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lie. She plucked at the fine wool of her dress. “I suppose it won’t kill me to wear this a little longer.” Suddenly Siuan looked amused; Min felt her hackles rising.
    “I fear that won’t be enough. Min in a dress is still Min in a dress to anyone who looks close. You cannot always wear a cloak with the hood up. No, you must change everything that can be changed. For one thing, you will continue to go by Elmindreda. It is your name, after all.” Min winced. “Your hair is almost as long as Leane’s, long enough to put in curls. For the rest … . I never had any use for rouge and powder and paints, but Leane remembers the use of them.”
    Min’s eyes had grown wider by the word since the mention of curls. “Oh, no,” she gasped.
    “No one will take you for Min who wears breeches once Leane makes you into a perfect Elmindreda.”
    “Oh, NO!”
    “As to why you are staying in the Tower—a reason suitable for a fluttery young woman who looks and acts nothing at all like Min.” The Amyrlin frowned thoughtfully, ignoring Min’s efforts to break in. “Yes. I will let it be put about that Mistress Elmindreda managed to encourage two suitors to the point that she has to take shelter from them in the tower until she can decide between them. A few women still claim sanctuary each year, and sometimes for reasons as silly.” Her face hardened, and her eyes sharpened. “If you’re still thinking of Tear, think again. Consider whether you can be of more help to Rand there, or here. If the Black Ajah brings the Tower down, or worse, gains control, he loses even the little help I can give. So. Are you a woman, or a lovesick girl?”

    Trapped. Min could see it as plainly as a shackle, on her leg. “Do you always get your way with people, Mother?”
    The Amyrlin’s smile was even colder this time. “Usually, child. Usually.”
     
     
    Shifting her red-fringed shawl, Elaida stared thoughtfully at the door to the Amyrlin’s study, through which the two young women had just vanished. The novice came back out almost immediately, took one look at Elaida’s face, and bleated like a frightened sheep. Elaida thought she recognized her, though she could not bring the girl’s name to mind. She had more important uses for her time than teaching wretched children.
    “Your name?”
    “Sahra, Elaida Sedai.” The girl’s reply was a breathless squeak. Elaida might have no interest in novices, but the novices knew her, and her reputation.
    She remembered the girl now. A daydreamer with moderate ability who would never be of any real power. It was doubtful she knew anything more than Elaida had already seen and heard—or remembered much more than Gawyn’s smile, for that matter. A fool. Elaida flicked a dismissive hand.
    The girl dropped a curtsy so deep her face almost touched the floor tiles, then fled at a dead run.
    Elaida did not see her go. The Red sister had turned away, already forgetting the novice. As she swept down the corridor, not a line marred her smooth features, but her thoughts boiled furiously. She did not even notice the servants, the novices and Accepted, who scrambled out of her way, curtsying as she passed. Once she almost walked over a Brown sister with her nose in a sheaf of notes. The plump Brown jumped back with a startled squawk that Elaida did not hear.
    Dress or no dress, she knew the young woman who had gone in to see the Amyrlin. Min, who had spent so much time with the Amyrlin on her first visit to the Tower, though for no reason anyone knew. Min, who was such close friends with Elayne, Egwene, and Nynaeve. The Amyrlin was hiding the whereabouts of those three. Elaida was sure of it. All reports that they were serving penance on a farm had come at third or fourth hand from Siuan Sanche, more than enough distance to hide any twisting of words to avoid an outright lie. Not to mention the fact that all Elaida’s considerable efforts to find this farm had yielded nothing.
    “The Light burn