How would Nynaeve's task—discovering where Perrin was—help Lan? During the past week, Nynaeve had pressed Cadsuane for more information, but had failed. "Perform this task well, child," Cadsuane had said, "and perhaps we shall give you more responsibility in the future. You've proven yourself willful at times, and we can't have that."
Nynaeve sighed. Find out where Perrin was. How was she supposed to do that? The Two Rivers folk had been of little use. Many of their men were traveling with Perrin, but they hadn't been seen for some time. They were in the south somewhere, Altara or Ghealdan, likely. But that left a large area to search.
She should have known that the Two Rivers would not provide an easy answer. Cadsuane had obviously already tried reaching Perrin herself, and must have failed. That's why she'd given the task to Nynaeve. Had Rand sent Perrin on some secret mission?
"Rand?" she said.
He was muttering roughly to himself.
She shivered. "Rand," she said more sharply.
He stopped muttering, then glanced at her. She thought she could see the anger hidden there, deep within him, a flash of annoyance at her interruption. Then it was gone, replaced by the frighteningly cool control. "Yes?" he asked.
"Do you . . . know where Perrin is?"
"He has tasks set before him and performs them," Rand said, turning away. "Why do you wish to know?"
Best not to mention Cadsuane. "I'm still worried about him. And about Mat."
"Ah," Rand said. "You are particularly unaccustomed to lying, aren't you, Nynaeve?"
She felt her face flush in embarrassment. When had he learned to read people so well! "I
There. Let Rand think about
"Unassuming," Rand said musingly. "Yes, I suppose he is still that. But peaceful? Perrin is no longer too . . . peaceful."
So he had been in touch with Perrin recently. Light! How had Cadsuane known, and how had Nynaeve missed those communications? "Rand, if you have Perrin working on something for you, then why have you kept it secret? I deserve to—"
"I haven't been meeting with him, Nynaeve," Rand said. "Calm yourself. There are simply things that I know. We are connected, Perrin, myself and Mat."
"How? What do you—"
"That is all I will say on it, Nynaeve," Rand interrupted, slicing into her sentence with soft words.
Nynaeve settled back, gritting her teeth again. The other Aes Sedai spoke of being in control of their emotions, but obviously they didn't have to deal with Rand al'Thor. Nynaeve could be calm too, if she weren't expected to manage the most bullheaded fool of a man who had ever put on a pair of boots.
They rode in silence for a time, the overcast sky hanging above them like a distant field of graymoss peat. The meeting place with the Border-landers was a nearby crossroads. They could have Traveled directly there, but the Maidens had prevailed upon Rand to arrive a short distance out and approach more carefully. Traveling was extremely convenient, but it also could be dangerous. If your enemies knew where you would appear, you could open a gateway and find yourself ambushed by a line of archers. Even sending scouts through the gateway first wasn't as safe as Traveling to a spot where nobody was expecting you.
The Aiel learned, and adapted, quickly. Surprising, really. The Waste was terribly unvaried; every part looked just about the same. Of course, she
This particular crossroads hadn't been important in years. If Verin or one of the other Brown sisters had been there, they'd likely have been able to explain exactly why. All Nynaeve knew was that the kingdom which had once held this land had fallen long ago, and the only remnant was the independent city of Far Madding. The Wheel of Time turned. The most grand of kingdoms fell, rusted and eventually changed into lazy fields, ruled only by farmers determined to grow a particularly good crop of barley. It had happened to Manetheren, and it had happened here. Great highways that had once transported legions now dwindled to obscure country roads in need of maintenance.
As they continued, Nynaeve let Moonlight fall back from Rand's position. That placed her riding near Narishma, with his dark, braided hair, bells tinkling on the ends. He wore black, like most Asha'man, and the Sword and Dragon twinkled on his collar. He'd changed in the months since being bonded as a Warder. She could no longer look at him and see a boy. This was a man, with the grace of a soldier, the careful eyes of a Warder. A man who had seen death and fought Forsaken.
"You're a Borderlander, Narishma," Nynaeve said. "Do you have any idea why the others left their posts?"
