to travel straight to Baerlon, but Moiraine and Lan were both vehemently against the idea, so for six boring days we traveled on the road only when no signs of civilization lingered, going miles out of our way to dodge farms and travelers. Lonely farms dotted the North Road in occasional clusters, but we saw very few travelers.
Every time we stopped to make camp, Lan trained us. In the sword for me, the axe for Perrin, but Mat took to throwing knives with the gleeman, laughing at our stumbling around with our weapons while he threw knife after knife. Then after sunset the gleeman would take over, teaching us juggling and other gleeman tricks, even teaching me the flute, 'since I was a shepherd'. "Just in case you need to make a little money," he would say, glancing at me quickly, then away. He also taught us sometimes on the ride on particularly lonely stretches of road, or sung songs and told tales to keep our mood up, until Lan would inevitably shush him, having heard a sign of civilization no one else could hear.
I knew the whole situation I was in was pushing his buttons, but honestly I did not mind having Thom Merillin—the Gray Fox, retired player of the Great Game of Houses—thinking he needed to protect me. I would need as many people by my side as possible.
Each night I joined Moiraine and Egwene as they plumbed the mysteries of the One Power, Moiraine walking Egwene through the meditation each night, her flashes of light getting slowly brighter, stronger. I learned nothing I did not already know, but it was a delight to see how excited and proud Egwene was of herself when she channeled successfully. During the day she spent much of her time telling stories of her and the old Rand, and of Rand in general. His successes of feastdays with the bow and the sling and in races, various pranks she foiled and spoiled, much to Rand's dismay, the adventures into the Westwood and the Waterwood when they were children. Perrin and Mat did much the same, and I found an easy rapport with Perrin. He was quiet and solid presence as we rode. I had debated telling him of his eyes, but decided to wait until it started happening. Otherwise I would seem like a nutter.
It was the sixth day and Lan had just returned to tell Moiraine what he scouted ahead. I focused on them, rather than my friends, as they glanced back at me for a moment, before turning front again.
"Hey, Rand," Mat called, "I can juggle four!" I waved in reply without looking around, wondering what exactly it was Lan was telling Moiraine. I was not told, of course, unless Moiraine told everyone. "I told you I'd get to four before you. I—Look!"
They had topped a low hill, and below them, a scant mile away through the stark trees and the stretching shadows of evening, lay Baerlon. I gasped, trying to smile and gape at the same time. I had never seen its like and only read tales of cities.
A log wall, nearly twenty feet tall, surrounded the town, with wooden watchtowers scattered along its length. Within, rooftops of slate and tile glinted with the sinking sun, and feathers of smoke drifted upward from 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 ox-carts trudging toward the palisade. Farms lay scattered about the town, thickest to the north while only a few broke the forest to the south, but that barely crossed my mind.
"How do so many people live in one place?" I said.
Egwene nearly shouted, her voice filled with excitement. "It looks bigger than Watch Hill, Devon's Ride and Tarren Ferry combined!"
Thom snorted. "Country folk," he muttered with a wry smile. Perrin and Mat were too busy staring to notice.
Similarly to the book, Moiraine Sedai had a man at the gate to let her in, recognizing her as Mistress Alys, and Lan as Master Andra. He told us gossip, Whitecloaks camped outside the city, with only five allow inside to preach their word, and a fierce winter in the Misty Mountains that sends the wolves howling, and a false Dragon in Ghealdan. Logain. I paid attention to that.
"The Aes Sedai 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 are thousands following him. And he's got himself two Wives so far, noble ladies I hear."
I frowned at the last sentence. I didn't remember anything about that, then shrugged. There was a lot I didn't quite remember, but I was pretty sure polygamy was an Aiel-only thing. Maybe it happens elsewhere, rarely? The problem was it was entirely possible it simply wasn't mentioned in the stories.
"Don't be a fool," Lan snapped, and the gate guard'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." The gate guard 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," the guard 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.
And then we were off into Baerlon, down a road barely two wagons wide, empty of people as we rode past warehouses and tall fences.
Mat was curious. "What does that mean, calling something the People of the Dragon? Is that important?"
Thom let out a curt "Karaethon Cycle," which only got confused looks from Perrin and Mat and a nod from me. Thom let out a laugh. "Well, one of you knows what I'm talking about. Rand, why don't you tell your friends what you know."
