"And you kept it from me, you woolheaded sheepherder?" Min demanded. "If I'd known—!" She deftly produced a slim knife from her sleeve, then glared at it and glumly put it back. That cure would have been as hard on Rand as on Alanna.

"This was against custom," Aviendha said, half questioning. She shifted on the carpet and fingered her belt knife.

"Very much so," Elayne replied grimly. That a sister would do that to any man was disgusting. That Alanna had done it to Rand. . . ! She remembered the dark, fiery Green with her quicksilver humor and her quicksilver temper. "Alanna has more toh to him than she could repay in a lifetime! And to us. Even if she doesn't, she will wish I had just killed her after I lay hands on her!"

"After we lay hands on her," Aviendha said, nodding for emphasis.

"So." Rand peered into his wine. "You can see there's no point in this. I ... I think I'd better go back to Nynaeve, now. Are you coming, Min?" Despite what they had told him, he sounded as though he did not really believe, as if Min might abandon him now. He did not sound afraid of it, only resigned.

"There is a point," Elayne said insistently. She leaned toward him, trying by the force of her will to make him accept what she was saying. "One bond doesn't ward you against another. Sisters don't bond the same man because of custom, Rand, because they don't want to share him, not because it can't be done. And it isn't against Tower law, either." Of course, some customs were strong as law, at least in the eyes of the sisters. Nynaeve seemed to go on more every day about upholding Aes Sedai customs and dignity. When she learned of this, she would probably explode right through the roof. "Well, we do want to share you! We will share you, if you agree."

How easy it was to say that! She had been sure she could not, once. Until she came to realize that she loved Aviendha as much as she did him, just in a different way. And Min, too; another sister, even if they had not adopted one another. She would stripe Alanna from top to bottom for touching him, given the chance, but Aviendha and Min were different. They were part of her. In a way, they were her, and she them.

She softened her tone. "I am asking, Rand. We are asking. Please let us bond you."

"Min," he murmured, almost accusingly. His eyes on Min's face were rilled with despair. "You knew, didn't you? You knew if I laid eyes on them. . . ." He shook his head, unable or unwilling to go on.

"I didn't know about the bonding until they told me less than an hour ago," she said, meeting his gaze with the most gentle look Elayne had ever seen. "But I knew, I hoped, what would happen if you saw them again. Some things have to be, Rand. They have to be."

Rand stared into the winecup, moments seeming to stretch like hours, and at last set it back on the tray. "All right," he said quietly. "I can't say I do not want this, because I do. The Light burn me for it! But think of the cost. Think of the price you'll pay."

Elayne did not need to think of the price. She had known it from the beginning, had discussed it with Aviendha to make sure she understand, too. She had explained it to Min. Take what you want, and pay for it, the old saying went. None of them had to think about the price; they knew, and they were willing to pay. There was no time to waste, though. Even now, she did not put it past him to decide that price was too high. As if that were his decision to make!

Opening herself to saidar, she linked with Aviendha, sharing a smile with her. The increased awareness of one another, the more intimate sharing of emotions and physical feelings, was always a pleasure with her sister. It was very much like what they would soon share with Rand. She had worked this out carefully, studied it from every angle. What she had been able to learn of the Aiel adoption weaves had been a great help. That ceremony had been when the idea first came to her.

Carefully she wove Spirit, a flow of over a hundred threads, every thread placed just so, and laid the weave on Aviendha sitting on the floor, then did the same to Min on the table's edge. In a way, they were not two separate weaves at all. They glowed with a precise similarity, and it seemed that looking at one, she saw the other as well. These were not the weaves used in the adoption ceremony, but they used the same principles. They included; what happened to one meshed in that weave, happened to all in it. As soon as the weaves were in place, she passed the lead of the circle of two to Aviendha. The weaves already made remained, and Aviendha immediately wove identical weaves around Elayne, and around Min again, blending that one until it was indistinguishable from Elayne's before passing control back. They did that very easily now, after a great deal of practice. Four weaves, or rather, three now, yet they all seemed the same weave.

Everything was ready. Aviendha was a rock of confidence as strong as anything Elayne had ever felt from Birgitte. Min sat gripping the edge of the table, her ankles locked together; she could not see the flows, but she gave an assured grin that was only spoiled a little when she licked her lips. Elayne breathed deeply. To her eyes, they three were surrounded and connected by a tracery of Spirit that made the finest lace seem drab. Now if only it worked as she believed it would.

From each of them, she extended the weave in narrow lines toward Rand, twisting the three lines into one, changing it into the Warder bond. That, she laid on Rand as softly as if she were laying a blanket on a baby. The spiderweb of Spirit settled around him, settled into him. He did not even blink, but it was done. She let go of saidar. Done.

He stared at them, expressionless, and slowly put his fingers to his temples.

"Oh, Light, Rand, the pain," Min murmured in a hurt voice. "I never knew; I never imagined. How can you stand it? There are pains you don't even seem to know, as if you've lived with them so long they're part of you. Those herons on your hands;

you can still feel the branding. Those things on your arms hurt! And your side. Oh, Light, your side! Why aren't you crying, Rand? Why aren't you crying?"

"He is the Car'a'carn," Aviendha said, laughing, "as strong as the Three-fold Land itself!" Her face was proud—oh, so proud– but even as she laughed, tears streamed down her sun-dark cheeks. "The veins of gold. Oh, the veins of gold. You do love me, Rand."

Elayne simply stared at him, felt him in her head. The pain of wounds and hurts he really had forgotten. The tension and disbelief; the wonder. His emotions were too rigid, though, like a knot of hardened pine sap, almost stone. Yet laced through them, golden veins pulsed and glowed whenever he looked at Min, or Aviendha. Or her. He did love her. He loved all three of them. And that made her want to laugh with joy. Other women might find doubts, but she would always know the truth of his love.

"The Light send you know what you've done," he said in a low voice. "The Light send you aren't. . . ." The pine sap grew a trifle harder. He was sure they would be hurt, and was already steeling himself. "I ... I have to go, now. At least I'll know you are all well now; I won't have to worry about you." Suddenly he grinned; he might have looked almost boyish if it had reached his eyes. "Nynaeve will be frantic thinking I've slipped away without seeing her. Not that she doesn't deserve a little flustering."

"There is one more thing, Rand," Elayne said, and stopped to swallow. Light, she had thought this would be the easy part.

"I suppose Aviendha and I have to talk while we can," Min said hurriedly, springing off the table. "Somewhere we can be alone. If you'll excuse us?"