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o sea； toward the mainland hundreds of miles to the east。
To be the one who successfully led the Forerunners； who began the Return； would bring much honor。 Perhaps even adoption into the family of the Empress； though that was an honor not without plications。 To also be the one who captured this Dragon； whether false or real； along with the means of controlling his incredible power。。。。
But if…when I take him； do I give him to the Empress？ That is the question。
Her long nails began to click again on the wide stone rail。
Chapter 2
（Dragon）
Whirlpools in the Pattern
Inland the hot night wind blew； north across the vast delta called the Fingers of the Dragon； a winding maze of waterways broad and narrow； some choked with knifegrass。 Vast plains of reeds separated clusters of low islands forested with spider…rooted trees seen nowhere else。 Eventually the delta gave way to its source； the River Erinin； the river's great width spotted with the lights of small boats lantern…fishing。 Boats and lights bobbed wildly； sudden and unexpected； and some older men muttered of evil things passing in the night。 Young men laughed； but they hauled the nets more vigorously； too； eager to be home and out of the dark。 The stories said evil could not cross your threshold unless you invited it in。 That was what the stories said。 But out in the darkness。。。。
The last tang of salt had vanished by the time the wind reached the great city of Tear； hard by the river； where tile…roofed inns and shops shouldered against tall； towered palaces gleaming in the moonlight。 Yet no place was half so tall as the massive bulk； almost a mountain； that stretched from city's heart to water's edge。 The Stone of Tear； fortress of legend； the oldest stronghold of mankind； erected in the last days of the Breaking of the World。 While nations and empires rose and fell； were replaced and fell anew； the Stone stood。 It was the rock on which armies had broken spears and swords and hearts for three thousand years。 And in all that time it had never fallen to invading arms。 Until now。
The streets of the city； the taverns and inns； were all but empty in the muggy darkness； people keeping cautiously within their own walls。 Who held the Stone was lord of Tear； city and nation。 That was the way it had always been； and the people of Tear accepted it always。 By daylight they would cheer their new lord with enthusiasm as they had cheered the old； by night they huddled together； shivering despite the heat when the wind howled across their rooftops like a thousand keening mourners。 Strange new hopes danced in their heads； hopes none in Tear had dared for a hundred generations； hopes mixed with fears as old as the Breaking。
The wind lashed the long； white banner catching the moon above the Stone as if trying to rip it away。 Along its length marched a sinuous figure like a legged serpent； golden…maned like a lion； scaled in scarlet and gold； seeming to ride the wind。 Banner of prophecy； hoped for and dreaded。 Banner of the Dragon。 The Dragon Reborn。 Harbinger of the world's salvation； and herald of a new Breaking to e。 As if outraged at such defiance； the wind dashed itself against the hard walls of the Stone。 The Dragon banner floated； unheeding in the night； awaiting greater storms。
In a room more than halfway up the Stone's southern face； Perrin sat on the chest at the foot of his canopied bed and watched the dark…haired young woman pacing up and down。 There was a trace of wariness in his golden eyes。 Usually Faile bantered with him； maybe poked a little gentle fun at his deliberate ways； tonight she had not said ten words since ing through the door。 He could smell the rose petals that had been folded into her clothes after cleaning； and the scent that was just her。 And in the hint of clean perspiration； he smelled nervousness。 Faile almost never showed nerves。 Wondering why she did now set an itch between his shoulders that had nothing to do with the night's heat。 Her narrow； divided skirts made a soft whisk…whisk…whisk with her strides。
He scratched his two…week growth of beard irritably。 It was even curlier than the hair on his head。 It was also hot。 For the hundredth time he thought of shaving。
〃It suits you；〃 Faile said suddenly； stopping in her tracks。
Unfortably； he shrugged shoulders heavy from long hours working at a forge。 She did that sometimes； seemed to know what he was thinking。 〃It itches；〃 he muttered； and wished he had spoken more forcefully。 It was his beard； he could shave it off any time he wanted。
She studied him； her head tilted to one side。 Her bold nose and high cheekbones made it seem a fierce study； a contrast to the soft voice in which she said； 〃It looks right on you。〃
Perrin sighed； and shrugged again。 She had not asked him to keep the beard； and she would not。 Yet he knew he was going to put off shaving again。 He wondered how his friend Mat would handle this situation。 Probably with a pinch and a kiss and some remark that made her laugh until he brought her around to his way of thinking。 But Perrin knew he did not have Mat's way with the girls。 Mat would never find himself sweating behind a beard just because a woman thought he should have hair on his face。 Unless； maybe； the woman was Faile。 Perrin suspected that her father must deeply regret her leaving home； and not just because she was his daughter。 He was the biggest fur trader in Saldaea； so she claimed； and Perrin could see her getting the price she wanted every time。
〃Something is troubling you； Faile； and it isn't my beard。 What is it？〃
Her expression became guarded。 She looked everywhere but at him； making a contemptuous survey of the room's furnishings。
Carvings of leopards and lions； stooping hawks and hunting scenes decorated everything from the tall wardrobe and bedposts as thick as his leg to the padded bench in front of the cold marble fireplace。 Some of the animals had garnet eyes。
He had tried to convince the majhere that he wanted a simple room； but she did not seem to understand。 Not that she was stupid or slow。 The majhere manded an army of servants greater in numbers than the Defenders of the Stone； whoever manded the Stone； whoever held its walls； she saw to the day…to…day matters that let everything function。 But she looked at the world through Tairen eyes。 Despite his clothes； he must be more than the young countryman he seemed； because moners were never housed in the Stone … save for Defenders and servants； of course。 Beyond that； he was one of Rand's party； a friend or a follower or in any case close to the Dragon Reborn in some way。 To the majhere； that set him on a level with a Lord of the Land at the very least； if not a High Lord。 She had been scandalized enough at putting him in here； without even a sitting room； he thought she might have fainted if he had insisted on an even plainer chamber。 If there were such things short of the servants' quarters； or the Defenders'。 At least nothing here was gilded except the candlesticks。
Faile's opinions； though； were not his。 〃You should have better than this。 You deserve it。 You can wager your last copper that