Everyone else seemed to be engrossed in themselves, or in each other. Nynaeve had begun speaking to the Atha’an Miere, both hands tight on her braid and her face almost as dark as theirs from the strain of not shouting, while they listened with contemptuous arrogance. Merilille and Sareitha still guarded the Bowl, but Careane was attempting to talk with the Kinswomen, without much success. Reanne answered, if blinking uneasily and licking her lips, but Kirstian stood trembling and silent, while Garenia’s eyes were squeezed shut. Elayne kept her voice low anyway; this was none of their business.

"You haven’t failed anyone, least of all me, Aviendha. Nothing you’ve done has evershamed me, and nothing you do ever could." Aviendha blinked at her doubtfully. "And you’re about as weak and soft as a stone." That had to be the oddest compliment she had ever paid anyone, yet Aviendha actually looked gratified. "I’ll bet the Sea Folk are scared silly of you, too." Another strange one; it made Aviendha smile, if only faintly. Elayne drew a breath. "As for Ispan... " She did not like even thinking about this. "I thought I could do what was necessary, too, but just letting my mind dwell on it makes my hands sweat and my stomach roil. I’d throw up if I even tried. So we share that."

Aviendha made the Maiden handtalk sign for "You startle me"; she had started teaching some of them to Elayne, though she said it was forbidden. Apparently, being near-sisters who were learning to be more changed that. Except that it did not, really. Aviendha seemed to think her explanation had been perfectly clear. "I did not mean I could not," she said aloud, "only that I do not know how. Likely I would have killed her, trying." Suddenly she smiled, much wider and warmer than before, and lightly touched Elayne’s cheek. "We both have weakness in us," she whispered, "but it brings no shame so long as only we two know."

"Yes," Elayne said weakly. She just did not know how! "Of course it doesn’t." This woman contained more surprises than any gleeman. "Here," she said, pressing the woman-wrapped-in-her-hair into Aviendha’s hand. "Use this in the circle." Letting the angrealgo was not easy. She had intended to use it herself, but smiles or no smiles, her friend’s spirits – her near-sister’s spirits – needed raising. Aviendha turned the small ivory figure over in her hands; Elayne could almost see her trying to decide how to give it back. "Aviendha, you know how it feels when you hold as much of saidaras you can? Think of holding almost twice as much. Reallythink of it. I want you to use it. Please?"

Perhaps Aiel did not show a great deal on their faces, but Aviendha’s green eyes widened. They had discussed angreal, considering their search, but she probably never had thought what it would be like to use one before this. "Twice as much," she murmured. "To hold all that. I can barely make myself imagine. This is a very great gift, Elayne." She touched Elayne’s cheek again, pressing her fingertips; that was the Aiel equivalent of a kiss and a hug.

Whatever Nynaeve had to say to the Sea Folk, it did not take long. She stalked away from them twitching at her skirts furiously. Approaching Elayne, she frowned equally at Aviendha and at the edge of the cliff. Usually she denied her poor head for heights, but she kept them between herself and the drop. "I have to talk to you," she muttered, guiding Elayne a little distance along the hilltop. And farther from the edge. A little way, but far enough from anyone to avoid being overheard. She drew several deep breaths before beginning, in a low voice, and she did not look at Elayne.

"I... I’ve been behaving like a fool. It’s that bloody man’s fault! When he’s not right in front of me, I can hardly think of anything else, and when he is, I can hardly think at all! You... you have to tell me when I... when I’m acting the fool. I depend on you, Elayne." Her voice stayed low, but her tone became almost a wail. "I can’t afford to lose my wits in a man, not now."

Elayne was so shocked, she could not speak for a moment. Nynaeve, admitting she had been a fool? She almost looked to see whether the sun had turned green! "It isn’t Lan’s fault, and you know it, Nynaeve," she said at last. She pushed away memories of her own recent thoughts about Rand. This was not the same. And the opportunity was a gift of the Light. Tomorrow, Nynaeve would likely try to box her ears if she said Nynaeve was being foolish. "Take hold of yourself, Nynaeve. Stop behaving like a giddy girl." Definitely not thoughts of Rand! Shehad not been mooning over him thatbadly! "You’re an Aes Sedai, and you are supposed to be leading us. Lead! And think!"

