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behind the tapestry, held them to a lamp flame and dropped them into the bowl to burn.

They were only directions as to where the message was to be left, one meant for each

woman in the chain, the extra strips merely a way of disguising how many links the

message had to go through to reach its recipient. Too many precautions were an

impossibility. Even the sisters of her own heart believed her no more than they. Only

three on the Supreme Council knew who she was, and she would have avoided that had it

been possible. There could never be too many precautions, especially now.

The message, once she worked it out, bending to write on another sheet, was much as she

had expected since the previous night when Talene failed to appear. The woman had left

the Green quarters early yesterday carrying fat saddlebags and a small chest. Not having

a servant carry them; she had performed the task herself. No one seemed to know where

she had gone. The question was, had she panicked on receiving her summons to the

Supreme Council, or was there something more? Something more, Alviarin decided.

Talene had looked to Yukiri and Doesine as though seeking…guidance, perhaps. She was

sure she had not imagined it. Could she have? A very small seed of hope. There must be

something more. She needed a threat to the Black, or the Great Lord would withdraw his

protection.

Angrily, she pulled her hand away from her forehead.

She never considered using the small ter’angreal she had hidden away to call Mesaana.

For one thing, one very important thing, the woman surely intended to kill her, very

likely despite the Great Lord’s protection. On the instant, if that protection were lost. She

had seen Mesaana’s face, knew of her humiliation. No woman would let that pass,

especially not one of the Chosen. Every night she dreamed of killing Mesaana, often

daydreamed of how to manage it successfully, yet that must wait on finding her without

the woman knowing herself found. In the meanwhile, she needed more proof. It was

possible that neither Mesaana nor Shaidar Haran would see Talene as verification of

anything. Sisters had panicked and run in the past, if rarely, and assuming Mesaana and

the Great Lord were ignorant of that would be dangerous.

In turn she touched the ciphered message and the clear copy to the lamp flame and held

each by a corner until they had burned nearly to her fingers before dropping them atop

the ashes in the bowl. With a smooth black stone that she kept as a paperweight, she

crushed the ashes and stirred them about. She doubted that anyone could reconstitute

words from ash, but even so….

Still standing, she deciphered the other two messages and learned that Yukiri and

Doesine both slept in rooms warded against intrusion. That was unsurprising—hardly a

sister in the Tower slept without warding these days—but it meant kidnapping either

would be difficult. That was always easiest when carried out in the depths of the night by

sisters of the woman’s own Ajah. It might yet turn out those glances were happenstance,

or imagination. She needed to consider the possibility.

With a sigh, she gathered more of the small books from the chest and gently eased herself

onto the goose-down cushion on the chair at the writing table. Not gently enough to stop

a wince as her weight settled, though. She barely stifled a whimper. At first, she had

thought the humiliation of Silviana’s strap far worse than the pain, but the pain no longer

really faded. Her bottom was a mass of bruises. And tomorrow, the Mistress of Novices

would add to them. And the day after that, and the day after…. A bleak vision of endless

days howling under Silviana’s strap, of fighting to meet the eyes of sisters who knew all

about the visits to Silviana’s study.

Trying to chase those thoughts away, she dipped a good steel-nibbed pen and began to

write out ciphered orders on thin sheets of paper. Talene must be found and brought back,

of course. For punishment and execution, if she had simply panicked, and if she had not,

if she had somehow found a way to betray her oaths…. Alviarin clung to that hope while

she commanded a close watch put on Yukiri and Doesine. A way had to be found to take

them. And if they were caught up in chance and imagination, something could still be

manufactured from whatever they said. She would guide the flows in the circle.

Something could be made.

She wrote furiously, unaware that her free hand had risen to her forehead, searching for

the mark.

Afternoon sunlight slanted through the tall trees on the ridge above the vast Shaido

encampment, dappling the air, and songbirds trilled on the branches overhead. Redbirds

and bluejays flashed by, slashes of color, and Galina smiled. Heavy rain had fallen in the

morning, and the air still held a touch of coolness beneath sparse, slowly drifting white

clouds. Likely her gray mare, with its arched neck and lively step, had been the property

of a noblewoman, or at the least a wealthy merchant. No one else but a sister could have

afforded such a fine animal. She enjoyed these rides on the horse she had named Swift,

because one day it would carry her swiftly to freedom; just as she enjoyed this time alone

to dwell on what she would do once she had her freedom. She had plans for repaying

those who had failed her, beginning with Elaida. Thinking about those plans, about their

eventual fruition, was most enjoyable.

At least, she enjoyed her rides so long as she managed to forget that the privilege was as

much a mark of how thoroughly Therava owned her as were the thick white silk robe she

wore and her firedrop-studded belt and collar. Her smile faded into a grimace.

Adornments for a pet that was allowed to amuse itself when not required to amuse its

owner. And she could not remove those jeweled markers, even out here. Someone might

see. She rode here to get away from the Aiel, yet they could be encountered in the forest,

too. Therava might learn of it. Difficult as it was to admit to herself, she feared the hawk-

eyed Wise One to her bones. Therava filled her dreams, and they were never pleasant.

Often she woke sweat-soaked and weeping. Waking from those nightmares was always a

relief, whether or not she managed to get any sleep for the rest of the night.

