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Abruptly Nynaeve realized the woman against the bedpost … Amathera？ The Panarch？ … was staring straight at her。 Temaile shifted lazily as though to turn her head。
Nynaeve clamped her eyes shut。 Need。
Shift。
Letting herself sag against the narrow column； Nynaeve gulped air as if she had run twenty miles； not even wondering where she was。 Her heart pounded like a wild drum。 Speak of landing in a vipers' den。 Temaile Kinderode。 The Black sister Amico had said enjoyed causing pain； enjoyed it enough to have made one of the Black Ajah ment。 And her not able to channel a spark。 She could have ended up decorating a bedpost beside Amathera。 Light！ She shivered； seeing it。 Calm yourself； woman！ You are out of there； and even if Temaile saw you； she saw a honey…haired woman who vanished； just a Taraboner who dreamed herself into Tel'aran'rhiod for a moment。 Surely Temaile could not have been aware of her long enough to sense she could channel； even when she could not do it； the ability was there to be felt by one who shared it。 Only a moment。 Not long enough； with luck。
At least she knew Amathera's situation now。 The woman was certainly no ally of Temaile。 This method of searching had already repaid use。 But not enough； not yet。 Controlling her breathing as best she could； she looked around。
Rows of the thin white columns ran the length and breadth of a huge chamber nearly as wide as it was long； with smooth polished white floorstones below and gilded bosses on the ceiling high above。 A thick rope of white silk ran all the way around the room on waist…high posts of dark polished wood； except where it would have blocked the doorways with double…pointed arches。 Stands and open cabinets lined the walls； and the bones of peculiar beasts； with more display cases out in the floor； also roped off。 The main exhibition hall of the palace； from Egwene's description。 What she sought must be in this very chamber。 Her next step would not be as blind as the first； there were certainly no vipers； no Temaile； here。
A handsome woman suddenly appeared beside a glass case with four carved legs out in the middle of the floor。 She was no Taraboner； with her dark hair falling in waves to her shoulders； yet that was not what made Nynaeve gape。 The woman's dress seemed to be mist； sometimes silvery and opaque； sometimes gray and so thin as to show her limbs and body clearly。 From wherever she had dreamed herself here； she assuredly had a vivid imagination to conceive that！ Even the scandalous Domani dresses she had heard of surely could not equal this。
The woman smiled at the glass case； then continued on up the hall； stopping on the far side to study something Nynaeve could not make out； something dark atop a white stone stand。
Frowning； Nynaeve released her grip on a fistful of honey…colored braids。 The woman would disappear at any moment； few dreamed themselves into Tel'aran'rhiod for long。 Of course； it did not matter if the woman saw her； she was certainly no one on their list of Black sisters。 And yet she seemed somehow。。。 Nynaeve realized she had taken hold of a handful of braids again。 The woman。。。 Of its own accord her hand pulled … hard … and she stared at it in amazement； her knuckles were white； her hand quivering。 It was almost as if thinking of that woman。。。 Arm shaking； her hand tried to yank her hair out of her scalp。 Why under the Light？
The mist…clad woman still stood in front of the distant white pedestal。 Trembling spread from Nynaeve's arm into her shoulder。 She had certainly never seen the woman before。 And yet。。。 She tried to open her fingers； they only clamped down harder。 Surely she never had。 Shivering from head to toe； she hugged herself with the one arm she had free。 Surely。。。 Her teeth wanted to chatter。 The woman seemed。。。 She wanted to weep。 The woman。。。
Images burst into her head； exploding； she slumped against the column beside her as if they had physical force； her eyes bulged。 She saw it again。 The Chamber of Falling Blossoms； and that sturdily handsome woman surrounded by the glow of saidar。 Herself and Elayne； babbling like children； fighting to be first to answer； pouring out everything they knew。 How much had they told？ It was difficult to bring out details； but she dimly remembered keeping some things back。 Not because she wanted to； she would have told the woman anything； done anything she asked。 Her face heated with shame； and anger。 If she had managed to hide any scraps； it was only because she had been so … eager！ … to answer the last question asked that she passed over earlier。
It makes no sense； a small voice said in the back of her head。 If she's a Black sister I don't know about； why did she not hand us over to Liandrin？ She could have。 We'd have gone with her like lambs。
Cold rage would not let her listen。 A Black sister had made her dance like a puppet and then told her to forget。 Ordered her to forget： And she had！ Well； now the woman would find out what it was like to face her ready and forewarned！
Before she could reach for the True Source； Birgitte was suddenly beside the next column in that short white coat and wide yellow trousers gathered at the ankle。 Birgitte； or some woman dreaming she was Birgitte； with golden hair in an elaborate braid。 A warning finger pressed against her lips； she pointed at Nynaeve； then urgently toward one of the double…arched doorways behind them。 Bright blue eyes pelling； she vanished。
Nynaeve shook her head。 Whoever the woman was； she had no time。 Opening herself to saidar； she turned； filled to overflowing with the One Power and righteous wrath。 The woman clothed in mist was gone。 Gone！ Because that golden…haired fool had distracted her！ Perhaps that one was still about； waiting for her。 Wrapped in the Power； she strode through the doorway the woman had indicated。
The golden…haired woman was waiting in a brightly carpeted hallway where unlit golden lamps gave off the scent of perfumed oil。 She held a silver bow now； and a quiver of silver arrows hung at her waist。
〃Who are you？〃 Nynaeve demanded furiously。 She would give the woman a chance to explain herself。 And then teach her a lesson she would not soon forget！ 〃Are you the same fool who shot at me in the Waste； claiming she was Birgitte？ I was about to teach a member of the Black Ajah manners when you let her get away！〃
〃I am Birgitte；〃 the woman said； leaning on her bow。 〃At least； that is the name you would know。 And the lesson might have been yours； here as surely as in the Three…fold Land。 I remember the lives I have lived as if they were books well…read； the longer gone dimmer than the nearer； but I remember well when I fought at Lews Therin's side。 I will never forget Moghedien's face； any more than I will forget the face of Asmodean； the man you almost disturbed at Rhuidean。〃
Asmodean？ Moghedien？ That woman was one of the Forsaken？ A Forsaken in Tanchico。 And one at Rhuidean； in the Waste！ Egwene would certainly have said something if she knew。 No way to warn her； not for seven days。 Anger … and saidar … surged in her。 〃What are you doing here？ I know that you all vanish