The onion slices on Egwene's plate were mocking her, of that she was certain. She knew how crazed it made her sound to even think such a thing, but there was certainly no other explanation that adequately explained why the infuriating curves kept slipping off her fork! A few more failed attempts to keep them where they needed to be and she gave up, helping herself to the tasteless bread roll instead. She couldn't muster enough energy to get cross with her meal. Light, she couldn't muster enough energy to do much of anything.

Across from her bed Elayne's Warder-in-training brother politely looked elsewhere, as he had done ever since she first started encountering issues with the breakfast. His brow furrowed when she set the fork down and he half-turned in his seat toward her, a question forming in his face; then, after a thought, he closed his mouth and gave a little nod, once again engrossed by the framework around the door. There had been a gruff "morning" from him as a greeting once she had been awoken from her sleep as the food was brought in. As she chased the roll down with some water from her cup she considered his response to her. He might be rough around some edges, but his actions didn't strike her as rude; merely, he devoted himself to whatever task was assigned to him. She found that an admirable trait, in fact. Elayne was lucky to have him as a brother.

If she had been more alert she might have thought something of his sudden tensing, the way he half-rose out of his chair. Instead, the knock on the door startled her, and she dropped her fork to the plate – a motion that also knocked off the one bit of onion she had successfully coaxed onto the tines, and dashed any hopes she held of one day finishing this breakfast. Without preamble the door swung open and Suana marched in, a steaming mug in her hand. "Morning medicine," she announced, forcing it into Egwene's recently unoccupied hands. "It won't make you sleepy like the first few, but you still need to drink all of it." She did not seem inclined to leave afterward, so Egwene obediently washed what portions of her food had been eaten down with the concoction. Still shocked at how alike it was to Nynaeve's remedies she returned the vessel to the Aes Sedai's outstretched hand, where it was readily set aside on the table next to her. "That should restore more than enough energy to make up for what I'm about to do," the woman explained. "Normally we don't worry about the amount needed from a person, but given that you were stupid enough to push yourself this far every bit that comes from you is precious enough that we must now take precautions. I'm going to Delve you now to make certain that your healing continues to progress in an agreeable direction. Lie still."

Egwene did her best to prepare for the sudden jolt, but it still sent chills through her when Suana's weave ran along her body. The woman made a derisive noise before wiping her hand on the side of her dress. "Well, that Accepted certainly knew what she was doing in guiding that weave. Your bones are at least setting properly and it doesn't look like we'll need to reset them – a minor miracle, considering it was a neck injury – but that is no cause for you to go thinking you have free rein to return to your studies. Your body is still too weak to properly support itself without help. I cannot stress to you enough how important it is at this juncture for you to rest, or the dire nature of the consequences should you choose to ignore my words. Do not do anything remotely like this ever again."

She nodded sleepily, mumbling an appropriate "yes Suana Sedai" and freeing one of her hands to fuss with the sheets. It was not until the woman tapped on the nearby tabletop that she realized there was more to say. Suana's face was still a picture of Aes Sedai calm, but her fingernail clacked quietly on the smoothed wood with stubborn insistence, almost seeming at odds with the body to which it was attached. She could almost feel the sand grains falling to the bottom of some hidden hourglass, so long did the Aes Sedai stand there. Eventually she patted the table, turning to face the wall against which it stood flush as her ageless features retained the same neutral expression. "There is another matter as well," she stated, addressing the wall as much as her. "You would not have heard being sequestered away, but yesterday a Sister passed away. The service is to be later this morning, and all are to be given the offer of attending."

It took Egwene a breath to register the words, so pregnant was the woman's comment with implied judgment. When restrictions failed to manifest she focused on a point somewhere halfway down the bed. "I would like to be present, Suana Sedai, to pay my respects."

Suana clicked her teeth, pressing her lips in a thin line as she regarded Egwene. She did not speak, did not so much as move a hair as she scrutinized her. With another click of her teeth she spun away, making toward the door with her usual haste. "We have a wheeled chair for the infirm. One of the other Yellows will accompany you." Only the closing of the door marked her passage, so quickly did she disappear. Egwene couldn't even make out her retreating footsteps.

Gawyn let the departure be for a beat before raising his eyebrow. His posture didn't change, but Egwene felt that he was suppressing the urge to laugh – at least a chuckle, if not a full-on bout of raucous braying. She fixed him with what she hoped was a discouraging glare. "And what is it that you find humorous?" she inquired testily.

