Rand slung the bundle made from Thom's cloak on his shoulder. “The best thing that could, next to Ingtar coming. Thom Merrilin's alive. And he's here, in Cairhien.”
“The gleeman you told me about?” Loial said. “That is wonderful, Rand. I would like to meet him.”
“Then come with me, if Hurin's willing to keep watch awhile.”
“It would be a pleasure, Lord Rand. ” Hurin took the pipe out of his mouth. “That lot in the common room kept trying to pump me — without letting on what they were doing, of course — about who you are, my Lord, and why we're in Cairhien. I told them we were waiting here to meet friends, but being Cairhienin, they figured I was hiding something deeper.”
“Let them think what they want. Come on, Loial.”
“I think not.” The Ogier sighed. “I really would rather stay here.” He raised a book with a thick finger marking his place. “I can meet Thom Merrilin some other time.”
“Loial, you can't stay cooped up in here forever. We do not even know how long we'll be in Cairhien. Anyway, we didn't see any Ogier. And if we do, they would not be hunting for you, would they?”
“Not hunting, precisely, but ... Rand, I may have been too hasty in leaving Stedding Shangtai the way I did. When I do go home, I may be in a great deal of trouble.” His ears wilted. “Even if I wait until I'm as old as Elder Haman. Perhaps I could find an abandoned stedding to stay in until then.”
“If Elder Haman won't let you come back, you can live in Emond's Field. It's a pretty place.” A beautiful place.
“I am sure it is, Rand, but that would never work. You see —”
“We will talk about it when it comes to that, Loial. Now you are coming to see Thom.”
The Ogier stood half again as tall as Rand, but Rand pushed him into his long tunic and cloak and down the stairs. When they came pounding through the common room, Rand winked at the innkeeper, then laughed at his startled look. Let him think I'm off to play his bloody Great Game. Let him think what he wants. Thom's alive.
Once through the Jangai Gate, in the east wall of the city, everyone seemed to know The Bunch of Grapes. Rand and Loial quickly found themselves there, on a street that was quiet for the Foregate, with the sun halfway down the afternoon sky.
It was an old threestory structure, wooden and rickety, but the common room was clean and full of people. Some men were playing at dice in one corner, and some women at darts in another. Half had the look of Cairhienin, slight and pale, but Rand heard Andoran accents as well as others he did not know. All wore the clothes of the Foregate, though, a blend of the styles of half a dozen countries. A few looked around when he and Loial came in, but they all turned back to what they had been doing.
The innkeeper was a woman with hair as white as Thom's, and sharp eyes that studied Loial as well as Rand. She was not Cairhienin, by her dark skin and her speech. “Thom Merrilin? Aye, he has a room. Top of the stairs, first door on the right. Likely Dena will let you wait for him there” — she eyed Rand's red coat, with its herons on the high collar and golden brambles embroidered up the sleeves, and his sword — “my Lord.”
The stairs creaked under Rand's boots, let alone Loial's. Rand was not sure if the building would stand up much longer. He found the door and knocked, wondering who Dena was.
“Come in,” a woman's voice called. “I cannot open it for you.”
Rand opened the door hesitantly and put his head in. A big, rumpled bed was shoved against one wall, and the rest of the room was all but taken up by a pair of wardrobes, several brassbound trunks and chests, a table and two wooden chairs. The slender woman sitting crosslegged on the bed with her skirts tucked under her was keeping six colored balls spinning in a wheel between her hands.
“Whatever it is,” she said, looking at her juggling, “leave it on the table. Thom will pay you when he comes back.”
“Are you Dena?” Rand asked.
She snatched the balls out of the air and turned to regard him. She was only a handful of years older than he, pretty, with fair Cairhienin skin and dark hair hanging loose to her shoulders. “I do not know you. This is my room, mine and Thom Merrilin's.”
“The innkeeper said you might let us wait here for Thom,” Rand said. “If you're Dena?”
“Us?” Rand moved into the room so Loial could duck inside, and the young woman's eyebrows lifted. “So the Ogier have come back. I am Dena. What do you want?” She looked at Rand's coat so deliberately that the failure to add “my Lord” had to be purposeful, though her brows went up again at the herons on his scabbard and sword hilt.
Rand hefted the bundle he carried. “I've brought Thom back his harp and his flute. And I want to visit with him,” he added quickly; she seemed on the point of telling him to leave them. “I haven't seen him in a long time.”
She eyed the bundle. “Thom always moans about losing the best flute and the best harp he ever had. You would think he was a courtbard, the way he carries on. Very well. You can wait, but I must practice. Thom says he will let me perform in the halls next week.” She rose gracefully and took one of the two chairs, motioning Loial to sit on the bed. “Zera would make Thom pay for six chairs if you broke one of these, friend Ogier.”
Rand gave their names as he sat in the other chair — it creaked alarmingly under even his weight — and asked doubtfully, “Are you Thom's apprentice?”
Dena gave a small smile. “You might say that.” She had resumed her juggling, and her eyes were on the whirling balls.
“I have never heard of a woman gleeman,” Loial said.
“I will be the first.” The one big circle became two smaller, overlapping circles. “I will see the whole world before I am done. Thom says once we have enough money, we will go down to Tear.” She switched to juggling three balls in each hand. “And then maybe out to the Sea Folk's islands. The Atha'an Miere pay gleemen well.”
Rand eyed the room, with all the chests and trunks. It did not look like the room of someone intending to move on soon. There was even a flower growing in a pot on the windowsill. His gaze fell on the single big bed, where Loial was sitting. This is my room, mine and Thom Merrilin's. Dena gave him a challenging look through the large wheel she had resumed. Rand's face reddened.