The Gathering Storm

"This waiting in the city, it is frustrating," Merise continued.

"Our time in this city does seem to lack fruit," Corele agreed. "We should be moving on. You've heard that he is proclaiming that the Last Battle will begin soon."

Nynaeve felt a stab of worry for Lan, then anger toward Rand. He still thought that if he could stage his assault at the same time as Lan's attack on Tarwin's Gap, he could confuse his enemies. Lan's attack could very well be the beginning of the Last Battle. Why, then, wouldn't Rand commit troops to help?

"Yes," Cadsuane said, musingly, "he is probably right." Why did she keep that hood up? Rand obviously wasn't around.

e wasn't sure she was in the country. If he could find a messenger and Compulsion was there, he'd have enough. "I need to speak with anyone else who claims to have a message from the King," he said. "Others in the city who might have had contact."

"They will be found, Lord Dragon," said the prim Ramshalan.

Rand nodded absently. If Naeff set up the meeting with the Seanchan as hoped, then Rand could leave Arad Doman soon after. He hoped to leave them with a king, hoped to find and kill Graendal. But he would settle for peace with the Seanchan and food for these people. He could not solve everyone's problems. He could just force them into abeyance long enough for him to die at Shayol Ghul.

And thereby leave the world to break again once he was gone. He gritted his teeth. He had already wasted too much time worrying about things he could not fix.

Is that why I resist naming a Domani king? he thought. Once I die, that man would lose his authority, and Arad Doman would be back where it began. If I don't leave a king who has the support of the merchants, then I'm essentially offering the kingdom up to the Seanchan the moment I die.

So many things to balance. So many problems. He couldn't fix them all. He couldn't.

"I don't approve of this, Rand," Nynaeve said, standing beside the door, arms folded. "And we're not done talking about Lan, either."

Rand waved a dismissive hand.

"He's yout friend, Rand," Nynaeve said. "Light! And what of Perrin and Mat? Do you know where they are? What has happened to them?"

The colors swirled before his eyes, revealing an image of Perrin standing by a tent with Galad. Why was Perrin with Galad of all people? And when had Elayne's half-brother joined the Whitecloaks? The colors changed to Mat, riding through the streets of a familiar city. Caemlyn? Thorn was there, with him.

Rand frowned to himself. He could feel a pull from Perrin and Mat, both distant. It was their ta'veren natures, trying to draw them together. They both needed to be with him for the Last Battle.

"Rand?" Nynaeve asked. "Aren't you going to respond?"

"About Perrin and Mat?" Rand asked. "They live."

"How do you know?"

"I simply do." He sighed, shaking his head. "And they had better remain alive. I'll have need of them both before this is over."

"Rand!" she said. "They're your friends!"

"They're threads in the Pattern, Nynaeve," he said, rising. "I barely know them anymore, and I suspect they would say the same thing of me."

"Don't you care about them?"

"Care?" Rand walked down the steps of the raised platform that held his throne. "What I care about is the Last Battle. What I care about is making peace with the Light-cursed Seanchan so that I can stop bothering with their squabble and get to the real battle. Beside those cares, a pair of boys from my little village are meaningless."

He looked at her, challenging. Ramshalan and the other attendants backed away quietly, not wanting to be caught between his gaze and Nynaeve.

She was silent, although her face took on a profound sadness. "Oh, Rand," she finally said. "You can't go on like this. This hardness within you, it will break you."

"I do what I must," he said, anger creeping into him. Would he never hear the end of complaints about his choices?

"This isn't what you must do, Rand," she said. "You're going to destroy yourself. You'll—"

Rand's anger surged. He spun, pointing at her. "Would you end up exiled like Cadsuane, Nynaeve?" he bellowed. "I will not be played with! I am done with that. Give advice when it is asked for, and the rest of the time do not patronize me\"

She recoiled, and Rand gritted his teeth, forcing the anger back down. His lowered his hand, but realized it had begun to reach reflex-ively for the access key in the pocket at his side. Nynaeve's eyes fixed on it, opening wide, and he slowly forced his hand away from the statuette.

The explosion surprised him. He had thought his temper controlled. He forced it down, and had a surprisingly difficult time of it. He turned and stalked from the room, throwing open the door, his Maidens following him. "I will have no more audiences today," he told the attendants who tried to follow him. "Go and do as I have told you! I need the other members of the merchant council. Go!"