The corruption hit Spencer's Thread Sight like a slap.
He'd stopped at a village inn to rest his horse and grab a meal — routine travel maintenance after five days of hard riding. The common room was ordinary enough: farmers drinking ale, a merchant complaining about road conditions, the innkeeper wiping tables with methodical boredom.
But behind the building, something screamed in the Pattern.
Spencer walked around the inn's exterior, following the wrongness, and found it carved into the outer wall. Letters scored into wood with something sharper than any knife — deep gouges that pulsed with sickly green-gold light visible only to Thread Sight. The Shadar Logoth corruption he'd encountered in the ruins weeks ago, concentrated and deliberate.
The Codex translated the intent before Spencer could consciously process the words:
"The thread that should not be. I know your road. I have what you love. Come find me, little patch, before I unravel everything."
Spencer's blood went cold.
[WARNING: Mordeth-script message detected. Author: Padan Fain (confirmed corruption signature). Intent: Personal threat/challenge. Note: Message deliberately left for MC identification — Fain knows about Codex perception capabilities.]
Fain wasn't just heading to Tear. He was hunting Spencer personally. And the phrase "I have what you love" meant he'd gathered intelligence on Spencer's connections — Nicola, maybe. Verin. The Hunt party. Anyone Spencer had touched during months of careful alliance-building.
He's not just chasing Rand anymore. He's making it personal.
And he's good enough at this game to find me on a road hundreds of miles from anywhere we've both been.
---
Spencer Thread-Traced the corruption residue.
The trail led south, days old, spreading toward Tear like an infection. Fain had passed through this village at least a week ago — the timing suggested he was well ahead of both Spencer and Rand's group, positioning himself at the destination rather than pursuing.
Classic ambush strategy. Get to the objective first, let the targets come to you.
Except now I know he's there. And he knows I'll know.
This is a game. He's inviting me to play.
Spencer found a loose chip of wood where Fain's carving had gouged deepest. The corruption concentrated in the fragment, green-gold threads writhing like diseased veins. He stored it in Codex Inventory — Slot 7, isolated from the other items — and hoped the quarantine would hold.
[Codex Inventory: Corrupted Wood Fragment (Fain/Mordeth signature) stored. WARNING: Containment integrity 94%. Prolonged storage not recommended. Utility: Tracking, analysis, possible bait.]
Good to know. Don't keep this forever.
Spencer scraped the remaining carving with soap and water. The physical marks faded, but the thread-corruption remained — a stain on the Pattern that would take months to naturally heal. Anyone else would see a scratched wall. Spencer saw Fain's signature burned into reality.
He wanted me to find this. He left it knowing I'd be able to read it.
Which means he's been thinking about me specifically. Not just as Rand's associate — as a target.
Since Fal Dara? Since the dungeon? Maybe since Winternight, when I first identified him as wrong.
---
The inn's stew tasted like ashes.
Spencer sat at a corner table, mechanically spooning food into his mouth while his mind churned through Fain's message. "I have what you love" — what did that mean? What did Fain know about Spencer's attachments?
Nicola is in the Tower. Verin is in the Tower. Both should be protected by Siuan's authority and their own capabilities.
But Fain has Darkfriend networks. Information flows through the Shadow's channels. If someone in Tar Valon reported to him about "the young man with unusual Talents"...
Or worse — if he somehow knows about the saidin sample. The pure saidin in my Inventory. The one thing I have that the Shadow would literally kill nations to possess.
Spencer forced himself to finish eating. Panic accomplished nothing. Analysis accomplished something.
Fain's message is designed to destabilize. That's Mordeth's influence — psychological warfare, using fear as a weapon. He wants me scared and irrational.
So I won't be scared. I'll be prepared.
And I'll reach Rand's group before Fain reaches the Stone.
---
That night, Spencer composed an emergency coded letter to Verin.
The cipher was layered deeper than usual, the urgency coded into word choices that would signal danger without alerting anyone who intercepted the message:
Dear Sister Verin,
My research has taken an URGENT turn. Historical sources suggest a PARTICULAR COLLECTOR may be interested in materials from my region of study — specifically PERSONAL EFFECTS associated with SPECIFIC SCHOLARS I've worked with. Please ensure any COLLECTIONS related to my research are SECURED IMMEDIATELY.
The COLLECTOR's methods are AGGRESSIVE and his INTELLIGENCE NETWORK broader than previously estimated. Assume he knows about ANY CONNECTIONS to my work.
Travel continues productively. Expect arrival at SOUTHERN DESTINATION within days.
Your concerned colleague, A.M.
Translation: Fain may have intelligence on you and Nicola. Secure everything. He's dangerous and well-informed. I'm heading to Tear.
Spencer paid triple the courier rate and added instructions to travel only in daylight, only on main roads. The letter might arrive too late to matter, but doing nothing felt worse.
---
The morning brought Thread Tracing and confirmation.
Spencer reached south toward Rand's group and found them — still moving, still on trajectory toward Tear. But the Thread Trace showed something new: three unfamiliar signatures among the familiar threads of Rand, Mat, Perrin, and the others.
Hurin. Min. And... someone else I don't recognize.
The group's composition has changed since I last traced them. New additions from Falme.
In the books, Hurin had been with the Hunt party — the thief-catcher whose nose could smell violence. Min had joined them somewhere in the sequence, her ability to see ta'veren futures making her valuable. The third signature was unclear — possibly a Falme local who'd attached themselves to the Dragon's party.
Two days of hard riding. Maybe three. Then I catch them.
And I bring them the news that Fain is waiting at their destination with a personal grudge against half the people I care about.
Spencer saddled his horse and rode south with Fain's words carved into his memory deeper than any wood.
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