The Myrddraal let the blackened stick fall and dusted soot from its palm. Amys would go, and she wanted her company more than learning. Even a Lord Captain was not supposed to be that familiar. Jeraal, the Light burn you, man, where are you? Jeraal! Mordeth—Fain—did not answer, and he went on shouting.
The sun barely made a rim above the rooftops, but already people and carts dotted the square. She raised an eyebrow at Nynaeve, cupped her elbow in one hand and laid a finger against her cheek. Who else would dare wear the ring? Waving her to silence, Nesta din Reas turned that same iron gaze on the man. And then there were women like Garenia, almost as poor at keeping their wishes secret, though those wishes were ten times as forbidden.
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