“I don’t understand,” Elayne said slowly, and Birgitte sighed and let her head hang.

“I don’t know that I can live up to that. In other lives, I did what I had to, what seemed to be right, enough for Maerion or Joana or any woman. Now, I’m Birgitte of the stories. Everyone who knows will expect. I feel like a feather-dancer walking into a Tovan conclave.”

Elayne did not ask; when Birgitte mentioned things from past lives, the explanations were usually more confusing than ignorance. “That is nonsense,” she said firmly, taking the other woman by the arms. “I know, and I certainly don’t expect you to kill any giants. Egwene doesn’t either. And she already knows.”

“As long as I don’t admit it,” Birgitte muttered, “it is as if she didn’t. Don’t bother saying that’s nonsense too; I know it is, but that changes nothing.”

“Then what about this? She is the Amyrlin, and you are a Warder. She deserves your trust, Birgitte. She needs it.”

“Are you done with her yet?” Areina demanded from a pace away. “If you’re going to go away and leave me, the least you can do is help me with my archery the way you said you would.”

“I will think on it,” Birgitte told Elayne quietly. Turning to Areina, she caught the woman’s braid at the base of her neck. “We will speak of archery,” she said, pushing her up the street, “but first we will speak of manners.”

Shaking her head, Elayne suddenly remembered Aviendha and hurried on. The house was not far.

It took her a moment to recognize Aviendha. Elayne was used to seeing her in cadin’sor, with her dark reddish hair cut short, not in skirt and blouse and shawl with hair below her shoulders and held back from her face by a folded kerchief. At first glance, she did not appear to be in any difficulty. Sitting rather awkwardly in a chair—Aiel were unused to chairs—she seemed to be peacefully sipping tea with five sisters in a circle in the sitting room. Houses that sheltered Aes Sedai had such things, though Elayne and Nynaeve were still in their cramped little room. At second glance, Aviendha was casting hunted looks at the Aes Sedai over the rim of her teacup. There was no time for a third glance; on sight of Elayne, Aviendha jerked to her feet and dropped her cup to the clean-swept floor. Elayne had seen few Aiel except in the Stone of Tear, but she did know they hid their emotions, and Aviendha did it very well. Only now, naked pain painted her face.

“I’m sorry,” Elayne told the room smoothly, “but I must take her away from you for a little while. Perhaps you can talk to her later.”