The Gathering Storm

Aviendha settled back down, releasing her knife. Now she was letting wetlanders sneak up on her? 'I am well,' she said, struggling to keep from blushing.

Her tone and actions should have indicated that she didn't wish to be shamed by conversation, but Min didn't seem to notice that. The woman turned and looked out over the camp. 'Don't . . . you have anything to be doing?'

Aviendha could not suppress the blush this time. 'I am doing what I should.'

Min nodded, and Aviendha forced herself to still her breathing. She could not afford to grow angry at this woman. Her first-sister had asked her to be kind to Min. She decided not to take offense. Min didn't know what she was saying.

'I thought that I could talk to you,' Min said, still looking out at the camp. 'I'm not sure who else I could approach. I don't trust the Aes Sedai, and neither does he. I'm not sure he trusts anyone, now. Maybe not even me.'

Aviendha glanced to the side, and saw that Min was watching Rand al'Thor as he moved through the camp, wearing a coat of black, gold-red hair ablaze in the afternoon light. He seemed to tower over the Saldaeans who attended him.

Aviendha had heard about the events the night before, when he had been attacked by Semirhage. One of the Shadowsouled themselves; Aviendha wished she had seen the creature before she was killed. She shuddered.

Rand al'Thor had fought and won. Though he acted the fool much of the time, he was a skilled—and lucky— warrior. Who else alive could claim to have personally defeated as many of the Shadowsouled as he had? There was much honor in him.

His fight had left him scarred in ways she did not yet understand. She could feel his pain. She'd felt it during Semirhage's attack, too, though at first she'd mistakenly thought it to be a nightmare. She'd quickly realized that she was wrong. No nightmare could be that terrible. She could still feel echoes of that incredible pain, those waves of agony, the frenzy inside of him.

Aviendha had raised the alarm, but not quickly enough. She had toh to him for her mistake; she would deal with that once she was finished with her punishments. If she ever did finish,

'Rand al'Thor will deal with his problems,' she said, dripping more water.

'How can you say that?' Min asked, glancing at her. 'Can't you feel his pain?'

'I feel each and every moment of it,' Aviendha said through gritted teeth. 'But he must face his own trials, just as I face mine. Perhaps there will be a day when he and I can face ours together, but that time is not now.'

/ must be his equal, first, she added in her head. / will not stand beside him as his inferior.

Min studied her, and Aviendha felt a chill, wondering what visions the woman saw. Her predictions of the future were said always to come true.

'You are not what I expected,' Min finally said.

'I have deceived you?' Aviendha said, frowning.

'No, not that,' Min said with a small laugh. 'I mean, I was wrong about you, I guess. I wasn't certain what to think, after that night in Caem-lyn when . . . well, that night when we bonded Rand together. I feel close to you, yet distant from you at the same time.' She shrugged. 'I guess I expected you to come looking for me the moment you got into camp. We had things to discuss. When you didn't, I worried. I thought perhaps I had offended you.'

'You have no toh to me,' Aviendha said.

'Good,' Min said. 'I still worry sometimes that we'll . . . come to a confrontation.'

'And what good would a confrontation serve?'

'I don't know,' Min said with a shrug. 'I figured it would be the Aiel way. Challenge me to a fight of honor. For him.'

Aviendha snorted. 'Fight over a man? Who would do such a thing? If you had toh toward me, perhaps I could demand that we dance the spears—but only if you were a Maiden. And only if I were still one too. I suppose that we could fight with knives, but it would hardly be a fair fight. What honor would there to be gained in fighting one with no skill?'

Min flushed, as if Aviendha had offered her an insult. What a curious reaction. 'I don't know about that,' Min said, flipping a knife from her sleeve and spinning it across her knuckles. 'I'm hardly defenseless.' She made the knife vanish up her other sleeve. Why was it that the wetlanders always showed off such flourishes with their knives? Thorn Merrilin had been prone to that as well. Didn't Min understand that Aviendha could have slit the woman's throat thrice over during the time it took to flash that knife like a street performer? Aviendha said nothing, however. Min was obviously proud of the skill, and there was no need to embarrass the woman.

'It is unimportant,' Aviendha said, continuing her work. 'I would not fight with you unless you gave me grave insult. My first-sister considers you a friend, and I would like to do so as well.'

'All right,' Min said, folding her arms and looking back at Rand. 'Well, I guess that's a good thing. I have to admit, I don't much like the idea of sharing.'

Aviendha hesitated, then dipped her finger into the pail. 'Neither do I.' At least, she didn't like the idea of sharing with a woman she didn't know very well.

'Then what do we do?'

'We continue as we have,' Aviendha said. 'You have what you wish, and I am occupied by other matters. When it becomes a different time, I will inform you.'

'That's . . . straightforward of you,' Min said, looking confused. 'You have other matters to occupy you? Like dipping your finger in buckets of water?'

Aviendha blushed again. 'Yes,' she snapped. 'Just like that. You will excuse me.' She stood and strode away, leaving the buckets. She knew that she should not have lost her temper, but she could not help it. Min, repeatedly pointing out her punishment. Her inability to decipher what the Wise Ones wished of her. Rand al'Thor, constantly putting himself into danger, and Aviendha unable to lift a finger to help him.

She could stand it no longer. She crossed the brown thatch of the manor green, clenching and unclenching her fists, keeping her distance from Rand. The way this day was going, he'd notice her wrinkled finger and ask why she had been soaking it! If he discovered that the Wise Ones had been punishing her, he would probably do something rash and make a fool of himself. Men were like that, Rand al'Thor most of all.

She stalked across the springy ground, the brown thatch patterned with square impressions where tents had stood, threading her way through wetlanders scurrying this way and that. She passed a line of soldiers tossing sacks of grain to the next and loading them in a wagon hitched to two thick-hoofed draft horses.

She kept moving, trying to keep herself from exploding. The truth was, she felt just as likely to do something 'rash' as Rand al'Thor would be. Why? Why couldn't she decipher what she was doing wrong? The other Aiel in the camp seemed as ignorant as she, though of course they had not spoken to her of the punishments. She remembered well seeing similar punishments when she'd been a Maiden, and had always known to stay out of Wise One business.

She rounded the wagon, and found herself heading toward Rand al'Thor again. He was talking with three of Davram Bashere's quartermasters, taller than each of them by a head. One of them, a man with a long black mustache, pointed toward the horselines and said something. Rand caught sight of Aviendha and raised his hand toward her, but she turned away quickly, moving toward the Aiel campsite at the north side of the green.

She ground her teeth, trying—unsuccessfully—to tame her anger. Did she not have a right to anger, if only at herself? The world was close to ending and she spent her days being punished! Ahead, she spotted a small cluster of Wise Ones—Amys, Bair and Melaine—standing beside a pile of brown tent packs. The tight, oblong bundles had straps for ease of carrying over the shoulder.

Aviendha should have returned to her pails and redoubled her efforts. But she did not. Like a child with a stick charging a narshcat, she stalked up to the Wise Ones, fuming.

'Aviendha?' Bair asked. 'Have you finished your punishment already?'

'No I have not,' Aviendha said, stopping in front of them, hands fists at her sides. Wind tugged at her shirt, but she let it flap. Hurrying camp workers—both Aiel and Saldaean—gave the group a wide berth.

'Well?' Bair asked.