A Memory of Light

can’t just patch the pieces. It won’t work. We need to remove the shards and make something new to go in their place. Something better.”
    “Rand,” Perrin said, “that’s the most reasonable thing anyone has said on this topic. Have you explained it that way to Egwene?”
    “She’s not a blacksmith, my friend.” Rand smiled.
    “She’s smart, Rand. Smarter than either of us. She’ll understand if you explain it the right way.”
    “We shall see,” Rand said. “Tomorrow.”
    Perrin stopped walking, his face lit by the glow of Rand’s Power-summoned orb. His camp, beside Rand’s, contained a force as large as any on the field. Rand still found it incredible that Perrin had gathered so many, including—of all things—the Whitecloaks. Rand’s eyes-and-ears indicated that everyone in Perrin’s camp seemed loyal to him. Even the Wise Ones and Aes Sedai with him were more inclined to do what Perrin said than not.
    Sure as the wind and the sky, Perrin had become a king. A different kind of king than Rand—a king of his people, who lived among them. Rand couldn’t take that same path. Perrin could be a man. Rand had to be something more, for a little time yet. He had to be a symbol, a force that everyone could rely upon.
    That was terribly tiring. Not all of it was physical fatigue, but instead something deeper. Being what people needed was wearing on him, grinding as surely as a river cut at a mountain. In the end, the river would always win.
    “I’ll support you in this, Rand,” Perrin said. “But I want you to promise me that you won’t let it come to blows. I won’t fight Elayne. Going up against the Aes Sedai would be worse. We can’t afford to squabble.”
    “There won’t be fighting.”
    “Promise me.” Perrin’s face grew so hard, one could have broken rocks against it. “Promise me, Rand.”
    “I promise it, my friend. I’ll bring us to the Last Battle united.”
    “That’ll do, then.” Perrin walked into his camp, nodding to the sentries. Two Rivers men, both of them—Reed Soalen and Kert Wagoner. They saluted Perrin, then eyed Rand and bowed somewhat awkwardly.
    Reed and Kert. He’d known them both—Light, he’d looked up to them, as a child—but Rand had grown accustomed to people he’d known treating him as a stranger. He felt the mantle of the Dragon Reborn harden upon him.
    “My Lord Dragon,” Kert said. “Are we ... I mean . . .” He gulped and looked at the sky, and the clouds that seemed to be—despite Rand’s presence—creeping in on them. “Things look bad, don’t they?”
    “The storms are often bad, Kert,” Rand said. “But the Two Rivers survives them. Such it will do again.”
    “But . . ” Kert said again. “It looks bad. Light burn me, but it does.”
    “It will be as the Wheel wills,” Rand said, glancing northward. “Peace, Kert, Reed,” Rand said softly. “The Prophecies have nearly all been fulfilled. This day was seen, and our tests are known. We do not walk into them unaware.”
    He hadn’t promised them they would win or that they would survive, but both men stood up straighter and nodded, smiling. People liked to know that there was a plan. The knowledge that someone was in control might be the strongest comfort that Rand could offer them.
    “That’s enough bothering the Lord Dragon with your questions,” Perrin said. “Make sure you guard this post well—no dozing, Kert, and no dicing.”
    Both men saluted again as Perrin and Rand passed into the camp. There was more cheer here than there was in other camps on the Field. The campfires seemed faintly brighter, the laughter faintly louder. It was as if the Two Rivers folk had managed, somehow, to bring home with them.
    “You lead them well,” Rand said softly, moving quickly beside Perrin, who nodded toward those out at night.
    “They shouldn’t need me to tell them what to do, and that’s that.” However, when a messenger came running into camp, Perrin was immediately in charge. He called the spindly youth by name and, seeing the boy’s flushed face and trembling legs—he was frightened of Rand—Perrin pulled him aside and spoke softly, but firmly, with him.
    Perrin sent the boy off to find Lady Faile, then stepped over. “I need to talk to Rand again.”
    “You’re talking to—”
    “I need the real Rand, not the man who’s learned to talk like an Aes Sedai.”
    Rand sighed. “It really is me, Perrin,” he protested. “I’m more me than I’ve been