The Silver Circuit was misnamed at first glance, but Ebou Dar liked grand names, and sometimes it seemed that the worse they fit, the better. The grimiest tavern Mat had seen in the city, smelling of very old fish, bore the name of The Queen’s Glory in Radiance, while The Golden Crown of Heaven graced a dim hole across the river in the Rahad with only a blue door to mark it, where black stains from old knife fights splotched the grimy floor. The Silver Circuit was for racing horses.
Removing his hat, he fanned himself with the broad brim, and went so far as to loosen the black silk scarf he wore to hide the scar around his neck. The morning air shimmered with heat already, yet crowds packed the two long earthen banks that flanked the course where the horses would run up and back. That was all there was to the Silver Circuit. The murmur of voices almost drowned out the cries of the gulls overhead. There was no charge to watch, so saltworkers in the white vest of their guild and gaunt-faced farmers who had fled from the Dragonsworn inland rubbed shoulders with ragged Taraboners wearing transparent veils across their thick mustaches, weavers in vests with vertical stripes, printers in horizontal stripes and dyers with hands stained to the elbow. The unrelieved black of Amadician countrymen, buttoned to the neck though the wearers seemed about to sweat to death, stood alongside Murandian village dresses with long colorful aprons so narrow they must be only for show, and even a handful of copper-skinned Domani, the men in short coats if they wore one, the women in wool or linen so thin it clung like silk. There were apprentices, and laborers from the docks and warehouses, tanners who had a small space around them in the crowd because of the smell of their work, and filthy-faced street children watched closely because they would steal whatever they could lay hand to. There was little silver among the working people, though.
All of them were above the thick hemp ropes strung on posts. Below was for those who did have silver, and gold; the well-born, the well-dressed and the well-to-do.  Haughty men in high-crowned velvet hats strutted with slender swords on their hips, their hair brushing silk coats slung across their shoulders and held by gold or silver chains between the narrow, embroidered lapels. Some of the women had hair shorter than the men and some longer, arranged in as many ways as there were women; they wore wide hats with plumes or sometimes fine netting to obscure their faces, and gowns usually cut to show bosom whether in the local style or from elsewhere. The nobles, beneath brightly colored parasols, glittered with rings and earrings, necklaces and bracelets in gold and ivory and fine gems as they stared down their noses at everyone else. Well-fed merchants and moneylenders, with just a touch of lace and perhaps one pin or a ring bearing a fat polished stone, humbly bowed or curtsied to their betters, who very likely owed them vast sums. Fortunes changed hands at the Silver Circuit, and not just in wagers. It was said lives and honor changed hands, too, below the ropes.
Replacing his hat, Mat raised his hand, and one of the bookers came—a hatchet-faced woman, with a nose like an awl—spreading bony hands as she bowed, murmuring the ritual “As my Lord wishes to wager, so shall I write truly.” The Ebou Dari accent managed to be soft despite clipping the ends off some words. “The book is open.” Like the saying, the open book embroidered on the breast of her red vest came from a time long past, when the wagers were written into a book, but he suspected he was the only one there who knew that. He remembered many things he had never seen, from times long gone to dust.
With a quick glance at the odds for the morning’s fifth race, chalked on the slate the poleman held up behind the red-vested woman, he nodded. Wind was only the third favorite, despite his victories. He turned to his companion. “Put it all on Wind, Nalesean.”
The Tairen hesitated, fingering the point of his oiled black beard. Sweat glistened on his face, yet he kept his coat with its fat, blue-striped sleeves fastened to the top and wore a square cap of blue velvet that did nothing to keep the sun off. “All of it, Mat?” He spoke softly, trying to keep the woman from hearing. The odds could change any time until you actually offered your wager. “Burn my soul, but that little piebald looks fast, and so does that pale dun gelding with the silvery mane.” They were the favorites today, new to the city and like all things new, of great expectation.
Mat did not bother to glance toward the ten horses entered in the next race that were parading at one end of the course. He had already taken a good look while putting Olver up on Wind. “All of it.  The dun is showy, but he has a bad angle to his fetlocks. He may have won some in the country, but he’ll finish last today.” Horses were one thing he knew on his own; his father had taught him, and Abell Cauthon had a sharp eye for horseflesh.
“He looks more than showy to me,” Nalesean grumbled, but he was not arguing any more.
The booker blinked as Nalesean, sighing, pulled purse after fat purse from his bulging coat pockets. At one point she opened her mouth to protest, but the Illustrious and Honored Guild of Bookers always claimed it would take any wager in any amount. They even wagered with shipowners and merchants as to whether a ship would sink or prices change; rather, the guild itself did, not individual bookers. The gold went into one of her iron-strapped chests, each carried by a pair of fellows with arms as thick as Mat’s legs. Her guards, hard-eyed and bent-nosed in leather vests that showed arms still thicker, held long brass-bound cudgels. Another of her men handed her a white token bearing a detailed blue fish—every booker had a different sigil—and she wrote the wager, the name of the horse and a symbol indicating the race on the back with a fine brush that she took from a lacquered box held by a pretty girl. Slim, with big dark eyes, the girl directed a slow smile at Mat. The hatchet-faced woman certainly did not smile. Bowing again, she slapped the girl casually and walked off whispering to her pole-man, who hastily wiped his slate with a cloth. When he held it up again, Wind was listed at the shortest odds. Rubbing her cheek surreptitiously, the girl scowled back at Mat as though the slap had been his fault.
“I hope your luck is in,” Nalesean said, holding the token carefully for the ink to dry. Bookers could be touchy about paying on a token with smeared ink, and no one was touchier than an Ebou Dari. “I know you don’t lose often, but I’ve seen it happen, burn me but I have. There’s a lass I mean to step out with at the dancing tonight. Just a seamstress . . . ” He was a lord, though not a bad fellow really, and such things seemed important to him. “ . . . but pretty enough to dry your mouth. She likes trinkets. Golden trinkets. She likes fireworks, too—I hear some Illuminators are setting up for tonight; you’ll be interested in that—but it’s trinkets make her smile. She won’t be friendly if I cannot afford to make her smile, Mat.”
“You’ll make her smile,” Mat said absently. The horses were still walking in a circle above the starting poles. Olver sat proudly on Wind’s back, broad mouth grinning to split his more-than-plain face from jug-ear to jug-ear. In Ebou Dari races, all the riders were boys; a few miles inland, they used girls. Olver was the smallest here today, the lightest, not that the leggy gray gelding needed the advantage. “You’ll make her laugh till she can’t stand up.” Nalesean gave him a frown he barely noticed. The man should know gold was one thing Mat never had to worry about. He might not always win, but close enough. His luck had nothing to do with whether Wind won anyway. Of that he was sure.
Gold did not concern him, but Olver did. There was no rule against the boys using their switches on each other instead of their mounts. In every race so far, Wind had broken to the lead and stayed there, but if Olver took any hurt, even just a bruise, Mat would never hear the end. Not from Mistress Anan, his innkeeper, not from Nynaeve or Elayne, not from Aviendha or Birgitte. The onetime Maiden of the Spear and the peculiar woman Elayne had taken as a Warder were the last he would have expected to gush with maternal feelings, yet they had already tried to move the boy out of The Wandering Woman behind his back and into the Tarasin Palace. Anywhere with so many Aes Sedai was the last place for Olver, or for anybody, but one bump and instead of telling Birgitte and Aviendha they had no right to take the boy, Setalle Anan would likely hustle him off there herself. Olver would probably cry himself to sleep if he was not allowed to race anymore, but women never understood these things. For about the thousandth time, Mat cursed Nalesean for sneaking Olver and Wind to those first races. Of course, they had to find something to fill all the idle hours on their hands, but they could have found something else. Cutting purses could have been no worse in the women’s eyes.
“Here’s the thief-catcher,” Nalesean said, stuffing the token into his coat. He did not quite sneer. “Much good he’s done so far. We’d have done better to bring another fifty soldiers instead.”
Juilin strode though the crowd purposefully, a dark, hard man using a slender bamboo staff as tall as himself for a walking stick. With a flat-topped conical red Taraboner cap on his head and a plain coat, tight to the waist then flaring to his boot tops, well-worn and plainly not the coat of someone rich, he normally would not have been allowed below the ropes, but he made out to study the horses and ostentatiously bounced a fat coin on his palm. Several of the bookers’ guards looked at him suspiciously, but the gold crown let him pass.
“Well?” Mat said sourly, tugging his hat low, once the thief-catcher reached him. “No, let me tell you. They slipped out of the palace again. No one saw them go, again. Nobody has any bloody idea where they are, again.”
Juilin tucked the coin carefully into his coat pocket. He would make no wager; he seemed to save every copper that came into his hands. “All four of them took a closed coach from the palace to a landing on the river, where they hired a boat. Thom hired another to follow and see where they’re going. Nowhere dark or unpleasant, I’d say, by their clothes. But it is true, nobles wear silk to crawl in the mud.” He grinned at Nalesean, who folded his arms and pretended to be engrossed in the horses. The grin was a mere baring of teeth. They were both Tairen, but the gap between noble and common stood wide in Tear, and neither man liked the other’s company.
“Women!” Several finely dressed specimens nearby turned to eye Mat askance from beneath bright parasols. He frowned right back, though two were pretty, and they set to laughing and chattering among themselves as though he had done something amusing. A woman would do a thing until you were sure she always would, then do something else just to fuddle you. But he had promised Rand to see Elayne safely to Caemlyn, and Nynaeve and Egwene with her. And he had promised Egwene to see the other two safe on this trip to Ebou Dar, not to mention Aviendha; that was the price of getting Elayne to Caemlyn. Not that they had told him why they needed to be here; oh, no.
