Alliandre began rolling another bandage. She sat with other women in a small clearing near the battlefield, surrounded by scraggly scatterhead and stands of leatherleaf. The cool air was quiet save for the nearby groans of the wounded.

She cut another length of cloth in the morning light. The cloth had been a shirt. Now it was bandages. Not a great loss; it hadn’t been a very good shirt, by the looks of it.

“The battle is through?” Berelain said softly. She and Faile worked nearby, sitting on stools across from one another as they cut.

“Yes, it appears that it is,” Faile replied.

Both fell silent. Alliandre raised an eyebrow, but did not say anything. Something was going on between those two. Why suddenly start pretending they were the greatest of friends? The act seemed to fool many of the men in camp, but Alliandre could see the truth in the way their lips tightened when they saw one another. It had lessened after Faile had saved Berelain’s life, but not vanished entirely.

“You were right about him,” Berelain said.

“You sound surprised.”

“I am not often wrong when it comes to men.”

“My husband is not like other men. It—” Faile cut off. She looked toward Alliandre, eyes narrowing.

Bloody ashes, Alliandre thought. She’d sat too far away, which made her strain, turning to eavesdrop. That was suspicious.

The two of them fell silent again, and Alliandre held up a hand, as if inspecting her nails. Yes, she thought. Ignore me. I don’t matter, I’m just a woman in over her head and struggling to keep up. Faile and Berelain didn’t think that, of course, any more than the Two Rivers men had ever thought Perrin had been unfaithful. If you sat them down and asked them—really made them think about it—they’d come to the conclusion that something else must have happened.

But things like superstition and bias ran deeper than mere thoughts. What the other two thought about Alliandre and what they instinctively felt were different. Besides, Alliandre really was a woman who was in over her head and struggling to keep up.

Best to know what your strengths were.

Alliandre turned back to cutting bandages. Faile and Berelain had insisted on staying to help; Alliandre couldn’t go. Not with the two of them acting so bloody fascinating lately. Besides, she didn’t mind the work. Compared to their captivity by the Aiel, this was really quite pleasant. Unfortunately, the two didn’t go back to their conversation. In fact, Berelain rose, looking frustrated, and walked toward the other side of the clearing.

Alliandre could practically feel the frost coming off the woman. Berelain stopped over where others were rolling the strips of cloth. Alliandre stood up, carrying her stool, scissors and cloths over to Faile. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen her this unsettled,” Alliandre said.

“She’s not fond of being wrong,” Faile noted. She took a deep breath, then shook her head. “She sees the world as a network of half-truths and inferences, ascribing complex motivations to the simplest of men. I suspect it makes her very good at court politics. But I wouldn’t want to live that way.”