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had！
He became aware of Marcolin staring at him； and Gregorin trying very hard not to。 〃Not yet；〃 he told them wryly； and almost laughed when they clearly understood right away。 Relief was too plain on their faces for anything else。 He was not insane。 Yet。 〃e；〃 he told them； and started Tai'daishar down the slope at a trot。 Despite the men following； he felt alone。 Despite the Power； he felt empty。
Between the ridge and the hills lay patches of thick scrub and long stretches of dead grass； a glistening mat of brown and yellow beaten flat by the rain。 Only a few days ago the ground had been so parched that he had thought it could drink a river without changing。 Then the torrents came； sent by the Creator finding mercy at last； or maybe by the Dark One in a fit of black humor； he did not know which。 Now the horses' hooves splashed mud at every second step。 He hoped this did not take long。 He had some time； by what Hopwil had reported； but not forever。 Perhaps weeks； if he was lucky。 He needed months。 Light； he needed years he would never have！
His hearing heightened by the Power； he could make out some of what the men behind him were saying。 Gregorin and Marcolin rode knee…to…knee； trying to hold their cloaks against the wind and speaking in low tones about the men ahead； about their fears the men might fight。 Neither doubted they would be crushed if they resisted； but they feared the effect on Rand； and his on Illian； if Illianers fought him now that Brend was dead。 They still could not bring themselves to give Brend his true name； Sammael。 The very notion that one of the Forsaken had ruled in Illian frightened them even more than the fact that the Dragon Reborn ruled there now。
Dashiva； slumped in his gray's saddle like a man who had never seen a horse before； muttered angrily under his breath。 In the Old Tongue； which he spoke and read as fluently as a scholar。 Rand knew a little； though not enough to understand what the fellow was mumbling。 Probably plaints about the weather； despite being a farmer； Dashiva disliked being out…of…doors unless the skies were clear。
Only Hopwil rode in silence； frowning at something beyond the horizon； his hair and cloak whipping about as wildly as Dashiva's。 Now and then he clutched the hilt of his sword unconsciously。 Rand had to speak three times； the last sharply； before Hopwil gave a surprised jerk and booted his lanky dun up beside Tai'daishar。
Rand studied him。 The young man … not a boy any longer； no matter his age … had filled out since Rand first saw him； though his nose and ears still seemed made for a bigger man。 A Dragon； red…enameled gold； now balanced the silver Sword on his high collar； just like Dashiva's。 Once； he had said he would laugh a year for joy when the Dragon was his； but he stared unblinking at Rand as though looking through him。
〃What you learned was good news；〃 Rand told him。 Only an effort kept him from trying to crush the Dragon Scepter in his fist。 〃You did well。〃 He had expected the Seanchan to return； but not so soon。 He had hoped not so soon。 And not leaping out of nowhere； swallowing cities at a gulp。 When he found out that merchants in Illian had known for days before any of them thought to inform the Nine … the Light forbid they should lose a chance at profit because too many knew too much！ … he had been within a hair of scouring the city to its foundations。 But the news was good； or as good as it could be in the circumstances。 Hopwil had Traveled to Amador； to the countryside nearby； and the Seanchan appeared to be waiting。 Perhaps digesting what they had consumed。 The Light send they choked on it！ He forced his grip to loosen on the length of Dragon…carved spearhead。 〃If Morr brings half as good； I have time to settle Illian before dealing with them。〃 Ebou Dar； as well！ The Light burn the Seanchan！ They were a distraction； one he did not need and could not afford to ignore。
Hopwil said nothing； only looked。
〃Are you upset because you had to kill women？〃 Desora； of the Musara Reyn； and Lamelle； of the Smoke Water Miagoma； and。。。 Rand forced down the instinctive litany even as it began floating across the Void。 New names had appeared on that list； names he did not remember adding。 Laigin Arnault； a Red sister who had died trying to take him a prisoner to Tar Valon。 Surely she had no right to a place； but she had claimed one。 Colavaere Saighan； who had hanged herself rather than accept justice。 Others。 Men had died in thousands； by his order or by his hand； but it was the faces of the women that haunted his dreams。 Each night； he made himself confront their silently accusing eyes。 Maybe it was their eyes he had felt of late。
〃I told you about damane and sul'dam；〃 he said calmly； but inside of him； rage flared； fire spiderwebbing around the emptiness of the Void。 The Light burn me； I've killed more women than all your nightmares could hold！ My hands are black with the blood of women！ 〃If you hadn't wiped out that Seanchan patrol； they'd have killed you for sure。〃 He did not say that Hopwil should have avoided them； avoided the need to kill them。 Too late for that。 〃I doubt that damane even knew how to shield a man。 You had no choice。〃 And better they were all dead than some escaping with word of a man who could channel； scouting them。
Absently； Hopwil touched his left sleeve； where the black color disguised fire…scarred wool。 The Seanchan had not died easily or fast。 〃I piled the bodies in a hollow；〃 he said in a flat voice。 〃The horses； everything。 I burned it all to ash。 White ash that floated in the wind like snow。 It didn't bother me at all。〃
Rand heard the lie on the man's tongue； but Hopwil had to learn。 After all； he had。 They were what they were； and that was all there was to it。 All there was。 Liah； of the Cosaida Chareen； a name written in fire。 Moiraine Damodred； another name that seared to the soul rather than merely burning。 A nameless Darkfriend； represented only by a face； who had died by his sword near。。。
〃Majesty；〃 Gregorin said loudly； pointing ahead。 A lone man came out of the trees at the foot of the nearest hill to stand waiting in an attitude of defiance。 He carried a bow； and wore a pointed steel cap and a belted mail shirt that hung nearly to his knees。
Rand spurred Tai'daishar to meet him seething with the Power。 Saidin could protect him from men。
Up close； the bowman did not make so brave a sight。 Rust streaked his helmet and mail； and he looked sodden； mud to his thighs； damp hair trailing down a narrow face。 Coughing hollowly； he scrubbed at a long nose with the back of his hand。 His bowstring appeared taut； though； that； he had protected from the rain。 And the fletchings on the arrows in his quiver looked dry； too。
〃Are you the leader here？〃 Rand demanded。
〃You might say I do speak for him；〃 the narrow…faced man replied warily。 〃Why？〃 As the others galloped up behind Rand； he shifted his feet； dark eyes like a cornered badger's。 Badgers were dangerous； cornered。
〃Watch your tongue； man！〃 Gregorin snapped。 〃You do speak to Rand al'Thor； the Dragon Reborn； Lord of the Morning and King of Illian！ Kneel to your King！ What do your name be？〃
〃He do be the Dragon Reborn？〃 the fellow said doubtfully。 Eyeing Rand from the crown on his head to his boots； lingering a moment on the gilded Dragon buckling his sword belt； the man shook his head as if he had expected someone older； or grander。 〃And Lord of the Morning； you do say？ Our King did never style himself so。〃 He made no move toward kneeling； or giving his name。 Gregorin's face darkened at the man's tone； and maybe at the man's oblique denial of Rand as King。 Marcolin gave a slight nod； as though he had expected no more。
Damp rustlings stirred in the undergrowth among the trees。 Rand heard easily； and abruptly he felt saidin fill Hopwil。 No longer staring at nothing； Hopwil studied the woodline intently； a wild light in his eyes。 Dashiva； silent； raking dark hair out of his face； looked bored。 Leaning forward in his saddle； Gregorin opened his mouth angrily。 Fire and ice； but not yet death。
〃Peace； Gregorin。〃 Rand did not raise h