He clasped his hands in front of him, visibly relaxing. "Not humorous so much as surprising," he clarified, glancing at her. "I didn't think you would be let out of the bed for another week at least, chair or no chair. If it were up to me, I wouldn't let someone falling over themselves anywhere but bed."

She stiffened with indignation. Perhaps his words hadn't been meant with the gouging commentary she had heard, but she couldn't let his brazen rudeness pass without remark. "How dare you! My condition is nothing to make light of!"

"No, it isn't." His tone abruptly hardened, becoming bolder as he continued. "You've been here just as long as my sister, and in the same amount of time you drove yourself to the point of exhaustion, slept so little you saw all kinds of strange images, and sustained an injury that would have put every other person at the mercy of caretakers for the rest of their lives. That's not even mentioning the fight you had the month before, or the nightmares my sister tells me you have. You have been the center or cause of more excitement than most people see in a year or more, and you're still pushing the limits of what you can get away with. You put yourself in danger, and the question has to be raised on how far you'd go if other people were involved beside you. It would concern me even if my sister wasn't involved, and doubly concerns me since she is."

This time he refused to look away, and though she felt the color drain from her face she met him stone for stone. When he finished she let the words sink in, giving herself a chance to calm down. "I am not some attention-starved hussy looking for adventure," she growled. "I am not actively seeking to put myself in harm's way."

Gawyn beat out a vivacious rhythm with his foot, staring at the door; and though she knew it was inconsequential she still felt proud that she had not been the one to break her stare first. "This conversation would go in circles," he quipped. "Just be careful with yourself. I have a duty to protect my sister, and because she insists on knowing you I need to be certain you won't cause undue harm to her."

That was all he seemed inclined to say. He resumed his vigil from the chair, as motionless as before if somewhat hardened. Egwene bristled at the insult before returning to her breakfast with vehemence, stabbing at the onion pieces with her fork. It hadn't occurred to her to stab before, but perhaps all she had really required all this time was the proper motivation. And perhaps a little imagination that the onions were slightly man-shaped.

Moiraine couldn't say whether the morning passed too quickly or not quickly enough; all she could decide for certain was that she would be thankful when it was over. The evening had been fretful enough with worries nagging at her about the meaning behind the Karaethon Cycle and ramifications of Elaida's Foretelling – and in the middle of all the Sitters, no less; she knew that one could no less control when a Foretelling would visit than one could predict the strike of wild lightning, but having one come upon her in the middle of a crowded room lent speed to the rampant thoughts that fractured focus – and when sleep finally fell upon her she had been beset by images of a ruinous world and coming battles, of the White Tower crumbling before her and the nations of the world in arms against each other, of Him and the night He died. She came to in a cold sweat, forcing herself to calmness in a way she hadn't had to since before she had risen to the shawl, and took a small dose of medicine given to her by the Yellows for a night full of terrors. She hated resorting to a concoction, but it afforded her the rest of the night with uninterrupted sleep, even if that sleep still felt restless.

She had just returned from a bath, toweling her face off, when a knock came at her door. With a quick twist of her hair to leave it relatively presentable and a yank to tighten her robe firmly shut she glided over to receive the unexpected visitor. To her mild surprise it was Rafela, her plump features calm but slightly excited. Moiraine clasped her hands gently in front of her. "Rafela. This is an unexpected visit."

The Tairen woman bowed her head. "Sister, I come on two matters. The first is that Master Merrilin has arrived to call on you; as you still washing up when he arrived I gave him instruction to wait in the hall until you were fit to receive visitors."

"You may tell Master Merrilin that he may call upon me at his leisure," she replied smoothly. "I hardly suspect he shall attempt any impropriety, especially on the grounds of the White Tower itself, and if for some reason his character has soured I should think myself more than capable of halting any undesired activity."

That certainly seemed to put a stutter in Rafela's stride. She paused for a moment before an Aes Sedai smile took over her face. "Of course," she answered, the action never touching her eyes. "The second and more pressing concern is that of a grievance fund. I believe the Sister we lost has family surviving her, and I was considering collecting donations from the Ajah to assist them. One would be thankful for alms given in need."

