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They're watching you. They're always watching.
Mai reached out with practiced ease and squashed the voice with a well-placed mental fist. She did not know which one it was; sometimes she could tell, but often there was no way to figure out who was ranting in her mind. The worst was when the voices shouted at each other, as if unaware that they were two disembodied thoughts drifting around in the back of a girl's head. It had never occurred to her that she might be making them up - mostly because she was sure that she would never dream up two opinionated, argumentative, and not entirely sane men.
She made herself look away from the woods. Someone was following her, but they did not feel like a threat. Not in the way Trocs or Shady-Men did. Those sent shivers down her spine. Vaguely Mai wondered what she would sense when she saw a demon or a Shadowed. Not if, but when. There were no ifs for the Paladin. Not ever.
Three weeks ago, there had been all sorts of ifs. She could study in Dicia if she could only convince her parents that she would not be hunted down and hung for the mark on her cheek; she could marry Wat if he ever showed any sign that he returned her vague but ever-present affection; she could manage the family manor if it could be kept away from grasping Tashiri hands long enough. That was before a Shady-Man and too many Trocs to count had ridden into Baradell, trampling Tashiri soldiers and Manthrinian watchmen alike, all come in search of her. If not for Quentin and Hilden – if not for Tamla's knives – if not for Hal suddenly unleashing a torrent of idan and blowing the granary sky-high...
If. No more ifs, not for any of them.
There are always ifs when you know where to look. That was the voice she had labeled the Teacher. When it sounded sane, anyway. The taint makes ifs and choices, but they are not always pleasant ones.
The taint. Mai clutched her skirts harder as she strode purposefully along, not caring if she splattered mud on her companions. It was not the same as the Madness that had gripped men before Arma'gai'din - more than two thousand years ago - but it was there, lurking and waiting. To channel idar without being driven insane required special a'grel and a great deal of hard work, but it was still possible. The Sisterhood of the Order was a prime example of that fact.
Mai knew that was not an option for her. Even if she had wanted it. To be a Sister required swearing an unbreakable Oath of Fealty to the High Seat. She would never do that, not to the Order that had turned a blind eye when the Tashiri had swept in from the east and had taken North Manthrin by force. She would trust the Order as far as she could throw the Manifest and she would trust the Sisterhood even less.
Never. Not an inch. That was the other voice she could distinguish clearly. She called that one the Warrior. She did not know his name any more than she knew the Teacher's. With a resigned sigh Mai walled off the voices again – separately; together meant they would just be at each other's throats all the sooner – and concentrated on walking. She could feel the eyes from the woods staring at her, but she did not care. She was too busy trying to shut up the persistent noise in her head.
***
Jaia managed to keep the surprise off of her face when Tem suddenly fell into step beside her. Although the two were close friends, it was always flamboyant, quick-witted Tem who took the lead and got everyone else into trouble. She never moved at someone else's pace. "Something on your mind?" she asked as cheerfully as she could.
Tem glanced over her shoulder at Mai, busy staring at random parts of the woods. "Yeah. More than one something." She grimaced, an expression that always meant she was trying to figure out how to express something difficult. "Has Mai called you anything, Jaia? A different name?"
Sweet Light preserve us and protect us. Her voice came out as a harsh whisper from a suddenly dry throat. "Once. Just after we left Baradell." Mai's words echoed in her head. "My turn to take watch, Perrin."
"I was hoping..." Tem trailed off and stared past the woods. Probably at her own memories. "Ah, forget what I was hoping. Did you know the name?"
Jaia shook her head. "I never heard it before. You?"
"Same." It was said just a little too quickly, a little too flippantly. Oh, Light. Jaia made herself relax and listen to the rest of what Tem was saying. "What about dreams? Not nightmares. Dreams that felt real – that you don't forget."
