"Yes," Simion said slowly. "Yes, I see." He hesitated, then nodded, and jerked his head toward the shed door.

That was all the answer Perrin needed. He swung back the slatted door and stood aside.

For a moment Noam stared at the opening. Abruptly he darted out of the cage, running on all fours, but with surprising agility. Out of the cage, out of the shed, and into the night. The Light help us both, Perrin thought.

"I suppose it's better for him to be free." Simion gave himself a shake. "But I don't know what Master Harod will say when he finds that door standing open and Noam gone."

Perrin shut the cage door; the big lock made a sharp click as he refastened it. "Let him puzzle that out."

Simion barked a quick laugh, abruptly cut off. "He'll make something out of it. They all will. Some of them say Noam turned into a wolf – fur and all! – when he bit Mother Roon. It's not true, but they say it."

Shivering, Perrin leaned his head against the cage door. He may not have fur, but he's a wolf. He's wolf, not man. Light, help me.

"We didn't keep him here always," Simion said suddenly. "He was at Mother Roon's house, but she and I got Master Harod to move him here after the Whitecloaks came. They always have a list of names, Darkfriends they're looking for. It was Noam's eyes, you see. One of the names the Whitecloaks had was a fellow named Perrin Aybara, a blacksmith. They said he has yellow eyes, and runs with wolves. You can see why I didn't want them to know about Noam."

Perrin turned his head enough to look at Simion over his shoulder. "Do you think this Perrin Aybara is a Darkfriend?"

"A Darkfriend wouldn't care if my brother died in a cage. I suppose she found you soon after it happened. In time to help. I wish she'd come to Jarra a few months ago."

Perrin was ashamed that he had ever compared the man to a frog. "And I wish she could have done something for him." Burn me, I wish she could. Suddenly it burst on him that the whole village must know about Noam. About his eyes. "Simion, would you bring me something to eat in my room?" Master Harod and the rest might have been too taken with staring at Loial to notice his eyes before, but they surely would if he ate in the common room.

"Of course. And in the morning, too. You don't have to come down until you are ready to get on your horse."

"You are a good man, Simion. A good man." Simion looked so pleased that Perrin felt ashamed all over again.

Perrin returned to his room by the back way, and after a time Simion came up with a covered tray. The cloth did not hold in the smells of roasted mutton, sweetbeans, turnips, and freshly baked bread, but Perrin lay on his bed, staring at the whitewashed ceiling, until the aromas grew cold. Images of Noam ran through his head over and over again. Noam chewing at the wooden slats. Noam running off into the darkness. He tried to think of lock-making, of the careful quenching and shaping of the steel, but it did not work.

Ignoring the tray, he rose and made his way down the hall to Moiraine's room. She answered his rap on the door with, "Come in, Perrin."

For an instant all the old stories about Aes Sedai stirred again, but he pushed them aside and opened the door.

Moiraine was alone – for which he was grateful – sitting with an ink bottle balanced on her knee, writing in a small, leather-bound book. She corked the bottle and wiped the steel nib of her pen on a small scrap of parchment without looking at him. There was a fire in the fireplace.

"I have been expecting you for some time," she said. "I have not spoken about this before because it was obvious you did not want me to. After tonight, though ... What do you want to know?"

"Is that what I can expect?" he asked. "To end like that?"

"Perhaps."

He waited for more, but she only put pen and ink away in their small case of polished rosewood and blew on her writing to dry it. "Is that all? Moiraine, don't give me slippery Aes Sedai answers. If you know something, tell me. Please."

"I know very little, Perrin. While searching for other answers among the books and manuscripts two friends keep for their researches, I found a copied fragment of a book from the Age of Legends. It spoke of... situations like yours. That may be the only copy anywhere in the world, and it did not tell me much."

"What did it tell you? Anything at all is more than I know now. Burn me, I've been worrying about Rand going mad, but I never thought I had to worry about myself!"

"Perrin, even in the Age of Legends, they knew little of this. Whoever wrote it seemed uncertain whether it was truth or legend. And I only saw a fragment, remember. She said that some who talked to wolves lost themselves, that what was human was swallowed up by wolf. Some. Whether she meant one in ten, or five, or nine, I do not know."

"I can shut them out. I don't know how I do it, but I can refuse to listen to them. I can refuse to hear them. Will that help?"

"It may." She studied him, seeming to choose her words carefully. "Mostly, she wrote of dreams. Dreams can be dangerous for you, Perrin.'

"You said that once before. What do you mean?"

"According to her, wolves live partly in this world, and partly in a world of dreams."

"A world of dreams?" he said disbelievingly.

Moiraine gave him a sharp look. "That is what I said, and that is what she wrote. The way wolves talk to one another, the way they talk to you, is in some way connected to this world of dreams. I do not claim to understand how." She paused, frowning slightly. "From what I have read of Aes Sedai who had the Talent called Dreaming, Dreamers sometimes spoke of encountering wolves in their dreams, even wolves that acted as guides. I fear you must learn to be as careful sleeping as waking, if you intend to avoid wolves. If that is what you decide to do."

"If that is what I decide? Moiraine, I will not end up like Noam. I won't!"

She eyed him quizzically, shaking her head slowly. "You speak as if you can make all your own choices, Perrin. You are ta'veren, remember." He turned his back on her, staring at the night-dark windows, but she continued: "Perhaps, knowing what Rand is, knowing how strongly ta'veren he is, I have paid too little attention to the other two ta'veren I found with him. Three ta'veren in the same village, all born within weeks of one another? That is unheard of. Perhaps you – and Mat – have larger purposes in the Pattern than you, or I, thought."

"I do not want any purpose in the Pattern," Perrin muttered. "I surely can't have one if I forget I am a man. Will you help me, Moiraine?" It was hard to say that. What if it means her using the One Power? Would I rather forget I'm a man? "Help me keep from – losing myself?"

"If I can keep you whole, I will. I promise you that, Perrin. But I will not endanger the struggle against the Shadow. You must know that, too."

When he turned to look at her, she was regarding him unblinkingly. And if your struggle means putting me in my grave tomorrow, will you do that, too? He was icily sure that she would. "What have you not told me?"

"Do not presume too far, Perrin," she said coldly. "Do not press me further than I think proper."

He hesitated before asking the next question. "Can you do for me what you did for Lan? Can you shield my dreams?"

"I already have a Warder, Perrin." Her lips quirked almost into a smile. "And one is all I will have. I am of the Blue Ajah, not the Green."

"You know what I mean. I don't want to be a Warder." Light, bound to an Aes Sedai the rest of my life? That's as bad as the wolves.

"It would not aid you, Perrin. The shielding is for dreams from the outside. The danger in your dreams is within you." She opened the small book again. "You should sleep," she said in dismissal. "Be wary of your dreams, but you must sleep sometime." She turned a page, and he left.