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Here； too； he found only a few Trolloc camps； enough to pen the villagers。 There was an easier way out from here than trying to cross the White； with its endless stretch of rapids。
On northward he ran； to Taren Ferry； on the bank of the Tarendrelle； which he had grown up calling the River Taren。 Tall； narrow houses built on high stone foundations to escape the Taren's yearly flooding when the snows melted in the Mountains of Mist。 Nearly half those foundations supported only piles of ash and charred beams in that unchanging afternoon light。 There were no wagons here； no signs of any defense。 And no Trolloc camps that he could find。 Perhaps no people remained here。
At the water's edge stood a stout wooden dock； a heavy rope drooping as it arced across the swift…flowing river。 The rope ran through iron rings on a flat…decked barge snugged against the dock。 The ferry was still there； still usable。
A jump took him across the river； where wheel ruts scarred the bank and household objects lay about。 Chairs and stand…mirrors； chests； even a few tables and a polished wardrobe with birds carved on the doors； all the things panicked people had tried to save； then abandoned to run faster。 They would be spreading the word of what had happened here； what was happening in the Two Rivers。 Some could have reached Baerlon by now； a hundred miles or more north； and surely the farms and villages between Baerlon and the river。 Word spreading。 In another month it might reach Caemlyn； and Queen Morgase with her Queen's Guards and her power to raise armies。 A month with luck。 And as much to return； once Morgase believed。 Too late for Emond's Field。 Maybe too late for the whole Two Rivers。
Still； it hardly made sense that the Trollocs had let anyone escape。 Or the Myrddraal at any rate； Trollocs did not seem to think much beyond the moment。 He would have thought destroying the ferry would have been the Fades' first task。 How could they be sure there were not enough soldiers at Baerlon to e down on them？
He bent to pick up a doll with a painted wooden face； and an arrow streaked through where his chest had been。
Springing out of his crouch he leaped up the bank； a blur streaking a hundred paces into the woods to crouch below a tall leatherleaf。 Brush and flood…toppled trees woven with creepers covered the forest floor around him。
Slayer。 Perrin had an arrow nocked； and wondered if he had drawn it from his quiver or simply thought it there。 Slayer。
On the point of leaping away again； he paused。 Slayer would know roughly where he was。 Perrin had followed the man's blurring form easily enough； that elongated streak was clear if you were standing still。 Twice now he had played the other's game and nearly lost。 Let Slayer play his this time。 He waited。
Ravens swooped above the treetops； searching and calling。 No movement to give him away； not a twitch。 Only his eyes moved； studying the forest around him。 A vagrant puff of air brought him a cold smell； human yet not； and he smiled。 No sound save the ravens； though； this Slayer stalked well。 But he was not used to being hunted。 What else did Slayer forget beside smells？ He surely would not expect Perrin to remain where he had landed。 Animals ran from the hunter； even wolves ran。
A hint of movement； and for an instant a face appeared above a fallen pine some fifty paces away。 The slanting light illuminated it clearly。 Dark hair and blue eyes； a face all hard planes and angles； so reminiscent of Lan's face。 Except that in that brief glimpse Slayer licked his lips twice； his forehead was creased； and his eyes darted as they searched。 Lan would not have let his worry show if he stood alone against a thousand Trollocs。 Just an instant； and the face was gone again。 The ravens darted and swirled above as if they shared Slayer's anxiety； fearing to e below the treetops。
Perrin waited and watched； motionless。 Silence。 Only the cold smell to say he was not alone with the ravens overhead。
Slayer's face appeared again； peering around a thick…boled oak off to his left。 Thirty paces。 Oaks killed most of what grew close to them； only a few mushrooms and weedy things sprouted from the leafy mulch beneath its limbs。 Slowly the man emerged into the open； boots making no sound。
