He had the feel of being watched, though, and looked around uneasily. Nothing but nightcloaked streets dotted with glowing windows. Around the square, most of the windows were dark except a few on upper floors.
The gibbet stood as he remembered, the man — the Aiel — still in the cage, hanging higher than he could reach. The Aiel seemed to be awake — at least his head was up — but he never looked down at Perrin. The stones the children had been throwing were scattered beneath the cage.
The cage hung from a thick rope tied to a ring on one of the upper bars and running through a heavy pulley on the crosspiece down to a pair of stubs, waisthigh from the bottom of the upright on either side. The excess rope lay in a careless tangle of coils at the foot of the gibbet.
Perrin looked around again, searching the dark square. He still had the feel of being watched, but he still saw nothing. He listened, and heard nothing. He smelled chimney smoke and cooking from the houses, and mansweat and old blood from the man in the cage. There was no fear scent from him.
His weight, and then there's the cage, he thought as he moved closer to the gibbet. He did not know when he had decided to do this, or even if he really had decided, but he knew he was going to do it.
Hooking a leg around the heavy upright, he heaved on the rope, hoisting the cage enough to gain a little slack. The way the rope jerked told him the man in the cage had finally moved, but he was in too much of a hurry to stop and tell him what he was doing. The slack let him unwind the rope from around the stubs. Still bracing himself with his leg around the upright, he quickly lowered the cage hand over hand to the paving blocks.
The Aiel was looking at him now, studying him silently. Perrin said nothing. When he got a good look at the cage, his mouth tightened. If a thing was made, even a thing like this, it should be made well. The entire front of the cage was a door, on rude hinges made by a hasty hand, held by a good iron lock on a chain as badly wrought as the cage. He fumbled the chain around until he found the worst link, then jammed the thick spike on his axe through it. A sharp twist of his wrist forced the link open. In seconds he separated the chain, rattled it free, and swung open the front of the cage.
The Aiel sat there, knees yet under his chin, staring at him.
“Well?” Perrin whispered hoarsely. “I opened it, but I'm not going to bloody carry you.” He looked hastily around the nightdark square. Still nothing moved, but he still had the feel of eyes watching.
“You are strong, wetlander.” The Aiel did not move beyond working his shoulders. “It took three men to hoist me up there. And now you bring me down. Why?”
“I don't like seeing people in cages,” Perrin whispered. He wanted to go. The cage was open, and those eyes were watching. But the Aiel was not moving. If you do a thing, do it right. “Will you get out of there before somebody comes?”
The Aiel grasped the frontmost overhead bar of the cage, heaved himself out and to his feet in one motion, then half hung there, supporting himself with his grip on the bar. He would have been nearly a head taller than Perrin, standing straight. He glanced at Perrin's eyes — Perrin knew how they must shine, burnished gold in the moonlight — but he did not mention them. “I have been in there since yesterday, wetlander.” He sounded like Lan. Not that their voices or accents were anything alike, but the Aiel had that same unruffled coolness, that same calm sureness. “It will take a moment for my legs to work. I am Gaul, of the Imran sept of the Shaarad Aiel, wetlander. I am Shae'en M'taal, a Stone Dog. My water is yours.”
“Well, I am Perrin Aybara. Of the Two Rivers. I'm a blacksmith.” The man was out of the cage; he could go now. Only, if anyone came along before Gaul could walk, he would be right back into the cage unless they killed him, and either way would waste Perrin's work. “If I had thought, I'd have brought