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〃And if they have a few。。。 Aes Sedai？〃 Bakuun said quietly； hardly stumbling over the name； as he stuffed the flier's report back into the tube with his own brief message。 He had not really believed anyone could let those。。。 women run free。
Tiras' face showed that he remembered the tales about an Aes Sedai weapon。 The red streamer floated behind him as he ran with the message tube。
Soon enough tube and streamer were attached to the tip of the message pole； a tiny breeze stirring the long red strip fifteen paces above the hill crest。 The raken soared toward it along the valley； outstretched wings still as death。 Abruptly one of the fliers swung down from the saddle and hung … upside down！ … below the raken's trailing claws。 It made Bakuun's stomach hurt to watch。 But her hand closed on the streamer； the pole flexed； then vibrated back upright as the message tube pulled free of the clip； and she scrambled back up as the creature climbed in slow circles。
Bakuun thankfully put raken and fliers out of his mind as he surveyed the valley。 Broad and long； nearly flat except for this hill； and surrounded by steep wooded slopes； only a goat could enter； except by the passes in his sight。 With the damane； he could cut anybody to pieces before they managed to try attacking across that muddy meadow。 He had passed word along； though； if the enemy came straight on； they would arrive before any possible reinforcements by three days at best。 How had they e this far unseen？
He had missed the last battles of the Consolidation by two hundred years； but some of those rebellions had not been small。 Two years fighting on Marendalar； thirty thousand dead； and fifty times that shipped back to the mainland as property。 Taking notice of the strange kept a soldier alive。 Ordering the camp struck and all signs of it cleared； he began moving his mand to the forested slopes。 Dark clouds were massing in the east； another of those cursed storms ing。
Chapter 23
（Insect…Like； Horned Helmet）
Fog of War； Storm of Battle
No rain fell； for the moment。 Rand guided Tai'daishar around an uprooted tree lying across the slope and frowned down at a dead man sprawled on his back behind the tree trunk。 The fellow was short and blocky； his face creased； and his armor all overlapping plates lacquered blue and green； but staring sightlessly at the black clouds overhead； he looked a deal like Eagan Padros； even to the missing leg。 An officer； plainly； the sword beside his outflung hand had an ivory hilt carved in the likeness of a woman； and his lacquered helmet； shaped like some huge insect's head； bore two long thin blue plumes。
Uprooted trees and shattered ones； a fair number burning from end to end； littered the slope of the mountain for a good five hundred paces。 Bodies； too； men broken or ripped apart when saidin harrowed the mountainside。 Most wore steel veils across their faces； and breastplates painted in horizontal stripes。 No women； thank the Light。 The injured horses had been put down； another thing to be thankful for。 It was incredible how loudly a horse could scream。
Do you think the dead are silent？ Lews Therin's laugh was rasping。 Do you？ His voice turned to pained rage。 The dead howl at me！
At me； too； Rand thought sadly。 I can't afford to listen； but how do you shut them up？ Lews Therin began weeping for his lost Ilyena。
〃A great victory；〃 Weiramon intoned behind Rand； then muttered； 〃But small honor in it。 The old ways are best。〃 Mud liberally decorated Rand's coat； yet surprisingly； Weiramon appeared as pristine as he had back on the Silver Road。 His helmet and armor shone。 How had he managed？ The Taraboners charged； at the end； lances and courage against the One Power； and Weiramon had led his own charge to break them。 Without orders； and followed by every Tairen save the Defenders； even a half…drunk Torean； surprisingly。 By Semaradrid and Gregorin Panar； too； with most of the Cairhienin and Illianers。 Standing still had been hard by that time； and every man wanted to e to grips with something he actually could e to grips with。 The Asha'man could have done it faster。 If somewhat more messily。
Rand had taken no part in the righting； except to sit his saddle where men could see him。 He had been afraid to seize the Power。 He did not dare display weakness for them to catch。 Not a scrap。 Lews Therin gibbered with horror at the very idea。
Equally surprising as Weiramon's unsullied coat； Anaiyella rode with him； and for once not simpering。 Her face was pinched and disapproving。 Strangely； it did not spoil her looks nearly so much as her unctuous smiles did。 She had not joined the charge herself； of course； any more than Ailil； but Anaiyella's Master of the Horse had； and the man was most definitely dead； with a Taraboner lance through his chest。 She did not like that one bit。 But why did she acpany Weiramon？ Just Tairens flocking together？ Maybe。 She had been with Sunamon； the last Rand had seen。
Bashere walked his bay up the slope； picking his way around the dead while seeming to pay them no more mind than he did a splintered tree trunk or a burning stump。 His helmet hung from his saddle； and his gauntlets were stuffed behind his sword belt。 He was mud all down his right side； and his horse as well。
〃Arae's gone；〃 he said。 〃Flinn tried Healing him； but I don't think Arae wanted to live like that。 There's near fifty dead so far； and some of the rest might not survive。〃 Anaiyella paled。 Rand had seen her near Arae； emptying herself。 Dead moners did not affect her so much。
Rand felt a moment of pity。 Not for her； and not very much for Arae。 For Min； though she was safely back in Cairhien。 Min had foretold Arae's death from one of her viewings； and Gueyam and Maraconn's； too。 Whatever she had seen； Rand hoped it had not been anywhere near the reality。
Most of the Soldiers were off scouting again； but down in the broad meadow； gateways woven by Gedwyn's Dedicated were spilling out the supply carts and the remounts。 The men ing with them gaped as soon as they were clear enough to see。 The muddy ground was not so well plowed as the mountainside； yet blackened furrows； two paces wide and fifty long； carved through the brown grass； and gaping holes a horse might not be able to leap。 They had not found the damane so far。 Rand thought there had to be only one； more would have done considerably greater damage under the circumstances。
Men moved around a number of small fires where water boiled for tea； among other things。 For once； Tairens； Cairhienin and Illianers mingled。 Not just the moners。 Semaradrid was sharing his saddle…flask with Gueyam； who wearily rubbed a hand over his bald head。 Maraconn and Kiril Drapaneos； a stork of a man whose square…cut beard looked odd on his narrow face； were squatting on their heels near one of the fires。 Playing cards； by the look of it！ Torean had a whole circle of laughing Cairhienin lordlings around him； though they might have been less amused by his jokes than by the way he swayed and rubbed at his potato nose。 The Legionmen kept apart； but they had taken in the 〃voluntee