Elaida's eyes popped open to the dim light of a single lamp held by Alviarin, bending over her bed with a hand on her shoulder. I am Moghedien! That eyeless gaze watched her as it might an insect; she had often seen Myrddraal look at ordinary humans that way. Thirty or so of Lord Dobraine's armsmen in bell-shaped Cairhienin helmets and as many Mayener Winged Guards in red breastplates, each sharp-eyed as if guarding leopards. She opened her mouth angrily to argue as soon as he finished, and he set himself, ready to list her promises and to the Pit of Doom with what that did to her in the eyes of Reanne and the rest.
How long do you intend to continue this farce? Nynaeve hissed at her for quiet I'm trying to listen, Elayne, she whispered. Whitecloaks or Darkfriends, either one. Many times she had made this downward journey since the day so long ago when she first came to make obeisanc Trying to appear easual, Mat followed.
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