"It is not that," Nandera said stiffly. Jalani’s jaw was so tight she was plainly fighting to hold her tongue.

Just that quickly, he understood. They did not believe they should have spotted the Gray Man, but they were still ashamed they had not. Ashamed of that, and fearful of the shame of having word of their "failure" spread. "I don’t want anyone to know Taim was here, or what he said. People are anxious enough knowing the school is somewhere near the city without being afraid Taim or one of the students will just appear. I think the best way is just to keep quiet about everything that happened this morning. We can’t keep a corpse secret, but I want you to promise you’ll say nothing except that a man tried to kill me and died for it. That’s all I intend to tell anybody, and I’d hate for you to make me out a liar."

The gratitude on their faces was remarkable. "I have toh," they murmured almost together.

Rand cleared his throat roughly; that was not what he had been after, but at least he had eased their minds. Suddenly a way to deal with Sulin popped into his head. She would not like it, but it would still be meeting her toh, maybe the more so because she would not like it, and it would relieve his conscience somewhat and at least meet some of his tohto her.

"Get on to your guarding now, or I’ll start thinking youwant to stare at my eyebrows." That waswhat Nandera had said. Aviendha was fascinated by his eyebrows? "Go on. And find somebody to haul this fellow away." They left, all smiles and flickering handtalk, and he stood, taking Aviendha by the arm. "You said we had to talk. Come into the bedroom until this room is cleaned up." If there was a stain, maybe he could channel it out.

Aviendha jerked free. "No! Not there!" Drawing a deep breath, she moderated her tone, but she still looked suspicious, and more than a little angry. "Why can we not talk here?" No reason except a dead man on the floor, but that did not count with her. She pushed him back into his chair almost violently, then studied him and took another breath before speaking.

"Ji’e’tohis the core of the Aiel. We are ji’e’toh. This morning you shamed me to the bone." Folding her arms beneath her breasts and fixing him eye to eye, she lectured him on his ignorance and the importance of hiding it until she could rectify the matter, then went on to the fact that tohhad to be met at all costs. She spent some time on that.

He was sure this was not what she had meant when she said she had to talk with him, but he was enjoying looking into her eyes too much to wonder. Enjoying it. Bit by bit he chased down the pleasure her eyes gave him and crushed it until only a dull ache remained.

He thought he had hidden it, but his face must have changed. Aviendha slowly trailed off and stood there staring at him, breathing hard. With a visible effort she pulled her eyes away. "At least you understand now," she muttered. "I must... I need to... So long as you understand." Gathering her skirts, she swept across the room – the corpse might as well have been a bush she had to step around – and out.

Leaving him in a room dimmer for some reason, alone with a dead man. That fit all too well. When gai’shaincame to bear away the Gray Man, they found Rand laughing softly.

Padan Fain sat with his feet up on a hassock, studying the beauty of new-breaking sunlight glittering on the curved blade of the dagger that he turned over and over in his hands. Carrying it at his belt was not enough; from time to time he simply had to handle it. The large ruby set in the pommel shone with a deep malevolence. The dagger was part of him, or he of it. The dagger was part of Aridhol, what men called Shadar Logoth, but then, he was part of Aridhol too. Or it was part of him. He was quite mad and knew it very well, but being mad, he did not care. Sunlight gleamed on steel, steel more deadly now than any made at Thakan’dar.

A rustling caught his ear, and he glanced toward where the Myrddraal sat waiting his pleasure on the far side of the room. It did not try to meet his gaze; he had broken it of that long since.

He tried to return to his contemplation of the blade, to the perfect beauty of perfect death, the beauty of what Aridhol had been and would be again, but the Myrddraal had broken his concentration. Spoiled it. He very nearly went over and killed the thing. Halfmen took a long time to die; how long if he used the dagger? As if sensing his thoughts, it stirred again. No, it could be useful still.

It was hard for him to concentrate on one thing for long anyway. Except Rand al’Thor, of course. He could feel al’Thor, could point to him, this close. Al’Thor pulled at him, pulled till it hurt. There was a difference lately, a difference that had come suddenly, almost as if someone else had suddenly taken a partial possession of al’Thor, and in doing so pushed away a part of Fain’s own possession. No matter. Al’Thor belonged to him.

He wished he could feel al’Thor’s pain; surely he had caused him pain at least. Pinpricks only so far, but enough pinpricks would drain him dry. The Whitecloaks were set hard against the Dragon Reborn. Fain’s lips peeled back in a sneer. Unlikely Niall would have ever supported al’Thor any more than Elaida would have, but it was best not to take too much for granted with Rand bloody al’Thor. Well, he had brushed them both with what he carried from Aridhol; they might possibly trust their own mothers, but never al’Thor now.

The door burst open, and young Perwyn Belman burst into the room pursued by his mother. Nan Belman was a handsome woman, though Fain seldom noticed whether a woman was or not now, a Darkfriend who had thought her oaths were just dabbling in wickedness until Padan Fain appeared on her doorstep. She believed him a Darkfriend too, one high in the councils. Fain had gone far beyond that, of course; he would be dead the moment one of the Chosen laid hands on him. The thought made him giggle.

Perwyn and his mother both shied at the sight of the Myrddraal, of course, but the boy recovered first and reached Fain while the woman was still trying to find her breath.

"Master Mordeth, Master Mordeth," the boy piped, dancing from foot to foot in his red-and-white coat, "I have news you wanted."

Mordeth. Had he used that name? Sometimes he could not recall what name he had used, what name was his. Sheathing the dagger beneath his coat, he put on a warm smile. "And what news would that be now, lad?"

"Someone tried to kill the Dragon Reborn this morning. A man. He’s dead now. He got right past all the Aiel and everything, right into the Lord Dragon’s rooms."

Fain felt his smile become a snarl. Trying to kill al’Thor? Al’Thor was his! Al’Thor would die by his hand, no other! Wait. The assassin had gotten past the Aiel, into al’Thor’s rooms? "A Gray Man!" He did not recognize that grating sound as his own voice. Gray Men meant the Chosen. Would he never be free of their interference?

All that rage had to go somewhere before he burst. Almost casually he brushed his hand across the boy’s face. The boy’s eyes bulged; he began trembling so hard his teeth rattled.

Fain did not really understand the tricks he could work. A bit of something from the Dark One, perhaps, a bit from Aridhol. It had been after there, after he stopped being just Padan Fain, that the ability began to manifest, slowly. All he knew was that he could do certain things now, as long as he could touch what he worked with.

Nan flung herself to her knees beside his chair, clutching at his coat. "Mercy, Master Mordeth," she panted. "Please, have mercy. He’s only a child. Only a child!"

For a moment he studied her curiously, head tilted. She was quite a pretty woman, really. Planting a foot against her chest, he shoved her aside so he could stand. The Myrddraal, peeking furtively, jerked its eyeless face away when it saw him watching. It remembered his... tricks very well.