Perrin held his eyes, stepping forward as if in challenge. That was enough of a distraction for the wolves to attack from behind.
Slayer yelled, spinning as Boundless slammed into him. Perrin was there in an eyeblink, bringing his hammer down. Slayer vanished, and Perrin struck only earth, but he caught a whiff of where Slayer had gone.
Here? That scent was of the same place that Perrin was. Alarmed, he looked up to see Slayer hovering in the air just above, drawing an arrow.
The wind, Perrin thought. It is so strong!
The arrow loosed, but a sudden gust blew it sideways. It sank into the earth just beside Perrin. He did not flinch, raising his hands, his own bow appearing in them. Already drawn, arrow in place.
Slayer's eyes opened wider as Perrin loosed. Slayer vanished, appearing on the ground a short distance away—and Hopper leaped on him from above, pulling him to the ground. Slayer cursed with a guttural sound, then vanished.
Here, Hopper sent, showing a hillside.
Perrin was there in an instant, hammer in his hands, the pack with him. Slayer raised a sword in one hand and a knife in the other as Perrin and the four wolves attacked.
Perrin hit first, swinging his hammer with a roar. Slayer actually sank
into the ground, as if it were liquid, dropping beneath the axe blow. He rammed his knife forward—piercing Oak Dancer's breast with a splash of
scarlet blood as he swung to the side, slashing across Sparks' face. Oak Dancer didn't get time to howl; she collapsed to the ground, and Slayer vanished as Perrin brought his hammer back around. Whimpering, Sparks sent agony and panic and vanished. He would live. But Oak Dancer was dead.
Slayer's scent had been this place again. Perrin turned to smash his hammer into Slayer's sword as it sought to pierce him from behind. Again a look of surprise from Slayer. The man bared his teeth, pulling back, keeping a wary eye on the two remaining wolves, Hopper and Boundless. Slayer's forearm was bleeding where Hopper had bitten him.
"How is the dome created, Luc?" Perrin said. "Show me and leave. I will let you depart."
"Bold words, cub," Slayer snarled back. "For one who just watched me kill one of your pack."
Boundless howled in anger, leaping forward. Perrin attacked at the same time, but the ground beneath them trembled, shaking.
No, Perrin thought. His own footing became firm as Boundless was knocked to the ground.
Slayer lunged, and Penin raised his hammer to block—but Slayer's weapon turned into smoke and passed right through it, solidifying on the other side. With a yelp, Perrin tried to pull back, but the blade scored him across the chest, cutting through his shirt and leaving a gash from one arm to the other. It flared with pain.
Perrin gasped, stumbling backward. Slayer drove forward, but something crashed into him from above. Hopper. Once again the grizzled wolf bore Slayer to the ground, growling, fangs flashing.
Slayer cursed and kicked the wolf free. Hopper went flying with a whimper of pain, tossed some twenty feet. To the side, Boundless had caused the earth to stop rumbling, but had hurt his paw.
Perrin shook himself free of his pain. Slayer was strong in control over this world. Perrin's hammer felt sluggish whenever he swung, as if the air itself were thicker.
Slayer had smiled when he'd killed Oak Dancer. Perrin moved forward, enraged. Slayer was on his het and retreating back down the hillside, toward the trees. Perrin chased after him, ignoring his wound. It wasn't bad enough to stop him, though he did imagine a bandage in place on it, his clothing mended and tight against his chest to stanch the blood.
He entered the trees just behind Slayer. The branches closed overhead,
and vines whipped from the darkened shadows. Perrin didn't bother fighting them off. Vines didn't move like that. They couldn't touch him. Sure enough, as soon as they grew close, they withered and fell still.
Slayer cursed, then began to move in bursting steps, leaving a blur behind him. Perrin followed, enhancing his own speed.
Perrin didn't consciously make the decision to drop to four legs, but in a heartbeat he had done so, chasing after Slayer as he'd hunted the white stag.
Slayer was fast, but he was merely a man. Young Bull was part of the land itself, the trees, the brush, the stones, the rivers. He moved through the forest like a breeze blowing through a hollow, keeping pace with Slayer gaining on him. Each log in Slayer's way was an obstruction, but to Young Bull each was just a part of the pathway.
