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。 Not Emond's Field。
As he made his way down the Green； people called to him； some from the ruins of their homes； asking if they could help。 He heard them only as murmurs in the background； even when they walked alongside him for a distance as they spoke。 Without really thinking about it he managed words that said he needed no help； that everything was being taken care of。 When they left him； with worried looks； and sometimes a ment about sending Nynaeve to him； he noticed that just as little。 All he let himself be aware of was the purpose he had fixed in his head。 Bran al'Vere could do something to help Tam。 What that could be he tried not to dwell on。 But the Mayor would be able to do something； to think of something。
The inn had almost pletely escaped the destruction that had taken half the village。 A few scorch marks marred its walls； but the red roof tiles glittered in the sunlight as brightly as ever。 All that was left of the peddler's wagon； though； were blackened iron wheel…rims leaning against the charred wagon box； now on the ground。 The big round hoops that had held up the canvas cover slanted crazily； each at a different angle。
Thom Merrilin sat cross…legged on the old foundation stones； carefully snipping singed edges from the patches on his cloak with a pair of small scissors。 He set down cloak and scissors when Rand drew near。 Without asking if Rand needed or wanted help； he hopped down and picked up the back of the litter。
〃Inside？ Of course； of course。 Don't you worry； boy。 Your Wisdom will take care of him。 I've watched her work； since last night； and she has a deft touch and a sure skill。 It could be a lot worse。 Some died last night。 Not many； perhaps； but any at all are too many for me。 Old Fain just disappeared； and that's the worst of all。 Trollocs will eat anything。 You should thank the Light your father's still here； and alive for the Wisdom to heal。〃
Rand blotted out the words … He is my father！ … reducing the voice to meaningless sound that he noticed no more than a fly's buzzing。 He could not bear any more sympathy； any more attempts to boost his spirits。 Not now。 Not until Bran al'Vere told him how to help Tam。
Suddenly he found himself facing something scrawled on the inn door； a curving line scratched with a charred stick； a charcoal teardrop balanced on its point。 So much had happened that it hardly surprised him to find the Dragon's Fang marked on the door of the Winespring Inn。 Why anyone would want to accuse the innkeeper or his family of evil； or bring the inn bad luck； was beyond him； but the night had convinced him of one thing。 Anything was possible。 Anything at all。
At a push from the gleeman he lifted the latch； and went in。
The mon room was empty except for Bran al'Vere； and cold； too； for no one had found time to lay a fire。 The Mayor sat at one of the tables； dipping his pen in an inkwell with a frown of concentration on his face and his gray…fringed head bent over a sheet of parchment。 Nightshirt tucked hastily into his trousers and bagging around his considerable waist； he absently scratched at one bare foot with the toes of the other。 His feet were dirty； as if he had been outside more than once without bothering about boots； despite the cold。 〃What's your trouble？〃 he demanded without looking up。 〃Be quick with it。 I have two dozen things to do right this minute； and more that should have been done an hour ago。 So I have little time or patience。 Well？ Out with it！〃
〃Master al'Vere？〃 Rand said。 〃It's my father。〃
The Mayor's head jerked up。 〃Rand？ Tam！〃 He threw down the pen and knocked over his chair as he leaped up。 〃Perhaps the Light hasn't abandoned us altogether。 I was afraid you were both dead。 Bela galloped into the village an hour after the Trollocs left； lathered and blowing as if she'd run all the way from the farm； and I thought 。。。 No time for that； now。 We'll take him upstairs。〃 He seized the rear of the litter； shouldering the gleeman out of the way。 〃You go get the Wisdom； Master Merrilin。 And tell her I said hurry； or I'll know the reason why！ Rest easy； Tam。 We'll soon have you in a good； soft bed。 Go； gleeman； go！〃
Thom Merrilin vanished through the doorway before Rand could speak。 〃Nynaeve wouldn't do anything。 She said she couldn't help him。 I knew 。。。 I hoped you'd think of something。〃
Master al'Vere looked at Tam more sharply； then shook his head。 〃We will see； boy。 We will see。〃 But he no longer sounded confident。 〃Let's get him into a bed。 He can rest easy； at least。〃
Rand let himself be prodded toward the stairs at the back of the mon room。 He tried hard to keep his certainty that somehow Tam would be all right； but it had been thin to begin with； he realized； and the sudden doubt in the Mayor's voice shook him。
On the second floor of the inn； at the front； were half a dozen snug； well…appointed rooms with windows overlooking the Green。 Mostly they were used by the peddlers； or people down from Watch Hill or up from Deven Ride； but the merchants who came each year were often surprised to find such fortable rooms。 Three of them were taken now； and the Mayor hurried Rand to one of the unused ones。
Quickly the down forter and blankets were stripped back on the wide bed； and Tam was transferred to the thick feather mattress； with goose…down pillows tucked under his head。 He made no sound beyond hoarse breathing as he was moved； not even a groan； but the Mayor brushed away Rand's concern； telling him to set a fire to take the chill off the room。 While Rand dug wood and kindling from the woodbox next to the fireplace； Bran threw back the curtains on the window； letting in the morning light； then began to gently wash Tam's face。 By the time the gleeman returned； the blaze on the hearth was warming the room。
〃She will not e；〃 Thom Merrilin announced as he stalked into the room。 He glared at Rand； his bushy white brows drawing down sharply。 〃You didn't tell me she had seen him already。 She almost took my head off。〃
〃I thought 。。。 I don't know 。。。 maybe the Mayor could do something； could make her see 。。。 〃 Hands clenched in anxious fists； Rand turned from the fireplace to Bran。 〃Master al'Vere； what can I do？〃 The rotund man shook his head helplessly。 He laid a freshly dampened cloth on Tam's forehead and avoided meeting Rand's eye。 〃I can't just watch him die； Master al'Vere。 I have to do something。〃 The gleeman shifted as if to speak。 Rand rounded on him eagerly。 。〃Do you have an idea？ I'll try anything。〃
〃I was just wondering；〃 Thom said； tamping his long…stemmed pipe with his thumb； 〃if the Mayor knew who scrawled the Dragon's Fang on his door。〃 He peered into the bowl； then looked at Tam and replaced the unlit pipe between his teeth with a sigh。 〃Someone seems not to like him anymore。 Or maybe it's his guests they don't like。〃
Rand gave him a disgusted look and turned away to stare into the fire。 His thoughts danced like the flames； and like the flames they concentrated fixedly on one thing。 He would not give up。 He could not just stand there and watch Tam die。 My father； he thought fiercely。 My father。 Once the fev