Tam stepped up beside him.
"I'm afraid I lost your sword," Rand found himself saying. It felt foolish.
"That's all right," Tam said. "I don't know that I ever deserved the thing anyway."
"Were you really a blademaster?"
Tam nodded. "I suppose. I killed a man who was one, did it in front of witnesses, but I've never forgiven myself for it. Though it needed doing."
"The ones that need to be done often seem the ones that we least like to have to do."
"That's the truth if I've ever heard it," Tam said, sighing softly, leaning on the balcony railing. Lit windows were beginning to shine in the darkness below. "It's so strange. My boy, the Dragon Reborn. All of those stories I heard when traveling the world, I'm part of them."
"Think how it feels for me," Rand said.
Tam chuckled. "Yes. Yes, I suppose you understand exactly what I mean, don't you? Funny, isn't it?"
"Funny?" Rand shook his head. "No. Not, that. My life isn't my own. I'm a puppet for the Pattern and the prophecies, made to dance for the world before having my strings cut."
Tam frowned. "That's not true, son. Er, my Lord."
"I can't see it any other way."
Tam crossed his arms on the smooth stone railing. "I guess I can understand. I remember some of those emotions myself, during the days when I was a soldier. You know that I fought against Tear? You'd think I would have painful memories, coming here. But one enemy often comes to seem like another. I don't bear any grudges."
Rand rested the access key on the railing, but held it tightly. He did not lean down; he remained straight-backed.
"A soldier doesn't have a lot of choices for his own destiny either," Tarn said, tapping softly on the railing with an idle ringer. "More important men make all the decisions. Men, well, I guess men like you."
"But my choices are made for me by the Pattern itself," Rand said. "I have less freedom than the soldiers. You could have run, deserted. Or at least gotten out by legal means."
"And you can't run?" Tarn asked.
"I don't think the Pattern would let me," Rand said. "What I do is too important. It would just force me back in line. It has done so a dozen times already."
"And would you really want to run?" Tam asked.
Rand didn't reply.
"I could have left those wars. But, at the same time, I couldn't have. Not without betraying who I was. I think it's the same for you. Does it matter if you can run, when you know that you're not going to?"
"I'm going to die at the end of this," Rand said. "And I have no choice."
Tam stood up straight, frowning. In an instant, Rand felt that he was twelve years old again. "I won't have talk like that," Tam said. "Even if you're the Dragon Reborn, I won't listen to it. You always have a choice. Maybe you can't pick where you are forced to go, but you still have a choice."
"But how?"
Tam laid a hand on Rand's shoulder. "The choice isn't always about what you do, son, but why you do it. When I was a soldier, there were some men who fought simply for the money. There were others who fought for loyalty—loyalty to their comrades, or to the crown, or to whatever. The soldier who dies for money and the soldier who dies for loyalty are both dead, but there's a difference between them. One death meant something. The other didn't.
"I don't know if it's true that you'll need to die for this all to play out. But we both know you aren't going to run from it. Changed though you are, I can see that some things are the same. So I won't stand any whining on the subject."
"I wasn't whining—" Rand began.
"I know," Tam said. "Kings don't whine, they deliberate." He seemed to be quoting someone, though Rand had no idea who. Oddly, Tam gave a brief chuckle. "It doesn't matter," Tam continued. "Rand, I think you can survive this. I can't imagine that the Pattern won't give you some peace, considering the service you're doing for us all. But you're a soldier going to war, and the first thing a soldier learns is that you might die. You may not be able to choose the duties you're given. But you can choose why you fulfill them. Why do you go to battle, Rand?"
"Because I must."
"That's not good enough," Tarn said. "To the crows with that woman! I wish she'd come to me sooner. If I'd known—"