There was the heart of the matter. She should have known Rafela would take the loss as a chance to revive some custom or other – in this case, an ancient call to arms within the Blue Ajah, used by the phrase "alms given in need;" though truthfully, she found it laughable if also morbid that a service for a fallen Sister should be considered a call to arms; perhaps she simply felt threatened by the implied presence of so many Reds – but nevertheless she thought it prudent to entertain her. She highly doubted that anything would actually occur, and all it truly amounted to was to dress in full regalia and stole anyway, dress already appropriate for a funeral. Besides, the loophole Rafela provided in her request meant that any donations would go either to surviving family if she had any, or into a pool to help pay for Ajah needs – likely to fund the eyes and ears. "Of course. Alms given in need are alms received in thanks." She lingered just long enough to register the glimmer of surprise breaking through Rafela's calm, mentally laughing as she did; one could not study records of centuries prior and not glean information on the idiosyncratic practices of Ajahs throughout history.

The donation given and Rafela placated, Moiraine let loose her hair and ambled over to her wardrobe, letting her mind roam freely. Siuan's announcement yesterday had been another example of her friend's political savviness at work: just enough of the truth to verify, not enough to give the entire picture. And she still claimed she had no skill in navigating the White Tower's politics! One could only hope that no one else would use the funeral for any attempts at personal advancement, but realistically she would be more surprised if nobody tried to push an agenda under some pretense. Aes Sedai seemed to have ambition seared in their bones; as well wish for the rain to stop falling in a circle surrounding you as you traveled through a thunderstorm. Then again, perhaps there would be a chance to mourn and reflect, and leave other issues for the next day. Elaida's final Foretelling certainly presented a looming threat. There would doubtless be a search party for the new Dragon Reborn; truthfully there could be no other option when the entire Hall had heard the news. She wondered If she should consider her own excursion to try and him; then again, was she any more qualified than the next sister? All she had done in the first instance was be lucky enough to have heard what transpired. Light, that was a heavy enough burden for a woman to carry once, let alone a second time! So many sacrifices had been made, and all in vain…

She started, realizing she had stood motionless with dress in hand. Aghast that she had let reminiscence best her she shed her robe and donned her vestments with alacrity, forcing herself away from the painful memories and toward the matter at hand as she combed tangles out of her hair. If she had given birth to a child on Dragonmount itself, where would she turn? The wilds were uncharitable without intimate knowledge of the landscape and flora, more so in recent days, so the safest bet was to travel to a city. Tar Valon? Perhaps for supplies, but she doubted that even the boldest woman would sit beneath the gaze of the White Tower for longer than they had to. The Borderlands were an unlikely destination; the road was filled with dangers and few resources, and safe havens were scarce. To Cairhien, then, or Caemlyn or Aringill beyond them. It was not impossible that a search party would miss their quarry; but a woman alone could travel farther and faster than any entourage, no matter how expert or thorough they were. She would have to present the matter carefully, and with a breath between it and today.

Of a sudden she realized how much time had passed since Rafela had departed. Curious, and with brush still in hand, she crossed to her entrance. Thom stood patiently nearby, a fine velvet shirt on underneath his familiar cloak. His mustache appeared to be trimmed, and even slightly oiled. He cut quite the dapper figure, even if he looked about nervously whenever a Sister passed close by. At the sound of the catch he looked to her, hand twitching as he resisted the urge to knuckle his facial hair. "Good morning to you, Moiraine Sedai," he intoned respectfully, pitched just loud enough for his voice to carry. "Would that we met under happier circumstances."

Moiraine gave a polite smile. "Would that one could always meet others in good health and fortune. Why wait so long? I gave word that you could call upon me at your leisure."

He bowed, sweeping his cloak just a touch. "Your pardon, Moiraine Sedai; but the instruction I was given was to wait outside until you were ready. I did not wish to intrude."

She suppressed the desire to throttle Rafela the next chance she had with practiced calm. The Tower had changed if one's own Sisters could not be expected to show common courtesy. Perhaps she would be better off out in the world as she had been for so many years. Embracing the Source and arranging a few threads of Air just so, she aligned herself to better face the common room. "A pity my message was misconstrued. One does hope for fidelity when trusting others." Already feeling wandering eyes but not truly caring about the judgment she was receiving opened the door wide, allowing them both to retire to her quarters.

The door had but barely shut when one of the wards surrounding her room went off. Truthfully, she was surprised that whoever controlled the weave had waited as long as she had before trying to spy on her. She held up a finger to warn Thom, surreptitiously indicating her ear. "What news from the markets back home?" she asked quietly."

