“I have been expecting you for some time,” she said. “I have not spoken about this before because it was obvious you did not want me to. After tonight, though ... What do you want to know?”
“Is that what I can expect?” he asked. “To end like that?”
“Perhaps.”
He waited for more, but she only put pen and ink away in their small case of polished rosewood and blew on her writing to dry it. “Is that all? Moiraine, don't give me slippery Aes Sedai answers. If you know something, tell me. Please.”
“I know very little, Perrin. While searching for other answers among the books and manuscripts two friends keep for their researches, I found a copied fragment of a book from the Age of Legends. It spoke of... situations like yours. That may be the only copy anywhere in the world, and it did not tell me much.”
“What did it tell you? Anything at all is more than I know now. Burn me, I've been worrying about Rand going mad, but I never thought I had to worry about myself!”
“Perrin, even in the Age of Legends, they knew little of this. Whoever wrote it seemed uncertain whether it was truth or legend. And I only saw a fragment, remember. She said that some who talked to wolves lost themselves, that what was human was swallowed up by wolf. Some. Whether she meant one in ten, or five, or nine, I do not know.”
“I can shut them out. I don't know how I do it, but I can refuse to listen to them. I can refuse to hear them. Will that help?”
“It may.” She studied him, seeming to choose her words carefully. "Mostly, she wrote of dreams. Dreams can be dangerous for you, Perrin.'
“You said that once before. What do you mean?”
“According to her, wolves live partly in this world, and partly in a world of dreams.”
“A world of dreams?” he said disbelievingly.
Moiraine gave him a sharp look. “That is what I said, and that is what she wrote. The way wolves talk to one another, the way they talk to you, is in some way connected to this world of dreams. I do not claim to understand how.” She paused, frowning slightly. “From what I have read of Aes Sedai who had the Talent called Dreaming, Dreamers sometimes spoke of encountering wolves in their dreams, even wolves that acted as guides. I fear you must learn to be as careful sleeping as waking, if you intend to avoid wolves. If that is what you decide to do.”
“If that is what I decide? Moiraine, I will not end up like Noam. I won't!”
She eyed him quizzically, shaking her head slowly. “You speak as if you can make all your own choices, Perrin. You are ta'veren, remember.” He turned his back on her, staring at the nightdark windows, but she continued: “Perhaps, knowing what Rand is, knowing how strongly ta'veren he is, I have paid too little attention to the other two ta'veren I found with him. Three ta'veren in the same village, all born within weeks of one another? That is unheard of. Perhaps you — and Mat — have larger purposes in the Pattern than you, or I, thought.”
“I do not want any purpose in the Pattern,” Perrin muttered. “I surely can't have one if I forget I am a man. Will you help me, Moiraine?” It was hard to say that. What if it means her using the One Power? Would I rather forget I'm a man? “Help me keep from — losing myself?”
“If I can keep you whole, I will. I promise you that, Perrin. But I will not endanger the struggle against the Shadow. You must know that, too.”
When he turned to look at her, she was regarding him unblinkingly. And if your struggle means putting me in my grave tomorrow, will you do that, too? He was icily sure that she would. “What have you not told me?”
“Do not presume too far, Perrin,” she said coldly. “Do not press me further than I think proper.”
He hesitated before asking the next question. “Can you do for me what you did for Lan? Can you shield my dreams?”
“I already have a Warder, Perrin.” Her lips quirked almost into a smile. “And one is all I will have. I am of the Blue Ajah, not the Green.”
“You know what I mean. I don't want to be a Warder.” Light, bound to an Aes Sedai the rest of my life? That's as bad as the wolves.
“It would not aid you, Perrin. The shielding is for dreams from the outside. The danger in your dreams is within you.” She opened the small book again. “You should sleep,” she said in dismissal. “Be wary of your dreams, but you must sleep sometime.” She turned a page, and he left.
Back in his own room, he eased the hold he kept on himself, eased it just a trifle, let his senses spread. The wolves were out there still, beyond the edges of the village, ringing Jarra. Almost immediately he snapped back to rigid selfcontrol. “What I need is a city,” he muttered. That would keep them at bay. After I find Rand. After I finish whatever has to be finished with him. He was not sure how sorry he was that Moiraine could not shield him. The One Power or the wolves; that was a choice no man should have to make.
He left the fire laid on the hearthstone unlit, and threw open both windows. Cold night air rushed in. Tossing blankets and comforter on the floor, he lay down fully clothed on the lumpy bed, not bothering to try to find a comfortable position. His last thought before sleep came was that if anything would keep him from deep sleep and dangerous dreams, that mattress would.
He was in a long hallway, its high stone ceiling and walls glistening with damp and streaked by odd shadows. They lay in contorted strips, stopping as abruptly as they began, too dark for the light between them. He had no idea where the light came from.
“No,” he said, then louder, “No! This is a dream. I need to wake up. Wake up!”
The hallway did not change.
Danger. It was a wolf's thought, faint and distant.
“I will wake up. I will!” He pounded a fist against the wall. It hurt, but he did not wake. He thought one of the sinuous shadows shifted away from his blow.
Run, brother. Run.
“Hopper?” he said wonderingly. He was sure he knew the wolf whose thoughts he heard. Hopper, who had envied the eagles. “Hopper is dead!”
Run!
Perrin lurched into a run, one hand holding his axe to keep the haft from banging against his leg. He had no idea where he was running, or why, but the urgency of Hopper's sending could not be ignored. Hopper's dead, he thought. He's dead! But Perrin ran.
Other hallways crossed the one he ran along, at odd angles, sometimes descending, sometimes climbing. None looked any different from the passage he was in, though. Damp stone walls unbroken by door