The Eye of the World (111 page)

“Three springs ago?” Perrin said slowly. “I remember that spring. Fain came later than usual, but what was strange was that he lingered on. A whole week he remained, idle and gnashing his teeth about laying out money for a room at the Winespring Inn. Fain likes his money.”

“I remember, now,” Mat said. “Everybody was wondering was he sick, or had he fallen for a local woman? Not that any of them would marry a peddler, of course. As well marry one of the Traveling People.” Egwene raised an eyebrow at him, and he shut his mouth.

“After that, Fain was taken to Shayol Ghul again, and his mind was—distilled.” Rand’s stomach turned over at the tone in the Aes Sedai’s voice; it told more of what she meant than the grimace that flashed across her face. “What he had . . . sensed . . . was concentrated and fed back. When he entered the Two Rivers the next year, he was able to choose his targets out more clearly. Indeed, more clearly even than the Dark One had expected. Fain knew for a certainty that the one he sought was one of three in Emond’s Field.”

Perrin grunted, and Mat began cursing in a soft monotone that even Nynaeve’s glare did not stop. Agelmar looked at them curiously. Rand felt only the faintest chill, and wondered at it. Three years the Dark One had been hunting him . . . hunting them. He was sure it should have made his teeth chatter.

Moiraine did not allow Mat to interrupt her. She raised her voice enough
to be heard over him. “When Fain returned to Lugard, Ba’alzamon came to him in a dream. Fain abased himself and performed rites that would strike you deaf to hear the half of them, binding himself even more tightly to the Dark One. What is done in dreams can be more dangerous than what is done awake.” Rand stirred at the sharp, warning look, but she did not pause. “He was promised great rewards, power over kingdoms after Ba’alzamon’s victory, and told that when he returned to Emond’s Field he was to mark the three he had found. A Halfman would be there, waiting for him with Trollocs. We know now how the Trollocs came to the Two Rivers. There must have been an Ogier grove and a Waygate at Manetheren.”

“The most beautiful of all,” Loial said, “except for Tar Valon.” He had been listening as intently as everyone else. “Manetheren is remembered fondly by the Ogier.” Agelmar formed the name silently, his eyebrows raised in wonder. Manetheren.

“Lord Agelmar,” Moiraine said, “I will tell you how to find the Waygate of Mafal Dadaranell. It must be walled up and a guard set, and none allowed near. The Halfmen have not learned all of the Ways yet, but that Waygate is to the south and only hours from Fal Dara.”

The Lord of Fal Dara gave himself a shake, as if he were coming out of a trance. “South? Peace! We don’t need that, the Light shine on us. It shall be done.”

“Did Fain follow us through the Ways?” Perrin asked. “He must have done.”

Moiraine nodded. “Fain would follow you three into the grave, because he must. When the Myrddraal failed at Emond’s Field, it brought Fain with the Trollocs on our trail. The Fade would not let Fain ride with him; although he thought he should have the best horse in the Two Rivers and ride at the head of the band, the Myrddraal forced him to run with the Trollocs, and the Trollocs to carry him when his feet gave out. They talked so that he could understand, arguing about the best way to cook him when his usefulness was done. Fain claims he turned against the Dark One before they reached the Taren. But sometimes his greed for his promised rewards seeps into the open.

“When we had escaped across the Taren the Myrddraal took the Trollocs back to the closest Waygate, in the Mountains of Mist, and sent Fain across alone. He thought he was free then, but before he reached Baerlon another Fade found him, and that one was not so kind. It made him sleep doubled up on himself in a Trolloc kettle at night, to remind him of the
price of failure. That one used him as far as Shadar Logoth. By then Fain was willing to give the Myrddraal his mother if it would free him, but the Dark One never willingly loosens a hold he has gained.

“What I did there, sending an illusion of our tracks and smell off toward the mountains, fooled the Myrddraal, but not Fain. The Halfmen did not believe him; afterward, they dragged him behind them on a leash. Only when we seemed to keep always just ahead, no matter how hard they pressed, did some begin to credit him. Those were the four who returned to Shadar Logoth. Fain claims it was Ba’alzamon himself who drove the Myrddraal.”

Agelmar shook his head contemptuously. “The Dark One? Pah! The man’s lying or mad. If Heartsbane were loose, we’d all of us be dead by now, or worse.”

“Fain spoke the truth as he saw it,” Moiraine said. “He could not lie to me, though he hid much. His words. ‘Ba’alzamon appeared like a flickering candle flame, vanishing and reappearing, never in the same place twice. His eyes seared the Myrddraal, and the fires of his mouth scourged us.’ ”

“Something,”
Lan said, “drove four Fades to where they feared to go—a place they fear almost as much as they fear the wrath of the Dark One.”

Agelmar grunted as if he had been kicked; he looked sick.

“It was evil against evil in the ruins of Shadar Logoth,” Moiraine continued, “foul fighting vile. When Fain spoke of it, his teeth chattered and he whimpered. Many Trollocs were slain, consumed by Mashadar and other things, including the Trolloc that held Fain’s leash. He fled the city as if it were the Pit of Doom, at Shayol Ghul.

“Fain believed he was free at last. He intended to run until Ba’alzamon could never find him again, to the ends of the earth if necessary. Imagine his horror when he discovered that the compulsion to hunt did not lessen. Instead, it grew stronger and sharper with every day that passed. He could not eat, except what he could scavenge while he hunted you—beetles and lizards snatched while he ran, half-rotten refuse dug from midden heaps in the dark of night—nor could he stop until exhaustion collapsed him like an empty sack. And as soon as he had strength to stand again, he was driven on. By the time he reached Caemlyn he could
feel
his quarry even when it was a mile away. Here, in the cells below, he would sometimes look up without realizing what he was doing. He was looking in the direction of this room.”

