The Gathering Storm

"You don't expect her to believe that story you told him," Min said. "About sending him out to test the allegiance of the Domani lords?"

Rand slowly shook his head. "No. I hope for her to believe something of that tale, but I do not expect it. I meant what I said about her, Min— she's more crafty than I am. And I fear that she knows me far better than I know her. She will compel Ramshalan and pull from him that entire conversation we had. From there, she will find a way to use that conversation against me."

"How?" Min asked.

"I don't know. I wish I did. She'll think of something clever, then infect Ramshalan with a very subtle Compulsion that I won't be able to anticipate. I'll be left with the choice to keep him nearby and see what he does, or to send him away. But of course, she will think of that as well, and whatever I do will set in motion her other plans."

"You make it sound as if you can't win," Nynaeve said, frowning. She didn't seem to notice the chill at all. In fact, neither did Rand. Whatever that "trick" about ignoring cold and heat was, Min had never been able to figure it out. They claimed it had nothing to do with the power, but if that were so, why were Rand and the Aes Sedai the only ones who could manage it? The Aiel didn't seem to be bothered by the cold either, but they didn't count. They never seemed bothered by regular human concerns, though they could be very touchy about the most random and insignificant things.

"We can't win, you say?" Rand asked. "Is that what we're trying to do? Win?"

Nynaeve raised an eyebrow. "Do you not answer questions anymore?"

Rand turned, looking at Nynaeve. Standing on the other side of him, Min couldn't see what was in his face, but she could see Nynaeve grow pale. It was her own fault. Couldn't she sense how on edge Rand was? Perhaps Min's chill didn't just come from the cold. She moved up close to him, but he didn't put his arm around her as he might once have. When he finally turned away from Nynaeve, the Aes Sedai slumped slightly, as if she had been dangling, held up by his gaze.

Rand did not speak for some time, and so they waited quietly on the mountain ridge as the distant sun made its way toward the horizon. Shadows lengthened, fingers stretching away from the sun. Down below, by the fortress walls, a group of grooms began walking some horses to give them exercise. More lights had been lit in the fortress windows. How many people did Graendal have in there? Scores, if not hundreds.

A crashing sound in the brush suddenly drew Min's attention; it was accompanied by curses. She jumped as the noise cut off quite abruptly.

A small group of Aiel approached a few moments later, leading a disheveled Ramshalan, his fine clothing stuck with needles and scratched from branches. He dusted himself off, then took a step toward Rand.

The Maidens held him back. He glanced at them, cocking his head. "My Lord Dragon?"

"Is he infected?" Rand asked of Nynaeve.

"By what?" she asked.

"Graendal's touch."

Nynaeve walked over to Ramshalan and looked at him for a moment. She hissed and said, "Yes. Rand, he's under a heavy Compulsion. There are a lot of weaves here. Not as bad as the chandler's apprentice, or maybe just more subtle."

"I say," Ramshalan said, "my Lord Dragon, what is going on? The lady of the castle down there was quite friendly—she is an ally, my Lord. You have nothing to fear from her! Very refined, I must say."

"Is that so?" Rand asked quietly. It was growing dark, sun setting behind the distant mountains. Besides the dim evening light, the only illumination came from the still-open gateway behind them. It shone with lamplight, an inviting portal back to warmth, away from this place of shadow and coldness.

Rand's voice sounded so hard. Worse than Min had ever heard it before.

"Rand," she said, touching his arm. "Let's go back."

"I have something I must do," he said, not looking at her.

"Think about it some more," Min said. "At least take some advice. We can ask Cadsuane, or—"

"Cadsuane held me in a box, Min," he said very softly. His face was clasped in shadow, but as he turned toward her, his eyes reflected the light from the open gateway. Orange and red. There was an edge of anger to his tone. / shouldn't have mentioned Cadsuane, she realized. The woman's name was one of the few things that could still get emotion out of him.

"A box, Min," Rand whispered. "Though Cadsuane's box had walls that were invisible, it was as binding as any that ever held me. Her tongue was far more painful a rod than any that was taken to my skin. I see that now."

Rand pulled away from Min's touch.

"What is the purpose of all this?" Nynaeve demanded. "You sent this man to suffer a Compulsion, knowing what it would do to him? I won't watch another man squirm and die because of this! Whatever she has compelled him to do, I won't remove it! It will be your own fault if it brings your death."

"My Lord?" Ramshalan asked. The growing terror in his voice put Min on edge.

The sun set; Rand was now just a silhouette. The fortress was only a black profile with lanterns lighting the holes in its walls. Rand stepped up to the lip of the ridge, removing the access key from his pocket. It started to glow just faintly, a red light coming from its very heart. Nynaeve inhaled sharply.

"Neither of you were there when Callandor failed me," he said into the night. "It happened twice. Once I tried to use it to raise the dead, but I got only a puppeted body. Once I tried to use it to destroy the Seanchan, but I caused as much death among my own armies as I caused among theirs.

"Cadsuane told me that the second failure came from a flaw in Callandor itself. It cannot be controlled by a lone man, you see. It only works if he's in a box. Callandor is a carefully enticing leash, intended to make me surrender willingly."