Aviendha laughed as if at a great joke. “I have heard it said that a man caught between his wife and a Wise One often wishes for a dozen old enemies to fight instead. A man caught between a wife and three Wise Ones, and the wife a Wise One herself, must consider trying to slay Sightblinder.”
“The thought came to me.” He frowned down at something on the floor; three Great Serpent rings, Egwene saw, and a much heavier golden ring made for a man's large finger. “It still does. All things must change, but I would not be a part of that change if I could set myself aside from it. Three Aes Sedai, traveling to Tear.” The other Aiel glanced at one another as if they did not want Egwene and her companions to notice.
“You spoke of dreams,” Egwene said. “Do your Wise Ones know what their dreams mean?”
“Some do. If you would know more than that, you must speak to them. Perhaps they will tell an Aes Sedai. They do not tell men, except what the dreams say we must do.” He sounded tired, suddenly. “And that is usually what we would avoid, if we could.”
He stooped to pick up the man's ring. On it, a crane flew above a lance and crown; Egwene knew it now. She had seen it often before, dangling about Nynaeve's neck on a leather cord. Nynaeve stepped on the other rings to snatch it out of his hand; her face was flushed, with anger and too many other emotions for Egwene to read. Rhuarc made no move to take it back, but went on in the same weary tone.
“And one of them carries a ring I have heard of as a boy. The ring of Malkieri kings. They rode with the Shienarans against the Aiel in my father's time. They were good in the dance of the spears. But Malkier fell to the Blight. It is said only a child king survived, and he courts the death that took his land as other men court beautiful women. Truly, this is a strange thing, Aes Sedai. Of all the strange sights I thought I might see when Melaine harried me out of my own hold and over the Dragonwall, none has been so strange as this. The path you set me is one I never thought my feet would follow.”
“I set no paths for you,” Nynaeve said sharply. “All I want is to continue my journey. These men had horses. We will take three of them and be on our way.”
“In the night, Aes Sedai?” Rhuarc said. “Is your journey so urgent that you would travel these dangerous lands in the dark?”
Nynaeve struggled visibly before saying, “No.” In a firmer tone she added, “But I mean to leave with the sunrise.”
The Aiel carried the dead outside the palisade, but neither Egwene nor her companions wanted to use the filthy bed Adden had slept in. They picked up their rings and slept under the sky in their cloaks and the blankets the Aiel gave them.
When dawn pearled the sky to the east, the Aiel produced a breakfast of tough, dried meat — Egwene hesitated over that until Aviendha told her it was goat — flatbread that was almost as difficult to chew as the stringy meat, and a blueveined white cheese that had a tart taste and was hard enough to make Elayne murmur that the Aiel must practice by chewing rocks. But the DaughterHeir ate as much as Egwene and Nynaeve together. The Aiel turned the horses loose — they did not ride unless they had to, Aviendha explained, sounding as if she herself would as soon run on blistered feet — after choosing out the three best for Egwene and the others. They were all tall and nearly as big as warhorses, with proud necks and fierce eyes. A black stallion for Nynaeve, a roan mare for Elayne, and a gray mare for Egwene.
She chose to call the gray Mist, in the hope that a gentle name might soothe her, and indeed, Mist did seem to step lightly as they rode south, just as the sun lifted a red rim above the horizon.
The Aiel accompanied them afoot, all those who had survived the fight. Three more had died aside from the two the Myrddraal killed. They were nineteen, altogether, now. They loped along easily alongside the horses. At first, Egwene tried holding Mist to a slow walk, but the Aiel thought this very funny.
“I will race you ten miles,” Aviendha said, “and we shall see who wins, your horse or I.”
“I will race you twenty!” Rhuarc called, laughing.
Egwene thought they might actually be serious, and when she and the others let their horses walk at a quicker pace, the Aiel certainly showed no sign of falling back.
When the thatched rooftops of Jurene came in sight, Rhuarc said, “Fare you well, Aes Sedai. May you always find water and shade. Perhaps we will meet again before the change comes.” He sounded grim. As the Aiel curved away to the south, Aviendha and Chiad and Bain each raised a hand in farewell. They did not seem to be slowing down now that they no longer ran with the horses; if anything, they ran a little faster. Egwene had a suspicion they meant to maintain that pace until they reached wherever it was they were going.
“What did he mean by that?” she asked.“ 'Perhaps we will meet again before the change'?” Elayne shook her head.
“It does not matter what he meant,” Nynaeve said. “I am just as glad they came last night, but I am glad to have them gone, too. I hope there is a ship here.”
Jurene itself was a small place, all wooden houses and none more than a single story, but the White Lion banner of Andor flew over it on a tall staff, and fifty of the Queen's Guards held it, in red coats with long white collars beneath shining breastplates. They had been placed there, their captain said, to make a safe haven for refugees who wished to flee to Andor, but fewer such came every day. Most went to villages further downriver, now, nearer Aringill. It was a good thing the three women had come when they did, as he expected to receive orders returning his company to Andor any day. The few inhabitants of Jurene would likely go with them, leaving what remained for brigands and the Cairhienin soldiers of warring Houses.
Elayne kept her face hidden in the hood of her sturdy wool cloak, but none of the soldiers seemed to associate the girl with redgold hair with their DaughterHeir. Some asked her to stay; Egwene was not sure whether Elayne was pleased or shocked. She herself told the men who asked her that she had no time for them. It was nice, in an odd way, to be asked; she certainly had no wish to kiss any of these fellows, but it was pleasant to be reminded that some men, at least, thought she was as pretty as Elayne. Nynaeve slapped one man's face. That almost made Egwene laugh, and Elayne smiled openly; Egwene thought Nynaeve had been pinched, and despite the glare on her face, she did not look entirely displeased, either.
They were not wearing their rings. It had not taken much effort on Nynaeve's part to convince them that one place they did not want to be taken for Aes Sedai was Tear, especially if the Black Ajah was there. Egwene had hers in her pouch with the stone ter'angreal; she touched it often to remind herself they were still there. Nynaeve wore hers on the cord that held Lan's heavy