"How does he do what?" Estair asked, and Egwene blinked, startled that she had spoken aloud.

"How does he upset my stomach so easily?"

Surandha shook her head in commiseration, but she grinned too. "He is a man, Egwene."

"He is the Car’a’carn," Estair said with heavy emphasis, and more than a touch of reverence. Egwene would not be entirely surprised to see her wind that fool strip of cloth around her head.

Surandha immediately tackled Estair over how she was ever going to deal with a hold chief, much less a sept or clan chief, if she did not realize that a man did not stop being a man just because he led, while Estair maintained stoutly that the Car’a’carnwas different. One of the older women, Mera, who had come to see her daughter, leaned toward them and said that the way to handle any chief – hold, sept, clan orthe Car’a’carn– was the same as the way to handle a husband, which brought a laugh from Baerin, also there to visit a daughter, and a comment that that would be a good way to have a roofmistress lay her knife at your feet, a declaration of feud. Baerin had been a Maiden before she married, but anyone could declare a feud with anyone other than a Wise One or a blacksmith. Before the words were well out of Mera’s mouth everybody except the gai’shainjoined in, overwhelming poor Estair – the Car’a’carnwas a chief among chiefs, no more; that was certain – but arguing whether it was better to approach a chief directly or through his roofmistress.

Egwene paid little attention. Surely Rand would not do anything foolish. He had been properly doubtful concerning Elaida’s letter, yet he believed Alviarin’s, which was not only more cordial, but downright fawning. He thought he had friends, even followers, in the Tower. She did not. Three Oaths or no Three Oaths, she was convinced Elaida and Alviarin had worked up that second letter between them, with all its ridiculous talk of "kneeling in his radiance." It was all a ploy to get him into the Tower.

Looking at her hands regretfully, she sighed and set down her cup. It was snatched up by the gai’shainbefore her hand was well away.

"I must go," she told the two apprentices. "There’s something I realize I have to do." Surandha and Estair made noises about going with her – well, more than noises; if Aiel said something, they meant it – but they were caught up in the discussion and did not argue when she insisted they stay. Wrapping her shawl around her head again and leaving the rising voices behind – Mera was telling Estair in no uncertain tones that she might be a Wise One eventually, but until she was she could listen to a woman who had managed a husband and raised three daughters and two sons without a sister-wife to help – Egwene ducked back into the windblown dust.

In the city, she tried to creep through the crowded streets without appearing to creep, tried to look every way while seeming to watch only where she was going. The chances of walking into Nesune were small, but... Ahead of her two women in sober dresses and prim aprons sidestepped to go around one another, but both moved the same way, and they came nose to nose. Murmured apologies, and each woman stepped aside again. In the same direction. More apologies, and as if dancing, they moved together once more. As Egwene passed them, they were still stepping from side to side in perfect unison, faces beginning to redden, apologies swallowed behind compressed lips. How long it might go on she had no idea, but it was well to remember that Rand was in the city. Light, when he was around, it would not be beyond belief for her to walk right up on all six Aes Sedai just as a gust of wind ripped the shawl from around her head and three people shouted her name and called her Aes Sedai. With him around, it would not be entirely beyond belief to walk into Elaida.

She hurried on, increasingly uneasy about being caught in one of his ta’verenswirls, increasingly wild-eyed. Fortunately, the sight of a wild-eyed Aiel with her face hidden – what did they know of the difference between a shawl and a veil? – made people move out of her way, which allowed her to speed along at a near trot, but she did not draw a peaceful breath until she slipped into the Sun Palace by a small servant’s door in the rear.

A strong smell of cooking hung in the narrow hallway, and liveried men and women scurried back and forth. Others, taking their ease in their shirtsleeves or flapping aprons to make a little breeze, stared at her in astonishment. Likely no one except other servants came this close to the kitchens from one year to the next. Certainly not an Aiel. They looked as though they expected her to produce a spear from under her skirts.

She pointed a finger at a round little man who was wiping his neck with a kerchief. "Do you know where Rand al’Thor is?"

He gave a start, rolling his eyes toward his companions, who were quickly drifting away. His feet shifted, wanting very much to follow. "The Lord Dragon, uh... Mistress? In his chambers? I suppose, anyway." He began to shuffle sideways, bowing. "If Mistress... uh... if my Lady will forgive, I must get back to my – "

"You will take me there." she said firmly. She was not going to wander about this time.

One last eye-rolling after his vanished friends, a sigh quickly suppressed, a hurried frightened look to see whether he had offended, and he scampered off to fetch his coat. He was very efficient in the warren of palace corridors, hurrying along and bowing her way at every turn, but when at last he pointed with yet another bow to tall doors worked with gilded rising suns and guarded by a Maiden and an Aielman, she felt a flash of contempt as she dismissed him. She could not understand why; he was simply doing what he was paid to do.

The Aielman stood as she approached, a verytall man in his middle years, with bull-like chest and shoulders and cold gray eyes. Egwene did not know him, and he plainly meant to turn her away. Luckily she did know the Maiden.

"Let her pass, Maric," Somara said, grinning. "This is Amys’ apprentice, hers and Bair’s and Melaine’s, the only apprentice I know to serve three Wise Ones. And from the look of her, they have sent her running with strong words for Rand al’Thor."

"Running?" Maric’s chuckle softened neither face nor eyes. "Crawling, it looks." He went back to watching the corridor.

Egwene did not have to ask what he meant. Digging her handkerchief out of her belt pouch, she wiped hurriedly at her face; no one could take you seriously dirty, and Rand had to listen. "Important words anyway, Somara. He is alone, I hope. The Aes Sedai haven’t come yet?" The handkerchief came away gray and went back into her pouch with a sigh.

Somara shook her head. "It is some good time before they are due. Will you tell him to be careful? I mean no disrespect to your sisters, but he will not look where he leaps. He is headstrong."

"I will tell him." Egwene could not help a grin. She had heard Somara talk this way before – with the sort of exasperated pride a mother might have for an over-adventurous son of about ten – and a few other Maidens as well. It had to be some sort of Aiel joke, and even if she did not understand, she was in favor of anything that kept him from getting too big a head. "I’ll tell him to wash his ears, too." Somara actually nodded before catching herself. Egwene drew a deep breath. "Somara, my sisters mustn’t find out I am here." Marie glanced at her curiously, between studying every servant who entered the hallway. She had to be careful. "We are not close, Somara. In fact, you might say we are as far apart as sisters can be."

"The worst bad blood is between first-sisters," Somara said with a nod. "Go in. They will not hear your name from me, and if Maric’s tongue flaps, I will tie a knot in it." Maric, head and shoulders taller and weighing at least twice as much, smiled slightly without looking at her.