“What's put a hook in your gills today, girl?” Siuan had on a gown like those Leane wore, only more sheer than even Leane would ever wear in public, so thin it was hard to tell what color it was. Not the first time she had had that on today, either. What was perking around in the back of the woman's mind? In the World of Dreams, things like these changes of clothing betrayed thoughts you might not even know you had. “You have been almost decent company until today,” Siuan continued irritably, then paused. “Until today. I see it now. Yesterday afternoon Sheriam assigned Theodrin to begin helping you break down that block you've built up. Is that what has your shift in a twist? You don't like Theodrin telling you what to do? She's a wilder, too, girl. If anyone can help you learn to channel without eating nettles first, she —”

“And what has you so jittery you can't hold your dress still?” Theodrin — that was what really hurt. The failure. “Maybe it's something I heard last night?” Theodrin was eventempered, goodhumored, patient; she said it could not be done in one session; her own block had taken months to demolish, and she had finally realized she was channeling long before going to the Tower. Still, failure hurt, and worst of all, if anyone ever discovered that she had cried like a baby in Theodrin's comforting arms when she knew she was failing... “I heard you heaved Gareth Bryne's boots at his head when he told you to sit down and polish them properly — he still doesn't know Min does the polishing, does he? — so he turned you upside down and —”

Siuan's fullarmed slap rung her ears. For an instant she could only stare at the other woman, eyes going wider and wider. With a wordless shriek, she tried to punch Siuan in the eye. Tried, because somehow Siuan had tangled a fist in her hair. A moment later they were down in the dirt of the street, rolling about and screaming, flailing wildly.

Grunting, Nynaeve thought she was getting the better of it even if she did not know whether she was on the top or the bottom half the time. Siuan was trying to yank her braid out by the roots with one hand while the other pounded at her ribs or anything else it could find, but she had the other woman the same way, and Siuan's yanking and punching were definitely growing weaker, and she herself was going to pound Siuan senseless in another minute, then snatch her bald. Nynaeve yelped as a toe caught her hard on the shin. The woman kicked! Nynaeve tried to knee her, but it was not easy in skirts. Kicking was not fighting fair!

Suddenly Nynaeve realized that Siuan was shaking. At first she thought the woman was crying. Then she realized it was laughter. Pushing herself up, she brushed strands of hair out of her face — her braid was all but undone — and glared down at the other woman. “What are you laughing at? Me? If you are...!”

“Not at you. At us.” Still quivering with mirth, Siuan shoved Nynaeve off her. Siuan's hair was in wild disarray, and dust covered the plain wool dress she wore now, wornlooking and neatly darned in several places. She was barefoot, too. “Two grown women, rolling around like... I haven't done that since I was... twelve, I think. I started thinking that all we needed would be fat Cian snatching me up by an ear to tell me girls don't fight. I heard she once knocked down a drunken printer, I don't know why.” Something very like giggles took her for a moment, then she quieted them and stood, brushing dust from her clothes. “If we have a disagreement, we can settle it like adult women.” And in a careful tone, “Still, it might be a good idea not to discuss Gareth Bryne.” She gave a start as the worn dress became a gown, red with blackandgold embroidery around hem and swooping neckline.

Nynaeve sat there staring at her. What would she have done as Wisdom if she found two women rolling around in the dirt that way? If anything, the answer kept her anger at a simmer. Siuan still did not seem to realize that there was no need to brush away dust with your hands in Tel'aran'rhiod. Snatching away fingers that had been repairing her braid, Nynaeve got up quickly; before she was on her feet again, her braid hung perfect over her shoulder and her good Two Rivers woolens might have just been laundered.

“I agree,” she said. She would have made any two women she caught like that sorry they had been born even before she hauled them before the Women's Circle. What was she doing lashing out with her fists like some fool man? First Cerandin — she did not want to think about that episode, but there it was — then Latelle, and now this. Was she going to get around her block by being angry all the time? Unfortunately — or perhaps fortunately — that thought did nothing for her temper. “If we have disagreements, we can... discuss them.”

“Which I suppose means we'll shout at one another,” Siuan said dryly. “Well, better that than the other.”

“We would not have to shout if you —!” Drawing a deep breath, Nynaeve jerked her eyes away; this was no way to begin anew. That breath caught in her throat, and she turned her head back to Siuan so quickly it seemed she had been shaking it. She hoped it did. Just for an instant, there had been a face in .a window across the Street. And there was a flutter in her belly, a bubble of fear, a burn of anger at being afraid. “I think we should go back now,” she said quietly.

“Go back! You said that vile concoction would put me to sleep for a good two hours, and we haven't been here much more than half that.”

“Time works differently here.” Had it been Moghedien? The face had vanished so quickly it could have been someone dreaming herself here for an instant. If it was Moghedien, they must not — must not on any account — let her know she had been seen. They had to get away. Bubble of fear, burn of anger. “I told you. A day in Tel'aran'rhiod can be an hour in the waking world, or the other way round. We —”

“I've dipped better out of the bilge in a bucket, girl. You needn't think you can get away with shortchanging me. You'll teach me everything you teach the others, as agreed. We can go when I wake up.”

There was no time. If it had been Moghedien. Siuan's dress was green silk now, and the Amyrlin's stole and her Great Serpent ring were back, but for a wonder the neckline was almost as low as anything she had worn before. The ring ter'angreal hung above her breasts, somehow part of a necklace of square emeralds.

Nynaeve moved without thinking. Her hand lashed out, snatched the necklace so hard it tore free from Siuan's neck. Siuan's eyes widened, but as soon as the clasp broke, she vanished, and necklace and ring melted from Nynaeve's hand. For an instant she stared at her empty fingers. What happened to someone sent out of Tel'aran'rhiod like that? Had she sent Siuan back to her sleeping body? Or to s