“I’ll see them safe,” he muttered under his breath, “if I have to stuff them into barrels and haul them to Caemlyn in a cart.” He might be the only man in the world who could say that about Aes Sedai without looking over his shoulder, maybe even including Rand and those fellows he was gathering. He touched the foxhead medallion hanging under his shirt to make sure it was there, though he never took it off, even to bathe. It did have flaws, but a man liked to be reminded.
“Tarabon must be terrible now for a woman not used to taking care of herself,” Juilin murmured. He was watching three veiled men in tattered coats and baggy once-white trousers scramble up the bank ahead of a pair of bookmen’s guards waving their clubs. No rule said the poor could not come below the ropes, but the bookers’ guards did. The two pretty women who had eyed Mat appeared to be making a private wager on whether the Taraboners would outrun the guards.
“We’ve more than enough women right here without sense to come in out of the rain,” Mat told him. “Go back to that boat landing and wait for Thom. Tell him I need him as soon as possible.
 They had, after all, been trying to find out exactly that for over a month now, ever since coming here. With a last glance at the fleeing men, he sauntered back the way he had come, once more bouncing the coin in his hand.
Frowning, Mat peered across the racecourse. It was barely fifty paces to the crowd on the other side, and faces leaped out at him—a bent, white-haired old man with a hooked nose, a sharp-faced woman under a hat that seemed mostly plumes, a tall fellow who looked like a stork in green silk and gold braid, a nicely plump, full-mouthed young woman who appeared about to come out of her dress at the top. The longer the heat continued, the fewer and thinner garments women in Ebou Dar wore, but for once he hardly gave them any notice. Weeks had gone by since he so much as glimpsed the women who concerned him now.
 And Aviendha . . . All she needed was someone to keep her from stabbing everybody who looked at her crossways. As far as he was concerned, she could knife whoever she wanted so long as it was not Elayne.  Rand usually knew how to deal with women, but he had jumped into a bear pit letting that pair come together. It was a short road to disaster, and why ruin had not happened was beyond Mat.
For some reason his eyes drifted back to the sharp-faced woman. She was pretty, if vulpine. About Nynaeve’s age, he estimated; it was hard to tell at the distance, but he could judge women as well as he could horses. Of course, women could fool you faster than any horse. Slim. Why did she make him think of straw? What he could see of her hair beneath the plumed hat was dark. No matter.
Birgitte and Aviendha could do without his shepherding, and normally he would have said the same of Elayne and Nynaeve, however wrongheaded, conceited and downright pushy they could be. That they had been sneaking out all this time said differently, though. Wrongheadedness was the key. They were the sort who berated a man for meddling and chased him away, then berated him again for not being there when he was needed. Not that they would admit he was needed, even then, not them. Raise a hand to help and you were interfering, do nothing and you were an untrustworthy wastrel.
The fox-faced woman across the way popped into his view again. Not straw; a stable. Which made no more sense. He had had fine times in stables with many a young woman and some not so young, but she wore modestly cut blue silk with a high neck right under her chin trimmed in snowy lace, and more spilling over her hands. A lady, and he avoided noblewomen like death. Playing haughty like a harp, expecting a man always to be at their beck and call. Not Mat Cauthon. Strangely, she was fanning herself with a spray of white plumes. Where was her maid? A knife. Why should she make him think of a knife? And . . . fire? Something burning, anyway.
Shaking his head, he tried to focus on what was important. Other men’s memories, of battles and courts and lands vanished centuries ago, filled holes in his own, places where his own life suddenly went thin or was not there at all. He could remember fleeing the Two Rivers with Moiraine and Lan quite clearly for example, but almost nothing more until reaching Caemlyn, and there were gaps before and after, as well. If whole years of his own growing up lay beyond recall, why should he expect to recollect every woman he had met?  Even Birgitte sometimes tickled his memory. Well, there were four women here and now who had his brain tied in knots. They were what was important.
Nynaeve and the others were avoiding him as if he had fleas.  It all added up to one thing. They thought he would interfere with whatever they were up to, and the only reason he would do that was if they were putting themselves in danger.  If they saw danger, there was danger. Some places in this city, being a stranger or showing a coin could bring a knife in your ribs, and not even channeling would stop it if they did not see in time. And here he was, with Nalesean and a dozen good men from the Band, not to mention Thom and Juilin, who actually had rooms in the servants’ quarters of the palace, all left to twiddle their thumbs. Those thick-skulled women were going to get their throats cut yet. “Not if I can help it,” he growled.
“What?” Nalesean said. “Look. They’re lining up, Mat. The Light burn my soul, I hope you’re right. That piebald doesn’t look half-crazed to me; he looks eager.”
The horses were prancing, taking their places between tall poles stuck in the ground, with streamers tailing from the tops of them in a warm breeze, blue and green and every color, some striped. Five hundred paces down the track of hard-beaten red clay an identical number of streamered poles made another row. Each rider had to round the same-colored streamer as floated to his right at the start and then return. A booker stood at either end of the line of horses, just to the front, a round woman and a rounder man, each with a white scarf held overhead. The bookers took turns at this, and were not allowed to accept wagers on a race they started.
“Burn me,” Nalesean muttered.
“Light, man, be easy. You’ll tickle your seamstress under the chin yet.” A roar drowned the last word as the scarves came down, and the horses surged forward, even the sound of their hooves submerged in the noise of the crowd. In ten strides Wind had the lead, Olver lying close on his neck, with the silver-maned dun only a head back. The piebald trailed in the pack, where the riders’ switches already rose and fell frantically.
“I told you the dun was dangerous,” Nalesean moaned. “We shouldn’t have wagered everything.”
Mat did not bother to answer. He had another purse in his pocket and loose coins besides. He called the purse his seed; with that, with even a few of the coins in it, and a game of dice, he could repair his fortunes whatever happened this morning. Halfway down the course, Wind still held the lead, the dun clinging close a full length ahead of the next horse. The piebald was running fifth. After the turn would come the hazard; boys on trailing animals were known to slash at those who rounded the stakes ahead of them.
 The shouts and screams of the crowd faded. The woman was shaking her fan at the horses and jumping excitedly, but suddenly he saw her in pale green and a rich gray cloak, her hair caught in a frothy net of lace, skirts held up delicately as she picked her way across a stable not far from Caemlyn.
Rand still lay there moaning in the straw, even if the fever seemed gone; at least he was not shouting anymore at people who were not there. Mat eyed the woman suspiciously as she knelt beside Rand. Maybe she could help as she claimed, but Mat did not trust as he once had. What was a fine lady like this doing in a village stable? Caressing the ruby-tipped hilt of the dagger hidden by his coat, he wondered why he had ever trusted. It never paid. Never.
“ . . . weak as a day-old kitten,” she was saying as she reached beneath her cloak. “I think . . . ”
A knife appeared in her hand so suddenly, streaking for Mat’s throat, that he would have been dead if he had not been ready. Dropping flat, he seized her wrist, just pushing it away from him, the curved Shadar Logoth blade sweeping out to lie against her slim white neck. The woman froze, trying to look down at the sharp edge dimpling her skin. He wanted to slice. Especially when he saw where her own dagger had stabbed into the stable wall. Around the slim blade a black circle of char grew, and a thin gray tendril of smoke rose from wood about to burst into flame.
 Just carrying that Shadar Logoth knife had nearly killed him, eating those holes in his memories, but how could he forget a woman who tried to kill him?  A Darkfriend who had been hunting Rand and him. What chance she was in Ebou Dar when he was, at the races on the same day? Ta’veren might be the answer—he liked thinking of that about as much he did the Horn of bloody Valere—but the fact was, the Forsaken knew his name. That stable had not been the last time Darkfriends tried putting an end to Mat Cauthon.
He staggered as Nalesean suddenly began pounding his back. “Look at him, Mat! Light of heaven, look at him!”
The horses had rounded the far poles and were well on their way back. Head stretched out, mane and tail flying behind, Wind streaked down the course with Olver clinging to his back like a part of the saddle. The boy rode as if he had been born there. Four lengths behind, the piebald pounded furiously, rider working his switch in a futile effort to close. Just like that they slashed across the finish line, with the next nearest horse another three lengths back. The white-maned dun came last. The moans and mutters of losing bettors overwhelmed the shouts of winners. Losing tokens made a shower of white onto the track, and dozens of the bookers’ servants rushed out to clear them away before the next race.
“We have to find that woman, Mat. I’d not put it past her to run off without paying out so much as she owes us.” From what Mat had heard, the bookers’ guild was more than harsh the first time one of its members tried anything of the sort, and deadly the second, but they were commoners, and that was enough for Nalesean.
“She’s standing right over there in plain view.” Mat gestured without taking his eyes from the fox-faced Darkfriend. Glaring at a token, she hurled it to the ground, and even lifted her skirts to stamp on it. Plainly not a wager on Wind. Still grimacing, she began threading her way through the crowd. Mat stiffened. She was leaving. “Gather our winnings, Nalesean, then take Olver back to the inn.
“Give her a trinket next time,” Nalesean shouted after him.
Following the woman was no trouble, with that white-plumed hat for a banner bobbing through the crowd on the other side. The earthen banks gave way to a large open area where brightly lacquered coaches and sedan chairs waited under the watchful eyes of drivers and bearers. Mat’s horse Pips was one of scores being guarded by members of the Ancient and Worshipful Guild of Stablemen. There was a guild for most things in Ebou Dar, and woe to anyone who trespassed on their ground. He paused, but she walked on by the conveyances that had brought those with position or money. No maid, and now not even a chair. No one walked in this heat who had money to ride. Had my Lady come on hard times?
