“I can’t leave, Elyas. I won’t.”
“I left my life for the wolves. That doesn’t mean you have to.”
“Noam had to,” Perrin said.
“Did he have to?” Elyas said.
“It consumed him. He stopped being human.”
He caught a scent of worry. Elyas had no answers.
“Do you ever visit wolves in your dreams, Elyas?” Perrin asked. “A place where dead wolves run and live again?”
Elyas turned, eyeing him. “That place is dangerous, Perrin. It’s another world, although tied to this one somehow. Legends say the Aes Sedai of old could go there.”
“And other people, too,” Perrin said, thinking of Slayer.
“Be careful in the dream. I stay away from it.” His scent was wary.
“Do you ever have trouble?” Perrin asked. “Separating yourself from the wolf?”
“I used to.”
“But not any longer?”
“I found a balance,” Elyas said.
“How?”
The older man fell still for a moment. “I wish I knew. It was just something I learned, Perrin. Something you’ll have to learn.”
Or end up like Noam. Perrin met Elyas’ golden eyes, then nodded. “Thank you.”
“For the advice?”
“No,” Perrin said. “For coming back. For showing me that one of us, at least, can live with the wolves and not lose himself.”
“It’s nothing,” Elyas said. “I had forgotten that it could be nice to be around people for a change. I don’t know how long I can stay, though. The Last Hunt is almost here.”
Perrin looked up at the sky again. “That it is. Pass the word on to Tam and the others for me. I’ve made my decision. The Whitecloaks have picked a place to fight. I’ve decided to go ahead and meet them tomorrow.”
“All right,” Elyas said. “You don’t smell like you want to do it, though.”
“It needs to be done,” Perrin said. “And that’s that.” Everyone wanted him to be a lord. Well, this was the sort of thing lords did. Made decisions that nobody wanted to make.
It would still sicken him to give the order. He’d seen a vision of those wolves running sheep toward a beast. It seemed to him that maybe that was what he was doing, running the Whitecloaks toward destruction. They certainly wore the color of sheep’s wool.
But what to make of the vision of Faile and the others, approaching a cliff? Elyas moved off, leaving Perrin with the axe still on his shoulder. He felt as if he hadn’t been chopping logs, but bodies.
Chapter 25
Return to Bandar Eban
Rand and Min did not announce themselves as they came to Bandar Eban. They stepped through the gateway into a small alley, guarded by two Maidens—Lerian and Heidia—along with Naeff, the tall, square-chinned Asha’man.
The Maidens scouted to the end of the alleyway, peering suspiciously at the city. Rand stepped forward and laid a hand on Heidia’s shoulder, calming the slender woman, who seemed anxious at Rand’s guard being so few. He wore his brown cloak.
Overhead, the clouds broke, melting away above the city in response to Rand’s arrival. Min looked upward, feeling the warmth shine on her face. The alley smelled terrible—of refuse and waste—but a warm breeze blew through, carrying the stenches away.
“My Lord Dragon,” Naeff said. “I don’t like this. You should have greater protection. Let us return and gather—”
“It will be fine, Naeff,” Rand said. He turned to Min and held out his hand.
She took it, joining him. Naeff and the Maidens had orders to follow behind at a distance; they would draw attention.
As Min and Rand stepped out onto one of the Domani capital’s many boardwalks, she raised a hand to her mouth. It had only been a short time since Rand’s departure. How had the city changed so quickly?
The street was full of sickly, dirty people, crowded alongside walls, huddled in blankets. There wasn’t room to move on the boardwalks; Min and Rand had to step down into the mud to continue. People coughed and moaned, and she realized the stenches weren’t confined to the alley. The entire city seemed to stink. Once, banners had hung from many of these buildings, but they’d been pulled down and ripped apart for blankets or fuel.
Most of the buildings had broken windows, with refugees clogging the doorways and floors inside. As Min and Rand walked, the people around them turned to watch. Some looked delirious. Others looked hungry. And dangerous. Many were Domani, but there seemed to be as many paler-skinned people. Refugees from Almoth Plain or Saldaea, perhaps. Min loosened a knife in her sleeve as they passed a group of young toughs lounging at an alleyway’s mouth. Perhaps Naeff had been right. This didn’t feel safe.
“I walked through Ebou Dar like this,” Rand said softly. Suddenly, she was aware of his pain. A crushing guilt, more hurtful than the wounds in his side. “That was part of what made me change. The people in Ebou Dar were happy and well-fed. They didn’t look like these. The Seanchan rule better than I.”
“Rand, you aren’t responsible for this,” Min said. “You weren’t here to…”
His pain increased, and she realized she’d said the wrong thing. “Yes,” he replied softly, “I wasn’t here. I abandoned this city when I saw that I could not use it as the tool I wished it to be. I forgot, Min. I forgot what this was all about. Tam was so very right. A man must know why he is fighting.”