Young Bull leaped to the side, paws against the tree trunks pushing him when he turned. He soared, over stones and rocks, leaping from one to the next, leaving a blur in the air behind him.
Slayer smelled afraid for the first time. He vanished, but Young Bull followed, appearing in the field where the army camped, beneath the shadow of the large stone sword. Slayer looked over his shoulder and cursed, vanishing again.
Young Bull followed. The place where the Whitecloaks had made camp.
The top of a small plateau.
A cavern burrowed into a hillside.
The middle of a small lake. Young Bull ran upon the surface with ease.
Each place Slayer went, he followed, each moment growing closer. There was no time for swords, hammers, or bows. This was a chase, and Young Bull was the hunter this time. He—
He leaped into the middle of a field, and Slayer wasn't there. He smelled where the man had gone, however. He followed him, and appeared in another place on the same field. There were scents of places all around. What?
Perrin came to a stop, booted feet grinding into the ground. He spun, bewildered. Slayer must have hopped quickly through several different places in the same field, confusing his trail. Perrin tried to determine which one to follow, but they all faded and intermixed.
"Burn him!" he said.
Young Bull, a sending came. Sparks. The wolf had been wounded, but he hadn't fled as Perrin had assumed. He sent an image of a thin silver rod, two handspans high, sprouting from the ground in the middle of a stand of dogfennel.
Perrin smiled and sent himself there. The wounded wolf, still trailing blood, lay beside the object. It was obviously some sort of ter'angreal. it
ppeared to be made of dozens upon dozens of fine, wirelike bits of metal woven together like a braid. It was about two handspans long, and was driven point first into the soft earth.
Perrin pulled it from the ground. The dome didn't vanish. He turned the spike over in his hand, but had no idea how to make the dome stop. He willed the spike to change into something else, a stick, and was shocked when he was rebuffed. The object actually seemed to push his mind away.
It is here in its reality, Sparks sent. The sending tried to convey something, that the item was somehow more real than most things in the dream world.
Perrin didn't have time to wonder about it. First priority was to move the dome, if he could, away from where his people camped. He sent himself to the edge where he'd entered the dome.
As he'd hoped, the center of the dome moved with him. He was at the place where he'd entered, but the edge of the dome had changed positions, the center falling wherever Perrin was standing. The dome still dominated the sky, extending far in every direction.
Young Bull, Sparks sent. I am free. The wrongness is gone.
Go, Perrin sent. I'll take this and get rid of it. Each of you, go a different direction and howl. Confuse Slayer.
The wolves responded. A part of Perrin, the hunter inside of him, was frustrated at not having been able to defeat Slayer directly. But this was more important.
He tried to shift to someplace distant, but it didn't work. It appeared that even though he was holding the ter'angreal, he was still bound by the dome's rules.
So, instead, he shifted as far as he could. Neald had said it was about four leagues from their camp to the perimeter, so Perrin shifted that far to the north, then did so again, and again. The enormous dome moved with him, its center always appearing directly over his head.
He would take t
he spike someplace safe, someplace where Slayer couldn't find it.
CHAPTER
36
An Invitation
Egwene appeared in Tel'aran'rhiod wearing a pure white gown sewn with golden thread at the seams and in the embroidery, tiny bits of obsidian—polished but unshaped—sewn in gold along the trim of the bodice. A terribly impractical dress to own, but that didn't matter here.
She was in her chambers, where she'd wanted to appear. She sent herself to the hallway outside the Yellow Ajah's quarters. Nynaeve was there, arms folded, her dress a far more sensible tan and brown.
"I want you to be very careful," Egwene said. "You're the only one here who has faced one of the Forsaken directly, and you also have more experience with Tel'aran'rhiod than the others. If Mesaana arrives, you are to lead the attack."
"I think I can manage that," Nynaeve said, the corners of her mouth rising. Yes, she could manage it. Holding Nynaeve back from attacking, that would have been the difficult task.
