The Gathering Storm полностью

The Aes Sedai smiled at Mat as he trotted up. "Ah, very nice," she said primly. "You've grown prompt since we last parted, Matrim Cau-thon."

"Verin," Mat said, panting slightly from the run. He glanced at Talmanes who held up a sheet of paper, one of those imprinted with Mat's face. "You've discovered that someone's been distributing pictures of me in Trustair?"

She laughed. "You could say that."

He looked at her, meeting those dark brown Aes Sedai eyes. "Blood and bloody ashes," he muttered. "It was you, wasn't it? You're the one who's been looking for me!"

"For some time, I might add," Verin said lightly. "And rather against my will."

Mat closed his eyes. So much for his intricate plan for the raid. Burn it! And it was a good plan, too. "How'd you find I was here?" he asked, opening his eyes.

"A kind merchant came to me in Trustair an hour ago and explained that he'd just had a nice meeting with you, and that you'd paid him handsomely for a sketch of Trustair. I figured that I'd spare the poor town an assault by your . . . associates and just come to you myself."

"An hour ago?" Mat said, frowning. "But Trustair is still half a day's march away!"

"Indeed it is." Verin smiled.

"Burn me," he said. "You've got Traveling, don't you?"

Her smile deepened. "I surmise that you're trying to get to Andor with this army, Master Cauthon."

"That depends," Mat said. "Can you take us there?"

"In a very short time," Verin said. "I could have your men in Caem-lyn by evening."

Light! Twenty days shaved off his march? Maybe he could get Alu-dra's dragons into production soon! He hesitated, eyeing Verin, forcing himself to contain his excitement. There was always a cost when Aes Sedai were involved.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Frankly," she replied, sighing slightly. "What I want, Matrim Cau-thon, is to be cut free from your ta'veren web! Do you know how long you've forced me to wait in these mountains?"

"Forced?"

"Yes," she said. "Come, we have much to discuss." She flicked her reins, moving her horse into camp, and Talmanes and Mandevwin reluctantly stepped aside, letting her in. Mat joined the two of them, watching as she made straight for the cook fires.

"I guess there won't be a raid," Talmanes said. He didn't sound sad.

Mandevwin fingered his eye patch. "Does this mean I can go back to my poor aged aunt?"

"You have no poor aged aunt," Mat growled. "Come on, let's hear what the woman has to say."

"Fine," Mandevwin said. "But next time, I get to be the Warder, all right, Mat?"

Mat just sighed, hurrying after Verin.

The cool sea breeze washed across Rand the moment he rode through the gateway. That soft, featherlike wind carried with it the scents of a thousand cook fires scattered through the city of Falme, heating morning stews.

Rand reined in Tai'daishar, unprepared for the memories those scents would carry with them. Memories of a time when he'd still been uncertain about his role in the world. Memories of a time when Mat had constantly ribbed him for wearing fine coats, despite the fact that Rand tried to avoid them. Memories of a time when he had been ashamed of the banners that now flapped behind him. He had once insisted on keeping them hidden, as if in doing so he could hide from his own fate.

The procession waited for him, buckles creaking, horses snorting. Rand had visited Falme once, briefly. Back in those days, he hadn't been able to stay anywhere for long. He'd spent those months either chasing or being chased. Fain had led him to Falme, bearing the Horn of Valere and the ruby dagger to which Mat had been bound. The colors flashed again, as he thought of Mat, but Rand ignored them. For these few moments, he wasn't in the present.

Falme marked a turning point in Rand's life as profound as the one that had later occurred in the barren lands of the Aiel, when he had proven himself to be the Car'a'cam. After Falme, there had been no more hiding, no more fighting what he was. This was the place where he'd first acknowledged himself as a killer, the place where he'd first realized what a danger he was to those around him. He'd tried to leave them all behind. They'd come after him.

At Falme, the shepherd boy had burned, his ashes scattered and blown away by those ocean winds. From those ashes, the Dragon Reborn had risen.

Rand kneed Tai'daishar forward, and the procession began again. He had ordered the gateway opened a short ride from the city, hopefully out of eyesight of damane. Of course he had Asha'man creating it—thereby hiding the weaves from women—but he didn't want to give them any clues about Traveling. The Seanchan inability to Travel was one of his greatest advantages.