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New Spring - Robert Jordan.txt

sharp words at best. her good riding gloves, dark blue leather with just a touch of embroidery on the back, followed, plus a small sewing kit in a carved blackwood box, a ball of stout twine, two pairs of spare stockings in case those she was wearing got wet, several kerchiefs in various sizes, and a number of other items that

come, and moiraine echoed siuan’s sigh of relief. other than that, they were left alone. when moiraine dusted her last page with fine sand and poured it into the wooden box sitting on the floor between the chairs, the hour for supper had come. a number of boychildren had been born yesterday—the birth had to come after gitara’s foretelling—but not one

no matter; the white tower was patient. the little book was snug in her belt pouch, the safest place she could think of. she had just put her small rosewood box on the bed, containing the few pieces of jewelry she had brought with her to the tower, when a knock came at the door, three firm raps. she jumped at

out in the accepted’s quarters had been brought up, and moiraine’s own brush and comb on the washstand, her blackwood lapdesk on the writing table in the study, her jewelry box on a side table in the bedchamber, already put her mark on her rooms. “we thought you’d like to be close together,” anaiya said when they finished up in moiraine’s

she would need more than four dresses before she left tar valon, and in better than wool. silk was hardly cheap, but it did wear wonderfully. from her carved jewelry box, she took her favorite piece, a kesiera. she had regretted not being able to wear that here, but even after six years her hands remembered how to weave the thin

“but i don’t want a job,” siuan protested, her belly rumbling with hunger yet again. she felt wrung out after hours in cetalia’s rooms, so full of books and stacked boxes of papers that they seemed to belong to a brown. and the woman seemed never to have heard of a chair cushion. her chairs were hard as stone! “don’t be

off by a bodyguard than chased away with the power. that would attract attention. wealthy women often rode with bodyguards, even in tar valon. the men who walked in a box around arrow as she departed the banker’s might have been called footmen, but though they wore plain gray coats, they were muscular men who looked accustomed to the swords hanging

her know that welcome is withdrawn. don’t look at me that way, man. i know enough of malkieri customs not to insult her. she has you neatly nailed into a box i know you would never choose for yourself.” brys knew less than he thought he did. however delicate the words, withdrawing the welcome would be a deadly insult. “‘even the

with his carneira.” she laughed, a smoky laugh. enjoying her power over him. “i brought your daori. bring it to me.” unwillingly, his eyes followed hers to a flat lacquered box on a small table beside the door. lifting the hinged lid took as much effort as lifting a boulder. coiled inside lay a long cord woven of hair. he could

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The Eye of the World - Robert Jordan.txt

the red roof tiles glittered in the sunlight as brightly as ever. all that was left of the peddler’s wagon, though, were blackened iron wheel-rims leaning against the charred wagon box, now on the ground. the big round hoops that had held up the canvas cover slanted crazily, each at a different angle. thom merrilin sat cross-legged on the old foundation

a good deal about the tinkers even if he had never seen any, and the camp was just what he expected. their wagons were small houses on wheels, tall wooden boxes lacquered and painted in bright colors, reds and blues and yellows and greens and some hues to which he could not put a name. the traveling people were going about

after supper they all settled in front of the fireplace, with master grinwell in his favorite chair thumbing his pipe full of tabac and mistress grinwell fussing with her sewing box and the shirts she had washed for him and mat. mat dug out thom’s colored balls and began to juggle. he never did that unless there were children. the children

aside from dislodging a few pieces of bark, her effort did little good. “if my lady pleases?” tallanvor said smugly. “my lord?” the soldiers formed around them in a hollow box that started along the slate path with tallanvor leading. gawyn and elayne walked on either side of rand, both appearing lost in unpleasant thoughts. the soldiers had sheathed their swords

whitecloaks in the city.” tallanvor and the guardsmen sheathed their swords reluctantly, ready to draw again in an instant. still rand was glad to let the soldiers form a hollow box around him and to follow tallanvor. elaida was only half attending what the queen was saying; he could feel her eyes on his back. what would have happened if morgase

it to him by the drawstrings. “good. and see that we are wakened before daybreak. the watchers will be at their least alert, then.” “we’ll leave them watching an empty box, aes sedai.” master gill grinned. rand was yawning by the time he shuffled out of the room with the rest in search of baths and beds. as he scrubbed himself,

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The Great Hunt - Robert Jordan.txt

stop them!” rand shouted. only we can’t. we can’t stop them. he looked around for a way to run, but there was only the one door. the room was a box. only one door, and so many windows. “we have to do something. something!” “it’s too late,” mat said. “don’t you understand?” his grin looked odd on a bloodless pale face,

i saw him die, saw him burn.” “and i wasn’t watching you when the dark one’s eye fell on you just now? don’t tell me you felt nothing, or i’ll box your ears; i saw your face.” “he’s dead,” rand insisted. the unseen watcher flashed through his head, and the wind on the tower top. he shivered. “strange things happen this

the wind on the tower top. he shivered. “strange things happen this close to the blight.” “you are a fool, rand al’thor.” she shook a fist at him. “i would box your ears for you if i thought it would knock any sense—” the rest of her words were swallowed as bells crashed out ringing all over the keep. he bounded

with an exasperated grunt, she caught his shoulders and made him face her. she glared up at him. “if you don’t start talking sense, rand al’thor, i swear i will box your ears.” “now you sound like nynaeve.” he laughed. as he looked down at her, though, his laughter faded. “i suppose—i suppose i’ll never see you again. i know you

for them, not for moiraine, or any of them.” he looked so lost she wanted to put his head on her shoulder, and so stubborn she really did want to box his ears. “listen to me, you great ox. i am going to be an aes sedai, and i’ll find a way to help you. i will.” “the next time you

isn’t afraid of me. how much longer can i have it, though? he shifted everything into one side of the saddlebags—spare shirts and breeches and woolen stockings, sewing kit, tinder box, tin plate and cup, a greenwood box with knife and fork and spoon, a packet of dried meat and flatbread for emergency rations, and all the other traveler’s necessaries—then stuffed

can i have it, though? he shifted everything into one side of the saddlebags—spare shirts and breeches and woolen stockings, sewing kit, tinder box, tin plate and cup, a greenwood box with knife and fork and spoon, a packet of dried meat and flatbread for emergency rations, and all the other traveler’s necessaries—then stuffed the canvas-wrapped banner into the empty pocket.

farmers might want to take it.” “unroll your blanket, loial, and throw it over the chest. keep it covered.” loial complied, and rand nodded. it was obvious there was a box or chest beneath the ogier’s striped blanket, but nothing suggested it was more than a travel chest. “my lady’s chest of clothes,” rand said with a grin and a bow.

their husbands for him.” marin pressed her face almost against the window, trying to look every way at once. “silly men don’t talk about whose name they’re putting in the box beforehand; i suppose every man who voted for cenn thought he was the only one whose wife had badgered him into it. thought one vote would make no difference. well,

gone, sold in the fishing villages on toman head, but with the silver that flowed for the fireworks had come disturbing reports. the people spoke of visits from the tall, boxy ships of the invaders. when seanchan ships anchored off the coast, the villagers who drew up to defend their homes were rent by lightning from the sky while small boats

a grimace the gleeman snatched a goblet from the tray of a startled servant. “i see someone i must speak to,” rand told the women, and squeezed out of the box they had put him in just as the last woman reached for his arm. all three stared after him as he hurried to the gleeman. thom eyed him over the

know which will reach us first.” nynaeve took a deep breath. “they are nothing to do with us.” she looked beyond the approaching soldiers, to the harbor, filled with tall, boxy seanchan ships. she could not make out spray; she prayed it was still there, and ready. “we will walk right past them.” light, i hope we can. “what if they

appeared around the cliffs skirting the harbor. riding across the water. min’s mouth fell open. silver glittered as the figure raised a bow; a streak of silver lanced to the boxy ship, a gleaming line connecting bow and ship. with a roar she could hear even at that distance, fire engulfed the foretower anew, and sailors rushed about the deck. min

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i saw him die, saw him burn.” “and i wasn’t watching you when the dark one’s eye fell on you just now? don’t tell me you felt nothing, or i’ll box your ears; i saw your face.” “he’s dead,” rand insisted. the unseen watcher flashed through his head, and the wind on the tower top. he shivered. “strange things happen this

the wind on the tower top. he shivered. “strange things happen this close to the blight.” “you are a fool, rand al’thor.” she shook a fist at him. “i would box your ears for you if i thought it would knock any sense—” the rest of her words were swallowed as bells crashed out ringing all over the keep. he bounded

with an exasperated grunt, she caught his shoulders and made him face her. she glared up at him. “if you don’t start talking sense, rand al’thor, i swear i will box your ears.” “now you sound like nynaeve.” he laughed. as he looked down at her, though, his laughter faded. “i suppose—i suppose i’ll never see you again. i know you

for them, not for moiraine, or any of them.” he looked so lost she wanted to put his head on her shoulder, and so stubborn she really did want to box his ears. “listen to me, you great ox. i am going to be an aes sedai, and i’ll find a way to help you. i will.” “the next time you

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The Dragon Reborn - Robert Jordan.txt

the amyrlin seat siuan sanche paced the length of her study, pausing now and again to glance, with a blue-eyed gaze that had made rulers stammer, at a carved nightwood box on a long table centered in the room. she hoped she would not have to use any of the carefully drawn documents within it. they had been prepared and sealed

carefully drawn documents within it. they had been prepared and sealed in secret, by her own hand, to cover a dozen possible eventualities. she had laid a warding on the box so that if any hand but hers opened it, the contents would flash to ash in an instant; very likely the box itself would burst into flame. “and burn the

eventualities. she had laid a warding on the box so that if any hand but hers opened it, the contents would flash to ash in an instant; very likely the box itself would burst into flame. “and burn the thieving fisher-bird, whoever she might be, so she never forgets it, i hope,” she muttered. for the hundredth time since being told

that, chilled egwene right to her core. what does she mean, the real bite of the thorns? light, what does she mean to do to us? fingering a carved black box on the table in front of her, the amyrlin peered at it as if looking at something beyond. “it is a question of who i can trust,” she said softly.

most part,” the amyrlin said, “you must work within the limitations of the accepted. the idea is for no one to suspect you. but. . . .”she opened the black box on her table, hesitated and looked at the other two women as if still unsure she wanted to do this, then took out a number of stiff, folded papers. sorting

to do this, then took out a number of stiff, folded papers. sorting through them carefully, she hesitated again, then chose out two. the remainder she shoved back into the box, and handed those two to egwene and nynaeve. “keep these well hidden. they are for an emergency only.” egwene unfolded her thick paper. it held writing in a neat, round

woman kept smoothing her pale blue dress over her thighs without seeming to realize what she was doing. an aes sedai egwene did not know set a plain, polished wooden box, long and narrow, on the table and opened it. from its nest in the red silk lining, the amyrlin took out a white, fluted wand the length of her forearm.

began to scream, a roar of rage that went on and on, till egwene wondered that he had breath left in him. hurriedly anaiya bent to lift a dark metal box from under the table, moving as if it were heavy. when she set it beside mat and opened the lid, only a small space was revealed within sides at least

dagger in them as carefully as if it were a poisonous snake. mat’s scream grew frantic. the ruby shone furiously, flashing blood-red. the aes sedai thrust the dagger into the box and snapped the lid down, letting out a loud sigh as it clicked shut. “a filthy thing,” she said. as soon as the dagger was hidden, mat’s shriek cut off,

child. the amyrlin has entrusted a great task to you and nynaeve. you must reach out for any tool you might be able to use.” verin dug a red wooden box from under the welter on her table. the box was large enough to hold sheets of paper, but when the aes sedai opened the lid a crack, all she pulled

you and nynaeve. you must reach out for any tool you might be able to use.” verin dug a red wooden box from under the welter on her table. the box was large enough to hold sheets of paper, but when the aes sedai opened the lid a crack, all she pulled out was a ring carved from stone, all flecks

early to help with breakfast. sleep well.” verin sat looking at the door for a time after it closed behind egwene. the owl hooted softly behind her. pulling the red box to her, she opened the lid all the way and frowned at what nearly filled the space. page upon page, covered with a precise hand, the black ink barely faded

the top of the wall seemed the best path to the stone, but not one he would be overjoyed to take. picking up his quarterstaff and a small, wire-handled tin box, he moved carefully to a brick chimney a little nearer the wall. the roll of fireworks—what had been the roll of fireworks before he worked on it back in his

and send him running. he hitched the bundle back into position without thinking about it, and crouched in the shadows of the chimney. after a moment he set the tin box down; the wire handle was beginning to grow uncomfortably warm. it felt a little safer, studying the stone from the shadows, but not much more encouraging. the city wall was

picked up his quarterstaff. “i mean to go inside, by you or through you, one way or the other.” he went over to the chimney to pick up the tin box; the wire handle was more than warm, now. “these friends of yours,” sandar said. “they are three women?” mat frowned at him, wishing there was enough light to show the

the wall and ran right up to it, a matter of pulling himself up rather than climbing. “what are you doing?” sandar whispered. “wait here for me.” with the tin box dangling from one hand by its wire handle and his quarterstaff held horizontally in front of him, mat took a deep breath and started toward the stone. he tried not

the slit was dark, now. there did not appear to be anyone watching. that was something he had tried not to think about, too. quickly he set down the tin box at his feet, balanced his quarterstaff across the wall right against the side of the stone, and unslung the bundle from his back. hurriedly he wedged it into the slit,

it seemed they should all go off at once, and a bang-and-flash like that should be enough to pull everyone who was not completely deaf. the lid of the tin box was hot enough that he had to blow on his fingers twice before he could pry it off—he wished he had whatever aludra’s trick had been, lighting that lantern so

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early to help with breakfast. sleep well.” verin sat looking at the door for a time after it closed behind egwene. the owl hooted softly behind her. pulling the red box to her, she opened the lid all the way and frowned at what nearly filled the space. page upon page, covered with a precise hand, the black ink barely faded

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The Shadow Rising - Robert Jordan.txt

be trying to stop them. in a large clearing beyond the mounted men stood a caravan of the tuatha’an, the traveling people. tinkers. nearly a hundred horse-drawn wagons, like small, boxy houses on wheels, made an eye-jarring blend of colors, red and green and yellow and every hue imaginable in combinations only a tinker’s eye could like. the people themselves wore

cleared his throat. “i am not touching the source, but maybe you had best go.” “we are not done yet,” egwene said gently. more gently than she felt—she wanted to box his ears; the idea of picking her up like that, shielding her—and elayne—but he was on the ragged edge. of what, she did not know, and she did not want

the leather scrip lying beside the door. they held all of her clothes and other things. cased knife and fork, hairbrush and comb, needles, pins, thread, thimble, scissors. a tinder box and a second knife, smaller than the one at her belt. soap and bath powder and. . . . it was ridiculous to go over the list again. egwene’s stone

chain ran from her tiny nose ring to one earring, supporting a row of tiny dangling gold medallions, and one of the chains around her neck held a pierced golden box, like ornate gold lace, that she lifted to sniff from time to time. the other woman, the taller, had only six earrings in total, and fewer medallions. the pierced box

box, like ornate gold lace, that she lifted to sniff from time to time. the other woman, the taller, had only six earrings in total, and fewer medallions. the pierced box she sniffed at was just as finely wrought gold, though. exotic, indeed. elayne winced just thinking about the nose rings. and that chain! something odd about the sterndeck itself caught

in a barn or an inn or a palace. why not on a ship? a cloud of perfume surrounded the two, a slightly musky scent, wafting from the lacy gold boxes. the tattoos on their hands were stars and seabirds surrounded by the curls and whirls of stylized waves. nynaeve inclined her head. “i am nynaeve al’meara, aes sedai of the

and sash came in, ruffling through a sheaf of papers. four gold rings decorated each ear, and three heavy gold chains hung at his neck, including one with a perfume box. a long puckered scar down his cheek, and two curved knives tucked in his sash, gave him something of a dangerous air. he was fastening a peculiar wire framework over

on the deck. one was thom merrilin, in his gleeman’s cloak, with leather-cased harp and flute on his back and a bundle lying at his feet beside a battered wooden box with a lock. the other was a lean handsome tairen in his middle years, a hard, dark man wearing a flat conical straw hat and one of those commoner’s coats

lan helped him to his feet. moiraine was already there, studying rand with apparent calm—and the slight tightness at the corners of her mouth that meant she would like to box his ears. “i did it,” rand panted, looking around. the warder was all that was holding him upright; his face was drained and drawn, like a man on his deathbed.

