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ppers。 Cold filled the camp； too； the cold of night in the Waste。 It was as if the sun had taken all the heat with it。 Mat had never expected he would wish for a stout cloak when he packed to leave the Stone。 Maybe the peddlers had one。 Maybe Natael would dice for his。
He ate at Rhuarc's fire with Heirn and Rand。 And Aviendha； of course。 The peddlers were there； and Natael close by Keille； and Isendre all but wrapped around Kadere。 It might be harder separating Isendre from the hook…nosed man than he had hoped … or easier。 Twined around the fellow or not； she had smoky eyes for Rand and no one else。 You would have thought she already had his ears clipped； a sheep marked for its owner's flock。 Neither Rand nor Kadere seemed to notice； the peddler hardly took his eyes off Rand。 Aviendha noticed； and glared at Rand。 At least the fire gave off some warmth。
When the roast goat was finished … and some sort of flecked yellow mush that was spicier than it looked … Rhuarc and Heirn filled short…stemmed pipes； and the clan chief asked Natael for a song。
The gleeman blinked。 〃Why； of course。 Of course。 Let me bring a harp。〃 His cloak billowed on the dry； cold breeze as he vanished toward Keille's wagon。
The fellow certainly was different from Thom Merrilin。 Thom hardly got out of bed without flute or harp or both。 Mat thumbed his silver…worked pipe full of tabac； and was puffing contentedly by the time Natael returned and struck a pose suitable for a king。 That was like Thom。 With a strummed cord； the gleeman began。
〃Soft； the winds； like springtime's fingers。
Soft； the rains； like heaven's tears。
Soft； the years roll by in gladness；
never hinting storms to e；
never hinting whirlwinds' ravage；
rain of steel and battle thunder；
war to tear the heart asunder。〃
It was 〃Midean's Ford。〃 An old song； of Manetheren； oddly enough； and war before the Trolloc Wars。 Natael did a fair job of it； nothing like Thom's sonorous recitals； of course； but the rolling words drew a crowd of Aiel thick around the edge of the fire's light。 Villainous Aedomon led the Saferi down on unsuspecting Manetheren； pillaging and burning； driving all before them until King Buiryn gathered Manetheren's strength； and the men of Manetheren met the Saferi at Midean's Ford； holding； though heavily outnumbered； through three days of unrelenting battle； while the river ran red and vultures blacked the sky。 On the third day； numbers dwindling； hope fading； Buiryn and his men fought their way across the ford in a desperate sortie； driving deep into Aedomon's horde； seeking to turn the enemy back by killing Aedomon himself。 But forces too great to overpower swept in around them； trapping them； driving them ever in on themselves。 Surrounding their king and the Red Eagle banner； they fought on； refusing surrender even when their doom became clear。
Natael sang how their courage touched even Aedomon's heart； and how at last he allowed the remnant to go free； turning his army back to Safer in honor of them。
〃Back across the blood…red water；
marching back with heads held high。
No surrender； arm or sword；
no surrender； heart or soul。
Honor be theirs； ever after；
honor all the Age shall know。〃
He plucked the final chord； and the Aiel whistled their approval； drumming spears on their hide bucklers； some raising ululating cries。
It had not been that way； of course。 Mat could remember … Light； I don't want to！ But it came anyway … he remembered counseling Buiryn not to accept the offer； being told in return that the smallest chance was better than none。 Aedomon； glossy black beard hanging below the steel mesh that veiled his face； drew his spearmen back； waited until they were strung out and nearly to the ford before the hidden archers rose and the cavalry charged in。 As for turning back to Safer。。。。 Mat did not think so。 His last memory at the ford was trying to keep his feet； waist…deep in the river with three arrows in him； but there was something later； a fragment。 Seeing Aedomon； gray…bearded now； go down in a sharp fight in a forest； toppling from his rearing horse； the spear in his back put there by an unarmored； beardless boy。 This was worse than the holes had been。
〃You did not like the song？〃 Natael said。
It took Mat a moment to realize the man was speaking to Rand； not him。 Rand rubbed his hands together； peering into the small fire； before answering。 〃I'm not certain how wise it is； depending on an enemy's generosity。 What do you think； Kadere？〃
The peddler hesitated； glancing at the woman clinging to his arm。 〃I do not think of such things；〃 he said at last。 〃I think of profits； not battles。〃 Keille laughed coarsely。 At least； until she saw Isendre's smile； condescending to a woman who could make three of her； then her dark eyes glittered dangerously behind those rolls of fat。
Suddenly warning cries rose in the dark beyond the tents。 Aiel snatched veils across their faces； and a moment later Trollocs poured in out of the night； snouted faces and horned heads； towering over the humans； howling and swinging scythe…curved swords； stabbing with hooked spears and barbed tridents； hacking with spiked axes。 Myrddraal flowed with them； like deadly eyeless snakes。 A heartbeat it took； but the Aiel fought as if they had had an hour's warning； meeting the charge with their own flickering spears。
Mat was vaguely aware of Rand with that fiery sword suddenly in hand； but then he was sucked into the maelstrom himself； wielding his spear as spear and quarterstaff both； slash and thrust； haft whirling。 For once he was glad of those dream memories； the way of this weapon seemed familiar； and he needed every scrap of skill he could find。 It was all chaotic madness。
