Graendal followed him inside. The narrow room was lined with shelves. And on them were dozens perhaps hundreds of objects of Power. Darkness within! she thought. Where did he get so many?
Moridin walked to the end of the room, where he picked through objects on a shelf. Graendal entered, awed. "Is that a shocklance?" she asked, pointing to a long thin bit of metal. "Three binding rods? A rema'kar? Those pieces of a sho "
"It is unimportant," he said, selecting an item.
"If I could just "
"You are close to losing favor, Graendal," he said, turning and holding a long, spikelike piece of metal, silvery and topped with a large metal head set with golden inlay. "I have found only two of these. The other is being put to good use. You may use this one."
"A dreamspike?" she said, eyes opening wide. How badly she'd wanted to have one of these! "You found two?"
He tapped the top of the dreamspike and it vanished from his hand. "You will know where to find it?"
"Yes," she said, growing hungry. This was an object of great Power. Useful in so many different ways.
Moridin stepped forward, seizing her eyes with his own. "Graendal," he said softly, dangerously. "I know the key for this one. It will not be used against me, or others of the Chosen. The Great Lord will know if you do. Ido not wish your apparent habit to be indulged further, not until Aybara is dead."
"I . . . yes, of course." She felt cold, suddenly. How could she feel cold here? And while still sweating?
"Aybara can walk the World of Dreams," Moridin said. "I will lend you another tool, the man with two souls. But he is mine, just as that spike is mine. Just as you are mine. Do you understand?"
She nodded. She couldn't help herself. The room seemed to be growing darker. That voice of his . . . it sounded, just faintly, like that of the Great Lord.
"Let me tell you this, however," Moridin said, reaching forward with his right hand, cupping her chin. "If you do succeed, the Great Lord will be pleased. Very pleased. That which has been granted you in sparseness will be heaped upon you in glory."
She licked her dry lips. In front of her, Moridin's expression grew distant.
"Moridin?" she asked hesitantly.
He ignored her, releasing her chin and walking to the end of the room. From a table, he picked up a thick tome wrapped in pale tan skin. He flipped to a certain page and studied it for a moment. Then he waved for her to approach.
She did so, careful. When she read what was on the page, she found herself stunned.
Darkness within! "What is this book?" she finally managed to force out. "Where did these prophecies come from?"
"They have long been known to me," Moridin said softly, still studying the book. "But not to many others, not even the Chosen. The women and
men who spoke these were isolated and held alone. The Light must never know of these words. We know of their prophecies, but they will never know all of ours."
"But this . . ." she said, rereading the passage. "This says Aybara will die!"
"There can be many interpretations of any prophecy," Moridin said. "But yes. This Foretelling promises that Aybara will die by our hand. You will bring me the head of this wolf, Graendal. And when you do, anything you ask shall be yours." He slapped the book closed. "But mark me. Fail, and you will lose what you have gained. And much more."
He opened a portal for her with a wave of the hand; her faint ability to touch the True Power that hadn't been removed from her allowed her to see twisted weaves stab the air and rend it, ripping a hole in the fabric of the Pattern. The air shimmered there. It would lead back to her hidden cavern, she knew.
She went through without a word. She didn't trust her voice to speak without shaking.
CHAPTER 6
Questioning Intentions
Morgase Trakand, once Queen of Andor, served tea. She moved from person to person in the large pavilion Perrin had taken from Maiden. It had sides that could be rolled up and no tent
floor.
Large though the tent was, there was barely enough room for all who had wanted to attend the meeting. Perrin and Faile were there, of course, sitting on the ground. Next to them sat golden-eyed Elyas and Tarn al'Thor, the simple farmer with the broad shoulders and the calm manners. Was this man really the father of the Dragon Reborn? Of course, Morgase had seen Rand al'Thor once, and the boy hadn't looked much more than a farmer himself.
Beside Tarn sat Perrin's dusty secretary, Sebban Balwer. How much did Perrin know of his past? Jur Grady was there also, wearing his black coat with a silver sword pin on the collar. His leathery farmer's face was hollow-eyed and still pale from the sickness he'd suffered recently. Neald the other Asha'man was not there. He hadn't yet recovered from his snakebites.
