按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
as she watched Perrin and the others pass。 A woman in a green silk riding dress。
He could see the glare on Masuri's face。 Aes Sedai did not stir kettles； nor perform twenty other tasks the Wise Ones had her and Seonid doing。 Masuri laid it at Rand's feet； but he was not here； and Perrin was。 Given half a chance； she would peel his hide for him。
Edarra and Nevarin turned up that way； even in those bulky skirts barely disturbing the layers of dead leaves that carpeted the ground。 Seonid followed； her cheeks still bulging around that scarf。 She twisted in her saddle； peering back at Perrin。 If he could have believed an Aes Sedai looking anxious； that was what he would have called her。 Riding behind her； Furen and Teryl wore scowls。
Masuri saw them ing and hastily bent back to the black kettle； stirring with renewed vigor； trying to make out that she had never stopped。 So long as Masuri stayed in the Wise Ones' charge； Perrin thought he did not have to worry about his hide。 The Wise Ones seemed to keep a very short leash。
Nevarin looked back over her shoulder at him； another of those dark stares he had been getting from her and Edarra since sending his warning； his threat； by the stubble…cheeked fellow。 Perrin exhaled in exasperation。 He did not have to worry about his pelt unless the Wise Ones decided they wanted it。 Too many personalities。 Too many goals。
Maighdin rode at Faile's side； seemingly paying no attention to what they passed； but he would not have wagered a split copper on it。 Her eyes had widened a hair at sight of the Mayener sentries。 She knew what red breastplates and helmets like rimmed pots meant； as surely as she had recognized an Aes Sedai face。 Most people would not have known either； especially not folk dressed as she was。 She was a mystery； this Maighdin。 For some reason； she seemed vaguely familiar。
Lini and Tallanvor … that was what he had heard Maighdin call the fellow who had ridden after her； 〃young〃 Tallanvor； though there could not have been more than four or five years between them if that … stayed as close behind Maighdin as possible； with Aram in the way trying to heel Perrin。 So did a little stick of a fellow with a pursed mouth； called Balwer； who seemed to pay less heed to their surroundings than Maighdin pretended。 Even so； Perrin thought Balwer saw more than she did。 He could not say why； precisely； but the few times he had caught the bony little man's scent； he had been minded of a wolf testing the air。 Strangely； there was no fear in Balwer； only quickly suppressed ridges of irritation shot through with the quivery smell of impatience。 The remainder of Maighdin's panions trailed along well back。 The third woman； Breane； was whispering fiercely to a hulking fellow who kept his eyes down and sometimes nodded silently； sometimes shook his head。 A shoulder…striker and street tough if ever there was one； but the short woman had an edge of toughness about her； too。 The last man sheltered behind those two； a stout man with a battered straw hat pulled low to hide his face。 On him； the sword the men all wore looked as strange as it did on Balwer。
The third part of the camp； spread out among the trees just around the curve of the hill from the Mayeners； covered as much ground as the Winged Guards' though it held far fewer people。 Here； the horses were picketed well away from the cook fires； so the unblemished smell of dinner filled the air。 Roasting goat； this time； and hard turnips the farmers probably had intended to feed to their pigs even with times as hard as they were。 Close on to three hundred Two Rivers men who had followed Perrin away from home were tending meat on spits； mending clothes； checking over arrows and bows； all scattered in haphazard clumps of five or six friends around a fire。 Nearly every one of them waved and shouted greetings； though there was too much of 〃Lord Perrin〃 and 〃Perrin Goldeneyes〃 to suit him。 Faile had a right to the titles they gave her。
Grady and Neald； unsweating in their night…black coats； did not cheer； standing beside the cook fire they had built a little away from everyone else； they merely looked at him。 Expectant looks； he thought。 Expecting what？ That was the question he always asked himself about them。 The Asha'man made him uneasy； more than Aes Sedai or Wise Ones。 Women channeling the Power was natural； if not exactly anything a man could be fortable around。 Plain…faced Grady appeared a farmer despite his coat and sword； and Neald a popinjay with his curled mustaches； yet Perrin could not forget what they were； what they had done at Dumai's Wells。 But then； he had been there； too。 The Light help him； he had。 Pulling his hand from the axe at his belt； he dismounted。
Servants； men and women from Lord Dobraine's estates in Cairhien； came running from the lines where the horses were picketed； to take their mounts。 None stood taller than Perrin's shoulder； country…clad folk； forever bowing and curtsying obsequiously。 Faile said he just upset them when he tried to make them stop； or at least not to bob around him so often； in truth； that was how they smelled when he did； and they always went back to bobbing in an hour or two。 Others； nearly as many as the Two Rivers men； were working with the horses or around the long rows of high…wheeled carts that hauled all their supplies。 A few were darting in and out of a large red…and…white tent。
As usual； that tent made Perrin grunt gloomily。 Berelain had a larger one back in the Mayener part of the camp； plus one for her two maids and another for the pair of thief…catchers she had insisted on bringing。 Annoura had a tent of her own； and Gallenne as well； but only he and Faile possessed one here。 For himself； he would have slept under the sky like the other men from home。 They had nothing over them at night but a blanket。 There was certainly no fear of rain。 The Cairhienin servants bedded down beneath the carts。 He could not ask Faile to do that； though； not when Berelain had a tent。 If only he could have left Berelain in Cairhien。 But then he would have had to send Faile into Bethal。
A pair of banners on tall； fresh…cut poles in the middle of a clear space near the tent soured his mood further。 The breeze had picked up a trifle； though it was still too warm； he thought he heard that thunder again； faint in the west。 The flags unfolded in slow waves； collapsed of their own weight； rippled open again。 His crimson…bordered Red Wolfhead and the Red Eagle of long…dead Manetheren； out in the open again despite his orders。 Perhaps he had stopped trying to hide； after a fashion； but what was now Ghealdan had been part of Manetheren； Alliandre would not be soothed by hearing of that banner！ He managed a pleasant face and a smile for the stocky little woman who curtsied deeply and took Stepper away； but it was a near thing。 Lords were supposed to be obeyed； and if he was supposed to be a lord； well； he seemed to be making a poor job of it。
Fists on her hips； Maighdin stood studying those rippling flags as her horse was taken off with the rest。 Surprisingly； Breane had both their bundles； held awkwardly； she wore a petulant scowl； direct