They ate something called gara, which turned out to be a rather large, poisonous lizard that tasted like chicken. They sat with a group of Aielmen sharing a small fire. One of them, the same man who had brought her to the women's tent the previous night, made a few passes at her, subtly but steadily, until Mat put his foot down – literally – on the other man's foot. Her suitor only laughed, winking at her conspiratorially.

They played a game of dice afterward and were joined by the short-haired woman who had seemed so close to Mat earlier. She was introduced as Melindhra, of the Jumai Sept – not that Neya had any clue what that was supposed to mean. After a while the woman grew obviously bored and sat closer to Mat, whispering in his ear. He quickly lost interest in the game and they both got up soon after that.

Mat turned to Neya. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked with a leer, an arm around Melindhra's waist.

She grinned back at him. "Go ahead," she said, standing up. "I have to find Moiraine anyway."

Mat scowled darkly. "Are you sure you want to go on alone? I can come with you tomorrow, if you want," he told her.

"I'm fine. Go on," she repeated, making a shooing motion at them. Mat nodded and they both walked away.

Neya started toward the tent she'd first be taken to the night before. The dice players called after her, asking her to come back. She gave them a small wave without turning around, but it only made them call louder. She chuckled softly to herself.

She made her way slowly, unhurriedly, pausing to ask directions twice after she'd gotten lost. The city was larger than she had first assumed. Finally she arrived where she wanted, only to realise that the women were inside the tent. She could hear them chatter and found that she didn't want to join them. She looked around for a place to settle to wait but movement to her right caught her eye.

A tall, hulking man was whirling around with a sword a few paces away. She approached him casually then spotted a practice blade lying nearby. Picking it up, she smoothly undercut the man's next form with one of her own. He stood frozen for a moment, obviously startled, but she gave him a small grin and shifted easily into a walking stance, stepping to his right. His shock faded as fast as it had come and he followed her, moving like a stalking leopard.

They fought for a long time, until her arms ached and sweat covered her from head to toe, despite the cold of night, but she didn't stop. It was good to be holding a sword again, although she regretted having to abandon her yatagan behind, the fancy blade Elan had given her.

The man came to a sudden halt, motioning to his left with a jerk of his head. The women had finally come out of the tent and were watching their little duel dispassionately. Moiraine and Egwene were there, as well as the grandmotherly Wise One Neya had met the previous night. She turned back to the man, pleading him with her eyes to keep on fighting, but he simply gave a small bow and murmured something in the Old Tongue. True blood of Manetheren? She frowned at him. What an odd thing to say. Manetheren had been dead for centuries, according to the history book she'd read in the first days of her captivity. Before she had time to wonder about it, however, the women rounded on her.

"Neya Cauthon, we would speak with you," the Wise One intoned.

Snorting with laughter, Neya shook her head. "Al'Kane, Wise One, not Cauthon. He's not my husband, you know," she told them.

They all frowned at her, except Egwene, who was chewing her lower lip. "But he is your brother, is he not?" Moiraine asked softly, with a brief sidelong glance in Egwene's direction. "Your name–"

"My name is what it is, Moiraine Damodred," Neya cut her off. "Deal with it. Now, I believe you wanted to see me," she went on, drawing herself up as much as she could. "Here I am."

Moiraine took a few steps in her direction. "Will you join me in my room, where we can talk privately?" she asked evenly. She was shorter than Neya. Not by much, and she made up for it in sheer presence, but it made Neya slightly uncomfortable. She had always felt more at ease around people who were taller than herself, which was everyone, usually. With a shrug, she gestured for the Aes Sedai to lead the way.

"Would you like some wine?" Moiraine asked once they were in her room.

Neya shook her head, sitting down gingerly on one of the cushions resting on the ground. Her muscles ached from her earlier skirmish. The man had shadowed them all the way to the room, never speaking, and now appeared to be guarding the door. "Just water, if you have any, thank you," she replied politely.

The Aes Sedai handed her a goblet filled with water and sat down opposite her on another cushion. "How did you come here?" she asked without preamble. "Are you or are you not Matrim's sister?"

Neya smiled wryly. "Did you drag me here so you could pelt me with questions, Aes Sedai?"

Moiraine gave her a level look. "Nobody dragged you here, girl. But yes, I do wish to ask you a few questions," she said coolly.

"And why should I give you any answers?" Neya asked calmly, taking a sip from her goblet.

Moiraine eyed her warily. "I see that Matrim has warned you against me."

Neya snorted. "Warned me? Now that has to be the understatement of the year. And Rand warned me as well," she told the other woman with a sneer. "If it's any consolation, I don't intend to answer anyone else's questions either. It's nothing personal," she went on with a shrug. "However, I am willing to answer one of your questions, if you'll answer one of mine."

Moiraine seemed to consider that for a moment. "What do you wish to know?"

"Who is he, the man who follows you around? The one I was training with earlier?" Neya asked promptly, leaning forward.

The Aes Sedai briefly arched an eyebrow in surprise; it was obviously not the question she had expected. "His name is Lan. He is my Warder," she answered carefully.

Neya waited for more, but nothing came. Bloody Aes Sedai, Mat had said earlier, more than once. "I see. What do you want to know?" she asked, spreading her hands.

"Is your name different from Matrim's because his parents adopted you?" she inquired calmly.

Neya nodded once, sharply. "Yes, it is." She certainly wasn't going to expand on the matter. "Now, if you don't mind, I think I'll be on my way," she said briskly, standing up. She winced again when her legs and back complained at the sudden movement. "Thank you for the water."

As she opened the door, Moiraine called after her. "You must at least allow me to teach you to channel, child. You are in danger until you learn proper control."

Neya ignored her. She paused outside, looking toward Lan the Warder. He was sharpening his blade. "You're not half-bad with that thing," she told him with a small grin.

He didn't glance up as he answered. "And you're surprisingly good," was all he said.

"Why did you say that, earlier? True blood of Manetheren?" she asked him curiously.

He paused for a moment, finally meeting her eyes. "You speak the Old Tongue?" he asked her in return.

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "You two were clearly made for each other," she said, making a small gesture toward Moiraine's room. "I hope we can practice again one of these days, Gaidin," she added before walking away.