"The Karaethon Cycle,also known as the Prophecies of the Dragon, speaks of how the Dragon Reborn will conquer the Stone of Tear, a great fortress from the Breaking of the World that has never fallen, with the help of the People of the Dragon. It also says a lot of other things."
Thom corrected, "One of the Prophecies says that the Stone of Tear will never fall until the People of the Dragon come to the Stone. Another says the Stone will never fall till the Dragon's hand wields the Sword That Cannot Be Touched." Thom grimaced. "The fall of the Stone will be one of the major proofs that the Dragon has been reborn. May the Stone stand till I am dust."
Sorry Thom, unfortunately I cannot wait that long, I thought with some amusement at the grim subject. After we got the Horn of Valere from the Eye of the World, and eliminated some Forsaken, it would be time to head to Falme and head off the Hailene, the Forerunners in the Old Tongue. A massive expeditionary force sent to scout the Westlands in preparation for the Corenne—The Return in the Old Tongue, and an even larger invasion force meant to conquer the Westlands—and then I'll meet up with the Aiel and conquer the Stone.
"A sword that cannot be touched?" asked Perrin, looking a little pale. "How can that be?"
Thom looked at me, and I nodded. "Callandor,the Sword That Is Not A Sword, the Sword That Cannot Be Touched. A great crystal sword that floats in the Heart of the Stone, and is an angreal from before the Breaking, meant to give greater power to Male Aes Sedai."
Thom looked startled at the information, and glanced around quickly, but not one person seemed to have heard. "Even I did not know nearly that much," he exclaimed. "These secrets of yours…" he looked at me then shook his head. "Nevermind."
"So this Callandor, the Dragon Reborn is supposed to wield it?" Mat asked, shivering. "An object that can give him even more power? Light, he'll probably go mad and Break the World again with it."
Anger flared in me. It wasn't like I wanted to go mad. "Or maybe he'll use it to defeat the Dark One, if its so powerful. The Dragon Reborn is not just going to break the world." My voice was a little loud, and I caught a man staring at me when I finished. He blinked, then rushed off down the street.
Thom grimaced. "This was not a conversation to have in a town street, with Whitecloaks around. If we must, we can discuss this later."
Mat gave me a look, but spoke up. "No, I think I understand now. Lets not waste more air on such things. Light willing, it will never happen in our lifetime. Besides, I think we are here."
Lan opened the gate for us to enter, causing a stablehand to shout, but the owner of the Stag and Lion, Master Fitch, let us in. It was busy inside, and smoky. The common room seemed to shake with the noise, a wave of it pouring out as a maid opened the door and Lan sauntered in under Moiraine's orders, seeking news.
I was anticipating the bath, having desired one greatly these past days from waking up in my own sweat and stink, with only a rag and the occasional cold streams of water nearby to clean me. It was glorious, the bath, warm and luxurious and I wallowed in it. Mat still almost spilled the beans about the Trollocs and the dead Fade, before Perrin and I covered, and later Lan barged in and tore us a new one for our conversation out on the streets, calling the gleeman and myself fools for the words we spoke when we knew Whitecloaks in the town. I let it wash over me, content to lie in the bath for as long as possible. When we finally left, the water having cooled considerably, I felt relaxed in a way I had not all week, even in the aftermath of Lan telling me off.
Then I saw Min, standing there in her jacket, men's shirt and trousers, and my stamp dropped into my hand. Why does this happen every time I see a pretty lady? I wondered, frustrated. But more than that I wondered if my fate would be the same, if the Pattern would destine us to fall in love, if the Pattern still destined me to bleed on that black rock and die. What was the difference between me and the book Rand? What does she see when she looks at me? I thought these things as I gazed at her, and she caught my gaze, speaking quietly to Moiraine as she looked first at me, then at the others.
Lan held us back in the hall as we waited for Moiraine to finish.
"Who's that boy Moiraine's talking to?" asked Mat.
"Woman." I automatically corrected. "She's a woman. Her name is Min."
"How is it you know the name of some random Baerlon woman who dresses like a man, but cannot remember putting a badger in Cenn Buies bed, or the string cheese incident?" Mat complained.
"Blame the Creator for putting such wisdom in my head. I do not know the reason."
Mat scoffed.
