A Crown of Swords twot-7 Page 11

  "Some can do things others cannot," Nandera said, as if that was enough explanation.

  Min laughed again and reached out to touch the Maiden's knee. "Thank you." Settling her feet beneath her, she looked up at Rand. Now that she was laughing again, she seemed radiant. That held even after she became serious. Serious, and not very pleased. "As for your question, nothing of any use. Taim has blood in his past and blood in his future, but you could guess that. He's a dangerous man. They seem to be gathering images like Aes Sedai." A sidelong look through lowered eyelashes at Dashiva and the other Asha'man said who she meant. Most people had few images around them, but Min said Aes Sedai and Warders always did. "The problem is, what I can see is all blurry. I think it's because they're holding the Power. That often seems true with Aes Sedai, and it's worse when they're actually channeling. Kiruna and that lot have all sorts of things around them, but they stay so close together that it all… well… jumbles together most of the time. It's even muddier with the prisoners."

  "Never mind the prisoners," Rand told her. "That's what they'll stay."

  "But Rand, I keep feeling there is something important, if I could only pick it out. You need to know."

  "'If you don't know everything, you must go on with what you do know,'" Rand quoted wryly. "It seems I never do know everything. Hardly enough, most of the time. But there's no choice but to go on, is there." That was not at all a question.

  Loial strode up, bubbling with energy despite his obvious weariness. "Rand, they say they're ready to go, but you promised to talk to me while it's fresh." Abruptly his ears twitched with embarrassment, and that booming voice became plaintive. "I am sorry; I know it can't be enjoyable. But I must know. For the book. For the Ages."

  Laughing, Rand got to his feet and tugged at the Ogier's open coat. "For the Ages? Do writers all talk like that? Don't worry, Loial. It will still be fresh when I tell you. I won't forget." A grim, sour scent flashed from him despite the smile, and was gone. "But back in Cairhien, after we all have a bath and sleep in a bed." Rand motioned for Dashiva to come closer.

  The man was not skinny, yet he moved in a hesitant, creeping way, hands folded at his waist, that made him seem so. "My Lord Dragon?" he said, tilting his head.

  "Can you make a gateway, Dashiva?"

  "Of course." Dashiva began dry-washing his hands, flicking at his lips with the tip of his tongue, and Perrin wondered whether the man was always this jittery, or just when speaking to the Dragon Reborn. "That is to say, the M'hael teaches Traveling as soon as a student shows himself strong enough."

  "The M'Hael?" Rand said, blinking.

  "The Lord Mazrim Taim's title, my Lord Dragon. It means 'leader.' In the Old Tongue." The fellow's smile managed to be nervous and patronizing at the same time. "I read a great deal on the farm. Every book the peddlers brought by."

  "The M'Hael," Rand muttered disapprovingly. "Well, be that as it may. Make me a gateway to near Cairhien, Dashiva. It's time to see what the world has been up to while I was away, and what I have to do about it." He laughed then, in a rueful way, but the sound of it made Perrin's skin prickle.

  Chapter 3

  (Flame of Tar Valon)

  Hill of the Golden Dawn

  On a wide low hilltop some miles north and east of the city of Cairhien; well away from any road or human habitation, a thin vertical slash of pure light appeared, taller than a man on a horse. The ground sloped away in every direction, undulating gently; nothing more than occasional brush obscured the view for more than a mile, all the way to the surrounding forest. Brown grass fell as the light seemed to rotate, widening into a square opening in midair. A number of the dead stems were slit lengthwise, sliced finer than any razor could have. By a hole in the air.

  The instant the gateway was fully open, veiled Aiel poured out, men and Maidens, spreading in every direction to encircle the hill. Almost hidden in the torrent, four sharp-eyed Asha'man took up positions around the gateway itself, peering toward the encircling woodland. Nothing stirred except with the wind, dust, tall grass and branches in the distance, yet each Asha'man studied the vista with the fervor of a starving hawk searching for a rabbit. A rabbit watching for a hawk might have been as intent, but never with that air of menace.

  There was really no break in the flow. One moment it was a flood of Aiel, the next, mounted Cairhienin armsmen galloping out two by two, the crimson Banner of Light going up at their head as soon as it cleared the gateway. Without a pause Dobraine drew his men aside and began forming them up a little down the slope, helmeted and gauntleted in precise ranks, lances raised to the same angle. Seasoned campaigners, they were ready to wheel and charge in any direction at his gesture.

