Sandar grimaced at the gray-haired woman, then apparently decided to ignore what she had said. He smiled at Nynaeve. “I will admit that I’m curious about these thieves. I’ve known women thieves, and bands of thieves, but I never heard of a band of women thieves before. And I owe Mother Guenna favors.” His eyes seemed to record Nynaeve all over again.

“What do you charge?” she asked sharply.

“To recover stolen goods,” he said briskly, “I ask the tenth part of the value of what I recover. For finding someone, I ask a silver mark for each person. Mother Guenna says the things stolen have little value except to you, mistress, so I suggest you take that choice.” He smiled again; he had very white teeth. “I would not take money from you at all, except that the brotherhood would frown on it, but I will take as little as I can. A copper or two, no more.”

“I know a thief-taker,” Elayne told him. “From Shienar. A very respectful man. He carries a sword as well as a sword-breaker. Why do you not?”

Sandar looked startled for a moment, and then upset with himself for being startled. He had not caught her hint, or else had decided to ignore it. “You are not Tairen. I have heard of Shienar, mistress, tales of Trollocs, and every man a warrior.” His smile said these were tales for children.

“True stories,” Egwene said. “Or true enough. I have been to Shienar.”

He blinked at her, and went on. “I am not a lord, nor a wealthy merchant, nor even a soldier. The Defenders do not trouble foreigners much for carrying swords—unless they mean to stay long, of course—but I would be thrust into a cell under the Stone. There are laws, mistress.” His hand rubbed along his staff, as if unconsciously. “I do as well as may be, without a sword.” He focused his smile on Nynaeve once more. “Now, if you will describe these things—”

He stopped as she set her purse on the edge of the table and counted out thirteen silver marks. Egwene thought she had chosen the lightest coins; most were Tairen, only one Andoran. The Amyrlin had given them a great deal of gold, but even that would not last forever.

Nynaeve looked into the purse thoughtfully before tightening the strings and putting it back into her pouch. “There are thirteen women for you to find, Master Sandar, with as much silver again when you do. Find them, and we will recover our property ourselves.”

“I will do that myself for less than this,” he protested. “And there’s no need for extra rewards. I charge what I charge. Have no fear I’ll take a bribe.”

“There is no fear of that,” Ailhuin agreed. “I said he is honest. Just do not believe him if he says he loves you.” Sandar glared at her.