Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction / Fan Fiction ❯ 1/2 an Age ❯ A not so Empty Road ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: Ranma 1/2 belongs to Rumiko Takahashi and is published in the United States by Viz.  The Wheel of Time series, Randland and all of those characters belong to Robert Jordan, and the series is published by Tor books. (Mostly)  All other characters and series mentioned belong to their respective authors.   Author’s Notes: Heh, well, here’s the actual first chapter of Book One of 1/2 an Age. People mentioned that I had left a few things out in the Prologue about the end of the Age of Legends, well okay, I did.  I left out the Bore, and some of the Forsaken were not people who made the Bore to find the True Power.  Other questions were about Aiel.  Well I’m going to be including a glossary on my website that defines everything I’ve used in the story.  I’ll also be including a glossary at the end of each chapter to explain any Wheel of Time (or Ranma) terms I use in the chapter.  There were also a few questions about Nabiki turning into a Kitsune, well, heh, call it incentive for me to continue writing.  That was an intentional “plot hole”.  I wanted to leave my readers guessing.  However, I handled it all wrong during C&C.  As for the weave that Ranma did, well that was Balefire and it was Ranma’s first time channeling.  How, one might ask.  Well that... is a secret.   Anyways, without further ado, I give you:   **************************************** 1/2 an Age Book One: The Wild Horse Cometh By Ellf (ellfangor8) *************************************** Chapter One: A Not So Empty Road.   The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend.  Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the age that gave it birth comes again.  In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist.  The wind was not the beginning.  There are neither beginnings nor endings to the Wheel of Time, but it was a beginning.   Starting just below the ever-cloud surrounded peaks that bestowed the mountains their name, the wind blew out east, across the former beach of the Sand Hills (the ocean was eliminated in the Breaking of the World).  Down those hills it blew, into the Two Rivers, and into the complex forest that was Westwood, and passed over two unconscious bodies clad in clothing that was rather inappropriate for the weather.  No matter that spring should have already approached or that where they were before it was summer; the wind carried such an icy chill to it that it almost seemed to carry the prediction of snow.   Gusts continued to blow over Ranma Saotome and Akane Tendo, causing them to tremble repetitively.  Ranma curled his silk-clad body up into a ball, an unconscious effort to warm himself, and Akane seemed to be reaching out to hug something.  Perhaps she was looking for her pet piglet, Pchan, to use his warmth for herself, but unfortunately her piglet was neither here nor there, none could tell when or where that misguided piglet would show up.  However, it was unlikely that Akane would ever see the poor piglet again.    A particularly strong squall caused sapphire eyes to open.  Ranma shivered as he sat up, seeming to become more aware with each movement.  Looking around, he tried to get his bearings.  The only trees that had any green upon them were ones that kept leaf or needle through the winter; the rest were barren.  Ranma had nary a clue as to where he was.  Shivering once more, he looked around furiously for Akane.  Upon seeing her restored, albeit unconscious, body he breathed a sigh of relief.   “Damn, it’s cold out here.”  He walked over to Akane and felt for a pulse.  “Good, she’s alive, that fight wasn’t in vain.”  Leaning in close to her face he whispered, “Wake up, tomboy.”  Akane reached out again for Pchan, but rather than finding him she grasped her arms around Ranma’s neck and pulled him in close.  “Erk!”  Ranma’s arms were spread apart and his fingers were in warding positions.   Brown eyes opened and stared into blue.  The familiar gears were turning in Akane’s mind as she registered exactly who was this close to her. At this point in waking she couldn’t recall the events of the past few days.   “Ranma...” she gritted out, pulling back her fist, “You pervert!!!”  Akane struck Ranma square on the face and he slammed into a tree, causing it to splinter.   As he pulled himself out of the tree, Ranma muttered under his breath, “Yep, still an uncute tomboy.”  A little louder, he said, “I’ll have you know that it was you who grabbed me, Akane.”   “Oh, really, why would I grab a pervert like you?”   “Oh gee, I don’t know, why don’t you tell me, tomboy?”   “I wouldn’t have grabbed you if you weren’t so close to me! What did you think you were doing?!?”   “Well excuse me for trying to see if you were alright!”   “I can take care of myself!”   “Like you did with the Kinjakan?!”   Akane deflated at that statement, before her anger flared up again.  “And whose fault was it that I was there in the first place?! If you hadn’t picked that fight with Saffron...!”   “Damn it, Akane, you were almost killed!  If you had died...!”   “If I had... died?”  Akane looked at Ranma’s face, serious as ever, and her anger left her.  She studied over Ranma, and she noticed a katana in a blue scabbard at his side.   “Yeah, you could’ve died.  I don’t know what I woulda done had it happened.”   Akane paused and stared into her fiancé’s eyes and whispered, “Ranma...”  She looked back at the katana at his side.  “What’s that?”  She pointed directly at it.   Ranma glanced down at the katana.  He gripped the hilt and slowly lifted the sword and scabbard up into view.  Seeing the kanji on its side, he mouthed, “Gekkaja...”   “Wasn’t the Gekkaja a staff?”   Ranma nodded and then noticed the other engraved words upon the sword. “Caradier... That looks almost like English, but it’s too, I don’t know, too something, but I think it means...”
Ranma looked up at Akane and both spoke at the same time, “Ice Sword.”   Another gust blew by causing both teens to shiver, reminding them once again of the current climate.  Looking around, Ranma spotted something odd.  No more than twenty meters away on the road was a cloaked figure on horseback.  Both the horse and the rider were a dull black.  The rider’s cloak covered him completely from his head to the top of his boots, the cowl pulled tightly forward so that no part of his body showed.    The shadowed opening of the rider’s hood caught Ranma’s attention.  Though he could only see the faintest outline of a face, he felt as if he were staring directly into the rider’s eyes.  A feeling arose within Ranma, one similar to what he felt when a cat was near.  He could feel almost an aura of hatred for everything, for everyone, especially him originating from the rider.  Ranma could not tear his eyes away from the rider, no matter how hard he tried, but the sound of a breaking stick drew his eyes away from the spot for a second.   When he looked up, he saw neither horse nor rider.  One glance at Akane was all that Ranma needed to confirm whether she saw it too.  Her paled face with a bit of confusion mixed in did well to show that Akane saw the same thing.   “That rider...  Ranma, where’d he go?”   “I don’t know, Akane, I don’t know at all.”   “Why would someone be riding a horse out here in China?”   Ranma glanced around once more.  “Um... Akane, I think this ain’t China.”   “Oh... So, where are we then?”   “I don’t know, why are you looking to me for answers, tomboy?”   “Maybe because you were the one who was on a training trip for ten years!”   “Well, we never came here during our trip!”   “So we’re lost.”   Ranma sighed.  “Yes...  I feel like Ryoga.”   “Quit picking on him!”   “He ain’t here!  How could I be picking on him without him here?!”   “You just are!  Honestly...” Akane huffed.   Suddenly, the clip-clopping of horse hooves could be heard coming down the path that the two had taken their argument to the center of.  Both teens turned, fearing the reappearance of the rider, but to their relief, it was just a horse-drawn cart with a young man following the vehicle.  The young man couldn’t have been much older than Ranma or Akane themselves.  He stood about a foot taller than Ranma with his hair a sandy red.  On the other side of the cart was an older man, using a spear as a walking staff.  The man was a head shorter than the younger and had graying hair, and dark eyes.   *************************************************************   To say Rand al’Thor was jumpy would be an understatement.  The combination of the way the morning was: pale and dreary, along with the sighting of that rider whose cloak seemed untouched by the wind did well to put Rand at unease.  Only the reminder of the void seemed to calm him down.   Tam had taught Rand the technique when he was younger, and it did well to help him focus.  First one would picture a flame in his mind, next they would feed all of their emotions into the flame causing the user’s mind to empty, leaving what is known as the void. Be one with the void, Tam had said, and you can do anything.  An unorthodox technique for a shepherd to use, but the flame and the void technique had helped Tam al’Thor to win the archery contests in Emond’s Field every year at Bel Tine.   Looking back at his father, Rand was glad to see that Tam had not noticed his momentary loss of the void.    A few other farms were located out here in Westwood, so it was not too odd to see riders out on this trail every so often.  