He took a deep breath. “Is this Rand's doing? I know Lan followed him here, and it all seems odd — the Hunters, and Aiel — but did he do it?”
“I do not think so. I will know more when Lan tells me what he discovers tonight. With luck, what he finds will help with the choice I must make.”
“A choice?”
“Rand could have crossed the river and be on his way to Tear crosscountry. Or he could have taken ship downriver to Illian, meaning to board another there for Tear. The journey is leagues longer that way, but days faster.”
“I don't think we are going to catch him, Moiraine. I don't know how he's doing it, but even afoot he is staying ahead of us. If Lan is right, he is still half a day ahead.”
“I could almost suspect he had learned to Travel,” Moiraine said with a small frown, “except that if he had, he would have gone straight to Tear. No, he has the blood of long walkers and strong runners in him. But we may take the river anyway. If I cannot catch him, I will be in Tear close behind him. Or waiting for him.”
Perrin shifted his feet uneasily; there was cold promise in her voice. “You told me once that you could sense a Darkfriend, one who was far gone into the Shadow, at least. Lan, too. Have you sensed anything like that here?”
She gave a loud sniff and turned back to a tall standing mirror with finely made silverwork set in the legs. Holding her robe closed with one hand, she ran the brush through her hair with the other. “Very few humans are so far gone as that, Perrin, even among the worst Darkfriends.” The brush halted in midstroke. “Why do you ask?”
“There was a girl down in the common room staring at me. Not at you and Loial, like everybody else. At me.”
The brush resumed motion, and a smile briefly touched Moiraine's lips. “You sometimes forget, Perrin, that you are a goodlooking young man. Some girls admire a pair of shoulders.” He grunted and shuffled his feet. “Was there something else, Perrin?”
“Uh... no.” She could not help with Min's viewing, not beyond telling him what he already knew, that it was important. And he did not want to tell her what Min had seen. Or that Min had seen anything, for that matter.
Back out in the hall with the door closed, he leaned against the wall for a moment. Light, just walking in on her like that, and her... She was a pretty woman. And likely old enough to be my mother, or more. He thought Mat would probably have asked her down to the common room to dance. No, he wouldn't. Even Mat isn't fool enough to try charming an Aes Sedai. Moiraine did dance. He had danced with her once himself. And nearly fallen over his own feet with every other step. Stop thinking about her like a village girl just because you saw... She's bloody Aes Sedai! You have that Aiel to worry about. He gave himself a shake and went downstairs.
The common room was full as it could be, with every chair taken, and stools and benches brought in, and those who had nowhere to sit standing along the walls. He did not see the blackhaired girl, and no one else looked at him twice as he hurriedly crossed the room.
Orban occupied a table to himself, his bandaged leg propped up on a chair with a cushion, with a soft slipper on that foot, a silver goblet in his hand, the serving women keeping it filled with wine. “Aye,” he was saying to the whole room, “we knew the Aiel for fierce fighters, Gann and I, but there was no time to hesitate. I drew my sword, and dug my heels into Lion's ribs...”
Perrin gave a start before he realized the man meant his horse was named Lion. Wouldn't put it past him to say he was riding a lion. He felt a little ashamed; just because he did not like the man was no reason to suppose the Hunter would take his boasting that far. He hurried on outside without looking back.
The street in front of the inn was as crowded as inside, with people who could not find a place in the common room peering in through the windows, and twice as many huddling around the doors to listen to Orban's tale. No one glanced at Perrin twice, though his passage brought muttered complaints from those jostled a little further from the door.
Everyone who was out in the night must have been at the inn, for he saw no one as he walked to the square. Sometimes the shadow of a person moved across a lighted window, but that was all. He had the feel of being watched, though, and looked around uneasily. Nothing but nightcloaked streets dotted with glowing windows. Around the square, most of the windows were dark except a few on upper floors.
The gibbet stood as he remembered, the man — the Aiel — still in the cage, hanging higher than he could reach. The Aiel seemed to be awake — at least his head was up — but he never looked down at Perrin. The stones the children had been throwing were scattered beneath the cage.
The cage hung from a thick rope tied to a ring on one of the upper bars and running through a heavy pulley on the crosspiece down to a pair of stubs, waisthigh from the bottom of the upright on either side. The excess rope lay in a careless tangle of coils at the foot of the gibbet.
Perrin looked around again, searching the dark square. He still had the feel of being watched, but he still saw nothing. He listened, and heard nothing. He smelled chimney smoke and cooking from the houses, and mansweat and old blood from the man in the cage. There was no fear scent from him.
His weight, and then there's the cage, he thought as he moved closer to the gibbet. He did not know when he had decided to do this, or even if he really had decided, but he knew he was going to do it.
Hooking a leg around the heavy upright, he heaved on the rope, hoisting the cage enough to gain a little slack. The way the rope jerked told him the man in the cage had finally moved, but he was in too much of a hurry to stop and tell him what he was doing. The slack let him unwind the rope from around the stubs. Still bracing himself with his leg around the upright, he quickly lowered the cage hand over hand to the paving blocks.
The Aiel was looking at him now, studying him silently. Perrin said nothing. When he got a good look at the cage, his mouth tightened. If a thing was made, even a thing like this, it should be made well. The entire front of the cage was a door, on rude hinges made by a hasty hand, held by a good iron lock on a chain as badly wrought as the cage. He fumbled the chain around until he found the worst link, then jammed the thick spike on his axe through it. A sharp twist of his wrist forced the link open. In seconds he separated the chain, rattled it free, and swung open the front of the cage.
The Aiel sat there, knees yet under his chin, staring at him.
“Well?” Perrin whispered hoarsely. “I opened it, but I'm not going to bloody carry you.” He looked hastily around the nightdark square. Still nothing moved, but he still had the feel of eyes watching.
“You are strong, wetlander.” The Aiel did not move beyond working his shoulders. “It took three men to hoist me up there. And now you bring me down. Why?”
“I don't like seeing people in cages,” Perrin whispered. He wanted to go. The cage was open, and those eyes were watching. But the Aiel was not moving. If you do a thing, do it right. “Will you get out of there before somebody comes?”
The Aiel grasped the frontmost overhead bar of the cage, heaved himself out and to his feet in one motion, then half hung there, supporting himself with his grip on the bar. He would have been nearly a head taller than Perrin, standing straight. He glanced at Perrin's eyes — Perrin knew how they must shine, burnished gold in the moonlight — but he did not mention them. “I have been in there since yesterday, wetlander.” He sounded like Lan. Not that their voices or accents were anything alike, but the Aiel had that same unruffled coolness, that same calm sureness. “It will take a moment for my legs to work. I am Gaul, of the Imran sept of the Shaarad Aiel, wetlander. I am Shae'en M'taal, a Stone Dog. My water is yours.”
“Well, I am Perrin Aybara. Of the Two Rivers. I'm a blacksmith.” The man was out of the cage; he could go now. Only, if anyone came along before Gaul could walk, he would be right back into the cage unless they killed him, and either way would waste Perrin's work. “If I had thought, I'd have brought a waterbottle, or a skin. Why do you call me 'wetlander'?”
Gaul gestured toward the river; even Perrin's eyes could not be sure in the moonlight, but he thought the Aiel looked uneasy for the first time. “Three days ago, I watched a girl sporting in a huge pool of water. It must have been twenty paces across. She... pulled herself out into it.” He made an awkward swimming gesture with one hand. “A brave girl. Crossing these... rivers... has nearly unmanned me. I never thought there could be such a thing as too much water, but I never thought there was so much water in the world as you wetlanders have.”