The Silver Circuit lay just south of the tall white-plastered city wall, and she strolled up the hundred paces or so of road to the broad pointed arch of the Moldine Gate and in. Trying to appear casual, Mat followed. The gateway was ten spans of dim tunnel, but her hat stood out among the folk passing through. People who had to walk seldom wore plumes. She seemed to know where she was going on the other side. The plumes wove through the crowds ahead of him, unhurried but always moving forward.
Ebou Dar shone white in the morning sun. White palaces with white columns and screened wrought-iron balconies cheek-by-jowl with white-plastered weavers’ shops and fishmongers and stables, great white houses with louvered shutters hiding their arched windows beside white inns with painted signs hanging in front and open markets under long roofs where live sheep and chickens, calves and geese and ducks made a barnyard din alongside their fellows already butchered and hanging. All white, stone or plaster, except here and there bands of red or blue or gold on turnip-shaped domes and pointed spires that had balconies running around them. There were squares everywhere, always with a statue larger than life on a pedestal or a splashing fountain that only emphasized the heat, always packed with people. Refugees filled the city, and merchants and traders of every sort. Never a trouble but brought profit to somebody. What Saldaea had once sent into Arad Doman now came downriver to Ebou Dar, and so did what Amadicia had traded into Tarabon. Everyone scurried, for a coin or a thousand, for a bite to eat today. The aroma that hung in the air was equal parts perfume, dust and sweat. Somehow, it all smelled desperate.
Barge-filled canals sliced through the city, crossed by dozens of bridges, some so narrow that two people would have to squeeze past one another, others large enough that shops actually lined them, hanging out over the water. On one of those, he suddenly realized that the white-plumed hat had stopped. People flowed around him as he did, too. The shops here were really just open wooden nooks, with heavy plank shutters that could be let down to close them off at night. Raised overhead now, the shutters displayed signs for the shops. The one above the plumed hat showed a golden scale and hammer, sign of the goldsmiths’ guild, though plainly not of a particularly prosperous member. Through a momentary gap in the crowd, he saw her look back, and turned hurriedly to the narrow stall to his right. On the wall at the back hung finger rings, and boards displaying stones cut in all sorts of designs.
“My Lord wishes a new signet ring?” the birdlike fellow behind the counter asked, bowing and dry-washing his hands. Skinny as a rail, he had no worry of anyone stealing his goods. Cramped into a corner on a stool sat a one-eyed fellow who might have had trouble standing upright inside the cubicle, with a long cudgel studded with nail heads propped between his massive knees. “I can cut any design, as my Lord can see, and I have try-rings for the size, of course.”
“Let me see that one.” Mat pointed at random; he needed some reason to stand here until she went on. It might be a good time to decide exactly what he was going to do.
“A fine example of the long style, my Lord, much in favor now. Gold, but I work in silver, as well. Why, I think the size is right. If my Lord would care to try it on? My Lord may wish to examine the fine detail of the carving? Does my Lord prefer gold or silver?”
With a grunt that he hoped might be taken for answer to some of that, Mat shoved the proffered ring onto the second finger of his left hand and pretended to examine the dark oval of carved stone. All he really saw was that it was as long as the joint of his finger. Head down, he studied the woman from the corner of his eye the best he could through gaps that opened in the throng. She was holding a wide, flat gold necklace up to the light.
There was a Civil Guard in Ebou Dar, but not a very efficient one, seldom to be seen on the streets. If he denounced her, it would be his word against hers, and even if he was believed, a few coins might let her walk free even on that charge. The Civil Guard was cheaper than a magistrate, but either could be bought unless someone powerful was watching, and then if enough gold lay in the offer.
A swirl in the crowd suddenly turned into a Whitecloak, conical helmet and long mail shirt gleaming like silver, snowy cloak with the flaring golden sun billowing as he strode along confident that a path would clear for him. Which it certainly did; few willingly put themselves in the way of the Children of the Light. Yet for every eye that slid away from the stone-faced man, another beamed on him approvingly. The sharp-faced woman not only looked at him openly, she smiled. A charge laid against her might or might not put her in prison, but it could be the spark to ignite a city full of tales about Darkfriends in the Tarasin Palace. Whitecloaks were good at whipping up mobs, and to them, Aes Sedai were Darkfriends. As the Child of the Light passed her, she laid down the necklace, apparently regretful, and turned to go.
“Does the style suit my Lord?”
Mat gave a start. He had forgotten the skinny man and the ring, too. “No, I don’t want—” Frowning, he tugged at the ring again. It would not budge!
“No need to pull; you might crack the stone.” Now that he was no longer a potential customer, Mat was no longer my Lord, either. Sniffing, the fellow kept a sharp eye on him lest he try to run. “I have some grease. Deryl, where’s that grease-pot?” The guard blinked and scratched his head as if wondering what a grease-pot was. The white-plumed hat was halfway to the end of the bridge already.
“I’ll take it,” Mat snapped. No time for haggling. Hauling a fistful of coins from his coat pocket, he slapped them down on the counter, mostly gold and a little silver. “Enough?”
The ringmaker’s eyes bulged. “A little too much,” he quavered uncertainly. His hands hesitated above the coins, then two fingers pushed a pair of silver pennies toward Mat.  The skinny man was hurriedly raking up the rest of the coins. Too late to try backing out of the purchase. Mat wondered by just how much he had overpaid. Stuffing the ring into his pocket, he hastened after the Darkfriend. The hat was nowhere to be seen.
Twinned statues decorated the end of the bridge, pale marble women over a span tall, each with one breast bared and a hand raised to point toward something in the sky. In Ebou Dar, a bare chest symbolized openness and honesty. Ignoring stares, he climbed up beside one of the women, steadying himself with an arm around her waist. A street ran along the canal, and two more split off at angles ahead, all full of people and carts, sedan chairs and wagons and coaches. Someone shouted in a rough voice about real women being warmer, and a number in the crowd laughed. White plumes appeared from behind a blue-lacquered coach on the left-hand fork.
Leaping down, he pushed up the street after her, ignoring the curses of those he bumped. It was an odd chase. In the mass of people, with wagons and coaches constantly getting in his way, he could not keep a clear sight of the hat from the street. Scampering up the broad marble steps of a palace, he got another glimpse, then scurried back down to shove ahead. The rim of a tall fountain gave him yet another view, then an upended barrel against a wall, and a crate that had just been unloaded from an oxcart. Once he clung to the side of a wagon until the driver threatened him with her whip. With all the climbing and looking, he did not narrow the Darkfriend’s lead very much. But then, he still had no notion what to do if he caught her. Suddenly, when he hoisted himself up onto the narrow coping along the face of one of the big houses, she was not there anymore.
Frantically he looked up and down the street. The white plumes no longer waved through the crowd. In easy sight were half a dozen houses much like the one he was clinging to; several palaces of various sizes, two inns, three taverns, a cutler’s shop with a knife and a pair of scissors on its sign, a fishmonger with a board painted in fifty kinds of fish, two rugweavers with unrolled carpets spread on tables beneath awnings, a tailor’s shop and four cloth sellers, two shops displaying lacquerware, a goldsmith, a silversmith, a livery stable . . . The list was too long. She could have gone into any of them. Or none. She might have taken a turn he had not seen.
Jumping down, he settled his hat, muttering under his breath . . . and saw her, almost at the top of the wide stairs leading to a palace nearly across from him, already half-hidden by the tall fluted columns out front. The palace was not large, with only two slim spires and a single pear-shaped dome banded in red, but Ebou Dari palaces always gave the ground floor to servants and kitchens and the like. The better rooms were high, to catch the breezes. Doormen liveried in black and yellow bowed deeply and swung the carved doors wide before she reached them. A servant inside curtsied, apparently saying something, and immediately turned to lead her deeper. She was known. He would have wagered everything on it
For a while after the doors closed, he stood there studying the palace. Not the richest in the city by far, but only a noble would dare build its like. “But who in the Pit of Doom lives there?” he muttered finally, plucking off his hat to fan himself. Not her, not when she had to walk. A few questions in the taverns along the street would tell him. And word of his queries would seep to the palace, sure as dirt soiled your hands.
Someone said, “Carridin.” It was a scrawny, white-haired fellow lounging nearby in the shade. Mat looked at him questioningly, and he grinned, showing gaps in his teeth.  Despite a bit of lace at his neck, he was the very picture of hard times. “You asked who lived there. The Chelsaine Palace is let to Jaichim Carridin.”
Mat’s hat paused. “You mean the Whitecloak ambassador?”
“Aye. And Inquisitor of the Hand of the Light.” The old man tapped a gnarled finger against the side of his beak of a nose. Both looked to have been broken several times. “Not a man to bother unless you must, and then I’d think three times.”
Unconsciously Mat hummed a bit of “Storm from the Mountains.” Not a man to bother indeed. Questioners were the nastiest of the Whitecloaks. A Whitecloak Inquisitor who had a Darkfriend come to call.
“Thank you—” Mat gave a start. The fellow was gone, swallowed up in the crowd. Strange, but he had looked familiar. Maybe another long-dead acquaintance drifting out of those old memories. Maybe . . . It hit him like an Illuminator’s nightflower exploding inside his head. A white-haired man with a hooked nose. That old man had been at the Silver Circuit, standing not far from the woman who had just gone into Carridin’s rented palace. Turning his hat in his hands, he frowned uneasily at the palace. The Mire never held a bog like this one. He could feel the dice tumbling in his head suddenly, and that was always a bad sign.


