“That gown will frame your unfolding bravery to perfection,” he murmured in her ear, “yet not a quarter so well as you display yourself, for nightblooming dara lilies would weep with envy to see you stroll beside the moonlit water, as I would do, and make myself a bard to sing your praises by this very moon.”

She blinked at him, working that out. Luca seemed to believe she was fluttering her lashes; she accidentally hit him in the ribs with her elbow before he could nibble her ear. At least that seemed to be his intention, even if he was coughing now and claiming he had swallowed a cake crumb the wrong way. The man was certainly handsome — Stop that! — and he did have a shapely calf — What are you doing, looking at his legs? — but he must think her a brainless ninny. It was all in aid of his bloody show.

She moved her stool again while he was trying to get his breath back; she could not move it far without making it clear that she was running from him, though she held her fork ready in case he followed again. Thom studied his plate as though more than a smear remained on the white glaze. Juilin whistled tunelessly and nearly silently, peering into the dying fire with false intensity. Elayne looked at her and shook her head.

“It was so pleasant of you to join us,” Nynaeve said, and stood up. Luca stood when she did, a hopeful look in his eye along with the shine of the firelight. She set her plate atop the one in his hand. “Thom and Juilin will be grateful for your help with the dishes, I am sure.” Before his mouth finished falling open, she turned to Elayne. “It is late, and I expect we'll be moving across the river early.”

“Of course,” Elayne murmured, with just the hint of a smile. And she put her plate atop Nynaeve's before following her into the wagon. Nynaeve wanted to hug her. Until she said, “Really, you should not encourage him.” Lamps mounted in wall brackets sprang alight.

Nynaeve planted her fists on her hips. “Encourage him! The only way I could encourage him less would be to stab him!” Sniffing for emphasis, she frowned at the lamps. “Next time, use one of Aludra's firesticks. Strikers. You are going to forget one day and channel where you shouldn't, and then where will we be? Running for our lives with a hundred Whitecloaks after us.”

Stubborn to a fault, the other woman refused to be diverted. “I may be younger than you, but sometimes I think I know more of men than you ever will. For a man like Valan Luca, that coy little flight of yours tonight was only asking him to keep pursuing you. If you would snap his nose off the way you did the first day, he might give up. You don't tell him to stop, you do not even ask! You kept smiling at him, Nynaeve. What is the man supposed to think? You haven't smiled at anyone in days!”

“I am trying to hold my temper,” Nynaeve muttered. Everybody complained about her temper, and now that she was trying to control it, Elayne complained about that! It was not that she was fool enough to be taken in by his compliments. She certainly was not so big a fool as that. Elayne laughed at her, and she scowled.

“Oh, Nynaeve. 'You cannot hold the sun down at dawn.' Lini could have been thinking of you.”

With an effort Nynaeve smoothed her face. She could too hold her temper. Didn't I just prove it out there? She held out her hand. “Let me have the ring. He will want to cross the river early tomorrow, and I want at least some real sleep after I'm done.”

“I thought I would go tonight.” Concern touched Elayne's voice. “Nynaeve, you've been entering Tel'aran'rhiod practically every night except the meetings with Egwene. That Bair intends to pick a bone with you, by the way. I had to tell them why you weren't there yet again, and she says you should not need rest however often you enter, unless you are doing something wrong.” Concern became firmness, and the younger woman planted her fists on her hips. “I had to listen to a lecture that was meant for you, and it was not pleasant, with Egwene standing there nodding her head to every word. Now; I really think that tonight I should—”

“Please, Elayne.” Nynaeve did not lower her outstretched hand. “I have questions for Birgitte, and her answers might make me think of more.” She did have, sort of; she could always think of questions for Birgitte. It had nothing to do with avoiding Egwene, and the Wise Ones. If she visited Tel'aran'rhiod so often that Elayne always went to the meetings with Egwene, that was simply how it fell out.

Elayne sighed, but fished the twisted stone ring from the neck of her dress. “Ask her again, Nynaeve. It is very difficult facing Egwene. She saw Birgitte. She doesn't say anything, but she looks at me. It is worse when we meet again after the Wise Ones have gone. She could ask then, and she still doesn't, and that makes it far worse.” She frowned as Nynaeve transferred the small ter'angreal to the leather cord around her own neck, with Lan's heavy ring and her Great Serpent. “Why do you suppose none of the Wise Ones ever come with her then? We don't learn very much in Elaida's study, but you would think they would at least want to see the Tower. Egwene doesn't even want to talk about it in front of them. If I seem to come close, she gives me such a look that you'd think she meant to hit me.”

“I think they want to avoid the Tower as much as possible.” And wise they were indeed for that. If not for Healing, she would avoid it, and Aes Sedai, too. She was not becoming Aes Sedai; she was just hoping to learn more of Healing. And to help Rand, certainly. “They are free women, Elayne. Even if the Tower was not in the mess it is, would they really want Aes Sedai traipsing through the Waste, scooping them up to carry back to Tar Valon?”

“I suppose that is it.” Elayne's tone said she could not understand it, though. She thought the Tower wonderful, and could not see why any woman would want to evade Aes Sedai. Sealed to the White Tower forever, they said when they put that ring on your finger. And they meant it. Yet the fool girl did not see it as onerous at all.

Elayne helped her undress, and she stretched out on her narrow bed in her shift, yawning. It had been a long day, and it was surprising how tiring standing still could be when someone unseen was hurling knives at you. Idle thoughts drifted through her head as she closed her eyes. Elayne had claimed she was practicing when she had acted the fool with Thom. Not that the fondfatherandfavoritedaughter they tried on now was much less foolish to watch. Maybe she could practice herself, just a bit, with Valan. Now, that was foolish. Men's eyes might wander — Lan's had better not! — but she knew how to be constant. She was simply not going to wear that




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