You will not defeat Slayer like this, Hopper sent.
"Then I will keep learning," Perrin said.
There is little time.
"I will learn more quickly."
Can you?
"We have no other choice." You could choose not to fight him.
Perrin shook his head. "Do we run from our prey? If we do, they'll hunt us instead. I will face him, and I need to be prepared." There is a way. The wolf smelled of worry. "I'll do what I have to."
Follow. Hopper vanished, and Perrin caught an unexpected scent: refuse and mud, burning wood and coal. People.
Perrin shifted and found himself atop a building in Caemlyn. He had visited this city only once, and briefly, and seeing the beautiful Inner City
before him ancient buildings, domes and spires rising atop the hill like majestic pines atop a crowned mountain gave him pause. He was near the old wall, beyond which spread the New City.
Hopper sat at his side, looking over the beautiful city. Much of the city itself was said to be Ogier-built, and Perrin could believe it, with that marvelous beauty. Tar Valon was said to be more grand than Caemlyn. Perrin had trouble believing that was possible.
"Why are we here?" Perrin asked.
Men dream here, Hopper replied.
In the real world, they did. Here, the place was empty. It was light enough to be day, despite that storm overhead, and Perrin felt there should be people crowding the streets. Women, going to and from market. Nobles atop horses. Wagons bearing barrels of ale and sacks of grain. Children scampering, slipfingers searching for marks, workers replacing paving stones, enterprising hawkers offering meat pies to them all.
Instead, there were hints. Shadows. A fallen handkerchief on the street. Doors that were open one moment, then closed the next. A thrown horseshoe sticking from the mud of an alleyway. It was as if all of the people had been whisked away, snatched by Fades or some monster from a gleeman's dark tale.
A woman appeared momentarily below. She wore a beautiful green and gold dress. She stared at the street, eyes glazed over, then was gone. People did occasionally appear in the wolf dream. Perrin figured it must happen to them when they were asleep, part of their natural dreams.
This place, Hopper said, is not only a place of wolves. It is a place of all.
"Of all?" Perrin asked, sitting down on the rooftiles.
All souls know this place, Hopper said. They come here when they reach for it.
"When they're dreaming."
Yes, Hopper said, lying down beside him. The fear-dreams of men are strong. So very strong. Sometimes, those terrible dreams come here. Tha
t sending was an enormous wolf, the size of a building, knocking aside much smaller wolves who tried to snap at him. There was a scent of terror and death about the wolf. Like ... a nightmare.
Perrin nodded slowly.
Many wolves have been caught in the pains of these fear-dreams. They appear more commonly where men might walk, though the dream lives without those who created it.
Hopper looked at Perrin. Hunting in the fear-dreams will teach you strength. But you might die. It is very dangerous.
"I don't have time to be safe anymore," Perrin said. "Let's do it."
Hopper didn't ask if he was certain. He jumped down to the street, and Perrin followed, landing softly. Hopper began to lope forward, so Perrin broke into a jog.
"How do we find them?" Perrin asked.
Smell fear, Hopper sent. Terror.
Perrin closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. Just as doors flashed open and closed, in the wolf dream he could sometimes smell things there for a moment, then gone. Musty winter potatoes. The dung of a passing horse. A pie, baking.