The Gathering Storm

"The refugees are tired too," Perrin said. "Alliandre can have a horse to ride, but she's leaving when the rest of us do. Light send that's soon."

Arganda sighed, but nodded. He stood up as Perrin ran fingers along the axle. He could tell stress in wood with a glance, but he preferred touch. Touch was more reliable. There was always a crack or a splintering where wood weakened, and you could feel it near to breaking. Wood was reliable like that.

Unlike men. Unlike himself.

He gritted his teeth. He didn't want to think about that. He had to keep working, had to keep doing something to distract himself. He liked to work. He'd been given far too few opportunities for it lately. "Next!" he said, voice echoing against the bottom of the wagon.

"My Lord, we should attack!" a boisterous voice declared from beside the vehicle.

Perrin thumped his head back against the well-trampled grass, closing his eyes. Bertain Gallenne, Lord Captain of the Winged Guards, was to Mayene what Arganda was to Ghealdan. Aside from that single similarity, the two captains were about as different as men could be. Perrin could see Bertain's large, beautifully worked boots, with clasps shaped like hawks, from beneath the wagon.

"My Lord," Bertain continued. "A fine charge from the Winged Guard would scatter that Aiel rabble, of this I'm certain. Why, we easily dealt with the Aiel here in the city!"

"We had the Seanchan, then," Perrin said, finishing with the rear axle and wriggling his way to the front to check the other one. He wore his old, stained coat. Faile would chastise him for that. He was supposed to present himself as a lord. But would she really expect him to wear a fine coat if he was going to spend an hour lying in the muddy grass, looking at the bottoms of wagons?

Faile wouldn't want him to be in the muddy grass in the first place. Perrin hesitated, hand on the front axle, thinking of her raven hair and distinctive Saldaean nose. She held the sum total of his love. She was everything to him.

He had succeeded—he'd saved her. So why did he feel as if things were nearly as bad as they had been? He should rejoice, he should be ecstatic, should be relieved. He'd worried so much about her during her captivity. And yet now, with her safety secure, everything still felt wrong. Somehow. In ways he couldn't explain.

Light! Would nothing just work as it was supposed to? He reached down for his pocket, wanting to finger the knotted cord he'd once carried there. But he'd thrown that away. Stop it! he thought. She's back. We can go back to the way it was before. Can't we?

"Yes, well," Bertain continued, "I suppose the departure of the Seanchan could be a problem in an assault. But that Aiel group camped out there is smaller than what we already defeated. And if you are worried, you could send word to that Seanchan general and bring her back. Surely she would wish to fight alongside us again!"

Perrin forced himself back to the moment. His own foolish problems were irrelevant; right now, he needed to get these wagons moving. The front axle was good. He turned and pushed himself out from underneath the wagon.

;Clever," Egwene said.

"Brilliant," Siuan said, sighing. "But we knew one of them was eventually going to claw her way ahead of the other. I keep diverting her toward Romanda, but I don't know how long I can keep her distracted."

"Do your best," Egwene said. "But don't worry if Lelaine refuses to be diverted."

Siuan frowned. "But she's usurping your place!"

"By building upon it," Egwene said, smiling. She finally noticed that her dress had changed to brown, for she switched it back in a heartbeat, not breaking the conversation. "Lelaine's gambit will only succeed if I fail to return. She is using me as a source of authority. When I return, she'll have no choice but to accept my leadership. She'll have spent all of her effort building me up."

"And if you don't return, Mother?" Siuan asked softly.

"Then it will be better for the Aes Sedai to have a strong leader," Egwene said. "If Lelaine has been the one to secure that strength, then so be it."

"She has good reason to make certain you don't return, you know," Siuan said. "At the very least, she's betting against you."

"Well, she can't very well be blamed for that." Egwene let down her guard enough to show a grimace. "I'd be tempted to bet against myself, if I were on the outside. You'll simply have to deal with her, Siuan. I can't let myself be distracted. Not when I see so much potential for success here, and not when there is an even greater price for failure."

Siuan knew that stubborn set to Egwene's jaw. There would be no persuading her tonight. Siuan would simply have to try again during their next meeting.

All of it—the cleansing, the Asha'man, the crumbling of the Tower— made her shiver uncomfortably. Though she'd been preparing for these days for most of her life, it was still unsettling to have them finally arrive. "The Last Battle really is coming," Siuan said, mostly to herself.

"It is," Egwene said, voice solemn.

"And I'm going to face it with barely a lick of my former power," Siuan said, grimacing.

"Well, perhaps we can get you an angreal once the Tower is whole again," Egwene said. "We'll be using everything we have when we ride against the Shadow."

Siuan smiled. "That would be nice, but not necessary. I'm just grumbling out of habit, suppose. I'm actually learning to deal with my . . . new situation. It's not so difficult to stomach, now that I see that it has some advantages."

Egwene frowned, as if trying to figure out what advantages there could be in lessened power. Finally, she shook her head. "Elayne once mentioned a room to me in the Tower, filled with objects of power. I assume it really exists?"

"Of course," Siuan said. "The basement storeroom. It's in the second level of the basement, on the northeast side. Little room with a plain wooden door, but you can't miss it. It's the only one in the hallway that is locked."