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The man turned. It was not a stranger. Not a stranger at all.
It was Tam. His father.
Rand stumbled back. Was this an apparition? Some twisted trick of the Dark One? But no, it was Tam. There was no mistaking the mans kindly eyes. Though he was a head shorter than Rand, Tam had always seemed more solid than the world around him. His broad chest and steady legs could not be moved, not because he was strong—Rand had met many men of greater strength during his travels. Strength was fleeting. Tam was real. Certain and stable. Just looking at him brought comfort.
But comfort clashed with who Rand had become. His worlds met— the person he had been, the person he had become—like a jet of water on a white-hot stone. One shattering, the other turning to steam.
Tam stood, hesitant, in the balcony doorway, lit by two flickering lamps on stands in the room. Rand understood Tarns hesitation. They were not blood father and son. Rands blood father had been Janduin, clan chief of the Taardad Aiel. Tam was just the man who had found Rand on the slopes of Dragonmount.
Just the man who had raised him. Just the man who had taught him everything he knew. Just the man Rand loved and revered, and always would, no matter what their blood connection.
"Rand. " Tarns voice was awkward.
"Please," Rand said through his shock. "Please sit. "
Tam nodded. He closed the balcony doors, then walked forward and took one of the chairs. Rand sat, too. They stared across the room at one another. The stone walls were bare; Rand preferred them unornamented with tapestries or paintings. The rug was yellow and red, and so large it reached to all four walls.
The room felt too perfect. A vase of freshly cut dara lilies and calima blossoms sat there, right where it should. Chairs in the center, arranged too correctly. The room didnt look lived m. Like so many places he stayed, it wasnt home. He hadnt truly had a home since hed left the Two Rivers.
Tam sat in one chair, Rand in another. Rand realized he still had the access key in his hand, so he set it on the sun-patterned rug before him. Tam glanced at Rands stump, but said nothing. He clenched his hands together, probably wishing he had something to work on. Tam was always more comfortable talking about uncomfortable things when he had something to do with his hands, whether it be checking the straps on a harness or shearing a sheep.
Light, Rand thought, feeling a sudden urge to enfold Tam in a hug. Familiarity and memories flooded back into his mind. Tam delivering brandy to the Winespring Inn for Bel Tine. The pleasure Tam took in his pipe. His patience and his kindness. His unexpected heron-mark sword. I know him so well. And yet Ive rarely thought of him recently.
"How . . . " Rand said. "Tam, how did you get here? How did you find me?"
Tam chuckled quietly. "Youve been sending nonstop messengers to all the great cities these last few days, telling them to marshal their armies for war. I think a man would have to be blind, deaf and drunk not to know where to find you. "
"But my messengers havent gone to the Two Rivers!"
"I wasnt in the Two Rivers," Tam said. "Some of us have been fighting alongside Perrin. "
Of course, Rand thought. Nynaeve must have contacted Perrin—the colors swirled—she was so worried about him and Mat. It would have been easy for Tam to come back with her.
Was Rand really having this conversation? He had given up on returning to the Two Rivers, on ever seeing his father again. It felt so good, despite the awkwardness. Tarns face held more lines than it had before, and the few determined streaks of black in his hair had finally given in and gone silver, but he was the same.
So many people had changed around Rand—Mat, Perrin, Egwene, Nynaeve—it was a wonder to meet someone from his old life who was the same. Tam, the man who had taught Rand to seek the void. Tam was a rock that seemed to him stronger than the Stone itself.
Rands mood darkened slightly. "Wait. Perrin has been using Two Rivers folk?"
Tam nodded. "He needed us. That boys put on a balancing act to impress any menagerie performer. What with the Seanchan and the Prophets men, not to mention the Whitecloaks and the queen—-"
"The queen?" Rand said.
"Aye," Tam said. "Though she says shes not queen anymore. Elaynes mother. "
"She lives, then?" Rand asked.
"She does, little thanks to the Whitecloaks," Tam said with distaste.
"Has she seen Elayne?" Rand asked. "You mentioned Whitecloaks— how did he run into Whitecloaks?" Tarn began to answer, but Rand held up a hand. "No. Wait. I can get a report from Perrin when I wish it. I will not have our time together spent with you acting the messenger. "
Tarn smiled faintly.
"What?" Rand asked.
"Ah, son," he said, shaking his head, broad hardworking hands clasped before him, "theyve really done it. Theyve gone and made a king out of you. What happened to the gangly boy, so wide-eyed at Bel Tine? Wheres the uncertain lad I raised all those years?"
"Hes dead," Rand said immediately.
Tam nodded slowly. "I can see that. You . . . must know then. . . . About. . . . "
"That youre not my father?" Rand guessed.
Tam nodded, looking down.
"Ive known since the day I left Emonds Field," Rand replied. "You spoke of it in your fever dreams. I refused to believe it for a time, but I was eventually persuaded. "
"Yes," Tam said. "I can see how. I. . . . " He gripped his hands together tightly. "I never meant to lie to you, son. Or, well, I guess I shouldnt call you that, should I?"