Egwene nodded, and Nynaeve vanished. She'd remain hidden near the Hall of the Tower, watching for Mesaana or Black sisters coming to spy on the decoy meeting happening there. Egwene sent herself to another place in the city, a hall where the true meeting would take place between herself, the Wise Ones and the Windfinders.
Tar Valon had several meeting halls used for musical performances or for gatherings. This one, known as the Musician's Way, was perfect for her
needs. It was precisely decorated with leatherleaf wood paneling carved to look like a forest of trees lining the walls. The chairs were of a matching wood, sung by Ogier, each one a thing of beauty. They were arranged in the round, facing a central podium. The domed ceiling was inset with marble carved to look like stars in the sky. The ornamentation was remarkable; beautiful without being gaudy.
The Wise Ones had already arrived—Amys, Bair and Melaine, whose belly was great with the later stages of pregnancy. This amphitheater had a raised platform along one side where the Wise Ones could sit comfortably on the floor, yet those seated in the chairs would not look down at them.
Leane, Yukiri and Seaine sat in chairs facing the Wise Ones, each wearing one of Elayne's copied dream ter'angreal, looking shadowy and insubstantial. Elayne was supposed to be there, too, but she had warned she might have trouble channeling enough to enter Tel'aran'rhiod.
The Aes Sedai and Wise Ones inspected one another with a nearly palpable air of hostility. The Aes Sedai considered the Wise Ones to be poorly trained wilders; the Wise Ones, in turn, thought the Aes Sedai full of themselves.
As Egwene arrived, a group of women with dark skin and black hair appeared in the very center of the room. The Windhnders glanced about suspiciously. Siuan had said, from her time teaching them, that the Sea Folk had legends about Tel'aran'rhiod and its dangers. That hadn't stopped the Windhnders from learning everything they could about the World of Dreams the moment they discovered that it was real.
At the head of the Windhnders was a tall, slender woman with narrow eyes and a long neck, numerous medallions on the fine chain connecting her nose to her left ear. That would be Shielyn, one of those Nynaeve had told Egwene about. The three other Windfinders included a dignified woman with white locks of hair woven among her black. That would be Renaile, according to the letters they'd sent and Nynaeve's instruction. Egwene had been led to believe she'd be foremost among them, but she seemed subservient to the others. Had she lost her place as Windfinder to the Mistress of the Ships?
"Welcome," Egwene said to them. "Please, sit." We will stand," Shielyn said. Her voice was tense.
'Who are these ones, Egwene al'Vere?" Amys asked. "Children should not be visiting Tel'aran'rhiod. It is not an abandoned sand-badger's den to be explored."
"Children?" Shielyn asked.
"You are children here, wetlander."
"Amys, please," Egwene cut in. "I lent them ter'angreal to come here. It was necessary."
"We could have met outside the World of Dreams," Bair said. "Choosing the middle of a battlefield might have been safer."
Indeed, the Windfinders were very unfamiliar with the workings of Tel'aran'rhiod. Their bright clothing periodically changed colors—in fact, as Egwene watched, Renaile's blouse vanished entirely. Egwene found herself blushing, though Elayne had mentioned that when on the waves, Sea Folk men and women both worked wearing not a stitch above the waist The blouse was back a moment later. Their jewelry also seemed in almost constant flux.
"There are reasons I have done what I have done, Amys," Egwene said striding forward and seating herself. "Shielyn din Sabura Night Waters and her sisters have been told of the dangers of this place, and have accepted responsibility for their own safety."
"A little like giving a firebrand and a cask of oil to a child," Melaine muttered, "and claiming you've given him responsibility for his own safety."
"Must we endure this squabbling, Mother?" Yukiri asked.
Egwene took a calming breath. "Please, you are leaders of your separate peoples, women with reputations for great wisdom and acuity. Can we not at least be civil with one another?" Egwene turned to the Sea Folk. "Wind-finder Shielyn, you have accepted my invitation. Surely you will now not reject my hospitality by standing through the entire meeting?"
The woman hesitated. She had a proud air to her; recent interaction between the Aes Sedai and the Sea Folk had made her bold. Egwene shoved down a stab of anger; she did not like the details of the bargain regarding the Bowl of Winds. Nynaeve and Elayne should have known better. They—
No. Elayne and Nynaeve had done their best, and had been under unusual strain. Besides, bargaining with the Sea Folk was said to be only one step safer than bargaining with the Dark One himself.