Stuart
Geiger is a postdoctoral scholar and ethnographer at
the UC-Berkeley Institute for
Data Science. He studies the infrastructures and institutions
that support the production of knowledge, focusing on topics such
as collaboration, interdisciplinarity, community governance,
newcomer socialization, and diversity and inclusion.


EvalAI
An open source platform to create, collaborate and participate in the AI Challenges. By simplifying and standardizing the process of benchmarking AI, we want to circumvent many of the factors impeding the rate of progress in AI.
Georgia TechI am a Research Scientist at Apple Machine Learning Research (MLR) group working with Alex Toshev. I received my PhD at Georgia Tech advised by Dhruv Batra in 2023. My research lies at the intersection of Computer Vision, Natural Language Processing and Embodied AI. My goal is to build multi-modal agents with 'open-world' cognition -- agents that can reason about novel scenarios, and learn new concepts incrementally in our dynamic physical world by:
Vision, Language, and Action:
Novel Object Captioning, Visual Question Answering,
Language-guided Navigation Agents,
Different Forms of Reasoning:
Common-sense reasoning using Large Language Models,
Reasoning via Elimination,
Interpretability and Robustness:
Human vs Machine Attention, Robust VQA Models, Robust Indoor Navigation Models
During my PhD, I was fortunate to intern at Google Brain (2022) with Natasha Jaques, at Google (2021) with Peter Anderson, at NVIDIA (2020) with Gal Chechik, and at Facebook AI Research (2019) with Marcus Rohrbach. I also spent two wonderful semesters at UIUC working with Alex Schwing. My PhD was partially supported by the Snap Fellowship 2019 . In my free time, I also help maintain and manage an AI challenge hosting platform called EvalAI (part of CloudCV project) which aims to make AI research more reproducible. EvalAI hosts 150+ challenges and has 300+ contributors, 2M+ annual pageviews, 1400+ forks, 4500+ solved issues and merged pull requests, 3000+ ‘stars’ on Github, and financial/equipment support from Google, NVIDIA, and Amazon. Before this, I spent a couple of years as a Research Engineer at Snap Research where I was responsible for building large-scale infrastructure for visual recognition, search and developed algorithms for low-shot instance detection.


