Perhaps even the heads of the warrior societies. Rand al'Thor would name them. Pointing where she told him, of course. And that would be only the beginning. The wetlander notion of handing down rank to your children, and their children, for instance.

The wind swept higher for a moment, blowing south. It would cover the sound of the wetlanders' horses and wagons.

She shifted her shawl again, then suppressed a grimace. At all costs she must not appear nervous. A glance to the right stilled worry as soon as begun. Over two hundred Shaido Wise Ones clustered there, and normally at least some would be watching her like vultures, but their eyes were all on the rise. More than one adjusted her shawl uneasily or smoothed bulky skirts. Sevanna's lip curled. Sweat beaded on some of those faces. Sweat! Where was their honor that they showed nerves before every gaze?

Everyone stiffened slightly as a young Sovin Nai appeared above them, lowering his veil as he scrambled down. He came straight to her, as was proper, but to her irritation he raised his voice enough for all to hear. "One of their forward scouts escaped. He was wounded, but still on his horse."

The society leaders began to move before he finished speaking. That would never do. They would lead in the actual fighting — Sevanna had never more than held a spear in her life — but she would not let them forget for a moment who she was. "Throw every last spear against them," she ordered loudly, "before they can ready themselves." They rounded on her as one.

"Every spear?" Bendhuin demanded incredulously. "You mean except for the screens —"

Glowering, Maeric spoke right on top of him. "If we keep no reserve, we can be —"