Lord of Chaos

## Chapter 49

#### The Mirror of Mists

Rand puffed contentedly on his pipe, sitting in his shirtsleeves with his back against one of the slender white columns that surrounded the small oval courtyard, and watched the water spray up in the marble fountain, sparkling like gems in the sunlight. The morning still left this part of the courtyard in pleasant shade. Even Lews Therin was still. “Are you sure you won’t reconsider Tear?”

Seated against the next column and also coatless, Perrin blew two smoke rings before replacing his pipe, a rather ornate thing carved with wolfheads. “What about what Min saw?”

Rand’s attempt at his own ring ran afoul of a sour grunt and came out just a puff of smoke. Min had had no right to bring that up where Perrin could hear. “Do you really want to be tied to my belt, Perrin?”

“What I want hasn’t seemed to count much since the first time we saw Moiraine back in Emond’s Field,” Perrin said dryly. He sighed. “You are who you are, Rand. If you fail, everything fails.” Suddenly he sat forward, frowning toward a wide doorway behind the columns to their left.

A long moment later Rand heard footsteps in that direction, too heavy for any human. The broad shape that ducked through the doorway and strode into the courtyard was more than twice as tall as the serving woman who was almost running to keep up with the Ogier’s long legs.

“Loial!” Rand exclaimed, scrambling to his feet. He and Perrin reached the Ogier together. The grin on Loial’s wide mouth really did almost split his huge face in two, but his long coat, spreading out above turned-down knee-high boots, still carried travel dust. The big pockets bulged with squarish shapes, too; Loial was never far from books. “Are you all right, Loial?”

“You look tired,” Perrin said, urging the Ogier toward the fountain. “Sit on the coping.”

Loial let himself be led, but his long dangling eyebrows rose and tufted ears quivered in puzzlement as he stared from one of them to the other. Sitting, he was as tall as Perrin standing. “All right? Tired?” His voice was a rumble like the earth moving. “Of course I am all right. And if I’m tired, I have walked a long way. I must say it felt good to be back on my own feet. You always know where your feet are taking you, but you never can be sure with a horse. Anyway, my feet are faster.” Abruptly he let out a thunderous laugh. “You owe me a gold crown, Perrin. You and your ten days. I will wager another crown you’ve not been here more than five days before me.”

“You’ll get your crown.” Perrin laughed. In an aside to Rand that had Loial’s ears vibrating indignantly, he added, “Gaul corrupted him. He dices now, and bets on horse races when he can barely tell one horse from another.”

Rand grinned. Loial always had looked at horses rather dubiously, and small wonder since his legs were longer than theirs. “Are you sure you’re all right, Loial?”

“Did you find that abandoned stedding?” Perrin asked around his pipestem.

“Did you stay long enough?”

“What are you two talking about?” Loial’s uncertain frown trailed the ends of his eyebrows down onto his cheeks. “I just wanted to see a stedding again, to feel one. I am ready for ten more years.”

“That isn’t what your mother says,” Rand said seriously.

Loial was on his feet before Rand finished, staring wildly in every direction, ears laid back and trembling. “My mother? Here? She is here?”

“No, she isn’t,” Perrin said, and Loial’s ears almost went limp with relief. “It seems she’s in the Two Rivers. Or was a month ago. Rand used some way of hopping about he has to take her and Elder Haman—What’s the matter?”

Halfway to sitting down again, Loial froze with his knees bent at Elder Haman’s name. Eyes closed, he lowered himself slowly the rest of the way. “Elder Haman,” he muttered, rubbing his face with a thick-fingered hand. “Elder Haman and my mother.” He peered at Perrin. He peered at Rand. In a voice that was low and much too casual, he asked, “Was anyone else with them?” Well, it was low for an Ogier; a giant bumblebee buzzing in a huge waterjar.

“A young Ogier woman named Erith,” Rand told him. “You—” That was as far as he got.

With a moan Loial leaped to his feet again. Servants’ heads appeared at doorways and windows to see what that vast noise was, and vanished again when they saw Rand. Loial began pacing back and forth, ears and eyebrows both drooping so much that he seemed to be melting. “A wife,” he mumbled. “It cannot mean anything else, not with Mother and Elder Haman. A wife. I’m too young to get married!” Rand hid a smile behind his hand; Loial might be young for an Ogier, but in his case that meant more than ninety. “She’ll drag me back to Stedding Shangtai. I know she won’t let me travel with you, and I still don’t have near enough notes for my book. Oh, you can smile, Perrin. Faile does whatever you say.” Perrin choked on his pipe, wheezing until Rand slapped his back. “It is different with us,” Loial went on. “It is considered very rude not to do as your wife says. Very rude. I know she’ll make me settle down to something solid and respectable, like treesinging or . . . ” Abruptly he frowned and stopped pacing. “Did you say Erith?” Rand nodded; Perrin seemed to be getting his breath back, but he was glaring at Loial in a sort of malevolent amusement. “Erith, daughter of Iva daughter of Alar?” Rand nodded again, and Loial sank back to his place on the fountain coping. “But I know her. You remember her, Rand. We met her at Stedding Tsofu.”

“That is what I was trying to tell you,” Rand said patiently. And with no little amusement himself. “She was the one who said you’re handsome. And gave you a flower, as I recall.”

“She might have said,” Loial muttered defensively. “She might have done; I cannot recall.” But one hand strayed toward a coat pocket full of books, where Rand would have wagered anything that flower was carefully pressed. The Ogier cleared his throat, a deep rumble. “Erith is very beautiful. I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful. And intelligent. She listened very attentively when I explained Serden’s theory—that is Serden, son of Kolom son of Radlin; he wrote about six hundred years ago—when I explained his theory of how the Ways . . . ” He trailed off as if he had just noticed their grins. “Well, she did listen. Attentively. She was very interested.”

