It was an effort to keep her mouth shut. Taking what she told him and making it an injunction to her! Next thing the man would want to pack her and Elayne in wool and sit them on a shelf! Wouldn't it be best if someone did? a tiny voice asked. Haven't you caused enough trouble going your own way? She told the voice to be quiet. It did not listen, but began listing disasters and near disasters sprung from her own stubbornness.

Apparently taking her silence for acquiescence, .he turned away from her — and stopped. Ragan and Uno had moved to block his way to the street, glancing at her with that strange, deceptive calm men so often adopted when they were a hairsbreadth from sudden violence. The air seemed to crackle, until she motioned hurriedly. The Shienarans lowered their blades and stood aside, and Galad took his hands from his sword, brushed past them and melded into the crowd without a backward glance.

Nynaeve gave Uno and Ragan each a good glare before stalking off in the opposite direction. There she had had everything arranged properly, and they had to nearly ruin it all. Men always seemed to think violence could solve anything. If she had had a stout stick, she would have thumped all three of them about the shoulders until they saw reason.

The Shienarans seemed to see a little of it, now; they caught up to her, swords scabbarded on their backs once more, and followed without a word, even when she twice took a wrong turn and had to double back. It was especially well for them that they kept silent then. She had had enough of holding her tongue. First Masema, and then Galad. All she wanted was a waferthin excuse to tell someone exactly what she thought. Especially that little voice in her head, pushed back to an insect buzz now but refusing to be quiet.

By the time they were out of Samara and on that dirt cart track, with its sparse traffic, the voice refused to be denied. She worried over Rand's arrogance, but hers had brought herself and others as near calamity as made no never mind. For Birgitte, perhaps it was well over the line, even if she was alive. The best thing was for Nynaeve not to confront them again, not the Black Ajah and not Moghedien, not until someone who knew what they were doing could decide what should be done. Protest welled up, but she stamped on it as firmly as she ever had on Thom or Juilin. She would go to Salidar and hand the matter over to the Blues. That was how it would be. She was set on it.

“Have you eaten something that disagrees with you?” Ragan said. “Your mouth is twisted as if you had chewed a ripe duckberry.”

She gave him a look that snapped his teeth shut and stalked on. The two Shienarans kept pace to either side.

What was she going to do with them? That she should put them to some use was never in doubt; their appearance was too providential to throw away. For one thing, two additional pairs of eyes — well, three eyes anyway; she was going to learn to look at that patch without swallowing if it killed her — more eyes hunting for a ship might mean finding one sooner. All very well if Masema or Galad found a vessel first, but she did not want either to know more of her doings than she had to allow. There was no telling what either might do.“Are you following me because Masema told you to look after me,” she demanded, “or because Galad did?”

“What flaming difference does it make?” Uno muttered. “If the Lord Dragon has summoned you, you bloody well —” He cut off, frowning, as she raised one finger. Ragan eyed it as if it were a weapon.

“Do you mean to help Elayne and me reach Rand?”

“We've nothing better to do,” Ragan said dryly. “As it is, we'll not see Shienar again till we are gray and toothless. We might as well ride with you to Tear or wherever he is.”

She had not considered that, but it made sense. Two more to help Thom and Juilin with chores and standing guard. No need to let them know how long that might take, or how many stops and detours could lie along the way. The Blues in Salidar might not let any of them go further. Once they reached Aes Sedai, they would be only Accepted again. Stop thinking about it! You are going to do it!

The crowd waiting in front of Luca's garish sign appeared no smaller than it had before. A stream of people trickled into the meadow to join the throng as another stream meandered out, exclaiming over what they had seen. Now and again the “boarhorses” were visible, rearing above the canvas wall, to oohs and aahs from those waiting to get in. Cerandin was putting them through their paces again. The Seanchan woman always saw that the s'redit got plenty of rest. She was very firm about that, whatever Luca wanted. Men did do as they were told when you left no doubt that anything else was inconceivable. Usually they did.

Short of the welltrampled brown grass, Nynaeve stopped and turned to face the two Shienarans. She kept her face calm, but they looked suitably wary, though in Uno's case, regrettably, that involved fiddling with his eyepatch in a queasymaking way. The folk heading to or from the show paid no heed to them.

“Then it will not be because of Masema or Galad,” she said firmly. “If you are going to travel with me, you will do as I say, else you can go your own way, for I'll have none of you.”

Of course they had to exchange glances before nodding acceptance. “If that's how it flaming has to be,” Uno growled, “then well enough. If you don't have somebody to bloody well look after you, you'll never flaming live to reach the Lord Dragon. Some sheepgutted farmer will have you for breakfast because of your tongue.” Ragan gave him a guarded look that said be agreed with every word but strongly doubted Uno's wisdom in voicing them. Ragan, it seemed, had the makings of a wise man in him.

If they accepted her terms, it did not really matter why. For now. There would be plenty of time later to set them straight.

“I don't doubt the others will agree, too,” Ragan said.

“Others?” she said, blinking. “You mean there are more than the two of you? How many?”

“There are only fifteen of us altogether now. I don't think Bartu or Nengar will come.”

“Sniffing after the bloody Prophet.” Uno turned his head and spat copiously. "Only fifteen. Sar went over that bloody cliff in the mountains, and Mendao had to get himself into a flaming duel with three Hunters for the Horn, and...

Nynaeve was too busy stopping herself from gaping to listen. Fifteen! She could not help toting up in her head what it would cost to feed fifteen men. Even when they were not particularly hungry, Thom or Juilin either one ate more than Elayn