Chapter 14
(Wolf)
Customs of Mayene
Perrin shook his head as the door closed behind Mat. Mat would as soon hit himself on the head with a hammer as go back to the Two Rivers. Not unless he must. Perrin wished there was some way he could avoid going home, too. But there was no way; it was a fact as hard as iron and less forgiving. The difference between Mat and himself was that he was willing to accept that, even when he did not want to.
Easing his shirt off made him grunt, careful as he could be. A large bruise, already faded to browns and yellows, stained his entire left shoulder. A Trolloc had slipped past his axe, and only Faile's quick work with a knife had kept it from being more than it was. The shoulder made washing painful, but at least there was no worry about cold water in Tear.
He was packed and ready, only a change of clothes for the morning remaining out of his saddlebags. As soon as the sun rose, he would go find Loial. No point in bothering the Ogier tonight. He was probably already abed, where Perrin meant to be shortly. Faile was the only problem he had not figured out how to deal with. Even staying in Tear would be better for her than going with him.
The door opened, surprising him. Perfume wafted in to him as soon as the door cracked; it made him think of climbing flowers on a hot summer night. A tantalizing scent, not heavy, not to anyone but him, but nothing Faile would wear. Still, he was even more surprised when Berelain stepped into his room.
Holding the edge of the door, she blinked, making him realize how dim the light must be for her. “You are going somewhere?” she said hesitantly, With the light of the hallway's lamps behind her, it was difficult not to stare.
“Yes, my Lady.” He bowed; not smoothly, but as well as he could. Faile could give all the sharp sniffs she wanted, but he saw no reason not to be polite. “In the morning.”
“So am I.” She closed the door and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. He looked away, watching her from the corner of his eye, so she would not think he was goggling. She went on without noticing his reaction. The single candle flame was reflected in her dark eyes. “After tonight...Tomorrow I will leave by carriage for Godan, and from there take ship for Mayene. I should have gone days ago, but I thought there must be some way to work matters out. Only, there wasn't, of course. I should have seen that sooner. Tonight convinced me. The way he... All that lightning, flowing down the halls. I will leave tomorrow.”
“My Lady,” Perrin said in confusion, “why are you telling me?”
The way she tossed her head reminded him of a mare he had sometimes shoed in Emond's Field; that mare would try to take a bite out of you. “So you can tell the Lord Dragon, of course.”
That made no more sense to him. “You can tell him yourself,” he said with more than a little exasperation. “I've no time for carrying messages before I go.”
“I...do not think he would wish to see me.”
Any man would want to see her, and she was beautiful to look at; she knew both things. He thought she had started to say something else. Could she have been that frightened by what had happened that night in Rand's bedchamber? Or the attack and the way Rand had ended it? Perhaps, but this was not a woman to frighten easily, not from the cool way she was eyeing him. “Give your message to a servant. I doubt I'll see Rand again. Not before I leave. Any servant will take a note to him.”
“It would come better from you, a friend of the Lord —”
“Give it to a servant. Or one of the Aiel.”
“You will not do as I ask?” she asked incredulously.
“No. Haven't you been listening to me?”
She tossed her head again, but there was a difference this time, though he could not have said what. Studying him thoughtfully, she murmured half to herself, “Such striking eyes.”
“What?” Suddenly he realized he was standing there naked to the waist. Her intense scrutiny abruptly seemed like the study of a horse before purchase. Next thing, she would be feeling his ankles and inspecting his teeth. He snatched the shirt meant for morning from the bed and pulled it over his head. “Give your message to a servant. I want to go to bed now. I mean to be up early. Before sunrise.”
“Where are you going tomorrow?”
“Home. The Two Rivers. It is late. If you are leaving tomorrow, too, I suppose you want to get some sleep. I know I'm tired.” He yawned as widely as he could.
She still made no move toward the door. “You are a blacksmith? I have need of a blacksmith in Mayene. Making ornamental ironwork. A short stay before returning to the Two Rivers? You would find Mayene... entertaining.”
“I am going home,” he told her firmly, “and you are going back to your own rooms.”
Her small shrug made him look away again hastily. “Perhaps another day. I always get what I want in the end. And I think I want...” She paused, eyeing him up and down. “. . . ornamental ironwork. For the windows of my bedchamber.” She smiled so innocently that he felt alarm gongs sounding his head.
The door opened again, and Faile came in. “Perrin, I went into the city looking for you, and I heard a rumor —” She stopped stock still, her eyes hard on Berelain.
The First ignored her. Stepping close to Perrin, she ran a hand up his arm, across his shoulder. For an instant he thought she meant to try pulling his head down for a kiss — she certainly lifted her face as if for one — but she only trailed her hand along the side of his neck in a quick caress and stepped back. It was over and done before he could move to stop her. “Remember,” she said softly, as if they were alone, “I always get what I want.” And she swept past Faile and out of the room.
He waited for an explosion from Faile, but she glanced at his stuffed saddlebags on the bed and said, “I see you've heard the rumor already. It is only a rumor, Perrin.”
“Yellow eyes make it more than that.” She should have been erupting like a bundle of dry twigs tossed on a fire. Why was she so cool? “Very well. Moiraine is the next problem, then. Will she try to stop you?”