Finally, Moiraine was done, and she walked over. "Well, now," Moiraine said as they drew closer, "I am sure a bath has given you all an appetite. Master Fitch has given us a private dining room." She talked on inconsequentially as she turned to lead the way, about their rooms and the crowding in the town, and how the innkeeper hoped Thom would favor the common room with some music and a story or two. She never mentioned Min.
The private dining room had an oak table with a dozen chairs around it, and a thick rug on the floor. As we entered, Egwene, freshly gleaming hair combed out around her shoulder, turned from warming her hands at the fire crackling on the hearth to smile at me. I pocketed the stamp, the smile making me blush. She really is a pretty girl, but she is not for me, I told myself.
As she came over to me, Master Fitch bustled in followed by four women in white aprons. He was a rotund man, with a good-natured smile and a balding head, just like the only other innkeeper I knew, Master al'Vere. The women were holding a platter with three roast chickens and others bearing silver, pottery dishes, and covered bowls. The women began setting the table immediately, while the innkeeper bowed to Moiraine.
"My apologies, Mistress Alys, for making you wait like this, but with so many people in the inn, it's a wonder anybody gets served at all. I am afraid the food isn't what it should be, either. Just the chickens, and some turnips and henpeas, with a little cheese for after. No, it just isn't what it should be. I truly do apologize."
"A feast," Moiraine smiled. "For these troubled times, a feast indeed, Master Fitch."
The innkeeper bowed again. His wispy hair, sticking out in all directions as if he constantly ran his hands through it, made the bow comical, but his grin was so pleasant that anyone who laughed would be laughing with him, not at him.
"My thanks, Mistress Alys. My thanks." As he straightened he frowned and wiped an imagined bit of dust from the table with a corner of his apron. "It isn't what I would have laid before you a year ago, of course. Not nearly. The winter. Yes. The winter. My cellars are emptying out, and the market is all but bare. And who can blame the farm folk? Who? There's certainly no telling when they'll harvest another crop. No telling at all. It's the wolves get the mutton and beef that should go on people's tables, and..."
Abruptly he seemed to realize that this was hardly the conversation to settle his guests to a comfortable meal. "How I do run on. Full of old wind, that's me. Old wind. Mari, Cinda, let these good people eat in peace." He made shooing gestures at the women and, as they scurried from the room, swung back to bow to Moiraine yet again. "I hope you enjoy your meal, Mistress Alys. If there's anything else you need, just speak it, and I will fetch it. Just you speak it. It is a pleasure serving you and Master Andra. A pleasure." He gave one more deep bow and was gone, closing the door softly behind him.
Lan had slouched against the wall through all of this as if half asleep. Now he leaped up and was at the door in two long strides. Pressing an ear to a door panel, he listened intently for a slow count of thirty, then snatched open the door and stuck his head into the hall. "They're gone," he said at last, closing the door. "We can talk safely."
"I know you say not to trust anyone," Egwene said, "but if you suspect the innkeeper, why stay here?"
"I suspect him no more than anyone else," Lan replied. "But then, until we reach Tar Valon, I suspect everyone. There, I'll suspect only half."
I nodded in agreement and the smile that had been forming on Mat and Perrin's faces, as if the Warder had told a joke, died on the vine.
"He exaggerates," Moiraine told them soothingly. "Master Fitch is a good man, honest and trustworthy. But he does like to talk, and with the best will in the world he might let something slip to the wrong ear. And I have never yet stopped at an inn where half the maids did not listen at doors and spend more time gossiping than making beds. Come, let us be seated before our meal gets cold."
They took places around the table, with Moiraine at the head and Lan at the foot, and for a while everyone was too busy filling their plates for talk. It might not have been a feast, but after close to a week of flatbread and dried meat, it tasted like one.
After a time, Moiraine asked, "What did you learn in the common room?" Knives and forks stilled, suspended in midair, and all eyes turned to the Warder.
"Little that's good," Lan replied. "Avin was right, at least as far as talk has it. There was a battle in Ghealdan, and Logain was the victor. A dozen different stories are floating about, but they all agree on that."
"The Aes Sedai?" Moiraine asked quietly, and Lan shook his head.
"I don't know. Some say they were all killed, some say none." He snorted. "Some even say they went over to Logain. There's nothing reliable, and I did not care to show too much interest."
She looked to me then. "What do you remember of the books? Do they detail the outcome?"
