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day the sweeps worked from sunrise to sunset； but the wind fought them as if it wanted to push the boat back upriver。
They did not put in to shore； neither by day nor by night。 Bayle Domon drove boat and crew alike hard； railing at the contrary winds； cursing the slow pace。 He blistered the crew for sluggards at the oars and flayed them with his tongue for every mishandled line； his low； hard voice painting Trollocs ten feet tall among them on the deck； ripping out their throats。 For two days that was enough to send every man leaping。 Then the shock of the Trolloc attack began to fade； and men began to mutter about an hour to stretch their legs ashore； and about the dangers of running downriver in the dark。
The crew kept their grumbles quiet； watching out of the corners of their eyes to make sure Captain Domon was not close enough to hear； but he seemed to hear everything said on his boat。 Each time the grumblings began； he silently brought out the long； scythe…like sword and cruelly hooked axe that had been found on the deck after the attack。 He would hang them on the mast for an hour； and those who had been wounded would finger their bandages； and the mutterings quieted。。。 for a day or so； at least； until one or another of the crew began thinking once more that surely they had left the Trollocs far behind by now； and the cycle began yet again。
Rand noticed that Thom Merrilin stayed clear of the crew when they began whispering together and frowning； though usually he was slapping backs and telling jokes and exchanging banter in a way that put a grin on even the hardest…working man。 Thom watched those secretive mutters with a wary eye while appearing to be absorbed in lighting his long…stemmed pipe； or tuning his harp； or almost anything except paying any mind at all to the crew。 Rand did not understand why。 It was not the three who had e aboard chased by Trollocs whom the crew seemed to blame； but rather Floran Gelb。
For the first day or two Gelb's wiry figure could almost always be found addressing any crewman he could corner； telling his version of the night Rand and the others came on board。 Gelb's manner slid from bluster to whines and back again； and his lip always curled when he pointed to Thom or Mat； or especially Rand； trying to lay the blame on them。
〃They're strangers；〃 Gelb pleaded； quietly and with an eye out for the captain。 〃What do we know of them？ The Trollocs came with them； that's what we know。 They're in league。〃
〃Fortune； Gelb； stow it；〃 growled a man with his hair in a pigtail and a small blue star tattooed on his cheek。 He did not look at Gelb as he coiled a line on deck； working it in with his bare toes。 All the sailors went barefoot despite the cold； boots could slip on a wet deck。 〃You'd call your mother Darkfriend if it'd let you slack。 Get away from me！〃 He spat on Gelb's foot and went back to the line。
All the crew remembered the watch Gelb had not kept； and the pigtailed man's was the politest response he got。 No one even wanted to work with him。 Gelb found himself relegated to solitary tasks； all of them filthy； such as scrubbing the galley's greasy pots； or crawling into the bilges on his belly to search for leaks among years of slime。 Soon he stopped talking to anyone。 His shoulders took on a defensive hunch； and injured silence became his stance … the more people watching； the more injured； though it earned him no more than a grunt。 When Gelb's eyes fell on Rand； however； or on Mat or Thom； murder flashed across his long…nosed face。
When Rand mentioned to Mat that Gelb would cause them trouble sooner or later； Mat looked around the boat； saying； 〃Can we trust any of them？ Any at all？〃 Then he went off to find a place where he could be alone； or as alone as he could get on a boat less than thirty paces from its raised bow to the sternpost where the steering oars were mounted。 Mat had spent too much time alone since the night at Shadar Logoth； brooding； as Rand saw it。
Thom said； 〃Trouble won't e from Gelb； boy； if it es。 Not yet； at least。 None of the crew will back him； and he hasn't the nerve to try anything alone。 But the others； now 。。。 ？ Domon almost seems to think the Trollocs are chasing him； personally； but the rest are beginning to think the danger is past。 They might just decide they have had enough。 They're on the edge of it； as it is。〃 He hitched his patch…covered cloak； and Rand had the feeling he was checking his hidden knives … his second…best set。 〃If they mutiny； boy； they won't leave passengers behind to tell the tale。 The Queen's Writ might not have much force this far from Caemlyn； but even a village mayor will do something about that。〃 That was when Rand； too； began trying not to be noticed when he watched the
crewmen。
Thom did his part in diverting the crew from thoughts of mutiny。 He told stories； with all the flourishes； every morning and every night； and in between he played any song they requested。 To support the notion that Rand and Mat wanted to be apprentice gleemen； he set aside a time each day for lessons； and that was an entertainment for the crew； as well。 He would not let either of them touch his harp； of course； and their sessions with the flute produced pained winces； in the beginning； at least； and laughter from the crew even while they were covering their ears。
He taught the boys some of the easier stories； a little simple tumbling； and； of course； juggling。 Mat plained about what Thom demanded of them； but Thom blew out his mustaches and glared right back。
〃I don't know how to play at teaching； boy。 I either teach a thing； or I don't。 Now！ Even a country bumpkin ought to be able to do a simple handstand。 Up you go。〃
Crewmen who were not working always gathered； squatting in a circle around the three。 Some even tried their hand at the lessons Thom taught； laughing at their own fumblings。 Gelb stood alone and watched it all darkly； hating them all。
A good part of each day Rand spent leaning on the railing； staring at the shore。 It was not that he really expected to see Egwene or any of the others suddenly appear on the riverbank； but the boat traveled so slowly that he sometimes hoped for it。 They could catch up without riding too hard。 If they had escaped。 If they were still alive。
The river rolled on without any sign of life； nor any boat to be seen except the Spray。 But that was not to say there was nothing to see； and wonder at。 In the middle of the first day； the Arinelle ran between high bluffs that stretched for half a mile on either side。 For that whole length the stone had been cut into figures； men and women a hundred feet tall； with crowns proclaiming them kings and queens。 No two were alike in that royal procession； and long years separated the first from the last。 Wind and rain had worn those at the north end smooth and almost featureless； with faces and details being more distinct as they went south。 The river lapped around the statues' feet； feet washed to smooth nubs； those that were not gone pletely。 How long have they stood there； Rand wondered。 How long for the river to wear away so much stone？ None of the crew so much as looked up from their work； they had seen the ancient carvings so many times before。
Another time； when the eastward shore had bee flat grassland again； broken only occasionally by thickets； the sun glinted off something in the distance。 〃What can that be？〃 Rand wondered aloud。 〃It looks like metal。〃
Captain Domon was walking by； and he paused； squinting toward the glint。 〃It do be metal；〃 he said。 His words still ran together； but Rand had e to understand without having to puzzle it out。 〃A tower of metal。 I have seen it close up； and I know。 River traders use it as a marker。 We be ten days from Whitebridge at the rate we go。〃
〃A metal tower？〃 Rand said； and Mat； sitting cross…legged with his back against a barrel； roused from his brooding to listen。
The captain nodded。 〃Aye。 Shining steel； by the look and feel of it； but no spot of rust。 Two hundred feet high； it be； as big around as a house； with no a mark on it and never an opening to be found。〃
〃I'll bet there's tre