“What would you have me do? Hunt down the Forsaken one by one?” Again he forced himself to draw more slowly on the pipe; it was an effort. “Do you even know where they are? Oh, Sammael is in Illian — you know that — but the rest? What if I go after Sammael as you wish, and find two or three or four of them? Or all nine?”
“You could have faced three or four, perhaps all nine surviving,” she said icily, “had you not left Callandor in Tear. The truth is, you are running. You do not really have a plan, not a plan to ready you for the Last Battle. You run from place to place, hoping that in some way everything will come out for the best. Hoping, because you do not know what else to do. If you would take my advice, at least you —” He cut her off, gesturing sharply with his pipe, with never a care for the glares the two women gave him.
“I do have a plan.” If they wanted to know, let them know, and he would be burned if he changed a word. “First, I mean to put an end to the wars and killing, whether I started them or not. If men have to kill, let them kill Trollocs, not each other. In the Aiel War, four clans crossed the Dragonwall, and had their way for better than two years. They looted and burned Cairhien, defeated every army sent against them. They could have taken Tar Valon, had they wanted. The Tower couldn't have stopped them, because of your Three Oaths.” Not to use the Power as a weapon except against Shadowspawn or Darkfriends, or in defense of their own lives, that was another of the Oaths, and the Aiel had not threatened the Tower itself. Anger had him in its grip now. Running and hoping, was he? “Four clans did that. What will happen when I lead eleven across the Spine of the World?” It would have to be eleven; small hope of bringing in the Shaido. “By the time the nations even think of uniting, it will be too late. They'll accept my peace, or I'll be buried in the Can Breat.” A discordant plunk rose from the harp, and Natael bent over the instrument, shaking his head. In a moment the soothing sounds came again.
“A melon couldn't be swollen enough for your head,” Egwene muttered, folding her arms beneath her breasts. “And a stone couldn't be as stubborn! Moiraine is only trying to help you. Why won't you see that?”
The Aes Sedai smoothed her silk skirts, though they did not need it. “Taking the Aiel across the Dragonwall might be the worst thing you could possibly do.” There was an edge to her voice, anger or frustration. At least he was getting across to her that he was no puppet. “By this time, the Amyrlin Seat will be approaching the rulers of every nation that still has a ruler, laying the proofs before them that you are the Dragon Reborn. They know the Prophecies; they know what you were born to do. Once they are convinced of who and what you are, they will accept you because they must. The Last Battle is coming, and you are their only hope, humankind's only hope.”
Rand laughed out loud. It was a bitter laugh. Sticking his pipe between his teeth, he hoisted himself to sit crosslegged atop the table, staring at them. “So you and Siuan Sanche still think you know everything there is to know.” The Light willing, they did not know near everything about him, and would never find out. “You're both fools.”
“Show some respect!” Egwene growled, but Rand went on over her words.
“The Tairen High Lords know the Prophecies, too, and they knew me, once they saw the Sword That Cannot Be Touched clutched in my fist. Half of them expect me to bring them power or glory or both. The other half would as soon slip a knife in my back and try to forget the Dragon Reborn was ever in Tear. That is how the nations will greet the Dragon Reborn. Unless I quell them first, the same way I did the Tairens. Do you know why I left Callandor in Tear? To remind them of me. Every day they know it is there, driven into the Heart of the Stone, and they know I'll come back for it. That is what holds them to me.” That was one reason he had left the Sword That Is Not a Sword behind. He did not like even to think of the other.
“Be very careful,” Moiraine said after a moment. Just that, in a voice all frozen calm. He heard stark warning in the words. Once he had heard her say in much the same tone that she would see him dead before letting the Shadow have him. A hard woman.
For a long moment she gazed at him, her eyes dark pools that threatened to swallow him. Then she made a perfect curtsy. “By your leave, my Lord Dragon, I will see to letting Master Kadere know where I expect him to work tomorrow.”
No one could have seen or heard the faintest mockery in action or words, but Rand felt it. Anything that might put him off balance, make him more biddable by guilt or shame or uncertainty or whatever, she would try. He stared after her until the clicking beads in the doorway obscured her...
“There is no need you scowling like that, Rand al'Thor.” Egwene's voice was low, her eyes irate; she held on to her shawl as if she wanted to strangle him with it. “Lord Dragon, indeed! Whatever you are, you're a rude, illmannered lout. You deserve more than you got. It would not kill you to be civil!”
“So it was you,” he snapped, but to his surprise she halfshook her head before catching herself. It had been Moiraine after all. If the Aes Sedai was showing that much temper, something must be wearing at her terribly. Him, no doubt. Perhaps he should apologize. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to be civil. Though he could not see why he was supposed to be mannerly to the Aes Sedai while she tried to lead him on a leash.
But if he was thinking of trying to be polite, Egwene was not. If glowing coals were dark brown, they would have been exactly like her eyes. “You are a woolheaded fool, Rand al'Thor, and I should never have told Elayne you were good enough for her. You aren't good enough for a weasel! Bring your nose down. I remember you sweating, trying to talk your way out of some trouble Mat had gotten you into. I can remember Nynaeve switching you till you howled, and you needing a cushion to sit on the rest of the day. Not that many years gone, either. I ought to tell Elayne to forget you. If she knew half what you've turned into...”
He gaped at her as the tirade went on, with her more furious than at any time since first coming through the bead curtain. Then it hit him. That little near shake of her head that she had not meant to give, letting him know it had been Moiraine who struck him with the Power. Egwene worked very hard at doing what she was about in proper fashion. Studying with the Wise Ones, she wore Aiel clothes; she might even be trying to adopt Aiel customs, for all he knew. It would be like her. But she worked hard at being a proper Aes Sedai all the time, even if she was only one of the Accepted. Aes Sedai usually kept a rein on their tempers, but they never ever gave anything away
