He grinned at her insolently, and the way he eyed her up and down, he was lucky Elayne did not slap him hard enough to loosen all his teeth. “You, my fine Lady, I am taking back to Caemlyn if I have to tie you up in a package to hand to Rand, burn me if I don’t. And I will bloody well leave when I choose.” His bow was mocking, to Elayne and to Egwene. Nynaeve got only a glower and another shake of his finger.

“How can Rand have such a low, insufferable lout for a friend?” Elayne asked no one in particular before the door was well closed behind him.

“His language has certainly slipped downhill,” Nynaeve grumbled darkly, tossing her head so her braid swung over her shoulder. Egwene thought she might be afraid she would pull it out by the roots if she did not put it out of reach.

“I should have let him do as he wanted, Nynaeve. You have to remember you’re Aes Sedai now. You can’t go around kicking people, or boxing their ears, or thumping them with sticks.” Nynaeve stared at her, mouth working, face growing redder and redder. Elayne began assiduously studying the carpet.

With a sigh, Egwene folded the striped stole and laid it on the table to one side. That was her way of making sure Elayne and Nynaeve remembered they were alone; sometimes the stole made them start talking to the Amyrlin Seat instead of Egwene al’Vere. As usual, it worked. Nynaeve took a very deep breath.

Before she could speak, though, Elayne said, “Do you mean to join him and this Band of the Red Hand to Gareth Bryne?”

Egwene shook her head. The Warders said there were six or seven thousand in Mat’s Band now, more than she remembered from Cairhien, and a considerable number, if not nearly so many as those two captured men claimed, but Bryne’s soldiers truly would not take kindly to Dragonsworn. Besides, she had her own scheme, which she explained while they drew the other chairs to the table. It was very like sitting in a kitchen talking. She moved the stole farther over.

“That is brilliant.” Elayne’s grin said she meant it. But then, Elayne always said what she meant. “I didn’t think the other would work either, but this really is brilliant.”

Nynaeve sniffed irritably. “What makes you think Mat will go along? He’ll stick a pole through the spokes just for the fun of it.”

“I think he made a promise,” Egwene said simply, and Nynaeve nodded. Slowly, reluctantly, but she nodded. Elayne looked lost, of course; she did not know him. “Elayne, Mat does exactly as he pleases; he always has.”

“No matter how many turnips he had to peel for it,” Nynaeve muttered, “or how often he was switched.”