Nynaeve stepped forward promptly and opened one of the doors. That was enough to get Egwene moving. Elayne held her hand tightly, and she gripped Elayne’s just as hard. Leane followed them in and took a place to one side, halfway between the three of them and the table in the center of the room.

The Amyrlin Seat sat behind the table, examining papers. She did not look up. Once Nynaeve opened her mouth, but closed it again, at a sharp look from the Keeper. The three of them stood in a line in front of the Amyrlin’s table and waited. Egwene tried not to fidget. Long minutes went by—it seemed like hours—before the Amyrlin raised her head, but when those blue eyes fixed them each in turn, Egwene decided she could have waited longer. The Amyrlin’s gaze was like two icicles boring into her heart. The room was cool, but a trickle of sweat began to run down her back.

“So!” the Amyrlin said finally. “Our runaways return.”

“We did not run away, Mother.” Nynaeve was obviously straining for calm, but her voice shook with emotion. Anger, Egwene knew. That strong will was all too often accompanied by anger. “Liandrin told us we were to go with her, and—” The loud crack of the Amyrlin’s hand slapping the table cut her off.

“Do not invoke Liandrin’s name here, child!” the Amyrlin snapped. Leane watched them with a stern serenity.

“Mother, Liandrin is Black Ajah,” Elayne burst out.

“That is known, child. Suspected, at least, and as good as known. Liandrin left the Tower some months ago, and twelve other—women—went with her. None has been seen since. Before they left, they tried to break into the storeroom where the angreal and sa’angreal are kept, and did manage to enter that where the smaller ter’angreal are stored. They stole a number of those, including several we do not know the use of.”

Nynaeve stared at the Amyrlin in horror, and Elayne suddenly rubbed her arms as if she were cold. Egwene knew she was shivering, too. Many times she had imagined returning to confront Liandrin and accuse her, to see her condemned to some punishment—except that she had never managed to imagine any punishment strong enough to suit that doll-faced Aes Sedai’s crimes. She had even pictured returning to find Liandrin already fled—in terror of her return, it was usually. But she had never imagined anything like this. If Liandrin and the others—she had not really wanted to believe there were others—had stolen those remnants of the Age of Legends, there was no telling what they could do with them. Thank the Light they did not get any sa’angreal, she thought. The other was bad enough.