He reread the second last paragraph again closely. Somehow she had known who Asmodean was. It had to be that. Known that one of the Forsaken was right there in front of her, and never blinked once. She had known why, too, if he read it right. He would have thought in a letter that would go blank when he set it down, she could have come right out and said what she meant. Not just concerning Asmodean. About how she had learned what she had in Rhuidean—something to do with Wise Ones, or he missed his guess, and as much chance of finding out more from the letter as from them—about Aes Sedai—was there a reason she mentioned Verin? And why Alviarin instead of Elaida?—even about Thom and Lan. For some reason he did not think she had left a letter for Lan; the Warder was not the only one who believed in clean wounds. He almost took Thom’s letter out and opened it, but she might have warded it the same way she had his. Aes Sedai and Cairhienin, she had wrapped herself in mystery and manipulation to the end. To the end.

That was what he was trying to avoid with all this blather about her keeping secrets. She had known what would happen and come as bravely as any Aiel. Come to her death knowing it waited. She had died because he could not bring himself to kill Lanfear. He could not kill one woman, so another died. His eyes fell on the last words.

. . . You will do well.

They cut like a cold razor.

“Why do you weep here alone, Rand al’Thor? I have heard that some wetlanders think it is shame to be seen weeping.”

He glared at Sulin, standing in the doorway. She was fully accoutred, cased bow on her back, quiver at her belt, round hide buckler and three spears in hand. “I’m not. . . .” There was dampness on his cheeks. He scrubbed it away. “It’s hot in here. Makes me sweat like a . . . What do you want? I thought you had all decided to abandon me and go back to the Three-fold Land.”

“It is not we who have abandoned you, Rand al’Thor.” Shutting the door behind her, she sat on the floor and laid her buckler and a pair of the spears down. “You have abandoned us.” In one motion she put a foot against the last spear between her hands, heaved, and snapped it in two.

“What are you doing?” She tossed aside the pieces and picked up another spear. “I said, what are you doing?” The white-haired Maiden’s face might have given even Lan pause, but Rand bent and seized the spear between her hands; her soft-booted foot came to rest against his knuckles. Not lightly.