Jaia shivered, apparently all the answer Tem needed. She did not want to talk about those dreams. Being hunted in her own village by a woman with red hair and a blue silk dress who said she only wanted to talk, just for a moment. A man so commanding that it was a battle not to kneel before him as he held a sword made of blue fire. A boy only a few years older than she, handsome despite his fright and the ugly black collar hanging around his neck, shouting desperately for her to run, to save herself before it was too late.
And that was not the worst of it, not by any means.
There were times when windows opened in the heavens and she could see things. Wat choosing between a sword and a ball of fire, knowing his decision would change the world. Mel fighting against a girl with a bow and then turning around and fighting beside her. Alse putting on a crown as heavy as the world. Tamla in a cave made of enormous fangs. Mai standing so close to a man and a boy that her features merged with theirs. Tem holding a white rod that glowed as bright as the sun. Dav and a young girl with the brightest hair Jaia had ever seen clutching each other as they jumped off of a sheer cliff.
"I've had some," she said simply. "Not a lot."
Another grimace. "There's something hunting me." Tem sounded frightened now, as scared as anyone Jaia had ever seen. "Someone. I know who it is, but when I wake up it's all gone. Everything I need to know is gone. And when Mai talks to me, I almost answer to another name." She shivered and clutched her spear with both hands. "If this is what being vereni means, I don't want it."
"I don't think we have a choice," Jaia said quietly. Mai was watching them; she did not need to turn around to feel her friend's eyes. She heaved a deep, heartfelt sigh. "Not any of us."
***
Lady Layla Helios, holder of the Trahelion lands and one of the most powerful women in Dicia, had learned when to kneel and when to command. Now was the time for the former. She knew whom the Great Lord held in high favor; although she ranked well above mere Shady-Men, she was not on the level of the Nae'blis. Not yet. "I serve you and here your words as I would those of the Great Lord of the Dark."
The man to whom she offered such praise smiled faintly. "You could take lessons in humility from your sister."
Layla chuckled inwardly at the mention of her sister. Not a hint of her amusement showed on her face; she had always been very good at keeping unwanted thoughts hidden from others. "Gwaindlyn does not have the imagination to be anything but humble. Had the Great Lord wished such devotion, he would have selected her."
"And if the Great Lord had wished true independence," he answered mildly, "he would have selected Ihvan."
He would bring up her younger brother just to taunt her. Ihvan was as strong as she in the One Power, perhaps one of the strongest male channelers born in many hundreds of years, but he was barely sixteen and far too open and direct. He would not understand subtle questions and direct ones would simply have him bringing the M'Hael down on whoever was sent to ask him. "I serve the Great Lord faithfully," she said simply. "I always have."
"Yes, I know. Otherwise you would not stand as high as you do." The man squatted down so that he was level with her, ice-blue eyes meeting her own. She could see why he had risen so far in the world, even when it was necessary for him to hide his own considerable power in idan. "He trusts you to find the Paladin and her companions. You have succeeded." It was not a question.
"There are two vereni traveling with the girl and another who might become one given half a chance. At least two of the men can channel other than the A'sh'man; one of them could hold you easily, I think, whenever he is trained." She almost smiled at the man's sour expression. "There is a woman there who can learn – not as powerful as the Paladin, but still formidable. And the Guardian will be a problem. She can walk in the Dreaming as easily as you or I. She is a beastspeaker."
The man's mouth twisted with disgust. "I was expecting little better. DeShellay is all that matters to me. Keep her from reaching Aravalon at all costs. Send the Trocs after her if necessary. I have other things to attend to."
Layla raised an eyebrow. "Things other than the Great Lord's wishes?"
"Things that could bring another into our ranks, if I am successful. If she is not hung first. Eternal life is tempting, especially for those women too strong for the Sisterhood – or need I remind you of that?"
"You do not need to remind me of anything," Layla said smoothly. She knew all too well that the Sisterhood killed women who could channel more than small amounts of idar. A precaution, they called it, in case the a'grel did not hold. She was many times more powerful than any of the little fools had ever seen. And she was one of those the Sisterhood called demons, just like the legendary thirteen so many hundreds of years ago.
