"Maighdin, I think after all I will... " Maighdin was there immediately with an inquiring smile, but Faile trailed off at the sight of three riders ahead of her, plowing through the snow as fast as they could push their horses.

"At least there are plenty of hares, my Lady," Alliandre said, walking her tall white gelding up beside Swallow, "but I had hoped... Who are they?" Her falcon shifted on her thick glove, the bells on its jesses jingling. "Why, it looks like some of your people, my Lady."

Faile nodded grimly. She recognized them, too. Parelean, Arrela and Lacile. But what were they doing here?

The three drew rein before her, their horses panting steam. Parelean looked as wide-eyed as his dapple. Lacile, her pale face nearly hidden in the deep cowl of her cloak, was swallowing anxiously, and Arrela’s dark face seemed gray. "My Lady," Parelean said urgently, "dire news! The Prophet Masema has been meeting with the Seanchan!"

"The Seanchan!" Alliandre exclaimed. "Surely he cannot believe theywill come to the Lord Dragon!"

"It might be simpler," Berelain said, heeling her too-showy white mare up on Alliandre’s other side. Without Perrin about for her to try to impress, her dark blue riding dress was cut quite modestly, with a neck up under her chin. She still shivered. "Masema dislikes Aes Sedai, and the Seanchan keep women who can channel as prisoners."

Faile clicked her tongue in vexation. Dire news indeed, if true. And she could only hope Parelean and the others retained enough of their wits to at least pretend they had simply overheard talk by chance. Even so, she had to be sure, and quickly. Perrin might already have reached Masema. "What proof do you have, Parelean?"

"We talked to three farmers who saw a large flying creature land four nights ago, my Lady. It brought a woman who was taken to Masema and remained with him for three hours."

"We were able to trace her all the way to where Masema stays in Abila," Lacile added.

"The three men all thought the creature was Shadowspawn," Arrela put in, "but they seemed fairly reliable." For her to say any man not of Cha Failewas fairly reliable was the same as anyone else saying they thought he was honest as a bell.

"I think I must ride into Abila," Faile said, gathering Swallow’s reins. "Alliandre, take Maighdin and Berelain with you." Any other time, the tightening of Berelain’s lips over that would have been amusing. "Parelean, Arrela and Lacile will accompany me – " A man screamed, and everyone jerked.

Fifty paces away, one of Alliandre’s green-coated soldiers was toppling from his saddle, and a moment later, a Winged Guard fell with an arrow standing out from his throat. Aiel appeared among the trees, veiled and wielding bows as they ran. More soldiers fell. Bain and Chiad were on their feet, dark veils hiding their faces to the eyes; their spears were thrust through the straps of the bow cases on their back, and they worked their bows smoothly, but they cast glances toward Faile, too. There were Aiel all around, hundreds it seemed, a great noose closing in. Mounted soldiers lowered lances, pulling back in their own circle around Faile and the others, but gaps appeared immediately as Aiel arrows struck home.

"Someone must get this news of Masema to Lord Perrin," Faile told Parelean and the two women. "One of you must reach him! Ride like fire!" Her sweeping gaze took in Alliandre and Maighdin. And Berelain, too. "All of you, ride like fire, or die here!" Barely waiting for their nods, she suited actions to words, and dug her heels into Swallow’s flanks, bursting through the useless ring of soldiers. "Ride!" she shouted. Someone had to get the news to Perrin. "Ride!"

Leaning low on Swallow’s neck, she urged the black mare for speed. Fleet hooves splashed snow as Swallow ran, light as her namesake. For a hundred strides, Faile thought she might break free. And then Swallow screamed and stumbled, pitching forward with the sharp snap of a breaking leg. Faile flew through air and struck hard, most of the breath driven out of her as she plunged facedown into the snow. Fighting for air, she struggled to her feet and snatched a knife from her belt. Swallow had screamed before she stumbled, before that awful crack.

A veiled Aielman loomed up before her as if out of the air, chopping at her wrist with a stiffened hand. Her knife dropped from suddenly numb fingers, and before she could try to draw another with her left hand, the man was on her.

She fought, kicking, punching, even biting, but the fellow was as wide as Perrin and a head taller. He seemed as hard as Perrin, too, for all the impression she made on him. She could have wept with frustration at the humiliating ease with which he handled her, first rooting out all of her knives and tucking them behind his belt, then using one of her own blades to cut her clothes away. Almost before she knew it, she was naked in the snow, her elbows bound together behind her back with one of her stockings, the other tied about her neck for a leash.

She had no choice except to follow him, shivering and stumbling through the snow. Her skin pebbled with the cold. Light, how she had ever thought this day anything less than icy? Light, if only someone had managed to escape with the news of Masema! To carry word of her capture to Perrin, of course, but she could escape somehow. The other was more important.

The first body she saw was Parelean, sprawled on his back with his sword in one outflung hand and blood all over his fine coat with the satin-striped sleeves. There were plenty of corpses after, Winged Guards in their red breastplates, Alliandre’s soldiers in their dark green helmets, one of the hawkers, the hooded duckhawk flapping vainly against the jesses still gripped in the dead man’s fist. She held on to hope, though.

The first other prisoners she saw, kneeling among some Aiel, men and Maidens with their veils hanging down their chests, were Bain and Chiad, each naked, unbound hands on her knees. Blood ran down across Bain’s face and matted her flame-red hair. Chiad’s left cheek was purple and swollen, and her gray eyes looked slightly glazed. They knelt there, straight-backed, impassive, and unashamed, but as the big Aielman pushed her roughly to her knees beside them, they roused themselves.

"This is not right, Shaido," Chiad mumbled angrily.

"She does not follow ji’e’toh," Bain barked. "You cannot make her gai’shain."

"The gai’shainwill be quiet," a graying Maiden said absently. Bain and Chiad gave Faile regretful looks, then settled back to their calm waiting. Huddling, trying to hide her nakedness against her knees, Faile did not know whether to weep or laugh. The two women she would have chosen to help her escape from anywhere, and neither would raise a hand to try because of ji’e’toh.

"I say again, Efalin," the man who had captured her muttered, "this is foolishness. We travel at a crawl in this... snow." He said the word awkwardly. "There are too many armed men, here. We should be moving east, not taking more gai’shainto slow us further."

"Sevanna wants more gai’shain, Rolan," the graying Maiden replied. She frowned, though, and her hard gray eyes seemed disapproving for a moment.

Shivering, Faile blinked as the names sank in. Light, but the cold was making her wits slow. Sevanna. Shaido. They were in Kinslayer’s Dagger, as far from here as was possible to be without crossing the Spine of the World! Clearly they were not, though. That was something Perrin should know, another reason for her to escape soon. There seemed little chance of that, crouching there in the snow and wondering which bits of her were going to freeze first. The Wheel was balancing her amusement over Berelain’s shivers with a vengeance. She was actually looking forward to the thick woolen robes that gai’shainwore. Her captors made no move to depart, though. There were other captives to be brought in.