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away it looked as solid as the rest； but close up there was only a thin screen of branches。 As he pushed through； he heard horses ing。 Not the wind。
He crouched behind the barely covered opening； clutching the hilt of his sword as the horsemen rode by。 Five 。。。 six 。。。 seven of them。 Plainly dressed men； but swords and spears said they were not villagers。 Some wore leather tunics with metal studs； and two had round steel caps。 Merchants' guards； perhaps； between hirings。 Perhaps。
One of them casually swung his eyes toward the hedge as he went by the opening； and Rand bared an inch of his sword。 Mat snarled silently like a cornered badger； squinting above his scarf。 His hand was under his coat； he always clutched the dagger from Shadar Logoth when there was danger。 Rand was no longer sure if it was to protect himself or to protect the ruby…hilted dagger。 Of late Mat seemed to forget he had a bow； sometimes。
The riders passed at a slow trot； going somewhere with a purpose but not too great a haste。 Dust sifted through the hedge。
Rand waited until the clop of the hooves faded before he stuck his head cautiously back through the hole。 The dust…tail was well down the road； going the way they had e。 Eastward the sky was clear。 He climbed out onto the roadway； watching the column of dust move west。
〃Not after us；〃 he said； halfway between a statement and a question。
Mat scrambled out after him； looking warily in both directions。 〃Maybe；〃 he said。 〃Maybe。〃
Rand had no idea which way he meant it； but he nodded。 Maybe。 It had not begun like this； their journey down the Caemlyn Road。
For a long time after leaving Whitebridge； Rand would suddenly find himself staring back down the road behind them。 Sometimes he would see someone who made his breath catch； a tall； skinny man hurrying up the road； or a lanky； white…haired fellow up beside the driver on a wagon； but it was always a pack…peddler； or farmers making their way to market； never Thom Merrilin。 Hope faded as the days passed。
There was considerable traffic on the road； wagons and carts； people on horses and people afoot。 They came singly and in groups； a train of merchants' wagons or a dozen horsemen together。 They did not jam the road； and often there was nothing in sight except the all but leafless trees lining the hard…packed roadbed； but there were certainly more people traveling than Rand had ever seen in the Two Rivers。
Most traveled in the same direction that they did； eastward toward Caemlyn。 Sometimes they got a ride in a farmer's wagon for a little distance； a mile； or five； but more often they walked。 Men on horseback they avoided； when they spotted even one rider in the distance they scrambled off the road and hid until he was past。 None ever wore a black cloak； and Rand did not really think a Fade would let them see him ing； but there was no point in taking chances。 In the beginning it was just the Halfmen they feared。
The first village after Whitebridge looked so much like Emond's Field that Rand's steps dragged when he saw it。 Thatched roofs with high peaks； and goodwives in their aprons gossiping over the fences between their houses； and children playing on a village green。 The women's hair hung unbraided around their shoulders； and other small things were different； too； but the whole together was like home。 Cows cropped on the green； and geese waddled self…importantly across the road。 The children tumbled； laughing； in the dust where the grass was gone altogether。 They did not even look around when Rand and Mat went by。 That was another thing that was different。 Strangers were no oddity there； two more did not draw so much as a second glance。 Village dogs only raised their heads to sniff as he and Mat passed； none stirred themselves。
It was ing on evening as they went through the village； and he felt a pang of homesickness as lights appeared in the windows。 No matter what it looks like； a small voice whispered in his mind； it isn't really home。 Even if you go into one of those houses Tam won't be there。 If he was； could you look him in the face？ You know； now； don't you？ Except for little things like where you e from and who you are。 No fever…dreams。 He hunched his shoulders against taunting laughter inside his head。 You might as well stop； the voice snickered。 One place it as good as another when you aren't from anywhere； and the Dark One has you marked。
Mat tugged at his sleeve； but he pulled loose and stared at the houses。 He did not want to stop； but he did want to look and remember。 So much like home； but you'll never see that again； will you？
Mat yanked at him again。 His face was taut； the skin around his mouth and eyes white。 〃e on；〃 Mat muttered。 〃e on。〃 He looked at the village as if he suspected something of hiding there。 〃e on。 We can't stop yet。 〃
Rand turned in a plete circle； taking in the whole village； and sighed。 They were not very far from Whitebridge。 If the Myrddraal could get past Whitebridge's wall without being seen； it would have no trouble at all searching this small village。 He let himself be drawn on into the countryside beyond； until the thatch…roofed houses were left behind。
Night fell before they found a spot by moonlight； under some bushes still bearing their dead leaves。 They filled their bellies with cold water from a shallow rivulet not far away and curled up on the ground； wrapped in their cloaks； without a fire。 A fire could be seen； better to be cold。
Uneasy with his memories； Rand woke often； and every time he could hear Mat muttering and tossing in his sleep。 He did not dream； that he could remember； but he did not sleep well。 You'll never see home again。
That was not the only night they spent with just their cloaks to protect them from the wind； and sometimes the rain； cold and soaking。 It was not the only meal they made from nothing but cold water。 Between them they had enough coins for a few meals at an inn； but a bed for the night would take too much。 Things cost more outside the Two Rivers； more this side of the Arinelle than in Baerlon。 What money they had left had to be saved for an emergency。
One afternoon Rand mentioned the dagger with the ruby in its hilt； while they were trudging down the road with bellies too empty to rumble； and the sun low and weak； and nothing in view for the ing night but more bushes。 Dark clouds built up overhead for rain during the night。 He hoped they were lucky； maybe no more than an icy drizzle。
He went on a few steps before he realized that Mat had stopped。 He stopped； too； wriggling his toes in his boots。 At least his feet felt warm。 He eased the straps across his shoulders。 His blanket roll and Thom's bundled cloak were not heavy； but even a few pounds weighed heavy after miles on an empty stomach。 〃What's the matter； Mat？〃 he said。
〃Why are you so anxious to sell it？〃 Mat demanded angrily。 〃I found it； after all。 You ever think I might like to keep it？ For a while； anyway。 If you want to sell something； sell that bloody sword！〃
Rand rubbed his hand along the heron…marked hilt。 〃My father gave this sword to me。 It was his。 I wouldn't ask you to sell something your father gave you。 Blood and ashes； Mat； do you like going hungry？ Anyway； even if I could find somebody to buy it； how much would a sword bring？ What would a farmer want with a sword？ That ruby would fetch enough to take us all the way to Caemlyn in a carriage。 Maybe all the way to Tar Valon。 And we'd eat every meal in an inn； and sleep every night in a bed。 Maybe you like the idea of walking halfway across the world and sleeping on the ground？〃 He glared at Mat； and his friend glared back。
They stood like that in the middle of the road until Mat suddenly gave an unfortable shrug； and dropped his eyes to the road。 〃Who would I sell it to； Rand？ A farmer would have to pay in chickens； we couldn't buy a carriage with chickens。 And if I even showed it in any village we've been through； they'd probably think we stole it。 The Light knows what would happen then。〃
After a minute Rand nodded reluctantly。 〃You're right。 I know it。 I'm sorry； I didn't mean