Rand fingered the hilt of his sword. “Take Selene. As soon as you see a door — if you do — call out, and I'll follow. If there isn't a door at the end, you will have to lift her so she can reach the top of the wall and climb over.”
“All right, Rand.” Loial sounded worried. “But when we move, those Trollocs will come after us, no matter who is watching. Even if there is a door, they will be on our heels.”
“You let me worry about the Trollocs.” Three of them. I might do it, with the void. The thought of saidin decided him. Too many strange things had happened when he let the male half of the True Source come close. “I will follow as soon as I can. Go.” He turned to peer around the wall at the Trollocs.
From the corner of his eye, he had an impression of Loial's bulk moving, of Selene's white dress, half covered by his cloak. One of the Trollocs beyond the tubes pointed to them excitedly, but still the three hesitated, glancing up at the window where the woman still watched. Three of them. There has to be a way. Not the void. Not saidin.
“There is a door!” came Loial's soft call. One of the Trollocs took a step out of the shadows, and the others followed, gathering themselves. As from a distance, Rand heard the woman at the window cry out, and Loial shouted something.
Without thinking, Rand was on his feet. He had to stop the Trollocs somehow, or they would run him down, and Loial and Selene. He snatched one of the smoldering sticks and hurled himself at the nearest tube. It tilted, started to fall over, and he caught the square wooden base; the tube pointed straight at the Trollocs. They slowed uncertainly — the woman at the window screamed — and Rand touched the smoking end of the stick to the fuse right where it joined the tube.
The hollow thump came immediately, and the thick wooden base slammed against him, knocking him down. A roar like a thunderclap broke the night and a blinding burst of light tore away the dark.
Blinking, Rand staggered his feet, coughing in thick, acrid smoke, ears ringing. He stared in amazement. Half the tubes and all of the racks lay on their sides, and one corner of the building beside which the Trollocs had stood was simply gone, flames licking at ends of planks and rafters. Of the Trollocs there was no sign.
Through the ringing in his ears, Rand heard shouts from the Illuminators in the building. He broke into a tottering run, lumbered into the alley. Halfway down it he stumbled over something and realized it was his cloak. He snatched it up without pausing. Behind him, the cries of the Illuminators filled the night.
Loial was bouncing impatiently on his feet beside the open door. And he was alone.
“Where is Selene?” Rand demanded.
“She went back, Rand. I tried to grab her, and she slipped right out of my hands.”
Rand turned back toward the noise. Through the incessant sound in his ears, some of the shouts were barely distinguishable. There was light there, now, from the flames.
“The sand buckets! Fetch the sand buckets quickly!”
“This is disaster! Disaster!”
“Some of them went that way!”
Loial grabbed Rand's shoulder. “You cannot help her, Rand. Not by being taken yourself. We must go.” Someone appeared at the end of the alley, a shadow outlined by the glow of flames behind, and pointed toward them. “Come on, Rand!”
Rand let himself be pulled out of the door into the darkness. The fire faded behind them until it was only a glow in the night, and the lights of the Foregate came closer. Rand almost wished more Trollocs would appear, something he could fight. But there was only the night breeze ruffling the grass.
“I tried to stop her,” Loial said. There was a long silence. “We really couldn't have done anything. They would just have taken us, too.”
Rand sighed. “I know, Loial. You did what you could.” He walked backwards a few steps, staring at the glow. It seemed less; the Illuminators must be putting out the flames. “I have to help her somehow.” How? Saidin? The Power? He shivered. “I have to.”
They went through the Foregate by the lighted streets, wrapped in a silence that shut out the gaiety around them.
When they entered The Defender of the Dragonwall, the innkeeper held out his tray with a sealed parchment.
Rand took it, and stared at the white seal. A crescent moon and stars. “Who left this? When?”
“An old woman, my Lord. Not a quarter of an hour gone. A servant, though she did not say from what House.” Cuale smiled as if inviting confidences.
“Thank you,” Rand said, still staring at the seal. The innkeeper watched them go upstairs with a thoughtful look.
Hurin took his pipe out of his mouth when Rand and Loial entered the room. Hurin had his short sword and swordbreaker on the table, wiping them with an oily rag. “You were long with the gleeman, my Lord. Is he well?”
Rand gave a start. “What? Thom? Yes, he's...” He broke open the seal with his thumb and read.
When I think I know what you are going to do, you do something else. You are a dangerous man. Perhaps it will not he long before we are together again. Think of the Horn. Think of the glory. And think of me, for you are always mine.
Again, it bore no signature but the flowing hand itself.
“Are all women crazy?” Rand demanded of the ceiling. Hurin shrugged. Rand threw himself into the other chair, the one sized for an Ogier; his feet dangled above the floor, but he did not care. He stared at the blanketcovered chest under the edge of Loial's bed. Think of the glory. “I wish Ingtar would come.”