Perrin moved among the tents, looking to see if he could discover anything that Elyas and the Aiel had not. It was unlikely, but he figured it was worth an attempt, while he was here. Besides, he wanted to see the place with his own eyes. He lifted flaps, moved between groupings of tents, inspecting the place and getting a feel for it and its occupants. The camp was arranged in a very orderly manner. The insides were less stable than the tents themselves, but what he saw was also kept orderly.

The Whitecloaks liked things neat, tidy and carefully folded. And they liked to pretend the entire world could be polished up and cleaned the same way, people defined and explained in one or two words.

Perrin shook his head, making his way to the Lord Captain Commander’s tent. The organization of the tents led him to it easily, at the center ring. It wasn’t much larger than the other tents, and Perrin ducked inside, trying to see if he could find anything of use. It was furnished simply, with a bedroll that was in a different position each time Perrin looked at it, along with a table holding objects that vanished and appeared at random.

Perrin stepped up to it, picking up something that appeared there. A signet ring. He didn’t recognize the signet, a winged dagger, but memorized it just before the ring vanished from his fingers, too transient to stay long in the wolf dream. Though he’d met with the Whitecloak leader, and corresponded with the man, he didn’t know much about the man’s past. Perhaps this would help.

He searched through the tent a while longer, finding nothing of use, then went to the large tent where Gaul had explained that many of the captives were being kept. Here, he saw Master Gill’s hat appear for a moment, then vanish.

Satisfied, Perrin walked back out of the tent. As he did so, he found something bothering him. Shouldn’t he have tried something like this when Faile was kidnapped? He’d sent numerous scouts to Malden. Light, he’d had to restrain himself from marching off to find Faile on his own! But he’d never tried visiting the place in the wolf dream.

Perhaps it would have been useless. But he hadn’t considered the possibility, and that troubled him.

He froze, passing a cart parked beside one of the Whitecloak tents. The back was open, and a grizzled silver wolf lay there, watching him.

“I do let my attention grow too narrow, Hopper,” Perrin said. “When I get consumed by a goal, it can make me careless. That can be dangerous. As in battle, when concentrating on the adversary in front of you can expose you to the archer on the side.”

Hopper cracked his mouth open, smiling after the way of wolves. He hopped from the cart. Perrin could sense other wolves nearby—the others of the pack he had run with before. Oak Dancer, Sparks and Boundless.