They swept toward the door without letting him say more. Well, he had not really thought they would explain anything. Both were Aes Sedai to the bone. A man learned to live with what he had to.

Tylin had all but slipped from his mind, but he had not from hers. She caught him up before he took two steps. Nynaeve and Elayne paused at the door with Aviendha and Birgitte, watching. So they saw when Tylin pinched his bottom. Some things, nobody could learn to live with. Elayne put on a face of commiseration, Nynaeve of glowering disapproval. Aviendha fought laughter none too successfully, while Birgitte wore her grin openly. They allbloody knew.

"Nynaeve thinks you are a little boy needing protection," Tylin breathed up at him. "I know you are a grown man." Her smoky chuckle made that the dirtiest comment he had ever heard. The four women by the door got to watch his face turn beet red. "I will miss you, pigeon. What you did with Renaile was magnificent. I do so admire masterful men."

"I’ll miss you, too," he muttered. To his shock, that was simple truth. He was leaving Ebou Dar just in time. "But if we meet again, I’ll do the chasing."

She chortled at him, and those dark eagle’s eyes almost glowed. "I admire masterful men, duckling. But not when they try being masterful with me." Seizing his ears, she pulled his head down where she could kiss him.

He never saw Nynaeve and the others go, and he walked out on unsteady legs, tucking his shirt back in. He had to return to fetch his spear from the corner, and his hat. The woman had no shame. Not a scrap of it.

He found Thom and Juilin, coming out of Tylin’s apartments, followed by Nerim and Lopin, Nalesean’s stout man, who each lugged a large wicker pannier made for a packsaddle. Loaded with his belongings, he realized. Juilin carried Mat’s unstrung bow and had his quiver slung on one shoulder. Well, she had said she was moving him.

"I found this on your pillow," Thom said, tossing him the ring he had bought what seemed a year ago. "A parting gift, it seems; there were loversknots and some other flowers strewn over bothpillows."

Mat jammed the ring onto his finger. "It’s mine, burn you. I paid for it myself."

The old gleeman knuckled his mustaches and coughed in a failed effort to stifle a sudden wide grin. Juilin snatched off that ridiculous Taraboner hat and became engrossed in studying the inside of it.

"Blood and flaming —!" Mat drew a deep breath. "I hope you two spared a moment for your own belongings," he said levelly, "because as soon as I grab Olver, we’re on our way, even if we happen to leave a moldy harp or a rusty sword-breaker behind." Juilin tugged at the corner of his eye with one finger, whatever that was supposed to mean, but Thom actually frowned. Insults to Thom’s flute or his harp were insults to himself.

"My Lord," Lopin said mournfully. He was a dark, balding man, rounder than Sumeko, and his black Tairen commoner’s coat, tight to the waist then flaring, like Juilin’s, fit very tightly indeed. Normally almost as solemn as Nerim, now he had reddened eyes, as though he had been weeping. "My Lord, is there any chance I might remain to see Lord Nalesean buried? He was a good master."

Mat hated saying no. "Anybody left behind might be left for a long time, Lopin," he said gently. "Listen, I’ll need someone to help look after Olver. Nerim has his hands full with me. For that matter, Nerim will go back to Talmanes, you know. If you’d like, I will take you on myself." He had grown used to having a manservant, and these were hard times for a man hunting work.

"I would like that very much, my Lord," the fellow said lugubriously. "Young Olver reminds me much of my youngest sister’s son."

Only, when they entered Mat’s former rooms, the Lady Riselle was there, much more decently clothed than when he had last seen her, and quite alone.

"Why should I have kept him tied to me?" she said, that truly marvelous bosom heaving with emotion as she planted her fists on her hips. The Queen’s duckling, it seemed, was not supposed to take a snappish tone with the Queen’s attendants. "Clip a boy’s wings too far, and he will never grow to a proper man. He read his pages aloud sitting on my knee — he might have read all day, had I allowed it — and did his numbers, so I let him go. Why are you in such a bother? He promised to return by sunset, and he seems to set a great store by his promises."

Propping the ashandareiin its old corner, Mat told the other men to drop their burdens and go find Vanin and the remaining Redarms. Then he left Riselle’s spectacular bosom and ran all the way to the rooms Nynaeve and the other women shared. They were all there, in the sitting room, and so was Lan, with his Warder’s cloak already draped down his back and saddlebags on his shoulders. His saddlebags and Nynaeve’s, it seemed. A good many bundles of dresses and not-so-small chests stood about the floor. Mat wondered if they would make Lan carry those, too.

"Of course you have to go find him, Mat Cauthon," Nynaeve said. "Do you think we would just abandon the child?" To hear her, you would have thought that was exactly what hehad intended.

Suddenly he was deluged with offers of help, not just Nynaeve and Elayne proposing to put off going to the farm, but Lan and Birgitte and Aviendha offering to join the search. Lan was stone cold about it, grim as ever, but Birgitte and Aviendha...

"My heart would break if anything happened to that boy," Birgitte said, and Aviendha added, just as warmly, "I have always said you do not care for him properly."

Mat ground his teeth. In the streets of the city, Olver might well elude eight men until he appeared back at the palace at sunset. He did keep his promises, but small chance he would give up one moment of freedom he did not have to. More eyes would mean a quicker search, especially if all of the Wise Women were brought into it. For the space of three heartbeats he hesitated. He had his own promises to keep, though he was wise enough not to put it that way.

"The Bowl is too important," he told them. "That gholamis still out there, and maybe Moghedien, and the Black Ajah for sure." The dice thundered in his head. Aviendha would not appreciate being lumped in with Nynaeve and Elayne, but he did not care right then. He addressed Lan and Birgitte. "Keep them safe until I can reach you. Keep all of them safe."

Startlingly, Aviendha said, "We will. I promise." She fingered the hilt of her knife. Apparently she did not understand she was one of those to be kept safe.

Nynaeve and Elayne did. Nynaeve’s sudden glare tried to bore a hole through his skull; he expected her to yank on her braid, but strangely, her hand only fluttered toward it before being put firmly to her side. Elayne contented herself with raising her chin, those big blue eyes frosty. No dimple here.

Lan and Birgitte understood, too.

"Nynaeve is my life," Lan said simply, putting a hand on her shoulder. The odd thing was, she suddenly looked very sad, and then just as suddenly, her jaw set as though she was preparing to walk through a stone wall and make a large hole.

Birgitte gave Elayne a fond look, but it was to Mat she spoke. "I will," she said. "Honor’s truth."

Mat tugged at his coat uncomfortably. He still was not sure how much he had told her while drunk. Light, but the woman could soak it up like dry sand. Even so, he gave the proper response for a Barashandan lord, accepting her pledge. "The honor of blood; the truth of blood." Birgitte nodded, and from the startled looks he received from Nynaeve and Elayne, she still kept his secrets close. Light, if any Aes Sedai ever found out about those memories, they might as well know he had blown the Horn as well; foxhead or no foxhead, they would stretch him out till they dug out every last why and how.