Knife of Dreams (The Wheel of Time 11)

Had al'Lora, a lean fellow with thick mustaches like a Taraboner, was the last of the Two Rivers men. As he climbed into the aqueduct, Gaul appeared, face still veiled and four spears gripped in the hand that held his bull-hide buckler. He put a hand on the edge of the aqueduct and leapt up to sit on the stone coping.

"You're going in?" Perrin said in surprise.

"The Maidens can do any scouting you need, Perrin Aybara." The big Aiel glanced over his shoulder toward the Maidens. Perrin thought he scowled, though it was hard to be sure because of the black veil that hid all but his eyes. "I heard them talking when they thought I was not listening. Unlike your wife and the others, Chiad is properly gai'shain. Bain, too, but I care nothing about her. Chiad still has the rest of her year and a day to serve after we rescue her. When a man has a woman as gai'shain, or a woman a man, sometimes a marriage wreath is made as soon as white is put off. It is not uncommon. But I heard the Maidens say they would reach Chiad first, to keep her from me."

Behind him, Sulin's finger flashed in Maiden handtalk, and one of the others slapped a hand over her mouth as if stifling laughter. So they had been goading him. Maybe they were not so hard against his suit for Chiad as they pretended. Or maybe there was something Perrin was missing. Aiel humor could be rough.

Gaul slipped into the water. He had to bend almost parallel to the surface to get under the aqueduct's top. Perrin stared at the opening. So easy to follow Gaul. Turning away was hard. The line of Seanchan soldiers still snaked up and down the slope.

"Mishima, I'm going back to my camp. Grady will take you to yours when you're done here. Do what you can to blur the tracks before you go."

"Very well, my Lord. I've told off some men to scrape grease from the axles and grease these windmills. They sound as if they could seize up any minute. We can do those at the far ridge, too."

Taking up Stepper's reins, Perrin looked up at the slow-turning sails. Slow, but steady. They had never been made to turn fast. "And if some Shaido decide to come out here tomorrow and wonder where the fresh grease came from?"

Mishima regarded him for a long moment, his face half-hidden by moonshadows. For once, he did not seem put off by glowing yellow eyes. His scent. . . . He smelled as if he saw something unexpected. "The Banner-General was right about you," he said slowly.

"What did she say?"

"You'll have to ask her, my Lord."

Perrin rode down the slope and back to the trees thinking how easy it would be to turn around. Gallenne could handle everything from here. It was all laid out. Except that the Mayener believed every battle climaxed with a grand charge of horse. And preferably began with one, too. How long would he stick to the plan? Arganda was more sensible, but he was so anxious for Queen Alliandre that he might well order that charge, as well. That left himself. The breeze gusted hard, and he pulled his cloak around him.

Grady, elbows on his knees, was in a small clearing sitting on a half-worked mossy stone that was partially sunken into the ground and no doubt left over from building the aqueduct. A few others like it stood around. The breeze kept his scent from Perrin's nose. He did not look up until Perrin drew rein in front of him. The gateway they had used to come here still stood open, showing another clearing among tall trees, not far from where the Seanchan were now camped. It might have been easier to have had them set up close to Perrin's camp, but he wanted to keep the Aes Sedai and Wise Ones as far from the sul'dam and damane as possible. He was not afraid of the Seanchan breaking Tylee's word, but the Aes Sedai and Wise Ones practically came down with the pip just thinking about damane. Probably the Wise Ones and Annoura would stay their hands for the time being. Probably. Masuri, he was not so sure of. In a number of ways. Better to keep a few leagues between them for as long as it could be managed.

"Are you all right, Grady?" The man's weathered face seemed to have new lines in it. That might have been a trick of moonshadows cast by the tr

ees, but Perrin did not think so. The carts had passed through the gateway easily, but was it a little smaller than the first he had seen Grady make?

"Just tired a little, my Lord," Grady said wearily. He remained seated with his elbows on his knees. "All this Traveling we've been doing lately. . . . Well, I couldn't have held the gateway open long enough for all those soldiers to ride through yesterday. That's why I've taken to tying them off."

Perrin nodded. Both of the Asha'man were tired. Channeling took strength out of a man as surely as swinging a hammer all day at a forge. More so, in truth. The man with the hammer could keep going far longer than any Asha'man. That was why the aqueduct was the route into Maiden and not a gateway, why there would be no gateway to bring Faile and the others out again, much as Perrin wished there could be. The two Asha'man only had so much more left in them until they could rest, and that little had to be used where it was needed most. Light, but that was a hard thought. Only, if Grady or Neald fell one gateway short of what was needed, a lot of men were going to die. A hard decision.

"I'm going to need you and Neald the day after tomorrow." That was like saying he needed air. Without the Asha'man, everything became impossible. "You're going to be busy then." Another gross understatement.

"Busy as a one-armed man plastering a ceiling, my Lord."

"Are you up to it?"

"Have to be, don't I, my Lord."

Perrin nodded again. You did what had to be done. "Send me back to our camp. After you return Mishima and his people to his, you and the Maidens can sleep there if you'd like." That would spare Grady a little against two days from now.

"Don't know about the Maidens, my Lord, but I'd as soon come on home tonight." He turned his head to look at the gateway without rising, and it dwindled in the reverse of how it had opened, the view through it seeming to rotate as it narrowed, finishing with a vertical slash of silvery blue light that left a faint purplish bar in Perrin's vision when it winked out. "Those damane fair make my skin crawl. They don't want to be free."

"How would you know that?"

"I talked to some of them when none of those sul'dam was close by. Soon as I brought up maybe they'd like those leashes off, just hinting like, they started screaming for the sul'dam. The damane were crying, and the sul'dam petting them and stroking them and glaring daggers at me. Fair made my skin crawl."

Stepper stamped an impatient hoof, and Perrin patted the stallion's neck. Grady was lucky those sul'dam had let him go with a whole hide. "Whatever happens with the damane, Grady, it won't be this week, or next. And it won't be us who fixes it. So you let the damane be. We have a job of work in front of us that needs doing." And a deal with the Dark One to do it. He pushed the thought away. Anyway, it had grown hard to think of Tylee Khirgan being on the Dark One's side. Or Mishima. "You understand that?"

"I understand, my Lord. I'm just saying it makes my skin crawl."

At last another silvery blue slash appeared, widening into an opening that showed a clearing among large, widely spaced trees and a low stone outcrop. Leaning low on Stepper's neck, Perrin rode through. The gateway winked out behind him, and he rode on through the trees until he came to the large clearing where the camp lay, near what had once been the tiny village of Brytan, a collection of flea-riddled hovels that the most rain-soaked night could not tempt a man into. The sentries up in the trees gave no warnings, of course. They recognized him.

He wanted nothing so much as he wanted his blankets right then. Well, Faile, certainly, but lacking her, he wanted to be alone in the dark. Likely, he would fail to find sleep again, but he would spend the night as he had so often before, thinking of her, remembering her.

Short of the ten-pace wide thicket of sharpened stakes that surrounded the camp, though, he reined in. A raken was crouched just outside the stakes, its long gray neck lowered so a woman in a hooded brown coat could scratch its leathery snout. Her hood hung down her back, revealing short-cropped hair and a hard, narrow face. She looked at Perrin as if she recognized him, but went right on scratching. The saddle on the creature's back had places for two riders. A messenger had come, it seemed. He turned into one of the narrow, angled lanes through the stakes that had been left to allow horses through. Just not quickly.