She very much wished she dared turn him into a corpse. Her gown rippled through violent shades of red, echoing the anger and fear and shame that rippled through her uncontrollably. Very well, let him think her cowed for the moment. If he fed Mesaana to al’Thor, if he fed them all to al’Thor, so be it, so long as that kept al’Thor from her own throat. “I will try.”

“Do more than try, Graendal. More than try.”

When Graendal was gone, the gateway back to her palace in Arad Doman closed, Sammael let the smile dissolve on his face. His jaws ached from holding it. Graendal thought too much; she was so used to making others act for her that she failed to think of acting for herself. He wondered what she would say if she ever discovered that he had manipulated her as deftly as she had manipulated so many fools in her time. He would wager everything that she never saw his real purpose. So, Mesaana was inside the White Tower. Mesaana in the Tower, and Graendal in Arad Doman. Had Graendal been able to see his face then, she would have known real fear. Whatever happened, Sammael intended to be the one still standing on the Day of Return, to be named Nae’blis and defeat the Dragon Reborn.

CHAPTER
24

An Embassy

Turning away from the musicians on the street corner, a perspiring woman puffing at a long flute and a red-faced man plucking a nine-string bittern, Egwene threaded her way through the crowd with a light heart. The sun stood high in the sky, molten gold, and the paving stones were hot enough to burn through the soles of her soft boots. Sweat dripped from her nose, her shawl felt like a heavy blanket even looped loosely over her elbows, and there was enough dust in the air that she already wanted to wash, yet she smiled. Some people eyed her askance, when they thought she was not looking, which almost made her laugh. That was how they looked at Aiel. People saw what they expected to see, and they saw a woman in Aiel garb, never noticing her eyes or her height.