The Gathering Storm

above the head. They protruded like budding eyes, giving the throne an ornate richness that Rand disliked. It hadn't been in the palace. One of the local merchants had been 'protecting' it from the riots. Perhaps he had considered seizing the seat in a more figurative sense as well.

Rand sat on the throne, despite its gaudiness, shifting so that the access key in his pocket didn't jab him in the side. The powerful in the city weren't certain what to think of him, and he preferred it that way. He didn't name himself king, yet his armies secured the capital. He spoke of restoring Alsalam's place to him, yet sat on the throne as if he had a right to it. He had not moved into the palace. He wanted them to wonder.

In truth, he hadn't made a decision. A lot would depend on this day's reports. He nodded to Rhuarc as he entered; the muscular Aielman returned the gesture. Then Rand stepped down from the throne and he and Rhuarc sat down on the circular rug of spiraling colors which lay on the floor in front of the green-carpeted dais. The first time they'd done this, it had caused a quiet stir among the Domani attendants and functionaries of Rand's growing court.

'We have located and taken another of them, Rand al'Thor,' Rhuarc said. 'Alamindra Cutren was hiding on her cousin's lands near the northern border; what we learned on her estate led us directly to her.'

That made four members of the merchant council in his custody. 'What of Meashan Dubaris? You said you might have her as well.'

'Dead,' Rhuarc said. 'By the hands of a mob a week gone.'

'You are certain of this? It could be a lie to set you off her track.'

'I have not seen the body myself,' Rhuarc said, 'but men I trust have, and they say it matches her description. I am reasonably assured that the trail was genuine.'

Four captured, and two dead, then. That left four more to locate before he had enough members to order a new vote for king. It would not be the most ethical council election in Domani history; why did he bother? He could appoint a king, or name himself to the throne. Why did he care what the Domani thought proper?

Rhuarc watched him; the Aiel chief's eyes were thoughtful. He likely wondered the same things.

'Keep searching,' Rand said. 'I do not intend to take Arad Doman for myself; we will find the rightful king or we will see the Council of Merchants assembled so that they can choose a new one. I will not care who it is, so long as he is not a Darkfriend.'

'As you say, Car'a'carn,' Rhuarc said, moving to rise.

'Order is important, Rhuarc,' Rand said. 'I don't have time to secure this kingdom myself. We don't have long before the Last Battle.' He glanced at Nynaeve, who had joined several Maidens at the back of the small room. 'I want four more members of the merchant council in our possession by the end of the month.'

'You set a demanding pace, Rand al'Thor,' Rhuarc said.

Rand stood up. 'Just find me those merchants. These people deserve leaders.'

'And the king?'

Rand glanced to the side, to where Milisair Chadmar stood, carefully watched by Aiel guards. She seemed . . . haggard. Her once-luxurious raven hair had been pulled up into a bun, obviously because it was easier to care for that way. Her dress was still rich, but now wrinkled, as if she'd been wearing it for too long. Her eyes were red. She was still beautiful, but much in the way that a painting would still be beautiful if it were crumpled up, then smoothed out on a table.

'May you find water and shade, Rhuarc,' Rand said in dismissal.

'May you find water and shade, Rand al'Thor.' The tall Aiel withdrew, some of his spears following him. Rand took a deep breath, then stepped up to the gaudy throne and sat. Rhuarc he treated with the respect he deserved. The others . . . well, they would get the respect they deserved as well.

He leaned forward, motioning Milisair to approach. One of the Maidens nudged her in the back, forcing her forward. The woman looked far more apprehensive than she had the last time she had come before Rand.

'Well?' he asked her.

'My Lord Dragon . . .' she began, glancing around, as if seeking aid from the Domani stewards and attendants who stood there. They ignored her; even the fop Lord Ramshalan looked the other way.

'Speak, woman,' Rand demanded.

'The messenger you asked after,' she said. 'He is dead.'

Rand took in a deep breath. 'And how did this happen?'

'The men I assigned to watch after him,' she said quickly, 'I hadn't realized how poorly they were treating the messenger! Why, they hadn't given him water for days, and the fevers struck. ...'

'In other words,' Rand said, 'you failed to extract information from him, so you left him in a dungeon to rot, only remembering where he was when I demanded he be produced.'

'Car'a'carn,' one of the Maidens—a very young woman named Jalani—said, stepping forward. 'We found this one packing her things, as if she were planning to escape the city.'

Milisair paled visibly. 'Lord Dragon,' she said. 'A moment of weakness! I—'

Rand waved for silence. 'What am I to do with you now?'

'She should be executed, my Lord!' Ramshalan said, stepping forward eagerly.

Rand looked up with a frown. He hadn't been asking for a response. Lanky, with one of the thin black Domani mustaches, Ramshalan had a prominent nose that might have indicated some Saldaean forebear. He wore an outrageous coat of blue, orange and yellow, with ruffled white cuffs peeking out underneath. Apparently, such things passed for fashionable among some segments of the Domani upper crust. His earrings bore the mark of his house, and he had a black beauty mark in the shape of a bird in flight affixed to his check.

Rand had known many like him, courtiers with too few brains but too many family connections. Noble life seemed to breed them, much as the Two Rivers bred sheep. Ramshalan was particularly annoying because of his nasal voice and eager willingness to betray others in his desire to curry favor with Rand.

Still, men like him had their uses. Occasionally. 'What do you think, Milisair?' Rand said musingly. 'Should I have you executed for treason, as this man suggests?'

She did not weep, but she was obviously terrified, her hands shaking as she held them out, her eyes wide, unblinking.

'No,' Rand said finally. 'I need you to help choose a new king. What good would it do to search the countryside for your colleagues if I began to execute the Council members I've already found?'

She let out the breath she had been holding, and tension left her shoulders

'Lock her in the same dungeon where she imprisoned the King's messenger,' Rand said to the Maidens. 'Make sure she doesn't suffer the same fate—at least, not until after I'm finished with her.'

Milisair cried out in despair. Aiel Maidens pulled her from the room screaming, but Rand had already put her from his head. Ramshalan watched her go with satisfaction; apparently, she'd insulted him several times in public. That was one point in her favor.

'The other members of the merchant council,' Rand said to the functionaries. 'Have any of them had contact with the King?'

'None more recently than four or five months ago, my Lord,' said one of them, a stumpy, large-bellied Domani man named Noreladim. 'Though we don't know about Alamindra, as she was just recently . . . discovered.'

Perhaps she would have news, though he couldn't see her having a better lead than a messenger who claimed to have come from Alsalam himself. Burn that woman for letting him die!

If Graendal sent the messenger, Lews Therin said suddenly, I'd have never been able to break him. She's too good with Compulsion. Crafty, so crafty.

Rand hesitated. It was a good point. If the messenger had been subject to Graendal's Compulsion, there would have been little chance of him being able to betray her location. Not unless the web of Compulsion had been lifted, which would have required a Healing beyond Rand's skill. Graendal had always covered her tracks well.

But he wasn't sure she was in the country. If he could find a messenger and Compulsion was there, he'd have enough. 'I need to speak with anyone else who claims to have a message from the King,' he said. 'Others in the city who might have had contact.'

'They will be found, Lord Dragon,' said the prim Ramshalan.

Rand nodded absently. If Naeff set up the meeting with the Seanchan as hoped, then Rand could leave Arad Doman soon after. He hoped to leave them with a king, hoped to find and kill Graendal. But he would settle for