Knife of Dreams

Arabah’s bow included Perrin and Berelain. and he frowned slightly at Masema as though wondering what such a ragged fellow was doing in their company. Masema sneered, and the Seanchan’s free hand drifted toward his sword hilt before he stopped it. They seemed touchy folk, Seanchan did. But Arabah did not waste time. “Ba

Perrin grimaced. There would be at least three or four thousand algal’d’shwai with each of those bands. A lot of spears to have at his back for certain sure. Neald yawned. “How are you feeling, Neald?”

“Oh, I’m ready to do whatever needs doing, I am, my Lord,” the man said with just a hint of his usual jauntiness.

Perrin shook his head. The Asha’man could not be asked to make one gateway more than necessary. He prayed that they would not fall one short. “By noon, we’ll be done here. Tell the Ba

Out in the fog, wolves howled, an eerie cry that rose all around Maiden. It was truly begun, now.

“You’re doing wonderfully, Maighdin,” Faile croaked. She felt lightheaded, and her throat was dry from encouraging the woman. Everyone’s throat was dry. By the slant of the light coming through the gaps overhead, it was near midmorning, and they had been talking without cease for most of that. They had tried tapping the unbroken barrels, but the wine inside was too rancid even for wetting lips. Now they were taking turns with the encouragement. She was sitting alongside her sun-haired maid while the others rested against the back wall, as far from that leaning jumble of boards and timbers as they could get. “You’re going to save us, Maighdin.”

Above them, the red scarf was just visible through that narrow gap in the tangle. It had hung limply for some time, now, except when the breeze caught it. Maighdin stared at it fixedly. Her dirty face glistened with sweat, and she breathed as if she had been ru

“That was beautiful,” Faile said hoarsely. The other woman was getting tired. More time was passing between each success, and the successes were lasting a shorter time. “It was-”

Abruptly a face appeared beside the scarf, one hand gripping the length of red. For a moment, she thought she must be imagining it. Aravine’s face framed by her white cowl.

“I see her!” the woman said excitedly. “I see the Lady Faile and Maighdin! They’re alive!” Voices raised a cheer, quickly stilled.

Maighdin swayed as if she might fall over, but a beautiful smile wreathed her face. Faile heard weeping behind her, and wanted to weep with joy herself. Friends had found them, not Shaido. They might escape yet.

Pushing herself to her feet, she moved closer to the leaning pile of charred rubble. She tried to work moisture into her mouth, but it was thick. “We’re all alive,” she managed in husky voice. “How in the Light did you find us?”

“It was Theril, my Lady,” Aravine replied. “The scamp followed you despite your orders, and the Light bless him for it. He saw Galina leave, and the building fall in, and he thought you were dead. He sat down and cried.” A voice protested in rough Amadician accents, and Aravine turned her head for a moment. “I know someone who’s been crying when I see him. boy. You just be thankful you stopped to cry. When he saw the scarf move, my Lady, he came ru

“You tell him there’s no shame in tears,” Faile said. “Tell him I’ve seen my husband cry when tears were called for.”

“My Lady,” Aravine said hesitantly, “he said Galina pulled on a timber when she came out. It was set like a lever, he said. He said she made the building collapse.”

“Why would she do that?” Alliandre demanded. She had helped Maighdin to her feet and half supported her to reach Faile’s side. Lacile and Arrela joined them, alternating between tears and laughter. Alliandre’s face was a thunderhead.

Faile grimaced. How often in the last few hours had she wished she had that slap back? Galina had promised. Could the woman be Black Ajah? “That doesn’t matter now. One way or another, I’ll see her repaid.” How was another matter. Galina was Aes Sedai. after all. “Aravine, how many people did you bring? Can you-?”

Large hands took Aravine by the shoulders and moved her aside. “Enough talk.” Rolan’s face appeared in the gap, shoufa around his neck and veil hanging onto his chest. Rolan! “We ca

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

The man chuckled. He chuckled! “You still wear white, woman. Do as you are told, or when I have you out of there, I will smack your bottom soundly. And then maybe we will soothe your tears with a kissing game.”

She showed him her teeth, hoping he did not take it for a grin. But he was right about them needing to move away, so she led her companions across the board-strewn stone floor to the far end of the basement where they crouched against the wall. She could hear voices muttering outside, likely discussing exactly how to go about clearing a path without making the rest of the building collapse on her head.

“All this for nothing,” Alliandre said bitterly. “How many Shaido do you suppose are up there?’’

Wood scraped loudly, and with a groan, the leaning pile of rubble leaned inward a little more. The voices began again.

“I haven’t any idea,” Faile told her. “But they must all be Mera’dhi, not Shaido.” The Shaido did not mingle with the Brotherless. “There might be some hope in that.” Surely Rolan would let her go once he learned about Dairaine. Of course, he would. And if he remained stubborn… In that case, she would do whatever was necessary to convince him. Perrin would never have to find out.

Wood scraped on wood again, and once more the heap of burned timbers and boards tilted inward a little further.

The fog hid the sun, but Perrin estimated it must be near midmorn-ing. Grady would be coming soon. He should have been there by now. If the man had grown too tired to make another gateway… No. Grady would come. Soon. But his shoulders were as tight as if he had been working a forge for a full day and longer.

“I tell you, I don’t like this one bit,” Galle

“Fool.’’ Arganda growled, glancing off to his right as if he could see Masema and his men through the curling grayness. Unlike the Mayener. he had put on his silvered helmet with its three fat white plumes. It and his breastplate, worked in gold and silver, glistened with condensation. Fog or no fog, his armor seemed almost to glow. “You think we can kill two hundred men without making a sound? Shouts will be heard the other side of this ridge. You have your ruler where you can surround her with nine hundred men and maybe get her away. Alliandre is still in that bloody town, and surrounded by Shaido.”