Nisain smoothed her dark woolen skirts nervously and cleared her throat. A gangly Gray with a strong chin and startlingly blue eyes, she had some small repute in matters of law and treaties, but she was obviously uneasy about speaking before the Hall. She looked straight at Egwene with the air of someone who did not want to actually see all the Sitters assembled. “Given the amount of saidar used there, Mother, it was no surprise to find the residues near as thick as the snow.” More than a hint of Murandy clung to her tongue, a lilting sound. “Even after so long, I should have been able to grasp some idea of what was woven, if it was at all like anything I’m familiar with, but I have none. I could all but trace the weave, Mother, and it made no sense at all. None. In fact, it seemed so alien, it might not have been…” Clearing her throat again, she swallowed. Her face grew a little paler. “It might not have been woven by a woman. We thought it must have been the Forsaken, of course, so I tested for resonance. We all did.” Half-turning to gesture to her companions, she hurriedly turned back. She definitely preferred looking at Egwene to the Sitters, all leaning forward intently. “I can’t say what was done, beyond scooping three miles out of the earth, or how it was done, but saidin was definitely used, too. The resonance was so strong, we should have been able to smell it. There was more saidin used than saidar, much more, Dragonmount beside a foothill. And that is all I can say, Mother.” A sound fluttered through the pavilion, the sound of sisters letting out the breath they had been holding. Sheriam’s exhalation seemed the loudest, but perhaps that was just because she was nearest.

Egwene schooled her face to stillness. The Forsaken, and a weave that could tear away half of Tar Valon. If Malind did propose flight, could she try to make the sisters remain and face that? Could she abandon Tar Valon, and the Tower, and the Light knew how many tens of thousands of lives? “Does anyone else have a question?” she asked.

“I have one,” Romanda said in a dry tone. Her calm had not cracked by a hair. “But not for these sisters. If no one has any fur­ther questions for them, I’m sure they would like to be away from having the Hall stare at them.”

It was not precisely her place to suggest that, but neither was it precisely not, so Egwene let it pass. No one else had questions for Akarrin or her companions, as it turned out, and Romanda offered them surprisingly warm thanks for their efforts. Again, not pre­cisely her place.

“Who is your question for?” Egwene asked as Akarrin and the other five scattered to join the growing numbers of sisters crowd­ing among the stand-lamps and braziers. They were eager, as Romanda had said, to get out from under the Hall’s eyes, but they did want to hear what came of their work. It was very difficult for Egwene to keep asperity out of her voice. Romanda affected not to notice. Or perhaps did not notice.

“For Moria,” she said. “We suspected the Forsaken from the start. We knew that whatever happened was powerful, and far away. All we’ve learned, really, is that Shadar Logoth is gone, and of that I can only say, the world is better off without that sinkhole of the Shadow.” She fixed the Blue Sitter with a frown that had made many an Aes Sedai squirm like a novice. “My question is this. Has anything changed for us?”

“It should,” Moria replied, meeting the other woman’s stare levelly. She might not have been in the Hall as long as Romanda, but Sitters were at least supposedly on an equal footing. “We have long had preparations in case the Forsaken do come against us. Every sister does know to form a circle if she be able, or join one she does find forming, until every circle does reach thirteen. Every­one is to be brought in, even the novices, even the newest.” Lelaine looked up at her sharply, but however much she wanted to chide Moria, they were of the same Ajah. They must give at least the appearance of a common front. The effort of keeping her mouth shut thinned Lelaine’s lips, though.

Romanda was under no such constraint. “Must you explain what everyone here already knows? We are the ones who made those arrangements. Perhaps you have forgotten?” This time, her voice was cutting. Open displays of anger were forbidden in the Hall, but not goading.

If Moria felt the prick, though, she gave no outward sign beyond adjusting her shawl. “I must explain from the beginning, because we have no thought far enough. Malind, can our circles stand against what Akarrin and Nisain described?”

Despite her fierce eyes, Malind’s full mouth always looked ready to smile, but she was quite stern as she stood, and she stared at each Sitter in turn as if to impress her words on them. “They cannot. Even if we rearrange matters so the strongest sisters are always in the same circle – and that means they must live, eat and sleep together, if they’re to link on the moment – even then, we would be mice facing a cat. Enough mice can overwhelm even a large hungry cat, but not before many mice are dead. If enough of these mice die, though, the White Tower dies.” Again that ripple of sighs ran though the pavilion like an unsteady breeze.

Egwene managed to keep her face calm, but she had to force her fists to relax their grip on her skirt. Which would they propose, an assault or flight? Light, how could she oppose them?

Same Ajah or not, Lelaine could take the strain no longer. “What are you suggesting, Moria?” she snapped. “Even if we re­unite the Tower this very day, that won’t change the facts.”

Moria smiled slightly, as if the other Blue had said just what she was hoping someone would say. “But we must change the facts. The fact at present do be that our strongest circles be too weak. We do have no angreal, much less sa’angreal, so we might as well ignore them. I’m no certain there be anything even in the Tower that would make a large enough difference, anyway. How, then, do we make our circles stronger? Strong enough, we must hope, to face what happened at Shadar Logoth and stop it. Escaralde, what have you to say on the matter?”

Startled, Egwene leaned forward. They were working together. But to what end?

She was not the only one to realize that the three Sitters who had called the Hall were all on their feet. By remaining standing, Moria and Malind had made a clear declaration. Escaralde stood like a queen, yet the tiny Brown seemed all too aware of the eyes sliding between her and Malind and Moria, the thoughtful frowns and too-still faces. She shifted her shawl twice before speaking. She sounded as though she were lecturing a class, her voice thin yet forceful.

“The ancient literature is quite clear, though little studied, I fear. It gathers dust rather than readers. Writings collected in the earliest years of the Tower make it plain that circles were not lim­ited to thirteen, in the Age of Legends. The precise mechanism – I should say, the precise balance – is unknown, but it should not be too difficult to work out. For those of you who have not spent the time you should have in the Tower library, the manner of increasing the size of a circle involves…” For the first time, she faltered, and visibly forced herself to continue. “… involves the inclusion of men who can channel.”

Faiselle popped to her feet. “What are you suggesting?” she demanded and sat down immediately, as though someone might think she was standing in support.

“I do ask that the Hall be cleared!” Magla said, rising. Like Moria, she was Illianer, and agitation thickened her accent markedly. “This do no be a matter for discussion before any save the Hall in closed sitting.” She, too, dropped back onto her bench as soon as she finished, and sat glowering, wide shoulders hunched and hands opening and closing on her skirts.