{{ article.title }}
{{ article.locale_date }} by {{ AUTHOR }}
{{ article.summary|striptags|truncate(280) }} Read more
{% extends "base.html" %} {% block title %}I Want To Read More Blog{% endblock %} {% block description %}The I Want To Read More blog documents our journey building a SaaS product in the open. It explains how and why we did every step on the way.{% endblock %} {% block content %}
{{ article.locale_date }} by {{ AUTHOR }}
{{ article.summary|striptags|truncate(280) }} Read more


Class: Aws::CognitoIdentityProvider::Types::ListUsersRequest
| Relationships & Source Files | |
| Super Chains via Extension / Inclusion / Inheritance | |
|
Class Chain:
self,
Struct
|
|
|
Instance Chain:
self,
::Aws::Structure ,
Struct
|
|
| Inherits: |
Struct
|
| Defined in: | gems/aws-sdk-cognitoidentityprovider/lib/aws-sdk-cognitoidentityprovider/types.rb |
Overview
Represents the request to list users.
Constant Summary
Instance Attribute Summary
-
#attributes_to_get ⇒ Array<String>
rw
A JSON array of user attribute names, for example
given_name
, that you want Amazon Cognito to include in the response for each user. -
#filter ⇒ String
rw
A filter string of the form "AttributeName Filter-Type "AttributeValue"".
-
#limit ⇒ Integer
rw
Maximum number of users to be returned.
-
#pagination_token ⇒ String
rw
An identifier that was returned from the previous call to this operation, which can be used to return the next set of items in the list.
-
#user_pool_id ⇒ String
rw
The user pool ID for the user pool on which the search should be performed.
Instance Method Summary
::Aws::Structure
- Included
| #to_hash | Alias for Structure#to_h. |
Instance Attribute Details
#attributes_to_get ⇒ Array
<String
> (rw)
A JSON array of user attribute names, for example given_name
, that
you want Amazon Cognito to include in the response for each user.
When you don't provide an AttributesToGet
parameter, Amazon
Cognito returns all attributes for each user.
# File 'gems/aws-sdk-cognitoidentityprovider/lib/aws-sdk-cognitoidentityprovider/types.rb', line 6084
class ListUsersRequest < Struct.new( :user_pool_id, :attributes_to_get, :limit, :pagination_token, :filter) SENSITIVE = [] include Aws::Structure end
#filter ⇒ String
(rw)
A filter string of the form "AttributeName Filter-Type
"AttributeValue"". Quotation marks within the filter string
must be escaped using the backslash (\) character. For example,
"family_name
= \"Reddy\"".
AttributeName: The name of the attribute to search for. You can only search for one attribute at a time.
Filter-Type: For an exact match, use =, for example, "
given_name
= \"Jon\"". For a prefix ("starts with") match, use ^=, for example, "given_name
^= \"Jon\"".AttributeValue: The attribute value that must be matched for each user.
If the filter string is empty, ListUsers
returns all users in the
user pool.
You can only search for the following standard attributes:
username
(case-sensitive)email
phone_number
name
given_name
family_name
preferred_username
cognito:user_status
(called Status in the Console) (case-insensitive)status (called Enabled in the Console) (case-sensitive)
sub
Custom attributes aren't searchable.
--query
parameter of the
list-users
action in the CLI. When you use a client-side filter,
ListUsers returns a paginated list of zero or more users. You can
receive multiple pages in a row with zero results. Repeat the query
with each pagination token that is returned until you receive a null
pagination token value, and then review the combined result.
For more information about server-side and client-side filtering, see FilteringCLI output in the Command Line Interface User Guide.
For more information, see Searching for Users Using the ListUsers API and Examples of Using the ListUsers API in the Amazon Cognito Developer Guide.
# File 'gems/aws-sdk-cognitoidentityprovider/lib/aws-sdk-cognitoidentityprovider/types.rb', line 6084
class ListUsersRequest < Struct.new( :user_pool_id, :attributes_to_get, :limit, :pagination_token, :filter) SENSITIVE = [] include Aws::Structure end
#limit ⇒ Integer
(rw)
Maximum number of users to be returned.
# File 'gems/aws-sdk-cognitoidentityprovider/lib/aws-sdk-cognitoidentityprovider/types.rb', line 6084
class ListUsersRequest < Struct.new( :user_pool_id, :attributes_to_get, :limit, :pagination_token, :filter) SENSITIVE = [] include Aws::Structure end
#pagination_token ⇒ String
(rw)
An identifier that was returned from the previous call to this operation, which can be used to return the next set of items in the list.
# File 'gems/aws-sdk-cognitoidentityprovider/lib/aws-sdk-cognitoidentityprovider/types.rb', line 6084
class ListUsersRequest < Struct.new( :user_pool_id, :attributes_to_get, :limit, :pagination_token, :filter) SENSITIVE = [] include Aws::Structure end
#user_pool_id ⇒ String
(rw)
The user pool ID for the user pool on which the search should be performed.
# File 'gems/aws-sdk-cognitoidentityprovider/lib/aws-sdk-cognitoidentityprovider/types.rb', line 6084
class ListUsersRequest < Struct.new( :user_pool_id, :attributes_to_get, :limit, :pagination_token, :filter) SENSITIVE = [] include Aws::Structure end


Super Awesome Title Goes Here
Marfa pickled High Life, aesthetic hella irony butcher banh mi actually bespoke. Street art sriracha crucifix Marfa post-ironic PBR. Tilde jean shorts fixie banjo lomo Godard, four loko meh bespoke forage cardigan. Mixtape farm-to-table chillwave, authentic mustache brunch Etsy. McSweeney's mustache seitan, Thundercats before they sold out biodiesel fap Truffaut Carles pop-up Blue Bottle bicycle rights pickled. Cronut Wes Anderson Vice quinoa Helvetica, meh church-key fanny pack mixtape cornhole kale chips Echo Park VHS. Sartorial drinking vinegar ethical farm-to-table, PBR&B Tumblr organic try-hard.
Tousled keffiyeh squid, swag umami freegan literally 90's.  Dreamcatcher kogi locavore actually tousled, deep v small batch ethical mlkshk squid farm-to-table.
Next level small batch Neutra, banh mi stumptown cliche YOLO farm-to-table Vice vegan Austin 8-bit.


You will find here few recipes for the best dishes of mexican kitchen.