“I’m sure she was,” Rand said noncommittally. Mention of the Ways made him think. Most of the Waygates were near stedding, and if Loial’s mother and Elder Haman were to be believed, the stedding were what Loial needed. Of course, he could not take Loial any closer than the edge of one; you could not channel into a stedding any more than you could channel inside one. “Listen, Loial. I want to put guards on all the Waygates, and I need somebody who can not only find them, but can talk to the Elders as well and get their permission.”

“Light,” Perrin growled disgustedly. He tapped out his pipe and ground the dottle into the courtyard paving stone under his boot heel. “Light! You send Mat off to face down Aes Sedai, you want to dump me into the middle of a war with Sammael and a few hundred Two Rivers men with me, some of them you know, and now you want to send Loial off when he’s only just arrived. Burn you, Rand, look at him! He needs rest. Is there anybody you won’t use? Maybe you want Faile to go hunt Moghedien or Semirhage. Light!”

Anger welled up in Rand, a tempest that made him shake. Those yellow eyes stared at him grimly, but he stared back like thunder. “I will use anybody I must. You said it yourself; I am who I am. And I’m using myself up, Perrin, because I have to. Just like I’ll use anybody I have to. We don’t have a choice anymore. Not me, not you, not anybody!”

“Rand, Perrin,” Loial murmured worriedly. “Be still, be calm. Don’t fight. Not you.” A hand the size of a ham patted each of them awkwardly on the shoulder. “You should both rest in a stedding. The stedding are very peaceful, very soothing.”

Rand stared at Perrin staring at him. Anger still flashed in him, lightning flashes in a storm that would not quite die. Lews Therin’s mutters rumbled fitfully, far off. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, meaning it for both.

Perrin made an offhand gesture, maybe meaning there was nothing to apologize for, maybe accepting the apology, but he did not offer one himself. Instead his head swung toward the columns again, toward the door Loial had come through. Once more moments passed before Rand heard running footsteps.

Min dashed into the courtyard at a dead run. Ignoring Loial and Perrin, she seized Rand’s arms. “They’re coming,” she panted. “They are on their way right now.”

“Easy, Min,” Rand said. “Calm yourself. I was beginning to think they were all taking to their beds like—what did you say her name is? Demira?” In truth, he felt considerable relief, though Lews Therin’s grumbling and wheezing laughter grew louder with the mention of Aes Sedai. For three days Merana had appeared with two sisters each afternoon as regular as the finest clockmaker’s art, but the visits had suddenly stopped five days ago without a word of explanation. Min had no idea why. He had been worried that they had taken offense enough at his rules to leave.

But Min stared up at him with a face of anguish. She was trembling, he realized. “Listen to me! It is seven of them, not three, and they didn’t send me to ask permission or let you know or anything. I slipped out ahead of them, and galloped Wildrose the whole way. They mean to be inside the Palace before you know they’re here. I heard Merana talking to Demira when they didn’t know I was there. They mean to reach the Grand Hall ahead of you, so you have to come to them.”

“Is this your viewing, do you think?” he asked calmly. Women who could channel would hurt him badly, she had said. Seven! Lews Therin whispered hoarsely. No! No! No! Rand ignored him; there was little else he could do.

“I don’t know,” Min said in an agonized voice. Rand was startled to realize the shine in her dark eyes came from unshed tears. “Do you think I wouldn’t tell you if I knew? All I know is they are coming, and—”

“And there is nothing to be afraid of,” he broke in firmly. The Aes Sedai must really have frightened her for Min to be near crying. Seven, Lews Therin groaned. I cannot handle seven, not at once. Not seven. Rand thought of the fat-little-man angreal, and the voice faded to murmurs; it still sounded uneasy, though. At least Alanna was not one of them; Rand could feel her at some distance, not moving, certainly not toward him. He was not sure he dared come face-to-face with her again. “There’s no time to waste, either. Jalani?”

The plump-cheeked young Maiden popped out from behind a column so suddenly that Loial’s ears shot straight up. Min seemed to see the Ogier for the first time, and Perrin; she gave a start too.

“Jalani,” Rand said, “tell Nandera I am going to the Grand Hall, where I expect Aes Sedai shortly.”

She tried to maintain a smooth face, but the beginnings of a self-satisfied grin made her cheeks seem even plumper. “Beralna has already gone to inform Nandera, Car’a’carn.” Loial’s ears flickered in surprise at the title.

“Then would you tell Sulin to meet me at the dressing rooms behind the Grand Hall with my coat? And the Dragon Scepter.”

Jalani’s grin widened openly. “Sulin has already gone running in her wetlander dress as fast as a gray-nosed hare that sat on segade spines.”

“In that case,” Rand said, “you can bring my horse to the Grand Hall.” The young Maiden’s jaw dropped, especially when Perrin and Loial doubled over laughing.

Min’s fist in Rand’s shortribs made him grunt. “This is no joking matter, you thick-skulled sheepfarmer! Merana and the rest were wrapping themselves in their shawls as though putting on armor. Now, listen to me. I will stand over to one side, behind the columns, so you can see and they cannot, and if I see anything, I’ll make some sort of signal.”

“You will stay here with Loial and Perrin,” he told her. “I don’t know what kind of signal you could make that I’d understand, and if they catch even a glimpse of you, they will know you warned me.” She gave him one of those fists-on-hips, glaring-up-through-her-eyelashes, sullen stubborn stares. “Min?”

To his surprise, she sighed and said, “Yes, Rand,” just as meek as milkwater. That sort of thing from her made him as suspicious as it would have from Elayne or Aviendha, but he had no time for digging if he was to be in the Grand Hall before Merana. Nodding, he hoped he did not look as uncertain as he felt.

Wondering whether he should have asked Perrin and Loial to keep her there—she would have loved that—he trotted all the way to the dressing rooms behind the Grand Hall with Jalani at his heels muttering about whether the horse had been a joke. Sulin was already there with a gold-embroidered red coat and the Dragon Scepter; the spearhead got an approving grunt, though no doubt she would have found it more acceptable without the green-and-white tassel and with a proper length of shaft and no carvings. Rand felt to be sure the angreal was in the pocket. It was, and he breathed more easily, though Lews Therin still seemed to be panting anxiously.