Rand had a sudden itch between his shoulder blades; it was as if he could feel Fain’s eyes on him then, through the intervening stone. The Aes Sedai noticed his uneasy shrug, but she went on implacably.

“If Fain was half mad by the time he reached Caemlyn, he sank even further when he realized that only two of those he sought were there. He was compelled to find
all
of you, but he could do no other than follow the two who were there, either. He spoke of screaming when the Waygate opened in Caemlyn. The knowledge of how to do it was in his mind; he does not know how it came there; his hands moved of their own accord, burning with the fires of Ba’alzamon when he tried to stop them. The owner of the shop, who came to investigate the noise, Fain murdered. Not because he had to, but out of envy that the man could walk freely out of the cellar while his feet carried him inexorably into the Ways.”

“Then Fain was the one you sensed following us,” Egwene said. Lan nodded. “How did he escape the . . . the Black Wind?” Her voice shook; she stopped to swallow. “It was right behind us at the Waygate.”

“He escaped, and he did not,” Moiraine said. “The Black Wind caught him—and he claimed to understand the voices. Some greeted him as like to them; others feared him. No sooner did the Wind envelop Fain than it fled.”

“The Light preserve us.” Loial’s whisper rumbled like a giant bumblebee.

“Pray that it does,” Moiraine said. “There is much yet hidden about Padan Fain, much I must learn. The evil goes deeper in him, and stronger, than in any man I have yet seen. It maybe that the Dark One, in doing what he did to Fain, impressed some part of himself on the man, perhaps even, unknowing, some part of his intent. When I mentioned the Eye of the World, Fain clamped his jaws shut, but I felt something knowing behind the silence. If only I had the time now. But we cannot wait.”

“If this man knows something,” Agelmar said, “I can get it out of him.” His face held no mercy for Darkfriends; his voice promised no pity for Fain. “If you can learn even a part of what you will face in the Blight, it’s worth an extra day. Battles have been lost for not knowing what the enemy intends.”

Moiraine sighed and shook her head ruefully. “My lord, if we did not need at least one good night’s sleep before facing the Blight, I would ride within the hour, though it meant the risk of meeting a Trolloc raid in the dark. Consider what I did learn from Fain. Three years ago the Dark One had to have Fain brought to Shayol Ghul to touch him, despite the fact that Fain is a Darkfriend dedicated to his marrow. One year ago, the Dark One could command Fain, the Darkfriend, through his dreams. This year, Ba’alzamon walks in the dreams of those who live in the Light, and actually
appears, if with difficulty, at Shadar Logoth. Not in his own body, of course, but even a projection of the Dark One’s mind, even a projection that flickers and cannot hold, is more deathly dangerous to the world than all the Trolloc hordes combined. The seals on Shayol Ghul are weakening desperately, Lord Agelmar. There is no time.”

Agelmar bowed his head in acquiescence, but when he raised it again there was still a stubborn set to his mouth. “Aes Sedai, I can accept that when I lead the lances to Tarwin’s Gap we will be no more than a diversion, or a skirmish on the outskirts of the real battle. Duty takes men where it will as surely as does the Pattern, and neither promises that what we do will have greatness. But our skirmish will be useless, even should we win, if you lose the battle. If you say your party must be small, I say well and good, but I beg you to make every effort to see that you
can
win. Leave these young men here, Aes Sedai. I swear to you that I can find three experienced men with no thought of glory in their heads to replace them, good swordsmen who are almost as handy in the Blight as Lan. Let me ride to the Gap knowing that I have done what I can to help you be victorious.”

“I must take them and no others, Lord Agelmar,” Moiraine said gently. “They are the ones who will fight the battle at the Eye of the World.”

Agelmar’s jaw dropped, and he stared at Rand and Mat and Perrin. Suddenly the Lord of Fal Dara took a step back, his hand groping unconsciously for the sword he never wore inside the fortress. “They aren’t. . . . You are not Red Ajah, Moiraine Sedai, but surely not even you would. . . .” Sudden sweat glistened on his shaven head.

“They are
ta’veren,
” Moiraine said soothingly. “The Pattern weaves itself around them. Already the Dark One has tried to kill each of them more than once. Three
ta’veren
in one place are enough to change the life around them as surely as a whirl pool changes the path of a straw. When the place is the Eye of the World, the Pattern might weave even the Father of Lies into itself, and make him harmless again.”

Agelmar stopped trying to find his sword, but he still looked at Rand and the others doubtfully. “Moiraine Sedai, if you say they are, then they are, but I cannot see it. Farmboys. Are you certain, Aes Sedai?”

“The old blood,” Moiraine said, “split out like a river breaking into a thousand times a thousand streams, but sometimes streams join together to make a river again. The old blood of Manetheren is strong and pure in almost all these young men. Can you doubt the strength of Manetheren’s blood, Lord Agelmar?”

Rand glanced sideways at the Aes Sedai.
Almost all.
He risked a look at
Nynaeve; she had turned back to watch as well as listen, though she still avoided looking at Lan. He caught the Wisdom’s eye. She shook her head; she had not told the Aes Sedai that he was not Two Rivers born.
What does Moiraine know?

“Manetheren,” Agelmar said slowly, nodding. “I would not doubt that blood.” Then, more quickly, “The Wheel brings strange times. Farmboys carry the honor of Manetheren into the Blight, yet if any blood can strike a fell blow at the Dark One, it would be the blood of Manetheren. It shall be done as you wish, Aes Sedai.”

“Then let us go to our rooms,” Moiraine said. “We must leave with the sun, for time grows short. The young men must sleep close to me. Time is too short before the battle to allow the Dark One another strike at them. Too short.”

Rand felt her eyes on him, studying him and his friends, weighing their strength, and he shivered. Too short.