She resisted the urge to glance back at the tent. What would happen if she didn’t bring it to Mat in time?
"There is another option", Setalle said hesitantly.
Faile looked to her.
"That peak you see to the east of us", Setalle said, speaking with obvious reluctance. "That is Shayol Ghul".
Mandevwin whispered something quietly that Faile didn’t catch, squeezing his eyes shut. The others looked sick. Faile, however, caught Setalle’s implication.
"That is where the Dragon Reborn is making war against the Shadow", Faile said. "One of our armies will be there. With channelers who could get us out".
"Indeed", Setalle said. "And the area just around Shayol Ghul is known as the Blasted Lands, lands that the horrors of the Blight are said to avoid".
"Because it’s so terrible!" Arrela said. "If they don’t go there, it’s because they fear the Dark One himself!"
"The Dark One and his armies might have their attention on the fighting", Faile said slowly, nodding her head. "We can’t survive long in the Blight—we’ll be dead before the week is out. But if the Blasted Lands are free of those horrors, and if we can reach our armies there . . ".
It seemed a far better hope—slim though it was—than trying to march for months in the most dangerous place in the world. She told the others she’d consider what to do and dismissed them.
Her advisors moved off to make their bedrolls, Mandevwin going to check the men on watch. Faile remained staring at the embers of the fire, feeling sick.
Someone did kill Berisha, she thought. I’m certain of it. The gateway’s location really could have been an accident. Accidents happened, even to Aes Sedai, no matter what Setalle thought. But if there was a Darkfriend in the caravan, one who had ducked through the opening and seen that it went to the Blight, they could have easily decided to kill Berisha in order to leave the Horn and the caravan stranded.
"Setalle", Faile said as the woman passed, "a word".
Setalle sat down beside Faile, wearing a composed expression. "I know what you’re going to ask".
"How long has it been", Faile asked, "since you were in the White Tower?"
"It has been decades now".
"Are you capable of making a gateway?"
Setalle laughed. "Child, I couldn’t light a candle. I was burned out in an accident. I haven’t held the One Power in over twenty-five years".
"I see", Faile said. "Thank you".
Setalle moved off, and Faile found herself wondering. How truthful was her story? Setalle had been very helpful in their days together, and Faile couldn’t blame the woman for keeping secret her ties to the White Tower. In any other situation, Faile wouldn’t have given the woman’s story a moment of doubt.
However, there was no way out here to confirm what she said. If Setalle was Black Ajah in hiding, her story about being burned out could simply be that—a story. Perhaps she could still channel. Or perhaps she couldn’t, but had been stilled as a punishment. Could this woman be an escaped prisoner of the most dangerous type, an agent who had waited decades for the right moment to strike?
Setalle had been the one to suggest they go to Shayol Ghul. Was she seeking to bring the Horn to her master?
Feeling cold, Faile entered her tent as several members of Cha Faile set up watch around it. Faile wrapped herself in her bedroll. She knew that she was being overly suspicious. But how else was she to be, considering the circumstances?
Light, she thought. The Horn of Valere, lost in the Blight. A nightmare.
Aviendha knelt on one knee beside the smoldering corpse, holding her angreal—the turtle brooch that Elayne had given her. She breathed through her mouth as she gazed down on the man’s face.
There were a surprising number of these red-veils. Whatever their origins, they were not Aiel. They did not follow ji’e’toh. During the night’s fighting, she had seen two Maidens take a man captive. He had acted like gai’shain, but had then killed one from behind with a hidden knife.
"Well?" Sarene asked, breathless. While those at the Field of Merrilor rested and prepared for their challenge ahead, this battle at Shayol Ghul continued. The red-veil attack had lasted all through the night, the following day and now into the night again.
"I think I knew him", Aviendha said, disturbed. "He channeled for the first time when I was a child, making algode grow when it should not". She let the veil fall down on his face. "His name was Soro. He was kind to me. I watched him run across the dry ground at sunset after vowing to spit in Sightblinder’s eye".
"I'm sorry", Sarene said, though her voice was uncolored by any sympathy. Aviendha was growing accustomed to that in the woman. It wasn’t that Sarene didn’t care; she just didn’t let caring distract her. At least, not when her Warder was elsewhere. The Aes Sedai would have made a fine Maiden.
"Let’s keep moving", Aviendha said, taking off with her pack of channelers. During the days and nights of fighting, Aviendha’s team had shifted, melded and split as women needed rest. Aviendha herself had slept sometime during the day.
By common agreement, the one leading the circle avoided drawing on her own power—thus Aviendha was still at reasonable strength, despite so many hours of fighting. This allowed her to remain alert, on the hunt. The other women became wells of power to be drawn upon.
She had to be careful not to drain them too far. Tire a woman, and she could sleep for a few hours and be back up to fight again. Drain her completely, and she could be useless for days. At the moment, Aviendha had Flinn and three Aes Sedai with her. She had learned the weave to tell her when a man was channeling nearby—it was moving through the Aes Sedai and Wise Ones—but having a male channeler with her was far more useful.
Flinn pointed toward some flashes of fire on the side of the valley. They loped in that direction, passing corpses and places where the ground smoldered. With the growing light of dawn, Aviendha could see through the cold mist that Darlin’s forces still held the mouth of the valley.
The Trollocs had pushed forward to the low earthen mounds that Ituralde had built. Killing had been done there on both sides. The Trollocs had taken far more losses—but then, they were also far more numerous. It seemed from her quick glance that they had overrun one of the earthen bulwarks, but Domani riders had come in from the reserves an
