“Not yet, but we will.” Elayne sounded so optimistic that Egwene almost stared; she had to really try to sound that way.

“I’m sure it will not be much longer,” Nynaeve said, sounding even more positive. They must be beating their heads against a wall.

Egwene sighed. “Maybe you should join me again. I’m sure you could find the bowl in a few more days, but I keep thinking about all these stories.” They could take care of themselves. She knew that, and it would be a fine thought to have over their graves. Siuan said that none of the stories they had told were exaggerations.

“Oh, no, Egwene,” Nynaeve protested. “The bowl is too important. You know it is. Everything is going to cook in its own juice if we don’t find it.”

“Besides,” Elayne added, “what kind of trouble can we fall into? We sleep every night in the Tarasin Palace, in case you’ve forgotten, and if Tylin doesn’t tuck us in, she is still there to talk.” Her dress was different, the cut unaltered, but the material was coarse and worn. Nynaeve wore a near copy of it, except that her knife had no more than nine or ten glass beads on the hilt. Hardly clothes for any palace. Worse, she was trying to look innocent. Nynaeve had no practice at that.

Egwene let it pass. The bowl was important, they could take care of themselves, and she knew very well they were not looking in the Tarasin Palace. She almost let it pass, anyway. “You are making use of Mat, aren’t you?”

“We—” Abruptly Elayne became aware of her dress and gave a start. For some reason, though, it seemed to be the small knife that truly startled her. Eyes popping, she clutched the hilt, a mass of large red and white glass beads, and her face went absolutely crimson. An instant later she was in a high-necked Andoran gown of green silk.

The funny thing was, Nynaeve realized what she was wearing only a heartbeat behind Elayne, and reacted exactly the same. Exactly. Except maybe that if Elayne blushed like a sunset, Nynaeve blushed for two. She was back into Two Rivers woolens even before Elayne changed.

Clearing her throat, Elayne said breathily, “Mat is quite useful, I’m sure, but we cannot allow him to get in our way, Egwene. You know how he is. You can be sure, though, if we do anything dangerous, we will have him and all his soldiers cheek to cheek around us.” Nynaeve was silent, and looking sour. Perhaps remembering Mat’s threat.

“Nynaeve, you won’t push at Mat too hard, will you?”

Elayne laughed. “Egwene, she is not pushing at him at all.”

“That’s the simple truth,” Nynaeve put in quickly. “I’ve not said a cross word to him since we arrived in Ebou Dar.”

Egwene nodded doubtfully. She could reach the bottom of this, but it would take. . . . She glanced down to make sure the stole had not reappeared, and saw only a flicker that even she could not recognize.

“Egwene,” Elayne said, “have you been able to speak with the dream-walkers yet?”

“Yes,” Nynaeve said. “Do they know what the problem is?”

“I have.” Egwene sighed. “They don’t, not really.”

It had been an odd meeting, only a few days ago, begun by finding Bair’s dreams. Bair and Melaine had met her in the Stone of Tear; Amys had said she would not teach Egwene more, and she did not come. At first, Egwene felt awkward. She could not bring herself to tell them she was Aes Sedai, much less Amyrlin, afraid they might believe it another lie. There had certainly been no difficulty with the stole appearing then. And then there was her toh to Melaine. She brought it up, thinking all the while about how many miles she had to spend in a saddle the next day, but Melaine was so full of pleasure that she was going to have daughters—she rhapsodized over Min’s viewing—that she not only announced straight away that Egwene had no toh toward her, but said she was going to name one of the girls Egwene. That had been a small pleasure in a night full of futility and irritation.

“What they said,” she went on, “was that they had never heard of anyone trying to find something with need again after they had already found it. Bair thought maybe it was like trying to eat the same . . . apple twice.” The same motai was what Bair had said; a motai was a kind of grub found in the Waste. Quite sweet and crunchy—until Egwene found out what she was eating.

“You mean we just can’t go back to the storeroom?” Elayne sighed. “I was hoping we were doing something wrong. Oh, well. We’ll find it anyway.” She hesitated, and her dress changed again, though she did not seem to notice. It was still Andoran, but red, with the White Lions of Andor climbing the sleeves and marching across the bodice. A queen’s dress, even without the Rose Crown resting on her red-gold curls. But a queen’s dress with a close-fitting bodice that showed perhaps more cleavage than an Andoran queen would. “Egwene, did they say anything about Rand?”

“He’s in Cairhien, lolling about in the Sun Palace, it seems.” Egwene managed to not wince. Neither Bair nor Melaine had been very forthcoming, but Melaine muttered darkly about Aes Sedai while Bair said that they should all be beaten at regular intervals; whatever Sorilea said, a simple beating should be enough. Egwene was very much afraid that somehow Merana had managed to put a foot very wrong. At least he was putting Elaida’s emissaries off; she did not think he knew how to handle them nearly as well as he thought he did. “Perrin is with him. And Perrin’s wife! He married Faile!” That brought exclamations; Nynaeve said Faile was much too good for him, but said it smiling broadly; Elayne said she hoped they would be happy, but she sounded doubtful for some reason. “Loial is there, too. And Min. All it needs is Mat and the three of us.”

Elayne bit her underlip. “Egwene, would you pass a . . . a message to the Wise Ones for Min? Tell her. . . .” She hesitated, chewing her lip in thought. “Tell her I hope she can come to like Aviendha as much as she likes me. I know that sounds odd,” she laughed. “It’s a private matter between us.” Nynaeve looked at Elayne as oddly as Egwene knew she herself was.

“I will, of course. I don’t mean to talk with them again for some time, though.” There was not much point when they were as uncommunicative concerning Rand as they were. And as hostile toward Aes Sedai.

“Oh, that is fine,” Elayne said quickly. “It really isn’t important. Well, if we can’t use need, then we must use feet, and in Ebou Dar, mine are aching right now. If you don’t mind, I will go back to my body and g