Taking a deep breath through his nose, Rand watched the Ogier in front of him with suspicion. Part of him hoped that Loial would think all of this was just a bad dream. The Light knew it certainly felt like one. A waking nightmare, the kind that would haunt anyone for nights. Maybe Loial believed he was going mad… Maybe he actually was.
"Ta'veren," Loial said suddenly.
Rand blinked, confused.
"What?"
"Ta'veren," the Ogier repeated, scratching behind one of his large, pointed ears with a thick finger. "Elder Haman used to say I never paid attention, but sometimes… sometimes I did listen." He gave a slight smile. "Do you know how the Pattern is woven?"
"I've never really thought about it," Rand replied cautiously. "It just… is, isn't it?"
"Yes, but not exactly." Loial straightened up, as if reciting an old lesson. "The Wheel of Time weaves the Pattern of the Ages, and the threads it uses… are lives. Each person is a thread. But the Pattern isn't fixed. It adjusts. If someone tries to change the course of their own life, and the Pattern allows it, the Wheel adjusts and accommodates the change. There's always room for small variations. But sometimes, a change is too great to be easily woven in… no matter how hard you try."
Rand nodded slowly.
"Like if I decided to spend my life on the farm… or maybe in Emond's Field. That would be something small. But if I wanted to be a king…" He gave a bitter laugh, shaking his head.
Loial smiled, showing teeth the size of chisels.
"Yes, exactly. But sometimes… the change isn't your choice. The Wheel chooses for you. And when that happens, when the Pattern needs something strong enough, it can bend a thread—or several threads—so that others around them are pulled to spin around them. These bent threads become the center of a web… a ta'maral'ailen, as we say. And the name for it is ta'veren."
He paused for a moment, as if feeling the weight of the words.
"That web can last days… weeks… even years. It can involve a whole village… or the entire world. Artur Hawkwing was ta'veren. And Lews Therin Telamon, the Kinslayer… probably was, too." Loial let out a low, deep chuckle. "Elder Haman would be proud of me now. He always said I kept my head in travel books, but I listened sometimes."
Rand ran a hand through his hair, restless.
"All of that sounds very… poetic. But I don't see how it fits me. I have some ideas about why all this is happening to me, but still… it's ridiculous. And Mat and Perrin… they're just boys from a small village."
Loial tilted his head, his eyes shining with a mix of wisdom and gentleness.
"Even so, I could feel the Pattern twisting around you when you told your story. And mind you, I don't have any special Talent for it. But I feel it. You're ta'veren, Rand. You—and maybe your friends, too."
He paused, thoughtful, scratching the tip of his wide nose.
"Actually…" he said after a moment, with resolve, "I want to travel with you."
Rand's eyes widened.
"With me?!" he exclaimed, incredulous. "Did you hear what I said? Do you know who's chasing me?" He glanced at the door, as if expecting someone to be listening outside. "I'm not just running from soldiers… or thieves. There are older, darker forces behind me. And still, you want to come?"
"I heard you," Loial replied calmly. "And still, I want to come. There's a very beautiful grove in Tar Valon, and I've heard the Aes Sedai keep it well cared for. But… it's not just the trees I wish to see. Something is moving, Rand. Something big. And maybe… just maybe… you're another Artur Hawkwing. Perhaps the world is already beginning to shape itself around you. Even Elder Haman would want to see that happen."
Rand hesitated. The Ogier's presence was comforting. Mat had been unpredictable lately; being with him was, at times, like being alone. His only constant companion was his daughter, Helena, and even she sometimes grew bored of his silent presence. Having Loial around… might be good.
"I think… it might be a good idea, Loial. Even if Moiraine finds us here, we'll still be in danger all the way to Tar Valon." His eyes met Loial's. "Are you sure you want to come with me?"
Loial smiled kindly and placed a large hand on Rand's shoulder, squeezing gently.
"I'm sure. And as men say: in times of change, the wise traveler does not stay behind."
