Tam and Abell paused with spoons halfway to their mouths, exchanging surprised looks; clearly they had gone their own way and the Aes Sedai theirs before this. After a moment they resumed eating, although with pensive frowns. They left any objections unvoiced. Tomas, his Warder's cloak already packed away in his saddlebags, gave them — and Perrin — a hardfaced stare anyway, as if he anticipated arguments and meant to stamp them out. Warders did whatever was necessary for an Aes Sedai to do what she wanted.
She intended to meddle, of course — Aes Sedai always did — but having her where he could see her was surely better than leaving her behind his back. Avoiding Aes Sedai entanglements completely was all but impossible when they meant to dabble their fingers in; the only course was to try to use them while they used you, to watch and hope you could jump clear if they decided to stuff you headfirst, like a ferret, down a rabbithole. Sometimes the rabbithole turned out to her a badger's sett, which was hard on the ferret.
“You would be welcome, too,” he told Alanna, but she gave him a frosty stare that stopped him in his tracks. She had disdained the porridge, and stood at one of the vineshrouded windows, peering through the leafy screen.
He could not say whether she was pleased with his plans for a scout. Reading her seemed near to impossible. Aes Sedai were supposed to be cool serenity itself, and she was that, but Alanna tossed off flashes of fiery temper or unpredictable humor when least expected, like heat lightning, crackling then gone. Sometimes she looked at him so that if she had not been Aes Sedai he would have thought she was admiring him. Other times he might as well have been some complicated mechanism she meant to disassemble in order to puzzle out bow it worked. Even Verin had the better of that; most of the time she was just plain unreadable. Unnerving, on occasion, but at least he did not have to wonder if she was going to know how to fit his pieces back together.
He wished he could make Faile stay there — that was not the same as leaving her behind, just keeping her safe from Whitecloaks — but she had that stubborn set to her jaw and a dangerous light in her tilted eyes. “I look forward to seeing some of your country. My father raises sheep. ” Her tone was definite; she was not going to stay unless he tied her up.
For a moment he came close to considering it. But the danger from Whitecloaks should not be that great; he only intended to look, today. “I thought he was a merchant,” he said.
“He raises sheep, too.” Spots of crimson bloomed in her cheeks: maybe her father was a poor man and not a merchant at all. He did not know why she would pretend, but if that was what she wanted, he would not try to stop her. Embarrassed or not, however, she looked no less stubborn.
He remembered Master Cauthon's method. “I don't know how much you'll see. Some farms may be shearing, I suppose. Probably no different from what your father does. I'll be glad of your company in any case.” The startlement on her face when she realized he was not going to argue was almost worth the worry of her coming along. Maybe Abell had something.
Loial was another matter altogether.
“But I want to go,” the Ogier protested when told he could not. “I want to help, Perrin.”
“You will stand out, Master Loial,” Abell said, and Tam added, “We need to avoid attracting any more attention than we must.” Loial's ears drooped dejectedly.
Perrin drew him aside, as far from the others as the room would allow. Loial's shaggy hair brushed the roof beams until Perrin motioned him to lean down. Perrin smiled, just jollying him along. He hoped everyone else believed that.
“I want you to keep an eye on Alanna,” he said in a near whisper. Loial gave a start, and he caught the Ogier's sleeve, still smiling like a fool. “Grin, Loial. We are not talking about anything important, right?” The Ogier managed an uncertain smile. It would have to do. Aes Sedai do what they do for their own reasons, Loial.“ And that might be what you least expected, or not at all what you believed it was. ”Who knows what she might take into her head? I've had surprises enough since coming home, and I don't want one of hers added to it. I don't expect you to stop her, only notice anything out of the ordinary.
“Thank you for that,” Loial muttered wryly, ears jerking. “Do you not think it best to just let Aes Sedai do what they want?” That was easy for him to say; Aes Sedai could not channel inside an Ogier stedding. Perrin just looked at him, and after a moment, the Ogier sighed. “I suppose not. Oh, very well. I can never say being around you is not... interesting.” Straightening, he rubbed a thick finger under his nose and told the others, “I suppose I would draw eyes at that. Well, it will give me a chance to work on my notes. I have done nothing on my book in days.”
Verin and Alanna shared an unreadable look, then turned twin unblinking gazes on Perrin. There was simply no telling what either thought.
The pack animals had to be left behind, of course. Packhorses would surely occasion comment, speaking of long travel; no one in the Two Rivers traveled very far from home in the best of times. Alanna wore a slight, satisfied smile while watching them saddle their mounts, no doubt believing the animals and wicker hampers tied him to the old sickhouse, to her and Verin. She was in for a surprise, if it came to that. He had lived out of a saddlebag often enough since leaving home. For that matter, he had lived out of his belt pouch and coat pockets.
He straightened from tightening Stepper's saddle girth and gave a start. Verin was watching him with a knowing expression, not vague at all, as if she knew what he was thinking and was amused. It was bad enough when Faile did that sort of thing; from an Aes Sedai, it was a hundred times worse. The hammer lashed with his blanket roll and saddlebags seemed to puzzle her, though. He was glad there was something she did not seem to understand. On the other hand, he could have done without her being so intrigued. What could be fascinating to an Aes Sedai about a hammer?