However, with the way this winter had been, driving wolves and bears to find other ways of eating (usually by dining on sheep, but occasionally they came after humans), farmers rarely left their houses.  So it came as a surprise as the sound of a girl and boy arguing began to echo down towards Rand.   A snort came from beside Tam, and he reached his hand down to steady Bela.  The mare gave the older man a questioning look, one that was mirrored by his son.   “I hear it too, lad.  Shall we see who’s arguing in this weather?”   Rand nodded.  Upon seeing his agreement, Tam clucked Bela once more into motion, and they continued down Quarry Road.  As they traveled, they noticed exactly who was arguing.   The two obviously were not from Emond’s Field.  From the look of their outlandish clothing, Rand thought that they might be from Taren Ferry, but he was not too sure.  People from that town were always said to be strange; however, as Rand approached, he noticed something more.  The two, a boy and a girl, were obviously younger than he himself was, and he was barely of marriageable age.   At first the boy drew Rand’s interest.  His red shirt was made out of a material so smooth that he could see a shine coming off of it even in the pale sun that was out. His black pants, seemingly made out of a similar fabric, were tied just above the boy’s ankles.  What drew Rand’s eyes most was the blue scabbard that hung at the stranger’s side.  Rand had only seen a sword being worn by merchants’ guards before, and those were completely of a different style than the one that this boy was wearing.  The boy held himself with a confidence that was almost palpable to even Rand.   A look at the girl told Rand two things.  One, she was of the same nationality as the boy, and two, she was angry.  The look on her face desperately reminded him of Alsbet Luhhan when she lost her temper.  The look on her face alone made Rand make a vow to himself to not anger this girl.  Other than that, Rand noticed that she was clad in a dress that barely reached her knees.  Rand idly wondered if she was cold before seeing both teens turn their heads towards the cart.   Their features softened, and suddenly seemed a lot more inviting to Rand.  Clutching his bow and keeping an arrow nocked, he followed the cart as Tam led Bela down the road.  When they were about ten spans away, Rand could hear the boy yelling to them.   “Oi!! Hello there!”  Seeing the boy wave, Rand could not help but smile.  The younger one’s attitude caused a bit of relief to stir at the edge of the void.  As they continued to approach the pair, Tam returned the greeting.   “Hello there, lad... lass...”    “Could you tell us where we are?  I think we’re a bit lost.”  The girl had a sweet voice, Rand noted, but he still pictured that face that she had made earlier when looking at her.  At least she didn’t seem to be angry all of the time.   “Not a problem at all, lass, this here is Westwood, just about a half-mile west of Emond’s Field.”   Rand watched the pair as they pondered the answer that his father gave.  How anyone could end up in Westwood without knowing where they were, or passing through Emond’s field was beyond him.  With the Sand Hills and the Mountains of Mist to the west, the Taren to the north, and the White River and Forest of Shadow to the south, it was highly unlikely for them to have gotten here by losing themselves.  No matter, they said they were lost, who was Rand to question them?   The boy seemed contemplative before asking his question.  “We wouldn’t happen to be near Joketsuzoku, would we?”   “Joke ehts zoke, lad?  I’m sorry, but I haven’t heard of a place like that.  Where do you hail from?”  Rand looked at his father, knowing that the same idea had passed through his head.   The boy snorted, “That’s an easy one, I’m from Tokyo, ya know, in Japan..?”   “Tokeeoh, you say?  Sorry again, lad, I’ve never heard of that place, nor Japan.  Maybe the mayor has some maps that you can look at.  You two are welcome to follow us.”   The girl bowed to Tam before smiling.  “Thank you for your kindness, sir.”   “It’s no trouble at all, lass.  In any case, I guess I should be introducing myself.  I am Tam al’Thor, and this is my son, Rand.”  Tam gestured back at Rand who waved a little before returning to his watching duties.   The boy smirked as he confidently introduced himself, “I’m Ranma Saotome, of the Saotome School of Anything Goes Martial Arts.”   His companion introduced herself as well.  “And I’m Akane Tendo, of the Tendo School of Anything Goes Martial Arts.”   The void wavered as those introductions came out.  Confusion lapped at its edges as Rand contemplated what the two had said.  A martial art?  An art of war?  Perhaps these two were more dangerous than he thought, but they seemed to give a feeling of peace with their eyes, unlike that black cloaked rider.  No matter what his father had said, he knew that hatred was real.   “A pleasure to meet you both.  As I said, feel free to follow us to town.  We should get moving anyways; this brandy isn’t going to deliver itself, and I could use a warm ale.”   Upon seeing Ranma and Akane nod, Tam clucked Bela into motion once more, and the pair of martial artists fell in stride with Rand.  Rand once more turned his focus on looking back.  He kept looking back until the four of them had reached the thatched roofs of Emond’s Field.   The village actually seemed to go into Westwood a bit.  Ranma and Akane noticed the thinning of the forest until the sparsest trees were in between the houses.  The land itself sloped down, a testament to the mountains to the west.  Beyond the village to the east, and until Waterwood and the Mire, Ranma and Akane could see the various farms and pastures that covered the land in patchwork.  Not that they knew the names of the forests and such, but those are the names.   As they entered the village, Ranma and Akane looked on in respect.  They had seen bigger, but Emond’s field was quaint.  Children would run up to the cart every so often and run alongside it.  After the winter, it would seem that they were anxious to make up for lost playtime, and Bel Tine was just the occasion to do it.  Looking around, Ranma noticed that the various goodwives were doing their cleaning, with rugs hanging outside.  Bel Tine was approaching and no goodwife would let it get there without their spring cleaning being done first.  Up on the rooftops, their husbands were checking the thatch to survey the winter’s damage and see if they needed to call Cenn Buie, the thatcher.    Along the way, Ranma and Akane noticed Tam stop to talk with a few men.  Not many from Westwood had been to town recently, and the people wanted to hear the news.  Tam spoke of the damage from the winter storms, of stillborn lambs, and of brown pastures that should be green by now.  He spoke of ravens showing up when songbirds should be there instead.    Many men just clapped Tam on the shoulder at that and said, “We’ll survive, Light willing.”  A few men added to that with a smile, “And even if the Light doesn’t will it, we’ll survive.”  Two Rivers people were like that, they always were survivors.  That was usually the point when they noticed Ranma and Akane.  When asked about Ranma and Akane, Tam told them that they were just wanderers that got lost coming down from Taren Ferry, and he wanted to help them out.   Tam would not have stopped for Wit Congar had the man not come out into the center of the road where Tam would have to halt Bela or run the plumb fool over.  The Coplins and the Congars; those two families were so intermarried that none knew where one family ended and the other began, were known from Deven Ride to Watch Hill as complainers and troublemakers. (Perhaps in Taren Ferry too, but none from the lower Two Rivers knew how people in Taren Ferry thought, they were all strange.)   “I have to get this to Bran al’Vere, Wit.”  Tam gestured to the barrels in the cart, but the gaunt man stood his ground with a bitter look on his face.  He was sprawled out on his front steps rather than up on his roof, but his roof looked like it was long overdue for Cenn Buie to come to it.  That’s just how the Congars and Coplins were; they would start something and not finish it, unless they were worse.  Ranma rolled his eyes at the obvious idiot.  Akane was holding her head and looking at the ground.  Rand could swear he heard a muttered word that sounded like “Baka...” come from the girl.   “What are we going to do about Nynaeve, al’Thor?” Wit challenged.  “We can’t have a Wisdom like that for Emond’s Field.”   Ranma slunk over to Rand while Wit was speaking with Tam.  “Psst... Rand-san, what’s a Wisdom?”   Rand nearly jumped out of his skin at Ranma’s words.  He had been focusing on his father’s conversation.  Now how to explain what a Wisdom was to an Outlander.  Well, it would help if he knew some of the culture from the boy’s homeland; he’d have to try his best to explain it.  “The Wisdom... ah.... erm... the Wisdom she’s a Healer... she works with herbs and things and makes the sick better.  She also holds weight within the Women’s Circle of the town.”   Unnoticed by Rand, Akane was listening to the conversation as well.  Well it would have been unnoticed had she not said, “Oh, so she’s like a doctor.”   Rand started in surprise, but calmed at her words.  “A doctor?  If a doctor is a healer, then yes...  I suppose.”   “So, I take it these Wisdom people, they can only be girls?”   Rand nodded at Ranma’s question before the three of them turned back towards Wit and Tam.    "What business of yours is the Wisdom, Wit Congar?" roared a woman's voice. Wit flinched as his wife marched out of the house. Daise Congar was twice as wide as Wit, a hard-faced woman without an ounce of fat on her. She glared at him with her fists on her hips. "You try meddling in Women's Circle business, and see how you like eating your own cooking. Which you won't do in my kitchen. And washing your own clothes and making your own bed. Which won't be under my roof."   "But, Daise," Wit whined, "I was just…”   “If you’ll pardon me, Daise.” Tam said. “Wit, the Light shine on you both.”  He got Bela moving again, and gestured for the three youths to follow him.  Tam led the mare around the scrawny fellow before his wife could notice exactly who he was talking to.   There was a reason that the group hadn’t accepted any of the invitations to stop for a meal or to get anything hot to drink, though Ranma and Akane looked as if they needed it.  The reason was that the goodwives always thought they could find the perfect wife for a widower with a good farm, even if the farm was in Westwood.   Ranma and Akane noticed that Rand seemed to be walking the same speed, if not faster than Tam.  There was a reason for this too.  Rand would get cornered when Tam was not around with no way to escape outside of being rude.  He would be led to a kitchen stool next to the fire and fed meatpies, honeycakes, pastries, etc...  And the goodwives would pester him about his father.  Tam wasn’t getting any younger, they would say, and then mention that he needed a woman in his life.  The worst times were when the goodwives would, ever so casually, ask exactly how old Tam was.   Like most Two Rivers folk, Rand had a strong stubborn streak.  He hated to be pushed or prodded into anything.  In a way, he was like Ranma and Akane.  So he walked faster and hoped that Tam would hurry Bela along.     Soon the road opened up into the Green, which was a big open area at the village center.  Now was a time for Ranma and Akane to gasp in awe.  Even though the Green was mostly covered with brown, dead grass and barren ground, the activity upon it was of interest.  Over in the distance was the bridge that separated the North Road which led to Watch Hill and the Old Road which led to Deven Ride.  On either side of the bank of the Winesprig, mounds for the Bel Tine fires were being built, and whatever activities that weren’t around the fires would be on the Green.   Ranma and Akane, being outsiders, knew nothing of the customs here and thus watched as a group of older women sang and erected the Spring Pole.  It was a fir tree trunk without its branches that stood ten feet high, even in the pole that the women had dug for it.  A little ways away, a cluster of girls too young to have their hair braided sat cross-legged and watched the older women jealously; occasionally they would sing snippets of the songs that the older women would sing.   According to the custom of Bel Tine, in the morning the men would be surprised at the Spring Pole, and at noon all the unmarried women would dance around it while the unmarried men sang.  None knew how this custom started, just that it had always been there, and it was an excuse to sing and dance.  People of the Two Rivers didn’t need much of an excuse for that.   Bel Tine would be taken up by dancing, singing and feasting.  Time would also be taken out for footraces and other contests.  Prizes wouldn’t only be given for archery, but for the best with a sling or with a quarterstaff.  Ranma and Akane sure picked the best time of the year to arrive in Emond’s Field, even if it wasn’t their fault.   Bel Tine was supposed to come when spring had truly arrived; when the first lambs had been born and when the first crops had started to sprout.  However, a lack of green wouldn’t stop the people of Emond’s Field from celebrating it this year.  Everyone in the town could stand for a little singing and dancing, and there was a rumor circulating around about a fireworks display in the Green later- if the first peddler of the year would arrive in time, that is.   At the east end of the Green stood the Winesprig Inn.  Its first story was built of river rock, but the foundation was made of an older stone that some said came from the mountains.  The white-washed second floor, which was where Brandelwyn al’Vere, innkeeper and mayor of Emond’s Field for the past twenty years, lived in back of with his wife and daughters, extended out over the lower floor all the way around the inn.  The roof’s red tiles, the only roof in the village like that, shimmered in the pale sunlight, and there was smoke coming out of three of the twelve chimneys.   To the south of the inn stretched the remains of a stone foundation.  Some said that it was once part of the inn.  In the center of it grew an oak tree that extended thirty paces around, and it spread branches thick as a man.    “Here we are, you three.” Tam said as he reached for Bela’s harness, but the mare stopped in front of the inn before his hands could even touch the leather.  “Knows the way better than I do.” Tam chuckled.   As the last creak of an axle sounded, Bran al’Vere stepped out of the inn.  Ranma noted that for his girth, which was double that of any he had seen in the village, he stepped lightly.  Perhaps he had training of some kind.  A smile divided the man’s round face which was topped off by a tuft of gray hair.  The innkeeper was wearing just shirtsleeves and an apron despite the fact that it was cold, and around his neck hung a silver medallion in the form of balance scales.   The medallion, along with a full-size set of scales that were used when merchants came down from Baerlon to trade for wool or tabac, was the symbol for the Mayor’s office.  Bran wore it only when dealing with merchants or on festivals, feastdays, and weddings. He had it on a day early now, but that night was Winternight when people would be stopping at every house all night long to get a drink or a bite to eat.  Perhaps Bran thought that Winternight was a good excuse to wear it early this year, especially with the way the winter was.   “Tam,” The mayor shouted as he hurried towards them. “The Light shine on me, it’s good to see you at last.  And you, Rand, how are you boy?”   “Fine Master al’Vere,” Rand replied. “And you sir?”  But Bran’s attention shifted to the other two people who were standing there.   “Well Tam, it looks like you picked up a couple of strays on your way in to town.”   Ranma started at that before he heard Tam’s answer.  “You could say that, it would seem this lad and lass got lost in Westwood on their way down from Taren Ferry.”   “Lost in Westwood, you say?  Well, allow me to introduce myself proper to you two, I am Brandelwyn al’Vere, innkeeper of this fine establishment, and Mayor of Emond’s Field.”   “I’m Ranma Saotome of the Saotome school of Anything Goes Martial Arts, Master al’Vere.”   “And I’m Akane Tendo of the Tendo school of Anything Goes Martial Arts.”   “Martial Arts you say?  Hmm... Well, if you two are lost, I can show you some maps and perhaps direct you to where you need to go, I’ll show them to you after we get this business Master al’Thor and I have together through.”   Both teens nodded, but Bran’s attention was already back on Tam.  “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t be bringing your brandy this year.  You’ve never waited so late before.”   “I’ve no liking for leaving the farm these days, Bran,” Tam responded. “Not with the wolves the way they are.  And the weather.”   Bran harrumphed. “I could wish somebody wanted to talk about some- thing besides the weather. Everyone complains about it, and folk who should know better expect me to set it right. I've just spent twenty minutes explaining to Mistress al’Donel that I can do nothing about the storks. Though what she expected me to do....” He shook his head.   “An ill omen,” an abrasive voice proclaimed, “no storks resting on the rooftops at Bel Tine.”  Cenn Buie, twisted and as dark as an old root, strode right up to Tam and Bran and leaned on his walking staff, nearly as tall as he was and just as gnarled.  He tried to fix each of the men with a beady eye, but couldn’t seem to do it properly.  “There’s more to come, you mark my words.”   “Have you become a soothsayer, then, interpreting omens?" Tam wryly questioned "Or do you listen to the wind, like a Wisdom? There's certainly enough of it. Some originating not far from here.”   “Mock if you will,” Cenn mumbled, “but if it doesn't warm enough for crops to sprout soon, more than one root cellar will come up empty before there's a harvest. By next winter there may be nothing left alive in the Two Rivers but wolves and ravens. If it is next winter at all. Maybe it will still be this winter.”   Ranma cleared his throat, causing the older men to look at him.  “Wait, so it shouldn’t be this cold?  What did the weatherman say about it?”   All three men stared at the youth in confusion.  Cenn then barked out, “No, lad, it should NOT be this cold at Bel Tine.  Who are you anyways?  You and that girl there, you two are obviously not from anywhere in the Two Rivers.”   “Honestly, am I going to have to keep introducing myself today?  I’m Akane, he’s Ranma, and we mean no disrespect, sir, but we would like to help Master al’Thor-san get done with what he has to do so we can see the maps.”   “You two look barely old enough to be off your mothers’ apron strings, and–”   “Now Cenn, I’ll not have you be bothering these two, they’re just a little lost.” Bran gave the man a glare that held all the weight of the Mayor’s office in it. “Now what were you saying about the winter?”   “Exactly... the Winter, ask the Wisdom when it’s going to end she just runs off.  Maybe she doesn’t want to tell us what she hears on the wind.  Maybe what she hears is that the winter won’t end.  Maybe it’s just going to keep being winter until the wheel turns and there is a new Age.”   “Maybe sheep will fly.” Tam sarcastically retorted and Bran threw up his hands in annoyance.  “The Light protect me from fools.  You’re sitting on the Village Council, Cenn and now you’re spreading that Coplin talk.  Well you listen to me.  We have enough problems without...”   At that point Ranma and Akane stopped paying attention.  Well, Ranma did anyways.  He overheard another voice and felt another presence beside the cart, and sure enough, there, his wiry body bent like a stork trying to twist itself in double, was Matrim Cauthon.   His brown eyes sparkled with mischief as Ranma approached and began to listen in on what he was saying to Rand.  “...old badger, all grouchy at being pulled out of his den.  We’re going to let it loose on the Green and watch the girls run.”   Ranma watched as Rand’s smile broadened before hearing him say in a low tone, “I promised to unload the cider, I’ll meet you later though.”   Ranma smirked before saying, “I wouldn’t release the badger anyways, if Akane found out who did it, she’d likely go ballistic.”   Mat nearly jumped out of his skin at hearing Ranma’s voice.  Luckily for him, he managed to calm himself quickly.  “Ah, erm... excuse me...”   Ranma chuckled.  “Name’s Ranma and you are?”   Mat seemed to gain a little more eloquence, not much, but it was better than stuttering.  “I’m Matrim Cauthon, but you can call me Mat.”  Mat seemed to finally calm down before grinning again.  “Anyways, I know of better things than a badger.  We have strangers in Emond’s Field, other than those two.”   Rand’s face paled.  “A man on horseback?” he asked intently.  “A man in a black cloak with a black horse?  And his cloak doesn’t move in the wind?”   Mat’s grin seemed to be wiped from his face.  “You saw him too?  I thought I was the only one.  Don’t laugh Rand, but he scared me.”   “I’m not laughing.  He scared me too.  I could swear that he hated me, that he wanted to kill me.” Ranma looked at Mat and looked back at Rand.  “I saw the rider too.  I ain’t got a reason to laugh at you guys for being scared of him.  He was creepier than most of the guys I’ve faced.”   Rand locked eyes with Ranma.  “Light, you too?”  Ranma nodded as Mat started speaking again. “I don't know about hating, Rand, but he was scary enough anyway. All he did was sit on his horse looking at me, just outside the village, but I've never been so frightened in my life. Well, I looked away, just for a moment - it wasn't easy, mind you - then when I looked back he'd vanished. Blood and ashes! Three days, it's been, and I can hardly stop thinking about him. I keep looking over my shoulder.” Mat tried to laugh but instead it came out as a croak. “Funny how being scared takes you. You think strange things. I actually thought - just for a minute, mind – it might be the Dark One.”   Rand closed his eyes and recited, by rote if by nothing else.  “The Dark One and all of the Forsaken are bound in Shayol Ghul, beyond the Great Blight, bound by the Creator at the moment of Creation, bound until the end of time. The hand of the Creator shelters the world, and the Light shines on us all.”  He drew in a breath before going on.  “Besides, even if he were free, what would he be doing down here in the Two Rivers spying on a couple of farm boys?”   “But he wasn’t just watching you two, remember, Akane and I saw him too.  And we’re martial artists, not farm boys.  Though Kami-sama knows how much of a tomboy Akane is.”  Ranma interjected, in the same level voice as the other two so that Akane wouldn’t notice.  “Question is, why was he watching us at all?”   “I don’t know, but I just know that rider was evil, Don’t laugh. I’ll take an oath on it, maybe it was the Dragon.” Mat solemnly replied.   Ranma didn’t laugh, but a slight snicker did escape from his mouth.  “Mat-san, that rider ain’t a dragon, might be part dragon, but he ain’t one.  He did feel evil though...”   Rand wanted to start speaking before Ranma that time, but was interrupted.  “You’re just full of cheerful thoughts today, aren’t you Mat?” Rand muttered in a grim undertone.  “You sound worse than Cenn.”   “My mother always said the Forsaken would come for me if I didn't mend my ways. If I ever saw anybody who looked like Ishamael, or Aginor, it was him.”   “Everybody’s parents scared them with tales of the Forsaken,” Rand commented dryly, “most grow out of it. Why not the Shadowman while you’re at it?”   Mat glared at his friend.  “I haven't been so scared since . . . No, I've never been that scared, and I don't mind admitting it.”   "Me either. My father thinks I was jumping at shadows under the trees.”   Ranma glanced at the two older boys.  “That rider definitely was real.  I know it.”   Mat nodded solemnly before leaning back against the cart wheel.  “My da thinks the same of me, Rand.  I told Dav, and Elam Dowtry. They've been watching like hawks ever since, but they haven't seen anything. Now Elam thinks I was trying to trick him. Dav thinks he's down from Taren Ferry – a sheepstealer, or a chickenthief. A chickenthief!”   “It's probably all foolishness anyway," Rand said finally. "Maybe he is just a sheepstealer.”   “Well, I didn't like the way he looked at me. And neither did you, not if how you jumped at me is any guide. We ought to tell someone.”   "We already have, Mat, both of us, and we weren't believed. Can you imagine trying to convince Master al'Vere about this fellow, without him seeing him? He'd send us off to Nynaeve to see if we were sick."   “There are two- no, four of us, now. Nobody could believe we all imagined it.”   Rand scratched his head, apparently thinking it over.  Mat was known by most of the village as a troublemaker and a prankster.  Doubtless most everyone in the village had been the subject of one of his pranks before.  Now his name came up whenever a washline fell and dropped laundry in the dirt or a farmer fell off his horse because the saddle had a loose girth.  Mat didn’t even have to be around.  His support might be worse than having none.  Now the other two who said they saw it, Ranma and Akane, well, they were outlanders.  Most people from Emond’s Field would believe them, save Cenn Buie and the Coplins and Congars; however, they were younger than he was.   “Your father would think you put me and these two up to it, and mine...”  Rand glanced over to where Tam and Bran were standing only to find himself looking directly into his father’s eyes.  Akane was standing right behind Tam, solemn as a mouse.  A wide grin split Tam’s face as he began to speak.   “Good morning Matrim,” Tam said cheerily as he lifted one of the brandy casks out of the cart. “I see you’ve come to help unload the cider. Good lad.”   Mat was on his feet faster than one could sneeze and immediately began to back away.  “Good morning to you, Master al'Thor. And to you, Master al'Vere. Master Buie. May the Light shine on you. My da sent me to-”   “No doubt he did,” Tam interrupted.  “And no doubt since you are a lad who does his chores right off, you’ve already finished the task already.  It shouldn’t take too long anyways, if young Ranma here would like to help.”   “It ain’t no trouble, Master al’Thor-san.  I’ll help these two to unload.”   A clearing of a throat came from Akane, standing behind Tam.  “And what am I, chopped liver?  I could help tote the casks too!”   Ranma grinned.  “Yeah, Master al’Thor-san, Akane’s really strong.  Strong as a gorilla and twice as thick.”   “Ranma...” Akane’s face began to redden.   “Heck with her brutish strength she could probably take all of the barrels in at once.”   “No...” Akane’s trademark mallet began to flicker in her hand.   “Though as clumsy as the uncute tomboy is, she would probably drop them all on the way in.”   “BAKA!!”  In the time it takes to blink an eye, Akane was over by Ranma and struck him with her mallet on his head. The pigtailed boy fell to the ground and twitched for a few seconds before getting up.   “Light burn me, lad, are you alright?”  Bran al’Vere turned towards Ranma as he climbed to his feet.   “Ah, that was nothing.  Most times the Tomboy hits me harder than that.  I guess the cold must be getting to her.”  Ranma glanced over at Tam while rubbing his head, and then saw Mat and Rand who stared at the pair of martial artists like dead fish.  “See, what’d I tell you, Master al’Thor-san?  Strong as a gorilla.”   Tam came out of his shock and worry for the child’s safety.  “Well lad, I guess you proved your point; Akane can help.  Besides, the faster this gets done, the faster you all can see the gleeman.”   "Gleeman!" Mat exclaimed, snapping out of his shock, at the same instant that Rand asked, "When will he get here?"   “Foolishness,” grumbled Cenn Buie, but he stopped when Bran gave him another glare that held all of the weight of the Mayor’s office in it.   Tam leaned against the cart using one of the brandy casks as an armrest.   "Yes, a gleeman, and already here. According to Master al'Vere, he's in a room in the inn right now. "   Ranma began to grin.  He didn’t know what a gleeman was, but if one could cause this much excitement to rise from the two boys, he might be worth seeing.   “Arrived in the dead of night, he did.” Bran shook his head in displeasure.  “Pounded on the front door till he woke the whole family. If not for Festival, I'd have told him to stable his own horse and sleep in the stall with it, gleeman or not. Imagine coming in the dark like that.”   Ranma could not imagine, could not know that none around these parts traveled beyond the village at night, could not know that they would certainly not do it alone.  The thatcher once again could be heard muttering under his breath, but the only words that Ranma could make out were “madman” and “unnatural.”   “He doesn’t wear a black cloak does he?” Mat suddenly asked.  Bran’s large belly shook as he chuckled politely.  “Black! His cloak is like every gleeman’s cloak I’ve ever seen.  More patches than cloak, and more colors than you can think of.”   Rand began to laugh out loud, and Ranma and Akane soon joined him.  The idea of a gleeman (whatever that was) as the black cloaked rider was preposterous, and the fact that he wasn’t it was very relieving.  Immediately afterwards, Rand clapped his hand over his mouth, turning red with embarrassment.  Ranma and Akane calmed down shortly afterwards.   “You see, Tam,” Bran stated. “There's been little enough laughter in this village since winter came. Now even the gleeman's cloak brings a laugh. That alone is worth the expense of bringing him down from Baerlon.”   “Say what you will,” Cenn suddenly spoke up. “I still say it's a foolish waste of money. And those fireworks you all insisted on sending off for.”   “So there are fireworks,” Mat said while Ranma grinned, but Cenn went right on talking. “They should have been here a month ago with the first peddler of the year, but there hasn't been a peddler, has there? If he doesn't come by tomorrow, what are we going to do with them? Hold another Festival just to set them off? That's if he even brings them, of course.”  Ranma frowned, it would seem this village was having more trouble than he thought when they first approached it.  However, this Cenn Buie just seemed to be a complainer, and Ranma was tempted to pull what his father would in the situation.  However, saying “Suck it up, boy, you want to be a weak girl?” didn’t really seem to cut it here, especially with the way Cenn was acting.  Besides it was fun watching the adults argue rather than it being him and Akane.   “Cenn”, Tam sighed, “You've as much trust as a Taren Ferry man.”   “Where is he, then? Tell me that, al'Thor.”   “Why didn't you tell us?” Mat demanded in an aggrieved voice. “The whole village would have had as much fun with the waiting as with the gleeman. Or almost, anyway. You can see how everybody's been over just a rumor of fireworks.”   “Maybe they wanted it to be a surprise, Mat-san.  Fireworks are a nice thing to have around.  Rumor is rumor, if they had known-” Ranma glanced at the older boy.   “I can see,” Bran replied with a sidelong look at the thatcher. “And if I knew for sure how that rumor started... if I thought, for instance, that somebody had been complaining about how much things cost where people could hear him when the things are supposed to be secret...”   Cenn cleared his throat. “My bones are too old for this wind. If you don't mind, I'll just see if Mistress al'Vere won't fix me some mulled wine to take the chill off. Mayor. Al'Thor.” He started heading towards the inn before he finished speaking, and as the door shut behind him, Bran sighed.   “Sometimes I think Nynaeve is right about... Well, that's not important now. You young fellows think for a minute. Everyone's excited about the fireworks, true, and that's only at a rumor. Think how they'll be if the peddler doesn't get here in time, after all their anticipating.  And with the weather the way it is, who knows when he will come. They'd be fifty times as excited about a gleeman.”   “And feel fifty times as bad if he hadn't come,” Rand said slowly. “Even Bel Tine might not do much for people's spirits after that.”  Akane nodded at that, it made sense.   “You have a head on your shoulders when you choose to use it,” Bran said. “He'll follow you on the Village Council one day, Tam. Mark my words. He couldn't do much worse right now than someone I could name.”   “None of this is unloading the cart,” Tam said abruptly, giving the first cask of brandy to the Mayor. “I want a warm fire, my pipe, and a mug of your good ale.” He lifted the second brandy cask up, placing it upon his shoulder.. “I'm sure Rand will thank you for your help, Matrim.  And of course the two of you as well. Remember, the sooner the cider is in the cellar...”   “Oh, and when the two of you do manage to come into the common room, I’ll have some maps ready for you to look at.”   “Thank you, Master al’Vere-san.  I’ll make sure these baka boys don’t spill anything.”   “Hey, who you callin’ a baka, tomboy?”   “I’m calling you one, pervert!”   “Uncute!”   “Aquatransexual!& #8221;   “Clumsy!”   Soon both younger teens were pulling down their eyelids and sticking their tongues out at each other.  Meanwhile Bran and Tam headed into the inn.  Mat and Rand glanced at each other, and spoke conspiratorially to each other.    “How can they go from being so polite one minute to arguing the next?”  Mat asked.   “I don’t know, but remember, they are outlanders.  At least she didn’t hit him this time.” Rand said with an almost forced smile.  “You really don’t have to help me if you don’t want to, Dav won’t keep that badger long.”

“Oh why not?” Mat said with a sigh.  “Like your da said, the quicker it's in the cellar... Besides we have those two to help us.” Turning towards them, he shouted, “HEY!  We do have work to do!”  He picked up a cask of cider with both hands and headed towards the inn in an almost trot.  “Maybe Egwene is around.  Watching you stare at her like a poleaxed ox will be as good as a badger anytime.”   Ranma and Akane walked back towards the cart, finished with their argument for now.  Ranma waved his hands in front of Rand’s face upon seeing him freeze.  “Uh... Rand-san, we do have some work to do.”  The pigtailed martial artist effortlessly lifted one of the casks onto his shoulder, and Akane mirrored his actions.  Rand took up a cask and the group of four headed into the inn.   As the four of them took their first barrels through the common room, Master al’Vere was already filling a pair of mugs with his best ale, one of his own make.  It came from one of the casks against one of the walls in the room.  Ranma specifically got nervous when he entered the common room and hurried his step up a bit.  A glance at the top of the cask where the innkeeper was could explain Ranma’s condition, a yellow cat belonging to the inn named Scratch lay crouched there, with his tail wrapped around his feet.  Lucky for Ranma the evil thing was asleep, otherwise Ranma would be a wee bit more nervous.   The common room housed more people than any of the Emond’s Fielders expected to be in there on this day.  Not only were Bran and Tam in there, but as were four more members of the Village Council, smoking pipes before the fire.  Some of them were tapping pipestreams against their teeth, and none of them spoke.  They were waiting for Bran and Tam to join them.   Only two of the men at the fire so much as glanced at the boys and girl as they passed through the common room.  Haral Luhhan, the blacksmith and Jon Thane, the miller, however Master Luhhan made it much more than a glance.  The blacksmith was built much as all smiths are, arms as thick as most men’s legs, with heavy muscles rippling down them.  He was still dressed in leather too, as if he hurried straight from the forge for this meeting alone.  His frown was directed at both of the boys from the village, and then he deliberately straightened up in his chair, and directed his attention to the pipe.   Ranma of course, hurried out of the room, and asked the nearest person to direct him to the cellar.  He wanted to get the job done.  Shivering, he walked at a brisk pace back towards the common room, just as Rand, Mat and Akane were walking in from there, and then suddenly, the aroma of bread filled the air as Mistress al’Vere burst out from the kitchens.   On her tray were some of her famous crusty loaves along with some plates of cheese and pickles.  The aroma and the sight caused a common reaction within Ranma...  his stomach growled.    “Oh, goodness,” Mistress al’Vere said with a smile.  “There’s more of this in the kitchen if you all are hungry, I never knew boys your age to not be.  Or any other age for that matter.  Girls your age as well, dearie.” She said with a wink to Akane.  “Or if you prefer, I’m baking honeycakes this morning.”   Without waiting for the group to reply, she carried the tray into the common room.  Within it, the sound of scraping chairs could be heard as men stood up to examine the source of the wonderful wafting aroma.  Mistress al’Vere was easily the best cook in Emond’s Field, and there was no man for miles who would not leap eagerly for a chance to be seated at her table.   “Honeycakes...” Mat said, smacking his lips.   “Later... or we’ll never get done.” Rand glanced directly in his friend’s eyes.   “Honeycakes sound good...” Ranma’s stomach growled once more as he envisioned food.   “Work first, baka!”  Somehow Akane had managed to elbow Ranma in the gut while keeping the cask of brandy on her shoulder.   “Alright, alright, I’m doin’ it.” Ranma added silently, “Uncute tomboy.”   This time it was Rand doing the leading to the cellar.  