Think shrugged; he was used to the charade, and fell immediately into character. "Nothing good, I'm afraid. The Cairhienin mark lags behind the Andoran coin still, with trade falling by the wayside as it has. There were rumors that a caravan from Shienar might help inject some life into the market, but last I heard was that it disappeared off the face of the earth. With a dearth of trade to the west and southwest it'll be harder to bring it back around. Perhaps new trade could be brought in from Mayene, but the Tairens would be certain to impose restrictive tariffs – if they allow passage at all, of course."

The feeling retreated, and Moiraine allowed herself to relax. "They're gone," she informed him. "You're getting better at sounding dull."

Thom waved his hand dismissively. "The first thing a gleeman learns, aside from how to juggle, is how to properly tell a story. All I needed to do was the exact opposite of that."

"In any case it seems to have worked." She returned to her dressing table, setting down the brush and pulling her long locks back in place as she adjusted them in her mirror. "What brings you here? It must be important to drag you away from Egwene, so soon after her accident."

"She told us yesterday that Rand was coming back. She had more conviction of that than I have heard from anyone who wasn't a Whitecloak."

Moiraine tied her hair in place with a white ribbon, securing it in a bun that left two trailing locks lie free as was fashionable in Cairhien when last she had visited. "How does she know?" she asked carefully.

In the mirror she noticed Thom peering at her, bushy eyebrows raised. He let the question hang before clicking his tongue, looking toward the door with hands now firmly on his hips. "She claims she had a dream. How long have you suspected?"

"I suspected the day I left. I did not know for certain until yesterday, and I would conjecture I learned the same time as you." She unclasped her keseira, pulling it carefully across her forehead. Egwene would have to be watched more, especially if more dreams of hers came true. She wondered whether it was a sign that the girl was a true Dreamer or not. "I wonder how many others heard something similar. Who is with her now?"

The gleeman scoffed. "She's with one of Elayne's brothers. He's trustworthy. Reliable."

"Thom, would you rather I had told you everything and gave you false hope? Would you rather have believed there was a future where we might have a chance, even if I had turned out to be wrong?"

He chewed his mustache, looking farther away from her. "Something more than vague hints would have been appreciated, so I could at least have known why you were absent for so long. Yes, Moiraine; I would choose to know and have that hope dashed. At least then I would have been prepared if news reached my ears, instead of being caught unaware."

The hurt was there, though he was doing his best to hide it. She rose and took a step toward him, prompting him to move toward the door. They both froze in place, she looking at him, he focused on one of her chairs. "I'm going to take a walk before the ceremony," he announced to the furniture with a forcibly light tone. "Clear my head, before I say something I don't intend." He navigated over to the door, placing his hand on the handle before she heard him grip it twice and let out a small sigh. "I'll see you at the ceremony," he said, more composed, before soundlessly departing for the halls and corridors beyond.

Moiraine watched him depart without a word. One hand clenched beside her held a slip of her dress, its press doubtless creasing the skirt. She stood rooted in place before letting herself be drawn to the jewelry box out of habit. Never again. Never again could she let details like that slip by her, details concerning Thom least of all. He deserved her trust – he had it, truthfully; she told herself it was out of habit that she had kept him ignorant. There must be trust, or there was no use for hope. She fished out a pair of earrings and a small brooch, fastening them in place. By the sunlight hitting her floor it was a bell before High, when the ceremony was to take place – time enough for some necessary introspection. Meditation, the funeral, and then to address the worries of this Age.

Siuan waited impatiently as Leane smoothed down her dress and stole with painstaking attention to detail, secretly wishing she could forego the funeral entirely and be done with it. The past day had been nothing short of a tangled rat's nest of fishing line, and she had better things to do than pine away for a woman she had never really liked to begin with. This flaming stole and its responsibilities! Couldn't people see to their own and let the rest of the world get along without them for a breath? She tapped a foot impatiently, chewing on her lip as a poor substitute for crossing her arms. "Have the messages been sent out yet?"

"Yes, Mother," Leane replied smoothly, not once breaking her stride as she used tiny weaves to undo any creases and remove any lingering blemishes on her dress. Personally Siuan was ready to shimmy out of the contraption and get back to work, and hang the consequences – the last time she had worn this had been to an envoy out in Arafel, and that had required both frillier clothing and a stretch of traveling offroad on blasted horseback! – but it was one of the nicer items she had readily available so out of the clothes chest it came.