With only the riding animals to prepare, it took no time at all to be ready to go. Verin had a nondescript brown gelding, as plain to the untrained eye as her garb, but its deep chest and strong rump suggested as much endurance as her Warder's ferociouseyed gray, tall and sleek. Stepper snorted at the other stallion until Perrin patted the dun's neck. The gray was more disciplined — and just as ready to fight, if Tomas let it. The Warder controlled his animal with his knees as much as his reins, the two seeming almost one.
Master Cauthon watched Tomas's horse with interest — wartrained mounts were not much seen in these pails — but Verin's earned an approving nod at first glance. He was as good a judge of horseflesh as there was in the Two Rivers. No doubt he had chosen his and Master al'Thor's roughcoated animals, not so tall as the other horses, but sturdy, with gaits that spoke of good speed and staying power.
The three Aiel glided ahead as the party started north, with long strides that carried them out of sight quickly in the woods, earlymorning shadows sharp and long in the brightness of sunrise. Now and then a flash of grayandbrown was visible through the trees, probably on purpose, to let the others know they were there. Tam and Abell took the lead, bows across the tall pommels of their saddles, with Perrin and Faile behind, and Verin and Tomas bringing up the rear.
Perrin could have done without Verin's eyes on his back. He could feel them between his shoulder blades. He wondered if she knew about the, wolves. Not a comfortable thought. Brown sisters supposedly knew things the other Ajahs did not, obscure things, old knowledge. Perhaps she knew how he could avoid losing himself, what was human in him, to the wolves. Short of finding Elyas Machera again, she might be his best chance. All he had to do was trust her. Whatever she knew she would likely use, certainly to help the White Tower, probably to help Rand. The only trouble was that helping Rand might not bring what he wanted now. Everything would have been so much simpler without any Aes Sedai.
Mostly they rode in silence except for the sounds of the forest, squirrels and woodpeckers and occasional birdsong. At one point Faile glanced back. “She will not harm you,” she said, her soft tone clashing with the fierce light in her dark eyes.
Perrin blinked. She meant to protect him. Against Aes Sedai. He was never going to understand her, or know what to expect next. She was about as confusing as the Aes Sedai sometimes.
They broke out of the Westwood perhaps four or five miles north of Emond's Field with the sun standing its own height above the trees to the east. Scattered copses, mainly leatherleaf and pine and oak, lay between them and the nearest hedged fields of barley and oats, tabac and tall grass for hay. Strangely there was no one in sight, no smoke rising from the farmhouse chimneys beyond the fields. Perrin knew the people who lived there, the al'Loras in two of the big houses, the Barsteres in the others. Hardworking folk. If there had been anyone in those houses, they would have been at their labors long since. Gaul waved from the edge of a thicket, then vanished into the trees.
Perrin heeled Stepper up beside Tam and Abell. “Shouldn't we stay under cover as long as we can? Six people on horses won't go unnoticed.” They kept their mounts at a steady walk.
“Not many to notice us, lad,” Master al'Thor replied, “as long as we stay away from the North Road. Most farms have been abandoned, close by to the woods. Anyway, nobody travels alone these days, not far from their own doorstep. Ten people together wouldn't be noticed twice nowadays, though mostly folk travel by wagon, if at all.”
“It'll take us most of daylight to reach Watch Hill as it is,” Master Cauthon said, “without trying to cover the distance through the woods. Would be a little faster along the road, but more chance of meeting Whitecloaks, too. More chance somebody might turn us in for the rewards.”
Tam nodded. “But we have friends up this way, too. We figure to stop at Jac al'Seen's farm about midday to breathe the horses and stretch our legs. We will make it to Watch Hill while there's still light enough to see.”
“There will be enough light,” Perrin said absently; there was always light enough for him. He twisted in his saddle to peer back at the farmhouses. Abandoned, but not burned, not ransacked that he could make out. Curtains hung at the windows still. Unbroken windows. Trollocs liked smashing things, and empty houses were an invitation. Weeds stood tall among the barley and oats, but the fields had not been trampled. “Have Trollocs attacked Emond's Field itself?”
“No, they have not, ” Master Cauthon said in a thankful tone. “They'd have no easy time if they did, mind. People learned to keep a sharp eye out Winternight before last. There's a bow beside every door, and spears and the like. Besides, the Whitecloaks patrol down to Emond's Field every few days. Much as I hate to admit it, they do keep the Trollocs back.”
Perrin shook his head. “Do you have any idea how many Trollocs there are?”
“One's too many,” Abell grunted.
“Maybe two hundred,” Tam said. “Maybe more. Probably more.” Master Cauthon looked surprised. “Think on it, Abell. I don't know how many the Whitecloaks have killed, but the Warders claim they and the Aes Sedai have finished off nearly fifty, and two Fades. It hasn't lessened the number of burnings we hear about. I think it has to be more, but you figure it out for yourself. ” The o
