It was an education for Rand, beginning with seven steddingscattered through the Borderlands. But then, Trollocs feared to enter a stedding, and even Myrddraal needed some great purpose to drive them into one. The Spine of the World, the Dragonwall, held thirteen, including one in Kinslayer’s Dagger, from Stedding Shangtai in the south to Stedding Qichen and Stedding Sanshen in the north, only a few miles apart.

"The land truly changed in the Breaking of the World," Haman explained when Rand commented. He continued marking briskly, though; briskly for an Ogier. "Dry land became sea and sea dry land, but the land folded as well. Sometimes what was far apart became close together, and what was close, far. Though of course, no one can say whether Qichen and Sanshen were far apart at all."

"You forgot Cantoine," Covril announced, making another liveried servant drop his fresh armload of maps with a start.

Haman gave her a look and lettered in the name just above the River Iralell, not far north of Haddon Mirk. In the strip west of the Dragonwall from the southern border of Shienar to the Sea of Storms, there were only four, all newfound as the Ogier considered it, meaning the youngest, Tsofu, had had Ogier back for six hundred years and none of the others for more than a thousand. Some of the locations were as big a surprise as the Borderlands, such as the Mountains of Mist, which had six, and the Shadow Coast. The Black Hills were included, and the forests above the River Ivo, and the mountains above the River Dhagon, just north of Arad Doman.

Sadder was the list of steddingabandoned, given up because the numbers there had grown too few. The Spine of the World and the Mountains of Mist and the Shadow Coast were in that list too, and so was a steddingdeep on Almoth Plain, near the great forest called the Paerish Swar, and one in the low mountains along the north of Toman Head, facing the Aryth Ocean. Perhaps saddest was the one marked on the very edge of the Blight in Arafel; Myrddraal might be reluctant to enter a stedding, but as the Blight marched south year by year, it swept over everything.

Pausing, Haman said sadly, "Sherandu was swallowed by The Great Blight one thousand eight hundred forty-three years ago, and Chandar nine hundred sixty-eight."

"May their memories flourish and flower in the Light," Covril and Erith murmured together.

"I know of one you didn’t mark," Rand said. Perrin had told him of sheltering in it once. He pulled out a map of Andor east of the River Arinelle and touched a spot well above the road from Caemlyn to Whitebridge. It was close enough.

Haman grimaced, almost a snarl. "Where Hawkwing’s city was to be. That was never reclaimed. Several steddingwere found and never reclaimed. We try to stay away from the lands of men as much as possible." All of the marks were in rugged mountains, in places men found hard to enter, or in a few cases just far from any human habitation. Stedding Tsofu lay far closer than any other to where humans dwelled, and even then Rand knew it was a full day to the nearest village.

"This would be a fine discussion another time," Covril said, directing her words to Rand yet plainly meaning them for Haman, as her sidelong looks indicated, "but I want to make as far west as I can before nightfall." Haman sighed heavily.

"Surely you’ll stay here awhile," Rand protested. "You must be exhausted, walking all the way from Cairhien."

"Women do not become exhausted," Haman said, "they only exhaust others. That is a very old saying among us." Covril and Erith sniffed in harmony. Muttering to himself, Haman went on with his listing, but now it was cities that the Ogier had built, cities where the groves had been, each grove holding its Waygate to carry Ogier back and forth to the steddingwithout passing through the so-often troubled lands of men.

Caemlyn he marked, of course, and Tar Valon, Tear and Illian, Cairhien and Maradon and Ebou Dar. That was the end as far as cities that still existed were concerned, and Ebou Dar he wrote as Barashta. Perhaps Barashta belonged with the others, in a way, with the dots made in places where the maps showed nothing but a village if that. Mafal Dadaranell, Ancohima, and Londaren Cor, of course, and Manetheren. Aren Mador, Aridhol, Shaemal, Deranbar, Braem, Condaris, Hai Ecorimon, Iman... As that list grew, Rand began to see damp spots on each map when Haman was done. It took him a moment to realize that the Ogier Elder was weeping silently, letting the tears fall as he marked cities dead and forgotten. Perhaps he wept for the people, perhaps for the memories. The one thing Rand could be sure of was that it was not for the cities themselves, not for the lost works of Ogier masons. To the Ogier, stonework was only something they had picked up during the Exile, and what work in stone could compare with the majesty of trees?

One of those names more than tugged at Rand’s memories, and its location as well, east of Baerlon, several days above Whitebridge on the Arinelle. "There was a grove here?" he said, fingering the mark.

"At Aridhol?" Haman said. "Yes. Yes, there was. A sad business, that."

Rand did not raise his head. "In Shadar Logoth," he corrected. "A very sad business. Could you – would you – show me that Waygate if I took you there?"

Chapter 21

(Ravens)

To Shadar Logoth

"Take us there?" Covril said, frowning formidably at the map in Rand’s hands. "It will carry us well out of our way, if I remember where the Two Rivers is correctly. I will not waste another day finding Loial." Erith nodded firmly.

Haman, cheeks still damp with tears, shook his head for their haste but said, "I cannot allow it. Aridhol – Shadar Logoth, as you rightly name it now – is no place for someone as young as Erith. In good truth, it is no place for anyone."

Letting the map fall. Rand stood up. He knew Shadar Logoth better than he wanted to. "You will lose no time. In fact, you’ll gain. I will take you there by Traveling, by a gateway; you will be most of the way to the Two Rivers today. We’ll not be long. I know you can lead me right to the Waygate." Ogier could sense Waygates, if they were not too far.

This necessitated another conference beyond the fountain, one Erith demanded to be part of. Rand caught only snatches, yet it was plain that Haman, shaking his great head doggedly, opposed the plan while Covril, ears so stiff it seemed she was trying for every inch of height, insisted on it. At first Covril frowned at Erith as much as at Haman; whatever the relationship between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law among Ogier, she clearly thought the younger woman had no business in this. It did not take her long to change her mind, though. The Ogier women flanked Haman, hammering at him relentlessly.

"... too dangerous. Much too dangerous," came like distant thunder from Haman.

"... almost there today.... " A slighter thunder from Covril.

"... he has been Outside too long already... " An almost silvery peal from Erith.

"... haste makes for waste... "

"... my Loial... "

"... my Loial... "

"... Mashadar beneath our feet... "

"... my Loial... "

"... my Loial... "

"... as an Elder... "

"... my Loial... "

"... my Loial... ."

Haman came back to Rand tugging at his coat as though it had been ripped half off, followed by the women. Covril maintained a smoother face than Erith, who fought to suppress a smile, but their tufted ears were at the same jaunty angle, somehow conveying satisfaction.

"We have decided," Haman said stiffly, "to accept your offer. Let this ridiculous gallivanting be done with so I can return to my classes. And to the Stump. Um. Um. There is much to be said about you before the Stump."