The Wheel of Time

She glanced sideways at the still-open door, then took Rand by the arm.

— Let's walk while we talk — she suggested. He let himself be led, and when they were far enough from the door to not be overheard, she continued. — As I said, the meeting was chaos. Everyone agreed someone had to be sent after you, but the village split into two groups. One wanted to rescue you, though there was a lot of discussion about how to do it, especially since you were here with a… with someone like her.

Rand was relieved she had been careful not to mention Moiraine directly.

— And the others? Did they believe Tam? — he asked.

— Not exactly — Nynaeve replied. — But they thought you shouldn't be left among strangers, especially not with someone like her. Anyway, almost all the men wanted to join the rescue group. Tam, Bran al'Vere, with his mayor's scales hanging around his neck, and Haral Luhhan, until Alsbet made him sit down. Even Cenn Buie volunteered. Light save me from men who think with their muscles instead of their heads. Though I don't know any other kind. — She sighed heavily and gave Rand a reproachful look. — Anyway, I figured it would take another day, maybe two, for them to reach a decision, and somehow… somehow I was certain we couldn't wait that long. So, I called the Women's Circle and told them what needed to be done. I can't say they liked it, but they understood it was necessary. And that's why I'm here; because the men of Emond's Field are stubborn. They're probably still arguing over who to send, even though I made it clear I'd handle it.

Nynaeve's explanation justified her presence, but it didn't reassure Rand. She was still determined to bring them back.

— What did she say to you in there? — Rand asked. Moiraine would have presented every possible argument, but if she had left anything out, he wanted to know.

— More of the same — Nynaeve replied. — And she wanted to know about you boys. To try to understand why you… attracted the kind of attention you did… as she put it. — She paused, watching Rand out of the corner of her eye. — She tried to hide it, but more than anything, she wanted to know if any of you were born outside the Two Rivers.

Rand's face tightened like a drum. He managed a rough laugh.

— And what did you say? — he asked, trying to stay calm.

— The truth — Nynaeve answered, her eyes fixed on his. — That all of you were born and raised in the Two Rivers. But she didn't seem satisfied with that answer.

Rand took a deep breath, trying to mask the relief he felt. He knew the road ahead would be long and fraught with danger, but for now, they were safe. And with Helena now part of his life, he knew he'd have to be even more careful.

— What are you going to do now? — he asked.

She studied him for a moment; he met her gaze firmly.

— Today, I'm going to take a bath — she replied with a slight smile. — As for the rest, we'll have to see, won't we?

After Nynaeve left him, Rand headed to the main hall. He needed to hear people laughing, to forget both what Nynaeve had said and the problems she might cause.

Rand spotted his two friends and squeezed into a space Perrin made for him at the end of the bench where they were sitting. The smells from the kitchen reminded him he was hungry, but even the people with food in front of them paid little attention to their meals. The maids, who should have been serving, stood as if in a trance, clutching their aprons and staring at the gleeman. No one seemed to care. Listening was better than eating, no matter how good the food was.

Two men joined Thom, one with a drum and the other with a hammered dulcimer, but they sat beside the table while he remained standing on it.

The three youths from Emond's Field began clapping with the first note, and they weren't the only ones. It was one of the favorite songs in the Two Rivers, and apparently in Baerlon as well. Here and there, voices even joined in with the words, not so off-key that anyone told them to be quiet.

— I think I'll try a few steps — said Rand, standing up. Perrin jumped up right behind him. Mat was the last to move and, as a result, ended up staying behind to guard the cloaks, along with Rand's sword and Perrin's axe.

— Remember, I want my turn too! — Mat shouted after them.

The dancers formed two long lines facing each other, men on one side and women on the other. First the drum and then the dulcimer began to mark the rhythm, and all the dancers began to bend their knees in time.

Everyone in the hall was laughing, Rand thought as he danced around his next partner, one of the maids, whose apron flapped wildly. The only serious face he saw was that of a man hunched by one of the fireplaces, a scar running across his face from one temple to the opposite jaw, twisting his nose and pulling the corner of his mouth down. When his gaze met Rand's, the man scowled, and Rand looked away, embarrassed. Maybe with that scar, the man couldn't smile.

The scarred man kept staring at Rand with a dark expression. Rand missed a step and felt his face grow hot and red.

He turned to find his next partner and completely forgot about the man. The next woman to dance into his arms was Nynaeve.

He stumbled, nearly tripping over his own feet and almost stepping on hers. She danced with enough grace to make up for his clumsiness, smiling the whole time.

— I thought you were a better dancer — she said, laughing, as they switched partners.

Rand barely had time to recover before switching again and finding himself dancing with Moiraine. If he had felt awkward with Nynaeve, it was nothing compared to how he felt with the Aes Sedai. She glided across the floor with elegance, her dress swirling around her, while he nearly fell twice. She gave him a sympathetic smile, which only made things worse. It was a relief to move on to the next partner, even if it was Egwene.

He was glad to return to the bench when the dance ended.

The music and dancing continued late into the night. The maids finally remembered their duties, and Rand took the opportunity to eat some hot stew with bread. Everyone ate where they were, sitting or standing.

Near midnight, Moiraine retired. Egwene, after glancing anxiously from Moiraine to Nynaeve, hurried after the Aes Sedai.

— There's a guy here who keeps staring at me — said Mat. — A man with a scar on his face. Don't you think he could be one of… one of those friends you warned us about?

— I've seen the man — said Lan. — According to Master Fitch, he's a Whitecloak spy. He's not our concern.

— I'm going to have some milk — said Rand. Maybe it would help him sleep. Perhaps I won't dream tonight.

As he left the kitchen, drinking the milk, a dark, shadowy figure emerged in the hallway, raising pale hands to push back the hood that hid its face. The cloak hung motionless as the figure moved, and the face… The face was human, but white as wax, like a slug under a rock, and without eyes. From the oily black hair to the swollen cheeks, the face was smooth as an eggshell. Rand choked, spitting out milk.