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woman eyed her bloody spear distastefully; Wise Ones were not supposed to carry spears. She ostentatiously laid the weapon in the crook of her elbow, the way she had seen chiefs do, as Rhiale went on. “Wetlanders have attacked from the south. Wetlanders and
siswai’aman
.” She imbued the word with all the scorn proper for those who would name themselves Spears of the Dragon. “Maidens as well. And. . . . And there are Wise Ones.”
    “Fighting?” Sevanna said incredulously before realizing how it sounded. If she could toss out decayed custom, surely those sun-blinded fools to the south who still called themselves Aiel could as well. She had not expected it, though. No doubt Sorilea had brought them; that old woman reminded Sevanna of a landslide plunging down a mountain, carrying all before it. “We must attack them at once. They will not have Rand al’Thor. Or ruin our vengeance for Desaine,” she added when Rhiale’s eyes widened.
    “They are Wise Ones,” the other woman said in a flat tone, and Sevanna understood bitterly. Joining the dance of spears was bad enough, but Wise One attacking Wise One was more than even Rhiale would countenance. She had agreed that Desaine must die—how else could the other Wise Ones, not to mention the
algai’d’siswai
, be brought to attack Aes Sedai, which they must do to put Rand al’Thor in their hands, and with him all the Aiel?—yet that was done in secret, surrounded by like-mindedwomen. This would be before everyone. Fools and cowards, all of them!
    “Then fight those enemies you can bring yourself to fight, Rhiale.” She bit off every word with as much scorn as she could, but Rhiale merely nodded, adjusted her shawl with another glance at the spear on Sevanna’s arm and returned to her place in the line.
    Perhaps there was a way to make the other Wise Ones move first. Better to attack by surprise, but better anything than that they should snatch Rand al’Thor from her very hands. What she would not give for a woman who could channel and would do as she was told without balking. What she would not give to be on a rise, where she could see how the battle went.
    Keeping her spear ready and a wary eye out for wolves—those she could see were either killing men and women in
cadin’sor
or were dead themselves—she returned to shouting encouragement. To the south more fire and lightning fell among the Shaido than before, but it made no difference that she could tell. That battle, with its explosions of flame and earth and people, continued unabated.
    “Push spears!” she shouted, waving hers. “Push spears!” Among the churning
algai’d’siswai
she could not make out any of the fools who had tied a bit of red cloth around their temples and named themselves
siswai’aman
. Perhaps they were too few to alter the course of events. The knots of wetlanders certainly seemed few and far between. Even as she watched, one was swarmed under, men and horses, by stabbing spears. “Push spears! Push spears!” Exultation filled her voice. If the Aes Sedai called ten thousand wolves, if Sorilea had brought a thousand Wise Ones and a hundred thousand spears, the Shaido would still emerge victorious today. The Shaido, and herself. Sevanna of the Jumai Shaido would be a name remembered forever.
    Suddenly a hollow boom sounded amid the roar of battle. It seemed to come from the direction of the Aes Sedai wagons, but nothing told her whether they had caused it, or the Wise Ones. She disliked things she did not understand, yet she was not about to ask Rhiale or the others and flaunt her ignorance. And her lack of the ability all here had, save her. It counted for nothing among themselves, but another thing she did not like was for others to have power she did not.
    A flicker of light among the
algai’d’siswai
, a sense of something turning, caught the corner of her eye, but when she turned to look, there was nothing. Again the same thing happened, a flash of light seen on