The great hunt - By Robert Jordan Page 0,246

a candle flame for a light. “And I don’t think you can really stop me.”

“Well, I’m going,” Mat said. “Fain still has that dagger, so I’m going. But all that servant business ended tonight.”

Perrin sighed, an introspective look in his yellow eyes. “I suppose I’ll come along, too.” After a moment, he grinned. “Somebody has to keep Mat out of trouble.”

“Not even a clever trick,” Ingtar muttered. “Somehow, I’ll get Barthanes alone, and I will learn the truth. I mean to have the Horn of Valere, not chase Jak o’ the Wisps.”

“It may not be a trick,” Verin said carefully, seeming to study the floor under her toes. “There were certain things left in the dungeons at Fal Dara, writings that indicated a connection between what happened that night and”—she gave Rand a quick glance under lowered brows—“Toman Head. I still do not understand them completely, but I believe we must go to Toman Head. And I believe we will find the Horn there.”

“Even if they are going to Toman Head,” Ingtar said, “by the time we reach it, Fain or one of the other Darkfriends could have blown the Horn a hundred times, and the heroes returned from the grave will ride for the Shadow.”

“Fain could have blown the Horn a hundred times since leaving Fal Dara,” Verin told him. “And I think he would have, if he could open the chest. What we must worry about is that he might find someone who does know how to open it. We must follow him along the Ways.”

Perrin’s head came up sharply, and Mat shifted in his chair. Loial gave a low moan.

“Even if we could somehow sneak past Barthanes’s guards,” Rand said, “I think we’ll find Machin Shin still there. We cannot use the Ways.”

“How many of us could sneak onto Barthanes’s grounds?” Verin said dismissively. “There are other Waygates. Stedding Tsofu lies not far from the city, south and east. It is a young stedding, rediscovered only perhaps six hundred years ago, but the Ogier Elders were still growing the Ways, then. Stedding Tsofu will have a Waygate. It is there and we will ride at first light.”

Loial made a slightly louder sound, and Rand was not sure whether it referred to the Waygate or the stedding.

Ingtar still did not seem convinced, but Verin was as smooth and as implacable as snow sliding down a mountainside. “You will have your soldiers ready to ride, Ingtar. Send Hurin to tell Uno before he goes to bed. I think we should all go to bed as soon as possible. These Darkfriends have gained at least a day on us already, and I mean to make up as much of it as I can tomorrow.” So firm was the plump Aes Sedai’s manner that she was already herding Ingtar to the door before she finished speaking.

Rand followed the others out, but at the door he stopped beside the Aes Sedai and watched Mat heading down the candle-lit hall. “Why does he look like that?” he asked her. “I thought you Healed him, enough to give him some time, anyway.”

She waited until Mat and the others had turned up the stairs before speaking. “Apparently, it did not work so well as we believed. The sickness takes an interesting course in him. His strength remains; he will keep that to the end, I think. But his body wastes away. Another few weeks, at most, I would say. You see, there is reason for haste.”

“I do not need another spur, Aes Sedai,” Rand said, making the title sound hard. Mat. The Horn. Fain’s threat. Light, Egwene! Burn me, I don’t need another spur.

“And what of you, Rand al’Thor? Do you feel well? Do you fight it still, or have you yet surrendered to the Wheel?”

“I ride with you to find the Horn,” he told her. “Beyond that, there is nothing between me and any Aes Sedai. Do you understand me? Nothing!”

She did not speak, and he walked away from her, but when he turned to take the stairs she was still watching him, dark eyes sharp and considering.

CHAPTER

34

The Wheel Weaves

The first light of morning already pearled the sky by the time Thom Merrilin found himself trudging back to The Bunch of Grapes. Even where the halls and taverns lay thickest, there was a brief time when the Foregate lay quiet, gathering its breath. In his present mood, Thom would not have noticed if the empty street had been on fire.

Some of Barthanes’s guests had