The Gathering Storm

He was ta'veren. The Pattern bent and shaped around him. And yet, he had quickly learned one thing from being a king: the more authority you gained, the less control you had over your life. Duty was truly heavier than a mountain; it forced his hand as often as the prophecies did. Or were they both one and the same? Duty and prophecy? His nature as a ta'veren and his place in history? Could he change his life? Could he leave the world better for his passing, rather than leaving the nations scarred, torn and bleeding?

He watched the camp, men moving about their tasks, horses nosing at the ground, searching for patches of winter grass that had not already been chewed to their roots. Though Rand had ordered this army to travel light, there were still camp followers. Women to help with meals and laundry, blacksmiths and farriers to tend horses and equipment, young boys to run messages and to train on the weapons. Saldaea was a Borderland, and battle was a way of life for its people.

"I envy them, sometimes," Rand whispered.

"My Lord?" Flinn asked, stepping up to him.

"The people of the camp," Rand said. "They do as they are told, working each day under orders. Strict orders, at times. But orders or not, those people are more free than I."

"You, Lord?" Flinn said, rubbing his leathery face with an aged finger. "You are the most powerful man alive! You're ta'veren. Even the Pattern obeys your will, 1 should think!"

Rand shook his head. "It doesn't work that way, Flinn. Those people out there, any one of them could just ride away. Escape, if they felt like it. Leave the battle to others."

"I've known a few Saldaeans in my day, my Lord," Flinn said. "Forgive me, but I have doubts that any one of them would do that."

"But they could" Rand said. "It's possible. For all their laws and oaths, they are free. Me, I seem as if I can do as I wish, but I am tied so tightly the bonds cut my flesh. My power and influence are meaningless against fate. My freedom is all just an illusion, Flinn. And so I envy them. Sometimes."

Flinn folded his hands behind his back, obviously uncertain how to respond.

We all do as we must, Moiraine's voice from the past returned to his memory. As the Pattern decrees. For some there is less freedom than for others. It does not matter whether we choose or are chosen. What must be, must be.

She had understood. I'm trying, Moiraine, he thought. I will do what must be done.

"My Lord Dragon!" a voice called. Rand turned toward the sound and saw one of Bashere's scouts running up the hill. The Maidens cautiously allowed the youthful, dark-haired man to approach.

"My Lord," the scout said, saluting. "There are Aiel on the outskirts of the camp. We saw two of them prowling through the trees about half a mile down the slope."

;I was hung up by my ankles naked and strapped until I could scream no more." As soon as the words left her mouth, her eyes opened in shock. Often, when influenced by Rand's ta'veren nature, people said things they did not intend to admit.

"So harsh?" Rand said, genuinely surprised.

"It was not so bad as it could have been. I retain my position as Wavemistress for my clan."

But it was obvious she had lost a great deal of face, or incurred great toh, or whatever the blasted Sea Folk called honor. Even when he wasn't present, he caused pain and suffering!

"I am glad you have returned," he forced himself to say. No smile, but a softer tone. That was the best he could do. "You have impressed me, Harine, with your levelheadedness."

She nodded in thanks to him. "We will keep our Bargain, Coramoor. You needn't fear."

Something else struck him, one of the original questions he'd come to ask her. "Harine. I would ask you a somewhat delicate question about your people."

"You may ask," she said carefully.

"How do the Sea Folk treat men who can channel?"

She hesitated. "That is not a matter for the shorebound to know."

Rand met her eyes. "If you agree to answer, then I will answer a question for you in return." The best way to deal with the Atha'an Miere was not to push or bully, but to offer trade.

She paused. "If you give me two questions," she said, "I will answer."

"I will give you one question, Harine," he said, raising a finger. "But I promise to answer you as truthfully as I can. It is a fair bargain, and you know it. I have little patience right now."

Harine touched her fingers to her lips. "It is agreed, then, under the Light."

"It is agreed," Rand said. "Under the Light. My question?"

"Men who can channel are given a choice," Harine said. "They can either step from the bow of their ship holding a stone which is also tied to their legs, or they can be dropped off on a barren isle with no food or water. The second is considered the more shameful option, but some few do take it, to live for a brief time longer."