the swords and spears and bows, the men who had done the killing, were loading those empty wagons. with women. he watched rhea, his daughter, shoved up into a wagon box with the others, crowded together like animals by laughing killers. the last of his children. elwin dead of hunger at ten, sorelle at twenty of fever her dreams told her

hall of the servants; there was no one at the great columned entrance to question anyone, or give greeting. plenty of people darted about inside, arms filled with papers or boxes, eyes anxious, but none so much as looked at him. there was a feel of panic about them, and it grew by increments every time the ground shook. distressed, he

it, and seldom.” “i mean to change what is permitted and what isn’t,” rand told them levelly. “become used to it.” he caught egwene muttering about him needing his ears boxed, and grinned at her. “egwene can stay, too, since she asked so nicely.” she stuck her tongue out at him, then blushed when she realized what she had done. “change,”

them, strung out in a line. all showed the wear of hard travel, with spare wheels lashed everywhere. despite a coat of yellow dust, the first two looked like white-painted boxes on wheels, or little houses, complete with wooden steps at the back and a metal stove-chimney sticking through the roof. the last three, drawn by twenty-mule hitches, appeared no more

pick their feet up somewhat. chapter 41 among the tuatha’an a gathering of wagons came in sight, a little off to the south, like small houses on wheels, tall wooden boxes painted and lacquered in violent shades of red and blue and green and yellow, all standing in a large, rough circle around a few broad-limbed oak trees. the music came

then nothing in the weeks since, although rumors in the streets were already beginning to get his name right. still nothing. lifting the hinged lid of the ornately carved blackwood box where she kept her most secret papers, she rummaged inside. a small warding woven around the box ensured no hand but hers could safely open it. the first paper she

name right. still nothing. lifting the hinged lid of the ornately carved blackwood box where she kept her most secret papers, she rummaged inside. a small warding woven around the box ensured no hand but hers could safely open it. the first paper she pulled out was a report that the novice who had seen min’s arrival had vanished from the

sahra would have to be found, certainly—she had not progressed far enough in her training to be let loose—but there was no real reason to keep the report in the box. it mentioned neither min’s name nor the reason the girl had been sent to hoe cabbages, but she put it back anyway. these were days to take care that might

aside from the fact that the soldiers apparently got the worst of it, the interesting thing was that this masema knew rand al’thor’s name. that definitely went back into the box. a report that nothing had yet been found of mazrim taim. no reason for that to be in there. another on worsening conditions in arad doman and tarabon. ships vanishing

conditions in arad doman and tarabon. ships vanishing along the aryth ocean coast. rumors of tairen incursions into cairhien. she was getting into the habit of putting everything in this box; none of that needed to be kept secret. two sisters had vanished in illian, and another in caemlyn. she shivered, wondering where the forsaken were. too many of her agents

the blue. some looked nervous, but most wore grim determination, and elaida’s dark eyes held stern confidence, even triumph. “what is the meaning of this?” siuan snapped, slapping the blackwood box shut with a sharp crack. she bounced to her feet and strode around the desk. first moiraine and now this! “if this is about tairen matters, elaida, you know better

from between the pages. the white sister gave a small hiss of vexation at not finding what she sought on the table, then flipped open the lid of the blackwood box. instantly the box flared in a ball of flame. alviarin leaped back with a cry, shaking a hand where blisters were already forming. “warded,” she muttered, as close to open

pages. the white sister gave a small hiss of vexation at not finding what she sought on the table, then flipped open the lid of the blackwood box. instantly the box flared in a ball of flame. alviarin leaped back with a cry, shaking a hand where blisters were already forming. “warded,” she muttered, as close to open anger as a

were already forming. “warded,” she muttered, as close to open anger as a white ever came. “so small that i never felt it until too late.” nothing remained of the box and its contents but a heap of gray ash atop a square charred into the tabletop. elaida’s face showed no disappointment. “i promise you, siuan, that you will tell me

a maiden, even one looking the other way, was enough to have her off jeade’en in a flash. “she is soft, rand al’thor. weak.” he glanced back over at the boxlike white wagon leading the peddlers’ train in a crooked, lurching snake across the dusty, broken landscape, escorted by jindo maidens again today. isendre was up with kadere and the driver,

red and gold, with a look of not much use; the chief’s chair, aviendha called it. there was little more wood to be seen, beyond a few polished or lacquered boxes and chests, and low reading stands holding open books; the reader would need to lie on the floor. intricately woven carpets covered the floors, and bright rugs in layers; he

sounded, then more, and from dozens of mouths the cry, “up spears!” confused yells rose around the peddlers’ wagons below. rectangles of light appeared, doors flung open on the two boxlike wagons, gleaming white in the moonlight. someone was shouting angrily down there—a woman; he could not tell who. wings beat in the air above him. snarling, rand raised the fiery

with us. elayne, will you ask rendra to have a pallet made up? on the floor will do nicely.” egeanin glanced at her, but said nothing. the men were neatly boxed; either they refused flatly, and openly broke their word to do as nynaeve said, or else argued on, sounding as if they were whining. they glowered and spluttered—and acquiesced. rendra

for all. she could settle temaile—and warn the rest. it was enough to make her growl. what had moghedien been smiling at? striding out to the case, a wide glass box atop a carved table, she peered in. six mismatched figurines stood in a circle beneath the glass. a foot-tall nude woman balanced on the toes of one foot, dancing, all

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cleared his throat. “i am not touching the source, but maybe you had best go.” “we are not done yet,” egwene said gently. more gently than she felt—she wanted to box his ears; the idea of picking her up like that, shielding her—and elayne—but he was on the ragged edge. of what, she did not know, and she did not want

chain ran from her tiny nose ring to one earring, supporting a row of tiny dangling gold medallions, and one of the chains around her neck held a pierced golden box, like ornate gold lace, that she lifted to sniff from time to time. the other woman, the taller, had only six earrings in total, and fewer medallions. the pierced box

chain ran from her tiny nose ring to one earring, supporting a row of tiny dangling gold medallions, and one of the chains around her neck held a pierced golden box, like ornate gold lace, that she lifted to sniff from time to time. the other woman, the taller, had only six earrings in total, and fewer medallions. the pierced box

box, like ornate gold lace, that she lifted to sniff from time to time. the other woman, the taller, had only six earrings in total, and fewer medallions. the pierced box she sniffed at was just as finely wrought gold, though. exotic, indeed. elayne winced just thinking about the nose rings. and that chain! something odd about the sterndeck itself caught

and sash came in, ruffling through a sheaf of papers. four gold rings decorated each ear, and three heavy gold chains hung at his neck, including one with a perfume box. a long puckered scar down his cheek, and two curved knives tucked in his sash, gave him something of a dangerous air. he was fastening a peculiar wire framework over

lan helped him to his feet. moiraine was already there, studying rand with apparent calm—and the slight tightness at the corners of her mouth that meant she would like to box his ears. “i did it,” rand panted, looking around. the warder was all that was holding him upright; his face was drained and drawn, like a man on his deathbed.

it, and seldom.” “i mean to change what is permitted and what isn’t,” rand told them levelly. “become used to it.” he caught egwene muttering about him needing his ears boxed, and grinned at her. “egwene can stay, too, since she asked so nicely.” she stuck her tongue out at him, then blushed when she realized what she had done. “change,”

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The Fires of Heaven - Robert Jordan.txt

writing table ornately carved in triple-linked rings and a heavy chair that raised an inlaid ivory flame of tar valon above her dark hair like a large snowy teardrop. three boxes of altaran lacquerwork were arranged on the table, precisely equidistant from each other; one held the finest of her collection of carved miniatures. a white vase on a simple plinth

the hips. but what was the point, here? no one was going to ask her to dance in this roasting shed. digging into min’s saddlebags, leane pulled out the wooden box of paints and powders and whatnots that laras had forced on min before they set out. min had kept meaning to throw it away, but somehow she had never gotten

set out. min had kept meaning to throw it away, but somehow she had never gotten around to it. there was a small mirror inside the hinged lid of the box, and in moments leane was at work on her face with small rabbit-fur brushes. she had never shown any particular interest in the things before. now she appeared vexed that

of a better time or place.” siuan studied her shrewdly a moment more. “that isn’t the reason. not the whole reason. out with it.” hurling a small brush into the box, leane blazed up in a fury. “the whole reason? i do not know the whole reason. i only know i need something in my life to replace—what is gone. you

i always wanted to be like my mother and my aunts, daydreamed of it sometimes after i was grown.” leane’s face became pensive, and the last things went into the box more gently. “i think perhaps i’ve always felt i was masquerading as someone else, building up a mask until it became second nature. there was serious work to be done,

all appeared poised on the edge of sudden movement. it really did take him only a moment to do what he wanted, weave flows of spirit and fire into a box around the room and tie them so the weave held on its own. anyone could go in or out—except a man who could channel. for himself—or asmodean—walking through that doorway

eyes flashing blue-green fire. “i want no trouble between us, egwene, but you should not say such things.” egwene sighed. friend or not, aviendha was quite capable of trying to box her ears when offended enough. in any case, she was not sure she would have admitted it, either. aviendha’s dream had been too painful to watch for long. naked but

but you could not simply tell a friend that she was lying. egwene’s face reddened slightly. especially not when you would have to tell her how you knew. she would box my ears, then. i won’t do it again. go rummaging about in people’s dreams. not in aviendha’s dreams, anyway. it was not right to spy on a friend’s dreams. not

coin lay in the recess. the panarch had been more than generous in her desire to see their backs. the other things looked trifling by comparison; a small dark wooden box, polished but plain and uncarved, and a washleather purse lying flat and showing the impression of a disc inside. the box held the two ter’angreal they had recovered from the

things looked trifling by comparison; a small dark wooden box, polished but plain and uncarved, and a washleather purse lying flat and showing the impression of a disc inside. the box held the two ter’angreal they had recovered from the black ajah, both linked to dreams, and the purse . . . that was their prize from tanchico. one of the

get out. stop sulking. if you like, i will be the maid at the next inn.” it would probably be a disaster. nynaeve would shout at thom in public, or box someone’s ears. but anything for a little peace. “we can stop right now and change in the trees.” “we chose the gowns to fit you,” the other woman muttered after

she would do to set egwene straight, she stalked to the thickly carved table, kicking her skirts with every step. there was nothing on the table except three ornately lacquered boxes, arrayed with painful precision. remembering the sorts of traps that could be set by someone wanting to insure privacy, she made a long stick to push open the hinged lid

push open the hinged lid of the first, a gold and green thing decorated with wading herons. it was a writing case, with pens and ink and sand. the largest box, with red roses twining through golden scrolls, held twenty or more delicate carvings of ivory and turquoise, animals and people, all laid out on pale gray velvet. as she pushed

scrolls, held twenty or more delicate carvings of ivory and turquoise, animals and people, all laid out on pale gray velvet. as she pushed up the lid of the third box—golden hawks fighting among white clouds in a blue sky—she noticed that the first two were closed again. things like that happened here; everything seemed to want to remain as it

it was in the waking world, and on top of that, if you took your eyes away for a moment, details could be different when you looked back. the third box did hold documents. the stick vanished, and she gingerly lifted out the top sheet of parchment. formally signed “joline aes sedai,” it was a humble request to serve a set

rapidly. nothing there that mattered, except to joline. a scrawl at the bottom said “approved” in angular script. as she reached to put the parchment down, it faded away; the box was closed, too. sighing, she opened it again. the papers inside looked different. holding the lid, she lifted them out one by one and read quickly. or tried to read.

you had just confessed to having been an utter fool. what came out sounded much more tentative than she liked. “if you tell the wise ones about this—especially that melaine—i’ll box your ears.” something in that should have sparked egwene’s ire. it seemed odd to want to start a row—usually their quarrels were over egwene refusing to see reason, and they

the inn’s kitchens rather than what whitecloak cooks dished up in the garrison. nynaeve would almost rather have eaten on a tray again, but that little room was like a box. all of these men were intent on their food, the whitecloaks no less than the others. surely it was quite safe. cooking smells filled the air; apparently these men wanted

border, from salidar to so eban to mosra. is there any help in that, nynaeve? is there? try to pull a man’s mustache out of his face. somebody ought to box your ears, for once.” “what would ailron want with a strip along the border, thom?” elayne asked. perhaps she was interested—she seemed interested in every fool twist and turn of

would wear, of course, but they would do nicely for her. when she got back to the room, elayne had the gilded caskets on a blanket with the dark polished box holding the recovered ter’angreal and the washleather purse that held the seal. the fat purses of coin lay beside nynaeve’s scrip on the other bed. folding the blanket, elayne tied

cast-iron frying pans in a canvas bag were perfectly good, but too heavy, and the men would certainly not forget replacements for those. the sewing kit, in its neat bone-inlaid box; they would never think to buy so much as a pin. her mind was only partly on her selections, though. “you knew thom before?” she asked in what she hoped

all they were ready, nynaeve in green wool, elayne in blue, with the bundles on their backs. nynaeve carried the scrip with her herbs and the money, elayne the blanket-wrapped boxes. the deep curving brims of the bonnets hid their faces so well that nynaeve thought they could have walked right by galad without him knowing them, especially with her hair

appeared, still in that ridiculous red silk cape. there were no flowery speeches this time, no cape-swirling bows. his eyes widened when he recognized thom and juilin, narrowed at the boxlike wagon behind them. he bent to peer into the deep bonnets, and his smile was not pleasant. “so, come down in the world, have we, my lady morelin? or maybe

fat beeswax candle, lighting the wick at a nearby stand-lamp. he held the candle high as he closed the door behind him, peering around. shelves lined the walls, holding plain boxes and inlaid chests of various sizes and shapes, small figures in bone or ivory or darker material, things of metal and glass and crystal that sparkled in the candlelight. nothing

even the aes sedai came here seldom, and they allowed no one else in. what he was seeking pulled him to it. on a waist-high shelf stood a dark metal box. he opened it, revealing lead walls two inches thick, with just enough space inside for a curved dagger in a golden sheath, a large ruby set in its hilt. neither

large ruby set in its hilt. neither the gold nor the ruby, glittering dark as blood, interested him. hastily he spilled a little wax to hold the candle beside the box and snatched up the dagger. he sighed as soon as he touched it, stretched languorously. he was whole again, one with what had bound him so long ago, one with

go as far into cairhien as he could in the few hours of daylight remaining. moiraine and lan rode with the wagons; not ahead of them, or even with kadere’s boxlike little white house on wheels, but alongside the second wagon, where the canvas-covered shape of the doorframe ter’angreal made a hump above the rest of the load. some of the

the second wagon, where the canvas-covered shape of the doorframe ter’angreal made a hump above the rest of the load. some of the load was wrapped carefully or packed in boxes or barrels that kadere had brought into the waste full of his goods, and some was simply stuck in wherever it would fit, odd shapes of metal and glass, a

head. “luca did not know who to blame—one of his acrobats lamed and his bear trainer weeping on her bed—so he blamed everybody, and i thought nynaeve was going to box his ears as well. at least she did not channel; i thought she was going to once or twice, until she had latelle down on the ground.” amys and bair

have said boo to a goose until i started teaching her to stand up for herself, and clarine is married to petra. but nynaeve has made it clear that she’ll box the ears of any man who even thinks he can flirt with her, and she apologized to latelle, so i hope that may settle it.” “she apologized?” the other woman

on the tower grounds. more like a palace, by the number of pages. she let the pages fall, and they vanished before they finished scattering across the tabletop. the lacquered box was closed again. she could spend the rest of her life here, she knew; there would always be more documents in the box, and they would always be changing. the

finished scattering across the tabletop. the lacquered box was closed again. she could spend the rest of her life here, she knew; there would always be more documents in the box, and they would always be changing. the more ephemeral something was in the waking world—a letter, a piece of clothing, a bowl that might be frequently moved—the less firm its

around her forehead. “i see,” he said weakly. any boy in the two rivers who asked his father for that kind of permission was asking to have his ears soundly boxed. when he thought of the lads who had sweated themselves silly worrying that someone, anyone, would find out what they were doing with the girl they meant to marry .

ability, no? do not glare at me so, nana,” she added, dusting her hands. “i am not your enemy. here. you must try these new firesticks.” nynaeve took the wooden box from the dark-haired woman gingerly. it was a cube she could have held easily with one hand, but she used both. “i thought you called them strikers.” “maybe yes, maybe

heads, they are a new formulation. you will try them and tell me what you think?” “yes, of course. thank you.” nynaeve hurried on before the woman could press another box on her. she held the thing as if it might explode, which she was not certain it would not. aludra had everyone trying out her strikers, or firesticks, or whatever

flame if the blue-gray heads rubbed against each other or anything else rough. for herself, she would stick with flint and steel, or a coal kept properly banked in a box of sand. much safer. juilin caught her before she could set foot on the steps of the wagon she shared with elayne, his gaze going straight to her swollen eye.

