A woman caught his eye, a pretty woman in odd clothes, wide yellow trousers and a short white coat, her golden hair in an elaborate braid to her waist. She was carrying a bow, of all things. Not many women took up the bow. She saw him looking and ducked down a narrow alleyway. Something about her tickled his memory, but he could not say what. That was one trouble with all those old memories; he was always seeing people who reminded him of somebody who turned out to be a thousand years dead when he finally figured it out. Maybe he had even really seen somebody who looked like her. Those holes in what he remembered of his own life were fuzzy around the edges. Probably another Hunter for the Horn, he thought wryly, and put her out of his head.

There was no point in riding about until somebody spoke, because it seemed nobody was going to. Mat reined in and nodded to a thin, dark-haired woman who looked up at him, coolly questioning. Pretty, but too skinny for his taste even without that ageless face. Who wanted to be poked by bones every time you gave a hug? “My name is Mat Cauthon,” he said neutrally. If she wanted bowing and scraping, she could take a leap, but antagonizing her would just be foolish. “I’m looking for Elayne Trakand and Egwene al’Vere. And Nynaeve al’Meara, I suppose.” Rand had not mentioned her, but she had gone off with Elayne, he knew.

The Aes Sedai blinked in surprise, yet serenity returned in a flash. She studied him and the others one by one, pausing on Aviendha, then looked at the squadmen so long Mat wondered whether she could see the Dragon and the black-and-white disc through the folded cloth. “Follow me,” she said finally. “I will see whether the Amyrlin Seat can see you.” Gathering her skirts, she started up the street.

As Mat heeled Pips to follow, Vanin let his dun drop back and muttered, “Asking Aes Sedai for anything is never a good notion. I could have shown you where to go.” He jerked his head toward a three-story stone cube ahead. “They call it the Little Tower.”

Mat shrugged uneasily. The Little Tower? And they had somebody here they called the Amyrlin Seat? He doubted the woman had meant Elaida. Rand was wrong again. This lot were not frightened. They were too puffed-up crazy to be frightened.

In front of the stone cube, the skinny Aes Sedai said peremptorily, “Wait here,” and vanished inside.