The sun was sinking toward the horizon, but it would probably be a long night for many of them, tending the wounded. Thousands had been wounded, though most wounds fortunately were not bad. They'd lost some people. Too many, maybe as many as had fallen to the snake bites.
Perrin grunted. Gaul himself had his arm in a sling; he'd fended off his spears, only to have one of his arrows nearly kill him. He'd blocked it with his forearm. When Perrin had asked, he'd laughed and said that it had been years since he'd shot himself with his own arrow. Aiel humor.
"Have we heard back from the Whitecloaks?" Perrin asked, turning to Aravine, who walked on his other side.
"Yes," she said. "But nothing specific. Their commander said he'd think' about giving us more time."
"Well, he's not the one who will decide," Perrin said, going into the Mayener section of camp to check on Berelain's people. "I'm not going to risk a battle with a quarter of my men wounded and my Asha'man dead tired from Healing. We go to this trial when I say so, and if Damodred disagrees, he can just go ahead and attack us."
Gaul grunted his agreement. He wore his spears, but Perrin noticed
they were strapped more tightly in place than usual. Aravine carried a lantern, though they hadn't needed to light it yet. She was anticipating a late night as well.
"Let me know when Tam and Elyas get back," Perrin said to Gaul. Perrin had sent each one separately to visit nearby villages and make certain the people there the ones who hadn't joined a passing army hadn't suffered from the bubble of evil.
Berelain had composed herself, her hand bandaged. She gave the report to him herself, from her tent, saying how many of her soldiers had been wounded, giving the names of the men they'd lost. Only six from her camp.
Perrin yawned as he left the tent, sending Aravine to check on the Aes Sedai. Gaul had run off to help with carrying some of the wounded, and Perrin found himself alone as he walked down the path towatd Alliandre's section of camp.
His hammer hadn't tried to kill him. So far as he knew, it was the only weapon on anyone's person that hadn't responded to the bubble of evil. What did it mean?
He shook his head, then hesitated, pausing in thought as he heard someone jogging along the path toward him. He caught Tarn's scent, and turned to meet the sturdy man as he arrived.
"Perrin, son," Tam said, out of breath from running. "Something unusual just happened."
"The bubble of evil hit the village?" Perrin asked, alarmed. "Were people hurt?"
"Oh, no," Tam said. "Not that. The village was fine. They didn't even notice anything was wrong. This is something else." Tam smelled odd. Thoughtful, worried.
Perrin frowned. "What? What's happening?"
"I . . . well, I have to go, son," Tam said. "Leave the camp. I don't know when I'll be back."
"Is this "
"It has nothing to do with the Whitecloaks," Tam said. "I've been told I can't say much. But it's about Rand."
The colors swirled. Rand walked the hallways of the Stone of Tear. His expression was dark. Dangerous.
"Perrin," Tam said, "I think this is something I need to do. It involves Aes Sedai, and I have to le
ave you now. I can't say anything else. They made me swear it."
Perrin looked into Tarn's eyes and saw the sincerity there. He nodded.
"All right, then. You need any help? Someone to go with you, wherever you're going?"
"I'll be all right," Tam said. He smelled embarrassed. What was going on? "I'll try to get you some help, son." He laid a hand on Perrin's shoulder. "You've done well here. I'm proud of you, and your father would be too. Keep it up. I'll see you at the Last Battle, if not before."
Perrin nodded. Tam hurried off toward his tent, perhaps to pack.
It was hard to look regal while being carried atop the Caemlyn city wall on a litter, but Elayne did her best. Sometimes getting what you wanted was more important than looking regal.
Bed rest! For a queen! Well, in order to keep Melfane from hovering over her, she'd given an oath that she would stay off her feet. But she'd said nothing about staying in her bedroom.
Four Guardsmen carried the litter high on their shoulders. Elayne sat safely between armrests, wearing a crimson gown, hair carefully brushed, the Rose Crown of Andor atop her head.
The day was muggy, the weather turning warm, the sky nil dark with clouds. She spared a moment to feel guilty for making the poor men, in dress uniform, carry her through this early-summer heat. But these men would ride to battle in her name; they could stand a little warm weather. How often did Guardsmen get the honor of carrying their queen, anyway?