Birgitte rode Rising, a tall dun gelding, also one of the fastest in the royal stables. The Warder had chosen both horses. She expected to have to run.

Birgitte wore one of Elayne’s foxhead copies, though it had a different shape, a thin silver disc with a rose on the front. Elayne carried another wrapped in cloth inside her pocket.

She’d tried making another this morning, but it had melted, nearly setting her dresser on fire. She was having a great deal of difficulty without the original to study. Her dreams of arming all of her personal Guards with medallions was looking less and less possible, unless she somehow managed to persuade Mat to give her the original again.

Her honor guard fell into mounted ranks around her and Birgitte in the Queen’s Plaza. She was bringing only a hundred soldiers—seventy-five Guardsmen and an inner ring of twenty-five Guardswomen. It was a tiny force, but she’d have gone without those hundred if she’d been able to get away with it. She couldn’t afford to be seen as a conqueror.

“I don’t like this,” Birgitte said.

“You don’t like anything, lately,” Elayne said. “I swear, you’re becoming more irritable by the day.”

“It’s because you’re becoming more foolhardy by the day.”

“Oh, come now. This is hardly the most foolhardy thing I’ve done.”

“Only because you’ve set a very high benchmark for yourself, Elayne.”

“It will be fine,” Elayne said, glancing southward.

“Why do you keep looking in that direction?”

“Rand,” Elayne said, feeling that warmth again, pulsing from the knot of emotions in her mind. “He’s getting ready for something. He feels troubled. And peaceful at the same time.” Light, but that man could be confusing.

The meeting would happen in one day, if his original deadline still held. Egwene was right; breaking the seals would be foolish. But Rand would see reason.

Alise rode up to her, accompanied by three Kinswomen. Sarasia was a plump woman with a grandmotherly air; dark-skinned Kema kept her black hair in three long braids, and prim Nashia with a youthful face wore a baggy dress.

The four took up positions beside Elayne. Only two of them were strong enough for a gateway—many of the Kin were weaker than most Aes Sedai. But that would be enough, assuming Elayne had trouble embracing the Source.

“Can you do something to prevent archers from hitting her?” Birgitte asked Alise. “Some kind of weave?”

Alise cocked her head thoughtfully. “I know of one that might help,” she said, “but I’ve never tried it.”

Another Kinswoman wove a gateway up ahead. It opened to a span of rough, brown-grassed land outside of Cairhien. A much larger army waited there, wearing the cuirasses and bell-shaped helmets of Cairhienin troops. The officers were easy to spot with their dark clothing, in the colors of the Houses they served. They wore con rising over their backs.

Tall, narrow-faced Lorstrum sat his mount at the front of his army, which wore dark green with crimson slashes; Bertome was on the other side. Their forces looked to be about the same size. Five thousand each. The other four Houses had fielded smaller armies.