Loial almost missed a step. Suddenly her skin burned and prickled as if she had rolled in stinging nettles, from the soles of her feet to her scalp. And Dain, Bornhald's son, had arrived just before Bornhald was recalled. Just one more, and then we go.
No Shienaran would knock that way, not at anyone's door, but least of all hers. Down there, in Falme. Gareth Bryne has enough gray in his hair to be your father, Captain. A slender, dark-haired girl in gray sat at a small table with her head resting on folded arms, but even before she looked up, Nynaeve knew it was Egwene.
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