Rand nodded.
The inn's main hall was quieter than usual that afternoon. The smell of freshly baked bread still hung in the air, mixed with the slightly sweet aroma of the cheap wine served to merchants. Rand crossed the room with steady steps. Helena remained in the rooms upstairs, going over some records of maps and old property deeds they had gathered in the library.
He found Master Gill behind the counter, inspecting a cask with his usual suspicious look.
"Master Gill," Rand called, lowering his voice so no one else would pay attention.
Gill looked up and raised an eyebrow.
"You again, boy? That can't be a good sign."
"It's something important. Do you have a moment?"
Gill huffed, wiped his hands on a cloth, and gestured with his head.
"Come on. Let's go to my back room. At least there, there are no curious ears."
They walked down a narrow corridor to a door reinforced with thick planks. It was a small room, stone-walled, lit only by a lamp on the desk. When the door shut, the sounds of the inn vanished completely.
"Now talk," said Gill, pulling out a chair. "You've got the look of a man carrying half the world on his shoulders."
Rand sat down and pulled a yellowed, carefully folded parchment from inside his coat.
"I have a plan. And I need your help to make it work."
Gill eyed him sideways.
"You talk like a man about to start a war."
Rand gave a faint smile.
"Not yet. But I want to be ready when it comes."
He unfolded the parchment across the table and revealed a detailed map of a district south of Caemlyn's main market. He had marked in red all the properties that were abandoned or poorly maintained. Shops, houses, warehouses—forgotten corners of the city.
"This street here…" Rand ran a finger along the path. "I want to acquire as many properties in this stretch as I can. I need a safe point, out of sight from the guard, but still accessible. A place where we can regroup, hide allies, move supplies… or simply vanish if necessary."
Gill was silent for a long while. He picked up the map, brought it closer to the light, and examined every mark carefully.
"You realize this might attract attention?"
"That's why I'm being careful. I want to use your contacts to buy these properties. I'll pay double what they're worth—triple if needed, but I want it done fast." Rand leaned in. "I need you for this. No one knows this city like you do. I need you to introduce me to the right people… or tell me who owns these buildings."
"And what do you get out of it?" Gill asked, still skeptical.
"Security. For me. For my friends, when they arrive." He hesitated for a second. "And for Helena. I can't protect her if we're always on the run."
Gill sighed and leaned back in his chair, thoughtful.
"You talk like a leader. But you still look like a boy carrying more than he should."
"I didn't ask for this, Master Gill. But I won't back down now either."
The innkeeper stared at him for a moment, then gave a faint smile.
"Stubborn as a Two Rivers farmer… very well. Let's start with three names. They can help you buy these properties as fast as possible, but they'll demand a high price." He pointed to the marks on the map. "They own all the houses on this street. They don't sell to just anyone. And they'll try to bleed you dry if they think you have gold."
"Don't worry," Rand replied. "I've learned to look like a broken man, even when I've got gold hidden in my belt."
Gill chuckled, shaking his head.
"You're getting clever. That worries me a little."
"You can use false names, if you'd rather. I don't want any surprise visits once the place is up and running. And I don't want you exposed."
"Don't worry about me, lad. I can handle myself. But… why now? You're expecting your friends, aren't you?"
Rand nodded.
"They should arrive in a few days. And when they do… they'll need more than a warm meal and a bed."
Gill looked at the map again, then began folding it carefully.
"I'll take care of it. Quietly. But you owe me a good explanation when this all starts to take shape."
"I promise," Rand said, and for the first time in a long while, he spoke with full conviction.
When he returned to the rooms, Helena was still seated by the window, reading an old tome of trade records.
"Well?" she asked without looking up from the page.
"He agreed." Rand stepped closer and gently touched her shoulder. "It's beginning, daughter."
She looked up and smiled, serene.
"And when it's ready, Rand?"
"When it's ready…" he said, gazing beyond the window where the sky was already darkening, "...we'll have a safe harbor."