All three Aes Sedai were there. Seonid and Masuri sat with the Wise Ones, and Annoura sat beside Berelain, occasionally shooting glances at the six Wise Ones. Gallenne sat on Berelain's other side. Across from them sat Alliandre and Arganda.
The officers made Morgase think of Gareth Bryne. She hadn't seen him in a long while, not since she'd exiled him for reasons she still couldn't quite explain. Very little about that time in her life made sense to her now. Had she really been so infatuated with a man that she'd banished Aemlyn and Ellorien?
Anyway, those days were gone. Now Morgase picked her way carefully through the room and saw that people's cups were kept full.
"Your work took longer than I'd expected," Perrin said.
"You gave us a duty to attend to, Perrin Aybara," Nevarin replied. "We accomplished it. It took us as much time as needed to do it correctly. Surely you don't imply that we did otherwise." The sandy-haired Wise One sat directly in front of Seonid and Masuri.
"Give over, Nevarin," Perrin grunted as he unrolled a map before him on the ground; it had been drawn by Balwer using instructions from the Ghealdanin. "I wasn't questioning you. I was asking if there were any problems in the burning."
"The village is gone," Nevarin said. "And every plant we found with a hint of Blight has been burned to ash. As well we did. You wetlanders would have much trouble dealing with something as deadly as the Blight."
"I think," Faile said, "that you would be surprised."
Morgase glanced at Faile, who locked eyes with the Wise One. Faile sat like a queen, once again dressed to her station in a fine dress of green and violet, pleated down the sides and divided for riding. Oddly, Faile's sense of leadership seemed to have been enhanced by her time spent with the Shaido.
Morgase and Faile had quickly gone back to being mistress and servant. In fact, Morgase's life here was strikingly similar to what it had been in the Shaido camp. True, some things were different; Morgase wasn't likely to be strapped here, for instance. That didn't change the fact that for a time she and the other four women had been equals. No longer.
Morgase stopped beside Lord Gallenne and refilled his cup, using the same skills she'd cultivated in attending Sevanna. At times, being a servant seemed to require more stealth than being a scout. She wasn't to be seen, wasn't to distract. Had her own servants acted this way around her?
"Well," Arganda said, "if anyone is wondering where we've gone, the smoke from that fire is an easy indicator."
"We're far too many people to think of hiding," Seonid said. Recently, she and Masuri had begun being allowed to speak without reprimand from the Wise Ones, though the Green did still glance at the Aiel women before speaking. It galled Morgase to see that. Sisters of the Tower, made appren-
tices to a bunch of wilders? It was said to have been done at Rand al'Thor's order, but how would any man even the Dragon Reborn be capable of such a thing?
It discomforted her that the two Aes Sedai no longer seemed to resist their station. A person's situation in life could change her dramatically. Gaebril, then Valda, had taught Morgase that lesson. The Aiel captivity had been merely another step in the process.
Each of these experiences had moved her farther away from the Queen she had been. Now she didn't
long for fine things or her throne. She just wanted some stability. That, it seemed, was a commodity more precious than gold.
"It doesn't matter," Perrin said, tapping the map. "So, we're decided? We chase after Gill and the others on foot for now, sending scouts by gateway to find them, if possible. Hopefully, we'll catch them before they reach Lugard. How long to the city would you say, Arganda?"
"Depends on the mud," the wiry soldier said. "There's a reason we call this time of year the swamping. Wise men don't travel during the spring melt."
"Wisdom is for those who have time for it," Perrin muttered, counting off distance on the map with his fingers.
Morgase moved to refill Annoura's cup. Pouring tea was more complicated than she'd ever assumed. She had to know whose cup to take aside and fill, and whose to fill while they were holding it. She had to know precisely how high to fill a cup so that it would not spill, and how to pour the tea without rattling the porcelain or splashing. She knew when to not be seen and when to make a slight production out of filling cups in case she'd missed people, forgotten them or misjudged their needs.
