Mat wondered who was going to win that staring match, but before he could make a bet with himself, another Aes Sedai joined them, a woman whose bony-cheeked face gave an impression of age despite smooth cheeks and glossy brown hair. “Do you be aware you can channel, girl?”

“I am,” Aviendha said curtly and snapped her mouth shut as if intending to say no more. She concentrated on adjusting her shawl, but she had said enough. Aes Sedai swarmed in around her, crowding Mat away.

“How old are you, child?”

“You have developed much strength, but you could learn very much as a novice.”

“Do many Aiel girls die of a wasting sickness when they are a few years younger than you?”

“How long have you . . . ?”

“You could. . . .”

“You really should. . . .”

“You must. . . .”

Nynaeve appeared in the doorway so suddenly she seemed to pop out of the air. Planting her fists on her hips, she stared at Mat. “What are you doing here, Matrim Cauthon? How did you get here? I suppose it’s too much to hope you have anything to do with this army of Dragonsworn that’s about to descend on us.”

“Actually,” he said dryly, “I am in command.”

“You . . . !” Nynaeve stood there with her mouth open, then gave herself a shake, tugging at her blue dress as if it had been disarrayed. It was cut lower than anything he remembered seeing her wear before, low enough to show cleavage, with yellow scrollwork around the neckline and hem. Altogether different from what she had worn back home. “Well, come with me,” she said sharply. “I’ll take you to the Amyrlin.”

“Mat Cauthon,” Aviendha called, a touch breathily. She was looking over and around Aes Sedai to find him. “Mat Cauthon.” Just that, but for an Aiel, she looked frantic.

The Aes Sedai surrounding her kept right on, voices calm, reasonable and relentless.

“For you, the best thing, it is to. . . .”

“You must consider. . . .”

“Much the best. . . .”

“You can hardly think of. . . .”

Mat grinned. She might pull her knife in a moment, but in that crowd he doubted it would do her much good. She would not be hunting up Elayne any time soon, that was for sure. Wondering whether he would return to find her wearing a white dress, he tossed his spear up to Vanin. “Lead on, Nynaeve. Let’s see this Amyrlin of yours.”

She gave him a tight frown and led him inside tugging at her braid and muttering only partly to herself. “This is Rand’s doing, isn’t it? I know it is. Somehow it is. Frightening everybody half out of their wits. You just watch your step, Lord General Cauthon, or I swear you will wish I’d caught you stealing blueberries again. Frightening people! Even a man should have more sense! You stop that grinning, Mat Cauthon. I do not know what she’s going to make of this.”