The Aiel women stopped ten paces upslope from the gathering around the Portal Stone and the grandmotherly woman spread her open hands, speaking in an aged yet powerful voice. “The peace of Rhuidean be on you. Who comes to Chaendaer may return to their holds in peace. There shall be no blood on the ground.”
With that the Aiel from Tear began to separate, quickly apportioning the pack animals and the contents of the hampers. They were not dividing by societies now; Egwene saw Maidens going with several groups, some of which immediately began making their way around the mountain, avoiding each other and the camps, peace of Rhuidean or no. Others strode toward one or the other large cluster of tents, where finally weapons were being put down.
Not everyone had been sure of the peace of Rhuidean. Lan released the hilt of his stillsheathed sword, although Egwene had not seen him put his hands on it, and Mat hastily slipped a pair of knives back into his sleeves. Rand stood with his thumbs tucked behind his belt, but there was clear relief in his eyes.
Egwene looked for Aviendha, to ask a few questions before she approached Amys. Surely the Aiel woman would be a little more forthcoming about the Wise Ones here, in her own land. She spotted the Maiden, carrying a large clinking jute sack, and two rolled wall hangings over her shoulder, as she started briskly for one of the big encampments.
“You will stay, Aviendha,” the Wise One with gray streaks in her hair said loudly. Aviendha stopped in her tracks, not looking at anyone.
Egwene started to go to her, but Moiraine murmured, “Best not to interfere. I doubt she will want sympathy, or see anything else if you offer it.”
Egwene nodded in spite of herself. Aviendha did look as if she wanted to be left alone. What did the Wise Ones want with her? Had she broken some rule, some law?
She herself would not have minded some more company. She felt very exposed standing there with no Aiel around her, and all those among the tents watching. The Aiel who had come from the Stone had been courteous even when not exactly friendly; the watchers looked neither. It was a temptation to embrace saidar. Only Moiraine, serene and cool as ever despite perspiration on her face, and Lan, as unperturbed as the rocks around them, kept her from it. They would know if there was danger. As long as they accepted the situation, she would. But she did wish those Aiel would stop staring.
Rhuarc climbed the slope with a smile. “I am come back, Amys, though not by the way you expected, I will wager.”
“I knew you would be here today, shade of my heart.” She reached up to touch his cheek, letting her brown shawl fall down onto her arms. “My sisterwife sends her heart to you.”
“That's what you meant about Dreaming,” Egwene said softly to Moiraine. Lan was the only other close enough to hear. “That's why you were willing to let Rand try to bring us here by Portal Stone. They knew about it, and told you in that letter. No, that doesn't make sense. If they had mentioned a Portal Stone, you wouldn't have tried talking him out of it. They knew we'd be here, though.”
Moiraine nodded without taking her eyes from the Wise Ones. “They wrote that they would meet us here, on Chaendaer, today. I thought it... unlikely... until Rand mentioned the Stones. When he was sure — certain beyond my dissuading — that one existed here... Let us just say it suddenly seemed very likely we would reach Chaendaer today.”
Egwene took a deep breath of hot air. So that was one of the things Dreamers could do. She could not wait to start learning. She wanted to go after Rhuarc and introduce herself to Amys — reintroduce herself — but Rhuarc and Amys were looking into one another's eyes in a way that excluded intruders.
A man had come out from each of the camps, one tall and broadshouldered, flamehaired and still short of his middle years, the other older and darker, no less tall but more slender. They stopped a few paces to either side of Rhuarc and the Wise Ones. The older, leatheryfaced man carried no visible weapon except his heavy bladed belt knife, but the other carried spears and hide buckler, and held his head high with a fiercely prideful scowl directed at Rhuarc.
Rhuarc ignored him, turning to the older man. “I see you, Heirn. Has one of the sept chiefs decided I am already dead? Who seeks to take my place?”
“I see you, Rhuarc. No one of the Taardad has entered Rhuidean or seeks to. Amys said she would come meet you here today, and these other Wise Ones traveled with her. I brought these men of the Jindo sept to see they arrived safely.”
Rhuarc nodded solemnly. Egwene had the feeling something important had just been said, or hinted at. The Wise Ones did not look at the fieryhaired man, and neither did Rhuarc or Heirn, but from the color rising in the fellow's cheeks, they might as well have been staring at him. She glanced at Moiraine and got a tiny shake of the head; the Aes Sedai did not understand either.
Lan leaned down between them, speaking quietly. “A Wise One can go anywhere safely, into any hold regardless of clan. I think not even blood feud touches a Wise One. This Heirn came to protect Rhuarc from whoever the other camp is, but it would not be honorable to say it.” Moiraine lifted one eyebrow a trifle, and he added, “I don't know much of them, but I fought them often before I met you. You have never asked me about them.”
“I will remedy that,” the Aes Sedai said dryly.
Turning back to the Wise Ones and the three men made Egwene's head swim. Lan pushed an unstoppered leather water bottle into her hands, and she tilted her head back to drink gratefully. The water was lukewarm and smelled of leather, but in the heat it tasted fresh from the spring. She offered the half empty bottle to Moiraine, who drank sparingly and handed it back. Egwene was glad to gulp down the rest, closing her eyes; water splashed over her head, and she opened them again quickly. Lan was emptying another water bottle over her, and Moiraine's hair already dripped.
