They did it, stringing themselves out in two columns behind Ban and Darmil. Wil and Bili wore disgruntled frowns, but they held whatever objections they had. Faile gave Perrin an approving nod, and so did Tomas. Verin watched it all with a smooth, unreadable face, no doubt thinking she was seeing a ta'veren at work. Perrin saw no need to tell her he had just tried to think of what a Shienaran he knew, a soldier named Uno, would have said, though no doubt Uno would have put it in harsher words.
Farms began to appear more frequently as they approached Watch Hill, coming in clumps closer together until they ran on continuously the way they did near Emond's Field, a patchwork of hedged or stonewalled fields separated by narrow lanes, footways and wagon paths. Even with their pauses at the four farms, there was still some daylight left, still men working their crops, and boys driving sheep and cattle in from pasture for the night. No one would be leaving their animals out these days.
Tam suggested Perrin cease warning people, and he reluctantly agreed. They would all head for Watch Hill here, alerting the Whitecloaks. Twentyodd people riding together by the back ways attracted enough eyes, though most people appeared too busy to do more than glance. It would have to be done sooner or later, though, and the sooner the better. So long as people remained in the countryside, needing Whitecloak protection, then the Whitecloaks had a foothold in the Two Rivers they might not want to give up.
Perrin kept a sharp eye out for any sign of Whitecloak patrols, but except for one dust cloud over toward the North Road, heading south, he saw none. After a time Tam suggested they dismount and lead their horses. Afoot there was less chance of being, spotted, and the hedges and even the low stone walls shielded them a little.
Tam and Abell knew a thicket that gave a good view of the Whitecloak camp, a tangle of oak and sourgum and leatherleaf that covered three or four hides little more than a mile south and west of Watch Hill over an open stretch of ground. They entered from the south, hurrying. Perrin hoped no one had seen them go in, no one to wonder why they did not come out and comment on it.
“Stay here,” he told Wil and the other young men while they were tying their horses to branches. “Keep your bows handy, and be ready to run if you hear a shout. But don't move unless you hear me shout. And if anybody makes any noise, I'll pound his head like an anvil. We're here to look, not pull the Whitecloaks down on us by tramping around like blind bulls.” Fingering their bows nervously, they nodded. Perhaps it was beginning to dawn on them just what they were doing. The Children of the Light might not take kindly to finding Two Rivers folk riding about in an armed bunch.
“Were you ever a soldier?” Faile asked quizzically in a low voice. “Some of my father's... guards talk that way.”
“I'm a blacksmith.” Perrin laughed. “I've just heard soldiers talk. It seems to work, though.” Even Wil and Bili were peering about uneasily and hardly daring to move.
Creeping from tree to tree, he and Faile followed Tam and Abell to where the Aiel were already crouching near the thicket's north edge. Verin was there, too, and Tomas, of course. The brush made a thin screen of leaves, enough to hide them but no hindrance to observation.
The Whitecloak encampment stretched out at the foot of Watch Hill like a village itself. Hundreds of men, some armored, moved among long, straight rows of white tents, with lines of horses, five deep, staked out to east and west. Animals being unsaddled and curried indicated patrols finishing their day, while a double column of maybe a hundred mounted men, pristine and precise, trailed off toward the Waterwood at a brisk walk, lances all at the same angle. At intervals around the encampment whitecloaked guards marched up and down, lances shouldered like spears, burnished helmets flashing in the sinking sun.
A rumble came to Perrin's ears. Well to the west twenty horsemen appeared, galloping from the direction of Emond's Field, hurrying toward the tents. From the direction he and the others had come. A few minutes slower, and they would have been seen for sure. A horn sounded, and men began moving to the cook fires.
Off to one side lay a much smaller camp, its tents set haphazardly. Some sagged against their guy ropes. Whoever stayed there, most were gone now. Only a few horses flicking their tails against flies along a short picket rope indicated that anyone was there at all. Not Whitecloaks. The Children of the Light were too rigidly tidy for that camp.
Between the thicket and the two sets of tents was an expanse of grass and wildflowers. Very likely the local farmers used to use it for pasture. Not now, however, It was fairly flat ground. Whitecloaks galloping like that patrol could cover it in a minute.
Abell directed Perrin's attention to the large camp. “You see that tent near the middle, with a. man standing watch at either end? Can you make it out?” Perrin nodded. The low sun was slanting sharp shadows eastward, but he could see well enough. “That's where Natti and the girls are. And the Luhhans. I've seen them come out and go in. One at a time, and always with a guard, even to the latrines.”
“We have tried to sneak in at night three times,” Tam said, “but they keep a tight watch over the perimeter of the camp. We barely got away the last time.”
It would be like trying to stick your hand into an anthill without being stung. Perrin sat down at the base of a tall leatherleaf with his bow across his knees. “I want to think on this awhile. Master al'Thor, will you settle Wil and that lot down? See none of them takes it into his head to run for home. Like as not they'd ride straight for the North Road, not thinking, and we'd have half a hundred of those Whitecloaks over here to investigate. If any of them thought to bring food, you could see they get something to eat. If we have to run, we may spend the rest of the night in the saddle.”
