Aviendha started, looking up, reaching for her knife so abruptly that she nearly spilled the pails of water. A woman with short, dark hair stood in the shade of the building a short distance away. Min Farshaw’s arms were folded and she wore a coat the color of cobalt with silver embroidery. She wore a scarf at her neck.

Aviendha settled back down, releasing her knife. Now she was letting wetlanders sneak up on her? “I am well,” she said, struggling to keep from blushing.

Her tone and actions should have indicated that she didn’t wish to be shamed by conversation, but Min didn’t seem to notice that. The woman turned and looked out over the camp. “Don’t . . . you have anything to be doing?”

Aviendha could not suppress the blush this time. “I am doing what I should.”

Min nodded, and Aviendha forced herself to still her breathing. She could not afford to grow angry at this woman. Her first-sister had asked her to be kind to Min. She decided not to take offense. Min didn’t know what she was saying.

“I thought that I could talk to you,” Min said, still looking out at the camp. “I’m not sure who else I could approach. I don’t trust the Aes Sedai, and neither does he. I’m not sure he trusts anyone, now. Maybe not even me.”

Aviendha glanced to the side, and saw that Min was watching Rand al’Thor as he moved through the camp, wearing a coat of black, gold-red hair ablaze in the afternoon light. He seemed to tower over the Saldaeans who attended him.

Aviendha had heard about the events the night before, when he had been attacked by Semirhage. One of the Shadowsouled themselves; Aviendha wished she had seen the creature before she was killed. She shuddered.

Rand al’Thor had fought and won. Though he acted the fool much of the time, he was a skilled—and lucky—warrior. Who else alive could claim to have personally defeated as many of the Shadowsouled as he had? There was much honor in him.

His fight had left him scarred in ways she did not yet understand. She could feel his pain. She’d felt it during Semirhage’s attack, too, though at first she’d mistakenly thought it to be a nightmare. She’d quickly realized that she was wrong. No nightmare could be that terrible. She could still feel echoes of that incredible pain, those waves of agony, the frenzy inside of him.

Aviendha had raised the alarm, but not quickly enough. She had toh to him for her mistake; she would deal with that once she was finished with her punishments. If she ever did finish.

“Rand al’Thor will deal with his problems,” she said, dripping more water.

“How can you say that?” Min asked, glancing at her. “Can’t you feel his pain?”

“I feel each and every moment of it,” Aviendha said through gritted teeth. “But he must face his own trials, just as I face mine. Perhaps there will be a day when he and I can face ours together, but that time is not now.”

I must be his equal, first, she added in her head. I will not stand beside him as his inferior.

Min studied her, and Aviendha felt a chill, wondering what visions the woman saw. Her predictions of the future were said always to come true.

“You are not what I expected,” Min finally said.

“I have deceived you?” Aviendha said, frowning.

“No, not that,” Min said with a small laugh. “I mean, I was wrong about you, I guess. I wasn’t certain what to think, after that night in Caemlyn when . . . well, that night when we bonded Rand together. I feel close to you, yet distant from you at the same time.” She shrugged. “I guess I expected you to come looking for me the moment you got into camp. We had things to discuss. When you didn’t, I worried. I thought perhaps I had offended you.”

“You have no toh to me,” Aviendha said.

“Good,” Min said. “I still worry sometimes that we’ll . . . come to a confrontation.”

“And what good would a confrontation serve?”

“I don’t know,” Min said with a shrug. “I figured it would be the Aiel way. Challenge me to a fight of honor. For him.”

Aviendha snorted. “Fight over a man? Who would do such a thing? If you had toh toward me, perhaps I could demand that we dance the spears—but only if you were a Maiden. And only if I were still one too. I suppose that we could fight with knives, but it would hardly be a fair fight. What honor would there to be gained in fighting one with no skill?”

