“Step closer, and I’ll destroy it,” Perrin said.

Slayer snorted, walking forward. “You don’t have the strength for that, boy. I don’t even have the strength to manage that.” His eyes flickered unconsciously over Perrin’s shoulder. Toward what?

Dragonmount, Perrin thought. He must have worried I was coming this way to toss it in. Was that, then, an indication of a way Perrin could destroy the ter’angreal? Or was Slayer trying to mislead him?

“Don’t press me, boy,” Slayer said, sword and knife appearing in his hands as he walked forward. “I’ve already killed four wolves today. Give me the spike.”

Four? But he’d killed only one that Perrin had seen. He’s trying to goad me.

“You think I’ll believe that you won’t kill me if I give it to you?” Perrin said. “If I gave this to you, you’d have to go put it back in Ghealdan. You know I’d just follow you there.” Perrin shook his head. “One of us has to die, and that’s that.”

Slayer hesitated, then smiled. “Luc hates you, you know. Hates you deeply.”

“And you don’t?” Perrin asked, frowning.

“No more than the wolf hates the stag.”

“You are not a wolf,” Perrin said, growling softly.

Slayer shrugged. “Let us be done with this, then.” He dashed forward.

Gawyn charged into the White Tower; the men on guard barely had time to salute. He dashed past mirrored stand-lamps. Only one in every two was lit, to conserve oil. As he reached a ramp upward, he heard feet behind him.

His sword hissed as he pulled it free, spinning. Mazone and Celark pulled to a halt. The former Younglings wore Tower Guard uniforms now. Would they try to stop him? Who knew what kind of orders Egwene had left?

They saluted.

“Men?” Gawyn said. “What are you doing?”

“Sir,” Celark said, lean face shadowed in the patchy lamplight. “When an officer runs by with a look like that on his face, you don’t ask if he needs help. You just follow!”

Gawyn smiled. “Come on.” He dashed up the ramps, the two men following, swords at the ready.

Egwene’s quarters were some way up, and Gawyn’s pulse was racing—his breathing forced—by the time they reached her level. They hurried down three hallways; then Gawyn held up his hand. He glanced at the nearby shadowed recesses. Were any of them deep enough to hide a Bloodknife?

You cannot have light without shadow…

He peeked around the corner toward Egwene’s door; he stood in virtually the same position he had been when he had ruined her plans before. Was he doing the same thing now? His two guardsmen stood up close behind him, waiting on his command.

Yes. He was doing the same thing as before. And yet, something had changed. He would see her protected so that she could do great things. He would stand in her shadow and be proud. He would do as she asked—but would see her safe no matter what.

Because that was what a Warder did.