not use the Waygate, and ashamed at being relieved.
“We are done for here,” Ingtar announced. “Verin Sedai, I followed you here against my better judgment, but I can no longer follow. I mean to return to Cairhien. Barthanes can tell me where the Darkfriends went, and somehow I will make him do it.”
“Fain went to Toman Head,” Rand said wearily. “And where he went, that’s where the Horn is, and the dagger.”
“I suppose. . . .” Perrin shrugged reluctantly. “I suppose we could try another Waygate. At another stedding?”
Loial stroked his chin and spoke quickly, as if to make up for his relief at the failure here. “Stedding Cantoine lies just above the River Iralell, and Stedding Taijing is east of it in the Spine of the World. But the Waygate in Caemlyn, where the grove was, is closer, and the gate in the grove at Tar Valon is closest of all.”
“Whichever Waygate we try to use,” Verin said absently, “I fear we will find Machin Shin waiting.” Alar looked at her questioningly, but the Aes Sedai said no more that anyone could hear. She muttered to herself instead, shaking her head as if arguing with herself.
“What we need,” Hurin said diffidently, “is one of those Portal Stones.” He looked to Alar, then Verin, and when neither told him to stop, he went on, sounding increasingly confident. “The Lady Selene said those old Aes Sedai had studied those worlds, and that was how they knew how to make the Ways. And that place we were . . . well, it only took us two days—less—to travel a hundred leagues. If we could use a Portal Stone to go to that world, or one like it, why, it’d take no more than a week or two to reach the Aryth Ocean, and we could come back right on Toman Head. Maybe it isn’t so quick as the Ways, but it’s a long sight quicker than riding off west. What do you say, Lord Ingtar? Lord Rand?”
Verin answered him. “What you suggest might be possible, sniffer, but as well hope to open this Waygate again and find Machin Shin gone as hope to find a Portal Stone. I know none closer than the Aiel Waste. Though we could go back into Kinslayer’s Dagger, if you, or Rand, or Loial think you could find that Stone again.”
Rand looked at Mat. His friend had lifted his head hopefully at this talk of the Stones. A few weeks, Verin had said. If they simply rode west, Mat would never live to see Toman Head.
“I can find it,” Rand said reluctantly. He felt ashamed. Mat’s going to die, Darkfriends have the Horn of Valere, Fain will hurt Emond’s Field if you don’t follow him, and you’re afraid to channel the Power. Once to go and once to come back. Twice more won’t drive you mad. What really made him afraid, though, was the eagerness that leaped inside him at the thought of channeling again, of feeling the Power fill him, of feeling truly alive.
“I do not understand this,” Alar said slowly. “The Portal Stones have not been used since the Age of Legends. I did not think there was anyone who still knew how to use them.”
“The Brown Ajah knows many things,” Verin said dryly, “and I know how the Stones may be used.”
The Eldest nodded. “Truly there are wonders in the White Tower of which we do not dream. But if you can use a Portal Stone, there is no need for you to ride to Kinslayer’s Dagger. There is a Stone not far from where we stand.”
“The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, and the Pattern provides what is needful.” The absent look dropped from Verin’s face altogether. “Take us to it,” she said briskly. “We have lost more than enough time already.”
CHAPTER
37
What Might Be
Alar led them away from the Waygate at a dignified pace, though Juin seemed more than anxious to leave the Waygate behind. Mat, at least, looked ahead eagerly, and Hurin seemed confident, while Loial appeared concerned more that Alar might change her mind about his going than about anything else. Rand did not hurry as he pulled Red along by the reins. He did not think Verin meant to use the Stone herself.
The gray stone column stood upright near a beech almost a hundred feet tall and four paces thick; Rand would have thought it a big tree before he saw the Great Trees. There was no warning coping here,