Page 28 of The Gathering Storm (The Wheel of Time 12)

“I apologize for taking so long to return, Lord Dragon.” Flinn had a leathery face and only a few wisps of hair on his head. He looked a lot like some of the farmers Rand had known back in Emond’s Field, though he had been a soldier for most of his life. Flinn had come to Rand because he wanted to learn Healing. Rand had turned him into a weapon instead.

“You did as ordered,” Rand said, walking back toward the green. He wanted to blame Harine for the prejudices of an entire world, but that was not fair. He needed a better way, a way to make everyone see.

“I’ve never been exceptional at making gateways,” Flinn continued. “Not like Androl. I needed to—”

“Flinn,” Rand said, cutting in. “Enough.”

The Asha’man blushed. “I apologize, my Lord Dragon.”

To the side, Corele laughed softly, patting Flinn on the shoulder. “Don’t mind him, Damer,” she said in a lilting Murandian accent. “He’s been as surly as a winter thunderhead all morning.”

Rand glared at her, but she just smiled good-naturedly. Regardless of what the Aes Sedai thought of men who could channel in general, the ones who had taken Asha’man as Warders seemed as protective of them as mothers of their children. She had bonded one of his men, but that did not change the fact that Flinn was one of his men. An Asha’man first and foremost, a Warder second.

“What do you think, Elza?” Rand said, turning from Corele to the other Aes Sedai. “About the taint and what Harine said?”

The round-faced woman hesitated. She walked with hands behind her back, dark green dress marked only by subtle embroideries. Utilitarian, for an Aes Sedai. “If my Lord Dragon says that the taint has been cleansed,” the woman said carefully, “then it is certainly improper to express doubt of him where others can hear.”

Rand grimaced. An Aes Sedai answer for certain. Oath or no oath, Elza did as she wished.

“Oh, we were both there at Shadar Logoth,” Corele said, rolling her eyes. “We saw what you did, Rand. Besides, I can feel male power through dear Damer here when we link. It has changed. The taint is gone. Right as sunlight, it is, though channeling the male half still feels like wrestling with a summer whirlwind.”

“Yes,” Elza said, “but be that as it is, you must realize how difficult it will be for others to believe this, Lord Dragon. During the Time of Madness, it took decades for some people to accept that the male Aes Sedai were doomed to go insane. It will likely take longer for them to overcome their distrust, now that it has been ingrained for so long.”

Rand gritted his teeth. He had reached a small hill at the side of the camp, just beside the bulwark. He continued up to the top, Aes Sedai following. Here, a short wooden platform had been erected—a fire tower for launching arrows over the bulwark.

Rand stopped at the top of the hill, Maidens surrounding him. He barely noticed the soldiers who saluted him as he looked over the Saldaean camp with its neat tent lines.

Was this all he would leave to the world? A taint cleansed, yet men still killed or exiled for something they could not help? He had bound most nations to him. Yet he knew well that the tighter one tied a bale, the sharper the snap of the cords when they were cut. What would happen when he died? Wars and devastation to match the Breaking? He hadn’t been able to help that last time, for his madness and grief at Ilyena’s death had consumed him. Could he prevent something similar this time? Did he have a choice?

He was ta’veren. The Pattern bent and shaped around him. And yet, he had quickly learned one thing from being a king: the more authority you gained, the less control you had over your life. Duty was truly heavier than a mountain; it forced his hand as often as the prophecies did. Or were they both one and the same? Duty and prophecy? His nature as a ta’veren and his place in history? Could he change his life? Could he leave the world better for his passing, rather than leaving the nations scarred, torn and bleeding?

He watched the camp, men moving about their tasks, horses nosing at the ground, searching for patches of winter grass that had not already been chewed to their roots. Though Rand had ordered this army to travel light, there were still camp followers. Women to help with meals and laundry, blacksmiths and farriers to tend horses and equipment, young boys to run messages and to train on the weapons. Saldaea was a Borderland, and battle was a way of life for its people.

?

?I envy them, sometimes,” Rand whispered.

“My Lord?” Flinn asked, stepping up to him.

“The people of the camp,” Rand said. “They do as they are told, working each day under orders. Strict orders, at times. But orders or not, those people are more free than I.”

“You, Lord?” Flinn said, rubbing his leathery face with an aged finger. “You are the most powerful man alive! You’re ta’veren. Even the Pattern obeys your will, I should think!”

Rand shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way, Flinn. Those people out there, any one of them could just ride away. Escape, if they felt like it. Leave the battle to others.”

“I’ve known a few Saldaeans in my day, my Lord,” Flinn said. “Forgive me, but I have doubts that any one of them would do that.”

“But they could,” Rand said. “It’s possible. For all their laws and oaths, they are free. Me, I seem as if I can do as I wish, but I am tied so tightly the bonds cut my flesh. My power and influence are meaningless against fate. My freedom is all just an illusion, Flinn. And so I envy them. Sometimes.”

Flinn folded his hands behind his back, obviously uncertain how to respond.

We all do as we must, Moiraine’s voice from the past returned to his memory. As the Pattern decrees. For some there is less freedom than for others. It does not matter whether we choose or are chosen. What must be, must be.

She had understood. I’m trying, Moiraine, he thought. I will do what must be done.

“My Lord Dragon!” a voice called. Rand turned toward the sound and saw one of Bashere’s scouts running up the hill. The Maidens cautiously allowed the youthful, dark-haired man to approach.

“My Lord,” the scout said, saluting. “There are Aiel on the outskirts of the camp. We saw two of them prowling through the trees about half a mile down the slope.”