Mat and Perrin looked confused, but Egwene perked with interest, and the gleeman watched me with considering eyes.
"I remember a few sisters died, but they were successful. Logain is on his way to Tar Valon and we may see him in Caemlyn, if we are quick enough."
Moiraine looked mournful for a moment, before adopting a calm, though slightly saddened, repose. "Any sister lost is a tragedy, but if they succeeded in capturing him… That is still good news."
Thom spoke up. "And you trust the words out of a country boy's mouth, just like that, Aes Sedai?" He was truly curious, but frowning at me now.
"When they come from a Foretelling I do, gleeman," she replied, to Thom's surprise, before turning back to Lan. "And what of our own circumstances."
"There, the news is better. No odd happenings, no strangers around who might be Myrddraal, certainly no Trollocs. And the Whitecloaks are busy trying to make trouble for Govenor Adan because he won't cooperate with them. They will not even notice us unless we advertise ourselves."
"Good," Moiraine said. "That agrees with what the bath maid said. Gossip does have its points. Now," she addressed the entire company, "we have a long journey still ahead of us, but the last week has not been easy, either, so I propose to remain here tonight and tomorrow night, and leave early the following morning." All the younger folk grinned; a city for the first time. Or at least a town. Moiraine smiled, but she still said, "What does Master Andra say to that?"
Lan eyed the grinning faces flatly. "Well enough, if they remember what I've told them for a change."
Thom snorted through his mustaches. "These country folk loose in a... a city." He snorted again and shook his head.
With the crowding at the inn there were only three rooms to be had, one for Moiraine and Egwene, and two to take the men. I found myself sharing with Lan and Thom, on the fourth floor at the back, close up under the overhanging eaves, with a single small window that overlooked the stableyard. Full night had fallen, and light from the inn made a pool outside. It was a small room to begin, and an extra bed set up for Thom made it smaller, though all three were narrow. And hard, I found when I threw myself down on mine. Definitely not the best room.
Thom stayed only long enough to uncase his flute and harp, then left already practicing grand poses. Lan went with him.
I was tired, but I had to ask Moiraine what Min spoke of. I had to know what she saw. I got up and I followed Lan.
"Which room did Moi-Mistress Alys and Egwene take, Master Andra?" I asked as caught him heading down the flight of stairs.
"Third floor, left hallway from the landing, last door on the left. Be quick about it, the Mistress needs her rest," he said, cooly.
I followed until the third floor landing, following the instructions. A quiet knock and a "It's Rand" caused the door to open, but no one attended to it. Moiraine and Egwene sat across from eachother, with the blue crystal between them. I swiftly closed the door.
I could not help myself from asking. "I'm sorry to bother you, Moriaine Sedai, but I must know what Min told you. Did she see blood on a black rock, or my body on a funeral bier?"
Moiraine did not look up, as Egwene concentrated, flickering flashes of light filling the crystal. "What she saw is for her alone to tell. The funeral bier was not something she mentioned, but she may have seen it, anyway. Now is there any other reason for you to be disrupting our lesson? Either join and work on meditating, or leave."
Disgruntled and sensing Moiraine would not budge, I joined. Sometimes the glow of saidin was so bright and near it was like I barely had to reach out to touch it, and other times it was like the reflection of the moon on the water, perfectly visible but infinitely far away. Still, Moiraine did not let me touch it and I was both glad and frustrated. Each day Egwene grew slowly better, first a strong flash, then two, then every flash, some weak and flickering, others bright, almost searing, and the best like fireflies, a soft rise and fall. I was more than a little jealous of her being able to channel freely, but seeing as how my first channeling was throwing a spear of flame, and her was making a crystal light up, I was content in the knowledge I was much stronger.
When it came time for bed and I returned to my room, neither man had returned. I took to my bed and laid down, having regretfully forgotten a key event in Baerlon, in my tiredness, and jumbled memory.
The stone hallway was dim and shadowy, and empty except for me. I could not tell where the light came from, what little there was of it; the gray walls were bare of candles or lamps, nothing at all to account for the faint glow that seemed to just be there. The air was still and dank, and somewhere in the distance water dripped with a steady, hollow plonk. Wherever this was, it was not the inn. Frowning, I rubbed at my forehead. Inn? My head hurt, and thoughts were hard to hold on to. There had been something about… an inn? It was gone, whatever it was.
