“Do not try to bandy words with her.” Gawyn laughed. “She will win every time.”
Rand nodded absently. Handsome? Light, the DaughterHeir to the throne of Andor! He gave himself a shake to clear his head.
Gawyn seemed to be waiting for something. Rand looked at him for a moment.
“My Lord, when I told you I was from the Two Rivers you were surprised. And everybody else, your mother, Lord Gareth, Elaida Sedai” — a shiver ran down his back — “none of them ...” He could not finish it; he was not even sure why he started. I am Tam al'Thor's son, even if I was not born in the Two Rivers.
Gawyn nodded as if it was for this he had been waiting. Still he hesitated. Rand opened his mouth to take back the unspoken question, and Gawyn said, “Wrap a shoufa around your head, Rand, and you would be the image of an Aielman. Odd, since Mother seems to think you sound like a Two Rivers man, at least. I wish we could have come to know one another, Rand al'Thor. Fare you well.”
An Aielman.
Rand stood watching Gawyn's retreating back until an impatient cough from Tallanvor reminded him where he was. He ducked through the sallyport, barely clearing his heels before Tallanvor slammed it behind him. The bars inside were jammed into place loudly.
The oval plaza in front of the Palace was empty, now. All the soldiers gone, all the crowds, trumpets, and drums vanished in silence. Nothing left but a scattering of litter blowing across the pavement and a few people hurrying about their business now that the excitement was done. He could not make out if they showed the red or the white.
Aielman.
With a start he realized he was standing right in front of the Palace gates, right where Elaida could find him easily once she finished with the Queen. Pulling his cloak close, he broke into a trot, across the plaza and into the streets of the Inner City. He looked back frequently to see if anyone was following him, but the sweeping curves kept him from seeing very far. He could remember Elaida's eyes all too well, though, and imagined them watching. By the time he reached the gates to the New City, he was running.
Chapter 41
Old Friends, and New Threats
Back at The Queen's Blessing, Rand threw himself against the front doorframe, panting. He had run all the way, not caring if anyone saw that he wore the red, or even if they took his running as an excuse to chase him. He did not think even a Fade could have caught him.
Lamgwin was sitting on a bench by the door, a brindle cat in his arms, when he came running up. The man stood to look for trouble the way Rand had come, still calmly scratching behind the cat's ears. Seeing nothing, he sat back down again, careful not to disturb the animal. “Fools tried to steal some of the cats a while back,” he said. He examined his knuckles before going back to his scratching. “Good money in cats these days.”
The two men showing the white were still across the way, Rand saw, one with a black eye and a swollen jaw. That one wore a sour scowl and rubbed his sword hilt with a sullen eagerness as he watched the inn.
“Where's Master Gill?” Rand asked.
“Library,” Lamgwin replied. The cat began purring, and he grinned. “Nothing bothers a cat for long, not even somebody trying to stick him in a sack.”
Rand hurried inside, through the common room, now with its usual complement of men wearing the red and talking over their ale. About the false Dragon, and whether the Whitecloaks would make trouble when he was taken north. No one cared what happened to Logain, but they all knew the DaughterHeir and Lord Gawyn would be traveling in the party, and no man there would countenance any risk to them.
He found Master Gill in the library, playing stones with Loial. A plump tabby sat on the table, feet tucked under her, watching their hands move over the crosshatched board.
The Ogier placed another stone with a touch oddly delicate for his thick fingers. Shaking his head, Master Gill took the excuse of Rand's appearance to turn from the table. Loial almost always won at stones. “I was beginning to worry where you were, lad. Thought you might have had trouble with some of those whiteflashing traitors, or run into that beggar or something. ”
For a minute Rand stood there with his mouth open. He had forgotten all about that bundleofrags of a man. “I saw him,” he said finally, “but that's nothing. I saw the Queen, too, and Elaida; that's where the trouble is. ”
Master Gill snorted a laugh. “The Queen, eh? You don't say. We had Gareth Bryne out in the common room an hour or so ago, armwrestling the Lord CaptainCommander of the Children, but the Queen, now ... that's something.”
“Blood and ashes,” Rand growled, “everybody thinks I'm lying today.” He tossed his cloak across the back of a chair and threw himself onto another. He was too wound up to sit back. He perched on the front edge, mopping his face with a handkerchief. “I saw the beggar, and he saw me, and I thought ... That's not important. I climbed up on a wall around a garden, where I could see the plaza in front of the Palace, where they took Logain in. And I fell off, on the inside.”
“I almost believe you aren't making fun,” the innkeeper said slowly.
“Ta'veren, ” Loial murmured.
“Oh, it happened,” Rand said. “Light help me, it did.”
Master Gill's skepticism melted slowly as he went on, turning to quiet alarm. The innkeeper leaned more and more forward until he was perched on the edge of his chair the same as Rand was. Loial listened impassively, except that every so often he rubbed his broad nose and the tufts on his ears gave a little twitch.
Rand told everything that had happened, everything except what Elaida had whispered to him. And what Gawyn had said at the Palace gate. One he did not want to think about; the other had nothing to do with anything. I'm Tam al'Thor's son, even if I wasn't born in the Two Rivers. I am! I'm Two Rivers blood, and Tam is my father.
Abruptly he realized he had stopped talking, caught up in his thoughts, and they were looking at him. For one panicky moment he wondered if he had said too much.
“Well,” Master Gill said, "there's no more waiting for your friends for you. You will have to leave the city, and fast. Two days at the most. Can you get Mat on his feet in that time, or should I send for Mother Grubb?'