"You said that they don't like being close to people."

He pulled off his shirt, exposing a muscled chest covered in curling brown hair. "There were too few birds today, too few creatures in the underbrush. Light burn that sky. Is that causing this, or is it something else?" He sighed, sitting down on their sleeping pallet.

"You're going to go… there?" Faile asked.

"Something's wrong," he repeated. "I need to learn what I can before the trial. There might be answers in the wolf dream."

The trial. "Perrin, I don't like this idea."

"You're angry about Maighdin."

"Of course I'm angry about Maighdin," she said. They'd been through Malden together, and she hadn't told Faile that she was the Queen of bloody Andor? It made Faile look like a fool—like a small-town braggart, extolling her skill with the sword in front of a passing blademaster.

"She didn't know if she could trust us," Perrin said. "She was fleeing one of the Forsaken, it seems. I'd have hidden myself, too."

Faile glared at him.

"Don't look at me like that," he said. "She didn't do it to make you look bad, Faile. She had her reasons. Let it go."

That made her feel a little better; it was so nice that he would stand up for himself now. "Well, it makes me wonder who Lini will turn out to be. Some Seanchan queen? Master Gill, the King of Arad Doman in hiding?"

Perrin smiled. "I suspect they're her attendants. Gill is who he says he is, at least. Balwer is probably having a fit for not having figured this out."

"I bet he did figure it out," Faile said, kneeling beside him. "Perrin, I meant what I said about this trial. I'm worried."

"I won't let myself be taken," he said. "I only said I'd sit through a trial and give them a chance to present evidence."

"Then what's the point?" Faile said.

"It gives me more time to think," he said, "and it might stop me from having to kill them. Their captain, Damodred—something about him smells better than many of the rest. Not rabid with anger or hate. This will get our people back and let me plead my side. It feels good for a man to be able to have his say. Maybe that's what I've needed, all this time."

"Well, all right," Faile said. "But in the future, please consider warning me of your plans."

"I will," he said, yawning and lying back. "In truth, it didn't occur to me until the last moment."

Faile kept her tongue with some difficulty. At least something good had come from that parley. She'd watched Berelain when she'd met Damodred, and she'd rarely seen a woman's eyes light up so brightly. Faile might be able to make use of that.

She looked down. Perrin was already snoring softly.

Perrin found himself sitting with his back against something hard and smooth. The too-dark, almost evil sky of the wolf dream boiled above the forest, which was a mixture of fir, oak and leatherleaf.

He stood up, then turned and looked at what he had been leaning against. A massive steel tower stretched toward the turbulent sky. Too straight, with walls that looked like a single piece of seamless metal, the tower exuded a completely unnatural feel.

I told you this place was evil, Hopper sent, suddenly sitting next to Perrin. Foolish cub.

"I didn't come here by choice," Perrin protested. "I woke here."

Your mind is focused on it, Hopper said. Or the mind of one to whom you are connected.

"Mat," Perrin said, without understanding how he knew. The colors didn't appear. They never did in the wolf dream.

As foolish a cub as yourself?

"Maybe more foolish."

Hopper smelled incredulous, as if unwilling to believe that was possible. Come, the wolf sent. It has returned.

"What has—"

Hopper vanished. Perrin followed with a frown. He now could easily catch the scent of where Hopper had gone. They appeared on the Jehannah Road, and that strange violet glass wall was there again, slicing the roadway in half, extending high in the air and into the distance in either direction. Perrin walked up to a tree. Its bare branches seemed trapped in the glass, immobile.

Hopper paced nearby. We have seen this thing before, he sent. Long, long ago. So many lives ago.

"What is it?"

A thing of men.

Hopper's sending included confused images. Flying, glowing discs. Impossibly tall structures of steel. Things from the Age of Legends? Hopper didn't understand their use any more than he understood the use of a horse cart or a candle.

Perrin looked down the roadway. He didn't recognize this section of Ghealdan; it must be farther toward Lugard. The wall had appeared in a different place than it had last time.

A thought occurring to him, Perrin moved down the roadway in a few jumping bursts. A hundred of paces away, he looked back and confirmed his suspicions. That glass didn't make a wall, but an enormous dome. Translucent, with a violet tint, it seemed to extend for leagues.

Hopper moved at a blur, coming to stand beside him. We must go.

"He's in there, isn't he?" Perrin asked. He reached out. Oak Dancer, Sparks and Boundless were near. Ahead, inside the dome. They responded with quick, frantic sendings, at hunt and being hunted.

"Why don't they flee?" Perrin asked.

Hopper sent confusion.

"I'm going to them," Perrin said, willing himself forward.

Nothing happened.

Perrin felt a stab of panic in his gut. What was wrong? He tried again, this time trying to send himself to the base of the dome.

It worked. He arrived in an eyeblink, that glasslike surface rising in a cliff face before him. It's this dome, he thought. It's blocking me. Suddenly, he understood the trapped feeling the wolves had sent. They couldn't get away.

Was that the purpose of this dome, then? To trap wolves so that Slayer could kill them? Perrin growled, stepping up to the surface of the dome. He couldn't pass in by imagining himself there, but perhaps he could he get through by more mundane means. He raised a hand, then hesitated. He didn't know what touching the surface would do.

The wolves sent images of a man in black and leather, with a harsh lined face and a smile curling on his lips as he launched arrows. He smelled wrong, so wrong. He also smelled of dead wolves.

Perrin couldn't leave them in there. No more than he could leave Master Gill and the others to the Whitecloaks. Furious at Slayer, he touched the surface of the dome.

His muscles suddenly lost strength. They felt like water, his legs unable to hold him up. He fell to the ground, hard. His foot was still touching the dome—passing through it. The dome appeared to have no substance.

His lungs no longer worked; inflating his chest was too difficult. Panicked, he imagined himself elsewhere, but it didn't work. He was trapped, as surely as the wolves!

A gray-silver blur appeared next to him. Jaws grabbed his shoulder. As Hopper pulled him free of the violet dome, Perrin immediately felt his strength return. He gasped for breath.

Foolish cub, Hopper sent.

"You'd leave them?" Perrin said, voice ragged.

Not foolish to dig in the hole. Foolish for not waiting for me in case hornets came out. Hopper turned toward the dome. Help me if I fall. He padded forward, then touched his nose to the dome. Hopper stumbled, but righted himself and continued on slowly. On the other side, he collapsed, but his chest continued to move.

"How did you do it?" Perrin asked, rising.

I am me. Hopper as he saw himself—which was identical to who he was. Also scents of strength and stability.