enough, and if they began cooking in here, thom and juilin would never take another turn—but it made a good place to keep their valuables, the purses and the jewelry boxes. the washleather pouch holding the seal—that she had stuffed in as far as it would go and had not touched since. elayne, seated on one of the narrow beds, stuffed

most of the journeys into the world of dreams between meetings, and it was only fair to give elayne her chances to go. that was it. carefully she put the box of firesticks into one of the cabinets, next to two more. the one that had actually caught fire was long since discarded. she did not know why she was hiding

for better—so they could see that the coins were right without touching them. they dumped the money straight from the pitchers through a hole in the top of an iron-strapped box so wrapped about with chain that petra had to have put it in place before the first silver penny went in. another pair of horse handlers—thick-shouldered, broken-nosed men with the

. . . i cannot wait. i have been summoned, and when the lord dragon summons, mere mortals must obey.” some day she was going to get a chance to box rand’s head for her need to do this! “i have to find a boat going downriver.” masema stared at her for so long that she began to grow nervous. sweat

herself among the wise ones, just as egwene and elayne included themselves among aes sedai. “well,” he said lightly, “i expect sorilea at least believes i should have my ears boxed. probably bair does, too. and certainly melaine.” “among other things,” she mumbled. to his disappointment, she pushed away from him, although keeping a hold on his coat. “they believe many

a hold on his coat. “they believe many things i could wish they did not.” he grinned in spite of himself. so she did not believe he needed his ears boxed. that was a pleasant change since waking. hadnan kadere’s wagons lay a mile or so from his tent, circled in a broad depression between two hills where stone dogs kept

through fire and tame a lioness with his bare hands every time he approached you. every day an adventure, and every night . . .” his smile almost earned him boxed ears. “i will find you again, nana, and you will choose me. i know it in here.” thumping his chest dramatically, he gave his cape an even more pretentious swirl.

more than vague rumors of some sort of trouble in tar valon had reached samara; she might find a use for it, even with siuan sanche’s signature. the dark wooden box she left where it sat, next to three of the purses, as well as the rough jute bag containing the a’dam—that, she certainly had no wish to touch—and the silver

out coins; let the woman watch them dribble away and realize there might be no more for some time. when elayne realized the ring was gone, though, and the dark box still sitting there . . . elayne hefted the box and opened the lid, pursing her lips as she studied the contents, the other two ter’angreal they had carried all

realize there might be no more for some time. when elayne realized the ring was gone, though, and the dark box still sitting there . . . elayne hefted the box and opened the lid, pursing her lips as she studied the contents, the other two ter’angreal they had carried all the way from tear. a small iron disc worked on

the five powers that could be channeled in sleep. it had seemed only right to nynaeve, leaving them for elayne, since she was taking charge of the ring. closing the box with a sharp click, elayne stared at her, absolutely expressionless, then stuffed it into one of her bundles alongside the silver arrow. her silence was thunderous. elayne also made two

moments from the bustle of hitching horses and packing up. aludra came with wishes for a safe journey, wherever they were going, in her taraboner accents. and with two more boxes of her firesticks. nynaeve tucked them into her scrip with a sigh. she had made a point of leaving the others behind, and elayne had pushed them to the back

was only one bed, wider than what they had been sleeping on, yet hardly wide enough for two. tall as he was, neres might as well have lived in a box. the man surely had not given up one inch that might be stuffed with cargo. “he came to samara in the night,” elayne muttered, unburdening herself of her bundles and

and their comfort made another gap in the thorny hedges that had grown up between them. “i will prove to you that you are no coward.” taking the dark wooden box from the shelf where she had put it, elayne removed the spiral-scribed iron disc. “we will go back together.” that, nynaeve wanted to hear even less. but there was no

painting of rand remained, with a poorly mended tear in the canvas across rand’s face, as if someone had thrown something at it. they rifled the papers in the lacquered box with its golden hawks, and those on the keeper’s table in the anteroom. documents and letters changed while they looked at them, yet they did learn a little. elaida knew

long as they were on riverserpent. when they returned to their bodies on the ship, elayne was silent as she rose from the chair and replaced the disc in the box. without thinking, nynaeve got up to help her out of her dress. birgitte scrambled up the ladder as they climbed into the bed together in their shifts; she intended to

only stalked away with a firm grip on her braid. she even managed to stalk down the ladder. elayne already had the iron disc in her hand; the dark wooden box sat open on the table. nynaeve picked up the yellowish plaque carved inside with a sleeping woman; it felt slick and soft, not at all something that would scratch metal.

stay long in case you worried. i didn’t learn anything, except that shemerin is to be arrested and reduced to accepted.” she got up and tucked the ring into the box. “they can do that? demote an aes sedai?” “i don’t know. i think elaida is doing anything she wants. egwene shouldn’t wear those aiel clothes. they are not very becoming.”

only partly the heat that made him sweat. great gray curtain walls stretching into the river at either end of the row of docks made the quay seem a dim box, with him caught in it. there were nothing but broad, round-bowed grain barges docked here, and the same anchored in the river waiting their turn to unload. he had considered

had the upper hand. that could describe herself. she had put the fear of the light into moghedien. she had, and she had meant every word when she said it. boxing somebody’s ears when they needed it was one thing; threatening torture, wanting to torture, even moghedien, was something else again. and here she was trying to avoid what she knew

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eyes flashing blue-green fire. “i want no trouble between us, egwene, but you should not say such things.” egwene sighed. friend or not, aviendha was quite capable of trying to box her ears when offended enough. in any case, she was not sure she would have admitted it, either. aviendha’s dream had been too painful to watch for long. naked but

but you could not simply tell a friend that she was lying. egwene’s face reddened slightly. especially not when you would have to tell her how you knew. she would box my ears, then. i won’t do it again. go rummaging about in people’s dreams. not in aviendha’s dreams, anyway. it was not right to spy on a friend’s dreams. not

get out. stop sulking. if you like, i will be the maid at the next inn.” it would probably be a disaster. nynaeve would shout at thom in public, or box someone’s ears. but anything for a little peace. “we can stop right now and change in the trees.” “we chose the gowns to fit you,” the other woman muttered after

you had just confessed to having been an utter fool. what came out sounded much more tentative than she liked. “if you tell the wise ones about this—especially that melaine—i’ll box your ears.” something in that should have sparked egwene’s ire. it seemed odd to want to start a row—usually their quarrels were over egwene refusing to see reason, and they

border, from salidar to so eban to mosra. is there any help in that, nynaeve? is there? try to pull a man’s mustache out of his face. somebody ought to box your ears, for once.” “what would ailron want with a strip along the border, thom?” elayne asked. perhaps she was interested—she seemed interested in every fool twist and turn of

head. “luca did not know who to blame—one of his acrobats lamed and his bear trainer weeping on her bed—so he blamed everybody, and i thought nynaeve was going to box his ears as well. at least she did not channel; i thought she was going to once or twice, until she had latelle down on the ground.” amys and bair

have said boo to a goose until i started teaching her to stand up for herself, and clarine is married to petra. but nynaeve has made it clear that she’ll box the ears of any man who even thinks he can flirt with her, and she apologized to latelle, so i hope that may settle it.” “she apologized?” the other woman

around her forehead. “i see,” he said weakly. any boy in the two rivers who asked his father for that kind of permission was asking to have his ears soundly boxed. when he thought of the lads who had sweated themselves silly worrying that someone, anyone, would find out what they were doing with the girl they meant to marry .

herself among the wise ones, just as egwene and elayne included themselves among aes sedai. “well,” he said lightly, “i expect sorilea at least believes i should have my ears boxed. probably bair does, too. and certainly melaine.” “among other things,” she mumbled. to his disappointment, she pushed away from him, although keeping a hold on his coat. “they believe many

a hold on his coat. “they believe many things i could wish they did not.” he grinned in spite of himself. so she did not believe he needed his ears boxed. that was a pleasant change since waking. hadnan kadere’s wagons lay a mile or so from his tent, circled in a broad depression between two hills where stone dogs kept

through fire and tame a lioness with his bare hands every time he approached you. every day an adventure, and every night . . .” his smile almost earned him boxed ears. “i will find you again, nana, and you will choose me. i know it in here.” thumping his chest dramatically, he gave his cape an even more pretentious swirl.

through fire and tame a lioness with his bare hands every time he approached you. every day an adventure, and every night . . .” his smile almost earned him boxed ears. “i will find you again, nana, and you will choose me. i know it in here.” thumping his chest dramatically, he gave his cape an even more pretentious swirl.

had the upper hand. that could describe herself. she had put the fear of the light into moghedien. she had, and she had meant every word when she said it. boxing somebody’s ears when they needed it was one thing; threatening torture, wanting to torture, even moghedien, was something else again. and here she was trying to avoid what she knew

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Lord of Chaos - Robert Jordan.txt

all. anyway, the last thing she wanted was to heal a gentled man. he made her nervous in any case. “you bite at one another like rats in a sealed box,” marigan said. “on the evidence, your chances are not very good. perhaps you should consider . . . other options.” “hold your filthy tongue!” nynaeve glared at her. “hold it,

to say she would not share rand, not in any way, not with anyone, even a friend, and min’s viewings could go to the pit of doom; part wanted to box rand’s ears for doing this to her and min. it was all so childish she felt like hiding her head, but she could not untangle the snarl in her feelings.

ancient ruins or forgotten in an attic. if you want to count on finding something by chance, do so. i will not. unless someone knows the location of a stasis box?” there was a certain dryness to that last. the stasis boxes should have survived the breaking of the world, but that upheaval had likely as not left them on the

count on finding something by chance, do so. i will not. unless someone knows the location of a stasis box?” there was a certain dryness to that last. the stasis boxes should have survived the breaking of the world, but that upheaval had likely as not left them on the bottom of an ocean or buried beneath mountains. little remained of

hundred years studying the workings of minds far more convoluted than his. transparent, he was. however much he tried to hide it, he was frantic. he was trapped in a box of his own devising, a box he would defend to the death rather than abandon, a box in which he very probably would die. she sipped her wine, and her

minds far more convoluted than his. transparent, he was. however much he tried to hide it, he was frantic. he was trapped in a box of his own devising, a box he would defend to the death rather than abandon, a box in which he very probably would die. she sipped her wine, and her forehead furrowed slightly. possibly she had

he tried to hide it, he was frantic. he was trapped in a box of his own devising, a box he would defend to the death rather than abandon, a box in which he very probably would die. she sipped her wine, and her forehead furrowed slightly. possibly she had already achieved her end with him, though she had expected it

thronelike chair, an ivory flame of tar valon cresting the high back, stood behind a massive writing table ornately carved in triple-linked rings. the tabletop was bare except for three boxes of altaran lacquerwork, each precisely the same distance from the next. a plain white vase stood atop a severe white plinth against one wall. the vase held roses, the number

not that she had told elayne or nynaeve what orders. there were definite limits to siuan’s sharing. sheriam, beonin and myrelle gathered at elaida’s desk, opened one of the lacquered boxes, and began rifling through the papers inside. elaida kept her recent correspondence and reports there. the box, worked in golden hawks fighting among white clouds in a blue sky, would

sheriam, beonin and myrelle gathered at elaida’s desk, opened one of the lacquered boxes, and began rifling through the papers inside. elaida kept her recent correspondence and reports there. the box, worked in golden hawks fighting among white clouds in a blue sky, would suddenly shut again every time one of them let go of the lid, until they remembered to

part of the cabal that deposed her—but beonin gave her a sharp frown that sent her back to a corner grumbling to herself. beonin had returned her attention to the box and its documents before siuan had taken three steps; the other two women never noticed. myrelle went right on talking. “she says that mattin stepaneos accepts wholeheartedly, roedran is still

mattin stepaneos say that he would support. she was sure the three aes sedai would have given as much, but they just went on snatching documents out of the lacquerwork box. “the arrest warrant for moiraine, it is still in force,” beonin said, shaking her head as the sheet in her hand suddenly turned to a fat sheaf. “she does not

hand jerked as she took in what appeared to be a short note. “shemerin has run away. the accepted shemerin.” all three glanced at elayne before turning back to the box, which they had to open again. none made any comment on what sheriam had said. elayne very nearly ground her teeth. she and nynaeve had told them elaida was reducing

“we will know about tarabon soon enough ourselves,” sheriam said soothingly. “a few more weeks.” the search went on for hours. there was never any shortage of documents; the lacquered box never emptied. in fact, the stack inside sometimes increased with the removal of a paper. of course, only the shortest held steady long enough to be read in full, but

of course, only the shortest held steady long enough to be read in full, but occasionally a letter or report that had already been scanned would come out of the box again. long stretches passed in silence, yet some documents elicited comment; a few the aes sedai discussed. siuan began stringing a cat’s-cradle between her hands, apparently paying no attention at

the report. elayne could almost see her crumpling the sheet of paper in her fist, starting to rip it apart, then coldly smoothing it out and adding it to the box. elaida’s rages were almost always cold. she had not written anything on that document, but scrawled biting words on another, enumerating the aes sedai in the tower, made clear she

the pitcher. she did hate washing in water that had stood all night. at least it was not cold; there was no such thing as cold water anymore. “somebody to box his ears once a week on general principles and keep him on the straight and narrow.” “it isn’t fair.” a clean shift going over elayne’s head muffled the words. “i

it before hurrying on or ignored it so hard they practically shook with the effort. once again gareth bryne was the exception. he ate his meal seated on a wooden box in the middle of the street; any of the hall looking out a window would have to see him. slowly, ever so slowly, the sun slid down behind the trees.

sun slid down behind the trees. dark came abruptly, with no twilight to speak of, and the streets emptied. the harper’s melody began again. gareth bryne still sat on his box on the edge of a pool of light from the hall’s banquet. nynaeve shook her head; she did not know whether he was being admirable or foolish. some of each,

than uneasy. they linked hands again. need. shift. it was not an ordinary storeroom. shelves lined the walls and made two short rows out in the floor, neatly lined with boxes of various sizes and shapes, some plain wood, some carved or lacquered, with things wrapped in cloth, with statuettes and figurines, and peculiar shapes seemingly of metal or glass, crystal

of gai’shain, their arms filled to overflowing with rolled maps of all sizes, some long enough to drag on the courtyard paving stones. one white-robed man carried an ivory-inlaid writing box. “i have set gai’shain looking for more,” she said stiffly, “and some of the wetlanders.” “thank you,” he told her. a little of the tautness went from her face. squatting

advanced. a bald, skinny man in ill-fitting palace livery scurried into the courtyard with another armload, and rand sighed and went on selecting and discarding. haman gravely examined the writing box that was held out to him by the gai’shain, then produced one almost as large, though quite plain, from a capacious coat pocket. the pen he took from it was

come out of my lord’s smallclothes, but if my lord will allow it, i may be able to do something for the tears in my lord.” he had his sewing box under one arm. “you, boy, fetch some water. no back talk. water for my lord, and quickly.” nerim combined picking up the lantern with a bow. “if my lord will

the color of the sun. see?” he added a small purse. “i have five coppers and a silver penny.” a rolled cloth tied with a string and a small wooden box. “my game of snakes and foxes; my father made it for me; he drew the board.” for a moment his face crumpled, then he went on. “and see, this stone

the hollow cylinder of an exchanger. glowbulbs, bright and steady, stood oddly in heavy gold candleholders, giving much better illumination than candles or oil lamps ever could. a small music box sat on the marble mantelpiece, producing from its memory the soft strains of a sound-sculpture that very likely had not been heard outside this room in well over three thousand

the envy from her voice, and when she saw his faint smile, she realized she had failed. filling two silver-chased goblets with wine, he handed her one. “only a stasis box. i suppose people tried to save what they could in the last days.” his smile pulled at that awful scar across his face as he beamed around the chamber, with

last days.” his smile pulled at that awful scar across his face as he beamed around the chamber, with especial fondness for the zara board projecting its field of still-transparent boxes in the air; he had always liked the more violent games. of course, a zara board meant his stasis box had been filled by someone who followed the great lord;

fondness for the zara board projecting its field of still-transparent boxes in the air; he had always liked the more violent games. of course, a zara board meant his stasis box had been filled by someone who followed the great lord; possession of a single once-human playing piece had meant imprisonment at the least on the other side. what else had

again that faint smile. he had found something more than playthings and pretties. “on the other hand,” he went on, “think how awful it would have been to open a box and rouse a nest of cafar, say, or a jumara, or one of aginor’s other little creations. did you know there are jumara loose in the blight? full-grown, though they’ll

must understand people to make them do as you wished. compulsion was all very well, but you could not use compulsion on the entire world. she wondered whether the stasis box had been this cache that he claimed he would put his hands on soon. if he had even one angreal. . . . if he did, she would find out,

