Nynaeve frowned. “No. Should I?”

Lying or truthful? Cadsuane hated not being able to trust the words of someone who called herself an Aes Sedai. But Nynaeve al’Meara had never held the Oath Rod.

Those eyes looked genuinely confused. Nynaeve should be trustworthy; she prided herself on her honesty. Unless that was a front. Unless she was Black.

Careful, she thought. You’ll end up as distrustful as the boy is. Nynaeve hadn’t given Alanna the note, which eliminated her last good theory on its origin.

“So, what is it, Cadsuane Sedai?” Nynaeve demanded. At least she used the honorific; Cadsuane nearly chided the girl for her tone. But, truth be told, she felt as frustrated as Nynaeve did. There were times when such emotions were justified. Facing the end of the world with the Dragon Reborn completely out of control was one of them.

“I’m not sure,” Cadsuane said. “The letter was opened in haste—the paper was torn. It was dropped on the floor, and the note inside taken, along with clothing and emergency items.”

“But why does it matter?” Nynaeve asked. Behind her, Min slipped into the room, two Maidens taking up positions by the door. Had Min yet figured out the real reason the Aiel trailed her?

“Because, Nynaeve,” Min said. “She is a pathway to him.”

Nynaeve sniffed. “She’s been no more helpful than you, Min.”

“As persuasive as you can be, Nynaeve,” Cadsuane said dryly, “the Shadow has means to make people more forthcoming.”

Nynaeve blushed furiously, then began muttering under her breath. Alanna could point the way to the Dragon Reborn. If agents of the Dark One had taken her, there would be no hiding Rand from them. Their traps had been deadly enough when they’d needed to coax and lure him into them.

“We’ve been fools,” Nynaeve said. “There should have been a hundred Maidens guarding her.”

“The Forsaken have known where to find him before,” Cadsuane said, though inwardly she agreed. She should have seen Alanna better watched. “And he has survived. This is simply one more thing to be aware of.” She sighed. “Can someone bring us some tea?”

Bera was actually the one who went to fetch it, though Cadsuane hadn’t taken any care to cultivate influence with the woman. Well, a reputation was worth something, it appeared.

Bera returned shortly; Cadsuane had stepped out into the hall to think. She accepted the cup and braced herself for the tea’s bitter taste—she’d asked for it partially because she needed a moment to think, and an empty-handed woman often looked nervous.

She raised the cup to her lips. What next? Ask the Defenders at the gate of the Stone? Last night, Alanna—after being prodded—had confirmed that al’Thor was still in the same place. Up north, Andor perhaps. For three days. What was the fool boy—

Cadsuane froze. The tea tasted good.

It was wonderful, as a matter of fact. Perfectly sweetened with honey. Faint bitterness and a relaxing flavor. It had been weeks, perhaps months, since Cadsuane had tasted tea that wasn’t spoiled.