“No. The fool would take it as a move against him, if he knew. And who can say what he chooses to watch aside from the sword? See that she dies quietly, Comar. Let her death attract no notice at all.” His laughter was a rich rumble. “Those ignorant slatterns in their Tower will have a difficult time producing her after this disappearance. This may all be just as well. Let it be done quickly. Quickly, before he has time to take her himself.”

The two soldiers were almost abreast of him; Mat tried to will their feet to move faster.

“Great Master,” the other man said uncertainly, “that may be difficult. We know she is on her way to Tear, but the vessel she traveled on was found at Aringill, and all three of them had left it earlier. We do not know whether she has taken another ship, or is riding south. And it may not be easy to find her once she reaches Tear, Great Master. Perhaps if you—”

“Are there none but fools in the world, now?” the deep voice said harshly. “Do you think I could move in Tear without him knowing? I do not mean to fight him, not now, not yet. Bring me the girl’s head, Comar. Bring me all three heads, or you will pray for me to take yours!”

“Yes, Great Master. It shall be as you say. Yes. Yes.”

The soldiers crunched past, never looking to either side. Mat only waited for their backs to pass before leaping up to catch the broad stone windowsill and pull himself high enough to see through the window.

He barely noticed the fringed Tarabon carpet on the floor, worth a fat purse of silver. One of the broad, carved doors was swinging shut. A tall man, with wide shoulders and a deep chest straining the green silk of his silver-embroidered coat, was staring at the door with dark blue eyes. His black beard was close cut, with a streak of white over his chin. All in all, he looked a hard man, and one used to giving orders.

“Yes, Great Master,” he said suddenly, and Mat almost lost his grip on the sill. He had thought this must be the man with the deep voice, but it was the cringing voice he heard. Not cringing now, but still the same. “It shall be as you say, Great Master,” the man said bitterly. “I will cut the three wenches’ heads off myself. As soon as I can find them!” He strode through the door, and Mat let himself back down.

For a moment he crouched there behind the rose frames. Someone in the Palace wanted Elayne dead, and had thrown in Egwene and Nynaeve as afterthoughts. What under the Light are they doing, going to Tear? It had to be them.