mouse.” he had never intended to. the man had been toying with her! if she were not too frightened to be sure of her knees, she would go over and box his ears. “a great deal of gold,” rand said. he seemed relaxed, his smile taking in his whole face. “i can always find a use for gold.” egwene blinked. he

driver. steepling her fingers in the coach, nesune tapped them thoughtfully against her lips. a fascinating young man. a fascinating subject for study. her foot touched one of the specimen boxes under the seat; she never went anywhere without proper specimen boxes. one would think that the world must have been catalogued long since, yet since leaving tar valon she had

against her lips. a fascinating young man. a fascinating subject for study. her foot touched one of the specimen boxes under the seat; she never went anywhere without proper specimen boxes. one would think that the world must have been catalogued long since, yet since leaving tar valon she had tucked away fifty plants, twice as many insects, and the skins

stating the obvious was coiren’s only real fault. she did have a good mind, when she used it. and they did have time. her foot touched one of the specimen boxes again. however events spun out, the paper she intended to write on al’thor would be the culmination of her life. chapter 28 letters lews therin was there—rand was sure of

dance spears. well, not that exactly; aviendha had taught him that neither wise ones nor their apprentices did that sort of thing. but it would not surprise him if she boxed nandera’s ears. he spoke quickly to forestall any such thing. “since i caused sulin to do what she did, don’t i have toh toward her?” apparently it was possible to

doubt it would be as simple as disposing of a pair of aes sedai. i keep thinking what i would do in sammael’s place. i would have illian warded in boxes, so if a man even thought of channeling, i’d know right where he was, and i would burn even the ground to ash before he had time to take a

chapter 34 journey to salidar egwene washed her face. twice. then she found her saddlebags and filled them. her ivory comb and brush and mirror went in, and her sewing box—a small, finely gilded casket that likely had held some lady’s jewels once—plus a white cake of rose-perfumed soap and clean stockings and shifts and handkerchiefs and a host of things,

protested that she had given back every word correctly, listed who would stand where and who would say what just the way they had told her, she thought morvrin might box her ears if beonin or carlinya did not first. in the event, their frowns were as hard as slaps, and sheriam looked at her as if she were a novice

their heads swiveled toward egwene, faces showing nothing but cool serenity. at the far end of the room was another chair, standing on a small dais more like a flat box. a tall heavy chair, the legs and uprights carved in spirals, it had been painted in yellow and blue, green and white, gray and brown and red. a stole lay

less so for being right. definitely the less so in that tone. it was a real effort to keep her hands still on the table. she wanted to stand and box his ears. “however i deal with rand,” she said coolly, “you can be sure it will not be by leading aes sedai to swear fealty to him or any other

put it out of reach. “i should have let him do as he wanted, nynaeve. you have to remember you’re aes sedai now. you can’t go around kicking people, or boxing their ears, or thumping them with sticks.” nynaeve stared at her, mouth working, face growing redder and redder. elayne began assiduously studying the carpet. with a sigh, egwene folded the

with their carts and wagons to buy food. a hundred paths for that rumor to take, and it only needed one. “sheriam, i can’t help feeling we are in a box, and if we don’t get out of it, nothing good will come. nothing at all good.” “the answer is to send the dragonsworn away,” sheriam said, not so patiently as

night. he had been allowed out once they were away from cairhien, but galina suspected erian was going to want him to make the rest of the journey inside that box. the green rounded on her as soon as she came close. erian was quite beautiful usually, her face a pale exquisite oval, but now crimson suffused her cheeks, as it

given him some at dawn, but he was thirsty again; even if they let him drink more than once a day, begging would fit. if he was still in the box then, he might plead to be let out, too. he thought he would be; small chance of them allowing him out for long until they were sure he had learned

there would be another beating before he was fed and doused with water and trussed like a goose to sleep however he could. but he would be out of the box. the darkness around him was incomplete, a deep dark gray. the tiny crack around the lid let in the smallest amount of light, though he could not see with his

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to say she would not share rand, not in any way, not with anyone, even a friend, and min’s viewings could go to the pit of doom; part wanted to box rand’s ears for doing this to her and min. it was all so childish she felt like hiding her head, but she could not untangle the snarl in her feelings.

the pitcher. she did hate washing in water that had stood all night. at least it was not cold; there was no such thing as cold water anymore. “somebody to box his ears once a week on general principles and keep him on the straight and narrow.” “it isn’t fair.” a clean shift going over elayne’s head muffled the words. “i

mouse.” he had never intended to. the man had been toying with her! if she were not too frightened to be sure of her knees, she would go over and box his ears. “a great deal of gold,” rand said. he seemed relaxed, his smile taking in his whole face. “i can always find a use for gold.” egwene blinked. he

dance spears. well, not that exactly; aviendha had taught him that neither wise ones nor their apprentices did that sort of thing. but it would not surprise him if she boxed nandera’s ears. he spoke quickly to forestall any such thing. “since i caused sulin to do what she did, don’t i have toh toward her?” apparently it was possible to

protested that she had given back every word correctly, listed who would stand where and who would say what just the way they had told her, she thought morvrin might box her ears if beonin or carlinya did not first. in the event, their frowns were as hard as slaps, and sheriam looked at her as if she were a novice

less so for being right. definitely the less so in that tone. it was a real effort to keep her hands still on the table. she wanted to stand and box his ears. “however i deal with rand,” she said coolly, “you can be sure it will not be by leading aes sedai to swear fealty to him or any other

put it out of reach. “i should have let him do as he wanted, nynaeve. you have to remember you’re aes sedai now. you can’t go around kicking people, or boxing their ears, or thumping them with sticks.” nynaeve stared at her, mouth working, face growing redder and redder. elayne began assiduously studying the carpet. with a sigh, egwene folded the

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A Crown of Swords - Robert Jordan.txt

tall chairback held the flame of tar valon picked out in moon-stones above her dark head as she sat. nothing marred the polished surface of the table except for three boxes of altaran lacquerwork, arranged just so. opening the box covered with golden hawks among white clouds, she removed a slim strip of thin paper from atop the pile of reports

out in moon-stones above her dark head as she sat. nothing marred the polished surface of the table except for three boxes of altaran lacquerwork, arranged just so. opening the box covered with golden hawks among white clouds, she removed a slim strip of thin paper from atop the pile of reports and correspondence inside. for what must have been the

really counted. elaida kept her own face every bit as cool as the other woman’s, acknowledging her only with a nod while she pretended to examine papers from the lacquered box. slowly she turned them over one by one, returned them to the box slowly. without really seeing a word. making alviarin wait was bitter, because it was petty, and petty

other woman’s, acknowledging her only with a nod while she pretended to examine papers from the lacquered box. slowly she turned them over one by one, returned them to the box slowly. without really seeing a word. making alviarin wait was bitter, because it was petty, and petty ways were all she had to strike at one who should have been

times that could come slowly on occasion so slowly it never happened, and these were far from the best. alviarin stood there, calm as a frozen pond. closing the altaran box, elaida kept out the strip of paper that announced her sure victory. unconsciously she fingered it, a talisman. “has teslyn or joline finally deigned to send more than word of

was marked. and the temerity of asking whether her actions were wise! she was the amyrlin seat! not first among equals; the amyrlin seat! opening the largest of the lacquered boxes revealed carved ivory miniatures laid out on gray velvet. often just handling her collection soothed her, but more, like the knitting she enjoyed, it let whoever was attending her know

one spoke to aes sedai that way, not a king or a queen. bera gave him a look that said she was considering hauling him out of the saddle and boxing his ears. still peering toward the shambles below, kiruna smoothed her skirts, her face coldly determined. loial’s ears trembled. he had a deep but uneasy respect for aes sedai; close

the voice said at last, wonderingly. that denial of rand’s existence was as usual as refusing to answer. am i? i spoke to someone. i think i did. inside a box. a chest. wheezing laughter, soft. am i dead, or mad, or both? no matter. i am surely damned. i am damned, and this is the pit of doom. i am

really was an idiot. hustling a protesting selame out, egwene brushed her own hair, turned down her own cot, placed the now useless a’dam bracelet in the small carved ivory box where she kept her few pieces of jewelry, then extinguished the lamps. all by myself, she thought sarcastically in the darkness. selame and meri will have conniptions. before retiring, however,

one wall of the small stone house had collapsed, and a few charred timbers stuck up beside the soot-coated chimney like grimy fingers. the roofless barn was a blackened hollow box of stone, and scattered ash marked where sheds might once have stood. all across altara they had seen as bad and worse, entire villages sometimes, the dead lying in the

the windfinder felt threatened, by the time elayne had paid the boatmen and cautioned them to wait for their return—with nynaeve grumbling over the amount and telling them she would box their ears if they left, and how she was to manage that nearly set aviendha laughing again—by the time all that was done, it seemed a decision had been reached

sash like the others, but hers were of brocaded yellow silk, the sash knotted intricately with ends trailing to her knee, and one of her necklaces bore a small golden box of intricate piercework. a sweetly musky scent surrounded her. gray streaked her hair heavily, and she had a grave face. five small fat golden rings decorated each of her ears,

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

you with several, but the price of those is even higher. i doubt what you’ve gleaned from cairhien will be enough. fortunately, you can use the . . . traveling boxes to take your people to richer lands.” even meira was hard-pressed to keep her expression from becoming too avid. richer lands, and no need to make a way through those

mesaana’s hands is one thing; al’thor in this savage’s is something else. not that she’ll have much chance at him if you really intend sending them off to loot. traveling boxes? what is your game there? do they hold captives? if you think i will teach them compulsion, erase it from your mind. one of those women was not negligible. i

considering hitting him with it. when he raised his eyes again, though, he looked outraged for some reason. “sacrifices?” he snarled. “if i asked you to make the same, you’d box every ear in sight and pull the roof down on my head!” could he still be drunk? she decided to ignore his frightful glare. “speaking of your head, if you

coolly. very coolly, in fact. she had a way of slashing someone to tatters without letting her tone heat that nynaeve admired. usually. now, it just made her want to box the other woman’s ears. “we could be back in the palace drinking blueberry tea and enjoying the breezes while we waited for master cauthon to move his belongings. perhaps aviendha

evaded his question of who it was they thought they might recognize. nynaeve let that slip, and elayne gave her such a look he thought he might see nynaeve’s ears boxed for once. they meekly accepted his stricture not to lose sight of their bodyguards, and meekly let him see the disguises they intended to wear. even after thom’s description, seeing

wool, maybe a tairen, crossed two bridges before entering a large shop where she was greeted with smiles by a skinny bowing fellow and began supervising the loading of lacquered boxes and trays into sawdust-filled baskets that were then loaded into a wagon. by what he heard, she hoped to fetch a pretty piece of silver with them in andor. mat

then loaded into a wagon. by what he heard, she hoped to fetch a pretty piece of silver with them in andor. mat barely managed to escape without buying a box. so much for random luck. no one else had any either. nynaeve and elayne and aviendha made their pilgrimages to the streets around carridin’s small palace without seeing anyone they

produced the long iron key to his door from behind her gold-and-silver belt, and then another just like it, waggling the pair at him. “people always keep keys in a box near the door.” that was where he had left his. “and no one ever thinks there might be a second key.” one key went back behind her belt; the other

of what was going on between him and tylin; there was no way he could face anybody knowing this. in the sitting room, he lifted the lid of the lacquerware box by the door, then let it fall with a sigh; he had not really expected tylin to replace the key. he leaned against the door. the unlocked door. light, what

they were too dangerous to keep long as captives, and he had no idea what to do with them. they frightened him. sometimes he dreamed of being bound inside the box again, of galina and erian and katerine and the rest taking him out to beat him, dreamed and woke whimpering even after he convinced himself his eyes were open and

strung with gold medallions running from an earring to a ring in the side of the nose. they said nothing, only stood together watching him, sniffing at small, lacy golden boxes that hung from chains around their necks. he addressed himself to them. “i am the dragon reborn. i am the coramoor.” a collective sigh ran through the crew. not among

to me, cousin.” caraline’s low voice almost crackled with urgency. she stood very close, her neck craned to look up at him. barely reaching his chest, she seemed ready to box his ears. “if you use none of your special tricks,” caraline went on, “he can hurt you badly, even with practice swords, and he will. he has never liked another

had that min saw rested in these three women. maybe knowing could not help. maybe knowing could at least make them understand something of him. “they put him in a box,” she began. she was not sure how she went on—except that she had to—or how she kept from bursting into tears—except that she was not going to break down again

thunderhead. they should have known from yesterday that he was not intimidated by aes sedai, yet even reanne gave him such a scowl he half thought she might try to box his ears. apparently, if they were going to fall all over themselves around aes sedai, then everybody else had to as well. elayne struggled with herself visibly. her lips compressed,

him as if he were a stranger, he saw it for true now. “i saw what you did, mat. with him. we might as well have been chickens in a box with a weasel. channeling wouldn’t touch him; the flows melted the way they do with your. . . .” glancing at the medallion still hanging from his fist, she drew

tight, you hear me?” she shrieked like a cat. she carried her hat, and shook it at whoever she was shouting at. “you let her get away, too, and i’ll box your ears till you hear bells next year!” she turned, then, and her eyes nearly bulged out of her head. “the light shine on us,” she breathed, hurrying to bend

was enough. either way, we know one is in ebou dar, probably kept alive since the breaking in a stasis-box. we don’t know if any others were put into that box, but one is more than enough. whoever sent him—and it had to be one of the forsaken—knew to follow us across the river. he had to have been sent after

the woman smiled, but those black eyes. . . . well, what could be done to one aes sedai could be done to two. or more. “what of the traveling boxes?” sevanna demanded curtly. caddar waved the gai’shain away and patted the sack beside him. “i brought as many nar’baha—that is what they were called—as many as i could find. enough

behind the mountains to the west, half of a glowing red ball. “one of these days,” she said dryly, “you will be too smart for your own good. a fool box, sammael? suppose one of them had understood?” “none did,” he said simply, but he kept rubbing his hands together and staring at where the gateway had been. or maybe at

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one spoke to aes sedai that way, not a king or a queen. bera gave him a look that said she was considering hauling him out of the saddle and boxing his ears. still peering toward the shambles below, kiruna smoothed her skirts, her face coldly determined. loial’s ears trembled. he had a deep but uneasy respect for aes sedai; close

one spoke to aes sedai that way, not a king or a queen. bera gave him a look that said she was considering hauling him out of the saddle and boxing his ears. still peering toward the shambles below, kiruna smoothed her skirts, her face coldly determined. loial’s ears trembled. he had a deep but uneasy respect for aes sedai; close

the windfinder felt threatened, by the time elayne had paid the boatmen and cautioned them to wait for their return—with nynaeve grumbling over the amount and telling them she would box their ears if they left, and how she was to manage that nearly set aviendha laughing again—by the time all that was done, it seemed a decision had been reached

sash like the others, but hers were of brocaded yellow silk, the sash knotted intricately with ends trailing to her knee, and one of her necklaces bore a small golden box of intricate piercework. a sweetly musky scent surrounded her. gray streaked her hair heavily, and she had a grave face. five small fat golden rings decorated each of her ears,

considering hitting him with it. when he raised his eyes again, though, he looked outraged for some reason. “sacrifices?” he snarled. “if i asked you to make the same, you’d box every ear in sight and pull the roof down on my head!” could he still be drunk? she decided to ignore his frightful glare. “speaking of your head, if you

coolly. very coolly, in fact. she had a way of slashing someone to tatters without letting her tone heat that nynaeve admired. usually. now, it just made her want to box the other woman’s ears. “we could be back in the palace drinking blueberry tea and enjoying the breezes while we waited for master cauthon to move his belongings. perhaps aviendha

evaded his question of who it was they thought they might recognize. nynaeve let that slip, and elayne gave her such a look he thought he might see nynaeve’s ears boxed for once. they meekly accepted his stricture not to lose sight of their bodyguards, and meekly let him see the disguises they intended to wear. even after thom’s description, seeing

strung with gold medallions running from an earring to a ring in the side of the nose. they said nothing, only stood together watching him, sniffing at small, lacy golden boxes that hung from chains around their necks. he addressed himself to them. “i am the dragon reborn. i am the coramoor.” a collective sigh ran through the crew. not among

to me, cousin.” caraline’s low voice almost crackled with urgency. she stood very close, her neck craned to look up at him. barely reaching his chest, she seemed ready to box his ears. “if you use none of your special tricks,” caraline went on, “he can hurt you badly, even with practice swords, and he will. he has never liked another

thunderhead. they should have known from yesterday that he was not intimidated by aes sedai, yet even reanne gave him such a scowl he half thought she might try to box his ears. apparently, if they were going to fall all over themselves around aes sedai, then everybody else had to as well. elayne struggled with herself visibly. her lips compressed,

tight, you hear me?” she shrieked like a cat. she carried her hat, and shook it at whoever she was shouting at. “you let her get away, too, and i’ll box your ears till you hear bells next year!” she turned, then, and her eyes nearly bulged out of her head. “the light shine on us,” she breathed, hurrying to bend

