Be careful of currents, he’d said. River currents are one of the most dangerous things under the Light, but only because men underestimate them. The surface looks still because nothing is fighting it. Nothing wants to. The fish go along with it and men stay out of it, all except the fools who think to prove themselves.

Elayne stepped down the rocky bank, toward Bashere. Her guards stayed behind—Birgitte wasn’t with them just now. She was seeing to the archer companies miles downriver, where they were busy pounding the Trollocs building rafts to get them across the river. Birgitte’s archers and Talmanes’ dragons were doing an outstanding job of reducing the Trolloc numbers there, but it was still only a matter of time before their vast army would pour across the Alguenya.

Elayne had pulled her forces out of Andor a week before, and she and Bashere had been pleased with their progress. Until they had discovered the trap.

“Amazing, isn't it?” she asked, stepping up beside Bashere, who stood at the river’s bank.

Bashere glanced at her, then nodded. “We don’t have anything like it, back home.”

“What of the Arinelle?”

“It doesn't grow this big until it’s outside of Saldaea,” he said absently. “This is almost like an ocean, settled right here, dividing bank from bank. It makes me smile, thinking of how the Aiel must have regarded it after first crossing the Spine.”

The two of them were silent for a time.

“How bad is it?” Elayne finally asked.

“Bad,” Bashere said. “I should have realized, burn me. I should have seen.”

“You can’t plan for everything, Bashere.”

“Pardon,” he said, “but that is exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.” Their march eastward from Braem Wood had gone according to plan. Burning the bridges across the Erinin and the Alguenya, they had taken out large numbers of Trollocs trying to cross after them. Elayne was now on the road that went upriver to the city of Cairhien. Bashere had planned to set up their final confrontation with the Trollocs in hills along the road that lay twenty leagues south of Cairhien.

The Shadow had out-thought them. Scouts had spotted a second army of Trollocs just to the north of their current position, marching east, heading toward the city of Cairhien itself. Elayne had stripped that city of defenders to fill out her army. Now it was filled only with refugees—and was as crowded as Caemlyn had been.

“How did they do it?” she asked. “Those Trollocs couldn’t have come down from Tarwin’s Gap.”

“There hasn't been enough time for that,” Bashere agreed.

“Another Waygate?” she asked.

“Perhaps,” Bashere said. “Perhaps not.”

“How, then?” she asked. “Where did that army come from?” That army of Trollocs was almost close enough to knock on the city gates. Light!

“I made the mistake of thinking like a human,” Bashere said. “I accounted for Trolloc marching speed, but not for how the Myrddraal might push them. A foolish mistake. The army in the woods must have split in two, with half taking a northeastern route through the woods toward Cairhien. It’s the only thing I can think of.”

“We’ve been moving as quickly as we can,” Elayne said. “How could they have overtaken us?” Her army had gateways. She couldn’t move everyone through them, as she didn’t have enough channelers to hold gateways for long periods. However, she could move the supply carts, the wounded, and the camp followers through. That let them march at the speed of trained soldiers.

“We’ve moved as quickly as we could safely,” Bashere said. “A human commander would never have pushed his forces into such a terrible march. The terrain they went through had to have been awful—the rivers they had to cross, the forests, the wetlands, Light! They must have lost thousands of Trollocs to fatigue during such a march. The Fades risked it, and now they have us in a pincer. The city could be destroyed as well.”

Elayne fell silent. “I won’t let that happen,” she finally said. “Not again. Not if we can prevent it.”

“Do we have a choice?”

“Yes,” Elayne said. “Bashere, you’re one of the greatest military minds the land has known. You have resources that no man has ever had before. The dragons, the Kinswomen, Ogier willing to fight in battle . . . You can make this work. I know you can.”

“You show surprising faith in me for someone you have known a very short time.”

“Rand trusts you,” Elayne said. “Even during the dark times, Bashere—when he would look at every second person around him with darkness in his eyes—he trusted you.”

Bashere seemed troubled. “There is a way.”

“What is it?”

“We march and hit the Trollocs near Cairhien as quickly as we can. They’re tired; they have to be. If we could beat them quickly, before the horde to the south reaches us, we may have a chance. It will be difficult. The northern force probably wants to seize the city, then use it against us as the southern Trollocs arrive.”

“Could we open gateways into the city and hold it?”

“I doubt it,” Bashere said. “Not with channelers as tired as these. Beyond that, we need to destroy the northern Trollocs, not just hold against them. If we give them time to rest, they will recover from their march, be joined by the Trollocs from the south, then use Dreadlords to rip open Cairhien like an overripe apple. No, Elayne. We have to attack and crush that northern army while it is weak; only then could we possibly hold against the southern one. If we fail, the two will smash us between them.”

“It is the risk we must take,” Elayne said. “Make your plans, Bashere. We’ll make them work.”

Egwene stepped into Tel’aran’rhiod.

The World of Dreams had always been dangerous, unpredictable. Lately, it was even more so. The grand city of Tear reflected strangely in the dream, the buildings weathered as if by a hundred years of storms. The city walls were now little more than ten feet high, their tops rounded and smooth, blown by the wind. Buildings inside had worn away, leaving foundations and lumps of weathered stone.

Chilled by the sight, Egwene turned toward the Stone. It, at least, stood as it had. Tall, strong, unchanged by the weathering of the winds. That comforted her.

She sent herself into its heart. The Wise Ones waited for her. That, too, was comforting. Even in this time of change and tempest, they were solid like the Stone itself. Amys, Bair and Melaine waited for her. She overheard part of their conversation before they noticed her.

“I saw it just as she did,” Bair was saying. “Though it was my own descendants who lent me their eyes. I think we will all see it now, if we return the third time. It should be required.”

“Three visits?” Melaine said. “That brings change indeed. We still do not know if the second visit will show this, or the previous vision.”

Conscious of her eavesdropping, Egwene cleared her throat. They turned toward her, immediately falling silent.

“I did not mean to intrude,” Egwene said, walking among the columns and joining them.

“It is nothing,” Bair said. “We should have guarded our tongues. We were the ones to invite you here to meet us, after all.”

“It is good to see you, Egwene al’Vere,” Melaine said, smiling with affection. The woman looked so far along in her pregnancy, she must be close to delivering. “From reports, your army gains much ji.”

“We do well,” Egwene said, settling herself on the floor with them. “You shall have your own chance, Melaine.”

“The Car’a’carn delays,” Amys said, frowning. “The spears grow impatient. We should be moving against Sightblinder.”

“He likes to prepare and plan,” Egwene said. She hesitated. “I cannot remain with you long. I have a meeting with him later today.”