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half again as tall as anyone else, sat on a log engrossed in a book that was small in his huge hands. That one’s attention never wavered, even when the only other person without a topknot shouted, “So you found her, did you? I thought you’d be gone the night, this time.” It was a young woman’s voice, but she wore a boy’s coat and breeches and had her hair cut short.
    A burst of wind swirled into the bowl, making cloaks flap and rippling the banner out to its full length. For a moment the creature on it seemed to ride the wind. A four-legged serpent scaled in gold and scarlet, goldenmaned like a lion, and its feet each tipped with five golden claws. A banner of legend. A banner most men would not know if they saw it, but would fear when they learned its name.
    Perrin waved a hand that took it all in as he led the way down into the bowl. “Welcome to the camp of the Dragon Reborn, Leya.”
     

CHAPTER
2

Saidin
    Face expressionless, the Tuatha’an woman stared at the banner as it drooped again, then turned her attention to those around the fire. Especially the one reading, the one half again as tall as Perrin and twice as big. “You have an Ogier with you. I would not have thought. . . .” She shook her head. “Where is Moiraine Sedai?” It seemed the Dragon banner might as well not exist as far as she was concerned.
    Perrin gestured toward the rough hut that stood furthest up the slope, at the far end of the bowl. With walls and sloping roof of unpeeled logs, it was the largest, though not very big at that. Perhaps just barely large enough to be called a cabin rather than a hut. “That one is hers. Hers and Lan’s. He is her Warder. When you have had something hot to drink—”
    “No. I must speak to Moiraine.”
    He was not surprised. All the women who came insisted on speaking to Moiraine immediately, and alone. The news that Moiraine chose to share with the rest of them did not always seem very important, but the women held the intensity of a hunter stalking the last rabbit in the world for his starving family. The half-frozen old beggar woman had refused blankets and a plate of hot stew and tramped up to Moiraine’s hut, barefoot in still-falling snow.
    Leya slid from her saddle and handed the reins up to Perrin. “Will you see that she is fed?” She patted the piebald mare’s nose. “Piesa is not used to carrying me over such rugged country.”
    “Fodder is scarce, still,” Perrin told her, “but she’ll have what we can give her.”
    Leya nodded, and went hurrying away up the slope without another word, holding her bright green skirts up, the blue-embroidered red cloak swaying behind her.
    Perrin swung down from his saddle, exchanging a few words with the men who came from the fires to take the horses. He gave his bow to the one who took Stepper. No, except for one raven, they had seen nothing but the mountains and the Tuatha’an woman. Yes, the raven was dead. No, she had told them nothing of what was happening outside the mountains. No, he had no idea whether they would be leaving soon.
    Or ever
, he added to himself. Moiraine had kept them there all winter. The Shienarans did not think she gave the orders, not here, but Perrin knew that Aes Sedai somehow always seemed to get their way. Especially Moiraine.
    Once the horses were led away to the rude log stable, the riders went to warm themselves. Perrin tossed his cloak back over his shoulders and held his hands out to the flames gratefully. The big kettle, Baerlon work by the look of it, gave off smells that had been making his mouth water for some time already. Someone had been lucky hunting today, it seemed, and lumpy roots circled another fire close by, giving off an aroma faintly like turnips as they roasted. He wrinkled his nose and concentrated on the stew. More and more he wanted meat above anything else.
    The woman in men’s clothes was peering toward Leya, who was just disappearing into Moiraine’s hut.
    “What do you see,