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The Path of Daggers - Robert Jordan.txt

hands and brightly colored blouses, most in trousers and long sashes just as brilliant. sweat glistening on dark faces did not lessen their grave dignity. some sniffed at lacy gold boxes, filled with heavy scent, that hung about their necks. five fat gold rings pierced each of renaile din calon’s ears, a chain from one dripping medallions as it ran across

giddy as a goat full of ale. hold her nose, if she tries not to swallow. even an aes sedai will swallow if you hold her nose and threaten to box her ears.” reanne’s jaw dropped and her eyes sprang wide, like most of her companions’. sumeko nodded, but slowly, and goggled nearly as much as the others. when kinswomen said

continued to grow, but so did the other, if more slowly, things that had nothing in common except the faint warmth and the sense of echoing the power. a small box that felt like ivory, covered in wavering red and green stripes; she set it down carefully without opening the hinged lid. you could never tell what might trigger a ter’angreal.

once, and laughing while she did. they usually deserve it, even if you don’t know exactly how. not fair, yet she wished he were there long enough for her to box his ears, just once. long enough to kiss him, to have him kiss the sides of her neck softly. long enough to. . . . “he will listen to advice,

elayne tried. she really could talk to aviendha about anything. if only rand had not been the example used quite so often. if he had been there, she would have boxed his ears. and kissed him. then boxed his ears again. not a pleasant ride at all. a miserable ride. nynaeve made several more brief visits, before finally coming to announce

aviendha about anything. if only rand had not been the example used quite so often. if he had been there, she would have boxed his ears. and kissed him. then boxed his ears again. not a pleasant ride at all. a miserable ride. nynaeve made several more brief visits, before finally coming to announce that the kin’s farm lay just ahead,

with no one studying ter’angreal. they took every form imaginable. cups and bowls and vases, no two the same size or design or in the same material. a flat, worm-eaten box, half-falling apart and whatever had lined it long since gone to dust, held pieces of jewelry—a necklace and bracelets set with colored stones, a slim gem-studded belt, several finger rings—and

pushed away memories of her own recent thoughts about rand. this was not the same. and the opportunity was a gift of the light. tomorrow, nynaeve would likely try to box her ears if she said nynaeve was being foolish. “take hold of yourself, nynaeve. stop behaving like a giddy girl.” definitely not thoughts of rand! she had not been mooning

as she could, but it added up, especially with angreal involved. elayne’s awareness climbed higher with each addition of saidar. she could smell the heavy scents in the lacework gold boxes that the windfinders wore around their necks, and separate one from another. she could make out each fold and crease in everyone’s clothes as sharply as if she had her

time; you men snarl up a woman’s wits so she can hardly think, then you pretend you’ve done nothing at all. the lot of you ought to have your ears boxed on general principle. the girl’s afraid of her own heart! those two should be married, and the quicker the better.” master gill gaped at her, and perrin was not sure

ropes drooping between chest-high poles set upright in the ground. a cook fire stood every twenty paces, with lances stacked in steel-tipped cones between. the whole made a sort of box around five peaked tents, one striped gold-and-blue and larger than the other four combined. all very different from the two rivers men’s every-which-way arrangement. perrin walked along briskly, trying not

you rather have remained in kinslayer’s dagger to be destroyed? to be hunted like animals by four clans whose wise ones know how to make those holes without the traveling boxes? instead, we are in the heart of a rich, soft land. richer even than the lands of the tree-killers. look at what we have taken in only ten days. how

caddar, whoever he was, and rhiale barked that sevanna had brought him to the others, and others began arguing about whether the “binder” would work any better than the “traveling box.” a small part of galina’s mind seized on mention of the traveling box. she had heard it spoken of before, longed to lay hands on it if only for a

the others, and others began arguing about whether the “binder” would work any better than the “traveling box.” a small part of galina’s mind seized on mention of the traveling box. she had heard it spoken of before, longed to lay hands on it if only for a moment. with a ter’angreal that enabled her to travel, however imperfectly it seemed

years, including some that would have surprised anyone with nerve enough to search the basket. not that she often left it out of her sight. setting the polished silver thread box carefully on the table, she selected the skeins she needed and sat with her back to the door. the major image on her piece of embroidery was finished, a man’s

it would be a disturbing piece, when completed. before she had finished half a petal on the rose, a flash of motion reflected on the flat lid of the thread box caught her eye. it had been carefully placed to reflect the doorway. she did not raise her head from the hoop. alanna stood there glaring at her back. cadsuane continued

and pouted as much as an arafellin could on her aged deathbed. abruptly, alanna’s eyes widened in alarm, and cadsuane saw another face reflected in the lid of her thread box. setting the cup back on the tray and her embroidery hoop on the table, cadsuane stood and turned to the door. she did not hurry, but she did not dally

if you are wrong, we’ll not know before they attack us.” “torval might be right,” dashiva put in thoughtfully. “i can’t say i’d trust women who put me in a box, and these haven’t sworn any oaths. or have they?” “i said leave them alone!” rand slapped the tabletop, hard, and hopwil jumped in surprise. dashiva frowned with irritation before hurriedly

length,” siuan said suddenly. “the man’s a walking tribulation, it’s true. if he doesn’t count as penance for my lies, being flayed alive wouldn’t do. one of these days, i’ll box his ears every morning and twice at evenings, on general principle, but you can tell him everything. it would help, if he understood. he’s taking you on trust, and it

well? was he warm? enough of that. too much, in light of what she had to say. she put on her best amyrlin’s voice, sure and in command. “you can box lord bryne’s ears or bed him, siuan, but you will watch yourself with him. you will not let slip things he mustn’t know yet. do you understand me?” siuan jerked

one spoke a word. quickly, seats were set up sufficient for the entire hall, and egwene. only simple benches, though polished till they gleamed, but each stood on a wide box covered with cloth in the color of the sitter’s ajah, in a long row as wide as the canopy. the box placed in front, for egwene’s bench, was striped like

till they gleamed, but each stood on a wide box covered with cloth in the color of the sitter’s ajah, in a long row as wide as the canopy. the box placed in front, for egwene’s bench, was striped like her stole. there had been a great flurry of activity in the night, beginning with finding beeswax for polish and good

the nobles clutching their own cloaks close. outside, the flame of tar valon lifted in the stiffening breeze. only halima, lounging beside delana’s chair on the edge of the gray-covered box, at all spoiled the grand image, and her big green eyes stared at the andorans and murandians so challengingly that she did not spoil it much. there were a few

meaning any woman of any age at all? any can become aes sedai, then?” a question close to egwene’s heart, and an answer she dearly wanted to give—along with a box on the ear for the doubt—but just then a small gap in the flow of people showed her talmanes near the back of the pavilion. talking with pelivar! they stood

sheriam began. “she comes; she comes. . . .” if she sounded a little less grand than usual, a touch nervous, it was small wonder. the polished benches and cloth-covered boxes from the lake were in use again. they made a much more formal sight than the mismatched gaggle of chairs that had been used previously, two slanting lines of nine,

lines of nine, grouped by threes; green, gray and yellow to one side, white, brown and blue to the other. at the wide end, farthest from egwene, stood the striped box and bench for the amyrlin seat. sitting there, she would be the focus of every eye, very much aware that she was one facing eighteen. as well she had not

aes sedai. could siuan have seen a pattern in the sitters’ ages? no. focus. calm, and focus. gripping the edges of her cloak, egwene stepped up onto the brightly striped box and turned. lelaine was already on her feet, blue-fringed shawl looped across her arms, and romanda was rising, without even waiting for egwene to sit. she dared not let either

the nobles roil about on the hills. a little way off on the flat, gedwyn and rochaid sat their saddles in front of their men, all formed into a precise box, dedicated in the front rank, soldiers lined up behind. they looked ready to parade. as many had gray hair or nearly none as were young—several were as young as hopwil

turn south.” “disengage!” the heavy-shouldered taraboner barked. “it will take us days to disengage! the illianers, they fight like badgers backed into a corner, the cairhienin like ferrets in a box. the tairens, they are not so hard as i have heard, but there are maybe a dozen of these asha’man, yes? i do not even know where three-quarters of my

ajahs is important, daughters.” elaida did not raise her voice, but every head swiveled toward her. she replaced the ivory carving with the rest of her collection in the large box covered with roses and golden scrolls, carefully adjusted the positions of her writing case and correspondence box so the three lacquered boxes lined up just so on the table, and

replaced the ivory carving with the rest of her collection in the large box covered with roses and golden scrolls, carefully adjusted the positions of her writing case and correspondence box so the three lacquered boxes lined up just so on the table, and once their silence was perfect she went on. “the business of the tower is more important, though.

the rest of her collection in the large box covered with roses and golden scrolls, carefully adjusted the positions of her writing case and correspondence box so the three lacquered boxes lined up just so on the table, and once their silence was perfect she went on. “the business of the tower is more important, though. i trust you will effect

behind the woman, leaving elaida to fume. be there when alviarin returned! confined to her quarters like a novice in the punishment cells! for a time she fingered her correspondence box, with its golden hawks fighting among white clouds in a blue sky, yet she could not make herself open it. with alviarin gone, that box had begun once more to

time she fingered her correspondence box, with its golden hawks fighting among white clouds in a blue sky, yet she could not make herself open it. with alviarin gone, that box had begun once more to hold letters and reports of importance, not just the table scraps alviarin let fall to her, yet with the woman’s return, it might as well

“what else can it be?” she asked calmly. well, she tried for calm, and almost made it. she loved the man, but after a morning of this, she wanted to box his ears soundly. “you haven’t mentioned mat twice, and you don’t know whether he’s even alive.” “mat’s alive,” rand snarled. “i’d know if he was dead. what do you mean

toward the line of women so quickly that beldeine and sarene stepped back. a sharp gesture from sorilea jerked them into place again. “would you accept being confined in a box?” his voice grated, stone grinding on frozen stone. “locked in a chest all day, and beaten before you go in and when you come out?” that was what they had

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hands and brightly colored blouses, most in trousers and long sashes just as brilliant. sweat glistening on dark faces did not lessen their grave dignity. some sniffed at lacy gold boxes, filled with heavy scent, that hung about their necks. five fat gold rings pierced each of renaile din calon’s ears, a chain from one dripping medallions as it ran across

giddy as a goat full of ale. hold her nose, if she tries not to swallow. even an aes sedai will swallow if you hold her nose and threaten to box her ears.” reanne’s jaw dropped and her eyes sprang wide, like most of her companions’. sumeko nodded, but slowly, and goggled nearly as much as the others. when kinswomen said

once, and laughing while she did. they usually deserve it, even if you don’t know exactly how. not fair, yet she wished he were there long enough for her to box his ears, just once. long enough to kiss him, to have him kiss the sides of her neck softly. long enough to. . . . “he will listen to advice,

elayne tried. she really could talk to aviendha about anything. if only rand had not been the example used quite so often. if he had been there, she would have boxed his ears. and kissed him. then boxed his ears again. not a pleasant ride at all. a miserable ride. nynaeve made several more brief visits, before finally coming to announce

elayne tried. she really could talk to aviendha about anything. if only rand had not been the example used quite so often. if he had been there, she would have boxed his ears. and kissed him. then boxed his ears again. not a pleasant ride at all. a miserable ride. nynaeve made several more brief visits, before finally coming to announce

aviendha about anything. if only rand had not been the example used quite so often. if he had been there, she would have boxed his ears. and kissed him. then boxed his ears again. not a pleasant ride at all. a miserable ride. nynaeve made several more brief visits, before finally coming to announce that the kin’s farm lay just ahead,

aviendha about anything. if only rand had not been the example used quite so often. if he had been there, she would have boxed his ears. and kissed him. then boxed his ears again. not a pleasant ride at all. a miserable ride. nynaeve made several more brief visits, before finally coming to announce that the kin’s farm lay just ahead,

pushed away memories of her own recent thoughts about rand. this was not the same. and the opportunity was a gift of the light. tomorrow, nynaeve would likely try to box her ears if she said nynaeve was being foolish. “take hold of yourself, nynaeve. stop behaving like a giddy girl.” definitely not thoughts of rand! she had not been mooning

time; you men snarl up a woman’s wits so she can hardly think, then you pretend you’ve done nothing at all. the lot of you ought to have your ears boxed on general principle. the girl’s afraid of her own heart! those two should be married, and the quicker the better.” master gill gaped at her, and perrin was not sure

length,” siuan said suddenly. “the man’s a walking tribulation, it’s true. if he doesn’t count as penance for my lies, being flayed alive wouldn’t do. one of these days, i’ll box his ears every morning and twice at evenings, on general principle, but you can tell him everything. it would help, if he understood. he’s taking you on trust, and it

well? was he warm? enough of that. too much, in light of what she had to say. she put on her best amyrlin’s voice, sure and in command. “you can box lord bryne’s ears or bed him, siuan, but you will watch yourself with him. you will not let slip things he mustn’t know yet. do you understand me?” siuan jerked

meaning any woman of any age at all? any can become aes sedai, then?” a question close to egwene’s heart, and an answer she dearly wanted to give—along with a box on the ear for the doubt—but just then a small gap in the flow of people showed her talmanes near the back of the pavilion. talking with pelivar! they stood

“what else can it be?” she asked calmly. well, she tried for calm, and almost made it. she loved the man, but after a morning of this, she wanted to box his ears soundly. “you haven’t mentioned mat twice, and you don’t know whether he’s even alive.” “mat’s alive,” rand snarled. “i’d know if he was dead. what do you mean

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Winter's Heart - Robert Jordan.txt

more than half the wagon bed. even stranger, the wagon-shafts were missing. one of the men was moving split firewood from a large wheelbarrow into the side of a metal box fastened below one end of the big cylinder. the open door in the box glowed with the red of fire inside, and smoke rose from a tall, narrow chimney. another

the men was moving split firewood from a large wheelbarrow into the side of a metal box fastened below one end of the big cylinder. the open door in the box glowed with the red of fire inside, and smoke rose from a tall, narrow chimney. another fellow danced around the wagon, bearded, capless and bald-headed, gesturing and apparently shouting orders

him think of. she stood blocking the entrance to the tent. “you are impetuous, perrin aybara.” her light voice was level, but he had the impression that she was considering boxing his ears. very much like nynaeve. “though that might be understandable, in the circumstances. what do you want?” “how . . . ?” he had to stop to swallow. “how

have made one of them see reason,” nynaeve said before lan had even shut the door behind them. she scowled at the woman in brown as though she wanted to box her ears if not worse, then glanced at alise. elayne thought nynaeve was a little in awe of alise. the woman was far from strong in the power—she would never

the power in him. furniture and large cloth-covered shapes nearly filled the room, interspersed with wide barrels of the sort used to store crockery, chests of all shapes and sizes, boxes and crates and knickknacks. little more than walkways a pace or two wide remained clear. he had been sure he would not find servants hunting for something, or cleaning up.

off an empty chest bound in cracked, rotting leather, and the other had taken a glass-smooth shaving down the length of a long, inlaid table stacked with vases and wooden boxes. maybe some queen of andor had eaten at that table, a century or two gone. a century or two, lews therin laughed thickly in his head. a very long time.

green, and even more intense than most. nesune, hunched forward to peer at her book, looked like a black-eyed bird examining a worm. a brown, she would climb into a box with a scorpion if she wanted to study it. sarene might be fool enough to be startled that anyone thought her pretty, much less stunning, but the white insisted on

tuon athaem kore paendrag, daughter of the nine moons, and she had come to reclaim what had been stolen from her ancestor. chapter 15 in need of a bellfounder the boxlike wagon reminded mat of tinker wagons he had seen, a little house on wheels, though this one, filled with cabinets and workbenches built into the walls, was not made for

about as an invasion, an army. one of the wagon drivers shouted and waved her long-handled whip at some boys who had crawled up on the side of the wagon box to poke at what appeared to be grapevines in wooden tubs of earth. another wagon held a long printing press, and still another, just managing to turn into the tunnel,

enid,” she said briskly. no one would have known that she had been trembling a moment earlier. gathering joline’s cloak from its peg, she took a long splinter from a box on the mantelpiece and bent to light it in the fire beneath the spits. “i will be in the cellar if you need me, but if anyone asks, you don’t

when the apartments had been mat’s. “she is getting married, mat,” olver said patiently, as though explaining to someone who didn’t see the obvious. popping open a narrow little carved box riselle had given him, just long enough to make sure his redhawk’s feather was safe, he snapped it shut and tucked it into the leather scrip he would be carrying

found a wooden bucket. he left it there and made himself complete the circuit, all the way back to the iron door. all the way. he was inside a black box three paces long and just over two paces wide. raising one hand, he found the stone ceiling less than a foot above his head. closed in, lews therin panted hoarsely.

