So many things to balance. So many problems. He couldn't fix them all. He
"I don't approve of this, Rand," Nynaeve said, standing beside the door, arms folded. "And we're not done talking about Lan, either."
Rand waved a dismissive hand.
"He's
The colors swirled before his eyes, revealing an image of Perrin standing by a tent with Galad. Why was Perrin with
Rand frowned to himself. He could feel a pull from Perrin and Mat, both distant. It was their
"Rand?" Nynaeve asked. "Aren't you going to respond?"
"About Perrin and Mat?" Rand asked. "They live."
"How do you know?"
"I simply do." He sighed, shaking his head. "And they had better remain alive. I'll have need of them both before this is over."
"Rand!" she said. "They're your friends!"
"They're threads in the Pattern, Nynaeve," he said, rising. "I barely know them anymore, and I suspect they would say the same thing of me."
"Don't you care about them?"
"Care?" Rand walked down the steps of the raised platform that held his throne. "What I care about is the Last Battle. What I care about is making peace with the Light-cursed Seanchan so that I can stop bothering with their squabble and get to the real battle. Beside those cares, a pair of boys from my little village are meaningless."
He looked at her, challenging. Ramshalan and the other attendants backed away quietly, not wanting to be caught between his gaze and Nynaeve.
She was silent, although her face took on a profound sadness. "Oh, Rand," she finally said. "You can't go on like this. This hardness within you, it will break you."
"I do what I must," he said, anger creeping into him. Would he never hear the end of complaints about his choices?
"This isn't what you must do, Rand," she said. "You're going to destroy yourself. You'll—"
Rand's anger surged. He spun, pointing at her. "Would you end up exiled like Cadsuane, Nynaeve?" he bellowed. "I will
She recoiled, and Rand gritted his teeth, forcing the anger back down. His lowered his hand, but realized it had begun to reach reflex-ively for the access key in the pocket at his side. Nynaeve's eyes fixed on it, opening wide, and he slowly forced his hand away from the statuette.
The explosion surprised him. He had thought his temper controlled. He forced it down, and had a surprisingly difficult time of it. He turned and stalked from the room, throwing open the door, his Maidens following him. "I will have no more audiences today," he told the attendants who tried to follow him. "Go and do as I have told you! I need the other members of the merchant council. Go!"
They scattered. Only the Aiel remained, guarding him as he made his way to the rooms he had claimed in the mansion.
A short time longer. He only had to keep things balanced a short time longer. Then it could end. And he found that he was beginning to look forward to that end as much as Lews Therin did.
/
Nynaeve stood on the broad wall around Bandar Eban, looking down over the darkened city. The wall was on the inland side of the city, but Bandar Eban was built on a slope, so she could see out over it, past the city, toward the ocean beyond. The night fog rolled in across the waters, hanging above a crisp black mirror sea. It seemed like a reflection of the clouds high above. Those clouds glowed with a phantom pearl light, cast by a moon she could not see.
The fog did not reach the city; it rarely did. It hung over the ocean, churning. Like the ghost of a forest fire, stopped by some unseen barrier.