She carefully took Perrin's cup from beside him on the ground. He liked to gesture when he spoke, and could knock the cup from her hand if she was unwary. All in all, there was a remarkable art to serving tea an entire world that Morgase the Queen had never bothered to notice.
She refilled Perrin's cup and placed it back beside him. Perrin asked other questions about the map nearby towns, potential sources of resup-ply. He had a lot of promise as a leader, even if he was rather inexperienced. A little advice from Morgase -
She cut that thought off. Perrin Aybara was a rebel. The Two Rivers was part of Andor, and he'd named himself lord of it, flying that wolfhead banner. At least the flag of Manetheren had been taken down. Flying that had been nothing short of an open declaration of war.
Morgase no longer bristled every time someone named him a lord, but
she also didn't intend to offer him any help. Not until she determined how to move him back beneath the cloak of the Andoran monarchy.
Besides, Morgase grudgingly admitted, Faite is sharp enough to give any advice I would have.
Faile was actually a perfect complement to Perrin. Where he was a blunt and leveled lance at charge, she was a subtle cavalry bow. The combination of the two with Faile's connections to the Saldaean throne was what really worried Morgase. Yes, he'd taken down the Manetheren banner, but he'd ordered that wolfhead banner taken down before. Often, forbidding something was the best way to ensure that it happened.
Alliandre's cup was half empty. Morgase moved over to refill it; like many highborn ladies, Alliandre always expected her cup to be full. Alliandre glanced at Morgase, and there was a faint glimmer of discomfort in those eyes. Alliandre felt uncertain what their relationship should be. That was curious, as Alliandre had been so haughty during their captivity. The person Morgase had once been, the Queen, wanted to sit Alliandre down and give a lengthy explanation of how to better maintain her grandeur.
She'd have to learn on her own. Morgase was no longer the person she had once been. She wasn't sure what she was, but she would learn how to do her duty as a lady's maid. This was becoming a passion for her. A way to prove to herself that she was still strong, still of value.
In a way, it was terrifying that she worried about that.
"Lord Perrin," Alliandre said as Morgase moved away. "Is it true that you're planning on sending my people back to Jehannah after you find Gill and his group?"
Morgase continued past Masuri the Aes Sedai liked her cup refilled only when she tapped on it lightly with her fingernail.
"I do," Perrin replied. "We all know it wasn't completely your will to join us in the first place. If we hadn't brought you along, you'd never have been captured by the Shaido. Masema is dead. Time to let you return to governing your nation."
"With all due respect, my Lord," Alliandre said. "Why are you recruiting from among my countrymen if not to gather an army for future use?"
"I'm not trying to recruit," Perrin said. "Just because I don't turn them away doesn't mean I intend to enlarge this army any further."
"My Lord," Alliandre said. "But surely it is wise to keep what you have."
"She has a point, Perrin," Berelain added softly. "One need only look at the sky to know the Last Battle is imminent. Why send her force back? I'm certain that the Lord Dragon will have need of every soldier from every land sworn to him."
"He can send for them when he decides to," Perrin said stubbornly.
"My Lord," Alliandre said. "I did not swear to him. I swore to you. If Ghealdan will march for Tarmon Gai'don, it should do so beneath your banner."
Perrin stood up, startling several people in the tent. Was he leaving? He walked to the open side of the tent without a word, poking his head out. "Wil, come here," he called.
A weave of the One Power kept people outside from listening in. Morgase could see Masuri's weaves, tied off and warding the tent. Their intricacy seemed to mock her own minuscule talent.
Masuri tapped the side of her cup, and Morgase hastened to refill it. The woman liked to sip tea when nervous.
Perrin turned back into the tent, followed by a handsome youth carrying a cloth-wrapped bundle.
"Unfurl it," Perrin said.
The young man did so, looking apprehensive. It bore the wolfhead emblem that was Perrin's sigil.
"I didn't make this banner," Perrin said. "I never wanted it, but upon advice I let it fly. Well, the reasons for doing that are past. I'd order the thing taken down, but that never seems to work for long." He looked to Wil. "Wil, I want it passed through camp. I'm giving a direct order. I want each and every copy of this blasted banner burned. You understand?"