"I did not think so." The man smiled again, colder than a Venderken winter. "Do as instructed. See that they do not reach Aravalon."
"I hear and obey." For now. Soon she would be ordering him around. High Seat or no, Elador Illumata Imperion would kneel to her when she was named Nae'blis.
***
"We are being followed."
It was said so calmly that at first Tem did not think the A'sh'man was serious. Only when Hilden started moving toward the woods along the overgrown path did she realize it had been intended as a statement of fact. Should have known bloody A'sh'man don't joke, she thought as she readied her spear.
Then everything happened at once.
Hilden flew backwards out of the bushes. An invisible fist gripped Tem hard enough to force air from her lungs. The ground parted company with her feet and the world twisted around crazily until, finally, she found herself hanging upside-down three feet in the air and being very glad that her shirt was tucked in.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that most of the others were in the same predicament. Wat had managed to hang onto a tree branch; Jaia had firmly attached herself to him and did not seem to plan on letting go any time soon, even though her feet shifted as if they were trying to fly out from under her. Quentin was standing upright, but he was straightening his coat as if it had been hanging at his ears a moment ago.
Mai had not moved an inch. She did not even look ruffled.
"One of the Red Hand," Hilden said calmly, as if she was hung upside down like a piece of wet laundry every day. "I did not know they recruited channelers."
Tem's eyes flew to the woods and to the boy emerging from them. Everyone knew about the Red Hand. They were fighters, mercenaries, and runaways who lived on luck, swearing never to join an army or take sides, yet always robbing Tashiri convoys and handing out the takings to farmers, shopkeepers, and beggars. But this boy was not at all like Tem had imagined one of the famous band would look. He was about her age, with shaggy red-brown hair and a wiry build almost – but not quite – concealed by ragged, mismatched clothing. A long knife hung from his belt beside a quiver of arrows. His spear was easily the strangest one Tem had ever seen, more of a blade on a stick than anything else.
"You are not Tashiri." The boy sounded as if this was their faults.
"Bloody right we're not." Alse grabbed for a tree branch, missing by a good three feet. "We're Manthrinian. Same as you, you bloody scoundrel."
The boy's eyes narrowed. The world spun again and Tem found herself standing on solid ground again. The others had also been returned to earth – all except Alse, who still hung in the air by an ankle. She growled and reached for her dagger as if intending to throw it at him upside down. Tem braced herself to break up something ugly.
"The Red Hand have no ties." Quentin spoke quietly, but his soft voice might as well have been a shout. "They have no lineage, no past, nothing save their luck and the moment." He turned away from Alse and gave the boy a small, polite smile. "What is your name?"
"Darris, A'sh'man." The boy did not sound respectful, precisely, but there was a sense that he was talking to an equal – something that had been decidedly lacking when he was speaking to Alse. "Darris nin Ka'ton a'Tames l'E'ten."
Hilden gave the boy a slow nod. "Very young to be in the Tame," she said after a moment. "Much less the Ka'ton."
The boy drew himself up proudly. "I passed the tests. I have the markings."
"We do not doubt it, Darris nin Ka'ton," Quentin said a trifle quickly, perhaps to forestall another use of idan. Surely that was what had happened, Tem realized. The boy must have been a channeler. "I am Quentin Asuwa," the A'sh'man was saying. "This is my Guardian, Lady Hilden Blueford."
Darris nodded slowly before shifting his green eyes to Hal. "He's a channeler," he said after a moment. "Not a Soldier, either."
"No more than you." Hilden glanced at Quentin with a raised eyebrow; the A'sh'man nodded fractionally. Someday Tem would learn what all of their silent communication meant. "Why have you been following us?"
Darris stared at her. "You saw me?" He sounded disappointed. "I heard Guardians had a wolf's ears and eyes." Now he was impressed. The boy was as impossible to read as anyone Tem had ever seen. "I was being careful."
"Yes, you were," Hilden admitted. "I would not have noticed you if not for Quentin."