Min flushed, as if Aviendha had offered her an insult. What a curious reaction. “I don’t know about that,” Min said, flipping a knife from her sleeve and spinning it across her knuckles. “I’m hardly defenseless.” She made the knife vanish up her other sleeve. Why was it that the wetlanders always showed off such flourishes with their knives? Thom Merrilin had been prone to that as well. Didn’t Min understand that Aviendha could have slit the woman’s throat thrice over during the time it took to flash that knife like a street performer? Aviendha said nothing, however. Min was obviously proud of the skill, and there was no need to embarrass the woman.

“It is unimportant,” Aviendha said, continuing her work. “I would not fight with you unless you gave me grave insult. My first-sister considers you a friend, and I would like to do so as well.”

“All right,” Min said, folding her arms and looking back at Rand. “Well, I guess that’s a good thing. I have to admit, I don’t much like the idea of sharing.”

Aviendha hesitated, then dipped her finger into the pail. “Neither do I.” At least, she didn’t like the idea of sharing with a woman she didn’t know very well.

“Then what do we do?”

“We continue as we have,” Aviendha said. “You have what you wish, and I am occupied by other matters. When it becomes a different time, I will inform you.”

“That’s . . . straightforward of you,” Min said, looking confused. “You have other matters to occupy you? Like dipping your finger in buckets of water?”

Aviendha blushed again. “Yes,” she snapped. “Just like that. You will excuse me.” She stood and strode away, leaving the buckets. She knew that she should not have lost her temper, but she could not help it. Min, repeatedly pointing out her punishment. Her inability to decipher what the Wise Ones wished of her. Rand al’Thor, constantly putting himself into danger, and Aviendha unable to lift a finger to help him.

She could stand it no longer. She crossed the brown thatch of the manor green, clenching and unclenching her fists, keeping her distance from Rand. The way this day was going, he’d notice her wrinkled finger and ask why she had been soaking it! If he discovered that the Wise Ones had been punishing her, he would probably do something rash and make a fool of himself. Men were like that, Rand al’Thor most of all.

She stalked across the springy ground, the brown thatch patterned with square impressions where tents had stood, threading her way through wetlanders scurrying this way and that. She passed a line of soldiers tossing sacks of grain to the next and loading them in a wagon hitched to two thick-hoofed draft horses.

She kept moving, trying to keep herself from exploding. The truth was, she felt just as likely to do something “rash” as Rand al’Thor would be. Why? Why couldn’t she decipher what she was doing wrong? The other Aiel in the camp seemed as ignorant as she, though of course they had not spoken to her of the punishments. She remembered well seeing similar punishments when she’d been a Maiden, and had always known to stay out of Wise Ones’ business.

She rounded the wagon, and found herself heading toward Rand al’Thor again. He was talking with three of Davram Bashere’s quartermasters, taller than each of them by a head. One of them, a man with a long black mustache, pointed toward the horselines and said something. Rand caught sight of Aviendha and raised his hand toward her, but she turned away quickly, moving toward the Aiel campsite at the north side of the green.

She ground her teeth, trying—unsuccessfully—to tame her anger. Did she not have a right to anger, if only at herself? The world was close to ending and she spent her days being punished! Ahead, she spotted a small cluster of Wise Ones—Amys, Bair and Melaine�

��standing beside a pile of brown tent packs. The tight, oblong bundles had straps for ease of carrying over the shoulder.

Aviendha should have returned to her pails and redoubled her efforts. But she did not. Like a child with a stick charging a narshcat, she stalked up to the Wise Ones, fuming.

“Aviendha?” Bair asked. “Have you finished your punishment already?”

“No I have not,” Aviendha said, stopping in front of them, hands fists at her sides. Wind tugged at her shirt, but she let it flap. Hurrying camp workers—both Aiel and Saldaean—gave the group a wide berth.

“Well?” Bair asked.

“You are not learning quickly enough,” Amys added, shaking her white-haired head.

“Not learning quickly enough?” Aviendha demanded. “I have learned everything you have asked of me! I have memorized every lesson, repeated every fact, performed every duty. I have answered all your questions and have seen you nod in approval at each answer!”

