A Memory of Light

much of an advantage. I have to move very slowly, like a lizard at midnight, so that your sense of where I am does not change too quickly.”
    Light, Aviendha! Why do you need to sneak up on me in the first place?”
    “For this,” she said, then jumped forward, snatching his head and kissing him, her body pressed against his.
    He relaxed, letting the kiss linger. “Unsurprisingly,” he mumbled around her lips, this is much more fun now that I don’t have to worry about freezing my bits off while doing it.”
    Aviendha pulled back. “You should not speak of that event, Rand al’Thor.”
    “But—”
    “My toh is paid, and I am now first-sister to Elayne. Do not remind me of a shame that is forgotten.”
    Shame? Why would she be ashamed of that when just now . . . He shook his head. He could hear the land breathing, could sense a beetle on a leaf half a league away, but sometimes he could not fathom Aiel. Or maybe it was just women.
    In this case, it was probably both.
    Aviendha hesitated beside the tent’s barrel of fresh water. “I suppose that we will not have time for a bath.”
    “Oh, you like baths now?”
    “I have accepted them as a part of life,” she said. “If I am going to live in the wetlands, then I will adopt some wetlander customs. When they are not foolish.” Her tone indicated that most of them were.
    “What’s wrong?” Rand asked, stepping up to her.
    “Wrong?”
    “Something bothers you, Aviendha. I can see it in you, feel it in you.” She looked him over with a critical eye. Light, but she was beautiful. “You were much easier to manage before you received the ancient wisdom of your former self, Rand al’Thor.”
    “I was?” he asked, smiling. “You didn’t act that way at the time.”
    “That was when I was as a new child, inexperienced in Rand al’Thor’s boundless capacity to be frustrating.” She dipped her hands into the water and washed her face. “It is well; if I had known some of what was to come with you, I might have put on the white and never removed it.”
    He smiled, then channeled, weaving Water and drawing the liquid from the barrel in a stream. Aviendha stepped back, watching with curiosity.
    “You no longer seem bothered by the idea of a man channeling,” he noted as he fanned the water out into the air and heated it with a thread of Fire.
    “There is no longer a reason to be bothered. If I were to be uncomfortable with you channeling, I would be behaving like a man refusing to forget a woman’s shame after her toh has been met.” She eyed him.
    “I can’t imagine anyone being that crass,” he said, tossing aside his robe and stepping up to her. “Here. This is a relic from that ancient wisdom’ you apparently find so frustrating.”
    He brought the water in, warmed perfectly, and shattered it into a thick misting spray that wove about them in a rush. Aviendha gasped, clutching his arm. She might be growing more comfortable with wetlander ways, but water still made her both uncomfortable and reverent.
    Rand snatched some soap with Air and shaved it into part of the mix of water, sending a spinning whirl of bubbles around them, swirling up their bodies and pulling their hair into the air, twisting Aviendha’s about like a column before dropping it back lightly to her shoulders.
    He used another wave of warm water to remove the soap, then pulled most of the wetness away, leaving them damp but not soaked. He dumped the water back into the barrel and, with a hint of reluctance, released saidin.
    Aviendha was panting. “That . . . That was completely crackbrained and irresponsible.”
    “Thank you,” he said, fetching a towel and tossing it to her. “You would consider most of what we did during the Age of Legends to be crackbrained and irresponsible. That was a different time, Aviendha. There were many more channelers, and we were trained from a young age. We didn’t need to know things like warfare, or how to kill. We had eliminated pain, hunger, suffering, war. Instead, we used the One Power for things that might seem common.”
    “You’d only assumed that you’d eliminated war,” Aviendha said with a sniff. “You were wrong. Your ignorance left you weak.”
    “It did. I can’t decide if I would have changed things, though. There were many good years. Good decades, good centuries. We believed we were living in paradise. Perhaps that was our downfall. We wanted our lives to be perfect, so we ignored imperfections. Problems were