  On the heels of the last Cairhienin, Perrin rode Stepper through, the dun passing in one stride from the hill below Dumai's Wells to the hill in Cairhien, and ducked in spite of himself. The upper edge of the thing stood well above his head, but he had seen the damage a gateway could do and had no wish to test whether they were safer standing still. Loial and Aram followed close behind — the Ogier, afoot with his long-hafted axe on his shoulder, bent his knees — and then the Two Rivers men, crouching on their saddles well beyond the gateway. Rad al'Dai carried the Red Wolfhead banner, Perrin's because everyone said it was, and Tell Lewin the Red Eagle.

  Perrin tried not to look at those, especially the Red Eagle. The Two Rivers men wanted things both ways. He was a lord, so he had to have banners. He was a lord, but when he told them to get rid of those bloody banners, they never vanished for long. The Red Wolfhead named him something he was not and did not want to be, while the Red Eagle… More than two thousand years after Manetheren died in the Trolloc Wars, close to a thousand after Andor swallowed part of what once had been Manetheren, that banner was still as good as an act of rebellion for an Andorman. Legends still walked in some men's minds. Of course it had been a few generations since Two Rivers folk had had any notion that they were Andormen, but Queens' minds did not change so easily.

  He had met the new Queen of Andor what seemed a long time ago, in the Stone of Tear. She had not been Queen then — and was not yet, really, until she was crowned in Caemlyn — but Elayne seemed a pleasant young woman, and pretty, though he was not partial to fair-haired women. A bit taken with herself, of course, as Daughter-Heir. Taken with Rand, too, if snuggling in corners meant anything. Rand meant to give her not only the Lion Throne of Andor, but the Sun Throne of Cairhien. Surely she would be grateful enough to let the flying of a flag pass when it did not really mean anything. Watching the Two Rivers men deploy behind those banners, Perrin shook his head. It was a worry for another day, in any case.

  There was nothing like armsmen's precision in the Two Rivers men, most boys like Tod, farmers' sons and shepherds, yet they knew what to do. Every fifth man took the reins of four more horses while the other riders hurriedly dismounted, longbows already strung and in hand. Those on the ground straggled together in rough lines, looking around with more interest than anything else, but they checked their quivers with practiced gestures and handled their bows with familiarity, the great Two Rivers bows, even when strung nearly as tall as the men who drew them. With those bows, not a man of them but could shoot farther than anyone outside the Two Rivers would believe. And hit what he aimed at.

  Perrin hoped there would be none of that today. Sometimes he dreamed of a world where there never was. And Rand…

  "Do you believe my enemies have been asleep while I was… away?" Rand had said suddenly as they stood waiting for Dashiva to open the gateway. He had on a coat rooted out of the wagons, well-cut green wool, but hardly what he usually wore now. Short of taking the coat off a Warder's back or a cadin'sor from an Aielman, it was the only garment in the camp to fit him. Truth, you would have thought he insisted on silk and fine embroidery, the way he had had those wagons searched top to bottom, yesterday and this morning.

  The wagons stretched out in line, teams hitched, canvas covers and iron hoops taken down. Kiruna and the
rest of the sworn sisters sat packed into the lead wagon, and not happy. They had ceased their protests as soon as they saw that protesting did no good, but Perrin could still hear coldly angry mutters. At least they rode. Their Warders surrounded the wagon afoot, silent and stony, while the Aes Sedai prisoners stood in a rigid, sullen cluster ringed by every Wise One who was hot with Rand, which was to say all but Sorilea and Amys. The prisoners' Warders glowered in another clump a hundred paces off, cold death waiting despite their injuries and siswai'aman guards. Except for Kiruna's big black, its reins held by Rand, and a mouse-colored mare with fine ankles for Min, the Aes Sedai's and Warders' horses not assigned to Asha'man — or used to fill out wagon teams; that had caused a commotion worse than making their owners walk! — were all tied to long lead lines fastened to the wagons' tailgates.

  "Do you believe it, Flinn? Grady?"

  One of the Asha'man waiting to go through first, the stocky fellow with a farmer's face, looked at Rand uncertainly, then at the leathery old man with the limp. Each wore a silver-sword pin on his collar, but not the Dragon. "Only a fool thinks his enemies stand still when he isn't looking, my Lord Dragon," the old man said in a gruff voice. He sounded like a soldier.

  "What about you, Dashiva?"