Rand had sent his father—along with one of the Asha’man—to the Two Rivers to prepare and gather them for the Last Battle.
Rand stumbled as he walked, suddenly looking very tired. He sat down on a nearby box. A copper-skinned urchin watched him keenly from a nearby doorway. Across the street, a roadway branched off the main thoroughfare. That one wasn’t clogged with people; brutish-looking men with cudgels stood at its mouth.
“They break into gangs,” Rand said softly, shoulders bowing. “The rich hire the strong to protect them, to fight away those who come seeking their wealth. But it’s not a wealth of gold or jewelry. It’s about food, now.”
“Rand,” she said, going to one knee beside him. “You can’t—”
“I know I must go on,” Rand said, “but it hurts to know the things that I’ve done, Min. By turning myself to steel, I pushed out all of these emotions. By allowing myself to care again, to laugh again, I’ve had to open myself to my failures, too.”
“Rand, I see sunlight around you.”
He looked up at her, then glanced at the sky.
“Not that sunlight,” Min whispered. “A viewing. I see dark clouds, pushed away by the sunlight’s warmth. I see you, a brilliant white sword held in your hand, wielded against one of black, held by a faceless darkness. I see trees, growing green again, bearing fruit. I see a field, the crops healthy and full.” She hesitated. “I see the Two Rivers, Rand. I see an inn there with the mark of the Dragon’s Fang inlaid on its door. No longer a symbol of darkness or hate. A sign of victory and hope.”
He looked to her.
Min caught something from the corner of her eye. She turned toward the people sitting on the street, and gaped. Every single one had an image above them. It was remarkable to see so many viewings, all at once, flaring to light above the heads of the sickly, the weak, and the abandoned.
“I see a silver axe above that man’s head,” she said, pointing to a bearded beggar, who lay against a wall, his chin down against his chest. “He will be a leader in the Last Battle. That woman there—the one sulking in the shadows—she will be trained by the White Tower and become Aes Sedai. I can see the Flame of Tar Valon beside her, and I know what it means. That man over there who looks like a simple street tough? He will save her life. I know he doesn’t look like it, but he will fight. All of them will. I can see it!”
She looked at Rand and took his hand. “You will be strong, Rand. You’ll do this. You’ll lead them. I know it.”
“You saw that?” he asked. “In a viewing?”
She shook her head. “I don’t need to. I believe in you.”
“I almost killed you,” he whispered. “When you look at me, you see a murderer. You feel my hand at your throat.”
“What? Of course I don’t! Rand, meet my eyes. You can sense me through the bond. Do you feel a sliver of hesitation or fear from me?”
He searched her eyes with his own, so deep. She didn’t back down. She could meet the eyes of this sheepherder.
He sat up straighter. “Oh, Min. What would I do without you?”
She snorted. “You have kings and Aiel chiefs following you. Aes Sedai, Asha’man, and ta’veren. I’m certain you’d get along.”
“No,” Rand said. “You’re more vital than them all. You remind me who I am. Besides, you think more clearly than most of those who call themselves my counselors. You could be a queen, if you wished it.”
“All I wish for is you, stupid looby.”
“Thank you.” He hesitated. “Though I could manage without quite so much name calling.”
“Life’s tough, isn’t it?”
He smiled. Then he stood, taking a deep breath. His guilt was still there, but he managed it now, as he managed the pain. Nearby, the refugees perked up. Rand turned toward the bearded wretch Min had indicated earlier; the man sat with his feet in the mud.
“You,” the man said to Rand, “you’re him. The Dragon Reborn.”
“Yes,” Rand said. “You were a soldier?”
“I…” The man’s eyes grew distant. “Another life. I was in the King’s Guard, before he was taken, before we were seized by Lady Chadmar, then disbanded.” The fatigue seemed to bleed from his eyes as he thought of earlier days.
“Excellent,” Rand said. “We need to restore this city, Captain.”
“Captain?” the man said. “But I…” He cocked his head. Then he stood up and brushed himself off. He suddenly had a faintly military air about him, despite the ripped clothing and the snarled beard. “Well, I suppose you’re right. But I don’t think it’ll be easy. The people are starving.”
“I will see to that,” Rand said. “I need you to gather your soldiers.”
“I don’t see many of the other lads here…. No, wait. There’s Votabek and Redbord.” He waved to a pair of the toughs Min had noticed earlier. They hesitated, then walked over.
“Durnham?” one of them asked. “What’s this?”
“It’s time for the lawlessness in the city to end,” Durnham said. “We’re going to organize things, clean it up. The Lord Dragon has returned.”
One of them spat to the side. He was a burly man with curly black hair, Domani skin, and a thin mustache. “Burn him. He left us. I—” He cut off as he saw Rand.
“I’m sorry,” Rand said, meeting the man’s eyes. “I failed you. I will not do so again.”