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Rosana glared right back at Semaradrid； a lean woman； not tall yet nearly as tall as he； with eyes like blue ice。 She did not wait for him to finish； either； and she； too； spoke to Rand。 〃I've e too far and invested too much in you to see you die now； for nothing；〃 she said bluntly。 No more a fool than Tolmeran； Rosana had claimed a place in the councils of the High Lords； though Tairen High Ladies seldom did； and blunt was the word for her。 Despite the armor most of the noblewomen wore； none actually led their armsmen into battle； yet Rosana carried a flanged mace on her saddle； and sometimes Rand thought she would like a chance to use it。 〃I doubt those Illianers lack for bows；〃 she said； 〃and it takes only one arrow to kill even the Dragon Reborn。〃 Pursing his lips thoughtfully； Marcolin nodded before catching himself； then exchanged startled looks with Rosana； each more surprised than the other to find themselves of like mind with an ancient enemy。
〃These peasants could never have found the mettle to stay under arms without encouragement；〃 Weiramon continued smoothly； ignoring Rosana。 He was skilled at ignoring who； and what； he did not want to see or hear。 He was a fool。 〃May I suggest my Lord Dragon look to these so…called Nine for the source？〃
〃I do protest this Tairen pig's insults； Majesty！〃 Gregorin growled right atop him； one hand darting to his sword。 〃I do protest most heartily！〃
〃There are too many this time；〃 Semaradrid said at the same instant。 〃Most will turn against you as soon as your back is to them in any case。〃 By his pointed frown； he might have been speaking of the Tairens as well as the men on the wooded hills。 Perhaps he was。 〃Better to kill them and be done！〃
〃Did I ask for opinions？〃 Rand snapped harshly。 Babble became silence； except for the crack of cloaks and banners flapping in the wind。 Suddenly expressionless faces regarded him； more than one going gray。 They did not know he held the Power； but they knew him。 Not all of what they knew was truth； but it was just as well they believed。 〃You will e with me； Gregorin；〃 he said in a more normal voice。 Still hard； though。 Steel was all they understood； go soft； and they would turn on him。 〃And you； Marcolin。 The rest stay here。 Dashiva！ Hopwil！〃
Everyone not named reined their horses back hurriedly as the two Asha'man rode to join Rand； and the Illianers eyed the black…coated men as though they would have liked to remain behind； too。 Aside from anything else； Corlan Dashiva was glowering and muttering under his breath as he so often did。 Everyone was aware that saidin drove men mad sooner or later； and plain…faced Dashiva certainly looked the part； lank untrimmed hair flying in the wind； licking his lips and shaking his head。 For that matter； Eben Hopwil； just sixteen and still with a few scattered blotches on his cheeks； wore a staring frown that gazed beyond anything in sight。 At least Rand knew the why of that。
As the Asha'man drew near； Rand could not help cocking his head to listen； though what he listened for was inside his head。 Alanna was there； of course； neither the Void nor the Power altered that a whisker。 Distance wore that awareness down to just that … awareness that she existed； somewhere far to the north … yet there was something more today； something he had felt several times recently； dim and barely on the edge of notice。 A whisper of shock； perhaps； or outrage； a breath of something sharp he could not quite grasp。 She must feel whatever it was very strongly for him to be even that conscious of it at this distance。 Maybe she was missing him。 A wry thought。 He did not miss her。 Ignoring Alanna was easier than it had been once。 She was there； but not the voice that used to shout of death and killing whenever an Asha'man came into sight。 Lews Therin was gone。 Unless that feel of someone staring at the back of his head； brushing his shoulder blades with a finger； was him。 Was there a madman's hoarse laughter deep in his thoughts？ Or was it his own？ The man had been there！ He had！
He became aware of Marcolin staring at him； and Gregorin trying very hard not to。 〃Not yet；〃 he told them wryly； and almost laughed when they clearly understood right away。 Relief was too plain on their faces for anything else。 He was not insane。 Yet。 〃e；〃 he told them； and started Tai'daishar down the slope at a trot。 Despite the men following； he felt alone。 Despite the Power； he felt empty。
Between the ridge and the hills lay patches of thick scrub and long stretches of dead grass； a glistening mat of brown and yellow beaten flat by the rain。 Only a few days ago the ground had been so parched that he had thought it could drink a river without changing。 Then the torrents came； sent by the Creator finding mercy at last； or maybe by the Dark One in a fit of black humor； he did not know which。 Now the horses' hooves splashed mud at every second step。 He hoped this did not take long。 He had some time； by what Hopwil had reported； but not forever。 Perhaps weeks； if he was lucky。 He needed months。 Light； he needed years he would never have！
His hearing heightened by the Power； he could make out some of what the men behind him were saying。 Gregorin and Marcolin rode knee…to…knee； trying to hold their cloaks against the wind and speaking in low tones about the men ahead； about their fears the men might fight。 Neither doubted they would be crushed if they resisted； but they feared the effect on Rand； and his on Illian； if Illianers fought him now that Brend was dead。 They still could not bring themselves to give Brend his true name； Sammael。 The very notion that one of the Forsaken had ruled in Illian frightened them even more than the fact that the Dragon Reborn ruled there now。
Dashiva； slumped in his gray's saddle like a man who had never seen a horse before； muttered angrily under his breath。 In the Old Tongue； which he spoke and read as fluently as a scholar。 Rand knew a little； though not enough to understand what the fellow was mumbling。 Probably plaints about the weather； despite being a farmer； Dashiva disliked being out…of…doors unless the skies were clear。
Only Hopwil rode in silence； frowning at something beyond the horizon； his hair and cloak whipping about as wildly as Dashiva's。 Now and then he clutched the hilt of his sword unconsciously。 Rand had to speak three times； the last sharply； before Hopwil gave a surprised jerk and booted his lanky dun up beside Tai'daishar。
Rand studied him。 The young man … not a boy any longer； no matter his age … had filled out since Rand first saw him； though his nose and ears still seemed made for a bigger man。 A Dragon； red…enameled gold； now balanced the silver Sword on his high collar； just like Dashiva's。 Once； he had said he would laugh a year for joy when the Dragon was his； but he stared unblinking at Rand as though looking through him。
〃What you learned was good news；〃 Rand told him。 Only an effort kept him from trying to crush the Dragon Scepter in his fist。 〃You did well。〃 He had expected the Seanchan to return； but not so soon。 He had hoped not so soon。 And not leaping out of nowhere； swallowing cities