The great hunt - By Robert Jordan Page 0,314

him, she seemed ostentatious in not doing so, and Mat and Perrin were suddenly intent on their own feet.

“A man,” Ingtar snorted. “Verin Sedai, why add problems? We have enough already without supposing men channeling. But it would be well if you were there. If we have need of you—”

“No, you five must go alone.” Her foot scrubbed across the wheel drawn in the dirt, partially obliterating it. She studied each of them in turn, intent and frowning. “Five will ride forth.”

For a moment it seemed that Ingtar would ask again, but meeting her level gaze, he shrugged and turned to Hurin. “How long to reach Falme?”

The sniffer scratched his head. “If we left now and rode through the night, we could be there by sunrise tomorrow morning.”

“Then that is what we will do. I’ll waste no more time. All of you saddle your horses. Uno, I want you to bring the others along behind us, but keep out of sight, and do not let anyone. . . .”

Rand peered at the sketched wheel as Ingtar went on with his instructions. It was a broken wheel, now, with only four spokes. For some reason that made him shiver. He realized Verin was watching him, dark eyes bright and intent like a bird’s. It took an effort to pull his gaze away and begin getting his things together.

You’re letting fancies take you, he told himself irritably. She can’t do anything if she isn’t there.

CHAPTER

45

Blademaster

The rising sun pushed its crimson edge above the horizon and sent long shadows down the cobblestone streets of Falme toward the harbor. A sea breeze bent the smoke of breakfast cook fires inland from the chimneys. Only the early risers were already out of doors, their breath making steam in the morning cold. Compared to the crowds that would fill the streets in another hour, the town seemed nearly empty.

Sitting on an upended barrel in front of a still-closed ironmonger’s shop, Nynaeve warmed her hands under her arms and surveyed her army. Min sat on a doorstep across the way, swathed in her Seanchan cloak and eating a wrinkled plum, and Elayne in her fleece coat huddled at the edge of an alley just down the street from her. A large sack, pilfered from the docks, lay neatly folded beside Min. My army, Nynaeve thought grimly. But there isn’t anybody else.

She caught sight of a sul’dam and a damane climbing the street, a yellow-haired woman wearing the bracelet and a dark woman the collar, both yawning sleepily. The few Falmen sharing the street with them averted their eyes and gave them a wide berth. As far as she could see down toward the harbor, there was not another Seanchan. She did not turn her head the other way. Instead, she stretched and shrugged as if working cold shoulders before settling back as she had been.

Min tossed her half-eaten plum aside, glanced casually up the street, and leaned back on the doorpost. The way was clear there, too, or she would have put her hands on her knees. Min had started rubbing her hands nervously, and Nynaeve realized that Elayne was now bouncing eagerly on her toes.

If they give us away, I’ll thump both their heads. But she knew if they were discovered, it would be the Seanchan who would say what happened to all three of them. She was all too aware that she had no real notion of whether what she planned would work or not. It could easily be her own failure that would give them away. Once again she resolved that if anything went wrong, she would somehow pull attention to herself while Min and Elayne escaped. She had told them to run if anything went wrong, and let them think she would run, too. What she would do then, she did not know. Except I won’t let them take me alive. Please, Light, not that.

Sul’dam and damane came up the street until they were bracketed by the three waiting women. A dozen Falmen walked wide of the linked pair.

Nynaeve gathered all of her anger. Leashed Ones and Leash Holders. They had put their filthy collar on Egwene’s neck, and they would put it on hers, and Elayne’s, if they could. She had made Min tell her how sul’dam enforced their will. She was sure Min had kept some back, the worst, but what she told was enough to heat Nynaeve to white-hot fury. In an instant a white blossom on a black, thorny