“A good plan,” Faile said. “If you fear attack, we should move the camp followers first, rather than moving the armies through and leaving us undefended.”

Perrin nodded. “But get them moving as soon as the gateways work again.”

“And if you don’t succeed?” Faile had begun to sound determined. Frightened, but determined.

“If I haven’t restored gateways in one hour, start them marching toward the perimeter where Neald discovered that he can make gateways. I don’t think that will work; I think Slayer will just move the dome, always keeping us underneath it. But it’s something.”

Faile nodded, but her scent became hesitant. “That will also put us marching, rather than in camp. Much easier to ambush that way.”

“I know,” Perrin said. “That is why I must not fail.”

She took him into her arms, head against his chest. She smelled so wonderful. Like Faile. That was the definition of wonderful to him. “You’ve said he’s stronger than you are,” she whispered.

“He is.”

“Can I do anything to help you face him?” she asked softly.

“If you watch over them while I’m gone, that will help.”

“What happens if he kills you while you’re there?”

Perrin didn’t reply.

“There’s no other way?” she asked.

He pulled back from her. “Faile, I’m fairly certain that he’s Lord Luc. They smell different, but there’s something similar about them, too. And when I wounded Slayer in the wolf dream before, Luc bore the wound.”

“Is that supposed to help me feel better?” she asked, grimacing.

“It’s all coming back around. We finish with Malden and find ourselves within a stone’s toss of the remnants of the Whitecloaks, Byar and Bornhald with them. Slayer appears in the wolf dream again. That man I told you of, Noam, the one who was in the cage. Do you remember where I found him?”

“You said you were chasing Rand. Through…”

“Ghealdan,” Perrin said. “It happened not one week’s ride from here.”

“An odd coincidence, but—”

“No coincidences, Faile. Not with me. I’m here for a reason. He’s here for a reason. I must face this.”

She nodded. He turned to walk toward their tent, her hand slipping free of his. The Wise Ones had given him a tea that would let him sleep so he could enter the wolf dream.

It was time.

“How could you let him go?” Byar said, knuckles clenched on the pommel of his sword, white cloak flapping behind him. He, Bornhald and Galad walked through the middle of their camp.

“I did what was right,” Galad said.

“Letting him go free was not right!” Byar said. “You can’t believe—”

“Child Byar,” Galad said softly, “I find your attitude increasingly insubordinate. That troubles me. It should trouble you as well.”

Byar closed his mouth and said no more, though Galad could see that it was difficult for him to hold his tongue. Behind Byar, Bornhald walked silently, looking very upset.

“I believe that Aybara will keep his oath,” Galad said. “And if he does not, I now have the legal grounds to hunt him and exact punishment. It is not ideal, but there was wisdom to his words. I do believe the Last Battle is coming, and if so, it is time to unite against the Shadow.”