A lamp hung over its stairway, located just next to the kitchen doors, and another made a bright pool of light in the room beneath the inn whose walls were made of stone.  Racks of wood along the walls held casks of brandy and cider, and larger barrels of ale and wine, some with taps driven into them.  Many of the wine barrels were marked by Bran al’Vere’s own hand, giving the year they had been bought, what peddler had brought them, and in which city they had been made.  However, all the brandy and ale was made by the Two Rivers farmers or by Bran himself.  Sometimes peddlers and merchants would bring brandy and ale from outside, but it was never as good, and was bloody expensive.  Though Rand would never use that expletive in front of the Wisdom.   Ranma decided to take in the cellar this time, and he did so with awe.  Picking up the barrel he had carelessly left on the floor next to a rack, he turned to Rand.  “Rand-san, where should I put this?”  The older boy led Ranma and Akane to an empty section of the rack and pointed where they should lay down the casks.   “Now,” Rand said as they all were laying their casks in the racks, “what exactly did you do so that you have to avoid Master Luhhan?”   Mat shrugged, trying to look innocent.  “Nothing, really.  I told Adan al'Caar and some of his snot-nosed friends-Ewin Finngar and Dag Coplin-that some farmers had seen ghost hounds, breathing fire and running through the woods. They ate it up like clotted cream.”   Ranma glanced over at the older boy.  “Ghost dogs? Feh.  I’ve seen weirder.”   Neither Rand nor Mat gave any indication that they heard the boy.  “And Master Luhhan is mad at you for that?”   “Not exactly.” Mat stopped, and then shook his head. “You see, I covered two of his dogs with flour, so they were all white. Then I let them loose near Dag's house. How was I to know they'd run straight home? It really isn't my fault. If Mistress Luhhan hadn't left the door open they couldn't have gotten inside. It isn't like I intended to get flour all over her house.” He gave a sharp burst of laughter.  “I hear she chased old Luhhan and the dogs, all three, out of the house with a broom.”   Ranma began to snicker, Akane started giggling, and Rand winced as he laughed too.  “If I were you, I'd worry more about Alsbet Luhhan than about the blacksmith. She's almost as strong, and her temper is a lot worse. No matter, though. If you walk fast, maybe he won't notice you.”  The look Mat was giving Rand easily told him that he didn’t think the boy was funny.   Ranma shivered.  “I’d rather walk fast through that room anyways; evil little thing best not come near me.”   This caused the older boys to blink.  “What do you mean, Ranma?” Rand questioned the younger boy.   “Ranma’s highly afraid of cats... I think he saw the inn’s cat, and is a bit nervous.”   “Oh you mean Scratch?” Ranma winced. “He’s harmless, unless you’re a rat that is.” Mat said with a grin.   “Evil c-cats out to get me...” Ranma murmured under his breath before putting on a brave face.  “Well, are we going to finish our job or what?  I’m hungry, and a little bit cold.”   Rand nodded and began to head back up the stairs.  When they reached the common room, it would seem that none of the group had any reason to hurry.  Scratch was nowhere to be seen, likely off hunting a rat or something, and the six men were gathered in a tight circle around the fireplace.  Tam was speaking in a low voice, and the others were leaning forward, so intent on listening that they would not have noticed had a flock of sheep or herd of cattle crossed their paths.  Rand obviously wanted to move closer to listen in, but a look from Mat shattered that idea.  He followed Mat out to the cart, as did Ranma and Akane.   On their return to the hallway, they found a tray at the top of the steps.  The sweet aroma of honeycakes filled the hallway, and there were four mugs along with a pitcher of steaming mulled cider.  Despite his own reproach about waiting until later, Rand found himself making the final trip trying to juggle a cask and a piping hot honeycake.  Ranma of course managed to perform such a feat effortlessly, and Akane showed little more strain than Ranma did.   As he sat his last cask into the cellar, Ranma tossed the rest of his honeycake in his mouth after Rand wiped his mouth then said, “Now for the glee-”   Feet pattered on the stairs, and Ewin Finngar halfway fell into the cellar in his haste.  His chubby face shining brightly with eagerness to tell his news.  “There are strangers in the village.”  He caught his breath and gave Mat a sardonic glance.  “I haven’t seen any ghost hounds, but I hear someone floured Master Luhhan’s dogs.  I hear Mistress Luhhan knows who to look for, too.”   Normally the difference in the ages between the elder boys and Ewin Finngar, who was only fourteen, allowed them to take a cynical belief to his statements.  This time was different, they exchanged a startled look with each other and Ranma and Akane.  More strangers than them?  Suddenly the four began to speak at once.   “In the village?” Rand asked. “Not in the woods?”   Shortly afterwards Mat added, “Was his cloak black? Could you see his face?”   Ranma asked as well, “What about his horse?  Was it black too?”   Akane was right on top of Ranma.  “And did his cloak move in the wind?”  Ewin looked uncertainly from one, to the next, until his face finally landed on Akane, and then spoke quickly when Mat took a threatening step.  “Of course I could see his face. And his cloak is green. Or maybe gray. It changes. It seems to fade into wherever he's standing.  Sometimes you don't see him even when you look right at him, not unless he moves. And hers is blue, like the sky, and ten times fancier than any feastday clothes I ever saw. She's ten times prettier than anybody I ever saw, too. She's a high-born lady, like in the stories. She must be.”   Ranma glanced over at Akane.  “Gee, he must not be talking about you, Tomboy.”   “Oh really, and I suppose you’re the other person he’s talking about? You aren’t even wearing a cloak.”   “But I can make it so they can’t see me...” Ranma smirked and did a mock move of falling into the Umi-senken stance.   “Don’t you dare Ranma Saotome!”   “Alright, alright, I won’t.”   Ewin stared blankly at the exchange.  It would seem there were more than just his strangers in the village this time around.  “A-ah, erm... excuse me...  My name is Ewin, Ewin Finngar.”   Akane turned and directly glared at the poor boy, but her gaze softened, and Ewin felt his heart melt.  “I’m Akane Tendo, and this baka is Ranma Saotome.”   “Oh sure, introduce me as a baka, Akane!”   “Well you are a baka, baka!”   The fight soon degraded to them making random faces at each other, as Akane hadn’t felt the need to wreck the work that they had done.  Suddenly Mat smacked his forehead and held the top of his head with both hands while shaking it.   “They're the ones I meant to tell you about,” Mat muttered, “before you got me off onto-” He stopped for a second, opening his eyes for a sharp glance at Ewin. “They arrived last evening,” Mat continued after a moment or two, “and took rooms here at the inn. I saw them ride in. Their horses, Rand. I never saw horses so tall, or so sleek. They look like they could run forever. I think he works for her.”   “In service,” Ewin broke in. “They call it being in service, in the stories.”   Mat kept going as if Ewin had not spoken. “Anyway, he defers to her, does what she says.  Only he isn't like a hired man. A soldier, maybe. The way he wears his sword, it's part of him, like his hand or his foot.  Sort of like the way Ranma wears his sword. He makes the merchants' guards look like cur dogs. And err, Rand. I never even imagined anyone like her. She's out of a gleeman's story. She's like... like...” He paused to give Ewin an unpleasant look. “... like a high-born lady," he finished with a sigh.   “But who are they?” Rand asked. Very few strangers came into Emond’s Field.  Except for Merchants and Peddlers that was, but they weren’t really strangers, just outsiders.  Emond’s Field hadn’t had a stranger in the town for five years, and now five at once?  At least Ranma and Akane seemed friendly.  Maybe the other three would be as well.   “What do they want?” Mat exclaimed. “I don't care what they want. Strangers, Rand, and strangers like you never even dreamed of. Think of it!”   Ranma and Akane turned towards Mat after calming down a bit.  “So, strangers aren’t common here?” Akane asked.  The boy shook his head.   “Her name is Moiraine,” Ewin interjected into the brief silence. “I heard him say it.  Moiraine, he called her. The Lady Moiraine.  His name is Lan.  The Wisdom may not like her, but I do.”   “Why wouldn’t the Wisdom like her?” Ranma had to question.  Maybe the Wisdom wouldn’t like him.  Not that he cared or anything.   Ewin glanced at the (slightly) older boy once before answering.  “She asked the Wisdom for directions this morning,” Ewin said, “and called her ‘child.’”  The two oldest boys in the group softly whistled through their teeth, and Ewin’s nearly tripped over his own tongue in his hurry to explain. “The Lady Moiraine didn't know she was the Wisdom. She apologized when she found out. She did. And asked some questions about herbs, and about who is who around Emond's Field, just as respectfully as any woman in the village- more so than some. She's always asking questions, about how old people are, and how long they've lived where they live, and... Oh, I don't know what all. Anyway, Nynaeve answered like she'd bitten a green sweetberry.  