Death, Lews Therin whispered.

Rand forgot everything else. Death? What do you mean?

Death comes.

What kind of death?Rand demanded. What are you talking about?

Who are you? Where am I?

Rand felt as though a fist had clutched his throat. He had been sure, but... This was the first time Lews Therin had said anything to him, something clearly and plainly addressed to him. I am Rand al’Thor. You are inside my head.

Inside... ? No! I am myself! I am Lews Therin Telamon! I am meeeeeeeeee!The cry faded away into the distance.

Come back, Rand shouted. What death? Answer me, burn you!Silence. He shifted uneasily. Knowing was one thing, but a dead man, inside him, talking of death, made him feel unclean, like the faintest brush of the taint on saidin.

Something touched his arm, and he nearly seized at the Source again before he realized it was Aviendha. She must have flown into her clothes, yet she looked as if she had taken an hour to arrange every hair to her liking. People said Aiel showed no emotion, but it was just that they were more reserved than most. Their faces told as much as anyone else’s if you knew what to look for. Aviendha was torn between concern and wanting to be angry.

"Are you well?" she asked.

"I was just thinking," he told her. True enough. Answer me, Lews Therin! Come back and answer me!Why had he ever thought silence suited the morning?

Unfortunately, Aviendha took him at his word, and if there was nothing to be concerned about... She put her fists on her hips. That was one thing he understood about women, Aiel, Two Rivers or whoever; fists on hips meant trouble. He need not have bothered lighting the lamps; her eyes were hot enough to light the room. "You went away without me again. I promised the Wise Ones to stay near you until I must go, but you make my promise nothing. You have tohto me for this, Rand al’Thor. Nandera, from now on I must be told where he is going and when. He must not be allowed to go without me if I should accompany him."

Nandera hesitated not a moment before nodding. "It shall be as you wish, Aviendha."

Rand squared around on both women. "Now, just you wait! Nobody is to be told my comings and goings unless I say so."

"I have given my word, Rand al’Thor," Nandera said in a flat voice. She looked him in the eye with no notion of backing up.

"As do I," Jalani said just as levelly.

Rand opened his mouth, then closed it again. Bloody ji’e’toh. No use mentioning he was the Car’a’carn, of course. Aviendha looked faintly surprised that he had even protested; apparently to her it was a foregone conclusion. He shifted his shoulders uneasily, though not because of Aviendha. That unclean feel was still there, and stronger. Maybe Lews Therin had come back. Silently Rand called to him, but there was still no answer.

A tap on the door barely preceded Mistress Harfor, who made her usual deep curtsy. The First Maid showed no sign of the early hour, of course; whatever the time of day, Reene Harfor always looked as if she had just gotten dressed. "There have been arrivals in the city, my Lord Dragon, which Lord Bashere thought you should be told of as soon as possible. Lady Aemlyn and Lord Culhan entered yesterday at noon, and are staying with Lord Pelivar. Lady Arathelle came an hour later, with a large retinue. Lord Barel and Lord Macharan, Lady Sergase and Lady Negara entered separately in the night, with only a few retainers each. None has presented their respects at the Palace." She delivered the last in the same even tone, with no hint of her own opinion.

"That is good news," he told her, and it was, whether they had left respects or not. Aemlyn and her husband Culhan were nearly as powerful as Pelivar, Arathelle more powerful than any except Dyelin and Luan. The others were of minor Houses, and only Barel among them High Seat of his House, but the nobles who had opposed "Gaebril" were beginning to gather. At least, it was good news provided he found Elayne before they decided to try taking Caemlyn away from him.

Mistress Harfor eyed him a moment, then extended a blue-sealed letter. "This was delivered late last evening, my Lord Dragon. By a stableboy. A dirty stableboy. The Sea Folk Wavemistress was not well pleased that you were gone when she appeared for her audience." This time her disapproval was clear in her voice, though not whether it was for the Wavemistress or Rand missing the audience or the means of the letter’s delivery.

He sighed; he had forgotten all about the Sea Folk here in Caemlyn. That reminded him of the letter he had been given in Cairhien, and he dug it out. Both green wax and blue bore the same impression, though he could not make out what it was supposed to be. Two things like flattened bowls with a thick ornate line running from one through the other. Each was addressed to "The Coramoor," whoever or whatever that was. Himself, he supposed. Maybe that was what the Sea Folk called the Dragon Reborn. He broke the blue seal first. There was no salutation, and it was certainly unlike anything else Rand had ever seen addressed to the Dragon Reborn.

The Light willing, you will perhaps return to Caemlyn eventually. As I have traveled far to see you, perhaps I will find time for it when you do.

Zaida din Parede Blackwing of Clan Catelar, Wavemistress

It seemed Mistress Harfor was right; the Wavemistress was not best pleased. The green seal hid little better.

If it pleases the Light, I will receive you on the deck of White Sprayat your earliest convenience.

Harine din Togara Two Winds of Clan Shodein, Wavemistress

"Are they bad news?" Aviendha asked.

"I don’t know." Frowning at the letters, he was barely aware of Mistress Harfor admitting a woman in the red-and-white and exchanging quiet words with her. Neither of these Sea Folk women sounded like anybody he wanted to spend an hour with. He had read every translation of the Prophecies of the Dragon he could find, and though the clearest was often murky, he remembered nothing that indicated the Atha’an Miere. Perhaps, on their ships at sea and their distant islands, they would be one people untouched by him or Tarmon Gai’don. He owed this Zaida an apology, but maybe he could fob her off with Bashere; Bashere certainly had enough titles to flatter anybody’s vanity. "I don’t think so."

The servant sank to her knees before him, white head bowed low and hands raised high to proffer yet another letter, this one on thick parchment. The posture itself made him blink; even in Tear he had never seen a servant cringe so, much less in Andor. Mistress Harfor was frowning and shaking her head. The kneeling woman spoke, still with her face down. "This has come for my Lord Dragon."

"Sulin?" he gasped. "What are you doing? What are you doing in that... dress?"

Sulin turned her face up; she looked perfectly horrible, a wolf trying very hard to pretend she was a doe. "It is what women wear who serve and obey as commanded for coins." She waggled the letter in her still upraised hands. "I was commanded to say that this has just come for my Lord Dragon, by a... a horseman who left as soon as it was handed over." The First Maid clicked her tongue irritably.

"I want a straight answer," he said, snatching the sealed parchment. She bounded to her feet as soon as it left her hands. "Come back here, Sulin. Sulin, I want an answer!" But she ran as fleetly as she ever had in cadin’sor, straight to the doors and out.

For some reason Mistress Harfor glared at Nandera. "I told you this would not work. And I told you both that as long as she wears the Palace livery, I expect her to do the Palace proud whether she’s Aiel or the Queen of Saldaea." Curtsying, she gave Rand a hasty "My Lord Dragon" and stalked out talking to herself about crazy Aiel.