She rolled her eyes, nearly stomping her foot. "I know they've been sent!" she snapped, looking toward her desk. "Have any returned?"

"None that I am aware of, Mother; but if you would like I can ask the next messenger birds I send out to fly faster."

Another irritated comment died on Siuan's lips. Had she heard that answer correctly? "Leane, did you just make a joke?"

Her Keeper swept away a small pile of dust from underneath Siuan's skirt, a cool innocence on her face. "Your Keeper should always be the model of respect and austerity, Mother. Is it possible you could have imagined it in the haze of today's activities?"

Tension drained away from her – not all of it, but enough to where she could start thinking clearly. "I suppose it is possible," she admitted with a chuckle. Light, she was so tired! The only dreams she could recall were of chaos and ruin, and a vague memory of being chased by shadowy men. She woke feeling like she had worked lines for three straight days in gales, except she was sure that would still leave her with more energy than she had now. The urge to snap at people would have to be shoved down until all the other fires had been extinguished. She massaged her eyes, pressing them with the palms of her hands. "Is everything at least in order for the ceremony?"

Leane rose, smoothing out her own dress. "Yes, Mother. The oil and herbs will have just arrived, and we have the pyre built ready to receive her. All that needs happen now is for everyone to show up, and to give the women their chance to grieve."

Siuan let slip a tiny sigh. "And for me to give a speech," she muttered, half to herself. She still needed to iron out some of the finer details of that speech – after all, listing accomplishments took no effort at all; but making it sound as if she cared for the woman without lying would take monumental effort. As well bore a tunnel through the Spine of the World to the Aiel Waste; at least then the result would be useful.

Ever faithful, Leane clasped her hands before her. "It will be exactly what is needed, Mother," she assured her. "Of that I have no doubt."

She gave a humorless laugh. "It will be something, certainly." Glancing out the window she saw the angle of the sun's rays indicating it was fast approaching time for the funeral. "Let's get the mudfish out to market, then." Suppressing a flare of irritation that she had no more word from they eyes and ears, or that no progress could be made in search for the newly birthed Dragon Reborn, she retrieved her page of notes from her desk. It was, for a change, the only item on her desk; the rest had been stored away late last night when cascading piles threatened to spill over to the floor. Siuan checked all the weaves ensuring their security before nodding a silent affirmation to herself, leaving her study behind without a second thought. She prayed that this day would not leave her with a headache – or at the very least not a large one.

The bump as her chair transitioned from paved walkway to grass jolted up Egwene's back, and she stifled the urge to let loose a colorful exclamation. Shemerin let out a grunt of exertion before they started forward again. "We're almost there," she remarked cheerily through the strain, "so at least then we can both get a rest. I never thought I'd be so thankful for flat ground."

Egwene smiled wanly, glancing over her shoulder and for the moment ignoring Gawyn striding next to them. "Thank you very much for doing this, Shemerin Sedai."

Shemerin scanned ahead of them. "Think nothing of it, child. You just need to focus on building up your strength and returning to your lessons; the Light knows you don't put them off, but one can always strive to better herself."

"Yes, Shemerin Sedai." She took another look at Gawyn before focusing on the sight before them. Hundreds of women had gathered on the grounds, Aes Sedai and Accepted and novices all. The particular portion of the White Tower grounds on which they congregated had a natural slope to it, so most of those present should be able to see the pyre as the ceremony progressed. A temporary platform had been built, a stage for the Amyrlin Seat and whichever woman was speaking at the time. Every woman present had at least one white ribbon for mourning, either in their hair or around their arms; even Gawyn had a bleached version of the Warder trainees' normal tabard issued to him. The Ajahs themselves were represented resplendently, with each group of women sitting together and the Red Ajah in front and on either side of the central aisle. There was a small patch of black ribbons representing the White Ajah, and that had never been fully explained to Egwene – she supposed it was because they wore white as commonplace wear, so wearing white ribbons would seem like no great difference; still, it was strange to see black used in mourning – and behind all the chairs began the mass of standing Accepted and novices, each sporting a white ribbon of her own. Egwene self-consciously adjusted her own ribbon, currently holding her hair in a braid. There were so many people here, more than she had ever seen. How would people even be able to stand up in front of this crowd, much less say anything?

"I'll be putting you next to the Yellows for the funeral," Shemerin continued. "It'll be from the side, but you'll have a better view of things than any of the other novices."