When Rand hurried through one of the lion-paneled dressing rooms into the Grand Hall, he discovered that everyone had been as quick as Sulin. Bael towered at one side of the throne dais with his arms folded, while Melaine stood on the other, calmly adjusting her dark shawl. What must have been a hundred or more Maidens lined the way from the doors on one knee, under Nandera’s watchful gaze, complete with spears and bucklers, horn bows cased on their backs and full quivers at their hips. Only their eyes showed above black veils. Jalani ran to join one of those lines. Behind them more Aiel crowded among the thick columns, men and Maidens, though none appeared armed beyond their heavy-bladed knives. There were a number of grim faces, though. They could not be enjoying the thought of a confrontation with Aes Sedai, and not for fear of the Power. However Melaine and the other Wise Ones might speak of them now, most Aiel had that ancient failure of the Aiel firmly fixed in their heads.

Bashere was not there, of course—he and his wife were out at one of Bashere’s training camps—and neither were any of the Andoran nobles who flocked around the Palace. Rand was sure that Naean and Elenia and Lir and that entire lot would have learned of this gathering as soon as it began. They never missed an audience from the throne unless he sent them away. Their absence could only mean that on their way to the Grand Hall, they had learned the reason too, and that meant the Aes Sedai were already in the Palace.

Indeed, Rand had no sooner seated himself on the Dragon Throne with the Dragon Scepter on his knee than Mistress Harfor scurried into the Grand Hall looking flustered, quite unusual for her. Staring at him and all the Aiel with equal amazement, she said, “I sent servants everywhere to find you. There are Aes Sedai—” That was as far as she got before seven Aes Sedai appeared in the wide doorway.

Rand felt Lews Therin reaching for saidin, touching the angreal, but Rand took hold of it himself, holding that raging torrent of fire and ice, filth and sweetness, as hard as he did the piece of Seanchan spear.

Seven, Lews Therin mumbled darkly. I told them three, and seven come. I must be cautious. Yes. Cautious.

I said three, Rand snapped back at the voice. Me! Rand al’Thor! Lews Therin fell silent, but then the distant muttering began again.

Glancing from Rand to the seven women in their fringed shawls, Mistress Harfor apparently decided between was no place to be. The Aes Sedai received her first curtsy, Rand the second, and she walked with a good show of calm to one side of the doorway. When the Aes Sedai entered, though, forming a line abreast, she did slip out behind them with just a touch of haste.

On each of her three visits Merana had brought different Aes Sedai, and Rand recognized all but one of these, from Faeldrin Harella on the right, her dark hair in a multitude of thin braids worked with brightly colored beads, to stout Valinde Nathenos on the left in her white-fringed shawl and white dress. They were all clothed in their Ajah colors. He knew who the one he did not recognize must be. That coppery skin made the gracefully beautiful woman in dark bronze silk Demira Eriff, the Brown sister who Min had reported had taken to her bed. But she stood in the center of the line, a pace ahead of the others, while Merana stood between Faeldrin and plump, round-faced Rafela Cindal, who looked even more serious today than she had when he saw her with Merana six days ago. They all looked very serious.

For one moment they paused, looking at him impassively, ignoring the Aiel; then they glided forward, first Demira, then Seonid and Rafela, then Merana and Masuri, forming an arrowhead pointed straight at Rand. He did not need the faint tingle in his skin to tell him they had embraced saidar. With every step each woman appeared noticeably taller than before.

They think to impress me spinning the Mirror of Mists? Lews Therin’s incredulous laugh faded into mad giggles. Rand did not need the man’s explanation; he had seen Moiraine do something like this once. Asmodean had called it the Mirror of Mists too, and also Illusion.

Melaine shifted her shawl irritably and sniffed loudly, but Bael suddenly looked as if he were facing, all alone, a charge by hundreds. He meant to stand against it, but he did not expect any good outcome. For that matter, some of the Maidens stirred until Nandera glared at them over her veil, and that did not stop the soft sound of shifting feet from the Aiel among the columns.

Demira Eriff began to speak, and plainly channeling was involved there too. She did not shout, but her voice filled the Grand Hall, seeming to come from everywhere. “Under the circumstances, it was decided that I should speak for all. We intend you no harm here today, but the strictures we accepted before, that you would feel safe, we must now reject. Obviously you have never learned the respect due Aes Sedai. You must learn it now. Henceforth we shall come and go as we please, saving only that at our choice, we will still inform you first in the future when we wish to speak with you. Your Aiel watchers around our inn must be removed, and no one is to watch or follow us. Any future insult to our dignity will be punished, though those we must punish are as children, and you will be responsible for their pain. This is how it must be. This is how it shall be. Know that we are Aes Sedai.”

As that long arrowhead halted before the throne, Rand noticed Melaine glancing at him, frowning, no doubt wondering whether he was impressed. If he had not some notion of what was happening, he would have been; he was not sure he was not anyway. The seven Aes Sedai stood twice as tall as Loial, maybe more, heads nearly halfway to the vaulted ceiling with its colored-glass windows. Demira gazed down at him, cool and dispassionate, as if she might be contemplating picking him up in one hand, which she appeared big enough to do.

Rand made himself lean back casually, his mouth tightening when he realized that it had taken an effort, if not very great. Lews Therin chittered and screamed, but in the distance, something about not waiting, striking now. She had laid emphasis on certain words, as if he should understand the significance. Under what circumstances? They had accepted the restrictions before; why were they suddenly a breach of respect? Why did they suddenly decide that far from needing to make him feel safe, they could threaten? “The Tower emissaries in Cairhien accept the same constraints as you and do not seem offended.” Well, not very offended. “Instead of vague threats, they offer gifts.”