You can call me son, Rand thought. You are my father. No matter what some may say. But he couldnt force the words out.
The Dragon Reborn couldnt have a father. A father would be a weakness to be exploited, even more than a woman like Min. Lovers were expected. But the Dragon Reborn had to be a figure of myth, a creature nearly as large as the Pattern itself. He had difficulty getting people to obey as it was. What would it do if it were known that he kept his father nearby? If it were known that the Dragon Reborn relied upon the strength of a shepherd?
The quiet voice in his heart was screaming.
"You did well, Tam," Rand found himself saying. "By keeping the truth from me, you likely saved my life. If people had known that I was a foundling, and discovered near Dragonmount no less—well, word would have spread. I might very well have been assassinated as a child. "
"Oh," Tam said. "Well, then, Im glad I did it. "
Rand picked up the access key—it too brought him comfort—then stood. Tam hastily joined him, acting more and more like just another retainer or servant.
"You have done a great service, Tam alThor," Rand said. "By protecting and raising me, you have ushered in a new Age. The world owes you a debt. I will see that you are cared for the rest of your life. "
"I appreciate that, my Lord," Tam said. "But it isnt necessary. I have what I need. "
Was he hiding a grin? Perhaps it had been a pompous speech. The room felt stifling, and Rand turned, crossing the fine rug and throwing open the balcony doors again. The sun had indeed set, and darkness had fallen on the city. A crisp ocean breeze blew across him as he stepped out to the balcony railing, into the night.
Tam stepped up beside him.
"Im afraid I lost your sword," Rand found himself saying. It felt foolish.
"Thats all right," Tam said. "I dont know that I ever deserved the thing anyway. "
"Were you really a blademaster?"
Tam nodded. "I suppose. I killed a man who was one, did it in front of witnesses, but Ive never forgiven myself for it. Though it needed doing. "
"The ones that need to be done often seem the ones that we least like to have to do. "
"Thats the truth if Ive ever heard it," Tam said, sighing softly, leaning on the balcony railing. Lit windows were beginning to shine in the darkness below. "Its so strange. My boy, the Dragon Reborn. All of those stories I heard when travelin
g the world, Im part of them. "
"Think how it feels for me," Rand said.
Tam chuckled. "Yes. Yes, I suppose you understand exactly what I mean, dont you? Funny, isnt it?"
"Funny?" Rand shook his head. "No. Not, that. My life isnt my own. Im a puppet for the Pattern and the prophecies, made to dance for the world before having my strings cut. "
Tam frowned. "Thats not true, son. Er, my Lord. "
"I cant see it any other way. "
Tam crossed his arms on the smooth stone railing. "I guess I can understand. I remember some of those emotions myself, during the days when I was a soldier. You know that I fought against Tear? Youd think I would have painful memories, coming here. But one enemy often comes to seem like another. I dont bear any grudges. "
Rand rested the access key on the railing, but held it tightly. He did not lean down; he remained straight-backed.
"A soldier doesnt have a lot of choices for his own destiny either," Tarn said, tapping softly on the railing with an idle ringer. "More important men make all the decisions. Men, well, I guess men like you. "
"But my choices are made for me by the Pattern itself," Rand said. "I have less freedom than the soldiers. You could have run, deserted. Or at least gotten out by legal means. "
"And you cant run?" Tarn asked.
"I dont think the Pattern would let me," Rand said. "What I do is too important. It would just force me back in line. It has done so a dozen times already. "
"And would you really want to run?" Tam asked.
Rand didnt reply.
"I could have left those wars. But, at the same time, I couldnt have. Not without betraying who I was. I think its the same for you. Does it matter if you can run, when you know that youre not going to?"
"Im going to die at the end of this," Rand said. "And I have no choice. "
Tam stood up straight, frowning. In an instant, Rand felt that he was twelve years old again. "I wont have talk like that," Tam said. "Even if youre the Dragon Reborn, I wont listen to it. You always have a choice. Maybe you cant pick where you are forced to go, but you still have a choice. "
"But how?"
Tam laid a hand on Rands shoulder. "The choice isnt always about what you do, son, but why you do it. When I was a soldier, there were some men who fought simply for the money. There were others who fought for loyalty—loyalty to their comrades, or to the crown, or to whatever. The soldier who dies for money and the soldier who dies for loyalty are both dead, but theres a difference between them. One death meant something. The other didnt.
"I dont know if its true that youll need to die for this all to play out. But we both know you arent going to run from it. Changed though you are, I can see that some things are the same. So I wont stand any whining on the subject. "
"I wasnt whining—" Rand began.
"I know," Tam said. "Kings dont whine, they deliberate. " He seemed to be quoting someone, though Rand had no idea who. Oddly, Tam gave a brief chuckle. "It doesnt matter," Tam continued. "Rand, I think you can survive this. I cant imagine that the Pattern wont give you some peace, considering the service youre doing for us all. But youre a soldier going to war, and the first thing a soldier learns is that you might die. You may not be able to choose the duties youre given. But you can choose why you fulfill them. Why do you go to battle, Rand?"