And the Aiel in the cage. What Min saw was always important. But how? What was he supposed to do? I could have stopped those children throwing rocks. I should have. It was no use telling himself the adults would certainly have told him to go on about his business, that he was a stranger in Remen and the Aiel was none of his concern. I should have tried.

No answers came to him, so he went back to the beginning and patiently worked through it once more, then again, and again. Still he found nothing except regret for what he had not done.

It came to him after a time that night had finally fallen. The room was dark except for a little moonlight through the lone window. He thought about the tallow candle and the tinderbox he had seen on the mantel over the narrow fireplace, but there was more than enough light for his eyes. I have to do something, don't I?

He buckled on his axe, then paused. He had done it without thinking; wearing the thing had become as natural as breathing. He did not like that. But he left the belt around his waist, and went out.

Light from the stairs made the hallway seem almost bright after his room. Talk and laughter drifted up from the common room, and cooking smells from the kitchen. He strode toward the front of the inn, to Moiraine's room, knocked once, and went in. And stopped, his face burning.

Moiraine pulled the pale blue robe that hung from her shoulders around herself. “You wish something?” she asked coolly. She had a silverbacked hairbrush in one hand, and her dark hair, spilling down her neck in dark waves, glistened as if she had been brushing it. Her room was far finer than his, with polished wooden paneling on the walls and silverchased lamps and a warm fire on the wide brick hearth. The air smelled of rosescented soap.

“I... I thought Lan was here,” he managed to get out. “You two always have your heads together, and I thought he'd... I thought...”

“What do you want, Perrin?”

He took a deep breath. “Is this Rand's doing? I know Lan followed him here, and it all seems odd — the Hunters, and Aiel — but did he do it?”

“I do not think so. I will know more when Lan tells me what he discovers tonight. With luck, what he finds will help with the choice I must make.”

“A choice?”

“Rand could have crossed the river and be on his way to Tear crosscountry. Or he could have taken ship downriver to Illian, meaning to board another there for Tear. The journey is leagues longer that way, but days faster.”

“I don't think we are going to catch him, Moiraine. I don't know how he's doing it, but even afoot he is staying ahead of us. If Lan is right, he is still half a day ahead.”

“I could almost suspect he had learned to Travel,” Moiraine said with a small frown, “except that if he had, he would have gone straight to Tear. No, he has the blood of long walkers and strong runners in him. But we may take the river anyway. If I cannot catch him, I will be in Tear close behind him. Or waiting for him.”

Perrin shifted his feet uneasily; there was cold promise in her voice. “You told me once that you could sense a Darkfriend, one who was far gone into the Shadow, at least. Lan, too. Have you sensed anything like that here?”

She gave a loud sniff and turned back to a tall standing mirror with finely made silverwork set in the legs. Holding her robe closed with one hand, she ran the brush through her hair with the other. “Very few humans are so far gone as that, Perrin, even among the worst Darkfriends.” The brush halted in midstroke. “Why do you ask?”

“There was a girl down in the common room staring at me. Not at you and Loial, like everybody else. At me.”

The brush resumed motion, and a smile briefly touched Moiraine's lips. “You sometimes forget, Perrin, that you are a goodlooking young man. Some girls admire a pair of shoulders.” He grunted and shuffled his feet. “Was there something else, Perrin?”

“Uh... no.” She could not help with Min's viewing, not beyond telling him what he already knew, that it was important. And he did not want to tell her what Min had seen. Or that Min had seen anything, for that matter.

Back out in the hall with the door closed, he leaned against the wall for a moment. Light, just walking in on her like that, and her... She was a pretty woman. And likely old enough to be my mother, or more. He thought Mat would probably have asked her down to the common room to dance. No, he wouldn't. Even Mat isn't fool enough to try charming an Aes Sedai. Moiraine did dance. He had danced with her once himself. And nearly fallen over his own feet with every other step. Stop thinking about her like a village girl just because you saw... She's bloody Aes Sedai! You have that Aiel to worry about. He gave himself a shake and went downstairs.

The common room was full as it could be, with every chair taken, and stools and benches brought in, and those who had nowhere to sit standing along the walls. He did not see the blackhaired girl, and no one else looked at him twice as he hurriedly crossed the room.

Orban occupied a table to himself, his bandaged leg propped up on a chair with a cushion, with a soft slipper on that foot, a silver goblet in his hand, the serving women keeping it filled with wine. “Aye,” he was saying to the whole room, “we knew the Aiel for fierce fighters, Gann and I, but there was no time to hesitate. I drew my sword, and dug my heels into Lion's ribs...”

Perrin gave a start before he realized the man meant his horse was named Lion. Wouldn't put it past him to say he was riding a lion. He felt a little ashamed; just because he did not like the man was no reason to suppose the Hunter would take his boasting that far. He hurried on outside without looking back.

The street in front of the inn was as crowded as inside, with people who could not find a place in the common room peering in through the windows, and twice as many huddling around the doors to listen to Orban's tale. No one glanced at Perrin twice, though his passage brought muttered complaints from those jostled a little further from the door.

Everyone who was out in the night must have been at the inn, for he saw no one as he walked to the square. Sometimes the shadow of a person moved across a lighted window, but that was all. He had the feel of being watched, though, and looked around uneasily. Nothing but nightcloaked streets dotted with glowing windows. Around the square, most of the windows were dark except a few on upper floors.

The gibbet stood as he remembered, the man — the Aiel — still in the cage, hanging higher than he could reach. The Aiel seemed to be awake — at least his head was up — but he never looked down at Perrin. The stones the children had been throwing were s