Shaido Wise Ones appearing in the camp did not help. At least, Therava and Emerys were Wise Ones; the third was Sevanna herself, striding around self-importantly with her blouse unlaced enough to rival Berelain no matter how the dust blew. Therava and Emerys said Sevanna was a Wise One, and though Sorilea grumbled, there was no choice but to accept her as one. Egwene was sure they were spying, but Amys merely looked at her when she suggested it. Protected by custom, they had a free run of the tents, welcomed by all the Wise Ones—even Sorilea—as if close friends or first-sisters. Still, their presence honed the edge of everyone’s mood. Especially Egwene’s. That smirking cat Sevanna knew who she was, and took no pains to hide her delight in sending “the short apprentice girl” to fetch a cup of water or the like at any opportunity. Sevanna looked at her, too, a studying sort of gaze. It made Egwene think of someone studying a chicken, thinking how to cook it after they stole it. Worse than that, the Wise Ones would not tell her what they talked about; it was Wise Ones’ business, and none of apprentices’. For whatever reason the Shaido were there, the mood among the other Wise Ones certainly interested them; more than once Egwene saw Sevanna, when she thought herself unobserved, smile as she watched Amys or Malindhe or Cosain stalk by talking to herself and needlessly adjusting her shawl. No one listened to Egwene, of course. Too many comments about the Shaido women finally earned her most of a day spent digging a hole “deep enough to stand in without being seen,” and when she climbed out, all sweat and filth to begin filling it in, Sevanna was watching.