  Dashiva gave a start, surprised to be addressed. "I… grew up on a farm." He tugged his sword belt straight, which it did not need. Supposedly they trained with the swords as much as with the Power, but Dashiva did not seem to know one end from the other. "I don't know much about having enemies." Despite his awkwardness, there was a kind of insolence to him. But then, the whole lot seemed weaned on arrogance.

  "If you stay near me," Rand said softly, "you will." His smile made Perrin shiver. He smiled while he gave orders to go through the gateway as though they would be attacked on the other side. There were enemies everywhere, he told them. Always remember that. There were enemies everywhere, and you never knew who.

  The exodus continued unabated. Wagons rumbled from Dumai's Wells to Cairhien, the sisters in the first like statues of ice being lurched about. Their Warders trotted alongside, hands gripping sword hilts and eyes never resting on one spot; clearly they thought their Aes Sedai needed protection as much from those already on the hill as from anyone who might appear. The Wise Ones marched through herding their charges; a number used sticks to prod the Aes Sedai along, though the sisters made a good job pretending there were neither Wise Ones nor prods. The Shaido gai'shain came, trotting in a column four wide under the gaze of a single Maiden; she pointed to a place out of the way before darting to join the other Far Dareis Mai, and the gai'shain knelt there in lines, naked as jaybirds and proud as eagles. The remaining Warders followed under their guard, radiating a massed fury that Perrin could smell over everything else, then Rhuarc with the rest of the siswai'aman and Maidens, and four more Asha'man, each leading a second horse for one of the first four, and Nurelle and his Winged Guards with their red-streamered lances.

  The Mayeners were puffed up over being the rear guard, laughing and shouting boasts to the Cairhienin of what they would have done had the Shaido returned, though in fact they were not last. Last of all came Rand on Kiruna's gelding, and Min on her mare. Sorilea and Amys strode along to one side of the tall black horse, Nandera and half a dozen Maidens to the other, and Dashiva led a placid-looking bay mare at their heels. The gateway winked out, and Dashiva blinked at where it had been, smiling faintly, then scrambled clumsily into the mare's saddle. He seemed to be talking to himself, but it was probably because his sword tangled in his legs and he nearly fell. Surely he was not mad already.

  An army covered the hill, all arrayed for an attack that plainly was not coming. A small army, only a few thousand, though it would have seemed fair-sized before the Aiel brought their numbers across the Dragonwall. Guiding his horse slowly toward Perrin, Rand scanned the countryside. The two Wise Ones followed closely, talking softly and watching him; Nandera and the Maidens followed, watching everything else. Had Rand been a wolf, Perrin would have said he was testing the air. He carried the Dragon Scepter across his high saddlebow, a two-foot length of spearhead decorated with a green-and-white tassel and carved with Dragons, and now and then he weighed it lightly in his hand as if to remind himself of it.

  When Rand reined in, he studied Perrin as intently as he had the surrounding country. "I trust you," he said finally, nodding. Min stirred in her saddle, and he added, "And you, Min, of course. And you, too, Loial." The Ogier shifted uncertainly, with a hesitant glance for Perrin. Rand looked around the hillside, at the Aiel and the Asha'man and all the rest. "So few I can trust," he whispered tiredly. His scent was jumbled enough for two men, anger and fear, determination and despair. And woven through it all, weariness.

  Be sane, Perrin wanted to tell him. Hold on. A wash of guilt held his tongue, though. Because it was the Dragon Reborn he wanted to say it to, not his friend since childhood. He wanted his friend to stay sane; the Dragon Reborn had to stay sane.

  "My Lord Dragon," one of the Asha'man called abruptly. He looked little more than a boy, with dark eyes as big as any girl's and neither sword nor Dragon on his collar, but pride in his bearing. Narishma, Perrin had heard him called. "To the southwest."

  A figure had appeared, running out from the trees a mile or more away, a woman with skirts hiked to her thighs. To Perrin's eyes she was clearly Aiel. A Wise One, he thought, though there was no real way to tell at sight. He was just certain. The sight of her brought back all his edginess. Somebody out here, just where they happened to come out of the gateway, could not be good news. The Shaido had been troubling Cairhien again when he set off after Rand, but to the Aiel, a Wise One was a Wise One, whatever her clan. They visited like neighbors over for tea while their clans killed one another. Two Aiel trying to kill each other would step back to let a Wise One pass between. Maybe yesterday had changed that and maybe not. He exhaled wearily. At best she could not be good news.

