Abruptly, she realized the Amyrlin’s stole was draped around her neck. She made it vanish just in time. An instant later Nynaeve and Elayne were there, Nynaeve as solid as she, Elayne misty. Siuan had been reluctant to let go of the original ring ter’angreal; a firm order had been necessary. Elayne wore a green dress with lace spilling over her hands and outlining a narrow yet startlingly deep neckline that revealed a small knife dangling from a snug gold necklace, the hilt nestled between her breasts a mass of pearls and firedrops. Elayne always did seem to embrace the local fashions immediately wherever she went. Nynaeve, as expected, wore stout Two Rivers woolens, dark and plain.

“Success?” Egwene said hopefully.

“Not yet, but we will.” Elayne sounded so optimistic that Egwene almost stared; she had to really try to sound that way.

“I’m sure it will not be much longer,” Nynaeve said, sounding even more positive. They must be beating their heads against a wall.

Egwene sighed. “Maybe you should join me again. I’m sure you could find the bowl in a few more days, but I keep thinking about all these stories.” They could take care of themselves. She knew that, and it would be a fine thought to have over their graves. Siuan said that none of the stories they had told were exaggerations.

“Oh, no, Egwene,” Nynaeve protested. “The bowl is too important. You know it is. Everything is going to cook in its own juice if we don’t find it.”

“Besides,” Elayne added, “what kind of trouble can we fall into? We sleep every night in the Tarasin Palace, in case you’ve forgotten, and if Tylin doesn’t tuck us in, she is still there to talk.” Her dress was different, the cut unaltered, but the material was coarse and worn. Nynaeve wore a near copy of it, except that her knife had no more than nine or ten glass beads on the hilt. Hardly clothes for any palace. Worse, she was trying to look innocent. Nynaeve had no practice at that.

Egwene let it pass. The bowl was important, they could take care of themselves, and she knew very well they were not looking in the Tarasin Palace. She almost let it pass, anyway. “You are making use of Mat, aren’t you?”

“We—” Abruptly Elayne became aware of her dress and gave a start. For some reason, though, it seemed to be the small knife that truly startled her. Eyes popping, she clutched the hilt, a mass of large red and white glass beads, and her face went absolutely crimson. An instant later she was in a high-necked Andoran gown of green silk.