Interrupt Handlers¶
The Interrupt Heirarchy¶
Freedom Metal conceptualizes interrupts as a heirarchy of interrupt controllers.
This heirarchy is established by the interrupt heirarchy of the target platform
itself. Presently, the interrupt heirarchy for a given platform is best documented
by the target’s DeviceTree representation, which can be found in
bsp/<target-name>/design.dts
.
In Freedom Metal, the heirarchy is a tree. The nodes of the tree consist of
struct metal_interrupt
:
-
struct
metal_interrupt
A handle for an interrupt.
And the vertices of the tree consist of interrupt id
.
The CPU Interrupt Controller¶
The CPU interrupt controller is the top of the interrupt heirarchy. It must be initialized before any other interrupt controllers are initialized. In example:
struct metal_cpu *cpu0 = metal_get_cpu(0);
if(!cpu) {
/* Unable to get CPU handle */
}
struct metal_interrupt *cpu_int = metal_cpu_interrupt_controller(cpu0);
if(!cpu_int) {
/* Unable to get CPU interrupt handle */
}
metal_interrupt_init(cpu_int);
The CPU interrupt must be enabled for the CPU to receive any interrupts, and any enabled interrupts can be masked by disabling the CPU interrupt.
int rc = 0;
/* Enable the CPU interrupt */
rc = metal_interrupt_enable(cpu_int, 0);
if(rc != 0) {
/* Failed to enable the CPU interrupt */
}
/* Disable the CPU interrupt */
rc = metal_interrupt_disable(cpu_int, 0);
if(rc != 0) {
/* Failed to disable the CPU interrupt */
}
Interrupt Handlers¶
Interrupt handlers must conform to the following function signature:
-
typedef void (*
metal_interrupt_handler_t
)(int, void *) Function signature for interrupt callback handlers.
Therefore, an interrupt handler might look like:
void my_interrupt_handler(int id, void *priv_data) {
/* Contents of handler */
}
Registering an Interrupt Handler¶
Interrupt handlers are registered with the interrupt controller for the interrupt they are servicing. For example, if we want to register a CPU timer interrupt:
struct metal_interrupt *timer_int = metal_cpu_timer_interrupt_controller(cpu0);
if(!timer_int) {
/* Failed to get timer interrupt controller */
}
metal_interrupt_init(timer_int);
int timer_id = metal_cpu_timer_get_interrupt_id(cpu0);
int rc = metal_interrupt_register_handler(timer_int, timer_id, my_interrupt_handler, cpu0);
if(rc != 0) {
/* Failed to register interrupt handler */
}
Additional Documentation¶
Additional documentation for the interrupt handler API can be found in the CPU API reference and the Interrupt API reference.


Booom!!
SURPRISE!
Click and see
Just wait
and see what happens
Booom!!
wELCOMe tO The sHOw
Don't want to be weird, but I can appear and disappear at the click of a button.
I Hide
If You Touch Me
Booom!!


Media List
Prototypes Home
Media List
×
What to watch for:
Watch how medium-sizes screens show only 2 images per row to keep the images from being too small to see.
Notice how the images are hidden on small screens to conserve space and improve download speed.
Albany NY
New York City
Niagara Falls
Saratoga
Mobile Summit
ITS Town Hall Meeting
Developer Documentation


The Trident Text controls expose properties to enable optimized views on the Touch Keyboard, namely InputScopes. You can change the input scope to one of many built-in options, some examples below. When you change the input scope, you can make it much faster and easier for users to enter data in your application.
Here is a selection of controls with an InputType set on them.
Touching into the edit control launches the Touch Keyboard with the appropriate keyboard layout enabled.


API Reference¶
These pages feature low-level documentation of the functionality of the SDK.
When using the SDK you always start by getting a Client instance using an API Key. With this object you can connect to various services.
1 2 3 4 | import nextcode
client = nextcode.Client(api_key="xxx")
svc = client.service("query")
svc.status()
|
There is a helper method available to get a service directly without first invoking a client.
1 2 | import nextcode
svc = nextcode.get_service("query")
|
In this example we assume the api_key has already been set but it can also be passed in.


Deputy in incident involving amputee wants to clear his name
by Associated PressTUCSON, Ariz. (AP) -- An Arizona sheriff's deputy under scrutiny for restraining and wrestling a 15-year-old quadruple amputee during an encounter in a group home says he looks forward to clearing his name and returning to duty.
Pima County sheriff's Deputy Manuel Van Santen said in a statement released by his lawyer Friday that a widely viewed video showed only part of the Sept. 26 incident that occurred as he responded to a 911 call by a group home worker reporting criminal behavior involving threats and disorderly conduct.
The video released Nov. 14 by the Pima County Public Defender's Office showed part of the ensuing encounter, with Van Santen wrestling the 15-year-old on the floor and using his body to pin the teen on his side before getting up after about two minutes.
RELATED: Video of Arizona deputy restraining teen amputee spurs probe
Prosecutors decided to drop charges against the youth immediately after seeing the video, and the Sheriff's Department placed Van Santen on administrative leave pending an investigation.
The youth's attorney, Assistant Public Defender Samuel Jurgena, has said the deputy's treatment of the youth was appalling.
The Associated Press is withholding the teen's name because of his age.
Van Santen's statement said he was cooperating with the investigation.
RELATED: Charges dropped against teen amputee who was restrained by deputy in Arizona
"I was there to secure individuals who might be a threat to themselves, the staff and other residents. This was all confirmed upon my arrival and before I entered the building," he said.
The deputy's initial report from the incident said he grabbed the youth and restrained him to protect the group home manager whom the youth had allegedly threatened.
Van Santen's statement said he followed his training and directives from the Sheriff's Department. "Nothing more, nothing less."
"I can look my wife and my children in the face tonight and know that I did my job to the best of my ability. I look forward to clearing my name and returning to duty," the statement said.


Name
Email
Description of issue or comment
Type your comment here
Language:
Font:
Sample text:
{{sampleText}}


| Modifier and Type | Class and Description |
|---|---|
static class |
DbxDelta.Entry.Reader<MD extends Dumpable>
For JSON parsing.
|
| Modifier and Type | Field and Description |
|---|---|
java.lang.String |
lcPath
The lower-cased path of the entry.
|
MD |
metadata
If this is
null , it means that this path doesn't exist on
on Dropbox's copy of the file system. |
| Constructor and Description |
|---|
DbxDelta.Entry(java.lang.String lcPath,
MD metadata) |
toString, toString, toStringMultiline, toStringMultiline
public final java.lang.String lcPath
"/readme.txt"
should overwrite the entry for "/ReadMe.TXT"
.
To get the original case-preserved path, look in the metadata
field.
public final MD extends Dumpable metadata
null
, it means that this path doesn't exist on
on Dropbox's copy of the file system. To update your local state to
match, delete whatever is at that path, including any children.
If your local state doesn't have anything at this path, ignore this entry.
If this is not null
, it means that Dropbox has a file/folder
at this path with the given metadata. To update your local state to match,
add the entry to your local state as well.


This little demo was created using SFML and TGUI as a base engine and CryptoPP for the encryption algorithm. The game itself is a simple 2vs2 multiplayer shooter where the winning team is the one with the highest score. The main focus on this project was the networking part so the gameplay was simple but with enough complexity to use network replication over it. This demo includes the following features:


--- layout: archive title: Zulip Chat Archive permalink: /stream/113488-general/topic/Equation.20compiler.20error.html ---
def foo : bool → nat → unit | tt 0 := () | tt m := () | ff 0 := () | ff (m+1) := foo ff m
For some reason Lean thinks the second case is unnecessary and gives an equation compiler error. If I remove the case, however, it correctly reports that I'm missing the case foo tt (nat.succ _)
. I wonder what's going on here?
equation compiler error, equation #2 has not been used in the compilation (possible solution: delete equation)
(lawyer mode) they didn't say delete equation 2 :P
rofl
(lawyer mode) I deleted equation 1 and it worked, so the error message isn't lying
I think it was used
def foo : bool → nat → bool | tt 0 := ff | tt m := tt | ff 0 := ff | ff (m+1) := foo ff m #eval foo tt 1
Last updated: Apr 24 2020 at 19:02 UTC


CS140 -- Tests (Spring, 2014)
Material is everything up to and including the
"Lists,
Iterators, Bad Vector Usage, Deques" lecture notes.
Old Exams
See the old class web pages for examples of the kind of tests that
I give. They are below. My tests sometimes surprise people, so
be ready.
Note, however, that before 2011, CS140 was taught in C, not C++.
Here They Are.