Abruptly he realized he was giving orders, but when he tried to apologize, Tam grinned and said, “Perrin, you took charge back at Jac's place. This isn't the first time I've followed a younger man who could see what had to be done.”
“You are doing good, Perrin,” Abell said before the two older men slipped back into the trees.
Perplexed, Perrin scratched his heard. He had taken charge? Now that he thought of it, neither Tam nor Abell had really made a decision since leaving the al'Seen farm, only offered suggestions and left it to him. Neither had called him “lad” since then, either.
“Interesting,” Verin said. She had her small book out. He wished he could have a chance to read what she had written.
“You going to caution me about being foolish again?” he said.
Instead of answering, she said in a meditative voice, “It will be even more interesting to see what you do next., I cannot say you are shifting the world on its foundations, as Rand al'Thor is, but the Two Rivers is surely moving. I wonder if you have a clue as to where you are moving it.”
“I mean to free the Luhhans and the Cauthons,” he told her angrily. “That's all!” Except for the Trollocs. He let his head drop back against the bole of the leatherleaf and closed his eyes. “All I'm doing is what I have to do. The Two Rivers will stay right where it always has.”
“Of course,” Verin said.
He heard her moving away, her and Tomas, slipper and boots alike soft on ground strewn with last year's leaves. He opened his eyes. Faile was staring after the pair, and not best pleased.
“She will not leave you alone,” she muttered. The plaited crown of heartsblush he had left on his saddle dangled from her hand.
“Aes Sedai never do,” he told her.
She turned on him with a challenging look. “I suppose you mean to try bringing them out tonight?”
It had to be done now. Because he had been passing his warning about, and folks knew who had told them. Maybe the Whitecloaks would not hurt their prisoners. Maybe. He trusted Whitecloak mercy as far as he could throw a horse. He glanced at Gaul, who nodded.
“Tam al'Thor and Abell Cauthon move well for wetlanders, but these Whitecloaks are too stiff to see everything that moves in the dark, I think. I think they expect their enemies to come in numbers, and where they can be seen.”
Chiad turned amused gray eyes on the Aielman. “Do you mean to move like wind then, Stone Dog? It will be diverting to see a Stone Dog try to move lightly. When my spearsister and I have rescued the prisoners, perhaps we will go back for you, if you are too old to find your own way.” Bain touched her arm, and she looked at the flamehaired woman in surprise. After a moment, she flushed slightly under her tan. Both women shifted their eyes to Faile, who was still watching Perrin, her head up and her arms crossed now.
He took a long breath. If he told her he did not want her to come, Bain and Chiad almost certainly would not, either. They were still making a point of being with her, not him. Maybe Faile was, too. Perhaps he and Gaul could do it alone, but he could not see how to make her stay if she did not want to. Faile being Faile, she would just as likely sneak after them. “You will stay close to me,” he said firmly. “I want to rescue prisoners, not leave another behind.”
Laughing, she dropped down beside him, snuggling her shoulder under his arm. “Staying close to you sounds a fine idea.” She flipped the crown of red flowers onto his head, and Bain chuckled.
He rolled his eyes up; he could just see the edge of the thing hanging over his forehead. He must look a fool. He left it there, though.
The sun slid down as slowly as a bead in honey. Abell brought some bread and cheese — over half those wouldbe heroes had not brought anything to eat after all — and they ate and waited. Night came, lit by a moon already high but obscured by scurrying clouds. Perrin waited. Lights vanished in the Whitecloak camp, and in Watch Hill, too, leaving a sprinkling of glowing windows across the otherwise dark mound, and he gathered Tam and Faile and the Aiel around him. Everyone's face was clear, to him. Verin stood close enough to listen. Abell and Tomas were with the other Two Rivers folk, keeping them quiet.
He felt a little odd giving instructions, so kept them simple. Tam was to have everyone ready to ride the moment Perrin returned with the prisoners. The Whitecloaks would be after them as soon as they discovered what was up, so a place to hide was needed. Tam knew one, an empty farmhouse in the edge of the Westwood.
“Try not to kill anybody, if you can manage it,” Perrin cautioned the Aiel. “The Whitecloaks will be hot enough at losing their prisoners. They'll set the sun afire if they lose men, too.” Gaul and the Maidens nodded as if they looked forward to it. Strange people. They vanished into the night.
“Have a care,” Verin told him softly as he slung his bow across his back. Ta'veren does not mean immortal."
“Tomas might be a help, you know.”
“Do you think one more would make a difference?” she said musingly. “Besides, I have other uses for him.”
Shaking his head, he moved out from the thicket, going to elbows and knees, almost flat to the ground, as soon as he was beyond the brush. Faile imitated him at his side. The grass and wildflowers stood high enough to screen them. He was glad she could not see his face. He was desperately afraid. Not for himself, but if a