Trollocs rose up in front of him and went down to his spear； or an Aiel spear； or spun away into the confusion of shouts and howls and clanging steel。 Myrddraal faced him； black blades meeting his raven…marked steel with flashes of blue light like sheet lightning； faced him and were gone in the tumult。 Twice a short spear streaking by his head took Trollocs about to run him through the back。 He thrust the short…sword blade into a Myrddraal's chest and knew he was going to die when it did not fall； but grinned with those bloodless lips； eyeless stare shivering fear into his bones； and drew back its black sword。 An instant later the Halfman jerked as Aiel arrows pincushioned it； jerked for the moment Mat needed to leap back from the thing as it fell still trying to stab at him； stab at anything。
A dozen times the spear's iron…hard black haft barely deflected a Trolloc thrust。 It was Aes Sedai work； and he was glad of it。 The silver foxhead on his chest seemed to pulse with cold as if to remind him that it； too； bore the mark of Aes Sedai。 Right then； he did not care； if it took Aes Sedai work to keep him alive； he was ready to follow Moiraine like a puppy。
He could not have said if it went on for minutes or hours； but suddenly there was not a Myrddraal or Trolloc still standing in sight； though cries and howls from the darkness spoke of pursuit。 Dead and dying littered the ground； Aiel and Shadowspawn； the Halfmen still thrashing。 Groans filled the air with pain。 Suddenly he realized his muscles felt like water； and his lungs were afire。 Panting； he slid down to his knees； leaning on his spear。 Flames made bonfires of three of the peddlers' canvas…topped wagons； one with a driver pinned to the side by a Trolloc spear； and some of the tents were burning。 Shouts from the direction of the Shaido camp； and glows too large for campfires； said they had been attacked； too。
Fiery sword still in hand； Rand came to where Mat knelt。 〃Are you all right？〃 Aviendha shadowed him。 Somewhere she had found a spear and buckler； had tucked up a corner of her shawl to veil her face。 Even in skirts she looked deadly。
〃Oh； I am fine；〃 Mat muttered； struggling to his feet。 〃Nothing like a little dance with Trollocs to ready you for sleep。 Right； Aviendha？〃 Uncovering her face； she gave him a tight smile。 The woman had probably enjoyed it。 He was sweat all over； he thought it might freeze on him。
Moiraine and Egwene had appeared with two of the Wise Ones； Amys and Bair； circulating among the wounded。 The convulsion of Healing followed the Aes Sedai； though sometimes she merely shook her head and moved on。
Rhuarc strode up with a grim face。
〃Bad news？〃 Rand said quietly。
The clan chief grunted。 〃Aside from Trollocs here where they should not be； not by two hundred leagues or more？ Perhaps。 Some fifty Trollocs attacked the Wise Ones' camp。 Enough to overwhelm it； had it not been for Moiraine Sedai and luck。 However； it seems the Shaido were hit by fewer than struck us； though since they are the larger camp the reverse should have been true。 I might almost think they were attacked only to keep them from ing to our aid。 Not that that would be certain； with Shaido； but Trollocs and Nightrunners might not know that。〃
〃And if they knew an Aes Sedai was with the Wise Ones；〃 Rand said； 〃that attack could have been meant to keep her away； too。 I bring enemies with me； Rhuarc。 Remember that。 Wherever I am； my enemies are never far。〃
Isendre poked her head out of the lead wagon。 A moment later Kadere climbed down past her； and she ducked back inside； shutting the white…painted door behind him。 He stood looking around at the carnage； the light of his burning wagons painting rippling shadows across his face。 The group around Mat held his attention most。 The wagons seemed to interest him not at all。 Natael got down from Keille's wagon； too； speaking up the stairs to her still inside； his eyes on Mat and the others。
〃Fools；〃 Mat muttered； half to himself。 〃Hiding inside the wagons； as if that would make any difference to a Trolloc。 They could all have roasted alive； easy as not。〃
〃They are still alive；〃 Rand said； and Mat realized he had seen them； too。 〃That is always important； Mat； who stays alive。 It's like dice。 You can't win if you can't play； and you can't play if you are dead。 Who can say what game the peddlers play？〃 He laughed quietly； and the fiery sword vanished from his hands。
〃I am going to get some sleep；〃 Mat said； already turning away。 〃Wake me if the Trollocs show up again。 Or better； let them kill me in my blankets。 I am too tired to wake up again。〃 Rand was definitely going over the edge。 Maybe tonight would convince Keille and Kadere to turn back。 If they did； he intended to be with them。
Rand let Moiraine look at him； muttering to herself； though he had taken no wound。 With so many who had； she could not spare the strength to wash away his fatigue with the One Power。
〃This was aimed at you；〃 she told him； surrounded by the moans of the injured。 The Trollocs were being dragged away into the night； by packhorses and the peddlers' mules。 The Aiel apparently intended to leave the Myrddraal where they lay until they stopped moving； to make sure they were really dead。 The wind gusted up； like ice with no moisture in it。
〃Was it？〃 he said。 Her eyes glittered in the firelight before she turned back to the wounded。
Egwene came to him； too； but only to say in a low； fierce whisper； 〃Whatever you are doing to upset her； stop it！〃 The glance she shot past him at Aviendha left no doubt who she meant； and she went off to help Bair and Amys before he could say he had done nothing。 She looked ridiculous with those two braids twined with ribbons。 The Aiel seemed to think so； too； some of them grinned at her back。
Stumbling； shivering； he sought his tent。 He had never been this tired before。 The sword had almost not e。 He hoped that was the tiredness。 Sometimes there was nothing there when he reached for the Source； and sometimes the Power would not do what he wanted； but almost from the first the sword had e practically without thought。 Now of all times。。。 It had to be the tiredness。
Aviendha insisted on following him as far as the tent； and when he woke the next morning she was sitting outside cross…leg