“They are not us. They are not here. We will not buy you.”

The contempt in Demira’s voice stung. Rand’s knuckles ached from his grip on the Dragon Scepter. His anger had an echo from Lews Therin, and suddenly he realized the man was struggling again to reach the Source.

Burn you! Rand thought. He meant to shield them, but Lews Therin spoke, panting in near panic.

Not strong enough. Even with the angreal, maybe not strong enough, not to hold seven. You fool! You waited too long! Too dangerous!

Shielding anyone did take a fair amount of strength. With the angreal, Rand was sure he could make seven shields, even with them embracing saidar already; but if even one could break that shield . . . or more than one. He wanted to impress them with his strength, not give them a chance to overcome it. But there was another way. Weaving Spirit, Fire and Earth just so, he struck almost as if intending to shield.

Their Mirror of Mists shattered. Suddenly there were only seven normal women standing in front of him with stunned faces. Shock vanished behind Aes Sedai tranquility in an instant, however.

“You have heard our requirements,” Demira said in a normal voice, but a commanding one, just as if nothing had happened at all. “We expect them to be met.”

Rand stared in spite of himself. What did he have to do to show them he would not be browbeaten? Saidin raged in him, a boiling fury. He did not dare release it. Lews Therin was screaming maniacally now, trying to claw the Source out of his grip. It was all he could do to hold on. Slowly he stood. With the extra height of the dais, he towered over them. Seven unruffled Aes Sedai faces looked up at him. “The restrictions stand,” he said quietly. “And one more requirement of my own. From now on I expect to see the respect I deserve from you. I am the Dragon Reborn. You may go now. The audience is at an end.”

For perhaps ten heartbeats they stood there, not even blinking, as though to show they would not move a single slipper at his command. Then Demira turned without so much as a nod of her head. As she passed Seonid and Rafela, they fell in behind her, and the others in turn, all gliding smoothly, without hurry, across the red and white tiles and out of the Grand Hall.

Rand stepped down from the dais as they vanished into the corridor.

“The Car’a’carn handled them well,” Melaine said, loudly enough to be heard in every corner. “They must be taken by the scruff of the neck and taught honor though they weep for it.” Bael did not quite manage to hide his discomfort, hearing Aes Sedai spoken of so.

“Perhaps it is the way to handle Wise Ones too?” Rand asked, managing a smile.

Melaine lowered her voice, shifting her shawl emphatically. “Do not be a complete fool, Rand al’Thor.”

Bael chuckled, though his wife glared at him. At least he had brought a chuckle. Rand did not feel the humor of the small joke, though, and not because of the buffering of the Void. He almost wished he had let Min come. There were too many undercurrents here he could not understand, and he was afraid there were some he did not even see. What were they really after?

Closing the small door of the dressing room, Min leaned back against a dark lion-carved wall panel and drew a very deep breath. Faile had come for Perrin, and however much Loial had protested that Rand wanted her to stay there, he had crumpled before the simple truth that Rand had no right to make her stay anywhere. Of course, if Loial had had any idea what she intended, he might have tucked her under his arm—quite gently, of course—and sat there in the courtyard reading to her.

The thing was, while she had heard everything, she had not seen very much, aside from Aes Sedai towering over throne and dais. They must have been channeling, which did tend to obscure the images and auras, but she had been so astounded she would not have noticed had any been present. By the time she recovered, they were no longer towering, and Demira’s voice no longer boomed from every angle.

Chewing her underlip, she thought furiously. There were two problems, as she saw it. First, Rand and his demands for respect, whatever he meant by that. If he expected Merana to curtsy with her head to the floor, he was going to have a long wait, and in the meantime, he had surely put their backs up. There had to be some way she could smooth that over, if she could just see how. The second problem was the Aes Sedai. Rand seemed to think this was some sort of snit that he could end by putting his foot down. Min was not certain Aes Sedai had snits, but if they did, she was sure this was something more serious. The only place to find out, though, was The Crown of Roses.

Reclaiming Wildrose at the forecourt stable, she trotted the bay mare back to the inn and handed her over to a big-eared stableman with a request that the horse be rubbed down well and fed some oats. Her gallop to the Palace had been just that, and Wildrose deserved a reward for helping spike Merana and the others’ scheme. From the cold fury in Rand’s voice, she was not certain what would have happened had he suddenly learned out of a clear sky that seven Aes Sedai were awaiting him in the Grand Hall.

The common room of The Crown of Roses looked almost the same as when she had scuttled out through the kitchens earlier. Warders sat about at the tables, some playing dominoes or stones, others tossing dice. Almost as one they glanced up as she entered, and, recognizing her, went back to what they were doing. Mistress Cinchonine was standing in front of the wine-room door—no barrels of ale and wine stacked along the common-room wall in The Crown of Roses—with her arms folded and a sour expression on her face. The Warders were the only ones at the tables, and as a rule, Warders drank little and seldom. Any number of pewter mugs and cups stood on tables, but Min did not see one of them touched. She did see a man who might be willing to tell her a little.

Mahiro Shukosa sat at a table by himself working tavern puzzles, the two swords he usually wore on his back propped against the wall in easy reach. With graying temples and a noble nose, Mahiro was handsome in a rugged sort of way, though certainly only a woman in love would have called him beautiful. In Kandor he was a lord. He had visited the courts of almost every land, traveled with a small library, and won or lost gambling with the same easy smile. He could recite poetry and play the harp and dance like a dream. In short, except for being Rafela’s Warder, he was exactly the sort of man she had liked before meeting Rand. Still liked, actually, when she could see them for thinking about Rand. Whether fortunately or unfortunately, Mahiro saw her in a way Min suspected might be peculiar to Kandor, as a sort of younger sister who occasionally needed someone to talk to and a little advice so she would not break her neck while sowing her wild oats. He told her she had pretty legs, would never think of touching them, and would break the neck of any man who did think of it without her permission.

