“What was that, Nynaeve Sedai?” Naeff asked.
“Nothing.” Nynaeve was getting used to having the black-coated men around. She did not feel an uncomfortable chill when she looked at Naeff. That would be silly. Saidin had been cleansed, with her own help. No need to be uncomfortable. Even if the Asha’man did sometimes stare off into nothing, muttering to themselves. Like Naeff, who was looking into the shadow of a nearby building, hand on his sword.
“Careful, Nynaeve Sedai,” he said. “There’s another Myrddraal following us.”
“You’re…certain, Naeff?”
The tall, rectangular-faced man nodded. He was talented with weaves—particularly Air, which was unusual for a man—and he was very polite to Aes Sedai, unlike some of the other Asha’man. “Yes, I’m certain,” he said. “I don’t know why I can see them and others cannot. I must have a Talent for it. They hide in shadows, scouts of some sort, I think. They haven’t struck yet; I think they’re wary because they know I can see them.”
He’d taken tonight walks through the Stone of Tear, watching the Myrddraal that only he could see. His madness wasn’t getting worse, but old injuries wouldn’t go away. He’d always bear this scar. Poor man. At least his madness wasn’t as bad as some of the others’.
Nynaeve looked forward, marching down the wide, paved street. Buildings passed on either side, designed in Tear’s haphazard way. A large mansion, with two small towers and a bronze, gatelike door sat beside an inn of only modest size. Across from them was a row of homes with wrought iron worked into the doors and windows, but a butcher’s shop had been built right in the middle of the line.
Nynaeve and Naeff were heading for the All Summers neighborhood, which was just inside the western wall. It wasn’t the richest section of Tear, but it was definitely prosperous. Of course, in Tear, there was really only one division: commoner or noble. Many of the nobles still considered commoners completely different—and wholly inferior—creatures.
They passed some of those commoners. Men in loose breeches tied at the ankles, colorful sashes at the waist. Women in high-necked dresses, pale aprons hanging at the front. Wide straw hats with flat tops were common, or cloth caps that hung to one side. Many people carried clogs on a string over their shoulders to use once they returned to the Maule.
The people passing Nynaeve now wore worried faces, some glancing over their shoulders in fear. A bubble of evil had hit the city in that direction. Light send that not too many were hurt, for she didn’t have much time to spare. She had to return to the White Tower. It galled her to have to obey Egwene. But obey she would, and leave as soon as Rand returned. He’d gone somewhere this morning. Insufferable man. At least he’d taken Maidens with him. He’d reportedly said he needed to fetch something.
Nynaeve quickened her step, Naeff at her side, until they were nearly running. A gateway would have been faster, but it wouldn’t be safe; she couldn’t be certain they wouldn’t slice into someone. We’re growing too dependent on those gateways, she thought. Our own feet hardly seem good enough anymore.
They turned a corner into a street where a group of nervous Defenders—wearing black coats and silvery breastplates, black and gold sleeves puffing out at the sides—stood in a line. They parted for her and Naeff, and while they looked relieved that she’d arrived, they still clutched their polearms nervously.
The city beyond them looked faintly…blander than it should. Washed out. The paving stones were a lighter shade of gray, the walls of the buildings a fainter brown or gray than they should have been.
“You have men inside searching for wounded?” Nynaeve asked.
One of the Defenders shook his head. “We’ve been keeping people out, er, Lady Aes Sedai. It’s not safe.”
Most Tairens still weren’t accustomed to showing Aes Sedai respect. Until recently, channeling had been outlawed in the city.
“Send your men to search,” Nynaeve said firmly. “The Lord Dragon will be upset if your timidity costs lives. Start at the perimeter. Send for me if you find anyone I can help.”
The guardsmen moved off. Nynaeve turned to Naeff, and he nodded. She turned and took a step into the affected section of town. When her foot hit the paving stone, the stone turned to dust. Her foot sank through the shattered paving stone and hit packed earth.
She looked down, feeling a chill. She continued forward, and the stones fell to powder as she touched them. She and Naeff made their way to a nearby building, leaving a trail of powdered rock behind.
The building was an inn with nice balconies on the second floor, delicate ironwork patterns on the glass windows, and a darkly stained porch. The door was open, and as she lifted her foot up to step onto the low porch, the boards also turned to powder. She froze, looking down. Naeff stepped up beside her, then knelt down, pinching the dust between his fingers.
“It’s soft,” he said quietly, “as fine a powder as I’ve ever touched.”
The air smelled unnaturally fresh, contrasting strangely with the silent street. Nynaeve took a deep breath, then went into the inn. She had to push forward, walking with the wooden floor at her knees, the boards disintegrating as she touched them.
The inside was dim. The stand-lamps no longer burned. People sat about the room, frozen in midmotion. Most were nobles with fine clothing, the men wearing beards oiled to a point. One sat at a nearby tall table with long-legged chairs. He had a mug of morning ale halfway to his lips. He was motionless, his mouth open to accept the drink.
Naeff’s face was grim, although little seemed to surprise or unsettle Asha’man. As he took another step forward, Nynaeve lunged and grabbed his arm. He frowned at her, and she pointed down. Right in front of him—barely visible beneath the still-whole floorboards right ahead of them—the ground fell away. He’d been about to step into the inn’s cellar.
“Light,” Naeff said, stepping back. He knelt down, then tapped the board in front of him. It fell to dust, showering down into the dark cellar below.
Nynaeve wove Spirit, Air and Water to Delve the man sitting at the chair near her. Normally she would touch someone to Delve them, but she hesitated this time. It would work without touch, but would not be as effective for Healing.
Her Delving found nothing. No life, no sense that he had ever been alive. His body wasn’t even flesh. With a sinking feeling, she Delved other people in the darkened room. A serving maid carrying breakfast toward three Andoran merchants. A corpulent innkeeper, who must have had trouble navigating between the close-set tables. A woman in a rich dress sitting in the very back of the room, pri