I licked my lips and wished I had something to drink. I was awfully thirsty, dry-as-dust thirsty. It was the dripping sound that decided me. With nothing to choose by except my thirst, I started toward that steady plonk—plonk—plonk.
The hallway stretched on, without any crossing corridor and without the slightest change in appearance. The only features at all were the rough doors set at regular intervals in pairs, one on either side of the hall, the wood splintered and dry despite the damp in the air. The shadows receded ahead of me, staying the same, and the dripping never came any closer. After a long time I decided to try one of those doors. It opened easily, and I stepped through into a grim, stone-walled chamber.
One wall opened in a series of arches onto a gray stone balcony, and beyond that was a sky such as I had never seen. Striated clouds in blacks and grays, reds and oranges, streamed by as if storm winds drove them, weaving and interweaving endlessly. No one could ever have seen a sky like that; it could not exist.
I pulled my eyes away from the balcony, but the rest of the room was no better. Odd curves and peculiar angles, as if the chamber had been melted almost haphazardly out of the stone, and columns that seemed to grow out of the gray floor. Flames roared on the hearth like a forge-fire with the bellows pumping, but gave no heat. Strange oval stones made the fireplace; they just looked like stones, wet-slick despite the fire, when I looked straight at them, but when I glimpsed them from the corner of my eye, they seemed to be faces instead, the faces of men and women writhing in anguish, screaming silently. The high-backed chairs and the polished table in the middle of the room were perfectly ordinary, but that in itself emphasized the rest. A single mirror hung on the wall, but that was not ordinary at all. When I looked at it I saw only a blur where my reflection should have been. It showed everything else in the room true, but not me.
A man stood in front of the fireplace. I had not noticed the man when I first came in. If I had not known it was impossible, I would have said no one had been there until I actually looked at the man. Dressed in dark clothes of a fine cut, he seemed in the prime of his maturity, and I supposed women would have found him good-looking.
"Once more we meet face-to-face," the man said and, just for an instant, his mouth and eyes became openings into endless caverns of flame.
With a yell I hurled myself backwards out of the room, so hard that I stumbled across the hall and banged into the door there, knocking it open. I twisted and grabbed at the doorhandle to keep from falling to the floor—and stared wide-eyed into a stone room with an impossible sky through the arches leading to a balcony, and a fireplace…
"You cannot get away from me that easily," the man said.
I twisted, scrambling back out of the room, trying to regain my feet without slowing down. This time there was no corridor. I froze half crouched near to the polished table, and looked at the man by the fireplace. It was better than looking at the fireplace stones, or at the sky.
"This is a dream," I said as he straightened. Behind me I heard the click of the door closing. "It's some kind of nightmare." I shut my eyes, thinking about waking up. Waking up. Waking… If only my thoughts would stop sliding away. If only my head would stop hurting, then I could think straight.
I opened my eyes again. The room was still as it had been, the balcony, the sky. The man by the fireplace.
"Is it a dream?" the man said. "Does it matter?" Once again, for a moment, his mouth and eyes became peepholes into a furnace that seemed to stretch forever. His voice did not change; he did not seem to notice it happening at all.
I jumped a little this time, but I managed to keep from yelling. This is a dream. It has to be. All the same, I stepped backwards all the way to the door, never taking my eyes off the fellow by the fire, and tried the handle. It did not move; the door was locked.
"You seem thirsty," the man by the fire said. "Drink."
On the table was a goblet, shining gold and ornamented with rubies and amethysts. It had not been there before. I wished I could stop jumping. It was only a dream. My mouth felt like dust.
"I am, a little," I said, picking up the goblet. The man leaned forward intently, one hand on the back of a chair, watching me. The smell of spiced wine drove home to me just how thirsty I was, as if I had had nothing to drink in days. Have I?
With the wine halfway to my mouth, I stopped. Whispers of smoke were rising from the chairback between the man's fingers. And those eyes watched me so sharply, flickering rapidly in and out of flames.
I licked my lips and put the wine back on the table, untasted. "I'm not as thirsty as I thought." The man straightened abruptly, his face without expression. His disappointment could not have been more plain if he had cursed. I wondered what was in the wine. But that was a stupid question, of course. This was all a dream. 'Then why won't it stop?' "What do you want?" he demanded. "Who are you?"
