The Gathering Storm

Moridin tapped his fingers on the chair. "Why have you come here?"

Come here? Rand thought, with shock. Hadn't Moridin brought him?

"I feel so tired," Moridin continued, closing his eyes. "Is that you, or is it me? I could throttle Semirhage for what she did."

Rand frowned. Was Moridin mad? Ishamael had certainly seemed crazy, at the end.

"It is not time for us to fight," Moridin said, waving a hand at Rand. "Go. Leave me in peace. I do not know what would happen to us if we killed one another. The Great Lord will have you soon enough. His victory is assured."

"He has failed before and will fail again," Rand said. "I will defeat him."

Moridin laughed again, the same heartless laugh as before. "Perhaps you will," he said. "But do you think that matters? Consider it. The Wheel turns, time and time again. Over and over the Ages turn, and men fight the Great Lord. But someday, he will win, and when he does, the Wheel will stop.

"That is why his victory is assured. I think it will be this Age, but if not, then in another. When you are victorious, it only leads to another battle. When he is victorious, all things will end. Can you not see that there is no hope for you?"

"Is that what made you turn to his side?" Rand asked. "You were always so full of thoughts, Elan. Your logic destroyed you, didn't it?"

"There is no path to victory," Moridin said. "The only path is to follow the Great Lord and rule for a time before all things end. The others are fools. They look for grand rewards in the eternities, but there will be no eternities. Only the now, the last days."

He laughed again, and this time there was joy in it. True pleasure.

Rand stood. Moridin eyed him warily, but did not get up.

"There is a way to win, Moridin," Rand said. "I mean to kill him. Slay the Dark One. Let the Wheel turn without his constant taint."

Moridin gave no reaction. He was still staring at the flames. "We are connected," Moridin finally said. "That is how you came here, I suspect, though I do not understand our bond myself. I doubt you can understand the magnitude of the stupidity in your statement."

Rand felt a flash of anger, but fought it down. He would not be goaded. "We shall see."

He reached for the One Power. It was distant, far away. Rand seized it, and felt himself yanked away, as if on a line of saidin. The room vanished, and so did the One Power, as Rand entered a deep blackness.

Rand finally stopped thrashing in his sleep, and Min held her breath, hoping that he wouldn't start again. She sat, legs tucked underneath her, wrapped in a blanket as she read in her chair at the corner of the room. A small lamp flickered and danced on the short table beside her, illuminating her stack of musty books. Falling Shale, Marks and Remarks, Monuments Past. Histories, most of them.

Rand sighed softly, but did not move. Min released her breath and settled back into her chair, finger marking her place in a copy of Pelateos's Ponderings, With the shutters closed for the night, she could still hear the wind sough in the pines. The room smelled faintly of smoke from the strange fire. Aviendha's quick thinking had made a potential disaster into a mere inconvenience. Not that she was being rewarded for it. The Wise Ones continued to work her as hard as a merchant's last mule.

Min hadn't been able to get close enough to her to have a conversation, despite the fact that they'd been in the camp together for some time now. She didn't know how to think of the other woman. They had become a little more comfortable with one another that evening, sharing oosquai. But one day did not friends make, and she was definitely uncomfortable about sharing.

Min glanced again at Rand, lying on his back, eyes closed, breath coming evenly now. His left arm lay across his blankets, the stump exposed. She didn't know how he managed to sleep, with those wounds in his side. As soon as she thought of them, she could feel the pain—it was all part of the rolled-up ball of Rand's emotions in the back of her mind. She had learned to ignore the pain. She'd had to. For him, it would be much, much stronger. How he could stand it, she didn't know.

She wasn't Aes Sedai—thank the Light—but somehow she had bonded him. It was amazing; she could tell where he was, tell if he was distraught. She could mostly keep his emotions from overwhelming her except when they were passionate. But what woman didn't want to be overwhelmed during those moments? It was a particularly . . . exhilarating experience with the bond, which let her feel both her own desire and the raging tempest of fire that was Rand's desire for her.

The thought made her blush, and she pulled open Ponderings to distract herself. Rand needed his sleep, and she was going to let him have it. Besides, she needed to study, although she was confronted by conclusions that she didn't like.

These books had belonged to Herid Fel, the kindly old scholar who had joined Rand's school in Cairhien. Min smiled, remembering Fel's distracted way of talking and his confused—yet somehow brilliant— discoveries.

Herid Fel was dead now, murdered, torn apart by Shadowspawn. He'd discovered something in these books, something he'd intended to tell Rand. Something about the Last Battle and the seals on the Dark One's prison. Fel had been killed just before he could pass on the information. Perhaps it was coincidence; perhaps the books had nothing to do with his death. But perhaps they did. Min was determined to find the answers. For Rand, and for Herid himself.

She put down Ponderings and picked up Thoughts Among the Ruins, a work from over a thousand years ago. She'd marked a place with a small slip of paper, the very same now-worn note that Herid had sent to Rand shortly before the murder. Min turned it over in her fingers, reading it again.

Belief and order give strength. Have to clear rubble before you can build. Will explain when see you next. Do not bring girl. Too pretty.

She figured—from reading among his books—that she could trace his thoughts. Rand had wanted information on how to seal the Dark One's prison. Could Fel have discovered what she thought she had?

She shook her head. What was she doing trying to solve a scholarly mystery? But who else was there? One of the Brown Ajah might be better suited, but could they be trusted? Even those who had made their oaths to him might decide that it was in Rand's best interests to keep secrets from him. Rand himself was far too busy, and he was too impatient for books lately anyway. That left Min. She was beginning to piece together some of what he would have to do, but there was more—so much more—that was still unknown. She felt she was getting close, but it worried her to reveal what she'd discovered to Rand. How would he respond?

She sighed, scanning the book. She'd never thought that she, of all people, would become a fool for some man. Yet here she was, following him wherever he went, putting his needs before her own. That didn't mean she was his pet, regardless what some of the people in camp said. She followed Rand because she loved him, and she could feel—literally—that he returned her love. Despite the harshness that was invading him bit by bit, despite the anger and the bleakness of his life, he loved her. And so she did what she could to help him.

If she could help solve this one puzzle, the puzzle of sealing the Dark One's prison, she could achieve something not just for Rand, but for the world itself. What did it matter if soldiers in the camp didn't know what her value was? It was probably better if everyone assumed her to be dis-missible. Any assassin who came to kill Rand should think that he could ignore Min. The would-be killer would soon discover the knives hidden in Min's sleeves. She wasn't as good with them as Thorn Merrilin was, but she knew more than enough to kill.