EBD - Easton Bible DIctionary
Organ
ORGAN
"ORGAN "some kind of wind instrument, probably a kind of Pan’s pipes(
Genesis 4:21
;
Job 21:12
;
Psalm 150:4
), which consisted of seven or eight reeds of unequal length.
"ORGAN "some kind of wind instrument, probably a kind of Pan’s pipes(Genesis 4:21; Job 21:12; Psalm 150:4), which consisted of seven or eight reeds of unequal length.


The Computer Science Club is for engineers who want to experiment with their curiosity!
Find Out MoreWork on collaborative group projects to learn new skills!
Join us in our weekly meetings to get down with some code, work on some homework, or discuss new trends in the industry!
Receive weekly newsletters full of opportunities to expand your knoweldge in Computer Science!
String together a team within our club to join you in Hackathons!


Class Tuple
- java.lang.Object
-
- Tuple
-
public class Tuple extends java.lang.Object
This class represents a tuple of integers, indexed from zero.
-
-
Field Summary
Fields Modifier and Type Field Description static Tuple
IMPOSSIBLE
Singleton constant representing an impossible tuple.
-
Method Summary
All Methods Instance Methods Concrete Methods Modifier and Type Method Description Tuple
add(Tuple t)
Adds tuple t to this tuple, returning the "sum" as a new tuple.boolean
equals(java.lang.Object t)
Returns true iff this tuple is value-identical to t.int
getElement(int i)
Returns the int at position i.int
hashCode()
Returns the product of this tuple's elements as its hash code.boolean
isImpossible()
Returns whether the tuple is impossible.int
length()
Returns the length (i.e., the number of elements) of this tuple.void
setElement(int i, int j)
Sets the int at position i to value j.java.lang.String
toString()
Returns a string representation of this tuple.int
total()
Returns the total of the elements in this tuple.
-
-
-
Field Detail
-
IMPOSSIBLE
public static final Tuple IMPOSSIBLE
Singleton constant representing an impossible tuple.
-
-
Constructor Detail
-
Tuple
public Tuple(int n) throws java.lang.IllegalArgumentException
Constructs a tuple of size n with all integers initialized to zero.- Parameters:
n
- the number of elements in this tuple- Throws:
java.lang.IllegalArgumentException
- if the count argument is negative
-
Tuple
public Tuple(int[] data) throws java.lang.IllegalArgumentException
Constructs a tuple of size n from the given data, where n = data.length.- Parameters:
data
- the ints that should populate the tuple- Throws:
java.lang.IllegalArgumentException
- if the data argument is empty
-
-
Method Detail
-
isImpossible
public boolean isImpossible()
Returns whether the tuple is impossible.- Returns:
- whether the tuple is impossible
-
setElement
public void setElement(int i, int j)
Sets the int at position i to value j.- Parameters:
i
- the position of the int to setj
- the value to which the position should be set
-
getElement
public int getElement(int i)
Returns the int at position i.- Parameters:
i
- the position whose int is requested- Returns:
- the int at position i
-
length
public int length()
Returns the length (i.e., the number of elements) of this tuple.- Returns:
- the length of this tuple
-
total
public int total()
Returns the total of the elements in this tuple. For example, the three-element tuple <9,3,2> has a total of 14.- Returns:
- the total of the elements of this tuple
-
add
public Tuple add(Tuple t)
Adds tuple t to this tuple, returning the "sum" as a new tuple.- Parameters:
t
- the tuple to add to this tuple- Returns:
- the element-wise sum of this and t
-
equals
public boolean equals(java.lang.Object t)
Returns true iff this tuple is value-identical to t.- Overrides:
equals
in classjava.lang.Object
- Parameters:
t
- the object (presumably a Tuple) to check for equality- See Also:
Object.equals(java.lang.Object)
-
hashCode
public int hashCode()
Returns the product of this tuple's elements as its hash code. Note that an IMPOSSIBLE tuple returns a zero- Overrides:
hashCode
in classjava.lang.Object
- See Also:
Object.hashCode()
-
toString
public java.lang.String toString()
Returns a string representation of this tuple.- Overrides:
toString
in classjava.lang.Object
- See Also:
Object.toString()
-
-


