He was standing on a rise, with shadowy, indistinct dips and swells all around him. They seemed to fade into the distance too soon. Rand stood below him. Rand, and a ragged circle of Myrddraal and men and women his eyes seemed to slide right past. Dogs howled somewhere in the distance, and Perrin knew they were hunting something. Myrddraal scent and the stink of burned sulphur filled the air. Perrin's hackles rose.
The circle of Myrddraal and people came closer to Rand, all walking as if asleep. And Rand began to kill them. Balls of fire flew from his hands and consumed two. Lightning flashed from above to shrivel others. Bars of light like whitehot steel flew from his fists to more. And the survivors continued to walk slowly closer, as if none of them saw what was happening. One by one they died, until none were left, and Rand sank down on his knees, panting. Perrin was not sure whether he was laughing or crying; it seemed to be some of each.
Shapes appeared over the rises, more people coming, more Myrddraal, all intent on Rand.
Perrin cupped his hands to his mouth. “Rand! Rand, there are more coming!”
Rand looked up at him from his crouch, snarling, sweat slicking his face.“Rand, they're —!”
“Burn you!” Rand howled.
Light burned Perrin's eyes, and pain seared everything.
Groaning, he rolled into a ball on the narrow bed, the light still burning behind his eyelids. His chest hurt. He raised a hand to it and winced when he felt a burn under his shirt, a spot no bigger than a silver penny.
Bit by bit he forced his knotted muscles to let him straighten his legs and lie flat in the dark cabin. Moiraine. I have to tell Moiraine this time. Just have to wait till the pain goes away.
But as the pain began to fade, exhaustion took him. He barely had a thought that he must get up before sleep pulled him down again.
When he opened his eyes again, he lay staring at the beams overhead. Light at the top and bottom of the door told him morning had come. He put a hand to his chest to convince himself he had imagined it, imagined it so well that he had actually felt a burn...
His fingers found the burn. I didn't imagine it, then. He had dim memories of a few other dreams, fading even as he recalled them. Ordinary dreams. He even felt as if he had had a good night's sleep. And could use another one right now. But it meant he could sleep. As long as there are no wolves around, anyway.
He remembered making a decision in that brief waking after the dream with Hopper, and after a moment he decided it had been a good one.
It took knocking on five doors and being cursed at twice — the inhabitants of two cabins had gone on deck — before he found Moiraine. She was fully dressed, but sitting on one of the narrow beds crosslegged, reading in her book of notes by lantern light. Back near the beginning, he saw, notes that must have been made even before she had come to Emond's Field. Lan's things were neatly placed on the other bed.
“I had a dream,” he told her, and proceeded to tell her of it. All of it. He even pulled up his shirt to show her the small circle on his chest, red, with wavy red lines radiating from it. He had kept things from her before, and he suspected he would again, but this might be too important to hold back. The pin was the smallest part of a pair of scissors, and the easiest made, but without it, the scissors cut no cloth. When he was done, he stood there waiting.
She had watched him without expression, except that those dark eyes had examined every word as it came out of his mouth, weighed it, measured it, held it up to the light. Now she sat the same way, only it was he who was examined, weighed, and held up to the light.
“Well, is it important?” he demanded finally. “I think it was one of those wolf dreams you told me about — I'm sure it was; it must have been! — but that doesn't make what I saw real. Only, you said maybe some of the Forsaken are free, and he called her Lanfear, and... Is it important, or am I standing here making a fool out of myself?”
“There are women,” she said slowly, “who would do their best to gentle you if they heard what I just did.” His lungs seemed to freeze; he could not breathe. “I am not accusing you of being able to channel,” she went on, and the ice inside him melted, “or even of being able to learn. An attempt at gentling would not harm you, beyond the rough treatment the Red Ajah would give you before they realized their error. Such men are so rare, even the Reds with all their hunting have not found more than three in the last ten years. Before the outbreak of false Dragons, at least. What I am trying to make clear to you is that I do not think you will suddenly begin wielding the Power. You do not have to be afraid of that.”
“Well, thank you very much for that,” he said bitterly. “You did not have to scare me to death just so you could tell me there was no need to be frightened!”
“Oh, you do have reason to be frightened. Or at least careful, as the wolf suggested. Red sisters, or others, might kill you before they discovered there was nothing to gentle in you.”
“Light! Light burn me!” He stared at her with a frown. “You're trying to lead me around by the nose, Moiraine, but I am no calf, and there's no ring in my nose. The Red Ajah or any other would not think of gentling unless there was something real in what I dreamed. Does it mean the Forsaken are loose?”
“I told you before that they might be. Some of them. Your... dreams are nothing I expected, Perrin. Dreamers have written of wolves, but I did not expect this.”
“Well, I think it was real. I think I saw something that really happened, something I wasn't supposed to see.” What you must see. “I think Lanfear is loose at the very least. What are you going to do?”
“I am going to Illian. And then I will go to Tear, and hope to reach it before Rand. We had need to leave Remen too quickly for Lan to learn whether he crossed the river or went down it. We should know before we reach Illian, though. We will find sign if he has gone this way.” She glanced at her book as if she wanted to resume her reading.
“Is that all you are going to do? With Lanfear loose, and the Light alone knows how many of the others?”
“Do not question me,” she said coldly. “You do not know which questions to ask, and you would comprehend less than half the answers if I gave them. Which I will not.”
He shifted his feet under her gaze until it became clear she would say no more on the matter. His shirt rubbed painfully at the burn on his chest. It did not seem a bad hurt — Not for being struck by lightning it doesn't! — but how he had come by it was another matter. “Uh...