“We should be seeing you home, Selene,” Rand said. “Your people will be worried about you.”
“A few days will see if I'm right,” she said impatiently. “Hurin can find where he left the trail; he said so. We can watch over it. The Horn of Valere cannot be much longer reaching here. The Horn of Valere, Rand. Think of it. The man who sounds the Horn will live in legend forever.”
“I don't want anything to do with legends,” he said sharply. But if the Darkfriends get by you ... What if Ingtar lost them? Then the Darkfriends have the Horn of Valere forever, and Mat dies. “All right, a few days. At the worst, we will probably meet Ingtar and the others. I can't imagine they've stopped or turned back just because we ... went away.”
“A wise decision, Rand,” Selene said, “and well thought out.” She touched his arm and smiled, and he found himself again thinking of kissing her.
“Uh ... we need to be closer to where they'll come. If they do come. Hurin, can you find us a camp before dark, somewhere we can watch the place where you lost the trail?” He glanced at the Portal Stone and thought about sleeping near it, thought of the way the void had crept up on him in sleep the last time, and the light in the void. “Somewhere well away from here.”
“Leave it in my hands, Lord Rand.” The sniffer scrambled to his saddle. “I vow, I'll never sleep again without first I see what kind of stone there is nearby.”
As Rand rode Red up out of the hollow, he found himself watching Selene more than he did Hurin. She seemed so cool and selfpossessed, no older than he, yet queenly, but when she smiled at him, as she did just then ... Egwene wouldn't have said I was wise. Egwene would have called me a woolhead. Irritably, he heeled Red's flanks.
Chapter 18
(Flame of Tar Valon)
To the White Tower
Egwene balanced on the heeling deck as the River Queen sped down the wide Erinin under clouddark skies, sails fullbellied, White Flame banner whipping furiously at the mainmast. The wind had risen as soon as the last of them was aboard the ships, back in Medo, and it had not failed or flagged for an instant since, day or night. The river had begun to race in flood, as it still did, slapping the ships about while it drove them onward. Wind and river had not slowed, and neither had the ships, all clustered together. The River Queen led, only right for the vessel that carried the Amyrlin Seat.
The helmsman held his tiller grimly, feet planted and spread, and sailors padded barefoot at their work, intent on what they did; when they glanced at the sky or the river, they tore their eyes away with low mutters. A village was just fading from view behind, and a boy raced along the bank; he had kept up with the ships for a short distance, but now they were leaving him behind. When he vanished, Egwene made her way below.
In the small cabin they shared, Nynaeve glared up at her from her narrow bed. “They say we'll reach Tar Valon today. The Light help me, but I'll be glad to put foot on land again even if it is in Tar Valon.” The ship lurched with wind and current, and Nynaeve swallowed. “I'll never step on a boat again,” she said breathlessly.
Egwene shook the river spray out of her cloak and hung it on a peg by the door. It was not a big cabin — there were no big cabins on the ship, it seemed, not even the one the Amyrlin had taken over from the captain, though that was larger than the rest. With its two beds built into the walls, shelves beneath them and cabinets above, everything lay close to hand.
Except for keeping her balance, the movements of the ship did not bother her the way they did Nynaeve; she had given up offering Nynaeve food after the third time the Wisdom threw the bowl at her. “I'm worried about Rand,” she said.
“I'm worried about all of them,” Nynaeve replied dully. After a moment, she said, “Another dream last night? The way you've been staring at nothing since you got up ...”
Egwene nodded. She had never been very good at keeping things from Nynaeve, and she had not tried with the dreams. Nynaeve had tried to dose her at first, until she heard one of the Aes Sedai was interested; then she began to believe. “It was like the others. Different, but the same. Rand is in some kind of danger. I know it. And it is getting worse. He's done something, or he's going to do something, that puts him in ...” She dropped down on her bed and leaned toward the other woman. “I just wish I could make some sense of it.”
“Channeling?” Nynaeve said softly.
Despite herself, Egwene looked around to see if anyone was there to hear. They were alone, with the door closed, but still she spoke just as softly. “I don't know. Maybe.” There was no telling what Aes Sedai could do — she had seen enough already to make her believe every story of their powers — and she would not risk eavesdropping. I won't risk Rand. If I did right, I'd tell them, but Moiraine knows, and she hasn't said anything. And it's Rand! I can't. “I don't know what to do.”
“Has Anaiya said anything more about these dreams?” Nynaeve seemed to make it a point never to add the honorific Sedai, even when the two of them were alone. Most of the Aes Sedai appeared not to care, but the habit had earned a few strange looks, and some hard ones; she was going to train in the White Tower, after all.
“'The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills,'” Egwene quoted Anaiya. “'The boy is far away, child, and there's nothing we can do until we know more. I will see to testing you myself once we reach the White Tower, child.' Aaagh! She knows there is something in these dreams. I can tell she does. I like the woman, Nynaeve; I do. But she won't tell me what I want to know. And I can't tell her everything. Maybe if I could ...”
“The man in the mask again?”
Egwene nodded. Somehow, she was sure it was better not to tell Anaiya about him. She could not imagine why, but she was sure. Three times the man whose eyes were fire had been in her dreams each time when she dreamed a dream that convinced her Rand was in danger. He always wore a mask across his face; sometimes she could see his eyes, and sometimes she could only see fire where they should be. “He laughed at me. It was so ... contemptuous. As though I were a puppy he was going to have to push out of his way with his foot. It frightens me. He frightens me.”
“Are you sure it has anything to do with the other dreams, with Rand? Sometimes a dream is just a dream.”
Egwene threw up her hands. “And sometimes, Nynaeve, you sound just like Anaiya Sedai!” She put a special emphasis on the title, and was pleas
