Rand looked at Aviendha. “Do you also counsel delay?”
“I counsel that you listen to Moiraine Sedai. Only fools ignore Aes Sedai.”
“What could be at the docks more important than Rahvin?” he growled, then shook his head. There was a saying in the Two Rivers, not that anybody said it where women could hear. “The Creator made women to please the eye and trouble the mind.” Aes Sedai were certainly no different in one respect. “One hour.”
The sun was not yet high enough to lift the city wall's long shadow from the stone quay where Kadere's wagons were lined up, but he still mopped his face with a large handkerchief. It was only partly the heat that made him sweat. Great gray curtain walls stretching into the river at either end of the row of docks made the quay seem a dim box, with him caught in it. There were nothing but broad, roundbowed grain barges docked here, and the same anchored in the river waiting their turn to unload. He had considered slipping onto one when it cast off, but it meant abandoning most of what he still possessed. Yet had he thought the slow passage downriver would take him anywhere except to his death, he would have. Lanfear had not returned to his dreams, but he had the burns on his chest to remind him of her commands. Just the thought of disobeying one of the Chosen made him shiver, even with sweat rolling down his face.
If only he knew who to trust; to the extent it was possible to trust any of his fellow Darkfriends. The last of his drivers who had sworn the oaths had vanished two days ago, very likely on one of the grain barges. He still did not know which Aiel woman had slipped that note under his wagon door —“You are not alone among strangers. A way has been chosen” — though he had several possibilities in mind. The docks held almost as many Aiel as they did workmen, come to stare at the river; he had seen a few of those faces more often than seemed reasonable, and some had looked at him consideringly. A few Cairhienin had as well, and a Tairen lord. That meant nothing by itself, of course, but if he could find a few men to work with...
A mounted party appeared in one of the gateways, Moiraine and Rand al'Thor leading the way with the Aes Sedai's Warder as they threaded though the carts hauling grainsacks away. A wave of cheers rode with them.
“All glory to the Lord Dragon!” and “Hail the Lord Dragon!” and now and again “Glory to Lord Matrim! Glory to the Red Hand!”
For once the Aes Sedai turned down toward the tail end of the line of wagons without so much as a glance at Kadere. He was just as glad. Even if she had not been Aes Sedai, even if she had not looked at him as if she knew every black corner of his mind, he would as soon not have looked too closely at some of the things she had filled his wagons with. Yesterday evening she had made him strip the canvas off that oddly twisted redstone doorframe in the wagon just behind his. She seemed to take a perverse delight in making him help her himself with whatever she wanted to study. He would have covered the thing up again if he could bear to go near it, or could make any of his drivers do so. None with him now had seen Herid fall half through it in Rhuidean and half disappear — Herid had been the first to run away once they cleared the Jangai; the man had not been entirely right in the head after the Warder hauled him back — but they could look at it, see the way the corners did not meet properly, how you could not follow it around with your eyes without blinking and growing dizzy.
Kadere ignored the first three riders as much as the Aes Sedai had ignored him, and Mat Cauthon almost as much. The man was wearing his hat; he had never been able to find a replacement. The Aiel wench, Aviendha, rode up behind the young Aes Sedai's saddle, both with their skirts pushed up to show their legs. If he needed any confirmation that the Aiel woman was bedding al'Thor, he only had to see the way she looked at him; a woman who had taken a man to her bed always looked at him with that light of ownership in her eyes after. More importantly, Natael was with them. This was the first time Kadere had been this close to him since crossing the Spine of the World. Natael, who stood high in the Darkfriends. If he could get past the Maidens to reach Natael...
Suddenly Kadere blinked. Where were the Maidens? Al'Thor always had an escort of spearwielding women. Frowning, he realized he could not see a single Maiden among the Aiel on the quay or the docks.
“Aren't you going to look at an old friend, Hadnan?”
That melodious voice jerked Kadere around, gaping at a hatchetnosed face, dark eyes almost hidden by rolls of fat. “Keille?” It was impossible. No one survived alone in the Waste except Aiel. She had to be dead. But there she stood, white silk straining over her bulk, ivory combs standing tall in her dark curls.
A faint smile on her lips, she turned with a grace that still surprised him in a woman so large and lightly, climbed the steps into his wagon.
For a moment he hesitated, then hurried after her. He would as soon Keille Shaogi really had died in the Waste — the woman was bossy and obnoxious; she need not think she was getting a penny of the little he had managed to salvage — but she stood as high as Jasin Natael. Perhaps she would answer a few questions. At the least, he would have someone to work with. At the worst, someone to put blame on. Power went with standing high, but so did blame for the failures of those beneath you. More than once he had fed his superiors to those still higher up in order to cover himself.
Carefully closing the door, he turned — and would have screamed if his throat had not clenched too tight for sound.
The woman who stood there wore white silk, but she was not fat. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, eyes like dark, bottomless mountain pools, woven silver belting her narrow waist, silver crescents in her shimmering black hair. Kadere knew that face from his dreams.
His knees thudding to the floor shook breath loose. “Great Mistress,” he said hoarsely, “how may I serve?”
Lanfear might have been looking at an insect, one she might crush beneath her slipper or might not. “By showing your obedience to my commands. I have been too busy to watch Rand al'Thor myself. Tell me what he has done, aside from conquering Cairhien, what he plans to do.”
“It is difficult, Great Mistress. One such as myself cannot come close to such as he.” An insect, those cool eyes said, allowed to live so long as it was useful. Kadere racked his brain for everything he had seen or heard or imagined. “He is sending Aiel south in huge numbers, Great Mistress, though I do not know why. The Tairens and Cairhienin do not seem to notice, but I don't think they can tell one Aiel from another.” Neither could he. He would not dare lie to her, but if she thought he had more use than he did... He has founded a school of some sort, in a city palace that belonged to a House with no survivors... " At first there was no way to tell whether she liked what she was hearing, but as he went on,