Deftly slipping the intricate iron pieces back together, he placed the puzzle on a stack of those already worked and took up one from another stack as she sat down across from him. “So, cabbage,” he said with a grin, “back with your neck unbroken, not kidnapped and not married.” One day she was going to ask him what that meant; he always said it.

“Has anything happened since I went out, Mahiro?”

“You mean aside from the sisters returning from the Palace looking like a storm in the mountains.” As usual, the puzzle came apart in his hands as though channeled.

“What upset them?”

“Al’Thor, I suppose.” The puzzle went back together just as easily and joined the pile of discards; immediately one from the other pile did, too. “I worked that one years ago,” he confided.

“But how, Mahiro? What happened?”

Dark eyes regarded her; a leopard’s eyes would look like Mahiro’s if they were nearly black. “Min, a yearling who puts her nose into the wrong den may have her ears bitten off.”

Min winced. All too true. The fool things a woman did because she was in love. “That is what I would like to avoid, Mahiro. The only reason I’m here is to carry messages back and forth between Merana and the Palace, but I walk in there with no idea what I’m walking into. I don’t know why the sisters stopped meeting him every day, or why they started back, or why a whole fistful went today instead of just three. I could get more than my ears bitten, not knowing. Merana isn’t going to tell me. She doesn’t tell me anything except go there, do that. Just a hint, Mahiro? Please?”

He began studying the puzzle, yet she knew he was thinking, because the interlocked pieces shifted about in his long fingers but nothing came loose.

A motion at the back of the common room caught her eye and she half-turned her head before her neck froze. Two Aes Sedai were coming back from the baths, by the freshly washed look of them, The last time she had seen that pair was months ago, before they were sent out from Salidar because Sheriam had a hunch Rand was in the Aiel waste somewhere. That was where Bera Harkin and Kiruna Nachiman had been headed; the Waste, not Caemlyn.

Except for her ageless face, Bera would have looked like a farmwife with her brown hair cut close around a square face, but at the moment that face was set in grim determination. Kiruna, elegant and statuesque, seemed every inch exactly what she was, sister to the King of Arafel and a powerful lady in her own right. Her large dark eyes gleamed as if she was about to order an execution and enjoy it. Images and auras flickered about them as always around Aes Sedai and Warders. One caught Min’s eye when it flashed around both women at the same instant, brownish yellow and deep purple. The colors themselves meant nothing, but that aura made Min stop breathing.

The table was not far from the foot of the stairs, but the two women did not glance at Min as they turned to climb. Neither had ever given her more than two looks in Salidar, and now they were engrossed in their own conversation.

“Alanna should have brought him to heel long since.” Kiruna’s voice was low, yet close to open anger. “I would have. When she arrives, I will tell her so, and the Dark One take convention.”

“He should be leashed,” Bera agreed in a flat tone, “and before he can do more damage to Andor.” She was Andoran. “The sooner, the better, I say.”

As the pair sailed up the stairs, Min realized Mahiro was looking at her. “How did they get here?” she asked, and was surprised her voice sounded perfectly ordinary. Kiruna and Bera made thirteen. Thirteen Aes Sedai. And there was that aura.

“They followed word of al’Thor. They were halfway to Cairhien when they heard he was here. I would walk wide of them, Min. Their Gaidin tell me neither is in a good temper.” Kiruna had four Warders, and Bera three.

Min managed a smile. She wanted to dart out of the inn, but that would raise all sorts of suspicions, even in Mahiro. “That sounds good advice. What about my hint?”

He hesitated another moment, then set the puzzle down. “I will not say what is or is not, but a word in a good ear. Maybe you should expect al’Thor to be upset. Maybe you should even consider asking if someone else can deliver any messages, perhaps one of us.” He meant the Warders. “Maybe the sisters have decided to teach al’Thor a small lesson in humility. And that, cabbage, is maybe a word more than I should have said. You will think on it?”

Min did not know whether the “small lesson” was what had happened at the Palace or something to come, but it all fit together. And that aura. “That sounds good advice too. Mahiro, if Merana comes looking for me to carry a message, will you tell her I am looking at the sights in the Inner City for the next few days?”

“A long journey,” he chuckled, gently mocking. “You will kidnap a husband yet if you are not careful.”

The big-eared hostler stared when Min insisted he root Wildrose out of her stall and saddle her again. She rode out of the stableyard at a walk, but as soon as the first turning hid The Crown of Roses, Min dug her heels and sent people leaping from her path as she galloped toward the Palace as fast as Wildrose could carry her.

“Thirteen,” Rand said flatly, and just saying it was enough for Lews Therin to try seizing control of saidin from him again. It was a wordless struggle with a snarling beast. When Min first said there actually were thirteen Aes Sedai in Caemlyn, Rand had barely managed to seize the Power before Lews Therin could. Sweat rolled down Rand’s face; there were dark patches on his coat. He only had room for concentrating on one thing. Keeping saidin away from Lews Therin. A muscle in his cheek jumped from the strain. His right hand trembled.

Min stopped pacing across his sitting-room carpet, and bounced on her toes. “It isn’t only that, Rand,” she said frantically. “It’s the aura. Blood, death, the One Power, those two women and you, all in the same place at the same time.” Her eyes were shining again, but this time tears leaked silently down her cheeks. “Kiruna and Bera do not like you, not at all! Remember what I saw around you? Women who can channel, hurting you. It is the auras, and the thirteen, and everything, Rand. It is too much!”

She always said her viewing always came true, though she could never tell whether in a day or a year or ten, and if he remained in Caemlyn, he thought it might be the day. Even with only a snarling in his head to go on, he knew Lews Therin wanted to strike at Merana and the others before they could strike at him. For that matter, the idea appealed uncomfortably to Rand. Maybe it was only happenstance, maybe his ta’veren twisting of chance had worked against him, but the fact remained. Merana had decided to challenge him on the very day the number of Aes Sedai reached thirteen.