"What about her?" Darris pointed to Mai, who stared at his finger as if it might try to bite her. "She saw me, too."
"I didn't see you," Mai retorted. "I just felt you, that's all."
Tem threw a look at Jaia, who shifted her feet uneasily. It was bad enough when their friend sounded strange and mysterious; it was worse when she talked about using idar as if she was the same old Mai.
Darris frowned at her, but whatever he was about to say was overridden by Alse's curse. "Get me down from here, you bloody oaf. I'll skin you alive and feed your bones to the bloody crows!"
Hal cleared his throat. "Um, I don't want to be rude, but maybe you should let her down. She really is friendly when you get to know her." Darris set his jaw and glared at the Brother. "Or not," Hal finished faintly.
This was not going to get them anywhere. Tem had had enough. "Put her down right now," she barked. Darris stared at her. "You heard me. Right bloody now." Flaming idiot. She pulled the brim of her hat down over her eyes and marched forward so she could glare at the woolheaded lump. "Are you deaf or just stupid? Do I have to repeat myself? I. Said. Right. Bloody. Flaming. Now."
There was a thump and a curse behind her as Alse was returned to the ground. Tem gave a short nod. "Good. About bloody time. I'd drag you around the camp by your ears if I thought it would do any flaming good." She turned around and stalked back to Jaia and Wat, mostly because she could not quite believe what she had just done. Mai's the one who's supposed to go crazy, not me. Blood and bloody flaming ashes! I don't need this! She could feel Quentin's considering stare on her. I'm Tem E'Brell and I'm going to remember that if it kills me. Assuming Darris-nin-whatever doesn't beat me to it.
"Remind me not to get on your bad side," Wat muttered. Tem almost hit him with the butt of her spear.
"Well. Now that everyone has been safely settled." Quentin nodded to Darris, who was watching Tem as if he expected her to start spitting fire out of her ears. "Young man, is there a band camped nearby?"
"What?" Darris pulled himself together with a visible effort. "No, A'sh'man. Just me. Advance scout. Nearest band is three days' ride."
Quentin nodded; Tem thought she saw a flicker of disappointment. "You are more than welcome to stay and share dinner with us, Darris nin Ka'ton. We have little enough to offer, but if you are traveling alone, you are probably not feasting anyway."
The boy nodded slowly. "Only until we get near my camp. And I'm not sitting near her." He gave Mai a wary look before smiling at Tem. "Hey! You don't happen to dice, do you?"
Tem ignored Wat's mutter about matches made in the Light. All she could think about was the dice in her head – and the way they had suddenly stopped.
***
Sometimes, when he had time to wonder, Brendell Cane wished he knew if the fool girls had listened to his warnings. It was hard to touch the Dreaming with his dam'a around his neck, not to mention painful, but it was possible. The Paladin had to be warned.
What frightened him was that he did not know how he knew that the girl in gray was the Paladin or that her friends were important. It was like seeing something through someone else's eyes and using knowledge that was not even his. It was terrifying. And yet he used it, all of it, because he had to. He had spied on the demons' meetings when everyone thought him asleep. The Paladin was walking into a fistful of Trocs and Shady-Men.
"Up with you, boy." Leese Dalor prodded him with a stick, her hard face glaring down at him. It was a carefully kept secret; in order for a woman, even a weak one, to safely channel idar, a man had to power the a'grel that protected her. No one knew why. No one knew how. And since no man would willingly attach himself to something that could kill him or leave him insane, it was necessary to hold him by force.
A dirty little secret, but one that Brendell had lived with all his nineteen years. He was supposedly very powerful and thus prized; he could not remember living without the dam'a.
He let Leese drag him across the courtyard of the Manifest, toward the small, bunker-like building that housed the Sisterhood of the Order of the Illumined Creator. The sky was clear for the first time in days. Even though it meant painful tugging, he stopped long enough to stare up at the glittering points of light.
And the moon. He had always loved the moon.
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