The statement shocked Egwene. "Thank you very much, Shemerin Sedai," she finally managed.

"No need for thanks, child," the Aes Sedai stated matter-of-factly. "You are my charge, and I need to keep an eye on your condition." She pitched her voice lower as they passed the first knot of novices. "Though I do also feel bad that you've missed out on several days of classes; I imagine you must be bored to tears. I know that a funeral isn't exactly the pinnacle of excitement, but it breaks the monotony at least."

"Yes, Shemerin Sedai." She tried to catch Gawyn's eye but he was fully focused on everything around them, in a full patrol. She was still cross with him, but it would be incredibly unfair to have him sent back to stand with the Warder trainees. Then again, Shemerin didn't seem to notice that Gawyn was still with them, so maybe that would work out in his favor.

The chair finally came to rest to the side of the rest of the Aes Sedai, where the Red mass ended and the Yellow sisters had congregated. Shemerin secured her in place with two sturdy lengths of sticks from her pocket, producing two small bottles sealed with cork. "I've brought two different medicines depending on what you might need. The funeral shouldn't take long, but there's no knowing in a case like yours what you might need. If you feel like you might sick up for any reason, this white bottle is full of an unction made from cureall. If you feel like you might start dozing off, this clear bottle is some of the same medicine you had earlier this morning. You should only need a sip or two of it, because it's a concentrated brew. I will be on the side just over here, so if for some reason you truly need more attention I will not be far away." Nodding to herself she sauntered off to join the rest of the Yellow Ajah, immediately taking a seat just barely within view.

Egwene watched Shemerin depart before holding up the two bottles she had been given. Light, she hated being such an invalid and relying on others so much! She leaned over to deposit them a small pouch attached to the chair and noticed Gawyn quickly looking away, a smug grin on his face. She furrowed her brow. "What do you find funny now?" she hissed.

Gawyn shook his head. "I think what I said earlier is starting to sink in a little," he responded politely.

She huffed as loudly as she dared so close to Aes Sedai. The thought had just crossed her mind on how much of a burden she had made herself, but it didn't make her feel any better that he had an air of superiority because of it. "Fine," she muttered, "but there's no need to gloat." To his credit he immediately dropped his attitude, a touch of introspection marring his otherwise immediate return to attention; and Egwene would have apologized had it not been for the odd hush that trickled upward from the path leading back to the White Tower.

As one the Aes Sedai rose from their chairs, facing inward toward the aisle. From her seat Egwene could see the Accepted and novices skittering back from the center, and she could just barely make out a lone drum tapping out a solemn beat. As the procession reached the front she could make out the Amyrlin, bedecked in an elaborate dress overflowing with white ribbons. In her hand held vaulted above her head was a simple torch, lit, its flame seeming small compared to the pyre toward which it slowly meandered. Behind her strode her Keeper, clad in a much simpler dress with two ribbons in her hair and one around her left wrist. It was she who tapped out the dirge to which they walked, the beat strong but solitary. Behind her came six Warders bearing the cold body of the deceased Sister on a stretcher between them, alabaster skin a stark contrast to the vibrant carmine of her dress; and then a single Red Sister, arms folded around a white veil.

The group continued up toward the pyre, percussive heartbeat the only noise from them, until the stretcher-bearers stood beside the wooden construct. The Amyrlin and her Keeper crossed in front of them, twining paths leading them to the platform, while the Warders waited for them to reach the foot of the steps before gently sliding the Sister to rest in the center of the pile. When the Amyrlin reached the center of the platform the drum beat called out a few more times before coming to an abrupt halt. Only the Red with the veil moved, gently unfolding it and draping the fabric to rest across the departed woman's features. When she stepped away the Amyrlin lowered her torch, and the Aes Sedai sat down as one silent body. A stand for the torch materialized – it must have been brought out, but Egwene couldn't recall who had retrieved it; perhaps a Tower servant had snuck in – and the Amyrlin set down her brand. A gentle breeze passed through the yard, and for a moment the numerous white and black ribbons, even the edge of the funeral veil, danced in rhythm before falling back down to rest where they had once lain.

The Amyrlin bowed her head for a moment before a faint glow encompassed her. She looked up and cast her eye over every section of the congregation, from the Accepted and novices in back to the Warders and the Aes Sedai, with a consoling expression for the Reds directly in front of her. When she spoke her voice carried across the space, and Egwene suspected a weave of some sort was at work. "It is never easy to lose a woman from the White Tower, much less a full Sister. To lose one such as Elaida will have a profound impact on the White Tower, on all Aes Sedai. Daughters of the Red Ajah, my thoughts are with you during this time of trial."

