“Do not let the Horn seize you, Rand,” Agelmar said. “It can take hold of a man — I know how it can — and that is not the way. A man must seek duty, not glory. What will happen, will happen. If the Horn of Valere is meant to be sounded for the Light, then it will be.”
“Here is your Egwene,” Kajin said, spotting her.
Agelmar looked around, and nodded when he saw her with Nisura. “I will leave you in her hands, Rand al'Thor. Remember, here, her words are law, not yours. Lady Nisura, do not be too hard on him. He only wished to see his young woman, and he does not know our ways.”
Egwene followed Nisura as the Shienaran woman threaded her way through the watching women. Nisura inclined her head briefly to Agelmar and Kajin; she pointedly did not include Rand. Her voice was tight. “Lord Agelmar. Lord Kajin. He should know this much of our ways by now, but he is too big to spank, so I will let Egwene deal with him.”
Agelmar gave Rand a fatherly pat on the shoulder. “You see. You will speak with her, if not exactly in the way you wished. Come, Kajin. We have much to see to yet. The Amyrlin still insists on ...” His voice trailed away as he and the other man left. Rand stood there, looking at Egwene.
The women were still watching, Egwene realized. Watching her as well as Rand. Waiting to see what she would do. So I'm supposed to deal with him, am I? Yet she felt her heart going out to him. His hair needed brushing. His face showed anger, defiance, and weariness. “Walk with me,” she told him. A murmur started up behind them as he walked down the hall beside her, away from the women's apartments. Rand seemed to be struggling with himself, hunting for what to say.
“I've heard about your ... exploits,” she said finally. “Running through the women's apartments last night with a sword. Wearing a sword to an audience with the Amyrlin Seat.” He still said nothing, only walked along frowning at the floor. “She didn't ... hurt you, did she?” She could not make herself ask if he had been gentled; he looked anything but gentle, but she had no idea what a man looked like afterwards.
He gave a jerk. “No. She didn't ... Egwene, the Amyrlin ...” He shook his head. “She didn't hurt me.”
She had the feeling he had been going to say something else entirely. Usually she could ferret out whatever he wanted to hide from her, but when he really wanted to be stubborn, she could more easily dig a brick out of a wall with her fingernails. By the set of his jaw, he was at his most stubborn right now.
“What did she want with you, Rand?”
“Nothing important. Ta'veren. She wanted to see ta'veren. ” His face softened as he looked down at her. “What about you, Egwene? Are you all right? Moiraine said you would be, but you were so still. I thought you were dead, at first.”
“Well, I'm not.” She laughed. She could not remember anything that had happened after she had asked Mat to go to the dungeons with her, not until waking in her own bed that morning. From what she had heard of the night, she was almost glad she could not remember. “Moiraine said she would have left me a headache for being foolish if she could have Healed the rest and not that, but she couldn't.”
“I told you Fain was dangerous,” he muttered. “I told you, but you wouldn't listen.”
“If that's the way you are going to talk,” she said firmly, “I will give you back to Nisura. She won't talk to you the way I am. The last man who tried to push his way into the women's apartments spent a month up to his elbows in soapy water, helping with the women's laundry, and he was only trying to find his betrothed and make up an argument. At least he knew enough not to wear his sword. The Light knows what they'd do to you.”
“Everybody wants to do something to me,” he growled. “Everybody wants to use me for something. Well, I won't be used. Once we find the Horn, and Mat's dagger, I'll never be used again.”
With an exasperated grunt, she caught his shoulders and made him face her. She glared up at him. “If you don't start talking sense, Rand al'Thor, I swear I will box your ears.”
“Now you sound like Nynaeve.” He laughed. As he looked down at her, though, his laughter faded. “I suppose — I suppose I'll never see you again. I know you have to go to Tar Valon. I know that. And you'll become an Aes Sedai. I am done with Aes Sedai, Egwene. I won't be a puppet for them, not for Moiraine, or any of them.”
He looked so lost she wanted to put his head on her shoulder, and so stubborn she really did want to box his ears. “Listen to me, you great ox. I am going to be an Aes Sedai, and I'll find a way to help you. I will.”
“The next time you see me, you will likely want to gentle me.”
She looked around hastily; they were alone in their stretch of the hall. “If you don't watch your tongue, I will not be able to help you. Do you want everyone to know?”
“Too many know already,” he said. “Egwene, I wish things were different, but they aren't. I wish ... Take care of yourself. And promise me you won't choose the Red Ajah.”
Tears blurred her vision as she threw her arms around him. “You take care of yourself,” she said fiercely into his chest. “If you don't, I'll — I'll...” She thought she heard him murmur, “I love you,” and then he was firmly unwrapping her arms, gently moving her away from him. He turned and strode away from her, almost running.
She jumped when Nisura touched her arm. “He looks as if you set him a task he won't enjoy. But you mustn't let him see you cry over it. That negates the purpose. Come. Nynaeve wants you.”
Scrubbing her cheeks, Egwene followed the other woman. Take care of yourself, you woolheaded lummox. Light, take care of him.
Chapter 9
(Flame of Tar Valon)
Leavetakings
The outer courtyard was in ordered turmoil when Rand finally reached it with his saddlebags and the bundle containing the harp and flute. The sun climbed toward midday. Men hurried around the horses, tugging at saddle girths and pack harness, voices raised. Others darted with lastminute additions to the packsaddles, or water for the men working, or dashed off to fetch something just remembered. But everyone seemed to know exactly what they were doing and where they were going. The guardwalks and archers' balconies were crowded again, and excitement crackled in the morning air. Hooves clattered on the paving stones. One of the packhorses began kicking, and stablemen ran to calm it. The smell of horses hung thick. Rand's cloak tried to flap in the breeze that rippled the swoopinghawk banners on the towers, but his bow, slung across his back, held it down.
From outside the open gates came the sounds of the Amyrlin's pikemen and archers forming up in the square. They had marched around from a side gate. One of the trumpeters tested his horn.
Some of the Warders glanced at Rand as he walked across the courtyard; a few raised eyebrows when they saw the heronmark sword, but none spoke. Half wore the cloaks that were so queasymaking to look at. Mandarb, Lan's stallion, was there, tall, and black, and fierceeyed, but the man himself was not, and none of the Aes Sedai, none of the women, were in evidence yet either. Moiraine's white mare, Aldieb, stepped daintily beside the stallion.