“Rand.” He did not know whose voice it was.
... reached for the core of who he was, the core of what he was ...
... will not ...
“Rand.” The song filled him, filled the emptiness
... touched stone, hot from a pitiless sun, cold from a merciless night ...... not ...
Light filled him, blinded him.
“Till shade is gone,” he mumbled, “till water is gone ...”
Power filled him. He was one with the sphere.
“... into the Shadow with teeth bared ... ”
The power was his. The Power was his.
“... to spit in Sightblinder' s eye ...”
Power to Break the World.
“... on the last day!” It came out as a shout, and the void was gone. Red shied at his cry; clay crumbled under the stallion's hoof, spilling into the pit. The big bay went to his knees. Rand leaned forward, gathering the reins, and Red scrambled to safety, away from the edge.
They were all staring at him, he saw. Selene, Loial, Hurin, all of them. “What happened?” The void ... He touched his forehead. The void had not gone when he released it, and the glow of saidin had grown stronger, and ... He could not remember anything more. Saidin. He felt cold. “Did I ... do something?” He frowned, trying to remember. “Did I say something?”
“You just sat there stiff as a statue,” Loial said, “mumbling to yourself no matter what anyone said. I couldn't make out what you were saying, not until you shouted 'day!' loud enough to wake the dead and nearly put your horse over the edge. Are you ill? You're acting more and more oddly every day.”
“I'm not sick,” Rand said harshly, then softened it. “I am all right, Loial. ” Selene watched him warily.
From the pit came the sound of men calling, the words indistinguishable.“Lord Rand,” Hurin said, “I think those guards have finally noticed us. If they know a way up this side, they could be here any minute.”
“Yes,” Selene said. “Let us leave here quickly.”
Rand glanced at the excavation, then away again, quickly. The great crystal held nothing except reflected light from the evening sun, but he did not want to look at it. He could almost remember ... something about the sphere. “I don't see any reason to wait for them. We didn't do anything. Let's find an inn.” He turned Red toward the village, and they soon left pit and shouting guards behind.
As many villages did, Tremonsien covered the top of a hill, but like the farms they had passed, this hill had been sculpted into terraces with stone retaining walls. Square stone houses sat on precise plots of land, with exact gardens behind, along a few straight streets that crossed each other at right angles. The necessity of a curve to streets going around the hill seemed begrudged.
Yet the people seemed open and friendly enough, pausing to nod to each other as they hurried about their last chores before nightfall. They were a short folk — none taller than Rand's shoulder, and few as tall as Hurin — with dark eyes and pale, narrow faces, and dressed in dark clothes except for a few who wore slashes of color across the chest. Smells of cooking — oddly spiced, to Rand's nose — filled the air, though a handful of goodwives still hung over their doors to talk; the doors were split, so the top could stand open while the bottom was closed. The people eyed the newcomers curiously, with no sign of hostility. A few stared a moment longer at Loial, an Ogier walking alongside a horse as big as a Dhurran stallion, but never more than a moment longer.
The inn, at the very top of the hill, was stone like every other building in the town, and plainly marked by a painted sign hanging over the wide doors. The Nine Rings. Rand swung down with a smile and tied Red to one of the hitching posts out front. “The Nine Rings” had been one of his favorite adventure stories when he was a boy; he supposed it still was.
Selene still seemed uneasy when he helped her dismount. “Are you all right?” he asked. “I didn't frighten you back there, did I? Red would never fall over a cliff with me.” He wondered what had really happened.
“You terrified me,” she said in a tight voice, “and I do not frighten easily. You could have killed yourself, killed ...” She smoothed her dress. “Ride with me. Tonight. Now. Bring the Horn, and I will stay by your side forever. Think of it. Me by your side, and the Horn of Valere in your hands. And that will only be the beginning, I promise. What more could you ask for?”
Rand shook his head. “I can't, Selene. The Horn ...” He looked around. A man looked out his window across the way, then twitched the curtains closed; evening darkened the street, and there was no one else in sight now except Loial and Hurin. “The Horn is not mine. I told you that.” She turned her back on him, her white cloak walling him off as effectively as bricks.
Chapter 21
(Harp)
The Nine Rings
Rand expected the common room to be empty, since it was nearly suppertime, but half a dozen men crowded one table, dicing among their jacks of ale, and another sat by himself over a meal. Though the dicers carried no weapons in sight and wore no armor, only plain coats and breeches of dark blue, something about the way they held themselves told Rand they were soldiers. His eyes went to the solitary man. An officer, with the tops of his high boots turned down, and his sword propped against the table beside his chair. A single slash of red and one of yellow crossed the chest of the officer's blue coat from shoulder to shoulder, and the front of his head was shaved, though his black hair hung long in the back. The soldiers' hair was clipped short, as if it all had been cut under the same bowl. All seven turned to look as Rand and the others came in.
The innkeeper was a lean woman with a long nose and graying hair, but her wrinkles seemed part of her ready smile more than anything else. She came bustling up, wiping her hands on a spotless white apron. “Good even to you” — her quick eyes took in Rand's goldembroidered red coat, and Selene's fine white dress — “my Lord, my Lady. I am Maglin Madwen, my Lord. Be welcome to The Nine Rings. And an Ogier. Not many of your kind come this way, friend Ogier. Would you be up from Stedding Tsofu, then?”
Loial managed an awkward half bow under the weight of the chest. “No, good innkeeper. I come the other way, from the Borderlands.”
“From the Borderlands, you say. Well. And you, my Lord? Forgive me for asking, but you've not the look of the Borderlands, if you don't
