The underofficer looked around in scornful disbelief. “The Dragon's Fang — ”
“Won't help you five,” Master Gill finished for him. He held up a clenched fist and raised his forefinger. “One.”
“You must be mad, innkeeper, threatening the Children of the Light.”
“Whitecloaks hold no writ in Caemlyn. Two.”
“Can you really believe this will end here?”
“Three. ”
“We'll be back,” the underofficer snapped, and then he was hastily turning his men around, trying to pretend he was leaving in good order and in his own time. He was hampered in this by the eagerness his men showed for the door, not running, but not making secret that they wanted to be outside.
Lamgwin stood across the door with his sword, only giving way in response to Master Gill's frantic waves. When the Whitecloaks were gone, the innkeeper dropped heavily onto a chair. He rubbed a hand across his forehead, then stared at it as if surprised that it was not covered with sweat. All over the room men seated themselves again, laughing over what they had done. Some went over to clap Master Gill on the shoulder.
When he saw Rand, the innkeeper tottered off the chair and over to him. “Who would have thought I had it in me to be a hero?” he said wonderingly. “The Light illumine me.” Abruptly he gave himself a shake, and his voice regained almost its normal tone. “You'll have to stay out of sight until I can get you out of the city.” With a careful look back into the common room, he pushed Rand deeper into the hall. “That lot will be back, or else a few spies wearing red for the day. After that little show I put on, I doubt they'll care whether you're here or not, but they'll act as though you are.”
“That's crazy,” Rand protested. At the innkeeper's gesture he lowered his voice. “The Whitecloaks don't have any reason to be after me.”
“I don't know about reasons, lad, but they're after you and Mat for certain sure. What have you been up to? Elaida and the Whitecloaks.”
Rand raised his hands in protest, then let them fall. It made no sense, but he had heard the Whitecloak. “What about you? The Whitecloaks will make trouble for you even when they don't find us.”
“No worries about that, lad. The Queen's Guards still uphold the law, even if they do let traitors strut around showing white. As for the night ... well, Lamgwin and his friends might not get much sleep, but I could almost pity anybody who tries to put a mark on my door.”
Gilda appeared beside them, dropping a curtsy to Master Gill. “Sir, there's... there's a lady. In the kitchens.” She sounded scandalized at the combination. “She's asking for Master Rand, sir, and Master Mat, by name. ”
Rand exchanged a puzzled look with the innkeeper.
“Lad,” Master Gill said, “if you've actually managed to bring the Lady Elayne down from the Palace to my inn, we'll all end up facing the headsman.” Gilda squeaked at the mention of the DaughterHeir and gave Rand a roundeyed stare. “Off with you, girl,” the innkeeper said sharply. “And keep quiet about what you've heard. It's nobody's business.” Gilda bobbed again and darted down the hallway, flashing glances over her shoulder at Rand as she went. “In five minutes” — Master Gill sighed — “she will be telling the other women you're a prince in disguise. By nightfall it will be all over the New City.”
“Master Gill,” Rand said, “I never mentioned Mat to Elayne. It can't be — ” Suddenly a huge smile lit up his face, and he ran for the kitchens.
“Wait!” the innkeeper called behind him. “Wait until you know. Wait, you fool!”
Rand threw open the door to the kitchens, and there they were.
Moiraine rested her serene eyes on him, unsurprised. Nynaeve and Egwene ran laughing to throw their arms around him, with Perrin crowding in behind them, all three patting his shoulders as if they had to be convinced that he was really there. In the doorway leading to the stableyard Lan lounged with one boot up on the doorframe, dividing his attention between the kitchen and the yard outside.
Rand tried to hug the two women and shake Perrin's hand, all at the same time, and it was a tangle of arms and laughter complicated by Nynaeve trying to feel his face for fever. They looked somewhat the worse for wear — bruises on Perrin's face, and he had a way of keeping his eyes downcast that he had never had before — but they were alive, and together again. His throat was so tight he could barely talk. “I was afraid I'd never see you again,” he managed finally. “I was afraid you were all ...”
“I knew you were alive,” Egwene said against his chest. “I always knew it. Always.”
“I did not,” Nynaeve said. Her voice was sharp for just that moment, but it softened in the next, and she smiled up at him. “You look well, Rand. Not overfed by any means, but well, thank the Light.”
“Well,” Master Gill said behind him, “I guess you know these people after all. Those friends you were looking for?”
Rand nodded. “Yes, my friends.” He made introductions all around; it still felt odd to be giving Lan and Moiraine their right names. They both eyed him sharply when he did.
The innkeeper greeted everyone with an open smile, but he was properly impressed at meeting a Warder, and especially at Moiraine. At her he gaped openly — it was one thing knowing an Aes Sedai had been helping the boys, quite something else having her appear in the kitchen — then bowed deeply. “You are welcome to The Queen's Blessing, Aes Sedai, as my guest. Though I suppose you will be staying at the Palace with Elaida Sedai, and the Aes Sedai who came with the false Dragon.” Bowing again, he gave Rand a quick, worried look. It was all very well to say he did not speak ill of Aes Sedai, but that was not the same as saying he wanted one sleeping under his roof.
Rand nodded encouragingly, trying to tell him silently that it was all right. Moiraine was not like Elaida, with a threat hidden behind every glance, under every word. Are you sure? Even now, are you sure?
“I believe I will stay here,” Moiraine said, “for the short time I remain in Caemlyn. And you must allow me to pay.”
A calico cat sauntered in from the hallway to strop the innkeeper's ankles. No sooner had the calico begun than a fuzzy gray sprang from under the table, arching its back and hissing. The calico crouched with a threatening growl, and the gray streaked past Lan into the stableyard.
Master Gill began apologizing for the cats at the same time he protested that Moiraine would honor him by being his guest, and was she sure she would not prefer the Palace, which he would quite understand, but he hoped she would accept his best room as a gift. It made a jumble to which Moiraine seemed to pay no attention at all. Instead she bent down to scratch the orangeandwhite cat; it promptly left Master Gill's ankles for hers.