Shielyn finally gave a curt nod, though her blouse changed colors several times while she considered, settling on crimson, and her jewelry kept vanishing and reappearing. "Very well. We are indebted to you for the gift of this place, and will agree to your hospitality." She sat down in a chair apart from Egwene and the other Aes Sedai, and those with her did as well.
Egwene released a soft breath of relief and summoned several small tables with cups of warm, fragrant tea. The Windfinders jumped, though the Wise Ones didn't bat an eye. Amys did, however, reach for her cup and change the rose-blossom tea to something with a much darker cast.
"Perhaps you will tell us the purpose of this meeting," Bair said, sipping her tea. The Sea Folk did not pick up theirs, though the Aes Sedai did began to drink.
"We have guessed it already," Shielyn said. "This confrontation is in-evitable, though I wish to the winds that it were not so."
"Well, speak up, then," Yukiri said. "What is it about?"
Shielyn focused on Egwene. "For many seasons and tides we hid the nature of our Windfmding from the Aes Sedai. The White Tower inhales, but does not exhale—that which is brought in is never allowed to leave. Now that you know of us, you want us, for you cannot stand the thought of women channeling outside of your grasp."
The Aes Sedai frowned. Egwene caught Melaine nodding in agreement. The words were true enough, though only one side of the issue. If they'd known how useful White Tower training would be, and how important it was for the people to know that channelers were being cared for and trained . . .
However, that thinking felt hollow to her. The Sea Folk had their own traditions, and made fine use of their channelers without regulation from the White Tower. Egwene hadn't spent as much time with the Sea Folk as Nynaeve or Elayne, but she'd had detailed reports. The Windfinders were unskilled with many weaves, but their abilities with specific weaves— particularly those focusing on Air—were far more advanced than those practiced by Aes Sedai.
These women deserved the truth. Was that not what the White Tower, and the Three Oaths, stood for? "You are correct, Shielyn din Sabura Night Waters " Egwene said. "And your people may have been wise to keep their abilities hidden from the Aes Sedai."
Yukiri gasped, a quite un-Aes Sedai reaction. Shielyn
froze, chain from her ear to nose tinkling softly as the medallions on it hit together. Her blouse changed to blue. "What?"
"You may have been wise," Egwene said. "I would not presume to second-guess the Amyrlins who came before me, but there is an argument to be made. Perhaps we have been overly zealous to control women who can wield the One Power. It is obvious that the Windfinders have done well in training themselves. I should think that the White Tower could learn much from you."
Shielyn settled back, scanning Egwene's face. Egwene met the woman's eyes and kept her expression calm. See that I am resolute, she thought. See that I mean what I say. That is not flattery. I am Aes Sedai. 1 speak the truth.
"Well," Shielyn said. "Perhaps we could make a bargain that would allow us to train your women."
Egwene smiled. "I was hoping that you would see the advantage ' that." To the side, the three other Aes Sedai regarded Egwene with mea-sured hostility. Well, they would see. The best way to gain the upper hand was to shake expectations like rindwater beetles in a jar.
"And yet," Egwene said, "you acknowledge that there are things the White Tower knows that you do not. Otherwise you would not have striven to bargain for our women to train your Windflnders."
"We will not rescind that agreement," Shielyn said quickly. Her blouse turned pale yellow.
"Oh, I expect nothing of the sort," Egwene said. "It is well that you now have Aes Sedai teachers. Those who bargained with you achieved something unexpected."
True words, every one. However, the way she said them implied something more—that Egwene had wanted the Aes Sedai to be sent to the Sea Folk ships. Shielyn's frown deepened, and she sat back in her chair. Egwene hoped she was considering whether her people's grand victory over the Bowl of the Winds had been a setup from the start.
"If anything," Egwene continued, "I feel that the previous agreement was not ambitious enough." She turned to the Wise Ones. "Amys, would you agree that the Aes Sedai have knowledge of weaves that the Wise Ones do not?"
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