Rising, he strode into his bedchamber long enough to fetch his sword from the back of the wardrobe and fasten the Dragon-shaped buckle. “You’re coming with me, Min,” he told her as he snatched up the Dragon Scepter and headed for the door.

“Coming where?” she demanded, wiping her cheeks with a handkerchief, but she did follow, and he was already in the hallway. Jalani bounced to her feet a touch more quickly than Beralna, a bony redhead with blue eyes and a feral grin.

With none but Maidens about, Beralna would stare at him as though considering whether to do him the great favor of doing as he asked, but he gave her a sharp stare of his own. The Void made his voice distant and cold. Lews Therin had subsided to muted whimpers, but Rand dared not relax. Not in Caemlyn; not anywhere near Caemlyn. “Beralna, find Nandera and tell her to meet me in Perrin’s rooms with however many Maidens she wants to take.” He could not leave Perrin behind, and not because of any viewing; when Merana found Rand gone, one of them might well bond Perrin the way Alanna had him. “I may not be coming back here. If anyone sees Perrin or Faile or Loial, tell them to meet me there too. Jalani, find Mistress Harfor. Tell her I need pen and ink and paper.” He had letters to write before he left. His hand trembled again, and he added, “Lots of paper. Well? Go! Go!” They exchanged one look, and went at a run. He headed in the opposite direction, with Min almost trotting to keep up.

“Rand, where are we going?”

“Cairhien.” With the Void around him, that came out cold as a slap in the face. “Trust me, Min. I won’t hurt you. I will cut off my arm before I hurt you.” She was silent, and he finally looked down to find her peering up at him with a strange expression.

“That’s very nice to hear, sheepherder.” Her voice was as odd as her face. The thought of thirteen Aes Sedai coming for him must have really frightened her, and small wonder.

“Min, if it comes down to facing them, I promise to send you away out of danger somehow.” How could any man face thirteen? The thought made Lews Therin surge again, screaming.

To his surprise, she flourished those knives out of her coatsleeves and opened her mouth, but then slid the blades back just as smoothly—she must have been practicing—before she spoke. “You can lead me by the nose to Cairhien or anywhere else, sheepherder, but you better dig deep and try hard if you think to send me anywhere at all.” For some reason, he was sure that was not what she had been going to say.

When they reached Perrin’s rooms, Rand found quite a gathering. At one side of the sitting room Perrin and Loial were in shirtsleeves, cross-legged on the blue carpet and smoking their pipes with Gaul, a Stone Dog Rand remembered from the fall of the Stone. On the other side of the room sat Faile, also on the floor, with Bain and Chiad, who had also been at the Stone. Through the open door to the other room, Rand could see Sulin changing bed linens, flinging them about as though she would rather rip them to shreds. Everyone looked up when he and Min entered, and Sulin came to the bedchamber door.

There was a good bit of scrambling about once he explained about the thirteen Aes Sedai and what Min had overheard. Not the viewings, though; some in the room knew, some might not, and he was not going to tell anyone unless she did. Which she did not. And not about Lews Therin, of course; not that he was afraid of what might happen to him in a city with thirteen Aes Sedai even if they sat on their hands. Let them think he was panicky if they wished; he was not sure he was not. Lews Therin had gone silent, but Rand could feel him, like heated eyes watching in the night. Anger and fear, and maybe panic too, crawled outside the Void like large spiders.

Perrin and Faile immediately began a hasty packing, and Bain and Chiad flickered fingers at one another before announcing that they meant to accompany Faile, whereupon Gaul announced that he was accompanying Perrin. Rand did not understand what was going on there, but it involved a great deal of Gaul not looking at Bain or Chiad and them not looking at him. Loial went running off, muttering under his breath, as he thought about Cairhien being much farther from the Two Rivers than Caemlyn and his Mother being a famous walker. When he returned, he had a half-done bundle under one arm and huge saddlebags over his shoulder, shirts hanging out. Loial was ready to go on the spot. Sulin vanished as well, coming back with a bundle in her arms that seemed made out of red-and-white dresses. With her face fixed in that incongruous mildness, she growled at Rand that she had been commanded to serve him and Perrin and Faile, and only a sun-crazed lizard would think she could do that in Caemlyn when they were all in Cairhien. She even added a “my Lord Dragon” that sounded a curse, and a curtsy, amazingly without a single wobble. The latter seemed to amaze her too.

Nandera arrived at almost the same instant as Mistress Harfor, who was carrying a writing case with several steel-nibbed pens and enough paper and ink and sealing wax for fifty letters. Which turned out to be fortunate.

Perrin wanted to send word to Dannil Lewin telling him to follow with the rest of the Two Rivers men—he did not intend to leave any of them for the Aes Sedai, either—and he only refrained from telling Dannil to bring Bode and the other girls from Culain’s Hound when both Rand and Faile pointed out that in the first place, the Aes Sedai were not going to let them go, and in the second, it was not very likely they would want to. Perrin and she had both been to the inn more than once, and even Perrin had to admit that the girls mainly seemed impatient to get on with becoming Aes Sedai.

Faile herself had two hasty letters to write, to her mother and father, so they would not worry, she said. Rand did not know which was which, but they were very different in tone, the one begun half a dozen times then torn up, and every word frowned over, the other dashed off with smiles and chuckles. He thought that must be to her mother. Min wrote to a friend named Mahiro at The Crown of Roses, and for some reason made a point of telling Rand he was an old man, though she blushed at saying it. Even Loial took pen in hand after some hesitation. His own pen; a human pen would have vanished in his huge hands. Sealing his note, he handed it to Mistress Harfor with a diffident request that she deliver it personally if the chance arose. A thumb the size of a fat sausage covered most of the recipient’s name, in both human script and Ogier, but with the One Power sharpening his eyes, Rand noticed the name “Erith.” Still, he showed no sign of wanting to wait and give it to her himself.