long and just over two paces wide. raising one hand, he found the stone ceiling less than a foot above his head. closed in, lews therin panted hoarsely. it’s the box again. when those women put us in the box. we have to get out! he howled. we have to get out! ignoring the screaming voice in his head, rand backed

hand, he found the stone ceiling less than a foot above his head. closed in, lews therin panted hoarsely. it’s the box again. when those women put us in the box. we have to get out! he howled. we have to get out! ignoring the screaming voice in his head, rand backed away from the door until he thought he was

sooner. horror added to his shudders as he realized that he was hoping those sisters were closer, were in the city already, so they could take him out of this box. “i will not surrender!” he shouted. “i will be as hard as i need to be!” in that confined space, his voice boomed like thunder. moiraine had died because he

be found in the world, and too many people knew that the dragon reborn had one. and leaving it here, he had still ended up in a dark, cramped stone box under the . . . no. that was done and over. over. lews therin panted in the shadows of his mind. thrusting callandor under his saddle-girth, he reined the gray

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him think of. she stood blocking the entrance to the tent. “you are impetuous, perrin aybara.” her light voice was level, but he had the impression that she was considering boxing his ears. very much like nynaeve. “though that might be understandable, in the circumstances. what do you want?” “how . . . ?” he had to stop to swallow. “how

have made one of them see reason,” nynaeve said before lan had even shut the door behind them. she scowled at the woman in brown as though she wanted to box her ears if not worse, then glanced at alise. elayne thought nynaeve was a little in awe of alise. the woman was far from strong in the power—she would never

about as an invasion, an army. one of the wagon drivers shouted and waved her long-handled whip at some boys who had crawled up on the side of the wagon box to poke at what appeared to be grapevines in wooden tubs of earth. another wagon held a long printing press, and still another, just managing to turn into the tunnel,

enid,” she said briskly. no one would have known that she had been trembling a moment earlier. gathering joline’s cloak from its peg, she took a long splinter from a box on the mantelpiece and bent to light it in the fire beneath the spits. “i will be in the cellar if you need me, but if anyone asks, you don’t

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Crossroads of Twilight - Robert Jordan.txt

huddled to one side, clutching cloaks around themselves, men with their heads down, children clinging to women’s skirts. some of the horsemen had dismounted to ransack the wagons; chests and boxes and even what looked to be clothes already dotted the snow. likely they were searching for coin or drink, though any other valuable that turned up would go into someone’s

along the dirt roads carrying people who wore odd clothes and spoke with odd accents. many of the strangers seemed to be farmers themselves, familiar implements lashed to their wagon boxes, and in their wagons unfamiliar saplings with roots balled in rough cloth, but they were heading on toward more distant land. nothing to do with life here and now. the

had begun to grip mat’s side almost painfully. after a moment, she straightened and glared at the farmer’s departing back as though she were ready to chase after him and box his ears and his bull’s. if that were not bad enough, once the farmer was twenty or so paces away, she shifted her scowl to a company of seanchan soldiers

if she had ruined half his home place. “the dead cannot harm the living, elsie,” she said gently. the more gently because she had laughed, not to mention wanting to box the ninny’s ears. “they’re not of this world anymore, and they can’t touch anything in it, including us.” the girl nodded, and dropped another curtsy, but by the size of

to choose another mistress of the ships. what is happening to the west makes it clear there can be no delay.” shielyn’s mouth tightened, and chanelle raised her pierced scent box to her nose as if to drown the smell of something. its spicy perfume was sharp enough to slice through the scent of rose oil in the room. however they

man. he had not even thought of patting one on the bottom after he realized they and the aes sedai were staring at one another like strange cats in a box. and plainly, however impossibly, the sea folk were the larger cats. the others were worse, in a way. no matter what the rumors said, he knew the look of aes

they were just hoping to rally spirits, or they would not have kept to whispers. the courtesies had to be maintained, though, no matter how often she wished she could box someone’s ears, yet no one could think she was being snubbed if egwene did not see her. a faint silvery light flashed behind a tall canvas wall just ahead of

not meeting in the white tower, in the great circular chamber called the hall of the tower. at the far end, a simple if well polished bench stood atop a box-like platform covered with cloth striped in the seven colors of the ajahs. that and the stole around egwene’s neck were surely the only places in the camp where the red

be of all ajahs. down the bright layered carpets that served as a ground-cloth, two lines of benches slanted away from the entrance in groups of three, sitting atop cloth-covered boxes in the colors of the ajahs. well, six of the ajahs. by tradition, the two oldest sitters could claim the places closest to the amyrlin seat for their ajahs, so

next oldest despite her dark glossy hair, seemed unable to let the other woman gain a jump on her even in something so small. the men who had shifted the boxes—they were stored along the walls until the hall was called to sit—must have just left through the back, because kwamesa, already seated on her bench, was the only gray sitter

to seat the greens near the pavilion’s entrance. the nearer the amyrlin seat the better, was the usual thing. and directly opposite her, escaralde stood in front of the brown-covered boxes, in hushed argument with takima. almost as short as nisao, takima was a quiet bird-like woman, but she could be forceful when she wished, and with her fists on her

careful balance and tried to watch your feet more than the dogs. but you were always aware of the dogs. unpinning her cloak as she stepped up onto the striped box, egwene folded it across her bench before sitting. the benches were hard, and some sitters brought cushions when they thought the sitting would be long. egwene preferred not to. the

to move. fire was a constant concern in the library. the stand-lamps all burned brightly, ready to light the way for any sister who wanted to find a book or boxed manuscript, but a shelved handcart holding three large leather-cased volumes to be replaced was still in the middle of one aisle exactly where she remembered it from the last time

name of the great lord had happened to give her the nerve? what? elaida’s hand slapped the tabletop with a loud crack, a blow that made one of the lacquered boxes there rattle. “when i tell you to stand in the corner, daughter,” she said in a low, dangerous voice, “i expect you to obey.” her eyes glittered. “or shall i

to prayers. elaida studied her for a moment, then gave a satisfied nod. the woman’s eyes still shone with emotion, though. lifting the lid of one of the three lacquered boxes on her table, she took out a small, age-darkened ivory carving of a turtle and stroked it between her fingers. fondling the carvings in that box was a habit she

of the three lacquered boxes on her table, she took out a small, age-darkened ivory carving of a turtle and stroked it between her fingers. fondling the carvings in that box was a habit she had when she wanted to soothe her nerves. “now,” she said. “you were explaining to me why i should enter negotiations.” “we were not asking permission,

and amber. in the bedchamber, she threw open one of the wardrobes and fell to her knees, pushing aside dresses to rummage in the back for a small chest, a box less than two hands square, that had been hers for many years. the carving on the box was intricate but clumsy, rows of varied knots apparently done by a carver

pushing aside dresses to rummage in the back for a small chest, a box less than two hands square, that had been hers for many years. the carving on the box was intricate but clumsy, rows of varied knots apparently done by a carver with more ambition than skill. her hands shook as she carried it to a table, and she

ambition than skill. her hands shook as she carried it to a table, and she set it down to wipe clammy palms on her dress. the trick to opening the box was simply a matter of spreading her fingers as wide as they would go to press simultaneously at four knots in the carving, no two alike. the lid lifted slightly,

lifted slightly, and she threw it back, revealing her most precious possession wrapped in a small bundle of brown cloth to keep it from rattling if a maid shook the box. most tower servants would not risk stealing, but most did not mean all. for a moment, alviarin only stared at the package. her most precious possession, a thing from the

space with fears fluttering through the darkness like enormous bats. instead of rewrapping the ter’angreal, she tucked it into her belt pouch and got up long enough to stuff the box back into the wardrobe. until she knew she was safe, she did not intend to let that rod out of her possession. but then all she could do was sit

the sun still sat little more than halfway down to the horizon, but already gray tendrils were rising from the smoke holes of tents and the metal chimneys of the box-like living wagons. “nobody’s chasing us, and it’s a long way to lugard. good horses are hard to come by, and expensive.” luca gave a sour frown and shook his head.

burly fellows with cudgels were already guarding the entrance, and a third with a clear glass pitcher to take the coins and dump them through a slot in the iron-strapped box on the ground. each of the three looked too clumsy to palm a copper without falling on his face, but luca took no chances. twenty or thirty people were already

the show stretched down the road almost to the town. most gaped and pointed as if he were a painted fool. one of the big horse handlers guarding the coin box gave a gap-toothed smirk and opened his mouth, but mat returned him a level look, and the fellow decided to put his eyes back on the coins going from townsfolk

and opened his mouth, but mat returned him a level look, and the fellow decided to put his eyes back on the coins going from townsfolk to glass pitcher to box. mat thought he had never been so relieved to be inside luca’s show. before he and the two women had gotten three steps inside the entrance, juilin came running up,

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had begun to grip mat’s side almost painfully. after a moment, she straightened and glared at the farmer’s departing back as though she were ready to chase after him and box his ears and his bull’s. if that were not bad enough, once the farmer was twenty or so paces away, she shifted her scowl to a company of seanchan soldiers

if she had ruined half his home place. “the dead cannot harm the living, elsie,” she said gently. the more gently because she had laughed, not to mention wanting to box the ninny’s ears. “they’re not of this world anymore, and they can’t touch anything in it, including us.” the girl nodded, and dropped another curtsy, but by the size of

they were just hoping to rally spirits, or they would not have kept to whispers. the courtesies had to be maintained, though, no matter how often she wished she could box someone’s ears, yet no one could think she was being snubbed if egwene did not see her. a faint silvery light flashed behind a tall canvas wall just ahead of

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Knife of Dreams - Robert Jordan.txt

22 to make an anchor weep 23 call to a sitting 24 honey in the tea 25 attending elaida 26 as if the world were fog 27 a plain wooden box 28 in malden 29 the last knot 30 outside the gates 31 the house on full moon street 32 to keep the bargain 33 nine out of ten 34 a

her bedchamber, the ceiling, even the floor, began to glow with a silvery light. those surfaces seemed to have become light. gaping in shock, she turned slowly, staring at the box of light that surrounded her, and found herself looking at a woman made of roiling flames, clothed in roiling flames. almandaragal was on his feet, awaiting his owner’s command to

the fact that egwene was alive to send a message, would be enough to banish bone-weariness. not so, it appeared. channeling a globe of light long enough to see the box-lantern on the main tent pole, she lit it with a thread of fire. the single flame gave a very pale, flickering illumination. there were other lamps and lanterns, but gareth

delta perch on the dockhead. “and leane. egwene spoke to siuan’s dreams. she refuses any attempt at a rescue.” myrelle gave her a sidelong glance, unreadable, but siuan could have boxed her ears! likely lelaine would have been the next she sought out, but to tell her in her own way, not spilled out on the wharf like this. of late,

maze and tucked it into one of the two large pockets sewn inside her good gray cloak, along with the hairbrush and comb. her neatly folded shawl and a small box of intricately carved blackwood went into the other. the box contained a few pieces of jewelry, some that had come down from her mother and the rest from her maternal

pockets sewn inside her good gray cloak, along with the hairbrush and comb. her neatly folded shawl and a small box of intricately carved blackwood went into the other. the box contained a few pieces of jewelry, some that had come down from her mother and the rest from her maternal grandmother. she herself seldom wore jewelry aside from her great

that had come down from her mother and the rest from her maternal grandmother. she herself seldom wore jewelry aside from her great serpent ring, yet she always took the box and the brush, comb and mirror with her when she journeyed, reminders of the women whose memories she loved and honored, and of what they had taught her. her grandmother,

great deal of work today,” she added for his benefit. at last mattin stepaneos let himself be turned, and she sat down again before he reached the door. three lacquered boxes were arranged just so on the tabletop, one her correspondence box, where she kept recently received letters and reports from the ajahs. the red shared whatever their eyes-and-ears learned—she thought

last mattin stepaneos let himself be turned, and she sat down again before he reached the door. three lacquered boxes were arranged just so on the tabletop, one her correspondence box, where she kept recently received letters and reports from the ajahs. the red shared whatever their eyes-and-ears learned—she thought they did—but the other ajahs still provided only dribbles, though they

she could fall in it forever. it made her queasy. the opening—the gateway—vanished. the memory remained, however. resuming her seat behind the table, she opened the largest of the lacquered boxes, decorated with red roses and golden scrollwork. from the top tray, she picked up a small ivory carving, a fork-tailed swallow dark yellow with years, and stroked her thumb along

doubt in her mind of who he was—he had trusted the creatures above any human servant, despite their uselessness for every other task. somewhere he must have found a stasis box stuffed with the things. he had dozens, although he seldom brought them out. yet ten more stood waiting, graceful while standing still. he must consider this meeting more important than

clouds of dust from the hard-packed road. merchants wanted to get their goods to market as quickly as possible. now and then they saw a caravan of tinkers, too, their boxy wagons as bright as anything in the show except for luca’s wagon. all of them were headed toward ebou dar, oddly enough, but then, they moved as slowly as luca.

tall, other things just as odd and all made of wood. setting the lantern on the ground, she placed the capped pole in the rack and took a square wooden box from a shelf. “i suppose now you want to learn how to make the secret powders, yes? well, i did promise. i am the guild, now,” she added bitterly, removing

a shelf. “i suppose now you want to learn how to make the secret powders, yes? well, i did promise. i am the guild, now,” she added bitterly, removing the box’s lid. it was an odd box, a solid piece of wood drilled with holes, each of which held a thin stick. she plucked out one and replaced the lid. “i

want to learn how to make the secret powders, yes? well, i did promise. i am the guild, now,” she added bitterly, removing the box’s lid. it was an odd box, a solid piece of wood drilled with holes, each of which held a thin stick. she plucked out one and replaced the lid. “i can decide what is secret.” “better

it around anyone else. a secret, remember.” “the guild has been my life since i was a girl.” she scraped one of the sticks quickly down the side of the box, and the thing sputtered into flame! it smelled of sulphur. “the dragons, they are my life now. the dragons, and revenge on the seanchan.” bending, she touched the flame to

olver oohed, and noal gave a soft sigh of relief. mat began removing the black and white stones from the board on the table, placing them in two carved wooden boxes. the dice in his head bounced and rattled even when the thunder was loudest. “another game, thom?” the white-haired man looked up from his letter. “i think not, mat. my

he’d go looking for it one day. somewhere along the shadow coast, he said.” “that’s still a lot of ground to search.” mat fitted the lid on one of the boxes. “it could take years.” years they did not have if tuon was right, and he was sure that she was. thom shook his head. “she says you know, mat. ‘mat

floor, but the captain was already turning away. “will you follow me, banner-general?” his study might have been a bedroom originally, but now it held a writing table with flat boxes full of papers and another table, larger, that was covered with maps weighted down by inkwells, stones and small brass figures. a wooden rack against one wall held rolls that

big eyes were hard enough to belong on a fierce predator, especially when she took in aviendha. there was bad blood, there. a tattooed hand raised the gold piercework scent box hanging on a chain about chanelle’s neck, and she inhaled the sharp, spicy scent deeply, as though covering some foul odor. aviendha laughed out loud, which made chanelle’s full lips

intricate knot. both women wore the long white mourning stoles for nesta din reas, yet renaile must have felt nesta’s death most keenly. she was carrying a carved wooden writing box with a capped ink jar set in one corner and a sheet of paper with a few scrawled lines clipped to its top. wings of white in her black hair

heart. “as you command,” she murmured, her face a dark mask. she did not delay in obeying, setting out at a trot the way she had come with the writing box tucked under her arm. still fighting the desire to strike chanelle and weep at the same time, elayne winced. this was not the first time the sea folk had gone

slippery, damaging herself was more a possibility than ever—yet she changed what was on the table every day, picking out pieces at random from the panniers kept in the apartment’s boxroom, just so she could look at them and speculate on what she had learned before getting with child. not that she had learned very much—well, nothing, really—but she could think

for a moment, and every time she had an answer. delivered hesitantly and with cautions that it was only a surmise, but always an answer. she thought a small hinged box, apparently ivory and covered with rippling red and green stripes, held music, hundreds of tunes, perhaps thousands. with a ter’angreal, that might be possible. after all, a fine music box

box, apparently ivory and covered with rippling red and green stripes, held music, hundreds of tunes, perhaps thousands. with a ter’angreal, that might be possible. after all, a fine music box might have cylinders for as many as a hundred tunes and some could play quite long pieces on one cylinder after another without changing them. a flattish white bowl almost

fine thing when it enhanced your bargaining power, but only a fool went looking for fights. the illianers’ clerk, a weedy, graying fellow and also illianer, unlocked their iron-strapped coin box under the watchful eyes of their two bodyguards, bulky men with those odd beards that left the upper lip bare, in leather coats sewn with steel discs. each carried a

would be lighter than others, yet he was willing to accept the inevitable loss—the illianers carefully gathered up the stones, sorting them into washleather purses that went into the coin box. he offered them more wine, but the stout man declined politely, and they departed with the bodyguards carrying the iron-strapped box between them. how they were to protect anything burdened

them into washleather purses that went into the coin box. he offered them more wine, but the stout man declined politely, and they departed with the bodyguards carrying the iron-strapped box between them. how they were to protect anything burdened so was beyond him. kayacun was far from a lawless town, but there were more footpads abroad than usual of late,

of crime, not to mention madness of the sort a man just did not want to think on. still, the gems were the illianers’ concern now. ruthan had aldragoran’s coin box open—a pair of bearers were waiting outside to carry it—but he sat staring at the letters-of-rights and the purses. half again what he had expected to get. light coins from

slowly as the carts and wagons, most drawn by large oxen. porters trudged along, their bundles slung beneath poles carried on two men’s shoulders, and apprentices carried rolled carpets and boxes of the masters’ handiwork on their backs. hawkers cried their wares from trays or handbarrows, pins and ribbons, a few with roasted nuts and meat pies, and tumblers or jugglers

you’re thinking of any impropriety, master saranche,” nynaeve said indignantly, tugging at the braid hanging from the cowl of her cloak, “you had best think twice and again. before i box your ears.” min hissed softly, and one hand drifted toward her other wrist before she checked the motion. light, but she was quick to reach for her knives! “what impropriety?”

