“My choice, Moiraine,” he muttered. “It was my choice.”
A few final points.
If Lan has not already gone, tell him that what I did to him, I did for the best. He will understand one day, and I hope, bless me for it.
Trust no woman fully who is now Aes Sedai. I do not speak simply of the Black Ajah, though you must always be watchful for them. Be as suspicious of Verin as you are of Alviarin. We have made the world dance as we sang for three thousand years. That is a difficult habit to break, as I have learned while dancing to your song. You must dance free, and even the best intentioned of my sisters may well try to guide your steps as I once did.
Please deliver Thom Merrilin's letter safely when you meet him again. There is a small matter that I once told him of which I must make clear for his peace of mind.
Lastly, be wary too of Master Jasin Natael. I cannot approve wholly, but I understand. Perhaps it was the only way. Yet be careful of him. He is the same man now that he always was. Remember that always.
May the Light illumine and protect you. You will do well.
It was signed simply “Moiraine.” She had almost never used her House name.
He reread the second last paragraph again closely. Somehow she had known who Asmodean was. It had to be that. Known that one of the Forsaken was right there in front of her, and never blinked once. She had known why, too, if he read it right. He would have thought in a letter that would go blank when he set it down, she could have come right out and said what she meant. Not just concerning Asmodean. About how she had learned what she had in Rhuidean — something to do with Wise Ones, or he missed his guess, and as much chance of finding out more from the letter as from them — about Aes Sedai — was there a reason she mentioned Verin? And why Alviarin instead of Elaida? — even about Thom and Lan. For some reason he did not think she had left a letter for Lan; the Warder was not the only one who believed in clean wounds. He almost took Thom's letter out and opened it, but she might have warded it the same way she had his. Aes Sedai and Cairhienin, she had wrapped herself in mystery and manipulation to the end. To the end.
That was what he was trying to avoid with all this blather about her keeping secrets. She had known what would happen and come as bravely as any Aiel. Come to her death knowing it waited. She had died because he could not bring himself to kill Lanfear. He could not kill one woman, so another died. His eyes fell on the last words.
. . . You will do well.
They cut like a cold razor.
“Why do you weep here alone, Rand al'Thor? I have heard that some wetlanders think it is shame to be seen weeping.”
He glared at Sulin, standing in the doorway. She was fully accoutered, cased bow on her back, quiver at her belt, round hide buckler and three spears in hand. “I'm not... ” There was dampness on his cheeks. He scrubbed it away. “It's hot in here. Makes me sweat like a... What do you want? I thought you had all decided to abandon me and go back to the Threefold Land.”
“It is not we who have abandoned you, Rand al'Thor.” Shutting the door behind her, she sat on the floor and laid her buckler and a pair of the spears down. “You have abandoned us.” In one motion she put a foot against the last spear between her hands, heaved, and snapped it in two.
“What are you doing?” She tossed aside the pieces and picked up another spear. “I said, what are you doing?” The whitehaired Maiden's face might have given even Lan pause, but Rand bent and seized the spear between her hands; her softbooted foot came to rest against his knuckles. Not lightly.
“Will you put us in skirts, and make us marry and tend hearth? Or are we to lie beside your fire and lick your hand when you give us a scrap of meat?” Her muscles tensed, and the spear broke, scoring his palm with splinters.
He snatched his freed hand back with a curse, shaking off droplets of blood. “I don't mean any such thing. I thought you understood.” She took up the last spear, set her foot, and he channeled, weaving Air to hold her as she was. She only stared at him wordlessly. “Burn me, you said nothing! So I kept the Maidens out of the battle with Couladin. Not everyone fought that day. And you never said a word.”
Sulin's eyes widened in incredulity. “You kept us from the dance of spears? We kept you from the dance. You were like a girl newly wed to the spear, ready to rush out and kill Couladin with never a thought for the spear you might take from behind. You are the Car'a'carn. You have no right to risk yourself needlessly.” Her voice flattened. “Now you go to fight the Forsaken. The secret is well kept, but I have heard enough from those who lead the other societies.”
“And you want to keep me out of this fight as well?” he said quietly.
“Do not be a fool, Rand al'Thor. Any could have danced the spears with Couladin; for you to risk it was the thinking of a child. None among us can face the Shadowsouled, save you.”
“Then why...?” He stopped; he already knew the answer. After that bloodsoaked day against Couladin, he had convinced himself they would not mind. He had wanted to believe they would not.
“Those who go with you have been chosen.” The words came like hurled stones. “Men from every society. Men. There are no Maidens, Rand al'Thor. Far Dareis Mai carries your honor, and you take ours away.”
He drew a deep breath, fumbling for words. “I... do not like to see a woman die. I hate it, Sulin. It curdles me up inside. I could not kill a woman if my life hung on it.” The pages of Moiraine's letter rustled in his hand. Dead because he could not kill Lanfear. Not always just his own life. “Sulin, I would rather go against Rahvin alone than see one of you die.”
“A foolish thing. Everyone needs another to watch her back. So it is Rahvin. Even Roidan of the Thunder Walkers and Turol of the Stone Dogs held that back.” She glanced at her upraised foot, held against the spear by the same flows that snared her arms. “Release me, and we will talk.”
After a moment's hesitation, he unraveled the weave. He was tensed to seize her again if need be, but she only crossed her legs and sat bouncing the spear on her palms. “Sometimes I forget you were raised out of our blood, Rand al'Thor. Listen to me. I am what I am. This is what I am.” She hefted the spear.
“Sulin —”
“Listen, Rand al'Thor. I am the spear. When a lover came between me and the spear, I chose the spear. Some chose the other way. Some decide they have run with the spears long enough, that they want a husband, a child. I have never wanted anything else. No chief would hesitate to send me wherever the dance is hottest. If I died there, my firstsisters would mourn me, but not a fingernail more than when our firstbrother fell. A treekiller who stabbed me to the heart in my sleep would do me more honor than you do. Do
