Faile felt her husband stir next to her as he slept. She glanced at him in the dark room; though she lay beside him on the pallet, she hadn't been sleeping. She'd been waiting, listening to his breaths. He turned onto his back, muttering drowsily.
Of all the nights for him to be restless . . . she thought with annoyance.
They were a week out of Maiden. The refugees had made camp—or, well, camps—near a waterway that led straight to the Jehannah Road, which was only a short distance away.
Things had gone smoothly these last few days, though Perrin had judged the Asha'man too tired still to make gateways. She had spent the evening with her husband, reminding him of several important reasons why he'd married her in the first place. He'd certainly been enthusiastic, though there was that odd edge to his eyes. Not a dangerous edge, just a sorrowful one. He had grown haunted while they were apart. She could understand that. She had a few ghosts of her own. One could not expect everything to remain the same, and she could tell that he still loved her—loved her fiercely. That was enough, and so she didn't worry on it further.
But she was planning an argument that would pull his secrets from him. She would wait a few more days for that. It was good to remind a husband that one would not sit content with everything he did, but it wouldn't do to make him think she was unappreciative to have him back.
Quite the opposite. She smiled, rolling over and laying her hand on his chest, furred with hair, her head on his bare shoulder. She loved this burly, tumbling avalanche of a man. Being back with him was sweeter, even, than the victory of her escape from the Shaido.
His eyes fluttered open and she sighed. Love him or not, she wished he'd remain asleep this night! Hadn't she tired him out enough?
He looked at her; his golden eyes seemed to glow just faintly in the darkness, though she knew it was a trick of the light. Then he pulled her a little closer. "I didn't sleep with Berelain," he said, voice gruff. "No matter what the rumors say."
Dear, sweet, blunt Perrin. "I know you didn't," she said consolingly. She'd heard the rumors. Virtually every woman she'd talked to in the camp, from Aes Sedai to servant, had pretended she was trying to hold her tongue, yet spilled the same news. Perrin, spending a night in the First of Mayene's tent.
"No, really," Perrin said, a pleading tone entering his voice. "I didn't, Faile. Please."
"I said I believed you."
"You sounded ... I don't know. Burn it, woman, you sounded jealous."
Would he never learn? "Perrin," she said flatly. "It took me the better part of a year—not to mention considerable trouble—to seduce you, and then it only worked because there was a marriage involved! Berelain hasn't the skill to handle you."
He reached his right hand up, scratching his beard, seeming confused. Then he just smiled.
"Besides," she added, snuggling closer, "you spoke the words. And I trust you."
"So you're not jealous?"
"Of course I am," she said, swatting his chest. "Perrin, haven't I explained this? A husband needs to know his wife is jealous, otherwise he won't realize how much she cares for him. You guard that which you find most precious. Honestly, if you keep making me spell things out like this, then I won't have any secrets left!"
r way, he needed to relax. And that village ahead—what had Vanin called it? Hinderstap? "How much coin do you have on you?"
Talmanes frowned. "Couple of gold marks, pouch full of silver crowns. Why?"
"Not enough," Mat said, rubbing his chin. "We'll have to dig some more out of my personal chest first. Maybe bring the whole thing." He turned Pips around. "Come on."
"Wait, Mat," Talmanes said, reining in and following. "What are we doing?"
"You're going to kindly take me up on my offer to go enjoy ourselves at the tavern," Mat said. "And while we're at it, we're going to resupply. If my luck's with me, we'll do it for free."
If Egwene or Nynaeve had been there, they'd have boxed his ears and told him he was going to do no such thing. Tuon probably would have looked at him curiously and then said something that made him feel his shame right down into his boots.
The good thing about Talmanes, however, was that he simply spurred his horse forward, face stoic, eyes betraying just a hint of amusement. "Well, I've got to see this, then!"
CHAPTER 21
Embers and Ash
Perrin opened his eyes and found himself hanging in the air. He felt a spike of terror, floundering in the sky. Black clouds boiled overhead, dark and ominous. Below, a plain of wild brown grasses rolled in the wind, no signs of humans. No tents, no roads, not even any footprints.
Perrin wasn't falling. He just hung there. He waved his arms reflex-ively, as if to swim, panicking as his mind tried to make sense of the dis-orientation.
The wolf dream, he thought. I'm in the wolf dream. I went to sleep, hoping to come here.
He forced himself to breathe in and out and still his flailing, though it was difficult to be calm while hanging hundreds of feet up in the sky. Suddenly, a gray-furred form shot past him, leaping through the air. The wolf soared down to the field below, landing easily.