the space. the walls seemed to close in on rand. his chest suddenly felt tight. every breath came with difficulty. the bond was suddenly full of sympathy and concern. the box, lews therin panted. have to get out of the box! keeping his eyes on the windows—being able to see the stone was a necessity, and seeing open air between the

his chest suddenly felt tight. every breath came with difficulty. the bond was suddenly full of sympathy and concern. the box, lews therin panted. have to get out of the box! keeping his eyes on the windows—being able to see the stone was a necessity, and seeing open air between the dragon and the stone, the open air above, loosened his

waist-long white mourning stoles that all but hid their many necklaces, as did she and shalon. “the welcome of my ship to you, wavemistress,” the sailmistress said, sniffing her scent box, “and the grace of the light be upon you until you leave his decks. the others await you in the great cabin.” “the grace of the light be upon you

foolish woman. did she not know she should have served the mistress of the ships first and then followed with the wavemistresses by seniority? zaida toyed with her piercework scent box, hanging on a very heavy golden chain around her neck. she wore a wide, close-fitting collar of heavy gold links, too, a gift from elayne of andor. “he comes from

ran to zaida, her bare feet slapping the deck. bending close, she whispered into the shipmistress’s ear. zaida’s face slowly took on a look of horror. she half-raised her scent box, then shuddered and let it fall to her bosom. “send her in,” she said. “send her in immediately. there is news to make an anchor weep,” she went on as

many days, had she cried since learning of this catastrophe? “how?” pelanna demanded when the keening died. face distraught, she leaned forward in her chair. she was holding her scent box to her nose as if the scent could somehow ward off the stench of this news. “some sickness? speak, woman!” “poison, wavemistress,” cemeille replied. she struggled to compose herself, but

with the light of the power. as if they were in any danger surrounded by other aes sedai. she found herself with a strong urge to walk around the pavilion boxing ears. that was impossible, of course. even if custom could be set aside, which she had no desire to do, a chair in the hall gave no authority for such

that was because they were trying to take their cues from the sisters, but she suspected sharina’s hand again. what was she to do about the woman? inside, eighteen cloth-covered boxes, colored for the six ajahs represented in the camp, made platforms for polished benches, two slanting rows atop the layered carpets, widening toward a box covered with stripes in all

the woman? inside, eighteen cloth-covered boxes, colored for the six ajahs represented in the camp, made platforms for polished benches, two slanting rows atop the layered carpets, widening toward a box covered with stripes in all seven colors. wisely, egwene had insisted on including red despite considerable opposition. where elaida seemed determined to divide every ajah from every other, egwene was

elaida and accept her penance? light, what else have you betrayed? everything?” it seemed likely. she had visited elaida’s study a number of times in tel’aran’rhiod, but the woman’s correspondence box had always been empty. now she knew why. sharp spots of red appeared in beonin’s cheeks. “i tell you, i have betrayed n—!” she finished with a strangled grunt and

an executioner once more, cold and stern. pulling his silver-mounted pipe and goatskin tabac pouch from his coat pocket, he thumbed the bowl full and lifted the lid on the box of strikers at his feet. it fascinated him the way fire just sprang up, spikes of it darting in all directions at first, when he scratched the lumpy, red-and-white head

way fire just sprang up, spikes of it darting in all directions at first, when he scratched the lumpy, red-and-white head of a striker down the rough side of the box. he waited until the flame burned away from the head before using it to light his pipe. pulling the taste and smell of sulphur into his mouth once had been

was hot? he bent his head again—this time, she would bloody well need help to stay standing!—but she put a hand against his chest, fending him off. “selucia, fetch the box of ointments i got from mistress luca,” she commanded. selucia went scurrying for tuon’s black-and-white mount. “we don’t have time for that now,” mat said. “i’ll smear on something tonight.”

if much more dangerous, than they had when first begun. which left rolan. and his kissing games. galina had to prove true. she had to. chapter 27 a plain wooden box the midday altaran sun was warm, though a gusting breeze sometimes whipped rand’s cloak. they had been on the hilltop for two hours, now. a great mass of dark clouds

had a luxuriant black beard that fell below the edge of his helmet and a scar down his face. aghan wore thick mustaches like bashere’s and carried a plain wooden box with no lid under his arm. they bowed to bashere, free hands swinging their swords clear. “the house is empty, my lord,” aghan said, “but there’s dried blood staining the

lord. i think whoever lived here is dead. this was sitting by the front door. it didn’t look like it belonged, so i brought it along.” he held out the box for inspection. within lay coiled a’dam and a number of circlets made of segmented black metal, some large, some small. rand started to reach in with his left hand before

“egeanin said she was going to drop the thing in the ocean! we trusted her, and she gave it to somebody to copy!” rand dropped the things back into the box. there were six of the larger circlets, and five of the silvery leashes. semirhage had been prepared no matter who he brought with him. “she really thought she could capture

to stem the flow of blood. men screamed as loudly as the horses. he watched a crossbowman nearby as the fellow bent to fasten the paired hooks of the bulky, boxlike crank, hanging from a strap at the front of his belt, to his crossbow string. as the man straightened, the cord streamed out of the crank, but once he was

streamed out of the crank, but once he was erect, he set the crank on the butt of the upended crossbow, moved a small lever on the side of the box, and began to work the handles. three quick turns with a rough whirring sound, and the string caught on the latch. “into the trees!” the deep voice shouted. “close with

onto her cheek, made renaile’s honor chain look bare. renaile’s face wore an expression of stoic endurance. “i do not appreciate being threatened!” chanelle said angrily, sniffing the golden scent box on its golden chain around her neck. her dark cheeks were flushed. “that guardswoman said if we did not run, she would kick—! never mind what she said, exactly. it

she could not let them know why or elayne would be lost. “what will zaida say if you ruin her bargain with elayne?” chanelle’s tattooed hand half-lifted the piercework scent box to her nose again, then let it fall among her many jeweled necklaces. from what birgitte knew of zaida din parede, she would be more than displeased with anyone who

boards beneath her. they had not bothered to pad the floorboards with a blanket. a wagon, she thought. there seemed to be more than one horse pulling it. the wagon box smelled of old hay so strongly that she wanted to sneeze. her situation seemed hopeless, but birgitte would not fail her. she felt birgitte leap from somewhere miles behind her

bound. and all she could do was wait impatiently. birgitte was coming closer rapidly, yet now she felt anxious to have that bloody web of ropes off her. the wagon box creaked as someone heaved herself in. birgitte. the bond carried a flash of joy. in moments, the ropes fell away from her and birgitte’s hands went to the knot of

the thing and lit another while telling the sling-men to be faster, she was getting low on strikers. light, but she was tight with the things. she had five more boxes that mat knew of. as each man turned away from her, he put the smoking slow-match between his teeth and secured one of the cylinders to his sling-staff as he

as if arrows were not pelting them, clanging off breastplates and helmets. and sometimes not. men fell. the three ranks never lost cohesion, though, as they bent into a hollow box with mat at its center. musenge and the other human deathwatch guards had their swords out, and the ogier were hefting their long axes. “sling-men!” mandevwin shouted. “loose at will!

22 to make an anchor weep 23 call to a sitting 24 honey in the tea 25 attending elaida 26 as if the world were fog 27 a plain wooden box 28 in malden 29 the last knot 30 outside the gates 31 the house on full moon street 32 to keep the bargain 33 nine out of ten 34 a

22 to make an anchor weep 23 call to a sitting 24 honey in the tea 25 attending elaida 26 as if the world were fog 27 a plain wooden box 28 in malden 29 the last knot 30 outside the gates 31 the house on full moon street 32 to keep the bargain 33 nine out of ten 34 a

'box' 58
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delta perch on the dockhead. “and leane. egwene spoke to siuan’s dreams. she refuses any attempt at a rescue.” myrelle gave her a sidelong glance, unreadable, but siuan could have boxed her ears! likely lelaine would have been the next she sought out, but to tell her in her own way, not spilled out on the wharf like this. of late,

you’re thinking of any impropriety, master saranche,” nynaeve said indignantly, tugging at the braid hanging from the cowl of her cloak, “you had best think twice and again. before i box your ears.” min hissed softly, and one hand drifted toward her other wrist before she checked the motion. light, but she was quick to reach for her knives! “what impropriety?”

ran to zaida, her bare feet slapping the deck. bending close, she whispered into the shipmistress’s ear. zaida’s face slowly took on a look of horror. she half-raised her scent box, then shuddered and let it fall to her bosom. “send her in,” she said. “send her in immediately. there is news to make an anchor weep,” she went on as

with the light of the power. as if they were in any danger surrounded by other aes sedai. she found herself with a strong urge to walk around the pavilion boxing ears. that was impossible, of course. even if custom could be set aside, which she had no desire to do, a chair in the hall gave no authority for such

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The Gathering Storm - Robert Jordan.txt

arad doman 8 clean shirts 9 leaving malden 10 the last of the tabac 11 the death of adrin 12 unexpected encounters 13 an offer and a departure 14 a box opens 15 a place to begin 16 in the white tower 17 questions of control 18 a message in haste 19 gambits 20 on a broken road 21 embers and

this, old friend,” thulin said. “this ain’t the sort of storm you ignore.” “thulin?” renald asked. “what are you talking about?” before he could answer, gallanha called from the wagon box. “did you tell him about the pots?” “ah,” thulin said. “gallanha polished up that set of copper-bottom pots that your wife always liked. they’re sitting on the kitchen table, waiting

the chicken crates tied to the sides of his vehicle. renald caught up to him, reaching out a hand, but gallanha distracted him. “here, renald,” she said from the wagon box. “take these.” she held out a basket of eggs, one lock of golden hair straying from her bun. renald reached over to take the basket. “give these to auaine. i

“this isn’t art, cadsuane,” rand said dryly. “it’s torture.” min shared a glance with him, and he felt her concern. concern for him? he wasn’t the one being tortured. the box, lews therin whispered. we should have died in the box. then . . . then it would be over. cadsuane sipped her wine. rand hadn’t tasted his—he already knew that

shared a glance with him, and he felt her concern. concern for him? he wasn’t the one being tortured. the box, lews therin whispered. we should have died in the box. then . . . then it would be over. cadsuane sipped her wine. rand hadn’t tasted his—he already knew that the spices were so strong as to render the drink

allowed to—” “no!” rand growled, waving a hand . . . a stump . . . at her. “you will not threaten or hurt her.” time spent in a dark box, being pulled forth and being beaten repeatedly. he would not have a woman in his power treated the same way. not even one of the forsaken. “you may question her,

the ageless quality that marked her as aes sedai. she was pleasant, for an aes sedai, despite the fact that she had helped kidnap rand and lock him in a box for days, to be pulled out only for the occasional beating. in the back of his mind, lews therin growled. that was past. elza had sworn. that was enough to

turn, then focused on ituralde. “rodel ituralde?” he asked. what accent was that? andoran? “yes,” ituralde said cautiously. the young man nodded. “bashere’s description was accurate. you appear to be boxing yourself in, here. do you honestly expect to hold against the seanchan army? they are many times your size, and your tarabon allies do not appear . . . eager

be meidani,” a woman’s voice said from inside the room, “come to report on her meeting with the girl. adsalan?” the warder stepped aside, revealing a small chamber set with boxes for chairs. it held four women, all aes sedai. and, shockingly, each was of a different ajah! egwene hadn’t seen women of four different ajahs so much as walk together

with a thump. the room was lit by a pair of lamps that didn’t give quite enough light, as if to complement the conspiratorial nature of the women’s conference. the boxes might as well have been thrones for the way the four sitters occupied them, and so egwene sat herself on one as well. “you were not given leave to sit,

his saddle. there was only one place he could think to go for help in rescuing egwene. with a kick of the heels, he left dorlan behind. chapter 14 a box opens “so this is one of the shadowsouled,” sorilea said. the white-haired wise one circled around the prisoner, looking thoughtfully at semirhage. of course, cadsuane had not expected fear from

she kept some gold and other relatively worthless items in it. her most precious possessions she either wore—in the form of her ter’angreal ornaments—or kept locked in a dingy-looking document box that sat on her mirror stand. of worn oak, the stain uneven, the box had enough dings and dents to look used—but wasn’t so shabby as to be out of

possessions she either wore—in the form of her ter’angreal ornaments—or kept locked in a dingy-looking document box that sat on her mirror stand. of worn oak, the stain uneven, the box had enough dings and dents to look used—but wasn’t so shabby as to be out of place with her other things. as sorilea closed the door behind the three of

dents to look used—but wasn’t so shabby as to be out of place with her other things. as sorilea closed the door behind the three of them, cadsuane disarmed the box’s traps. it was strange to her how few aes sedai learned to innovate with the one power. they memorized time-tested and traditional weaves, but gave barely a thought for what

a thought for what else they could do. true, experimenting with the one power could be disastrous, but many simple extrapolations could be made without danger. her weave for this box was one such. until recently, she’d used a standard weave of fire, spirit and air to destroy any documents in the box if an intruder opened it. effective, if a

be made without danger. her weave for this box was one such. until recently, she’d used a standard weave of fire, spirit and air to destroy any documents in the box if an intruder opened it. effective, if a bit unimaginative. her new weave was much more versatile. it didn’t destroy the items in the box—cadsuane wasn’t certain if they could

destroy any documents in the box if an intruder opened it. effective, if a bit unimaginative. her new weave was much more versatile. it didn’t destroy the items in the box—cadsuane wasn’t certain if they could be destroyed. instead, the weaves—inverted to be invisible—sprang out in twisting threads of air and captured anyone in the room when the box was opened.

in the box—cadsuane wasn’t certain if they could be destroyed. instead, the weaves—inverted to be invisible—sprang out in twisting threads of air and captured anyone in the room when the box was opened. then another weave set out a large sound, imitating a hundred trumpets playing while lights flashed in the air to give the alarm. the weaves would also go

set out a large sound, imitating a hundred trumpets playing while lights flashed in the air to give the alarm. the weaves would also go off if anyone opened the box, moved it, or barely touched it with the most delicate thread of the one power. cadsuane flipped up the lid. the extreme precaution was necessary. for inside this box were

the box, moved it, or barely touched it with the most delicate thread of the one power. cadsuane flipped up the lid. the extreme precaution was necessary. for inside this box were two items that presented very serious danger. sorilea walked over, looking in at the contents. one was a figurine of a wise, bearded man holding aloft a sphere, about

something to you, you had to discover how to counter it. even if that meant leashing yourself. al’thor couldn’t see this. when she asked, he simply muttered about “that bloody box” and being beaten. “we have to do something about that man,” sorilea said, meeting cadsuane’s eyes. “he has grown worse since we last met.” “he has,” cadsuane said. “he’s surprisingly

ourselves on being able to make others do as they should, all the while letting them think it was their idea? when in the past have we locked kings in boxes and beaten them for disobedience? why now—of all the times under the light—have we forsaken our fine practice and become simple footpads instead?” ferane selected a walnut. the other two

had said. “it was idle talk,” elaida said. “just speculation, thoughts spoken out loud.” “there is often truth in speculation,” egwene said. “you locked the dragon reborn himself in a box; you just threatened to do the same to me, in front of all of these witnesses. people call him a tyrant, but you are the one destroying our laws and

mat said. “and while we’re at it, we’re going to resupply. if my luck’s with me, we’ll do it for free.” if egwene or nynaeve had been there, they’d have boxed his ears and told him he was going to do no such thing. tuon probably would have looked at him curiously and then said something that made him feel his

i had forgotten how satisfying that is.” the pain was like a million ants burrowing through his skin and down to the bone. he twisted, muscles spasming. we’re in the box again! lews therin cried. and suddenly, he was. he could see it, the black confines, crushing him. his body sore from repeated beatings, his mind frantic to remain sane. lews

pain. it shocked him, and something inside of him whimpered, but he gave no outward reaction. not because he held the screams in, but because he couldn’t feel anything. the box, the two wounds in his side corrupting his own blood, beatings, humiliation, sorrows and his own suicide. killing himself. he could suddenly and starkly remember that. after all of these

protected and hidden.” “well, then,” cadsuane said, unnerved. she covered the things back up. “that is settled then.” “it is. i sent people to your room. tell me, is this box where you were keeping the bracelets? we found it open on the floor of your quarters.” a maiden brought out a familiar oak box. it was the same one, obviously.

