He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Padra, but I did not spend much time with him. My path led me elsewhere. I . . . heard things, from my father, though."
She cocked her head.
Ronam turned and looked out the open tent flaps, toward the gteen grass beyond. "My father called Rand al'Thor a clever man and great leader, but one who did not know what to do with the Aiel. I temember him saying that when the Car'a'carn was among us, he did not feel like one of us. As if we made him uncomfortable." Ronam shook his head. "Everyone else was planned for, but the Aiel were left adrift."
"Some say we should have returned to the Three-fold Land," she said.
"No," Ronam said. "No, that would have destroyed us. Our fathers knew nothing of steamhorses or dragon tubes. Were the Aiel to return to the Waste, we would have become irrelevant. The world would pass us by, and we would vanish as a people."
"But war?" Padra said. "Is it right?"
"I do not know," Ronam said softly. "We are Aiel. It is what we know how to do."
Padra nodded, feeling more certain.
The Aiel would ride to war again. And there would be much honor in it.
Aviendha blinked. The sky was dark.
She was exhausted. Her mind was drained, her heart opened as if bleeding out strength with every beat. She sat down in the midst of the dimming columns. Her . . . children. She remembered their faces from her first visit to Rhuidean. She had not seen this. Not that she remembered, at least.
"Is it destined?" she asked. "Can we change it?" There was no answer, of course.
Her tears were dry. How did one react to seeing the utter destruction no, the utter decay of one's people? Each step had seemed logical to the people who took it. But each had taken the Aiel toward their end.
Should anyone have to see such terrible visions? She wished she'd never stepped back into the forest of pillars. Was she to blame for what was to happen? It was her line that would doom her people.
This was not like the events she had seen when passing into the rings during her first visit to Rhuidean. Those had been possibilities. This day's visions seemed more real. She felt almost certain that what she had experienced was not simply one of many possibilities. What she had seen would occur. Step by step, honor drained from her people. Step by step, the Aiel turned from proud to wretched.
There had to be more. Angry, she stood up and took another step. Nothing happened. She walked all the way to the edge of the pillars, then turned, furious.
"Show me more," she demanded. "Show me what I did to cause this! It is my lineage that brought us ruin! What is my part in it?" She walked into the pillars again.
Nothing. They seemed dead. She reached out and touched one, but there was no life. No hum, no sense of Power. She closed her eyes, squeezing one more tear from the corner of each eye. The tears trailed down her face, leaving a line of cold wetness on her cheeks.
"Can I change it?" she asked.
If I can't, she thought, will that stop me from trying?
The answet was simple. No. She could not live without doing something to avert that fate. She had come to Rhuidean seeking knowledge. Well, she had received it. In more abundance than she had wanted.
She opened her eyes and gritted het teeth. Aiel took responsibility. Aiel fought. Aiel stood for honor. If she was the only one who knew the terrors of their future, then it was her duty as a Wise One to act. She would save her people.
She walked from the pillars, then broke into a run. She needed to return, to consult with the other Wise Ones. But first she needed quiet, out in the Three-fold Land. Time to think.
CHAPTER 50
Choosing Enemies
Elayne sat anxiously, hands in her lap, listening to the distant booms. She'd intentionally chosen the throne room, rather than a less formal audience chamber. Today, she needed to be seen as a queen.
The throne room was imposing, with its majestic pillars and lavish ornamentation. Golden stand-lamps burned in a long double row on either side of the room, breaking only for the pillars. Guardsmen in white and red stood in front of them, burnished breastplates gleaming. The marble columns were matched by the thick crimson rug, woven with the Lion of Andor in gold at its center. It led toward Elayne, wearing the Rose Crown. Her gown was after a traditional fashion rather than those favored in court right now; the sleeves were wide, with the cuffs designed to droop down to a gold-embroidered point beneath her hand.
That pattern was echoed by the bodice, which was high enough to be modest, but low enough to remind all that Elayne was a woman. One still unmarried. Her mother had married a man from Cairhien early in her reign. Others might wonder if Elayne would do the same to cement her hold there.
Another distant boom sounded. The noise of the dragons firing was growing familiar. Not quite a clap of thunder lower, more regular.
Elayne had been taught to conceal her nervousness. First by her tutors, and then by the Aes Sedai. Whatever some people thought, Elayne Trakand could control her temper when she needed to. She kept her hands in her lap and forced her tongue to be still. Showing nervousness would be far worse than anger.