Egwene breathed deeply in an effort to keep herself awake; the Amyrlin by this point had moved on to listing Elaida's many accomplishments and deeds, and without the spectacle from before she was having trouble focusing. Her eyes alighted on a gangly fellow by the foot of the platform; and she was tempted to move on but for the livery in which he was clad. The sign of the White Tower covered the heart; that must be the servant responsible for the stand! It was no wonder she hadn't noticed him before; his dirty blonde hair could have let him blend in anywhere and be perfectly unnoticeable. She thought it would be a good challenge to keep an eye out for him.

She leaned over in her chair toward Gawyn, nodding toward the platform. "Do the White Tower's servants normally come so ill-fed as that one?" she murmured.

Gawyn broke his vigil to look in the indicated direction. He shrugged. "What servant?"

The remark almost brought on a sharp retort before Egwene shook her head. "It's nothing," she muttered. Maybe she was more tired than she thought, and still seeing things that weren't there. She reached into the bag and pulled out the clear bottle. Uncorking it she sipped carefully, feeling energy course through her soon after as she stopped it back up. Not that she hadn't begun learning it since the morning she fell on her head, but if ever the lesson was being driven home it was today.

She looked back to the stage and saw the servant was still there, and closer still to the Amyrlin. Her eyes weren't playing tricks on her! She rapped on an armrest, pointing directly at him. "That servant there! Does he not stay for the meals when we get fed?"

Her reaction, loud enough to draw a few glances from the Aes Sedai, captured Gawyn's full attention. He scanned the whole of the area in front of the pyre, shaking his head. "Egwene, what are you talking about?" he whispered forcefully. "What servant?"

Now doubting her own sanity, Egwene fumbled with the cork atop the clear bottle. When she finally managed to remove it she drained the contents without a second thought, a warm rush coursing through her moments later as the medicine took effect. The strange man, the man that only she could see – she was convinced by now that he was no servant – was walking right up to the Amyrlin. Neither she nor her Keeper said anything about the man's presence; in fact, it seemed as if the Amyrlin was content to carry on with her speech. He jerked something out of his belt, and in horror Egwene caught the gleam of a knife blade. The warmth in her fled as she saw what was about to happen, and with no thought to the protests of her legs she rose from her chair. Light send that her eyes weren't lying again; this would either be an act that would save the Amyrlin or get herself stilled by the end of the day. Either way, she doubted anyone would forget it.

She embraced saidar. The world became sharper, and though it was a ways off she could hear the stranger's soft footsteps creaking on the platform as he came to stop directly behind his target. By now the Aes Sedai had noticed her, and several had risen from their own chairs in what looked to be protest. When the man raised his arm high to strike Egwene wove instinctively, lashing out at him with a thick weave of Air. His strike went wild, and as he fell into both the Amyrlin and the stand his blade sparked against the unforgiving metal. The impact knocked loose the torch, and it fell onto him. Within an instant he was set ablaze, falling without sound or cries of pain to the platform, and lay motionless as one dead. By now most people had noticed her; but as soon as the fire struck the man it was as if he had suddenly been brought into the world. Suddenly everyone was screaming. Nearly every Aes Sedai immediately burned bright as they too embraced the Source, rising with menace to seek out any other would-be assassins even as they stared with horror at the one in front of them. The Amyrlin had been spirited away, with no trace of her passing; and as the novices and Accepted were quieted and the Warders confirmed that there were no other killers about all eyes turned back to her.

With adrenaline fading and the medicine having been burned from her in the heat of the moment Egwene fell back to her chair, slumping in enervation. She took a few breaths in the silence, happily releasing the One Power and making the crackling sounds of the fire too distant for her to make out. "Gawyn," she mumbled with her head in her hands, "I think you may be right about the trouble I get into."

So I know it's been...three weeks of two...but hey look new stuff! There's more to come regarding this portion, but I just had to call it here before it was too much for me to tackle at once. Sorry I'm bad at counting guys!

But seriously, thank all of you for sticking with. It means a lot to little old me. I'll do my best to learn how to count better for next time. Maybe. We'll see ;)

Thank you for reading.

-EJT