The Gathering Storm - By Robert Jordan & Brandon Sanderson Page 0,192

the others were working to protect the Aiel, and Aviendha sat and moved drops of water!

“Are you all right?” a voice asked.

Aviendha started, looking up, reaching for her knife so abruptly that she nearly spilled the pails of water. A woman with short, dark hair stood in the shade of the building a short distance away. Min Farshaw’s arms were folded and she wore a coat the color of cobalt with silver embroidery. She wore a scarf at her neck.

Aviendha settled back down, releasing her knife. Now she was letting wetlanders sneak up on her? “I am well,” she said, struggling to keep from blushing.

Her tone and actions should have indicated that she didn’t wish to be shamed by conversation, but Min didn’t seem to notice that. The woman turned and looked out over the camp. “Don’t . . . you have anything to be doing?”

Aviendha could not suppress the blush this time. “I am doing what I should.”

Min nodded, and Aviendha forced herself to still her breathing. She could not afford to grow angry at this woman. Her first-sister had asked her to be kind to Min. She decided not to take offense. Min didn’t know what she was saying.

“I thought that I could talk to you,” Min said, still looking out at the camp. “I’m not sure who else I could approach. I don’t trust the Aes Sedai, and neither does he. I’m not sure he trusts anyone, now. Maybe not even me.”

Aviendha glanced to the side, and saw that Min was watching Rand al’Thor as he moved through the camp, wearing a coat of black, gold-red hair ablaze in the afternoon light. He seemed to tower over the Saldaeans who attended him.

Aviendha had heard about the events the night before, when he had been attacked by Semirhage. One of the Shadowsouled themselves; Aviendha wished she had seen the creature before she was killed. She shuddered.

Rand al’Thor had fought and won. Though he acted the fool much of the time, he was a skilled—and lucky—warrior. Who else alive could claim to have personally defeated as many of the Shadowsouled as he had? There was much honor in him.

His fight had left him scarred in ways she did not yet understand. She could feel his pain. She’d felt it during Semirhage’s attack, too, though at first she’d mistakenly thought it to be a nightmare. She’d quickly realized that she was wrong. No nightmare could be that terrible. She could still feel echoes of that incredible pain, those waves of agony, the frenzy inside of him.

Aviendha had raised the alarm, but not quickly enough. She had toh to him for her mistake; she would deal with that once she was finished with her punishments. If she ever did finish.

“Rand al’Thor will deal with his problems,” she said, dripping more water.

“How can you say that?” Min asked, glancing at her. “Can’t you feel his pain?”

“I feel each and every moment of it,” Aviendha said through gritted teeth. “But he must face his own trials, just as I face mine. Perhaps there will be a day when he and I can face ours together, but that time is not now.”

I must be his equal, first, she added in her head. I will not stand beside him as his inferior.

Min studied her, and Aviendha felt a chill, wondering what visions the woman saw. Her predictions of the future were said always to come true.

“You are not what I expected,” Min finally said.

“I have deceived you?” Aviendha said, frowning.

“No, not that,” Min said with a small laugh. “I mean, I was wrong about you, I guess. I wasn’t certain what to think, after that night in Caemlyn when . . . well, that night when we bonded Rand together. I feel close to you, yet distant from you at the same time.” She shrugged. “I guess I expected you to come looking for me the moment you got into camp. We had things to discuss. When you didn’t, I worried. I thought perhaps I had offended you.”

“You have no toh to me,” Aviendha said.

“Good,” Min said. “I still worry sometimes that we’ll . . . come to a confrontation.”

“And what good would a confrontation serve?”

“I don’t know,” Min said with a shrug. “I figured it would be the Aiel way. Challenge me to a fight of honor. For him.”

Aviendha snorted. “Fight over a man? Who would do such a thing? If you had toh toward me, perhaps I could demand that we dance the