“I see your sorrow, my husband,” Faile said, walking beside him, hand on his arm. “What happened?”
“I lost a friend,” Perrin said softly. “For the second time.”
“Hopper?” She smelled fearful.
“Yes.”
“Oh, Perrin, I’m sorry.” Her voice was tender as they stepped out of the tent. It stood, alone, on the meadow that had once held his forces. The brown and yellow grass still bore the impressions of tents, paths worn down to the mud in a large crisscross pattern. It looked like a layout for a town, sections stamped down for buildings, lines cut to become roadways. But it was nearly empty of people now.
The rumbling sky was dark. Chiad held a lantern up to illuminate the grass in front of them. Several groups of soldiers waited. Maidens raised their spears high when they saw him, then banged them on their shields. A sign of approval.
The Two Rivers men were there as well, gathering around as word spread. How much could they guess of what he’d done tonight? Two Rivers men cheered, and Perrin nodded to them, though he felt on edge. The wrongness was still there, in the air. He’d assumed that the dreamspike was causing it, but he had apparently been wrong. The air smelled like the Blight.
The Asha’man stood where the center of the camp had once stood. They turned when Perrin approached, saluting, hands to chests. They looked to be in good shape, despite just having moved almost the entire camp.
“Get us out of here, men,” Perrin said to them. “I don’t want to spend another minute in this place.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Grady said, sounding eager. He got a look of concentration on his face, and a small gateway opened beside him.
“Through,” Perrin said, waving to the Two Rivers men. They crossed with a quick step. The Maidens and Gaul waited with Perrin, as did Elyas.
Light, Perrin thought, scanning the field where they’d camped. I feel like a mouse being eyed by a hawk.
“I don’t suppose you could give us some light,” Perrin said to Neald, standing beside the gateway.
The Asha’man cocked his head, and a group of glowing globes appeared around him. They zipped up into the air around the meadow.
They illuminated nothing. Just the abandoned campsite. The last of the troops finally filed through. Perrin and Faile crossed, Gaul, Elyas and the Maidens going after him. Finally, the channelers passed through, walking in a cluster.
The air on the other side of the gateway was cool, and smelled refreshingly clean. Perrin hadn’t realized how much the evil smell had been bothering him. He inhaled deeply. They were on a rise, some distance from a splash of lights beside the river that was probably Whitebridge.
His troops cheered as he stepped through. The great camp was already mostly set up, guard posts in place. The gateway had been opened into a large area, marked off with posts, near the back.
They’d escaped. The cost had been great, but they’d escaped.
Graendal sat back in her chair. The leather cushions were stuffed with the down of the fledgling kallir, which during this Age lived only in Shara. She barely noticed the luxury.
The servant—one Moridin had loaned her—was on one knee before her. His eyes were tempestuous, and only half-lowered. This one was under control, but barely. He knew he was unique.
He also seemed to know that his failure would fall upon her shoulders. Graendal did not sweat. She was too controlled for that. The shutters on the window in the wide, red-tiled room burst open suddenly, a cold sea wind blowing through the chamber and putting out several of the lamps. Tendrils of smoke wove up from their wicks.
She would not fail.
“Prepare to spring the trap anyway,” she commanded.
“But—” the servant said.
“Do it, and do not speak back to one of the Chosen, dog.”
The servant lowered his eyes, though there was still a rebellious spark to them.
Never mind. She still had one tool left to her, one she had positioned so very carefully. One she had prepared for a moment such as this.
It had to be done carefully. Aybara was ta’veren, and so strongly one as to be frightening. Arrows fired from afar would miss, and in a time of peaceful contemplation, he would be alerted and escape.
She needed a tempest with him at the center of it. And then, the blade would fall. This is not done yet, Fallen Blacksmith. Not by an inch or by a league.
Chapter 39
In the Three-fold Land
Aviendha felt right again.
There was a calming perfection to the Three-fold Land. Wetlanders thought the landscape’s uniform colors drab, but Aviendha found them beautiful. Simple browns and tans. They were familiar and dependable, not like the wetlands, where both the landscape and the weather were different every time you turned around.
Aviendha ran forward in the darkening night, each foot falling on dusty ground. For the first time in many months, she felt alone. In the wetlands, she always felt as if she was being watched by some enemy she could not see or attack.
Not that the Three-fold Land was safer. Far from it. That shadowed patch beneath the nadra-scrub was the den of a lethal snake. If one brushed the spindly branches, the snake would strike; she had seen five men die from those bites. The den was merely one of the many hazards she passed during her run to Rhuidean. But those dangers were understandable. She could see them, measure them and avoid them. If she died from the snake’s bite or fell to the land’s heat, the fault would be her own.
It was always preferable to face the enemy or the danger you could see than to fear the one that hid behind the faces of lying wetlanders.
She continued running, despite the dimming light. It was good to sweat again. People didn’t sweat enough in the wetlands; perhaps that was what made them so unusual. Instead of letting the sun warm them, they sought refreshment. Instead of going to a proper sweat tent to get clean, they submersed themselves in water. That couldn’t be healthy.
She would not lie to herself. Aviendha herself had partaken of those luxuries, and she had come to enjoy those baths and the fine dresses Elayne forced upon her. One had to acknowledge one’s weaknesses before one could defeat them. Now, as she ran across the gently sloping earth of the Three-fold Land, Aviendha’s perspective was restored.
Finally, she slowed. As tempting as it was to travel in the dark and sleep through the day’s heat, it was not wise. A misstep in the dark could end your life. She quickly collected some dead tak-brush and some ina’ta bark, then made herself a camp at the si