  Nearly everyone on the hill seemed to feel the same. Ripples of motion ran everywhere, spears hefted, arrows nocked. Cairhienin and Mayeners shifted in their saddles, and Aram drew his sword, eyes shining with anticipation. Loial leaned on his tall axe and fingered the edge regretfully. The head was shaped like that of a huge wood-axe, but engraved with leaves and scrolls and inlaid with gold. The inlay was a trifle scuffed from the axe's late use. If he had to use it again, he would, but with as much reluctance as Perrin used his and for many of the same reasons.

  Rand simply sat his horse and watched, face unreadable. Min edged her mare close enough to stroke his shoulder like someone trying to soothe a mastiff with its hackles up.

  The Wise Ones also gave no sign of disturbance, but neither did they stay still. Sorilea gestured, and a dozen of the women guarding the Aes Sedai broke off to join her and Amys, well away from Rand and out of even Perrin's hearing. Few had any gray in their hair, and Sorilea's was the only lined face, but then, there was hardly a gray hair to be seen on any of the Wise Ones here. The fact was, not many Aiel lived to have much gray hair. These women had position, though, or influence, however Wise Ones decided such things. Perrin had seen Sorilea and Amys confer with the same lot before, though confer was not quite the word. Sorilea spoke, with an occasional word from Amys, and the others listened. Edarra raised a protest, but Sorilea smothered it, apparently without breaking stride, then pointed out two of their number, Sotarin and Cosain. Immediately, they gathered their skirts over their arms and sped off toward the newcomer, legs flashing.

  Perrin patted Stepper's neck. No more killing. Not yet.

  The three Wise Ones met nearly half a mile from the hill and stopped. They spoke, just for a moment, and then all came on at a run, back to the hill. And straight to Sorilea. The newcomer, a youngish, long-nosed woman with a mass of incredibly red hair, spoke hurriedly. Sorilea's face grew stonier by the word. Finally the red-haired woman finished — or rather Sorilea cut her short with a few words — and the lot turned to face Rand. None made a move toward hi
m, though. They waited, hands folded at their waists and shawls looped over their arms, inscrutable as any Aes Sedai,

  "The Car'a'carn," Rand muttered dryly under his breath. Swinging a leg over, he slid from his saddle, then helped Min to the ground.

  Perrin climbed down too, and led Stepper after them to the Wise Ones. Loial trailed along, and Aram followed on his horse, not dismounting until Perrin motioned him to. Aiel did not ride, not unless it was absolutely necessary anyway, and they considered it rude for anyone to face them from horseback. Rhuarc joined them, and Gaul, who wore a scowl for some reason. It went without saying that Nandera and Sulin and the Maidens came too.

  The red-haired newcomer began as soon as Rand drew near. "Bair and Megana set watches every way you might possibly come back to the treekillers' city, Car'a'carn, but in truth, no one thought this would be —"

  "Feraighin," Sorilea said, sharply enough to draw blood. The red-haired woman's teeth clicked as she snapped her mouth shut, and she stared fixedly at Rand with brilliant blue eyes, avoiding Sorilea's glare.

  Finally Sorilea took a breath and turned her attention to Rand. "There is trouble in the tents," she said in a flat voice. "Rumors began among the treekillers that you have gone to the White Tower with the Aes Sedai who came, gone to bend knee to the Amyrlin Seat. None who know the truth dared speak, or the result would have been worse."

  "And what is the result?" Rand asked quietly. He exuded tension, and Min began stroking his shoulder again.

  "Many believe you have abandoned the Aiel," Amys told him just as quietly. "The bleakness has returned. Every day a thousand or more throw down their spears and vanish, unable to face our future, or our past. Some may be going to the Shaido." For a moment disgust tinged her voice. "There have been whispers that the true Car'a'carn would not give himself to the Aes Sedai. Indirian says if you have gone to the White Tower, it cannot be willingly. He is ready to take the Codarra north, to Tar Valon, and dance the spears with any Aes Sedai he finds. Or any wetlander; he says you mast have been betrayed. Timolan mutters that if the tales are true, you have betrayed us, and he will take the Miagoma back to the Three-fold Land. After he sees you dead. Mandelain and Janwin hold their counsel, but they listen to Indirian and Timolan both." Rhuarc grimaced, sucking air between his teeth; for an Aiel, that was as much as tearing his hair in despair.