A Memory of Light

Gaul by the arm and shifted them far to the north. Graendal was at Shayol Ghul? Was she trying to break in and kill Rand?
    They arrived on a ledge overlooking the valley. He and Gaul went down immediately to their stomachs, peering over the edge, inspecting the valley. An old, grizzled wolf appeared beside Perrin. He knew this wolf, he was certain of it—the scent was familiar, but he could not place a name to him, and the wolf did not send one.
    “Where?” Perrin whispered. “Is she in the cavern?”
    No, the grizzled wolf sent. There.
    The wolf sent an image of tents clustered in the valley just below the entrance to the cavern. She had not been spotted in this valley since that first time Perrin had caught her here.
    Ituralde’s troops had been holding here for long enough that their tents were becoming more and more stable in the wolf dream. Perrin shifted , carefully, down below. Gaul and the wolf joined him as he prowled forward, relying on the wolfs Sending to lead him.
    There, the wolf said, nodding toward a large tent at the center. Perrin had seen Graendal here before, at this tent, the tent of Rodel Ituralde.
    Perrin froze as the tent’s flap rustled. Graendal stepped out. She looked as she had before, with a face like a slab of rock.
    Perrin created a thin, painted wall to hide himself, but he needn’t have bothered. Graendal immediately created a gateway and stepped into the waking world. It was night there, though time passed at such a strange rate this close to the Bore, that might not mean much for the rest of the world.
    Perrin could see the same tent darkly on the other side of the gateway, two Domani guards out front. Graendal waved a hand, and both stood up straighter and saluted her.
    The gateway began to close as Graendal slipped into the tent. Perrin hesitated, then shifted to stand just in front of the gateway. He had a moment to decide. Follow?
    No. He had to keep watch on Slayer. However, being this close, he felt something ... an awareness. Stepping through that gateway would be like . . .
    Like waking up.
    The gateway snapped shut. Perrin felt a stab of regret, but knew staying in the wolf dream had been right. Rand was all but defenseless against Slayer here; he would need Perrin's help.
    “We need to send warning,” Perrin said.
    I suppose I could take the message for you, Young Bull, sent the unnamed wolf.
    Perrin froze, then spun, pointing. “Elyas!”
    I am Long Tooth here, Young Bull. Elyas sent amusement.
    “I thought you said you didn’t come here.”
    I said I avoided it. This place is strange and dangerous. I have enough strangeness and danger in my life in the other world. The wolf sat down on his haunches. But someone needed to check on you, foolish pup.
    Perrin smiled. Elyas’ thoughts were a strange mix of wolf and human. His way of sending was very wolflike, but the way he thought of himself was too individual, too human.
    “How goes the fight?” Perrin asked eagerly. Gaul took up position nearby, watching, alert, in case Graendal or Slayer appeared. The field before them, the floor of the valley, was quiet for once. The winds had died down, the dust on the sandy ground stirring in small rifts and ripples. Like water.
    I do not know of the other battlefields, Elyas sent, and we wolves stay far from the two-legs. We fight, here and there, at the edges of the battle. Mostly, we have attacked the Twisted Ones and Neverborn from the other side of the canyon, where there are no two-legs except those strange Aiel.
    It is a grueling fight. Shadowkiller must do quick work. We have stood five days, but may not last many more.
    Five days here in the north. Much longer had passed in the rest of the world since Rand entered to face the Dark One. Rand himself was so close to the Bore that it was likely only hours—maybe minutes—had passed for him. Perrin could feel how time moved differently when he drew near to where Rand fought.
    “Ituralde,” Perrin said, scratching at his beard. “He’s one of the great captains.”
    Yes, Elyas sent, smelling of amusement. Some call him “Little Wolf.” “Bashere is with Elayne’s army,” Perrin said. “And Gareth Bryne is with Egwene. Agelmar is with the Borderlanders and Lan.”
    I do not know.
    “He is. Four battlefronts. Four great captains. That’s what she’s doing.
    Graendal?” Gaul asked.
    “Yes,” Perrin said, anger gathering. “She’s doing something to them, changing their minds, corrupting them. I