She stared them down before continuing. “I can channel better than any Aiel woman alive,” she said. “I have left behind the spears, and I welcome my place among you. I have done my duty and sought honor on each occasion. Yet you continue to give me punishments! I will have no more of it. Either tell me what it is you wish of me or send me away.”

She expected anger from them. She expected disappointment. She expected them to explain that a mere apprentice was not to question full Wise Ones. She expected, at least, to be given greater punishment for her temerity.

Amys glanced at Melaine and Bair. “It is not we who punish you, child,” she said, seeming to choose her words with care. “These punishments come by your own hand.”

“Whatever I have done,” Aviendha said, “I cannot see that it would have you make me da’tsang. You shame yourselves by treating me so.”

“Child,” Amys said, meeting her eyes. “Are you rejecting our punishments?”

“Yes,” she said, heart thumping. “I am.”

“You think your stakes as strong as ours, do you?” Bair asked, shading her aged face with her hand. “You presume to be our equal?”

Their equal? Aviendha thought, panic setting in. I’m not their equal! I have years left to study. What am I doing?

Could she back down now? Beg forgiveness, meet her toh somehow? She should hurry back to her punishment and move the waters. Yes! That is what she needed to do. She had to go and—

“I see no more reason to study,” she found herself saying instead. “If these punishments are all you have left to teach me, then I must assume that I have learned all that I must. I am ready to join you.”

She gritted her teeth, waiting for an explosion of furious incredulity. What was she thinking? She shouldn’t have let Min’s foolish talk rile her so.

And then Bair started to laugh.

It was a full-bellied sound, incongruous coming from the small woman. Melaine joined her, the sun-haired Wise One holding her stomach, slightly bulging from her pregnancy. “She took even longer than you, Amys!” Melaine exclaimed. “As stubborn a girl as I’ve ever seen.”

Amys’ expression was uncharacteristically soft. “Welcome, sister,” she said to Aviendha.

Aviendha blinked. “What?”

“You are one of us now, girl!” Bair said. “Or soon will be.”

“But I defied you!”

“A Wise One cannot allow others to step upon her,” Amys said. “If she comes into the shade of our sisterhood thinking like an apprentice, then she will never see herself as one of us.”

Bair glanced at Rand al’Thor, who stood in the distance talking to Sarene. “I never realized how important our ways were until I studied these Aes Sedai. Those at the bottom simper and beg like hounds, and are ignored by those who consider themselves their betters. It is a wonder they achieve anything!”

“But there is rank among Wise Ones,” Aviendha said. “Is there not?”

“Rank?” Amys looked puzzled. “Some of us have more honor than others, earned by wisdom, actions and experience.”

Melaine held up a finger. “But it is important—vital, even—that each Wise One be willing to defend her own well. If she believes that she is right, she cannot let herself be shoved aside, even by other Wise Ones, no matter how aged or wise.”

“No woman is ready to join us until she has declared herself ready,” Amys continued. “She must present herself as our equal.”

“A punishment is not a true punishment unless you accept it, Aviendha,” Bair said, still smiling. “We thought you ready weeks ago, but you stubbornly continued to obey.”

“Almost, I began to think you prideful, girl,” Melaine added with a fond smile.

“Girl no longer,” Amys said.

“Oh, she’s still a girl,” Bair said. “Until one more thing is done.”

Aviendha felt dazed. They’d said she wasn’t learning quickly enough. Learning to stand up for herself! Aviendha had never allowed others to push her around, but these weren’t “others”—they were Wise Ones, and she the apprentice. What would have happened if Min hadn’t riled her? She would have to thank the woman, although Min didn’t realize what she’d done.

Until one more thing is done . . . “What must I still do?” Aviendha asked.

“Rhuidean,” Bair said.

Of course. A Wise One visited that most sacred city twice in her life. Once when she became an apprentice, once when she became a full Wise One.

“Things will be different, now,” Melaine said. “Rhuidean is no longer what it once was.”

“That is no reason to abandon the old ways,” Bair replied. “The city may be open, but nobody will be foolish enough to walk through the pillars. Aviendha, you must—”

“Bair,” Amys cut in, “if it is well with you, I would prefer to tell her.”

