A Memory of Light

substance, and the Dark One affects us. You cannot kill him. That is a fool’s task.”
    “I have been a fool before,” Rand said. “And I shall be one again. At times, Moiraine, my entire life—all that I’ve done—feels like a fool’s task. What is one more impossible challenge? I’ve met all the others. Perhaps I can accomplish this one too.”
    She tightened her grip on his arm. “You have grown so much, but you are still just a youth, are you not?”
    Rand immediately seized control of his emotions, and did not lash back at her. The surest way to be thought of as a youth was to act like one. He stood straight-backed, and spoke softly. “I have lived for four centuries,” he said. “Perhaps I am still a youth, in that all of us are, compared to the timeless age of the Wheel itself. That said, I am one of the oldest people in existence.”
    Moiraine smiled. “Very nice. Does that work on the others?”
    He hesitated. Then, oddly, he found himself grinning. “It worked pretty well on Cadsuane.”
    Moiraine sniffed. “That one . . . Well, knowing her, I doubt you fooled her as well as you assume. You may have the memories of a man four centuries old, Rand al’Thor, but that does not make you ancient. Otherwise, Matrim Cauthon would be the patriarch of us all.”
    “Mat? Why Mat?”
    “It is nothing,” Moiraine said. “Something I am not supposed to know. You are still a wide-eyed sheepherder at heart. I would not have it any other way. Lews Therin, for all of his wisdom and power, could not do what you must. Now, if you would be kind, fetch me some tea.”
    “Yes, Moiraine Sedai,” he said, immediately starting toward the teapot over the fire. He froze, then looked back at her.
    She glanced at him slyly. “Merely seeing if that still worked.”
    “I never fetched you tea,” Rand protested, walking back to her. “As I remember, I spent our last few weeks together ordering you around.”
    “So you did,” Moiraine said. “Think about what I said regarding the Dark One. But now I ask you a different question. What will you do now ? Why go to Ebou Dar?”
    “The Seanchan,” Rand said. “I must try to bring them to our side, as I promised.”
    “If I remember,” Moiraine said, “you did not promise that you would try, you promised that you would make it happen.”
    “Promises to try’ don’t achieve much in political negotiations,” Rand said, “no matter how sincere.” He held up his hand before him, arm outstretched, fingers up, and looked out of his open tent flaps. As if he were preparing to grab the lands to the south. Scoop them up, claim them as his, protect them.
    The Dragon on his arm shone, gold and crimson. “Once the Dragon, for remembrance lost.” He held up his other arm, ending at the stump near the wrist. “Twice the Dragon ... for the price he must pay.”
    “What will you do if the Seanchan leader refuses again?” Moiraine asked.
    He hadn’t told her that the Empress had refused him the first time. Moiraine didn’t need to be told things. She simply discovered them.
    “I don’t know,” Rand said softly. “If they don’t fight, Moiraine, we will lose. If they don’t join the Dragon’s Peace, then we have nothing.”
    “You spent too much time on that pact,” Moiraine said. “It distracted you from your goal. The Dragon does not bring peace, but destruction. You cannot change that with a piece of paper.”
    “We shall see,” Rand said. “Thank you for your advice. Now, and always. I don’t believe I have said that enough. I owe you a debt, Moiraine.
    Well,” she said. “I am still in need of a cup of tea.”
    Rand looked at her, incredulous. Then he laughed and walked away to bring her some.

    Moiraine held her warm cup of tea, which Rand had fetched for her before leaving. He had become ruler of so much since they had parted, and he was as humble now as when she had first found him in the Two Rivers. Maybe more so.
    Humble toward me, perhaps, she thought. He believes he can slay the Dark One. That is not the sign of a humble man. Rand al’Thor, such an odd mixture of self-effacement and pride. Did he finally have the balance right? Despite what she had said, his action toward her today proved he was no youth, but a man.
    A man could still make mistakes. Often, they were of a more dangerous sort.
    “The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills,” she murmured to herself, sipping the tea. Prepared by Rand’s hand, and not someone else’s, it was