The Gathering Storm

The boy blinked, and Nynaeve could see sense flood back into his eyes. He shivered weakly. Nynaeve Delved him to determine how well the Healing had worked. "The fever has broken," she said with a nod, standing and releasing the One Power. "He will need to eat well over the next few days; I will give your descriptions to the dockmasters, and you will receive extra rations. Do not sell the food, or I will find out, and I will be angry. Do you understand?"

The woman looked down, ashamed. "We would never. . . ."

"I don't take anything for granted anymore," Nynaeve said. "Anyway, he should live, if you do as I say. Feed him the rest of that draught tonight, by sips if you have to. If the fever starts again, bring him to me at the Dragon's palace."

"Yes, my Lady," the woman said as the husband knelt, taking the boy and smiling.

Nynaeve picked up her lantern and rose.

"Lady," the woman said. "Thank you."

Nynaeve turned back. "You should have brought him to me days ago. I don't care what foolish superstitions people are spreading, the Aes Sedai are not your enemies. If you know any who are sick, encourage them to visit us."

The woman nodded, and the husband seemed cowed. Nynaeve stalked out of the alleyway and back onto the dark street, passing folk who watched her with a mixture of awe and horror. Foolish people! Would they let their own children die rather than get them Healed?

Back on the street, Nynaeve calmed herself. The diversion really hadn't taken much of her time, and—tonight at least—time was one of the things she had plenty of. She wasn't having much luck dealing with Rand. Her only consolation was that Cadsuane had done worse as his advisor.

How did one handle a creature like the Dragon Reborn? Nynaeve knew that the old Rand was there, within him somewhere. He had simply been beaten and kicked so many times that he'd gone into hiding, letting this harsher version rule. As much as it galled her to admit it, bullying him was just not going to work. But how was she to get him to do what he should, since he was too bullheaded to respond to ordinary prodding?

Nynaeve halted, lantern light illuminating an empty street before her. There was one person who bad managed to work with Rand while at the same time teaching and training him. It hadn't been Cadsuane, nor had it been any of the Aes Sedai who tried to capture him, trick him or bully him.

It had been Moiraine.

Nynaeve continued on her way. During the last months of her life, the Blue had all but fawned over Rand. In order to get him to take her as his advisor, she'd agreed to obey his commands and offer advice only when it was wanted. What good was advice when it was given only when it was wanted? People needed most to hear the advice they didn't want!

;Then we have all the greater reason to move on," Merise said sternly. "Rand al'Thor, he is a fool! And Arad Doman, it is irrelevant. A king or no king? What does it matter?"

"The Seanchan are not irrelevant," Nynaeve said, sniffing. "What of them? You would have us march to the Blight and leave our kingdoms open to invasion?"

Merise didn't react. Corele smiled and shrugged, then looked toward Darner Flinn, who leaned against the wall behind them, his arms folded. The leathery old man's casual posture suggested that he saw the procession of ghosts as nothing special. And these days, he might be right.

Nynaeve looked back out at the ghost procession, who were walking in an arc, rounding the city wall. The other Aes Sedai resumed their conversation, Merise and Corele taking further opportunity to voice their displeasure with Rand in their separate ways—one dour, the other congenial.

It made Nynaeve want to defend him. Though he had been difficult and erratic lately, there was important work for him to do in Arad Doman. The meeting with the Seanchan in Falme was only a short time away. Beyond that, Rand was right to worry about filling the Domani throne. And what if Graendal really was here, as he seemed to think? The others thought he must be mistaken about the Forsaken, but Rand had discovered Forsaken in nearly every other kingdom. Why not Arad Doman? A missing king, a land seething with confusion, famine and strife? These things sounded exactly like the kinds of trouble one would discover near one of the Forsaken.

The others continued to talk. Nynaeve started to leave, and as she did so she noticed that Cadsuane was watching her. Nynaeve hesitated, turning toward the cloaked woman. Cadsuane's face was barely visible by torchlight, but Nynaeve caught a grimace in the shadows, as if Cadsuane were displeased with Merise's and Corele's complaints. Nynaeve and Cadsuane stared at each other for a moment; then Cadsuane nodded curtly. The aged Aes Sedai turned and began to walk away, right in the middle of one of Merise's tirades about Rand.

The other Aes Sedai bustled to catch up. What had that look been for? Cadsuane had a habit of treating other Aes Sedai as if they were less worthy of respect than a common mule. It was as if all the rest of them were mere children in her eyes.

But, well, considering the way many Aes Sedai had been acting lately. . . .

Frowning to herself, Nynaeve left in the other direction, nodding to the wall guards. That nod of Cadsuane's couldn't possibly have been given out of respect. Cadsuane was far too self-righteous and arrogant for that.

What to do about Rand, then? He didn't want Nynaeve's help—or anyone's help—but that was nothing new. He'd been just as stubborn as a sheepherder back in the Two Rivers, and his father had been nearly as bad. That had never stopped Nynaeve the Wisdom, so it certainly wouldn't stop Nynaeve the Aes Sedai. She'd wrangled Coplins and Congars; she could do the same for trumped-up Rand al'Thor. She had half a mind to stride to his new "palace" and give him an earful.

Except . . . Rand al'Thor wasn't just any Coplin or Congar. Stubborn folks back in the Two Rivers hadn't had Rand's strangely menacing aura.

She'd dealt with dangerous men before. Her own Lan was as dangerous as a wolf on the prowl, and could be as prickly, too, even if he was good at hiding it from most people. But as threatening and as intimidating as Lan could be, he'd sooner chop off his own hand than raise it to harm her.

Rand was different. Nynaeve reached the steps leading off the wall into the city and headed down them, waving away a guard's suggestion that she take one of them in escort. It was night and there were a lot of refugees about, but she was hardly helpless. She did accept a lantern from another guard, however. Using the One power to craft light would make the passersby uncomfortable.

Rand. Once, she'd thought him as gentle as Lan. His devotion to protecting women had been almost laughable in its innocence. That Rand was gone. Nynaeve saw again the moment when he had exiled Cadsuane. She'd believed that he would kill Cadsuane if he saw her face again, and thinking of the moment still gave her shivers. Surely it had been her imagination, but the room had seemed to darken distinctly at that moment, as if a cloud had passed over the sun.

Rand al'Thor had grown unpredictable. His explosion of temper at Nynaeve herself a few days ago was just another example. Of course, he would never exile or threaten her, despite what he had said. He wasn't that hard. Was he?

She reached the bottom of the stone steps, walking out onto a boardwalk stained with the mud of evening traffic. She pulled her shawl close. Huddled people clustered on the other side of the street. The shop entrances and alleyways there offered protection from the wind.

She heard a child cough among a distant group. She froze, then heard the cough again. It was not an easy sound. Muttering, she crossed the street, then forced her way through the refugees, holding up her lantern to illuminate one group of drowsy people after another. Many had the coppery skin of the Domani, but there were a fair number of Taraboners as well. And . . . were those Saldaeans? That was unexpected.