Silviana nodded, her face betraying no hint of the confusion she likely felt. She hastened off and Egwene sat down in the tent.

Siuan wasn’t there—she was likely helping with Healing again. That was good. Egwene wouldn’t have wanted to attempt this with Siuan glaring at her. As it was, she worried about Gawyn. He loved Bryne like a father, and already his anxiety streamed through their bond.

She would have to approach this very delicately, and she didn’t want to start until the Hall had arrived. She couldn’t accuse Bryne, but she couldn’t ignore Mat. He was a scoundrel and a fool, but she trusted him. Light help her, but she did. She’d trust him with her life. And things had been going oddly on the battlefield.

The Sitters gathered relatively quickly. They had charge of the war effort, and they met together each evening to get reports and tactical explanations from Bryne and his commanders. Bryne didn’t seem to think it odd that they came to him now; he kept at his work.

Many of the women did give Egwene curious looks as they entered. She nodded to them, trying to convey the weight of the Amyrlin Seat.

Eventually, enough of them had arrived that Egwene decided she should begin. Time was wasting. She needed to dismiss Mat’s accusations from her mind once and for all, or she needed to act on them.

“General Bryne,” Egwene said. “Have you been well? We’ve had a difficult time finding you.”

He looked up and blinked. His eyes were red. “Mother,” he said. He nodded to the Sitters. “I feel tired, but probably no more than you. I’ve been all over the battlefield, tending to all kinds of details; you know how it is.” Gawyn hurried in. “Egwene,” he said, his face pale. “Trouble.”

“What?”

“I . . .” He took a deep breath. “General Bashere turned against Elayne. Light! He’s a Darkfriend. The battle would have been lost had the Asha’man not arrived.”

“What’s this?” Bryne asked, looking up from his maps. “Bashere, a Darkfriend?”

“Yes.”

“Impossible,” Bryne said. “He was the Lord Dragon’s companion for months. I don’t know him well, but . . . a Darkfriend? It couldn’t be.”

“It is somewhat unreasonable to assume . . .” Saerin said.

“You can speak with the Queen yourself, if you wish,” Gawyn said, standing tall. “I heard it from her own mouth.”

The tent stilled. Sitters looked to one another with worried faces. “General,” Egwene said to Bryne, “how was it that you sent two cavalry units to protect us from the Trollocs on the hills south of here, sending them into a trap and leaving the main army’s left flank exposed?”

“How was it, Mother?” Bryne asked. “It was obvious that you were about to be overrun, anyone could see that. Yes, I had them leave the left flank, but I moved the Illianer reserves into that position. When I saw that Sharan cavalry unit split off to attack Uno’s right flank, I sent the Illianers out to intercept them; it was the right thing to do. I didn’t know there would be so many Sharans!” His voice had raised to a shout, but he stopped, and his hands were trembling. “I made a mistake. I’m not perfect, Mother.”

“This was more than a mistake,” Faiselle said. “I have just returned from speaking with Uno and the other survivors of that cavalry massacre. Uno said he could smell a trap as soon as he and his men started riding toward the sisters, but that you had promised him help.”

“I told you, I sent him reinforcements, I just didn’t expect the Sharans would send such a large force. Besides, I had it all under control. I had ordered up a Seanchan cavalry legion to reinforce our troops; they were supposed to take care of those Sharans. I had them staged across the river. I just didn’t expect them to be so late!”

“Yes,” Egwene said, hardening her voice. “Those men—so many thousands of them—were crushed between the Trollocs and the Sharans, with no hope for escape. You lost them, and all for no good reason.”

“I had to bring the Aes Sedai out!” Bryne said. “They’re our most valuable resource. Pardon, Mother; but you have made that same point to me.”

“The Aes Sedai could have waited,” Saerin said. “I was there. Yes, we needed out—we were being pressed—but we held, and could have held longer.”

“You left thousands of good men to die, General Bryne. And you know the worst part? It was unnecessary. You left all those Seanchan across the ford here, the ones who were going to save the day, waiting for your order to attack. But that order never came, did it, General? You abandoned them, just like you abandoned our cavalry.”

“But I ordered them to attack; they finally went in, didn’t they? I sent a messenger. I . . . I . . .”

“No. If it wasn’t for Mat Cauthon, they would still be waiting on this side of the river, General!” Egwene turned away from him.

“Egwene,” Gawyn said, taking her arm. “What are you saying? Just because—”

Bryne raised a hand to his head. Then he sagged, as if suddenly his limbs had lost their strength. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he whispered, sounding hollow. “I keep making mistakes, Mother. They are the kind a man can recover from, and I keep telling myself that. Then I make another mistake, and there is more scrambling to fix it.”

“You’re just tired,” Gawyn said, voice pained, looking to him. “We all are.”

“No,” Bryne said softly. “No, it’s more than that. I’ve been tired before. This is like . . . my instincts are suddenly wrong. I give the orders, then afterward, I see the holes, the problems. I . . .”

“Compulsion,” Egwene said, feeling cold. “You’ve been Compelled. They’re attacking our great captains.”

Several women in the room embraced the Source.

“How would that be possible?” Gawyn protested. “Egwene, we have sisters watching the camp for signs of channeling!”

“I don’t know how it happened,” Egwene said. “Perhaps it was put in place months ago, before the battle began.” She turned to the Sitters. “I move that the Hall relieve Gareth Bryne as commander of our armies. It is your decision, Sitters.”

“Light,” Yukiri said. “We . . . Light!”

“It must be done,” Doesine said. “It is a clever move, a way to destroy our armies without us seeing the trap. We should have seen . . . The great captains should have been better protected.”

“Light!” Faiselle said. “We need to send word to Lord Mandragoran and to Thakan’dar! This could involve them, too—an attempt to bring down all four battlefronts at once in a coordinated attack.”

“I will see it done,” Saerin said, moving toward the tent flaps. “For now, I agree with Mother. Bryne must be relieved.”

One by one, the others nodded. It was not a formal vote in the Hall, but it would do. Beside the table, Gareth Bryne sat down. Poor man. He was no doubt shaken, worried.

Unexpectedly, he smiled.

“General?” Egwene asked.

“Thank you,” Bryne said, looking relaxed.

“For what?”

“I feared I was losing my mind, Mother. I kept seeing what I’d done . . . I left thousands of men to die . . . but it wasn’t me. It wasn’t me.”

“Egwene,” Gawyn said. He covered his pain well. “The army. If Bryne has been forced to lead us toward danger, we need to change our command structure immediately.”

“Bring in my commanders,” Bryne said. “I will relinquish control to them.”

“And if they have been corrupted as well?” Doesine asked.

“I agree,” Egwene said. “This smells of one of the Forsaken, perhaps Moghedien. Lord Bryne, if you were to fall in this fight, she’d know that your commanders would be next to take charge. They might have the same faulty instincts that you do.”

Doesine shook her head. “Who can we trust? Any bloody man or woman we put in command could have suffered Compulsion.”

“We may have to lead ourselves,” Faiselle said. “Getting to a man who cannot channel would be easier than a sister, who would sense channeling and notice a woman with the ability. We are more likely to be clean.”