That did not seem to surprise him, either. What sort of men were these Asha’man? Was their so-called Black Tower a murder pit? The tightness went out of his arm, though, and suddenly he was just a road-weary young man who needed to shave. “Light!” he breathed. “What do we do now, Loial? Where do we go?”

“I … don’t know,” Loial replied, his shoulders sagging tiredly and his long ears drooping. “I … We have to find him, Karldin. Somehow. We can’t give up now. We have to let him know we did what he asked. As much as we could.”

And what was it al’Thor had asked, Samitsu wondered. With a little luck, she could learn a great deal from these two. A tired man, or Ogier, feeling lost and alone, was ripe for answering questions.

Karldin gave a small jump, his hand tightening on his sword hilt, and she bit back a curse of her own as a palace serving woman came running into the room with her skirts gathered almost to her knees. “Lord Dobraine’s been murdered!” the serving woman squealed. “We will all be killed in our beds! My own eyes have seen the dead walking, old Maringil himself, and my mam says spirits will kill you if there has been a murder done! They—” Her mouth froze open when she caught the presence of Aes Sedai, and she skidded to a halt still clutching her skirts. The kitchen folk seemed frozen, too, all watching the Aes Sedai from the corners of their eyes to see what they would do.

“Not Dobraine,” Loial moaned, ears laying flat against his head. “Not him.” He looked as much angry as saddened, his face stony. Samitsu did not think she had ever seen an Ogier angry.

“What is your name?” Sashalle demanded of the serving woman before Samitsu could even part her lips. “How do you know he was murdered? How do you even know he’s dead?”

The woman swallowed, her eyes held by Sashalle’s cool gaze. “Cera, Aes Sedai?” she said hesitantly, bending her knees in a curtsy and only then realizing that she still had her skirts gathered up. Hastily smoothing them down only seemed to fluster her more. “Cera Doinal? They say … Everybody says Lord Dobraine is … I mean, he was … I mean…” She swallowed again, hard. “They all say his rooms are covered with blood. He was found lying in a great pool of it. With his head cut off, they say.”

“They say a great many things,” Sashalle said grimly, “and usually they’re wrong. Samitsu, you will come with me. If Lord Dobraine has been injured, you may be able to do something for him. Loial, Karldin, you come, too. I don’t want you out of my sight before I have a chance to ask a few questions.”

“Burn your questions!” the young Asha’man growled, shouldering his belongings. “I’m leaving!”