Folding her hands at her waist, Nynaeve actually hung her head. "I’ll try," she mumbled. "I will, truly. You don’t know what it’s like, though. I... I’m sorry."

Elayne nearly swallowed her tongue. Nynaeve, apologizingon top of the other? Nynaeve, abashed? Maybe she was ill.

It did not last, of course. Abruptly frowning at the angreal, Nynaeve cleared her throat. "You gave one to Aviendha, did you?" she said briskly. "Well, I suppose she’s all right. A pity we have to let the Sea Folk use one. I’ll wager they try to hang on to it! Well, just let them try! Which one is mine?"

With a sigh, Elayne handed her the bracelet-and-rings, and she stalked away, fumbling the piece of jewelry onto her left hand and calling loudly for everyone to take their places. Sometimes, it was difficult to tell Nynaeve leading from Nynaeve bullying. As long as she didlead, though.

The Bowl of the Winds sat atop its unfolded white wrappings in the center of the hilltop, a shallow, heavy disc of clear crystal two feet across, worked inside with thick swirling clouds. An ornate piece, yet simple when you thought of what it could do. What they hoped it could do. Nynaeve took up her place nearby, the angrealfinally clicking shut on her wrist. She worked her hand, looking surprised that the chains did not seem to inconvenience her; it fit as if made for her hand. The three Kinswomen were already there, Kirstian and Garenia huddling at Reanne’s back and appearing more frightened than ever, if that was possible. The Windfinders still stood arrayed behind Renaile, almost twenty paces away.

Lifting her divided skirts, Elayne met Aviendha at the Bowl and eyed the Sea Folk suspiciously. Did they intend to create a fuss? She had been afraid of exactly that from the first mention of women at the farm who might be strong enough to join the link. The Atha’an Miere were sticklers for rank enough to shame the White Tower, and Garenia’s presence meant that Renaile din Calon Blue Star, Windfinder to the Mistress of the Ships to the Atha’an Miere, would not be part of the circle. Should not be.

Renaile frowned searchingly at the women around the Bowl. She seemed to be weighing them, judging their capabilities. "Talaan din Gelyn," she barked suddenly, "take your station!" It was like a whip-crack! Even Nynaeve jumped.

Talaan bowed low, touching her heart, then ran to the Bowl. As soon as she moved, Renaile barked again. "Metarra din Junalle, take your station!" Metarra, plump yet solid, sped on Talaan’s heels. Neither apprentice was old enough to have earned what the Sea Folk called a "salt name."

Once begun, Renaile rattled off names quickly, sending Rainyn and two other Windfinders, all of whom moved quickly, yet not so fast as the apprentices. By the number of their medallions, Naime and Rysael were higher in rank than Rainyn, dignified women with a quiet air of command, but markedly weaker. Then Renaile paused, only for a heartbeat, yet in that rapid listing it stood out. "Tebreille din Gelyn South Wind, take your station! Caire din Gelyn Running Wave, assume the command!"

Elayne felt a moment of relief that Renaile had not named herself, but it lasted about as long as Renaile’s pause had. Tereille and Caire exchanged one look, Tebreille grim and Caire smug, before moving to the Bowl. Eight earrings and a multitude of overlapping medallions marked each Windfinder to a Clan Wavemistress. Only Renaile stood above them; only Dorile among the Sea Folk on the hilltop was their equal. In brocaded yellow silks, Caire was slightly the taller, Tebreille in brocaded green somewhat sterner of face, both more than handsome women, and it did not take their names to know them blood sisters. They had the same big, almost black eyes, the same straight nose, the same strong chin. Caire silently pointed to a spot at her right side; Tebreille did not speak either, nor did she hesitate in standing where her sister pointed, but her face was stone. With her, a circle of thirteen women surrounded the Bowl nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. Caire’s eyes almost sparkled. Tebreille’s were leaden. Elayne was reminded of another of Lini’s sayings. No knife is sharper than a sister’s hate.