In one motion Perrin drew and fired。 The ravens screamed warning； and Slayer spun to take the broadhead shaft in his chest； but not through the heart。 The man howled； clutching the arrow with both hands； black feathers rained down as the ravens beat their wings in a frenzy。 And Slayer faded； him and his cry together； growing misty； transparent； vanishing。 The ravens' shrieks vanished as if severed with a knife； the arrow that had transfixed the man dropped to the ground。 The ravens were gone； too。
With a second shaft half…drawn； Perrin exhaled slowly； let off his tension on the bowstring。 Was that how you died here？ Simply fading away； gone forever？
〃At least I finished him；〃 he muttered。 And let himself be diverted in the process。 Slayer was no part of why he had e to the wolf dream。 At least the wolves were safe now。 The wolves … and maybe a few others。
He stepped out of the dream。。。
。。。and woke staring at the ceiling； his shirt clinging sweatily。 The moon gave a little light through the windows。 There were fiddles playing somewhere in the village； a wild Tinker tune。 They would not fight； but they had found a way to help； by keeping spirits up。
Slowly Perrin sat up； pulling on his boots in the pale…lit dark。 How to do what he had to do？ It would be difficult。 He had to be cunning。 Only； he was not sure he had ever been cunning in his life。 Standing； he stamped his feet to settle them in。
Sudden shouts outside and a fading clatter of hooves made him stride to the nearest window and throw up the sash。 The panions were milling about below。 〃What's going on down there？〃
Thirty faces turned up to him； and Ban al'Seen yelled； 〃It was Lord Luc； Lord Perrin。 He nearly rode down Wil and Tell。 I don't think he even saw them。 He was all hunched over in his saddle like he was hurt； and spurring that stallion for all he was worth； Lord Perrin。〃
Perrin tugged at his beard。 Luc had certainly not been wounded earlier。 Luc。。。 and Slayer？ It was impossible。 Dark…haired Slayer looked like Lan's brother or cousin； if Luc； with his red…gold hair； resembled anyone； maybe it was Rand a little。 The two men could not have been more dissimilar。 And yet。。。。 That cold smell。 They did not smell the same； but both had an icy； hardly human scent。 His ears picked up the sound of wagons being hauled out of the way down at the Old Road； shouts for haste。 Even if Ban and the panions ran； they would not catch the man now。 Hooves galloped south hard。
〃Ban；〃 he called； 〃if Luc shows up again； he's to be put under guard and kept there。〃 He paused long enough to add； 〃And don't call me that！〃 before hauling the sash down with a bang。
Luc and Slayer； Slayer and Luc。 How could they be the same？ It was impossible。 But then； less than two years gone he had not really believed in Trollocs or Fades。 Time enough to worry about it if he ever laid hands on the man again。 Now there was Watch Hill and Deven Ride and。。。 Some could be saved。 Not everyone in the Two Rivers had to die。
On his way to the mon room； he paused at the top of the stairs。 Aram stood up from the bottom step； watching him； waiting to follow where he led。 Gaul lay stretched out on a pallet near the fireplace with a bandage thick around his left thigh； apparently asleep。 Faile and the Two Maidens sat cross…legged on the floor near him； talking softly。 A much larger pallet lay on the far side of the room； but Loial sat on a bench with his legs stretched out so they would fit under one of the tables； nearly doubled over so he could scribble furiously with a pen by the light of a candle。 No doubt he was recording what had happened on the journey to close the Waygate。 And if Perrin knew Loial at all； the Ogier would have Gaul doing it all； whether he had or not。 Loial did not seem to think anything he himself did was brave； or worth writing down。 Except for them； the mon room was empty。 He could still hear those fiddles playing。 He thought he recognized the tune。 Not a Tinker song； now。 〃My Love Is a Wild Rose。〃
Faile looked up at Perrin's first step down； rising gracefully to meet him。 Aram took his seat again when Perrin made no move toward the door。
〃Your shirt is wet；〃 Faile said accusingly。 〃You slept in it； didn't you？ And your boots； I shouldn't wonder。 It has not been an hour since I left you。 You march yourself back upstairs before you fall down。〃
〃Did you see Luc leave？〃 he said。 Her mouth tightened； but sometimes ignoring her was the only way。 She managed to win too often when he argued with her。
〃He came running through here a few minutes ago and dashed out through the kitchen；〃 she said finally。 Those were the words； her tone said she was not finished with him and bed。
〃Did he seem to be。。。 injured？〃
〃Yes；〃 she said slowly。 〃He staggered； and he was clutching something to his chest under h