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Rand leaned back again； hesitating。 〃You cannot have him； Lord Bashere。〃
〃May I ask why not； my Lord Dragon？ If you wish to use Aiel to hunt him； I have no objection。 My men will remain in Braem Wood until I return。〃
This part of his plan he had not meant to reveal so soon。 Delay could be costly； but he had intended to have a firm hold on the nations first。 Yet it might as well begin now。 〃I am announcing an amnesty。 I can channel； Lord Bashere。 Why should another man be hunted down and killed or gentled because he can do what I can？ I will announce that any man who can touch the True Source； any man who wants to learn； can e to me and have my protection。 The Last Battle is ing； Lord Bashere。 There may not be time for any of us to go mad before； and I would not waste one man for the risk anyway。 When the Trollocs came out of the Blight in the Trolloc Wars； they marched with Dreadlords； men and women who wielded the Power for the Shadow。 We will face that again at Tarmon Gai'don。 I don't know how many Aes Sedai will be at my side； but I won't turn away any man who channels if he will march with me。 Mazrim Taim is mine； Lord Bashere； not yours。〃
〃I see。〃 It was flatly said。 〃You have taken Caemlyn。 I hear that Tear is yours； and Cairhien soon will be if it is not already。 Do you mean to conquer the world with your Aiel and your army of men channeling the One Power？〃
〃If I must。〃 Rand said it just as levelly。 〃I'll wele any ruler as an ally who weles me； but so far all I've seen is maneuvering for power； or outright hostility。 Lord Bashere； there's anarchy in Tarabon and Arad Doman； and not far from it in Cairhien。 Amadicia is eyeing Altara。 The Seanchan … you may have heard rumors of them in Saldaea； the worst are likely true … the Seanchan on the other side of the world eyeing us all。 Men fighting their own petty battles with Tarmon Gai'don on the horizon。 We need peace。 Time before the Trollocs e； before the Dark One breaks free； time to ready ourselves。 If the only way I can find time and peace for the world is to impose it； I will。 I don't want to； but I will。〃
〃I have read The Karaethon Cycle；〃 Bashere said。 Putting the goblets under his arm for a moment； he broke the wax seal on the jar and filled them with wine。 〃More importantly； Queen Tenobia has read the Prophecies； too。 I cannot speak for Kandor； or Arafel； or Shienar。 I believe they will e to you … not a child in the Borderlands but knows the Shadow waits in the Blight to descend on us … but I cannot speak for them。〃 Enaila eyed the goblet he handed her suspiciously； but she climbed the stairs to hand it to Rand。 〃In truth；〃 Bashere continued； 〃I cannot even speak for Saldaea。 Tenobia rules； I am only her general。 But I think once I send a fast rider to her with a message； the return will be that Saldaea marches with the Dragon Reborn。 In the meanwhile； I offer you my services； and those of nine thousand Saldaean horse。〃
Rand swirled the goblet； staring down into the dark red wine。 Sammael in Illian； and other Forsaken the Light alone knew where。 Seanchan waiting across the Aryth Ocean； and men here ready to leap for their own advantage and profit whatever it cost the world。 〃Peace is far off yet；〃 he said softly。 〃It will be blood and death for some time to e。〃
〃It always is；〃 Bashere replied quietly； and Rand did not know which statement he was speaking to。 Perhaps both。
Tucking his harp under his arm； Asmodean drifted away from Mat and Aviendha。 He enjoyed playing； but not for a pair who did not listen； much less appreciate。 He was not sure what had happened that morning； and not sure he wanted to be sure。 Too many Aiel had expressed surprise at seeing him； had claimed they had seen him dead； he did not want details。 There was a long gash down the wall in front of him。 He knew what made that sharp edge； that surface as slick as ice； smoother than any hand could have polished in a hundred years。
Idly … but with a shiver； too … he wondered whether being reborn in this fashion made him a new man。 He did not think so。 Immortality was gone。 That was a gift of the Great Lord； he used that name in his head； whatever al'Thor demanded on his tongue。 That was proof enough that he was himself。 Immortality gone … he knew it must be imagination； yet sometimes he thought he could feel time dragging at him； pulling him toward a grave he had never thought to meet … and drawing the little of saidin he could was like drinking sewage。 He was hardly sorry Lanfear was dead。 Rahvin neither； but Lanfear especially； for what she had done to him。 He would laugh when each of the others died； too； and most for the last。 It was not that he had been reborn as a new man at all； but he would cling to that tuft of grass on the cliff's brink as long as he could。 The roots would give way eventually； the long fall would e； but until then he was still alive。
He pulled open a small door； intending to find his way to the pantry。 There should be some decent wine。 One step； and he stopped； the blood draining from his face。
〃You？ No！〃 The word still hung in the air when death took him。
Morgase blotted sweat from her face； then tucked the handkerchief back up her sleeve and readjusted her somewhat ragged straw hat。 At least she had managed to acquire a decent riding dress； though even fine gray wool was still unfortable in this heat。 Actually； Tallanvor had acquired it。 Letting her horse walk； she eyed the tall young man； riding up ahead through the trees。 Basel Gill's roundness emphasized how tail and fit Tallanvor was。 He had handed the dress to her saying it suited her better than the itchy thing she had fled the palace in； looking down at her； never blinking； never speaking a word of respect。 Of course； she herself had decided it was not safe for anyone to know who she was； especially after discovering Gareth Bryne gone from Kore Springs； why did the man have to be off chasing barn…burners when she needed him？ No matter； she would do as well without him。 But there was something disturbing in Tallanvor's eyes when he called her simply Morgase。
Sighing； she glanced back over her shoulder。 Hulking Lamgwin rode watching the forest； Breane at his side watching him as much as anything else。 Her army had not grown a whit since Caemlyn。 Too many had heard of nobles exiled for no cause and unjust laws in the capital to do more than scoff at the most casual mention of stirring a hand in support of their rightful ruler。 She doubted that even knowing who spoke to them would have made a difference。 So here she rode through Altara； keeping to forest as much as possible because there seemed to be parties of armed men everywhere； rode through the forest with a scar…faced street tough； a besotted refugee Cairhienin noblewoman； a stout innkeeper who could hardly keep from kneeling whenever she glanced at him； and a young soldier who sometimes looked at her as though she had on one of those dresses she had worn for Gaebril。 And Lini； of course。 There was no forgetting Lini。
As if thinking of her had been a summons； the old nurse heeled her horse closer。 〃Better to keep your eyes a