There was never any order against escape on these rides, an order she would have had to

obey, and that lack produced its own bitterness. Therava knew she would return, no

matter how she was mistreated, in the hope that some day the Wise One might remove

that cursed oath of obedience. She would be able to channel again, when and as she

wished. Sevanna sometimes made her channel to perform menial tasks, or just to

demonstrate that she could command it, but that occurred so seldom that she hungered for

even that chance to embrace saidar. Therava refused to let her so much as touch the

Power unless she begged and groveled, but then refused her permission to channel a

thread. And she had groveled, abased herself completely, just to be granted that scrap.

She realized that she was grinding her teeth, and forced herself to stop.

Perhaps the Oath Rod in the Tower could lift that oath from her as well as the nearly

identical rod in Therava’s possession, yet she could not be sure. The two were not

identical. It was only a difference in marking, yet what if that indicated that an oath

sworn on one was particular to that rod? She dared not leave without Therava’s rod. The

Wise One often left it lying in the open in her tent, but you will never pick that up, she

had said.

Oh, Galina could touch that wrist-thick white rod, stroke its smooth surface, yet however

hard she strained, she could not make her hand close on it. Not unless someone handed it

to her. At least, she hoped that would not count as picking the thing up. It had to be so.

Just the thought that it might not be filled her with bleakness. The yearning in her eyes

when she gazed at the rod brought Therava’s rare smiles.

Does my little Lina want to be free of her oath? she would say mockingly. Then Lina

must be a very good pet, because the only way I will consider freeing you is for you to

convince me that you will remain my pet even then.

A lifetime of being Therava’s plaything and the target for her temper? A surrogate to be

beaten whenever Therava raged against Sevanna? Bleakness was not strong enough to

describe her feelings on that. Horror was more like it. She feared she might go mad if that

happened. And equally, she feared there might be no escape into madness.

Mood thoroughly soured, she shaded her eyes to check the height of the sun. Therava had

merely said that she would like her back before dark, and a good two hours of daylight

remained, but she sighed with regret and immediately turned Swift downslope through

the trees toward the camp. The Wise One enjoyed finding ways to enforce obedience

without direct commands. A thousand ways to make her crawl. For safety, the woman’s

slightest suggestion must be taken as a command. Being a few minutes late brought

punishments that made Galina cringe at the memories. Cringe and heel the mare to a

faster pace through the trees. Therava accepted no excuses.

Abruptly an Aielman stepped out in front of her from behind a thick tree, a very tall man

in cadin’sor with his spears thrust through the harness that held his bowcase on his back

and his veil hanging on his chest. Without speaking, he seized her bridle.

For an instant, she gaped at him, then drew herself up indignantly. “Fool!” she snapped.

“You must know me by now. Release my horse, or Sevanna and Therava will take turns

removing your skin!”

These Aiel usually showed little on their faces, yet she thought his green eyes widened

slightly. And then she screamed as he seized the front of her robe in a huge fist and

jerked her from the saddle.

“Be silent, gai’shain,” he said, but as though he cared nothing for whether she obeyed.

At one time she would have had to, but once they realized that she obeyed any order from

anyone, there had been too many who enjoyed sending her on foolish errands that kept

her occupied when Therava or Sevanna wanted her. Now, she need obey only certain

Wise Ones and Sevanna, so she kicked and flailed and screamed in desperate hope of

attracting someone who knew she belonged to Therava. If only she were allowed to carry

a knife. Even that would have been a help. How could this man not recognize her, or at

least know what her jeweled belt and collar meant? The encampment was immense, as

filled with people as many large cities, yet it seemed that everyone could point out

Therava’s pet wetlander. The woman would have this fellow skinned, and Galina meant

to enjoy every minute of watching.

All too quickly it became apparent that a knife would have been no use at all. Despite her

struggles, the brute handled her easily, pulling her cowl down over her head, blinding her,

then stuffing as much of it as he could into her mouth before binding it there. Then he

flipped her face down and bound her wrists and ankles tightly. As easily as if she had

been a child! She still thrashed, but it was wasted effort.

“He wanted some gai’shain that aren’t Aiel, Gaul, but a gai’shain in silk and jewels, and

out riding?” a man said, and Therava stiffened. That was no Aielman. Those were the

accents of Murandy! “Sure and that’s none of your ways, is it?”

“Shaido.” The word was spat out like a curse.

“Well, we still need to find a few more if he’s to learn anything useful. Maybe more than

a few. There are tens of thousands of folks in white down there, and she could be

anywhere among them.”

“I think maybe this one can tell Perrin Aybara what he needs to know, Fager Neald.”

If she had stiffened before, now she froze. Ice seemed to form in her stomach, and in her

heart. Perrin Aybara had sent these men? If he attacked the Shaido trying to rescue his

wife, he would be killed, destroying her leverage with Faile. The woman would not care

what was revealed, with her man dead, and the others had no secrets they feared having

known. In horror, Galina saw her hopes of obtaining the rod melting away. She had to

stop him. But how?

“And why would be you thinking that, Gaul?”

“She is Aes Sedai. And a friend of Sevanna, it seems.”

“Is she, now?” the Murandian said in a thoughtful tone. “Is she that?”

Strangely, neither man sounded the least uneasy over laying hands on an Aes Sedai. And

the Aielman apparently had done so fully aware of what she was. Even if he was a

renegade Shaido, he had to be ignorant of the fact that she could not channel without