Melaine gripped her shawl under her chin, precisely staring at Rand. If she did not agree with Moraine, at least she mistrusted what he would do. He had hardly slept since leaving Cold Rocks; if they had peered into his dreams, they had seen only nightmares.
"Be careful, Rand al'Thor," Bair said as if she had read his thoughts. "A tired man makes mistakes. You cannot afford mistakes today." She pulled her shawl down around her thin shoulders, and her thin voice took on an almost angry note. "We cannot afford for you to make mistakes. The Aiel cannot afford it."
The coming of more riders to the hilltop had drawn eyes back to them. Among the pavilions several hundred Aiel, men in cadin'sor and long-haired women in skirts and blouses and shawls, made a watchful crowd. Its attention shifted when Kadere's dusty white wagon appeared behind its team of mules off to the right, with the heavy, cream-coated peddler on the driver's seat, and Isendre all in white silk holding a matching parasol. Keille's wagon followed, with Natael handling the reins at her side, and the canvas-topped wagons, and finally the three big water wagons like huge barrels on wheels with their long mule teams. They looked at Rand as the wagons rambled past in a squeal of ungreased axles, Kadere and Isendre, Natael in his gleeman's patch-covered cloak, Keille's great bulk encased in snowy white, a white lace shawl on her ivory combs. Rand patted Jeade'en's arched neck. Men and women began spilling out of the fair below to meet the approaching wagons. The Shaido were waiting. Soon, now.
Egwene moved her gray close to Jeade'en; the dapple stallion tried to nuzzle Mist and got nipped for his trouble. "You've not given me any chance to speak to you since Cold Rocks, Rand." He said nothing; she was Aes Sedai now, and not just because she called herself one. He wondered if she had spied on his dreams, too. Her face looked tight, her dark eyes tired. "Do not keep to yourself, Rand. You do not fight alone. Others do battle for you, too."
Frowning, he tried not to look at her. His first thought was of Emond's Field and Perrin, but he did not see how she could know where Perrin had gone. "What do you mean?" he said finally.
"I fight for you," Moiraine said before Egwene could open her mouth, "as does Egwene." A look flashed between the two women. "People fight for you who do not know it, any more than you know them. You do not realize what it means that you force the form of the Age Lace, do you? The ripples of your actions, the ripples of your very existence, spread across the Pattern to change the weave of life-threads of which you will never be aware. The battle is far from yours alone. Yet you stand in the heart of this web in the Pattern. Should you fail, and fall, all fails and falls. Since I cannot go with you into Alcair Dal, let Lan accompany you. One more pair of eyes to watch your back." The Warder turned slightly in his saddle, frowning at her; with the Shaido veiled for killing, he would not be eager to leave her alone.
Rand did not think he was supposed to have seen that look pass from Moiraine to Egwene. So they had a secret to keep from him. Egwene did have Aes Sedai eyes, dark and unreadable. Aviendha and the Maidens had come back to him. "Let Lan stay with you, Moiraine. Far Dareis Mai carries my honor."
Moiraine's mouth tightened at the corners, but apparently that was exactly the right thing to say so far as the Maidens were concerned. Adelin and the others donned wide grins.
Below, Aiel were crowding around wagon drivers as they began unhitching the mules. Not everyone was paying attention to the Aiel. Keille and Isendre stared at one another from beside their wagons, Natael speaking urgently to one woman, Kadere to the other, until they finally stopped their duel of eyes. The two women had been like that for some time. Had they been men, Rand would have expected it to come to blows long since.
"Be on your guard, Egwene," Rand said. "All of you, be on your guard."
"Even the Shaido will not bother Aes Sedai," Amys told him, "any more than they will bother Bair or Melaine or myself. Some things are beyond even Shaido."
"Just be on your guard!" He had not meant to be that sharp. Even Rhuarc stared at him. They did not understand, and he dared not tell them. Not yet. Who would spring their trap first? He had to risk them as well as himself.
"What about me, Rand?" Mat said suddenly, rolling a gold coin across the fingers of one hand as though unaware of it. "You have any objections to my going with you?"
"Do you want to? I thought you'd stay with the peddlers."
Mat frowned at the wagons below, looked to the Shaido lined before the mountain gap. "I don't think it will be so easy to get out of here if you get yourself killed. Burn me if you don't stick me in the rendering kettle one way or... Dovienya," he muttered – Rand had heard him say that before; Lan said it meant "luck" in the Old Tongue – and flipped the gold coin into the air. When he tried to snatch it back, it bounced off his fingertips and fell to the ground. Somehow, improbably, the coin landed on edge, rolling downhill, bounding across cracks in the baked clay, glittering in the sunlight, all the way down to the wagons, where it finally fell over. "Burn me, Rand," he growled, "I wish you wouldn't do that!"
Isendre picked up the coin and stood fingering it, peering up at the hilltop. The others stared, too; Kadere, and Keille, and Natael.
"You can come," Rand said. "Rhuarc, isn't it about time?"
The clan chief glanced over his shoulder. "Yes. Just about..." Behind him, pipes began playing a slow dancing tune. ". . . now."
Singing rose to the pipes. Aiel boys stopped singing when they reached manhood, except for certain occasions. Only in battle songs and laments for the dead did an Aielman sing once he had taken up the spear. There were surely Maidens' voices in that chanted harmony of parts, but deep male voices swallowed them.
"Wash the spears – while the sun climbs high.
Wash the spears – while the sun falls low."
Half a mile to right and left Taardad appeared, running in time to their song in two wide columns, spears ready, faces veiled, seemingly endless columns rolling toward the mountains.
"Wash the spears – Who fears to die?
Wash the spears – No one I know!"
In the clan camps and in the fair, Aiel stared in amazement; something in the way they held themselves told Rand they were silent. Some of the wagon drivers stood as if stunned; others let their mules run loose and dove under their wagons. And Keille and Isendre, Kadere and Natael, watched Rand.
"Wash the spears – while life holds true.
Wash the spears – until life ends.
Wash the spears..."
"Shall we go?" He did not wait for Rhuarc's nod to heel Jeade'en to a walk down the hill, Adelin and the other Maidens falling in around him. Mat hesitated a moment before booting Pips to follow, but Rhuarc and the Taardad sept chiefs, each with his ten, stepped off with the dapple. Once, halfway to the fair tents, Rand looked back to the hilltop. Moiraine and Egwene sitting their horses with Lan. Aviendha standing with the three Wise Ones. All watching him. He had almost forgotten what it was like not to have people watching him.
As he rode abreast of the fair, a delegation came out, ten or a dozen women in skirts and blouses and much gold and silver and ivory, as many men in the grays and browns of the cadin'sor but unarmed save for a belt knife, and that usually smaller than the heavy-bladed weapon Rhuarc wore. Still, they took a position that forced Rand and the others to halt, and appeared to ignore the veiled Taardad streaming by to east and west.
"Wash the spears – Life is a dream.
Wash the spears – All dreams must end."