Caraline glanced over her shoulder as the hatchet-faced man turned away abruptly. “I could believe it easily of Daved Hanlon,” she said wryly. “His White Lions fight for gold, not Cairhien, and loot worse than the Aiel. Andor became too hot for them, it seems.” That with an arch glance at Rand. “Toram has promised him a great deal of gold, I think, and estates I know.” She tilted her eyes up to Min. “Do you know the man, Jaisi?”
Min could only shake her head. How to explain what she did know about Hanlon now, that his hands would be red with more rapes and murders before he died? If she had known when or who . . . But all she knew was that he would. Anyway, telling about a viewing never changed it; what she saw happened, no matter who she warned. Sometimes, before she had learned better, it had happened because she warned.
“I’ve heard of the White Lions,” Rand said coldly. “Look among them for Darkfriends, and you won’t be disappointed.” They had been some of Gaebril’s soldiers; Min knew that much, and little more, except that Lord Gaebril had really been Rahvin. It stood to reason that soldiers serving one of the Forsaken would include Darkfriends.
“What of him?” Rand nodded toward a man across the tent whose long dark coat had as many stripes as Caraline’s dress. Very tall for a Cairhienin, perhaps less than a full head shorter than Rand, he was slender except for broad shoulders, and strikingly good-looking, with a strong chin and just a touch of gray at his dark temples. For some reason, Min’s eyes were drawn to his companion, a skinny little fellow with a large nose and wide ears, in a red silk coat that did not fit him very well. He kept fingering a curved dagger at his belt, a fancy piece with a golden sheath and a large red stone capping the hilt that seemed to catch the light darkly. She saw no auras around him. He seemed vaguely familiar. They were both looking at her and Rand.
“That,” Caraline breathed in a tight voice, “is Lord Toram Riatin himself. And his constant companion these past days, Master Jeraal Mordeth. Odious little man. His eyes make me want to take a bath. They both make me feel unclean.” She blinked, surprised at what she had said, but recovered quickly. Min had the feeling little put Caraline Damodred off her stride for long. In that, she was very like Moiraine. “I would be careful were I you, Cousin Tomas,” she went on. “You may have wrought some miracle or ta’veren-work on me — and perhaps even on Darlin — though I cannot say what it might come to — I make no promises — but Toram hates you with a passion. It was not so bad before Mordeth joined him, yet since . . . Toram would have us attack the city immediately, in the night. With you dead, he says, the Aiel would go, but I think it is you dead he seeks now even more than he does the throne.”
“Mordeth,” Rand said. His eyes were locked to Toram Riatin and the skinny fellow. “His name is Padan Fain, and there are one hundred thousand golden crowns on his head.”
Caraline nearly dropped her goblet. “Queens have been ransomed for less. What did he do?”
“He ravaged my home because it was my home.” Rand’s face was frozen, his voice ice. “He brought Trollocs to kill my friends because they were my friends. He is a Darkfriend, and a dead man.” Those last words came through clenched teeth. Punch splashed to the carpet as the silver goblet bent in his gloved fist.
Min felt sick for him, for his pain — she had heard what Fain had done in the Two Rivers — but she put a hand on Rand’s chest in near panic. If he gave way now, channeled with who knew how many Aes Sedai around . . . ”For the Light’s sake, take hold of yourself,” she began, and a woman’s voice spoke pleasantly behind her.
“Will you present me to your tall young friend, Caraline?”
Min looked over her shoulder, right into an ageless face, cool-eyed beneath iron-gray hair pulled up into a bun from which dangled small golden ornaments. Swallowing a squeak, Min coughed. She had thought Caraline had taken her in in one glance, but these cool eyes seemed to know things about her she herself had forgotten. The Aes Sedai’s smile, as she adjusted her green-fringed shawl, was not nearly so pleasant as her voice.
“Of course, Cadsuane Sedai.” Caraline sounded shaken, but she smoothed her tone well before she finished introducing her visiting “cousin” and his “wife.” “But I fear Cairhien is no place for them at present,” she said, all self-possession once more, smiling regret that she could not keep Rand and Min longer. “They have agreed to take my advice and return to Andor.”
“Have they?” Cadsuane said dryly. Min’s heart sank. Even if Rand had not spoken of her, it was clear from the way she looked at him that she knew him. Tiny golden birds and moons and stars swayed as she shook her head. “Most boys learn not to stick their fingers into the pretty fire the first time they are burned, Tomas. Others need to be spanked, to learn. Better a tender bottom than a seared hand.”
“You know I’m no child,” Rand told her sharply.
“Do I?” She eyed him from head to toe, and made it seem no very great distance. “Well, it seems I shall soon see whether or not you need spanking.” Those cool eyes drifted to Min, to Caraline, and with a final hitch to her shawl, Cadsuane herself drifted away into the crowd.
Min swallowed the lump in her throat, and was pleased to see Caraline do the same, self-possession or no. Rand — the blind fool! — stared after the Aes Sedai as though intending to go after her. This time it was Caraline who laid a hand on Rand’s chest.
“I take it you know Cadsuane,” she said breathily. “Be careful of her; even the other, sisters stand in awe of her.” Her throaty tones took on a note of gravity. “I have no idea what will come of today, but whatever it is, I think it is time you were gone, ‘Cousin Tomas.’ Past time. I will have horses — “
“This is your cousin, Caraline?” said a deep, rich man’s voice, and Min jumped in spite of herself.
Toram Riatin was even better-looking close up than at a distance, with the sort of strong male beauty and air of worldly knowledge that would have attracted Min before she met Rand. Well, she still found them attractive, just not as much as she did Rand. His firm-lipped smile was quite appealing.
Toram’s gaze fell to Caraline’s hand, still on Rand’s chest. “The Lady Caraline is to be my wife,” he said lazily. “Did you know that?”
Caraline’s cheeks reddened angrily. “Do not say that, Toram! I have told you I will not, and I will not!”
Toram smiled at Rand. “I think women never know their minds until you show them. What do you think, Jeraal? Jeraal?” He looked around, scowling. Min stared at him in amazement. And he was so pretty, with just the right air of . . . She wished she could call up viewings at will. She very much wanted to know what the future held for this man.
“I saw your friend scurry off that way, Toram.” Mouth twisted with distaste, Caraline gave a vague wave of her hand. “You will find him near the drink, I think, or else bothering the serving girls.”
“Later, my precious.” He tried to touch her cheek, and looked amused when she stepped back. Without a pause he transferred his amusement to Rand. And the sword at his side. “Would you care for a little sport, cousin? I call you that because we will be cousins, once Caraline is my wife. With practice swords, of course.”
“Certainly not,” Caraline laughed. “He is a boy, Toram, and scarce knows one end of that thing from the other. His mother would never forgive me, if I allowed — “
“Sport,” Rand said abruptly. “I might as well see where this leads. I agree.”
Chapter 36
Blades
* * *
Min did not know whether to groan or shout or sit down and cry. Caraline, staring wide-eyed at Rand, seemed in the same quandary.