"Here is water and shade," Bair said, lifting her water, "freely given. Let there be no constraints between us. All here are welcome, as first-sisters are welcome."

"Let there be no constraints," Amys and the other two murmured. After one sip of water, the Aiel women named themselves formally. Bair, of the Haido sept of the Shaarad Aiel. Amys, of the Nine Valleys sept of the Taardad Aiel. Melaine, of the Jhirad sept of the Goshien Aiel. Seana, of the Black Cliff sept of the Nakai Aiel.

Egwene and Moiraine followed the ritual, though Moiraine's mouth tightened when Egwene called herself an Aes Sedai of the Green Ajah.

As if the sharing of water and names had broken down a wall, the mood in the tent changed palpably. Smiles from the Aiel women, a subtle relaxation, and said formalities were done.

Egwene was more grateful for the water than for the wine. It might be cooler in the tent than outside, but just breathing still dried her throat. At Amys's gesture she eagerly poured a second cup.

The people in white had been a surprise. It was foolish, but she realized she had been thinking that except for the Wise Ones Aiel were all like Rhuarc and Aviendha, warriors. Of course they had blacksmiths and weavers and other craftsmen; they must. Why not servants? Only, Aviendha had been disdainful of the servants in the Stone, not letting them do anything for her that she could avoid. These people with their humble demeanor did not act like Aiel at all. She did not recall seeing any white in the two large camps. "Is it only Wise Ones who have servants?" she asked.

Melaine choked on her wine. "Servants?" she gasped. "They are gai'shain, not servants." She sounded as if that should explain everything,

Moiraine frowned slightly over her winecup. "Gai'shain? How does that translate? 'Those sworn to peace in battle'?"

"They are simply gai'shain," Amys said. She seemed to realize they did not understand. "Forgive me, but do you know of ji'e'toh?"

"Honor and obligation," Moiraine replied promptly. "Or perhaps honor and duty."

"Those are the words, yes. But the meaning. We live by ji'e'toh, Aes Sedai."

"Do not try to tell them all, Amys," Bair cautioned. "I once spent a month trying to explain ji'e'toh to a wetlander, and at the end she had more questions than at the beginning."

Amys nodded. "I will stay to the core. If you wish it explained, Moiraine."

Egwene would as soon have begun talk of Dreaming, and training, but to her irritation, the Aes Sedai said, "Yes, if you will."

With a nod to Moiraine, Amys began. "I will follow the line of gai'shain simply. In the dance of spears, the most ji, honor, is earned by touching an armed enemy without killing, or harming in any way."

"The most honor because it is so difficult," Seana said, bluish gray eyes crinkling wryly, "and thus so seldom done."

"The smallest honor comes from killing," Amys continued. "A child or a fool can kill. In between is the taking of a captive. I pare it down, you see. There are many degrees. Gai'shain are captives taken so, though a warrior who has been touched may sometimes demand to be taken gai'shain to reduce his enemy's honor and his own loss."

"Maidens of the Spear and Stone Dogs especially are known for this," Seana put in, bringing a sharp look from Amys.

"Do I tell this, or do you? To continue. Some may not be taken gai'shain, of course. A Wise One, a blacksmith, a child, a woman with child or one who has a child under the age of ten. A gai'shain has toh to his or her captor. For gai'shain, this is to serve one year and a day, obeying humbly, touching no weapon, doing no violence."

Egwene was interested in spite of herself. "Don't they try to escape? I certainly would." I'll never let anyone make me a prisoner again!

The Wise Ones looked shocked. "It has happened," Seana said stiffly, "but there is no honor in it. A gai'shain who ran away would be returned by his or her sept to begin the year and a day anew. The loss of honor is so great that a first-brother or first-sister might go as gai'shain as well to discharge the sept's toh. More than one, if they feel the loss of ji is great."

Moiraine seemed to be taking it all in calmly, sipping her water, but it was all Egwene could do not to shake her head. The Aiel were insane; that was all there was to it. It got worse.

"Some gai'shain now make an arrogance of humbleness," Melaine said disapprovingly. "They think they earn honor by it, taking obedience and meekness to the point of mockery. This is a new thing and foolish. It has no part in ji'e'toh."

Bair laughed, a startling rich sound compared to her reedy voice. "There have always been fools. When I was a girl, and the Shaarad and the Tomanelle were stealing each other's cattle and goats every night, Chenda, the roofmistress of Mainde Cut, was pushed aside by a young Haido Water Seeker during a raid. She came to Bent Valley and demanded the boy make her gai'shain; she would not allow him to gain the honor of having touched her because she had a carving knife in her hands when he did. A carving knife! It was a weapon, she claimed, as if she were a Maiden. The boy had no choice but to do as she demanded, for all the laughter when he did. One does not send a roofmistress barefoot back to her hold. Before the year and a day was done, the Haido sept and the Jenda sept exchanged spears, and the boy soon found himself married to Chenda's eldest daughter. With his second-mother still gai'shain to him. He tried to give her to his wife as part of his bride gift, and both women claimed he was trying to rob them of honor. He nearly had to take his own wife as gai'shain. It came close to raiding between Haido and Jenda again before the toh was discharged." The Aiel women almost fell over laughing, Amys and Melaine wiping their eyes.

Egwene understood little of the story – certainly not why it was funny – but she managed a polite laugh.

Moiraine set her water aside for the small silver cup of wine. "I have heard men speak of fighting the Aiel, but I have never heard of this before. Certainly not of an Aiel surrendering because he was touched."

"It is not surrender," Amys said pointedly. "It is ji'e'toh."

"No one would ask to be made gai'shain to a wetlander," Melaine said. "Outlanders do not know of ji'e'toh."

The Aiel women exchanged looks. They were uncomfortable. Why? Egwene wondered. Oh. To the Aiel, not to know ji'e'toh must be like not knowing manners, or not being honorable. "There are honorable men and women among us," Egwene said. "Most of us. We know right from wrong."

"Of course you do," Bair murmured in a tone that said that was not the same thing at all.

"You sent a letter to me in Tear," Moiraine said, "before I ever reached there. You said a great many things, some of which have proven true. Including that I would – must – meet you here today; you Very nearly commanded me to be here. Yet earlier you said if I came. How much of what you wrote did you know to be true?"

Amys sighed and set aside her cup of wine, but it was Bair who spoke. "Much is uncertain, even to a dream walker. Amys and Melaine are the best of us, and even they do not see all that is, or all that can be."

"The present is much clearer than the future even in Tel'aran'rhiod," the sun-haired Wise One said. "What is happening or beginning is more easily seen than what will happen, or may. We did not see Egwene or Mat Cauthon at all. It was no more than an even chance that the young man who calls himself Rand al'Thor would come. If he did not, it was certain that he would die, and the Aiel too. Yet he has come, and if he survives Rhuidean, some of the Aiel at least will survive. This we know. If you had not come, he would have died. If Aan'allein had not come, you would have died. If you do not go through the rings —" She cut off as if she had bitten her tongue.