The Dragon Reborn

"I will bring them down," she muttered. "Trying to sell me like a sheep! Hunting me like an animal! I am the hunter this time, not the rabbit! That Moiraine! If she had never come to Emond's Field, I could have taught Egwene enough. And Rand ... I could have... I could have done something." That she knew neither was true did not help; it made it worse. She hated Moiraine almost as much as she hated Liandrin and the Black Ajah, maybe as much as she hated the Seanchan.

She rounded a corner, and Juilin Sandar had to leap out of her way to keep from being trampled. Even used to them as he was, he nearly tripped over his own clogs, only his staff saving him from falling on his face in the mud. That pale, ridged wood was called bamboo, she had learned, and it was stronger than it looked.

"Mistress – uh – Mistress Maryim," Sandar said, regaining his balance. "I was... looking for you." He flashed her a nervous smile. "Are you angry? Why are you frowning at me that way?"

She smoothed her forehead. "I was not frowning at you, Master Sandar. The butcher... It does not matter. Why are you looking for me?" Her breath caught. "Have you found them?"

He looked around as if he suspected the passersby of trying to listen. "Yes. Yes, you must come back with me. The others are waiting. The others. And Mother Gue

"Why are you so nervous? You did not let them discover your interest?" she said sharply. "What has frightened you?"

"No! No, mistress. I – I did not reveal myself." His eyes darted again, and he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a breathy, urgent whisper. "These women you seek, they are in the Stone! Guests of a High Lord! The High Lord Samon! Why did you call them thieves? The High Lord Samon!" he almost squeaked. There was sweat on his face.

Inside the Stone! With a High Lord! Light, how do we reach them now? She suppressed her impatience with an effort. "Be easy," she said soothingly. "Be at ease, Master Sandar. We can explain everything to your satisfaction." I hope we can. Light, if he goes ru

He gave a short, uneasy nod, and walked alongside her, keeping his pace to what she could manage with the clogs. He looked as if he wanted to run.

At the Wise Woman's house, she hurried around to the back. No one ever used the front door, that she had seen, not even Mother Gue

Ailhuin Gue

Rage flooded her, washed away the walls inside that usually kept her from the Power, and as the basket fell from her hands, she was a white blossom on a blackthorn bush, opening to embrace saidar, opening... It was as if she had run into another wall, a wall of clear glass; she could feel the True Source, but the wall stopped everything except the ache to be filled with the One Power.

The basket hit the floor, and as it bounced, the door behind her opened and Liandrin stepped in, followed by a black-haired woman with a white streak above her left ear. They wore long, colorful silk dresses cut to bare their shoulders, and the glow of saidar surrounded them.

Liandrin smoothed her red dress and smiled with that pouting rosebud mouth. Her doll's face was filled with amusement. "You see, do you not, wilder," she began, "you have no – "

Nynaeve hit her in the mouth as hard as she could. Light, I have to get away. She backhanded Ria

Blows hit her from every side, like fists and sticks, pummeling her. Neither Liandrin, blood trickling from a corner of her now-grim mouth, nor Ria

The blows stopped, but Nynaeve could not stop quivering. She felt bruised and battered from crown to toe.

Liandrin crouched beside her, arms around her knees, silk rustling against silk. She had wiped the blood away from her mouth. Her dark eyes were hard, and there was no amusement on her face now. "Perhaps you are too stupid to know when you are defeated, wilder. You fought almost as wildly as that other foolish girl, that Egwene. She almost went mad. You must all learn to submit. You will learn to submit."

Nynaeve shivered and reached for saidar again. It was not that she had any real hope, but she had to do something. Forcing through her pain, she reached out... and struck that invisible shield. Liandrin did have amusement back in her eyes, now, the grim mirth of a nasty child who pulls the wings off flies.

"We have no use for this one, at least," Ria

"No!" Liandrin's short, honey-colored braids swung as her head snapped around. "Always you kill too quickly, and only the Great Lord can make use of the dead." She smiled at the woman held to the chair by invisible bonds. "You saw the soldiers who came with us, old woman. You know who waits for us in the Stone. The High Lord Samon, he will not be pleased if you speak of what happened inside your house today. If you hold your tongue, you will live, perhaps to serve him again one day. If you speak, you will serve only the Great Lord of the Dark, from beyond the grave. Which do you choose?"

Suddenly Ailhuin could move her head. She shook her gray curls, working her mouth. "I... I will hold my tongue," she said dejectedly, then gave Nynaeve an embarrassed, shamed look. "If I speak, what good will it do? A High Lord could have my head by raising an eyebrow. What good can I do you, girl? What good?"

"It is all right," Nynaeve said wearily. Who could she tell? All she could do is die. "I know you would help if you could." Ria

Between them, Liandrin and Ria

Nynaeve almost laughed. What trouble could I give? She was shielded from the True Source. Her bruises ached so much she could barely stand. Anything she might do, they could handle like a child's tantrum. But my bruises will heal, burn you, and you'll make a slip yet! And when you do...