Dav and the other two looked at each other doubtfully. Perrin supposed he must not seem to be making much sense.

"It was a bunch of Coplins, mainly," the third fellow said in a startlingly deep voice. "Darl and Hari and Dag and Ewal. And Wit Congar. Daise gave him a fit over it."

"I heard they all liked the Whitecloaks." Perrin thought the bass-voiced fellow seemed familiar. He was younger than Elam and Dav by two or three years yet an inch taller, lean-faced but with wide shoulders.

"They did." The fellow laughed. "You know them. They drift naturally toward anything that makes trouble for somebody else. Since Lord Luc has been talking, they're all for marching up to Watch Hill and telling the Whitecloaks to get out of the Two Rivers. Anyway, they're for somebody else marching up there. I think they mean to be well back in the pack."

If that face had been pudgy, and half a foot or more nearer the ground... "Ewin Einngar!" Perrin exclaimed. It could not be; Ewin was a stout, squeaky little nuisance who tried to crowd in whenever the older fellows got together. This lad would be as big as he was, or bigger, by the time he stopped growing. "Is that you?"

Ewin nodded with a broad grin. "We've been hearing all about you, Perrin," he said in that surprising bass, "fighting Trollocs, and having all kinds of adventures out in the world, so they say. I can still call you Perrin, can't I?"

"Light, yes!" Perrin barked. He was more than tired of this Goldeneyes business.

"I wish I'd gone with you last year." Dav rubbed his hands together eagerly. "Coming home with Aes Sedai, and Warders, and an Ogier." He made them sound like trophies. "All I ever do is herd cows and milk cows, herd cows and milk cows. That and hoe, and chop wood. You've had all the luck."

"What was it like?" Elam put in breathlessly. "Alanna Sedai said you've been all the way to the Great Blight, and I hear you've seen Caemlyn, and Tear. What's a city like? Are they really ten times as big as Emond's Field? Did you see a palace? Are there Darkfriends in the cities? Is the Blight really full of Trollocs and Fades and Warders?"

"Did a Trolloc give you that scar?" Voice like a bull or not, Ewin managed a sort of squeaky excitement. "I wish I had a scar. Did you see a queen? Or a king? I think I'd rather see a queen, but a king would be grand. What is the White Tower like? Is it as big as a palace?"

Faile smiled, amused, but Perrin blinked at the onslaught. Had they forgotten the Trollocs on Winternight, forgotten the Trollocs in the countryside right then? Elam clutched his sword hilt as if he wanted to be off for the Blight on the instant, and Dav was up on his toes, eyes gleaming, and Ewin looked ready to grab Perrin's collar. Adventure? They were idiots. Yet there were hard times coming, harder than the Two Rivers had seen so far, he was afraid. It could not hurt if they had a little while longer before they learned the truth.

His side hurt, but he tried to answer. They seemed disappointed he had never seen the White Tower, or a king or a queen. He thought Berelain might suffice for a queen, but with Faile there he was not about to mention her. Some other things he shied away from; Falme, and the Eye of the World, the Forsaken, Callandor. Dangerous subjects, those, leading inevitably to the Dragon Reborn. He could tell them a little of Caemlyn, though, and Tear, of the Borderlands and the Blight. It was odd what they accepted and what not. The corrupted landscape of the Blight, seeming to rot while you looked at it, they ate up, and top-knotted Shienaran soldiers, and Ogier stedding where Aes Sedai could not wield the Power and Fades were reluctant to enter. But the size of the Stone of Tear, or the immensity of cities...

About his own supposed adventures, he said "Mainly I've just tried to keep from having my head split open. That's what adventures are, that and finding a place to sleep for the night, and something to eat. You go hungry a lot having adventures, and sleep cold or wet or both."

They did not like that very much, or appear to believe it any more than they believed that the Stone was as big as a small mountain. He reminded himself that he had known as little of the world before he left the Two Rivers. It did not help much. He had never been this wide-eyed. Had he? The common room seemed to be hot. He would have taken his coat off, but moving seemed too much effort.

"What about Rand and Mat?" Ewin demanded. "If it's all being hungry and getting rained on, why didn't they come home, too?"

Tam and Abell had come in, Tam with a sword belted on over his coat and both men with bows – oddly, the sword looked right on Tam, farm coat or no – so he told it much as he had before, Mat gambling and carousing in taverns and chasing girls, and Rand in his fine coat with a pretty, yellow-haired girl on his arm. He made Elayne a lady, expecting they would never believe the Daughter-Heir of Andor, and was proved right when they expressed incredulity. Still, it all seemed satisfactory, the kind of thing they wanted to hear, and disbelief faded a bit when Elam pointed out that Faile was a lady and seemed to be dancing attendance on Perrin pretty sharp. That made Perrin grin; he wondered what they would say if he told them she was cousin to a queen.

Faile no longer appeared to be amused for some reason. She turned on them with a stare to match Elayne's haughtiest, stiff-backed and frosty-faced. "You have badgered him enough. He is wounded. Off with you, now."

For a wonder, they bowed clumsily – Dav made an awkward leg, looking a complete fool – and murmured hasty apologies – to her, not him! – and turned to go. Their departure was delayed by the arrival of Loial, stooping through the doorway with his shaggy hair brushing the transom. They stared at the Ogier almost as if seeing him for the first time – then glanced at Faile and hurried on their way. That cold, lady's stare of hers did work.

When Loial straightened, his head came just short of the ceiling. His capacious coat pockets bore the usual squared bulges of books, but he carried a huge axe. Its haft stood as tall as he did, and its head, shaped like a wood-axe, was at least as big as Perrin's battle-axe. "You are hurt," he boomed as soon as his eyes fell on Perrin. "They told me you had returned, but they did not say you were hurt, or I would have come faster."

The axe gave Perrin a start. Among Ogier, "putting a long handle on your axe" meant being hasty, or angry – Ogier seemed to see the two as much the same thing for some reason. Loial did look angry, tufted ears drawing back, frowning so his dangling eyebrows hung down on his broad cheeks. At having to cut trees, no doubt. Perrin wanted to get him alone and find out if he had seen anything more concerning Alanna's doings. Or Verin's. He rubbed his face and was surprised to find it dry; he felt as if he should be sweating.

"He is also stubborn," Faile said, turning on Perrin with the same commanding look she had used on Dav and Elam and Ewin. "You should be in a bed. Where is Alanna, Verin? If she is to Heal him, where is she?"

"She will come." The Aes Sedai did not look up. She was back into her little book again, frowning thoughtfully, pen poised.

"He should still be in a bed!"

"I will have time for that later," Perrin said firmly. He smiled at her to soften it, but all that did was make her look worried and mutter "stubborn" under her breath. He could not ask Loial about the Aes Sedai in front of Verin, but there was something else at least as important. "Loial, the Waygate is unlocked, and Trollocs coming through. How can that be?"

The Ogier's brows sank even deeper, and his ears wilted. "My fault, Perrin," he rumbled mournfully. "I put both Avendesora leaves on the outside. That locked the Waygate on the inside, but from the outside, anyone could still open it. The Ways have been dark for long generations, yet we grew them. I could not bring myself to destroy the Gate. I am sorry, Perrin. It is all my fault."