The street was full of sickly, dirty people, crowded alongside walls, huddled in blankets. There wasn’t room to move on the boardwalks; Min and Rand had to step down into the mud to continue. People coughed and moaned, and she realized the stenches weren’t confined to the alley. The entire city seemed to stink. Once, banners had hung from many of these buildings, but they’d been pulled down and ripped apart for blankets or fuel.
Most of the buildings had broken windows, with refugees clogging the doorways and floors inside. As Min and Rand walked, the people around them turned to watch. Some looked delirious. Others looked hungry. And dangerous. Many were Domani, but there seemed to be as many paler-skinned people. Refugees from Almoth Plain or Saldaea, perhaps. Min loosened a knife in her sleeve as they passed a group of young toughs lounging at an alleyway’s mouth. Perhaps Naeff had been right. This didn’t feel safe.
“I walked through Ebou Dar like this,” Rand said softly. Suddenly, she was aware of his pain. A crushing guilt, more hurtful than the wounds in his side. “That was part of what made me change. The people in Ebou Dar were happy and well-fed. They didn’t look like these. The Seanchan rule better than I.”
“Rand, you aren’t responsible for this,” Min said. “You weren’t here to…”
His pain increased, and she realized she’d said the wrong thing. “Yes,” he replied softly, “I wasn’t here. I abandoned this city when I saw that I could not use it as the tool I wished it to be. I forgot, Min. I forgot what this was all about. Tam was so very right. A man must know why he is fighting.”
Rand had sent his father—along with one of the Asha’man—to the Two Rivers to prepare and gather them for the Last Battle.
Rand stumbled as he walked, suddenly looking very tired. He sat down on a nearby box. A copper-skinned urchin watched him keenly from a nearby doorway. Across the street, a roadway branched off the main thoroughfare. That one wasn’t clogged with people; brutish-looking men with cudgels stood at its mouth.
“They break into gangs,” Rand said softly, shoulders bowing. “The rich hire the strong to protect them, to fight away those who come seeking their wealth. But it’s not a wealth of gold or jewelry. It’s about food, now.”
“Rand,” she said, going to one knee beside him. “You can’t—”
“I know I must go on,” Rand said, “but it hurts to know the things that I’ve done, Min. By turning myself to steel, I pushed out all of these emotions. By allowing myself to care again, to laugh again, I’ve had to open myself to my failures, too.”
“Rand, I see sunlight around you.”
He looked up at her, then glanced at the sky.
“Not that sunlight,” Min whispered. “A viewing. I see dark clouds, pushed away by the sunlight’s warmth. I see you, a brilliant white sword held in your hand, wielded against one of black, held by a faceless darkness. I see trees, growing green again, bearing fruit. I see a field, the crops healthy and full.” She hesitated. “I see the Two Rivers, Rand. I see an inn there with the mark of the Dragon’s Fang inlaid on its door. No longer a symbol of darkness or hate. A sign of victory and hope.”
He looked to her.
Min caught something from the corner of her eye. She turned toward the people sitting on the street, and gaped. Every single one had an image above them. It was remarkable to see so many viewings, all at once, flaring to light above the heads of the sickly, the weak, and the abandoned.
“I see a silver axe above that man’s head,” she said, pointing to a bearded beggar, who lay against a wall, his chin down against his chest. “He will be a leader in the Last Battle. That woman there—the one sulking in the shadows—she will be trained by the White Tower and become Aes Sedai. I can see the Flame of Tar Valon beside her, and I know what it means. That man over there who looks like a simple street tough? He will save her life. I know he doesn’t look like it, but he will fight. All of them will. I can see it!”
She looked at Rand and took his hand. “You will be strong, Rand. You’ll do this. You’ll lead them. I know it.”
“You saw that?” he asked. “In a viewing?”
She shook her head. “I don’t need to. I believe in you.”
“I almost killed you,” he whispered. “When you look at me, you see a murderer. You feel my hand at your throat.”
“What? Of course I don’t! Rand, meet my eyes. You can sense me through the bond. Do you feel a sliver of hesitation or fear from me?”
He searched her eyes with his own, so deep. She didn’t back down. She could meet the eyes of this sheepherder.
He sat up straighter. “Oh, Min. What would I do without you?”
She snorted. “You have kings and Aiel chiefs following you. Aes Sedai, Asha’man, and ta’veren. I’m certain you’d get along.”
“No,” Rand said. “You’re more vital than them all. You remind me who I am. Besides, you think more clearly than most of those who call themselves my counselors. You could be a queen, if you wished it.”
“All I wish for is you, stupid looby.”
“Thank you.” He hesitated. “Though I could manage without quite so much name calling.”
“Life’s tough, isn’t it?”
He smiled. Then he stood, taking a deep breath. His guilt was still there, but he managed it now, as he managed the pain. Nearby, the refugees perked up. Rand turned toward the bearded wretch Min had indicated earlier; the man sat with his feet in the mud.
“You,” the man said to Rand, “you’re him. The Dragon Reborn.”
“Yes,” Rand said. “You were a soldier?”
“I…” The man’s eyes grew distant. “Another life. I was in the King’s Guard, before he was taken, before we were seized by Lady Chadmar, then disbanded.” The fatigue seemed to bleed from his eyes as he thought of earlier days.
“Excellent,” Rand said. “We need to restore this city, Captain.”
“Captain?” the man said. “But I…” He cocked his head. Then he stood up and brushed himself off. He suddenly had a faintly military air about him, despite the ripped clothing and the snarled beard. “Well, I suppose you’re right. But I don’t think it’ll be easy. The pe