Flames rose in the man's eyes and mouth; Rand thought he could hear them roar. "Some call me Ba'alzamon."
I found myself facing the door, jerking frantically at the handle. All thought of dreams had vanished. A Forsaken! The handle would not budge.
"Are you the one?" Ba'alzamon said suddenly. "You cannot hide it from me forever. You cannot even hide yourself from me, not on the highest mountain or in the deepest cave. I know you down to the smallest hair."
I turned to face Ba'alzamon. I swallowed hard. I knew now where I was, even though the pain in my head tried to stop me from remembering. I was in a dream, in the World of Dreams, in Ba'alzamon's dream. I was trapped like a bug stuck in amber, until he let me go or I escaped. All I could do is try to defy him.
"Are you expecting glory?" Ba'alzamon said. "Power? Did they tell you the Eye of the World would serve you? What glory or power is there for a puppet? The strings that move you have been centuries weaving. The White Tower chose your father, like a stallion roped and led to his business. Your mother was no more than a brood mare to their plans. And those plans lead to your death."
I laughed at him, at his lies, loud and spiteful. "You know nothing, you are truly the Father of Lies. My father and mother are good people, not animals led by their nose. Try fooling someone else."
The flames frowned. "So there is some spirit in you. Perhaps you are the one. Little good it will do. The Amyrlin Seat will use you until they consume you, just as Davian was used, and Yurian Stonebow and Guiare Amalasan, and Raolin Darksbane. Just as Logain is being used. Used until there is nothing left of you."
I recognized those names, the names of False Dragons. I knew the lie he was spinning, and I laughed once more. "You truly know nothing at all. If anyone used those men, it was you! Ba'alzamon, Dark One, I name your trickster and liar and thief. You are bound in Shayol Ghul. You and all the Forsaken, bound by the Creator until the end of time." I could not let him know I knew who he truly was.
Rage flashed over the man's features, turning his face once more into a roaring furnace. "End of time? You are like a beetle living under a rock, thinking your slime is the universe. The death of time will bring me power such as you could not dream of, worm."
"You are bound—"
"Fool, I have never been bound!" The fires of his face roared so hot that I stepped back, sheltering behind my hands. The sweat on my palms dried from the heat. He began ranting. "I stood at Lews Therin Kinslayer's shoulder when he did the deed that named him. It was I who told him to kill his wife, and his children, and all his blood, and every living person who loved him or whom he loved. It was I who gave him the moment of sanity to know what he had done. Have you ever heard a man scream his soul away, worm? He could have struck at me, then. He could not have won, but he could have tried. Instead he called down his precious One Power upon himself, so much that the earth split open and reared up Dragonmount to mark his tomb."
"A thousand years later I sent the Trollocs ravening south, and for three centuries they savaged the world. Those blind fools in Tar Valon said I was beaten in the end, but the Second Covenant, the Covenant of the Ten Nations, was shattered beyond remaking, and who was left to oppose me then? I whispered in Artur Hawkwing's ear, and the length and breadth of the land Aes Sedai died. I whispered again, and the High King sent his armies across the Aryth Ocean, across the World Sea, and sealed two dooms. The doom of his dream of one land and one people, and a doom yet to come. At his deathbed I was there when his councilors told him only Aes Sedai could save his life. I spoke, and he ordered his councilors to the stake. I spoke, and the High King's last words were to cry that Tar Valon must be destroyed."
"When men such as these could not stand against me, what chance do you have, a toad crouching beside a forest puddle. You will serve me, or you will dance on Aes Sedai strings until you die. And then you will be mine. The dead belong to me!"
"Liar!" I shouted, and whatever composure Ba'alzamon had cracked.
"I DO NOT LIE," he screamed. "Do you think you are safe from me, in this dream? Look!" Ba'alzamon pointed commandingly, but I did not look.
The door opens to a maze, I thought to myself. I had to believe it with all my might.
"LOOK!" He shouted, and I flinched, and caught a glimpse of the table with the goblet gone, and a fat twitching rat in its place. I knew what he was going to do to the rat, do to me, so I turned, opening the door to a hedgerow maze under a sky threatening rain. The thorns cut me as I ran, and I ran, and I ran until I woke up, the shouts of Ba'alzamon behind me echoing in my ears.