Bair hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, of course. It is only right. We turn our backs on you now, Aviendha. We will not see you again until you return to us as a sister returning from a long journey.”

“A sister we had forgotten that we knew,” Melaine said, smiling. The two turned from her, then Amys began to walk toward the Traveling ground. Aviendha hurried to catch up.

“You may wear your clothing this time,” Amys said, “as it is the mark of your station. Normally, I would suggest that you travel to the city by foot, even though we know of Traveling now, but I think that custom is best bent in this case. Still, you should not Travel directly to the city. I suggest Traveling to Cold Rocks Hold and walk from there. You must spend time in the Three-fold Land to contemplate your journey.”

Aviendha nodded. “I will need a waterskin and supplies there.”

“Ready and waiting for you at the hold,” Amys said. “We’ve been expecting you to leap this chasm soon. You should have leapt it days ago, considering all the hints we gave you.” She eyed Aviendha, who glanced down at the ground.

“You have no reason for shame,” Amys said. “That burden is upon us. Despite Bair’s joking, you did well. Some women spend months and months being punished before deciding that they have had enough. We had to be hard on you, child—harder than I’ve ever seen a ready apprentice treated. There is just so little time!”

“I understand,” Aviendha said. “And . . . thank you.”

Amys snorted. “You forced us to be very creative. Remember this time you spent and the shame you felt, for it is the shame any da’tsang will know, should you consign them to their fate. And they cannot escape it simply by demanding release.”

“What do you do if an apprentice declares herself ready to be a Wise One during her first few months of training?”

“Strap her a few times and set her digging holes, I suspect,” Amys said. “I don’t know of that ever happening. The closest was Sevanna.”

Aviendha had wondered why the Wise Ones had accepted the Shaido woman without complaint. Her declaration had been enough: and so Amys and the others had been forced to accept her.

Amys pulled her shawl close. “There is a

bundle for you with the Maidens guarding the Traveling ground. Once you reach Rhuidean, travel to the center of the city. You will find the pillars of glass. Pass through the center of them, then return here. Spend well your days running to the city. We pushed you hard so that you would have this time for contemplation. It is likely the last you will have for some while.”

Aviendha nodded. “The battle comes.”

“Yes. Return quickly once you pass through the pillars. We will need to discuss how to best handle the Car’a’carn. He has . . . changed since last night.”

“I understand,” Aviendha said, taking a deep breath.

“Go,” Amys said, “and return.” She put emphasis on the final word. Some women did not survive Rhuidean.

Aviendha met Amys’ eyes, and nodded. Amys had been a second mother to her in many ways. She was rewarded by a rare smile. Then Amys turned her back to Aviendha, just as the other two had.

Aviendha took another deep breath, glancing back across the trampled grass before the manor house to where Rand spoke with the quartermasters, his expression stern, the arm missing a hand held folded behind his back, the other arm gesturing animatedly. She smiled at him, though he wasn’t looking in her direction.

I will be back for you, she thought.

Then she trotted to the Traveling ground, collected the pack and wove a gateway that would deposit her a safe distance from Cold Rocks Hold, beside a rock formation known as the Maiden’s Spear, from which she could run to the hold and prepare herself. The gateway opened to the familiar, dry air of the Waste.

She ducked through the gateway, exulting—finally—in what had just happened.

Her honor had returned.

“I came out through a small watergate, Aes Sedai,” Shemerin said, bowing her head before the others in the tent. “In truth, it wasn’t so difficult, once I left the Tower and got into the city. I didn’t dare leave by one of the bridges. I couldn’t let the Amyrlin know what I was doing.”

Romanda watched, arms folded. Her tent was lit by two brass lamps, flames dancing at the tips. Six women listened to the runaway’s story. Lelaine was there, for all that Romanda had tried to keep her from hearing about the meeting. Romanda had hoped that the slender Blue would be too busy basking in her status in camp to bother with such a seemingly trivial event.