Rand’s own letters were as difficult as Faile’s, but for different reasons. Sweat dripping from his face made the ink run, and his hand shook so that he had to start over more than once for ink-blots. He knew exactly what he wanted to say, though. To Taim, a warning about thirteen Aes Sedai and a reiteration of his orders to stay away from them. And to Merana, a different sort of warning, and an invitation of a kind; it was no use him trying to hide; Alanna could find him anywhere in the world eventually. It had to be on his terms, though, if he could manage that.

When he finally sealed them—the presence of a greenstone seal carved with a Dragon earned Mistress Harfor a stare, which she returned with the utmost blandness—Rand turned to Nandera. “Do you have your twenty Maidens outside?”

Nandera’s eyebrows rose. “Twenty? Your message said however many I wanted, and that you might not return. I have five hundred, and would have more had I not drawn the line.”

He only nodded. In his head was silence except for his own thoughts, but he could feel Lews Therin, inside the Void with him, waiting like a coiled spring. Not until he had passed everyone through the gateway to the chamber in Cairhien and let the hole close, cutting his sense of Alanna to that vague impression of somewhere west, not until then did Lews Therin seem to go away. It was as if, wearied by grappling with Rand, the man had gone to sleep. At last Rand pushed saidin away, and with that he realized how wearied he had been by the struggle. Loial had to carry him to his rooms in the Sun Palace.

Merana sat quietly by the sitting-room window, her back to the view of the street and Rand al’Thor’s letter on her lap. She knew its contents by heart.

Merana, it began. Not Merana Aes Sedai, nor even Merana Sedai.

Merana,

A friend of mine once told me that in most dice games, the number thirteen is considered nearly as unlucky as rolling the Dark One’s Eyes. I also think thirteen is an unlucky number. I am going to Cairhien. You may follow me as you can with no more than five other sisters. That way you will be on an equal footing with the emissaries from the White Tower. I will be displeased if you try to bring more. Do not press me again. I have little trust left in me.

Rand al’Thor
The Dragon Reborn

At the end, his pen had pressed so hard that it nearly tore the paper; the last two lines almost seemed a different hand from the rest.

Merana sat very quietly. She was not alone. The rest of the embassy, if it could still be called that, sat in chairs around the walls, in various states. Irritatingly, only Berenicia sat as small as Merana, plump hands folded in her lap, head bowed slightly and grave eyes watchful; she did not say a word unless spoken to. Faeldrin sat quite proudly and spoke when she wished, and so did Masuri and Rafela. For that matter, Seonid appeared scarcely less eager, sitting on the edge of her chair and often smiling determinedly. The rest were more like Valinde, almost placid. Everyone was there except Verin and Alanna, and Gaidin had been sent to find them. Kiruna and Bera, standing in the middle of the floor, were most definitely there.

“That anyone could send such a letter to Aes Sedai disgusts me.” Kiruna did not thunder; her voice managed to be cool and calm and forceful all at once. But her dark eyes did provide lightning. “Demira, can your informant confirm that al’Thor has gone to Cairhien?”

“Traveling,” Bera murmured in disbelief. “To think that he would rediscover that.”

The bright beads in Faeldrin’s braids clicked as she nodded. “We can think of no other thing it can be. It will be well to remember that he is perhaps more powerful even than Logain, or Mazrim Taim, yes?”

“Can nothing be done about Taim?” Rafela’s round face, normally mild and pleasant, was quite stern, and her usually sweet voice flat. “There are at least one hundred men who can channel—one hundred!—not twenty miles from where we sit.” Kairen nodded resolutely but did not speak.

“They must wait,” Kiruna said firmly. “Light and honor, I do not know how many sisters will be required to handle so many. Al’Thor is the important matter, and one we can handle. Demira?”

Demira had waited for the others to finish, of course. With a slight bow of her head, she said, “I know only that he is gone, apparently with a large number of Aiel, and possibly with Perrin Aybara as well.”

Verin had slipped into the room as Demira began, and she added, “There can be no doubt of Perrin. I sent Tomas to look at the Two Rivers men’s camp. It seems they have sent two men to the Palace for Perrin’s horse, and his wife’s. The rest have left the wagons and servants and are already riding east as hard as they can go. Behind Perrin’s wolfhead, and the Red Eagle of Manetheren.” A faint smile curved her lips as though she found that amusing. Kairen plainly did not; she gasped, then clamped her mouth shut in a hard line.

Merana did not find it amusing either, but it was such a small thing compared to the rest. A faint whiff of something spoiled when you already sat on a midden heap; a dog snarling at you when wolves already had hold of your skirts. To think that she had worried so over Verin, struggled so hard. Verin had hardly touched her own plans really, except for guiding Demira into suggesting today’s unfortunate confrontation. It had been done quite skillfully; Merana did not believe anyone but a Gray would have noticed. Yet she herself had agreed even with that. Facing al’Thor down—trying to face him down—was the least they could have done. She had worried about Verin, and then Kiruna and Bera appeared, neither with any tie to her authority, both at least as strong as Masuri or Faeldrin or Rafela.

“Now, that’s a rotten turnip tossed in the stew,” Bera muttered grimly. Kairen and a number of others nodded agreement.

“A small turnip,” Kiruna told her in a dry tone. Nearly everyone nodded, except Merana and Verin. Merana just sighed softly; Verin watched Kiruna with that birdlike gaze, her head tilted. “What is keeping Alanna?” Kiruna demanded of no one in particular. “I do not want to go over everything twice.”

Merana supposed she herself had begun it, deferring to Verin. She had still been the head of the delegation, everyone still followed her orders, even Masuri and Rafela and Faeldrin. But they all knew. She was not certain yet whether Kiruna or Bera had taken charge—that one was born on a farm and the other in a palace mattered not at all; that had nothing to do with being Aes Sedai—but the one thing Merana was sure of was that the embassy was crumbling around her. It was the sort of thing that would never have happened when the White Tower was whole, when an ambassador had the full power of the Tower and the Amyrlin Seat behind her, and no matter if she had taken thirty years to reach the shawl and barely had enough strength to keep from being sent away. They were only a collection of Aes Sedai now, slipping into their relative places without thought.