Then, when the Lady Moiraine walked away, Nynaeve stared after her like, like... Well, it wasn't friendly, I can tell you that.”   Ranma whistled.  “For a second I thought she was like you, Tomboy.  This Wisdom lady, I mean.”   Right as Akane was about to jibe him back, Rand asked, “Is that all? You know Nynaeve's temper. When Cenn Buie called her a child last year, she thumped him on the head with her stick, and he's on the Village Council, and old enough to be her grandfather, besides. She flares up at anything, and never stays angry past turning around.”   Ranma smirked.  “Sounds like a weird combination of Akane and the old ghoul.  I won-erk!” Ranma was cut off by an elbow being driven into his stomach by Akane, who turned back to the other boys and sweetly said, “Go on; ignore this baka.  He just doesn’t know when to shut up.”   Ewin gulped loudly in seeing that action.  “B-b-but...”   “I said, go ON!”  It must have been a trick of the lighting because the other boys could swear they saw the flash of something form around Akane for a second.  Whatever it was caused them to quickly turn back to their original topic.   “Anyways...” Rand cleared his throat.   “Anyways, I don’t care who Nynaeve thumps, as long as I’m not the one being thumped.” Mat said with a smirk, “This is going to be the best Bel Tine ever. A gleeman, a lady, these two,” he gestured at Akane who still had her arm embedded in Ranma’s stomach, “Who could ask for more? Who needs fireworks?”   “A gleeman?!?” Ewin exclaimed with his voice rising sharply.   “Let’s go Rand, Akane, Ranma,” he glanced at the two outsiders who he felt were more important than the youngest boy there, “we’re done here.  You have to see this fellow, all of you.”   He sprung up the stairs with Ewin clambering to keep up with him, calling, “Is there really a gleeman, Mat? This isn't like the ghost hounds, is it? Or the frogs?”   Rand paused only to turn down the lamp as Ranma and Akane followed Mat out, and then he followed the pair.   As they passed the common room, once more did Ranma look for the cat, fearing that it would strike at any passing moment.  He lingered in the room for a few seconds, Akane stalling with him.  It was so much warmer in here than it was in the cellar, and the two of them wanted to heat themselves up a bit more before going outside.  In the corner of his eye, Ranma noticed that two more men had joined the circle of men around the fire.  Bran al’Vere spoke now, his voice pitched so low that it sounded only like a rumbling murmur to those beyond the chairs.  The man was emphasizing his words by striking his palm with his forefinger and looking each man in the eye.  All of the men nodded in agreement, but it looked to Ranma that the old one, Cenn Buie, he remembered his name was, did so reluctantly.   Akane noticed Rand leave the inn and gripped Ranma on the shoulder to bring him outside.  These two were the only ones even remotely near their age, and they seemed to know the town well, and they were friendly, even though they were boys.  However, her time with Ranma had made her realize that not every boy was a pervert.  Ryoga was obviously not one, after all.  Ranma on the other hand...   When the two martial artists got outside, the first thing they noticed was that both the cart and Bela were gone.  Most likely she was taken by a stablehand of the inn.  Ranma had been to inns like this one when he was training in China.  Of course they had more Chinese people and less gaijin as this inn had.  Ranma smirked as he heard Mat exclaim, “For the last time, I am not playing a trick on you. There is a Gleeman. Now go away. Rand, Ranma, Akane, any one of you, will you tell this woolhead I am telling the truth so he'll leave me alone?”   As Ranma stepped up to give his support to his new acquaintance, his words stopped in his mouth before he could even move it.  He was being watched again.  He could feel the presence there.   Turning, he saw it, on the edge of the inn’s tile roof.  A large raven, swaying because of the gusts of wind with its head cocked to the side.  One of its beady black eyes was focused... directly on him.  Or so it seemed.  All of the sudden, a rush of anger began to flow through Ranma.   “Filthy carrion eater...” Ranma just realized that Rand was standing next to him and had a sour look on his face, staring at the raven.   “I’m tired of being stared at.” It would seem Mat joined his friend on the opposite side that Ranma was at.   “Nasty bird...”  The three of them shared a glance, and then their hands were quickly filled with rocks.  The boys released the rocks into the air, and they flew true... Until at the last second, the raven stepped aside.  Three stones flew by the spot the raven once occupied.  The raven ruffled its feathers, and then gave them all a glare with a beady eye.  It showed no indication of being afraid, or that something had happened.   “Did you ever see a raven do that?”  Rand was staring at the raven in dismay.   Mat shook his head without his gaze ever leaving the raven.  “Never, nor any other bird for that matter.”   “I have, once.  A short time before we woke up in the forest.” Ranma said.   “A vile bird,” came a woman’s voice from somewhere behind the boys.  Akane was standing to the right of Ranma, so it couldn’t be her.  The voice sounded melodic despite its undertones of distaste. “To be mistrusted at the best of times.”   With a strident cry, the raven leapt into the air so vehemently that two black feathers fell down from the rooftop.   Turning quickly around, Ranma tried vainly to follow the raven’s flight as it sped off towards the peaks of the Mountains of Mist, crossing the Green and Westwood in the process.   Once the raven disappeared from sight, Ranma’s gaze fell onto the woman who spoke.  This must be the one that Ewin was speaking about.  The Lady Moiraine.  When he had heard that she had called this Wisdom lady child, Ranma thought that she must be extremely old.  However, this was not the case.  At first glance, Ranma believed that she couldn’t be much older than him, but then he took a closer look, she was far more mature than that.  She held herself with an air of maturity that exceeded even his mother.  The maturity was clearly visible in those large dark eyes that seemed to swallow him up as he gazed into them.  Ranma felt he should tear his gaze away, lest Akane... He could not.  Her clothes, they were interesting on her as well.  She was dressed like he would expect a very rich person to dress, if it were ancient times that is.  Her cloak was cyan velvet with very thick silver embroidery of leaves and vines that were on the frills of it.  Her dress was an even darker blue than her cloak and it shimmered as she moved.  Around her neck, she wore a gold necklace made of chains, and there was another gold band around her head that had a blue stone rest on her forehead.  She wore a belt of gold and on her ring finger of her right hand she had a ring of the like which Ranma had never seen before.  Apparently it was a snake eating its own tail.   “Good morning, Mistress . . . ah . . . Lady Moiraine,” Rand was obviously nervous.    Mat echoed him, a bit more smoothly, but not much more. “Good Morning, Lady Moiraine.”   Ranma smiled and repeated the others, albeit with a different way, “Good Morning, Moiraine-sama.”   She smiled, and Ranma could not help but wonder about her. “You know my name,” she said, obviously delighted with the prospect, “but you must call me Moiraine, not lady.  And what are your names?”   Ewin jumped forward before either of the others could speak. “My name is Ewin Finngar, my lady. I told them your name; that's how they know. I heard Lan say it, but I wasn't eavesdropping. No one like you has ever come to Emond's Field, before. There's a gleeman in the village for Bel Tine, too. And tonight is Winternight. Will you come to my house? My mother has apple cakes.”   “I shall have to see,” she replied, placing a hand atop Ewin's shoulder. Her eyes shone with glee, but that was the only area that gave any sign of it. “I do not know how well I could compete against a gleeman, Ewin. But you must all call me Moiraine." She looked expectantly at Rand and Mat.   “I'm Matrim Cauthon, La . . . ah . . . Moiraine,” Mat gave a jerky bow to her.   Rand also introduced himself, only by speaking his name.  Moiraine nodded, and then glanced over the other two out there.  Her eyes seemed to linger on Akane for a second before passing to Ranma and widening a bit.  Perhaps she was surprised, but this woman did not wear her emotions on her sleeve, and she gave nary a sign of it save her eyes.   “A young man with a sword, and a young girl.  You two are obviously not from here, could I hear your names as well?”   Ranma smirked before confidently answering, “I’m Ranma Saotome, of the Saotome School of Anything Goes Martial Arts.”   Akane gave Moiraine a bow before she answered, “My name is Akane Tendo, of the Tendo branch of the same school.”   Moiraine nodded, before glancing around the group.  “You two, you are staying at the inn, are you not?”   “I don’t know... maybe.” Akane looked uncertain.   “Well, if you are, I would like to speak with you later.”   Moiraine walked up to the two martial artists and pressed a silver coin into their hands, carefully.  “For your trouble.  And the three of you,” she said, turning towards the other boys, “I may have some small tasks to be done from time to time while I am in Emond's Field, perhaps you may be able to assist me?”   The woman laughed as the three of them were stumbling over each other to affirm her statement.  