The Gathering Storm - Sanderson, Brandon Page 0,75

underneath the wagon.

Bertain was of medium height, though the three plumes rising from his helmet made him look taller. He had on his red eye patch—Perrin didn't know where he'd lost the eye—and his armor gleamed. He seemed excited, as if he thought Perrin's silence meant they would attack.

Perrin stood, dusting off his plain brown trousers. "We're leaving," he said, then held up a hand to forbid further argument. "We defeated the septs here, but we had them dosed with forkroot and there were damane on our side. We're tired, wounded, and we have Faile back. There's no further reason to fight. We run."

Bertain didn't look satisfied, but he nodded and turned away, stomping across the muddy ground toward where his men sat their mounts. Perrin looked at the small group of people who waited in a cluster around the wagon to speak with him. Once, this kind of business had frustrated Perrin. It seemed like pointless work, as many of the supplicants already knew what his answer would be.

But they needed to hear those answers from him, and Perrin had come to understand the importance of that. Besides, their questions helped distract him from the strange tension he felt at having rescued Faile.

He walked toward the next wagon in line, his small entourage following him. There were a good fifty of the wagons set in a long caravan train. The first ones were loaded with salvage from Malden; the middle ones were in the process of being treated likewise, and he had only two left to inspect. He had wanted to be well out of Malden before sunset. That would probably carry him far enough away to be safe.

Unless these new Shaido decided to give chase in revenge. With the number of people Perrin had to move, a blind man would be able to track them.

The sun drooped toward the horizon, a shining spot behind the cloud cover. Light, but this was a mess, with the chaos of organizing refugees and separate army camps. Getting away was supposed to be the easy part!

The Shaido camp was a disaster. His people had scavenged and packed many of the abandoned tents. Now cleared, the ground around the city was trampled weeds and mud, littered with refuse. The Shaido, being Aiel, had preferred to camp outside the city walls, rather than within them. They were a strange people, no denying that. Who would spurn a nice bed, not to mention a better military position, to stay outside in tents?

Aiel despised cities, though. Most of the buildings had either been burned during the initial Shaido assault or looted for riches. Doors beaten down, windows shattered, possessions abandoned on the streets and trampled by gai'shain running back and forth to fetch water.

People still scurried about like insects, moving through the city gates and around the former Shaido camp, grabbing what they could to stow it for transport. They'd have to leave the wagons behind once they decided to Travel—Grady couldn't make a gateway big enough to pass a wagon through—but for now, the vehicles would be a big help. There were also a good number of oxen; someone else was inspecting those, making certain they were fit to pull the wagons. The Shaido had let many of the city's horses run off. A shame, that. But you made use of what you had.

Perrin reached the next wagon, beginning his inspection with the vehicle's long tongue, to which oxen would be harnessed. "Next!"

"My Lord," said a scratchy voice, "I believe that I am next."

Perrin glanced over at the speaker: Sebban Balwer, his secretary. The man had a dry, pinched face and a perpetual stoop that made him look almost like a roosting vulture. Though his coat and breeches were clean, it seemed to Perrin that they should shed puffs of dust each time Balwer stepped. He smelled musty, like an old book.

"Balwer," Perrin said, running his fingers over the tongue, then checking the harness straps, "I thought you were speaking with the captives."

"I have, indeed, been busy with my work there," Balwer said. "However, I grew curious. Did you have to let the Seanchan take all of the captive Shaido channelers with them?"

Perrin glanced at the musty secretary. The Wise Ones who could channel had been knocked unconscious by forkroot; they'd been given over to the Seanchan while still unconscious, to do with as they pleased. The decision had not made Perrin popular with the Aiel among his allies, but he would not have those