Wil paled. "But "
"Do it," Perrin said. "Alliandre, you'll swear to Rand as soon as we find him. You won't ride beneath my banner, because I won't have a banner. I'm a blacksmith, and that's the end of it. I've stomached this foolishness for too long."
"Perrin?" Faile asked. She looked surprised. "Is this wise?"
Fool man. He should have at least talked to his wife about this. But men would be men. They liked their secrets and their plans.
"I don't know if it's wise. But it what I'm doing," he said, sitting down. "Be off, Wil. I want those banners burned by tonight. No holdouts, you understand?"
Wil stiffened, then spun and strode from the tent without giving a reply. The lad looked as if he felt betrayed. Oddly, Morgase found herself feeling a little of the same. It was foolish. This was what she wanted it was what Perrin should do. And yet, the people were frightened, with good reason. That sky, the things that were happening in the world . . . Well, in a time like this, perhaps a man could be excused for taking command.
"You are a fool, Perrin Aybara," Masuri said. She had a blunt way about her.
"Son," Tam addressed Perrin, "the lads put a lot of stock in that banner."
"Too much," Perrin said.
"Perhaps. But it's good to have something to look to. When you took down the other banner, it was hard on them. This will be worse."
"It needs to be done," Perrin said. "The Two Rivers men have gotten too attached to it, started talking like they're going to stay with me instead of going back to their families where they belong. When we get gateways working again, Tam, you'll be taking them and going." He looked at Berelain. "I suppose I can't be rid of you and your men. You'll go back with me to Rand."
"I wasn't aware," Berelain said stiffly, "that you needed to 'be rid' of us. You seemed far less reluctant to accept my support when demanding the services of my Winged Guardsmen in rescuing your wife."
Perrin took a deep breath. "I appreciate your help, all of you. We did a good thing in Maiden, and not just for Faile and Alliandre. It was a thing that needed doing. But burn me, that's over now. If you want to go on to follow Rand, I'm sure he'll have you. But my Asha'man are exhausted, and the tasks I was given are complete. I've got these hooks inside of
me, pulling me back to Rand. Before I can do that, I need to be done with all of you."
"Husband," Faile said, her words clipped. "Might I suggest that we begin with the ones who want to be sent away?"
"Yes," Aravine said. The former gai'shain sat near the back of the tent, easy to overlook, though she had become an important force in Perrin's camp administration. She acted as something of an unofficial steward for him. "Some of the refugees would be happy to return to their homes."
"I'd rather move everyone, if I can," Perrin said. "Grady?"
The Asha'man shrugged his shoulders. "The gateways I've made for scouts haven't taxed me too much, and I think I could make some larger ones. I'm still a little weak, but I am mostly over the sickness. Neald will need more time, though."
"My Lord." Balwer coughed softly. "I have some figures of curious note. Moving as many people as you now have through gateways will take hours, maybe days. It won't be a quick endeavor, as when we approached Maiden."
"That's going to be rough, my Lord," Grady said. "I don't think I could hold one open such a long time. Not if you want me strong enough to be in fighting shape, just in case."
Perrin settled back down, inspecting the map again. Berelain's cup was
empty; Morgase hurried over to fill it. "All right, then," Perrin said. "We'll start sending some smaller groups of refugees away, but those who want to leave first."
"Also," Faile said. "Perhaps it is time to send messengers to contact the Lord Dragon; he might be willing to send more Asha'man." Perrin nodded. "Yes."
"Last we knew," Seonid said, "he was in Cairhien. The largest number of the refugees are from there, so we could begin by sending some of them home, along with scouts to meet with the Lord Dragon."
"He's not there," Perrin said.
"How do you know?" Edarra set down her cup. Morgase crept around the perimeter of the tent and snatched it for refilling. Eldest of the Wise Ones, and perhaps foremost among them it was hard to tell with Wise Ones Edarra looked strikingly young for her reported age. Morgase's own tiny ability in the One Power was enough to tell her that this woman was strong. Probably the strongest in the room.
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