“Your room.” It was not exactly curt, but plainly Aviendha did not want to talk, not yet. Abruptly she darted to a passing cart filled with firewood and snatched out a branch meant to be broken for kindling, longer than her arm and thicker than her thumb. Rejoining Elayne, she began peeling it with her belt knife; the sharp blade shaved away smaller branches like a razor. The pain was gone from her face. She seemed determined now.

Elayne eyed her sideways as they walked. She would not believe Aviendha meant her any harm, whatever that lout Mat Cauthon said. Then again. . . . She knew a little of ji’e’toh; Aviendha had explained some of it when they were in the Stone together. Maybe Rand had said or done something. Maybe that bewildering labyrinth of honor and obligation required Aviendha to. . . . It did not seem possible. But maybe. . . .

When they reached her room, she decided to bring it up first. Facing the other woman—and very deliberately not embracing saidar—she said, “Mat claims you have come here to kill me.”

Aviendha blinked. “Wetlanders always put everything backwards,” she said wonderingly. Laying the stick on the foot of Nynaeve’s bed, she put the belt knife beside it carefully. “My near-sister Egwene asked me to watch Rand al’Thor for you, which I promised to do.” Bundle and shawl went on the floor beside the door. “I have toh toward her, but greater to you.” Unlacing her blouse, she pulled it over her head, then pushed her shift to her waist. “I love Rand al’Thor, and once I let myself lie with him. I have toh, and I ask that you help me meet it.” Turning her back, she knelt in the small space available. “You may use the stick or the knife as you wish; the toh is mine, but the choice is yours.” She tilted up her chin, stretching her neck. Her eyes were closed. “Whichever you choose, I accept.”

Elayne thought her knees were going to buckle. Min had said the third woman would be dangerous, but Aviendha? Wait! She said she. . . . With Rand! Her hand twitched toward the knife on the bed, and she folded her arms, trapping her hands. “Get up. And put on your blouse. I am not going to hit you . . .” Just a few times? She tightened her arms to hold her hands where they were. “. . . and I am certainly not going to touch that knife. Please put it away.” She would have handed it to the other woman, but she was not certain she was safe to touch a weapon right then. “You have no toh toward me.” She believed that was the phrase. “I love Rand, but I don’t care that you love him too.” The lie burned her tongue. Aviendha had actually lain with him?