The Gathering Storm

Once that would have gotten a reaction from him, if only a huff of annoyance. Now he just looked at her. Those eyes of his seemed, at times, the part of him that had changed the most.

He sighed. "Why have you wakened me, Nynaeve? Who is this spindly, terrified youth? If it had been anyone else who sent that message this time of night, I'd have sent them to Bashere for a flogging."

Nynaeve nodded at Kerb. "I think this 'spindly, terrified youth' knows where the King is."

That got Rand's attention, and Min's as well. She'd poured herself a cup of tea and was leaning against a wall. Why weren't they married?

"The King?" Rand asked. "Graendal too, then. How do you know this, Nynaeve? Where did you find him?"

"At the dungeon where you sent Milisair Chadmar," Nynaeve said, eyeing him. "It is terrible, Rand al'Thor. You have no right to treat a person in such a manner.'

He didn't rise to that comment either. Instead, he simply walked over to Kerb. "He heard something from the interrogation?"

"No," Nynaeve said. "But I think he killed the messenger. I know for a fact that he tried to poison Milisair. She'd have been dead by the end of the week if I hadn't Healed her."

Rand glanced at Nynaeve, and she could almost feel him connecting the comments to figure out what she had been doing. "You Aes Sedai," he finally said, "share much with rats, I have come to realize. You are always in places where you are not wanted."

Nynaeve snorted. "If I'd stayed away, then Milisair would be dying and Kerb would be free."

"I assume you've asked him who ordered him to kill the messenger."

"Not yet," Nynaeve said. "I did find the poison among his things, however, and confirmed that he had prepared food both for Milisair and for the messenger." She hesitated before continuing. "Rand, I'm not certain that he'll be able to answer our questions. I Delved him, and while he's not sick physically, there's . . . something there. In his mind."

"What do you mean?" Rand asked softly.

"A block of some sort," Nynaeve said. "The jailer seemed frustrated— even surprised—that the messenger had been able to resist his 'questioning.' I think there must have been some block on that man too, something to keep him from revealing too much."

"Compulsion," Rand said. He spoke offhandedly, raising his tea to his lips.

Compulsion was dark, evil. She'd felt it herself; she still shivered when she considered what Moghedien had done to her. And that had been only a small thing, removing some memories.

"Few are as skilled with Compulsion as Graendal," Rand said musingly. "Perhaps this is the confirmation I've been looking for. Yes . . . this could be a great discovery indeed, Nynaeve. Great enough to make me forget how you obtained it."

Rand rounded the bench and leaned down to meet the young man's eyes.

"Release him," Rand commanded her.

She complied.

"Tell me," Rand said to Kerb, "who told you to poison those people?"

"I don't know anything!" the boy squeaked. "I just—"

"Stop," Rand said softly. "Do you believe that I can kill you?"

The boy fell silent and—though Nynaeve wouldn't have thought it possible—his blue eyes opened wider.

"Do you believe that if I simply said the word," Rand continued in his eerie, quiet voice, "your heart would stop beating? I am the Dragon Reborn. Do you believe that I can take your life, or your soul itself, if I so much as will it to happen?"

Nynaeve saw it again, the patina of darkness around Rand, that aura that she couldn't quite be certain was there. She raised her tea to her lips— and found that it had suddenly grown bitter and stale, as if it had been left to sit too long.

Kerb slouched down and began to cry.

"Speak," Rand commanded.

The youth opened his mouth, but only a groan came out. He was so transfixed by Rand that he didn't—or couldn't—blink the sweat from his eyes.

"Yes," Rand said thoughtfully. "This is Compulsion, Nynaeve. She's here! I was right." He looked at Nynaeve. "You will have to unravel the web of Compulsion, wipe it from his mind, before he can tell us what he knows."