“This heat can kill if you are not used to it,” the Warder explained as he wet down a pair of plain white linen scarves pulled from his coat. At his instructions, she and Moiraine tied the soaked cloths around their foreheads. Rand and Mat were doing the same. Lan left his own head unprotected to the sun; nothing seemed to faze the man.
The silence between Rhuarc and the Aielmen with him had stretched out, but the clan chief finally turned to the flamehaired man. “Do the Shaido lack a clan chief, then, Couladin?”
“Suladric is dead,” the man answered. “Muradin has entered Rhuidean. Should he fail, I will enter.”
“You have not asked, Couladin,” the grandmotherly Wise One said in that reedy yet strong voice. “Should Muradin fail, ask then. We are four, enough to say yes or no.”
“It is my right, Bair,” Couladin said angrily. He had the look of a man not used to being balked.
“It is your right to ask,” the thin voiced woman replied. “It is ours to answer. I do not think you will be allowed to enter, whatever happens to Muradin. You are flawed within, Couladin.” She shifted her gray shawl, rewrapping it around her angular shoulders in a way that suggested she had said more than she considered necessary.
The flamehaired man's face grew red. “My firstbrother will return marked as clan chief, and we will lead the Shaido to great honor! We mean to —!” He snapped his mouth shut, almost quivering.
Egwene thought she would keep an eye on him if he remained anywhere close to her. He reminded her of the Congars and the Coplins back home, full of boasts and trouble. She had certainly never before seen any Aiel display so much raw emotion.
Amys seemed to have dismissed him already. “There is one who came with you, Rhuarc,” she said. Egwene expected the woman to speak to her, but Amys's eyes swept straight to Rand. Moiraine was obviously not surprised. Egwene wondered what had been in that letter from these four Wise Ones that the Aes Sedai had not revealed.
Rand looked taken aback for a moment, hesitating, but then he strode up the slope to stand near Rhuarc at eye level to the women. Sweat plastered his white shirt to his body and made darker patches on his breeches. With a twisted white cloth tied around his head, he certainly did not look so grand as he had in the Heart of the Stone. He made an odd bow; left foot advanced, left hand on knee, right hand outstretched palm upward.
“By the right of blood,” he said, “I ask leave to enter Rhuidean, for the honor of our ancestors and the memory of what was.”
Amys blinked in evident surprise, arid Bair murmured, “An ancient form, but the question has been asked. I answer yes.”
“I also answer yes, Bair,” Amys said. “Seana?”
“This man is no Aiel,” Couladin broke in angrily. Egwene suspected he was very nearly always angry. “It is death for him to be on this ground! Why has Rhuarc brought him? Why —?”
“Do you wish to be a Wise One, Couladin?” Bair asked, a frown deepening the creases on her face. “Put on a dress and come to me, and I will see if you can be trained. Until then, be silent when Wise Ones speak!”
“My mother was Aiel,” Rand said in a strained voice.
Egwene stared at him. Kari al'Thor had died while Egwene was barely out of her cradle, but if Tam's wife had been Aiel, Egwene would certainly have heard of it. She glanced at Moiraine; the Aes Sedai was watching, smooth faced, calm. Rand did look a great deal like the Aielmen, with his height and gray blue eyes and reddish hair, but this was ridiculous.
“Not your mother,” Amys said slowly. “Your father.” Egwene shook her head. This approached madness. Rand opened his mouth, but Amys did not let him speak. “Seana, how do you say?”
“Yes,” the woman with gray streaked hair said. “Melaine?”
The last of the four, a handsome woman with goldenred hair, no more than ten or fifteen years older than Egwene, hesitated. “It must be done,” she said finally, and unwillingly. “I answer yes.”
“You have been answered,” Amys told Rand. “You may go into Rhuidean, and —” She cut off as Mat scrambled up to copy Rand's bow awkwardly.
“I also ask to enter Rhuidean,” he said shakily.
The four Wise Ones stared at him. Rand's head whipped around in surprise. Egwene thought no one could be more shocked than she was, but Couladin proved her wrong. Lifting one of his spears with a snarl, he stabbed at Mat's chest.
The glow of saidar surrounded Amys and Melaine, and flows of Air lifted the fiery haired man and flung him back a dozen paces.
Egwene stared, wide eyed. They could channel. At least, two of them could. Suddenly Amys's youthfully smooth features beneath that white hair leaped out at her for what they were, something very close to Aes Sedai agelessness. Moiraine was absolutely still. Egwene could almost hear her thoughts buzzing, though. This was plainly as much of a surprise to the Aes Sedai as to herself.
Couladin scrambled to his feet in a crouch. “You accept this outlander as one of us,” he rasped, pointing at Rand with the spear he had attempted to use on Mat. “If you say it, then so be it. He is still a soft wetlander, and Rhuidean will kill him.” The spear swung to Mat, who was trying to slip a knife back up his sleeve without being noticed. “But he — it is death for him to be here, and sacrilege for him to even ask to enter Rhuidean. None but those of the blo