As if speaking her name had been a summons, Alanna appeared just as Bera was opening her mouth. She and Kiruna rounded on Alanna together. “Al’Thor claims to have gone to Cairhien,” Bera said baldly. “Can you add anything?”

Alanna faced them proudly, a dangerous gleam in her dark eyes. They were speaking of her Warder, after all. “He is somewhere to the east. That is all I know. It could be Cairhien.”

“If you had to bond a man without asking him,” Kiruna demanded in that commanding voice, “why, by the Light most holy, have you not used the bond to bend him to your will? Compared to the other, that is only slapping his wrist.”

Alanna still had small control of her emotions. Color actually flooded her cheeks, partly in anger by the way her eyes flashed, and assuredly partly in shame. “Has no one told you?” she asked, too brightly. “I suppose no one wants to think of it. I certainly do not.” Faeldrin and Seonid looked at the floor, and they were not the only ones. “I tried to compel him moments after I bonded him,” Alanna continued as if noticing none of it. “Have you ever attempted to uproot an oak tree with your bare hands, Kiruna? It was much the same.”

Kiruna’s only reaction was a slow widening of her eyes, a slow deep breath. Bera actually muttered, “That’s impossible. Impossible.”

Alanna threw back her head and laughed. Her hands on her hips made the laughter seem contemptuous, which tightened Bera’s mouth and brought a cold gleam to Kiruna’s eyes. Verin peered at them, reminding Merana uncomfortably of a robin peering at worms. Somehow Verin seemed to defer without deferring, though Merana could not understand how.

“No one ever before has bonded a man who can channel,” Alanna said when her mirth subsided. “Perhaps that has something to do with it.”

“Be that as it may,” Bera said firmly. Her gaze was just as firm. “Be that as it may. You can still locate him.”

“Yes,” Kiruna said. “You will come with us, Alanna.” Alanna blinked as though coming to herself. Her head bowed slightly in acquiescence.

It was time, Merana decided. If she was to hold the delegation together, this was her last chance. She stood, folding al’Thor’s letter to give her hands something to do. “When I brought this embassy to Caemlyn,” she began, to remind them all that she was the head; thank the Light that her voice was steady, “I was given great leeway, yet it seemed obvious what should be done, and we,” to remind them they were a delegation, “set about it with a fair expectation of success. Al’Thor was to be enticed out of Caemlyn so that we could return Elayne and see her crowned, placing Andor firmly behind us. Slowly al’Thor was to be brought to trust us, that we would not harm him. And he would have been brought to show a proper respect as well. Two or three of us, carefully selected, would have taken Moiraine’s place advising and guiding him. Including Alanna, of course.”

“How do you know he did not kill Moiraine,” Bera interrupted, “as he is said to have killed Morgase?”

“We have heard every sort of rumor concerning her death,” Kiruna added. “Some even say she died fighting Lanfear. Most say she was alone with al’Thor when she died.”

With an effort, Merana stopped herself from answering. If she allowed those ingrained instincts a word, they would take them all in the end. “All that was in hand,” she went on, “when you two arrived. Only by chance, I know, and only following your instructions to find him, yet you brought our number to thirteen. What man of al’Thor’s sort would not flee as fast as he could hearing of thirteen Aes Sedai together? The simple fact is, whatever damage has been done to our plans must be laid at your feet, Kiruna, and yours, Bera.” She could only wait then. If she had managed to gain any moral ascendancy at all . . .

“Are you quite finished?” Bera said coolly.

Kiruna was even more blunt. She turned to the others. “Faeldrin, you will come with us to Cairhien, if you will. And you also, Masuri, Rafela.”

Merana trembled, the folded letter crumpling in her fist. “Don’t you see?” she shouted. “You talk as if we can go on as before, as if nothing has changed. There is an embassy from Elaida in Cairhien, from the White Tower. That is how al’Thor must see it. We need him more than he needs us, and I fear he knows it!”

For a moment, shock covered every face save Verin’s. Verin only nodded thoughtfully, smiling a small, secretive smile. For a moment, every other face was full of wide eyes, stunned. Those words seemed to ring in the air. We need him more than he needs us. They did not need the Three Oaths to know it for truth.

Then Bera said quite firmly, “Sit down, Merana, and calm yourself.” Merana was sitting before she realized it; still trembling, still wanting to shout, but sitting with her hands clutched together around al’Thor’s missive.

Kiruna turned her back deliberately. “Seonid, you will come, of course. Another pair of Gaidin are always useful. And Verin, I think.” Verin nodded as if it were a request. “Demira,” Kiruna went on, “I know you have grievance against him, but we do not want to panic the man again, and someone must shepherd that extraordinary collection of girls from the Two Rivers to Salidar. You, Valinde, Kairen and Berenicia must assist Merana in that.”

The other four named murmured acceptance without the slightest hesitation, but Merana felt cold. The delegation was not crumbling; it was gone to dust.

“I . . . ” She trailed off as Bera’s gaze turned to her, and Kiruna’s. And Masuri’s and Faeldrin’s and Rafela’s as well. Gone to dust, and all her authority with it. “You may find some need for a Gray,” she said faintly. “There will certainly be negotiations, and . . . ” Words failed her again. This would never have happened when the Tower was whole.

“Very well,” Bera said at last, in such a tone that all Merana’s control only just kept her cheeks from going crimson in shame.

“Demira, you will see the girls to Salidar,” Kiruna said.

Merana sat very still. She prayed that the Hall had chosen an Amyrlin by now. Someone very strong, in the Power and in her heart. It would take another Deane, another Rashima, to make them once more what they had been. She prayed Alanna led them to al’Thor before he decided to acknowledge Elaida. Even another Rashima would not save them then.