It was slightly cooler in what had been the common room when the Little Tower was an inn, offering a little relief to her aching head. Everyone called it “the waiting room” now. No time had been wasted for repairs here. The fireplaces had stones missing, and lathing showed through holes in the plaster. Areina and Nicola were working brooms with another novice, but making little impression on the age-roughened floor; Areina wore a scowl, but, then, she was never pleased at having to do chores with the novices. No one went choreless in Salidar. At the far end of the room Romanda was speaking with two slender, aged Aes Sedai—their faces might be ageless, but their hair was white—plainly new arrivals by the thin dustcloaks still hanging down their backs. No sign of Myrelle, which brought a sigh of relief; the woman raked Nynaeve over the coals at every opportunity, then raked her the other way! Aes Sedai sat at tables, mismatched but carefully arranged in rows, working over parchments or issuing orders to Warders and servants, but fewer than the first time she had seen the room. Only the Sitters and their servants lived on the floors above now; everyone else had been removed to make space for Aes Sedai to work in. The Little Tower had taken on attributes of the White Tower, the precise formality above all. When Nynaeve first saw this room it had had a bustle about it, an air of something being done. A false air, then. Now it seemed almost slow, but it was the feel of the White Tower.

Approaching one of the tables, not the nearest, she curtsied carefully. “Pardon, Aes Sedai, but I was told Siuan and Leane are here. Could you tell me where to find them?”

Brendas’ pen stopped moving and she looked up with cool dark eyes. Nynaeve had chosen her instead of someone nearer the door because Brendas was one of the few Aes Sedai who had never grilled her about Rand. Besides, once, when Siuan was Amyrlin, Siuan had chosen Brendas as one who could be trusted. That had nothing to do with this, but Nynaeve found small comforts where she could.

“They are with some of the Sitters, child.” Brendas’ voice was chimes, as emotionless as her pale face. Whites seldom showed emotion, but Brendas never showed any.

Nynaeve stifled an irritated sigh. If Sitters had them reporting on their eyes-and-ears, they might not be free for hours yet. Maybe not for the rest of the day. By then she would be head-down among the pots. “Thank you, Aes Sedai.”

Brendas stopped her curtsy with a gesture. “Did Theodrin make any progress with you yesterday?”