your room. tell me, is this box where you were keeping the bracelets? we found it open on the floor of your quarters.” a maiden brought out a familiar oak box. it was the same one, obviously. cadsuane turned toward him in anger. “you searched my room!” “i was unaware that you were visiting the wise ones,” al’thor said. he gave

hesitantly returned. “i sent servants to check on you, as i feared that semirhage might have tried for revenge on you.” “they shouldn’t have touched this,” cadsuane said, taking the box from the maiden. “it was prepared with very intricate wards.” “not intricate enough,” al’thor said, turning away from her. he still stood by that darkened window, looking out over the

prepared the best ward she knew, but who knew what knowledge the forsaken had for getting past wards? how had al’thor survived? and what of the other contents of that box? did al’thor now have the access key, or had the statuette been taken by semirhage? did cadsuane dare ask? the silence continued. “what are you waiting for?” she finally asked

the group of aiel to march down a large side street. rand continued, list still running through his mind. the buildings here were tall and square, with the shape of boxes stacked atop one another. many of them had balconies, packed with people, like the boardwalks beneath. each name on rand’s list pained him, but that pain was a strange, distant

give a man ten cows, and he was likely to think himself rich—then let all ten starve for lack of attention. she clomped down the boardwalk, passing bannered buildings like boxes stacked atop one another. she wasn’t particularly pleased to be in bandar eban again. she had nothing against the domani; she just preferred cities that weren’t so crowded. and with

not the turn of the crank itself, but the necessity of lowering the crossbow each time. it cost four seconds just to move the weapon about. these new cranks and boxes that talmanes had learned to make from that mechanic in murandy sped things up greatly. but the mechanic had been on his way to sell the cranks in caemlyn, and

who knew who else had bought them along the way? before too long, everyone might have them. an advantage was negated if both you and your enemies had it. those boxes had given a lot to mat’s success in altara against the seanchan. he was loath to surrender the advantage. could he find a way to make the bows fire even

must do,” he said, not looking at her. “think about it some more,” min said. “at least take some advice. we can ask cadsuane, or—” “cadsuane held me in a box, min,” he said very softly. his face was clasped in shadow, but as he turned toward her, his eyes reflected the light from the open gateway. orange and red. there

of anger to his tone. i shouldn’t have mentioned cadsuane, she realized. the woman’s name was one of the few things that could still get emotion out of him. “a box, min,” rand whispered. “though cadsuane’s box had walls that were invisible, it was as binding as any that ever held me. her tongue was far more painful a rod than

shouldn’t have mentioned cadsuane, she realized. the woman’s name was one of the few things that could still get emotion out of him. “a box, min,” rand whispered. “though cadsuane’s box had walls that were invisible, it was as binding as any that ever held me. her tongue was far more painful a rod than any that was taken to my

told me that the second failure came from a flaw in callandor itself. it cannot be controlled by a lone man, you see. it only works if he’s in a box. callandor is a carefully enticing leash, intended to make me surrender willingly.” the access key’s globe burst alight with a more brilliant color, seeming crystalline. the light within was scarlet,

that?” egwene shook her head. “it just occurred to me. this is what it must have been like for rand. no, worse. the stories say he was locked in a box smaller than my cell. at least i can spend part of the evenings chatting with you. he had nobody. he was without the belief that his beatings meant something.” light

in jagged patches. an overgrown road meandered through the trees to her right; the colorful wagons sat in a ring around the fire. bright paints colored the sides of the boxy vehicles, which had roofs and walls like tiny buildings. oxen did not reflect in the world of dreams, but plates, cups and spoons appeared, then vanished from places beside the

about a mile out around the city. “they will know we’ve come,” rand said softly, eyes narrowed. “they’ll have been waiting for it. they expect me to ride into their box.” “box?” nynaeve asked hesitantly. “the city is a box,” rand said. “the whole city and the area round it. they want me where they can control me, but they don’t

know we’ve come,” rand said softly, eyes narrowed. “they’ll have been waiting for it. they expect me to ride into their box.” “box?” nynaeve asked hesitantly. “the city is a box,” rand said. “the whole city and the area round it. they want me where they can control me, but they don’t understand. nobody controls me. not anymore. i’ve had enough

said. “the whole city and the area round it. they want me where they can control me, but they don’t understand. nobody controls me. not anymore. i’ve had enough of boxes and prisons, of chains and ropes. never again will i put myself into the power of another.” still staring at the city, he reached to its place on his saddle

out in his voice. the thief-taker rode up to the front of the group. the aiel kept their distance, however. “yes, lord rand?” “return to your masters inside of their box,” rand said, voice under control again. “you are to give them a message for me.” “what message, lord rand?” rand hesitated, then slipped the access key back in its place.

the taint. the access key gave rand power well beyond what callandor could provide, and that power came with no strings. the statuette was freedom, but callandor was just another box. yet talk of the choedan kal and their keys was absent from the prophecies. rand found that frustrating, for the prophecies were—in a way—the grandest and most stifling box of

another box. yet talk of the choedan kal and their keys was absent from the prophecies. rand found that frustrating, for the prophecies were—in a way—the grandest and most stifling box of them all. he was trapped inside of them. eventually, they would suffocate him. i told them . . . lews therin whispered. told them what? rand demanded. that the

wall, and nynaeve crossing back and forth before the door like a spotted hound, there was barely room to move. the smooth stone walls made the place feel like a box, and there was only one window, open to the night air, behind cadsuane. light shone from the coals in the hearth and the lamps. the warders were speaking in low

soul raw. that list starting with moiraine. everything had begun to go wrong at her death. before that, he’d still had hope. before that, he’d never been put in a box. he understood what would be required of him, and he’d changed in the ways he thought he needed. those changes were to keep him from being overwhelmed. die to protect

arad doman 8 clean shirts 9 leaving malden 10 the last of the tabac 11 the death of adrin 12 unexpected encounters 13 an offer and a departure 14 a box opens 15 a place to begin 16 in the white tower 17 questions of control 18 a message in haste 19 gambits 20 on a broken road 21 embers and

arad doman 8 clean shirts 9 leaving malden 10 the last of the tabac 11 the death of adrin 12 unexpected encounters 13 an offer and a departure 14 a box opens 15 a place to begin 16 in the white tower 17 questions of control 18 a message in haste 19 gambits 20 on a broken road 21 embers and

arad doman 8 clean shirts 9 leaving malden 10 the last of the tabac 11 the death of adrin 12 unexpected encounters 13 an offer and a departure 14 a box opens 15 a place to begin 16 in the white tower 17 questions of control 18 a message in haste 19 gambits 20 on a broken road 21 embers and

'box' 51
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mat said. “and while we’re at it, we’re going to resupply. if my luck’s with me, we’ll do it for free.” if egwene or nynaeve had been there, they’d have boxed his ears and told him he was going to do no such thing. tuon probably would have looked at him curiously and then said something that made him feel his

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Towers of Midnight - Robert Jordan.txt

frowned. what was he saying? she strained, trying to make sense of the sounds. cursed bird’s earholes—the voices sounded like croaks. callandor? why was he talking about callandor? and a box… something burst alight in his hand. the access key. graendal gasped. he’d brought that with him? it was nearly as bad as balefire. suddenly she understood. she’d been played. cold,

said he angered you,” amys said. “i find his actions odd. he visits you after all his talk of the aes sedai locking him up and putting him in a box?” “he was…different when he came here,” egwene said. “he has embraced death,” bair said again, nodding. “he becomes the car’a’carn truly.” “he spoke powerfully,” egwene said, “but his words were

resent my position above them.” “how did i deal with it when i was wisdom?” nynaeve asked. “egwene, i don’t know if i did. i could barely keep myself from boxing jon thane’s ears half the days, and don’t get me talking about cenn!” “but eventually they respected you.” “it was a matter of not letting them forget my station. they

but they would only have to stand outside an hour before rotating with the men warming inside the gatehouse. three guardsmen sat at a table, throwing dice into a dicing box while an open-fronted iron stove consumed logs and warmed tea. dicing with the four soldiers was a wiry man with a black scarf wrapped around the bottom of his face.

of the asha’man—to the two rivers to prepare and gather them for the last battle. rand stumbled as he walked, suddenly looking very tired. he sat down on a nearby box. a copper-skinned urchin watched him keenly from a nearby doorway. across the street, a roadway branched off the main thoroughfare. that one wasn’t clogged with people; brutish-looking men with cudgels

wounded or sickly, others to take up swords and uniforms. another woman began interrogating the urchins, discovering where their parents were, if they had any. min sat down on the box that rand had been sitting on. within the hour, he had a group of soldiers five hundred strong, led by captain durnham and his two lieutenants. many of those five

she hesitated as she regarded elayne. “her majesty, i think we should prop her up, so that she can see the display.” a few minutes later, they’d located some small boxes to place beneath the litter and elevate elayne so that she could see over the tower’s crenelations. it appeared that something had been constructed on a distant hillside, though it

trap would be watching. if his army tried to escape, the enemy would spring its trap or they’d move the dome. the forsaken had been fooling the shaido with those boxes and had placed them here. and there was his picture, being distributed. was it all part of this trap, whatever it was? dangers. so many dangers hunting him. well, what

measure of needed formality. after all, the trial was happening in a tent on a field with the judge’s chair elevated by what appeared to be a small stack of boxes with a rug thrown over them. “galad,” morgase said. “your men may tell their side of the story.” galad nodded to byar. he stood, and another whitecloak—a young man with

coals to cook it more evenly. from inside her pack, she drew forth several deepearth roots. aviendha’s mother had always cooked those. nakomi placed them in a small ceramic baking box, then slid this into the coals. aviendha hadn’t realized the fire had grown so warm. where had all those coals come from? “you seem troubled,” nakomi said. “far be it

horseback sword forms, but often the most direct and brutal of them. woodsman strips the branch. arc of the moon. striking the spark. his men weren’t faring well. they were boxed in, and there was no longer room for lances. the sallying attacks had worked for a time, but the heavy cavalry had been forced to retreat back to the foot

“yes,” gallenne said. “you positioned us well to help them, but it appears we weren’t enough.” “i’m going down for them,” perrin decided. he pointed. “the trollocs are surrounding him, boxing him in against the hillside. we could sweep down and surprise the beasts with a broadside, breaking through and freeing damodred’s men to get themselves up on the plateau here.”

knew she was manipulating him, but he also accepted that manipulation. she would have to keep a careful watch on him in the years to come. cairhien was such a boxish city, all straight lines and fortified towers. though some of its architecture was beautiful, there was no comparing the place to caemlyn or tar valon. they rode directly in through

something within him became disjointed. he was coming into the wolf dream too strongly; to try to control this place absolutely was like trying to contain a wolf in a box. he cried out, falling to his knees. the misty not-hopper vanished in a puff and the clouds crashed back into place. lightning exploded above him and the black spots flooded

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frowned. what was he saying? she strained, trying to make sense of the sounds. cursed bird’s earholes—the voices sounded like croaks. callandor? why was he talking about callandor? and a box… something burst alight in his hand. the access key. graendal gasped. he’d brought that with him? it was nearly as bad as balefire. suddenly she understood. she’d been played. cold,

resent my position above them.” “how did i deal with it when i was wisdom?” nynaeve asked. “egwene, i don’t know if i did. i could barely keep myself from boxing jon thane’s ears half the days, and don’t get me talking about cenn!” “but eventually they respected you.” “it was a matter of not letting them forget my station. they

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A Memory of Light - Robert Jordan.txt

let you pull all of us into this. listen to reason. the white tower should be guiding you here.” “i’ve known the white tower’s guidance, egwene,” he replied. “in a box, beaten each day.” the two locked eyes across the table. nearby, other arguments continued. “i don’t mind signing this,” tenobia said. “it looks fine to me.” “bah!” gregorin snarled. “you

flank elayne’s force—but the band of the red hand had already set up the dragons on the road. talmanes stood with hands clasped behind his back atop a pile of boxes, overlooking his force. the banner of the red hand flapped behind him, a bloody palm stamped on a field of red-fringed white, with aludra yelling out measurements, aiming instructions and

clothing. keep it safe, should it be needed.” she seemed doubtful it ever would be. mat opened his mouth to complain further, and then one of the da’covale opened a box. jewelry shone inside it. rubies, emeralds, firedrops. mat’s breath caught in his throat. there was a fortune in there! he was so stunned that he almost did not notice that

to the east and west of cairhien, singeing away dead weeds and casting smoke into the air. some of the trolloc army had pulled back, but many others had perished, boxed in, with the walled city on one side and lava on others. it would be some time before the fades could organize the survivors to resume their attacks on elayne’s

for a time. “where?” she finally asked. “tar valon?” gawyn asked. “no,” mat said. “they’d just besiege it and move on. it can’t be a city where we can get boxed in. we need a territory that will work in our favor, also a land that can’t feed the trollocs.” “well, a place in the borderlands should work for that,” elayne

lay on her stomach beside faile. mandevwin was on her other side, peering through his own looking glass. “it’s a central supply station,” faile explained, looking over the stacks of boxes and bundles of arrows. “shadowspawn can’t move through gateways, but their supplies can. they needn’t have carried arrows and replacement weapons as part of the invasion. instead, the supplies are

of perrin’s wolf guard, but they were being pushed back from the riverbed in droves. they fought on three sides, and another force of trollocs had just swung around to box them in entirely. the banner of ghealdan flew closer to the ruins. arganda held that position along with nurelle and the remnants of the winged guard. if this were any

must hold back this sharan advance, at all cost.” more light flashed from the distant side of the heights. the aes sedai and sharans fought there. cauthon was trying to box the shadow’s forces in. arganda shoved aside his pain, trying to think. what of demandred? arganda could now see another swath of destruction launched from the forsaken. it burned through

plateau that the sharans—what remained of them—were fleeing through gateways. he let them go. when the trollocs atop the heights saw the sharans fleeing, their resistance cracked, and they panicked. boxed in and being swept across the plateau by mat’s combined armies, they had no choice but to flee toward the long slope to the southwest. it had become total mayhem

heard. “do it,” he said. “and thank you.” she took his arm. he felt his fatigue evaporate—felt it get shoved back, like an old quilt being stuffed into a small box. perrin felt invigorated, strengthened. powerful again. he practically leaped as he came to his feet. masuri sagged, sitting down on his bed. perrin flexed his hand, looking down at his

'box' 10
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'ear'+'box' 0
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book | 'box' | 'ear'+'box'
:--|:--|:--
New Spring - Robert Jordan.txt | 9 | 0
The Eye of the World - Robert Jordan.txt | 6 | 0
The Great Hunt - Robert Jordan.txt | 13 | 4
The Dragon Reborn - Robert Jordan.txt | 18 | 1
The Shadow Rising - Robert Jordan.txt | 28 | 7
The Fires of Heaven - Robert Jordan.txt | 56 | 13
Lord of Chaos - Robert Jordan.txt | 45 | 7
A Crown of Swords - Robert Jordan.txt | 32 | 11
The Path of Daggers - Robert Jordan.txt | 36 | 13
Winter's Heart - Robert Jordan.txt | 16 | 4
Crossroads of Twilight - Robert Jordan.txt | 25 | 3
Knife of Dreams - Robert Jordan.txt | 58 | 4
The Gathering Storm - Robert Jordan.txt | 51 | 1
Towers of Midnight - Robert Jordan.txt | 14 | 2
A Memory of Light - Robert Jordan.txt | 10 | 0
total | 417 | 70