And then she surprised Rand by pressing a coin into his hand as well.  “Here.”   Rand started, “There’s no need,” but Moiraine simply waved her hand in a dismissive way as she gave Ewin a coin as well.  She then pressed a coin into Mat’s hand, much as the same way she did Rand and the two martial artists.   “Of course, there is,” she said, smiling at the three. “You cannot be expected to work for nothing, nor could I just ask your story for nothing. Consider this a token, and keep it with you, so you will remember that you have agreed to come to me when I ask it. There is a bond between us now.”   “I’ll never forget!” Ewin supplied.   “Later, we must talk,” Moiraine solemnly said, “and you must each tell me about yourselves.”   “Lady . . . I mean, Moiraine?” Rand slowly asked as the woman began to turn away.   She stopped and looked back at him over her shoulder, forcing the young man to swallow before going on. “Why have you come to Emond's Field?” Though her expression remained unchanged, Rand must have felt he offended her in some way for he continued, “I don't mean to be rude. I'm sorry. It's just that no one comes into the Two Rivers except the merchants, and peddlers when the snow isn't too deep to get down from Baerlon. Almost no one. Certainly no one like you. The merchants' guards sometimes say this is the back end of forever, and I suppose it must seem that way to anyone from outside. I just wondered.”   Her smile slowly disappeared then, as if she were contemplating something.  For a moment, she simply stared at Rand.  “I am a student of history,” she began at last, “a collector of old stories. This place you call the Two Rivers has always interested me. Sometimes I study the stories of what happened here long ago, here and at other places.”   Ranma glanced at her.  “You mean you actually enjoy school?”   Moiraine simply smiled at the boy.  “Yes.”   “What else would you call it besides the Two Rivers?” Mat started, “That’s what it’s always been called.”   “As the Wheel of Time turns,” Moiraine said, half talking to herself with an almost distant look in her eyes, “places wear many names. Men wear many names, many faces. Different faces, but always the same man. Yet no one knows the Great Pattern the Wheel weaves, or even the Pattern of an Age. We can only watch, and study, and hope.”   Ranma snorted at that, causing him to receive a glare from Akane.  Ignoring the glare, he added, “I don’t want to believe my life is scripted, but damn I could blame a lot of my problems on that if it were.”   “The Pattern is what has already happened, but what has yet to happen is up to us and the turning of the Wheel.” Moiraine said simply before adding, “Later we will talk.  Later.”  She turned and walked toward the Wagon Bridge.   As she was leaving, a tall man that even Ranma had not noticed before moved away from the front of the inn to follow her.  His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and his clothes were of green and gray so that he would almost fade into the brush.  His cloak seemed to be a different color each time Ranma looked at it, sometimes seeming to disappear into the background behind it.  Ranma assessed this guy’s skill with the sword by just looking at him.  Obviously, he was better than Kuno, wearing the sword as if it was part of his body rather than a crutch.  Ranma thought about how fun it would be to spar with him.   In passing the five youths, his eyes glanced over them, seeming to linger on each of them, as if weighing them with his eyes.  Ranma knew then that he was a decent fighter, for he was judging their skill at a glance.   “That was Lan,” Ewin spoke as if he had been holding his breath. The look given could do that. “I'll bet he's a Warder.”   A confused look plastered itself onto Ranma’s face. “A Warder?” He asked.   “Don't be a fool.” Mat nervously laughed. “Warders are just in stories.  Anyway, Warders have swords and armor covered in gold and jewels, and spend all their time up north, in the Great Blight, fighting evil and Trollocs and such.”   "He could be a Warder," Ewin maintained.   “Did you see any gold or jewels on him?” Mat jeered. “Do we have Trollocs in the Two Rivers? We have sheep. I wonder what could ever have happened here to interest someone like her.”   “Something could have,” Rand spoke gradually. “They say the inn's been here for a thousand years, maybe more.”   “A thousand years of sheep,” Mat said.   Ranma grabbed Akane by the arm at that instant and took her to the side.  He began to speak to her rapidly in Japanese.  A language he hadn’t realized that he wasn’t speaking in until he started to speak in it.   “<Akane, I don’t think we’re in China no more.>”   “<Gee, what was your first clue, baka?>”   “<Not what I meant, tomboy.  I mean I think we time traveled again.>”   “<How? The Naban Mirror is broken.>”   “<Who said that was the only thing that could do it?>   Akane smacked herself in the forehead.  “<These things always happen around you, now don’t they?>”   “<What’s that supposed to mean?>”   Switching back to the Plain Chant, Common, Akane said, “It means everything is your fault, Ranma.”   “Is not... Hey, what’s going on over there?” Ranma pointed to a large gathering of people.  The sound of pots and metal clanging together along with the sound of moving wagons announced what had happened.  The peddler had arrived.   *********************************************************** * (End Chapter One)   Author’s notes: Damn, this is ridiculous.  I kept trying to end the chapter, but it kept growing and growing.  Finally I picked a good stopping point.  Anyways, I promised a glossary, and it will start at the end of my Author’s notes.  Not only Wheel of Time stuff will be in it though, but also some Ranma things.  Heh, 12,996 words in story alone.  I feel good now.  Thanks to all of my prereaders and to everyone who reviewed.  Send C&C to ellfangor8@gmail.com.  Don’t flame me... I burn easily... ********************************************************* Glossar y: Notes on Dates:  Robert Jordan used some special dating systems for the Wheel of Time Novels, here is a quote from his glossary as for how they work. “A Note on Dates in This Glossary. The Toman Calendar (devised by Toma dur Ahmid) was adopted approximately two centuries after the death of the last male Aes Sedai, recording years After the Breaking of the World (AB). So many records were destroyed in the Trolloc Wars that at their end there was argument about the exact year under the old system. A new calendar, proposed by Tiam of Gazar, celebrated freedom from the Trolloc threat and recorded each year as a Free Year (FY). The Gazaran Calendar gained wide acceptance within twenty years after the Wars' end. Artur Hawkwing attempted to establish a new calendar based on the founding of his empire (FF, From the Founding), but only historians now refer to it. After the death and destruction of the War of the Hundred Years, a third calendar was devised by Uren din Jubai Soaring Gull, a scholar of the Sea Folk, and promulgated by the Panarch Farede of Tarabon. The Farede Calendar, dating from the arbitrarily decided end of the War of the Hundred Years and recording years of the New Era (NE), is currently in use.” I will be using his dating system for anything that happens in Wheel of Time, and then some.  The time period Anno Domini (AD) will be used for any dates pre-Third Impact, and after Third Impact dates will be known as ATI.   Aiel: People who are native to the Aiel Waste, east of the Spine of the World.  They are a warrior people who Aes Sedai: Old Tongue for “Servants of All”.  In the Age of Legends, all channelers were called this.  Now only female channelers can be Aes Sedai due to the taint on saidin. al’Thor, Tam: A Shepard in Emond’s Field.  See also: al’Thor, Rand al’Thor, Rand: Son of Tam al’Thor, this child has just recently reached marriageable age, and is an excellent shot with the bow. al’Vere, Brandewlyn: Mayor of Emond’s Field and Innkeeper of the Winesprig Inn.
al’Vere, Mistress: An excellent Chef and wife of the Mayor. Baerlon: A city not too far north of the Two Rivers. Buie, Cenn: Resident Thatcher of Emond’s Field, a complainer. Cauthon, Matrim: A friend of Rand al’Thor, a known prankster in Emond’s Field. Caradier: Actually, I made up this word.  In this fic it means “Ice Sword” which is the name of the katana, save its other name.  See also: Gekkaja. Congar, Daise: Wife of Wit Congar, she is on the Women’s Circle, and is adamant about interference. Congar, Wit: A complainer who obviously is lazy. Eelfinn: Fox-like creatures that can be found beyond the twisted doorway that Happosai entered. Emond’s Field: A village within the Two Rivers. Finngar, Ewin: A young boy from Emond’s Field. Happosai:  Grandmaster of the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts. Kitsune: see Eelfinn. Moiraine:  A woman who is apparently a lady.  Mysterious and searches for stories in Emond’s Field. Lan:  Mysterious man who accompanies Moiraine to Emond’s Field.  Carries a sword. Saotome, Genma: Ranma’s father.  Cursed to turn into a panda. Saotome, Ranma:  Hero of the series: Ranma 1/2, Brash and arrogant, he is an excellent martial artist of great repute, at least in his own time. Tendo, Akane: Fiancée of Ranma.  Angers easily over the silliest of things, and usually takes her frustrations out on Ranma. Tendo, Kasumi: Akane’s eldest sister.  A bit vapid and very kind. Tendo, Nabiki: Akane’s older sister, the middle Tendo sister.  Disappeared shortly before the Second Impact.