第 4 章 Categorical data
4.1 Aesthetics: group
ggplot() +
geom_line(
mapping=aes(
x=c(1, 2, 3),
y=c(2, 3, 2),
)+
) geom_line(
mapping=aes(
x=c(1, 2, 3),
y=c(5, 2, 6)
) )
Use group
aesthetic to combine
- multiple same geom layers
into one.
ggplot() +
geom_line(
mapping=aes(
x=c(1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3),
y=c(2, 3, 2, 5, 2, 6),
group=c("m", "m", "m", "f", "f", "f"),
) )
ggplot() +
geom_line(
mapping=aes(
x=c(1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3),
y=c(2, 3, 2, 5, 2, 6),
group=c("m", "m", "m", "f", "f", "f"),
color=c("m", "m", "m", "f", "f", "f")
) )
- Any aesthetic differentiates group can replace group.
ggplot() +
geom_line(
mapping=aes(
x=c(1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3),
y=c(2, 3, 2, 5, 2, 6),
# group=c("m", "m", "m", "f", "f", "f"),
color=c("m", "m", "m", "f", "f", "f")
) )
- When there is no aesthetic mapping to differentiate groups, use
group
aesthetic mapping.
4.2 Geom overlapping
When geom layers overlap, we can use
alpha
aesthetic.
If multiple geometries are created within the one geom_
call (using grouping aesthetics), we can also set
- position: “stack,” “dodge” or “jitter” (some of them might not apply to certain
geom_
)
https://clauswilke.com/dataviz/visualizing-proportions.html#fig:health-vs-age
x is continuous, or discrete with many types
y the cumulative proportion
ggplot() +
geom_area(
mapping=aes(
x=c(1, 2, 3),
y=c(0.2, 0.3, 0.2),
)+
) geom_area(
mapping=aes(
x=c(1, 2, 3),
y=c(0.4, 0.3, 0.52) + c(0.2, 0.3, 0.2) # the additive is for accumulative purpose
), alpha=0.5
)
4.3 Position: stack
put y on top of the overlapping geom’s y
create accumulative result.
ggplot() +
geom_area(
mapping=aes(
x=c(1, 2, 3,
1, 2, 3),
y=c(0.2, 0.3, 0.2,
0.4, 0.3, 0.52),
fill=c("m", "m", "m",
"f", "f", "f")
),position="stack" #input$position
)
stack position is accumulative; no need to compute the accumulative value yourself.
the default position in
geom_area
is “stack.” Therefore, you can omit position argument.
<- data.frame(
data_cat1 x=c(1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3),
y=c(0.2, 0.3, 0.2, 0.4, 0.4, 0.52),
fill=c("m", "m", "m", "f", "f", "f")
)
ggplot(
data=data_cat1
+
) geom_area(
mapping=aes(
x=x,
y=y,
fill=fill
) )
When aesthetic mapping involves with unordered data, it will
convert the data series into factor (unless the series is already a factor);
conduct the mapping according to the level sequence of the converted factor.
$fill |>
data_cat1factor() |>
levels()
4.4 Factor
When grouping aesthetics vary the look of geometries across different groups of data, it is crucial that users declare the mapped series with proper class.
factor(data_series, levels)
parsesdata_series
into a categorical data with expressing sequence defined bylevels
.If omit
levels
the level sequence will be determined by the collateral sequence defined by your operating system.
ggplot(
data=data_cat1
+
) geom_area(
mapping=aes(
x=x,
y=y,
fill=factor(fill, levels=c("m", "f"))
) )
- Here we declare factor on-the-go.
We can also declare factor in the data frame first:
<- data_cat1
data_cat1_copy $fill |>
data_cat1_copyfactor(levels=c("m", "f")) ->
$fill data_cat1_copy
|>
is a R 4.0+ equipped operator, which makes:
f(x, ....) # equivalent to
|> f(...) x
ggplot(
data=data_cat1_copy
+
) geom_area(
mapping=aes(
x=x,
y=y,
fill=fill
) )
4.5 Proportional data
<- data.frame(
data_cat2_wide x=c(1, 2, 3),
y_a=c(0.2, 0.3, 0.2),
y_b=c(0.4, 0.4, 0.52),
y_c=c(0.4, 0.3, 0.28)
)
|>
data_cat2_wide ::pivot_longer(
tidyrcols=y_a:y_c,
names_to = "fill",
values_to= "y"
->
)
data_cat2
View(data_cat2)
ggplot(
data=data_cat2
+
) geom_area(
mapping=aes(
x=x,
y=y,
fill=fill
),color="white"
)
When x mapping series has limited cases and is discrete, a bar chart with position dodge is better.
ggplot(
data=data_cat2
+
) geom_col(
mapping=aes(
x=x,
y=y,
fill=fill
),color="white",
width=2, #input$width
size=1, #input$size
position = "dodge" #input$position
)
width
: the width of the barsize
: the size of the stroke
Pie chart:
- not good for comparing proportion across more than one dimension
library(dplyr)
%>%
data_cat2 filter(
==1
x->
) data_cat2_x1only
ggplot(
data=data_cat2_x1only
+
) geom_col(
aes(
x=x,
y=y,
fill=fill
) )
ggplot(
data=data_cat2_x1only
+
) geom_col(
aes(
x=x,
y=y,
fill=fill
)+
) coord_polar(
theta = "y"
)
adding text
ggplot(
data=data_cat2_x1only
+
) geom_col(
aes(
x=x,
y=y,
fill=fill
)+
) geom_text(
aes(
x=x,
y=y,
label=fill
),position = "stack"
)
geom_col
stack sequence is based onfill
level sequence.geom_text
stack sequence is based on observation sequence.- we can use
group
aesthetic to askgeom_text
to draw group by group.
- we can use
ggplot(
data=data_cat2_x1only
+
) geom_col(
aes(
x=x,
y=y,
fill=fill
)+
) geom_text(
aes(
x=x,
y=y,
label=fill,
group=fill
),position = "stack"
)
Change label to the proportion data y
ggplot(
data=data_cat2_x1only
+
) geom_col(
aes(
x=x,
y=y,
fill=fill
)+
) geom_text(
aes(
x=x,
y=y,
label=y,
group=fill
),position = "stack"
)
position
argument also takes position functions.When you know what type of position you want, you can use corresponding position function to finetune the position.
ggplot(
data=data_cat2_x1only
+
) geom_col(
aes(
x=x,
y=y,
fill=fill
)+
) geom_text(
aes(
x=x,
y=y,
label=y,
group=fill
),position = position_stack(vjust=0.5)
)
ggplot(
data=data_cat2_x1only
+
) geom_col(
aes(
x=x,
y=y,
fill=fill
)+
) geom_text(
aes(
x=x,
y=y,
label=y,
group=fill
),position = position_stack(vjust=0.5)
+
) coord_polar(
theta = "y"
+
) theme_void()
4.6 More on position
https://ggplot2.tidyverse.org/reference/index.html#section-position-adjustment


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Deceiver: Staring Tim Roth, Michael Rooker, Chris Penn and Renee Zellweger Directed by Jonas Pate Written by Josh and Jonas Pate
Tim Roth plays a possible suspect (and the only lead) in a murder case where the victim was killed, and the two pieces of her body were found miles apart. Needless to say, there is lots of political pressure to solve this crime and the two policemen (played by Michael Rooker and Chris Penn) don't really have much to go on. Almost the entire movie is set in the police interrogation room.
Shades of "The Usual Suspects", "Deceiver" is full of quick plot twists and lots of head games that leaves the audience guessing all the way through. The movie, however, fails to play by the rules and leaves the viewer with lots of questions and no answers. I have to admit, up until the final seconds of the movie, I was convinced that it was going to be really good, then the credits roll and I had to say, "HUH! What the #$%! was that!"
If you're going to make a "shell game" type movie, it would be helpful if, at the end of the movie, you'd lift up all the shells and show us where the ball is. As it is, all the shells were swept off the table and the movie maker expects members of the audience to sit back and say, "Ahhhh.... Ohhhhh....  Who's telling the truth? Who's lying? What was the point? There are so many little, meaningless clues along the way, that I have the distinct impression that the writer out-clevered himself and just didn't know what to put into the final scene.

Travis Cottreau
The review above was posted to the
rec.arts.movies.reviews newsgroup (de.rec.film.kritiken for German reviews).
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belongs to the author.
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23+ Where To Stream Logan Movie UK. Currently you are able to watch logan streaming on disney plus. Released march 3rd, 2017, 'logan' stars hugh jackman, dafne keen, patrick stewart, elizabeth rodriguez the r movie has a runtime of about 2 hr 17 min, and received a user score of 78 (out of 100) on tmdb, which assembled.
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Yorick Language Reference
Indexing Arrays
x(index1, index2, ..., indexN ) is a
subarray of the array x
Each index corresponds to one dimension of the x array, called
the ID in this section (the two exceptions are noted below). The
index1
varies
fastest, index2 next fastest, and so on. By default, Yorick indices
are 1-origin. An indexI may specify multiple index values, in which
case the result array will have one or more dimensions which correspond
to the ID of
x. Possibilities for the indexI are:
- scalar index
- Select one index. No result dimension will correspond to ID.
- nil ([] or omitted)
- One result dimension will match the ID.
- index range start:stop or start:stop:step
- Select start, start+step, start+2*step,
etc. One result dimension of length 1+(stop-start)/step and origin
1 will correspond to ID. The default step is 1; it may
be negative. In particular, ::-1 reverses the order of ID.
- index list
- Select an arbitrary list of indices - the index list can be any array
of integers. The dimensions of the index list will replace the ID
in the result.
- pseudo-index -
- Insert a unit length dimension in the result which was not present
in the original array x. There is no ID for a -
index.
- rubber-index .. or *
- The ID may be zero or more dimensions of x, forcing it
indexN to be the final actual index of x. A .. preserves
the actual indices, * collapses them to a single index.
- range function ifunc or ifunc:range
- Apply a range function to all or a subset of the ID; the other
dimensions are ``spectators''; multiple ifunc are performed successively
from left to right.
Index Range Functions
gives a complete list of range functions.
Function results and expressions may be indexed directly, e.g.:
f(a,b,c)(index1,index2)
or (2*x+1)(index1,index2,index3)
If the left hand operand of the = operator is an indexed array,
the right hand side is converted to the type of the left, and the specified
array elements are replaced. Do not confuse this with the redefinition
operation var =:
x(index1, index2, ..., indexN )= expr
assign to a subarray of x
|


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