She addressed herself to the shortest of the women. Framed by bright red hair as short as Min’s used to be, her tanned face might as well have been carved from wood, but she was even a little shorter than Min. “I’ve come to see Rand al’Thor,” Min said, a trifle unsteadily. “The Dragon Reborn.” Did none of them ever blink? “My name is Min. He knows me, and I have an important message for him.”

The red-haired woman turned to the other Aiel, gesticulating quickly with her free hand. The rest of the women laughed as she turned back. “I will take you to him, Min. But if he does not know you, you will leave much faster than you go in.” Some of the Aielwomen laughed at that too. “I am called Enaila.”

“He knows me,” Min told them, flushing. She had a pair of knives up her coatsleeves that Thom Merrilin had showed her how to use, but she had the feeling this woman could take them away and peel her with them. An image flickered above Enaila’s head and was gone. A wreath of some sort; Min had no idea what it meant. “Am I supposed to take my horse in, too? I don’t think Rand wants to see her.” To her surprise, some of the Aiel chuckled, men and women, and Enaila’s lips twitched as if she wanted to.

A man came to take Wildrose—Min thought he was Aiel too, despite the downcast eyes and white robe—and she followed Enaila through the gates, across a broad courtyard and into the Palace proper. It was something of a relief to see servants in red-and-white livery scurrying along the tapestry-lined corridors, warily eyeing the Aiel who also walked the halls, but no more so than they might a strange dog really. She had begun to think she would find the Palace filled with none but Aiel, Rand surrounded by them, maybe dressed in coat and breeches all in shades of brown and gray and green, staring at her without blinking.

Before tall wide doors, carved with lions and standing open, Enaila halted, wiggling her hand quickly at the Aiel on guard. They were all women. One, flaxen-haired and considerably taller than most men, waggled fingers back. “Wait here,” Enaila said, and went in.

Min took one step after her, and a spear was casually held in her path by the flaxen-haired woman. Or perhaps not casually, but Min did not care. She could see Rand.