Total smooths 1047
Total skirts smoothed 123
Total words 4482758
Skirts smoothed per word 2.74384653376e-05

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New Spring - Robert Jordan.txt

than twenty-five, perhaps less, then a second glance would say a youthful forty-five or fifty and still just short of great beauty, while a third changed it all again. that smooth, ageless face was the mark of aes sedai, to those who knew. to those who did not know, and many did not, her hair would have added to the confusion.

that they did. tamra sighed as if she had been wishing for a different response. taking gitara out of moiraine’s arms, the amyrlin eased her down to the carpet and smoothed her hair. after a moment, she pulled the wide blue stole from gitara’s shoulders, folded it carefully, and laid it over the keeper’s face. “with your permission, mother,” siuan said

still a novice the sisters had cleaned up her language, which had been strongly redolent of the docks and often rough with it, but they still had not managed to smooth away all the edges of her. which was just as well. rough edges were a part of siuan. “when merean says someone is close, she tests within the month, and

polished wooden lapdesk, complete with a thick sheaf of good paper and two good steel-nibbed pens inside. no need for the penknife, she thought ruefully, careful to keep her face smooth. she did not intend to let the groom see her look abashed. at least she had been prepared. the lapdesk also held a tightly stoppered ink jar of heavy glass.

honor with hundreds of others, perhaps thousands, if the other camps were anything like this. light, she had never expected so many women to have given birth! keeping her face smooth, she studied the infant for an instant. she was not an innocent—she had observed horse-breeding and helped at foaling; if you did not know how a thing was done, how

quell most. not even murandians wanted to go too far with women they thought aes sedai, a notion that was spreading fast. it made the lines move a little more smoothly, if not in any way that could be called swift. her eyes kept drifting to the women she saw walking by who were great with child. some paused to look

in mildly. “the way word is spreading, i suspect the cats in seleisin know by now.” from her tone, you could not say whether she agreed with tamra’s decision. meilyn’s smooth face never showed any hint of emotion. her startling blue eyes held serenity as a cup held water. with a dark-gloved hand she carefully adjusted one of her divided skirts,

kind and gentle she was in the general course of things, she never gave a second. moiraine closed her mouth promptly. “you shouldn’t be left to brood,” merean went on. smooth face or no, the way she shifted her shawl to her shoulders spoke of irritation. “some of the girls’ writing is like chicken scratches.” yes, she was definitely upset. when

lidding her eyes for the space of the word. “house damodred has acquired an ill reputation that laman only made worse.” moiraine frowned before she could stop herself, and hurriedly smoothed away the lines hoping that jarna had not noticed. it was true. her father had been alone among his generation in lacking a dark character, men and women alike. the

lamps in iron brackets high on the pale walls, though many crossing corridors lay shrouded in darkness, or with only widely spaced lamps making small lonely pools of light. the smooth stone floor was free of any speck of dust. the way had been prepared for them. the air was cool and dry, and, beyond the faint scuff of their slippers,

her, now. watching for hesitation, for a break in her outward serenity. it was begun, and a break now brought failure. yet it was just outward calm, a mask of smooth features that carried no deeper than her skin. continuing to undress, she carefully folded each garment and placed it in a neat pile atop her belt and pouch. that should

in a plain stone corridor lined with stand-lamps, and the only door, at the far end, stood open on sunlight. in fact, the only way out. behind her was a smooth wall. very strange. she was certain she had never seen this place before. and why was she there…unclothed? only the certainty that she must display absolute calm kept her from

them seeing her naked again. color stained her cheeks once more. it was very hard not to pick up her step. but she concentrated on that, on keeping her face smooth and unruffled however red. stepping through the arch, she turned, ready in case they…. light, where was she? and why was she…unclothed? why was she holding saidar? she released it

moved on one of the branches, a small dark shape on eight legs. a memory drifted up from somewhere, and her breath caught in spite of herself. keeping her face smooth strained her abilities to the utmost. the death’s-head spider came from the aiel waste. how did she know that? its name came from more than the gray marking on its

them, she began to weave faster at that great useless lump. in several places, thin tendrils of smoke rose from blackened spots on the branches. holding her face in a smooth, frozen mask, she wove faster and faster. dozens more spiders died, and more tendrils of smoke rose, some thicker. once the first flame showed, it would spread like the wind.

of the weave she had to complete above all else. after all, however quickly her feet moved, what could be more serene than a court dance, with her face properly smooth, as though she were dancing in the sun palace? she wove the five powers as fast as she could, faster than she had ever woven before, she was certain. in

star, marked out in red tiles beside a burbling marble fountain in a small garden surrounded by a colonnade of thin, fluted columns. she could barely stand, and maintaining a smooth face took her to the limits of her ability. pain throbbed in every part of her. no, agony was a better description than pain. but this was the last. once

the second star. she thought he called after her, that he ran after and plucked at her sleeve, but her mind was a haze from the effort of keeping a smooth face and a steady tread. a stumble, really, but she neither hung back nor hurried. she stepped between the fluted columns, beneath the star, and…. …found herself staggering into a

shawls over silks or fine woolens, their faces ageless masks. so the ritual required. elaida was the red, but moiraine managed to meet the woman’s stern gaze levelly, her features smooth. well, as smooth as she could make them. another hour, or just a little more, and they would be equals, at least to some degree. never again would elaida be

or fine woolens, their faces ageless masks. so the ritual required. elaida was the red, but moiraine managed to meet the woman’s stern gaze levelly, her features smooth. well, as smooth as she could make them. another hour, or just a little more, and they would be equals, at least to some degree. never again would elaida be able to make

the two of them as they turned to face the gaping doorway. “who comes here?” tamra’s voice demanded from within. “moiraine damodred,” moiraine answered clearly, and if her face remained smooth, her heart fluttered. with joy, this time. siuan spoke her own name at the same instant, defiance touching her tone, if only lightly. she insisted that elaida would still find

the passage, submitting myself to the will of the white tower.” “then enter, if you dare, and bind yourself to the white tower.” hand in hand, they entered. together. a smooth face and a steady tread, neither hurrying nor lagging back. the will of the tower awaited them in the flesh. tamra, in pale brocaded blue with the amyrlin’s striped stole

that hardly conformed to the required dignity. this was one argument moiraine had won. siuan gave her a look—it seemed impossible those blue eyes could turn sharp without altering her smooth expression, yet they did—and, gathering her skirts, stepped through with moiraine following behind. side by side they knelt in front of the amyrlin seat. from the velvet cushion aeldra held,

skirts, stepped through with moiraine following behind. side by side they knelt in front of the amyrlin seat. from the velvet cushion aeldra held, tamra took the oath rod, a smooth ivory-white cylinder a foot long and only slightly thicker than moiraine’s wrist. a ter’angreal, the oath rod would bind them to the three oaths, and thus to the tower. for

glow of saidar surrounded tamra, and she touched the oath rod with a thin flow of spirit. moiraine closed her hands around the rod. it felt like glass, only somehow smoother. “under the light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, i vow that i will speak no word that is not true.” the oath settled on her, and suddenly

not they thought about it, everyone knew when they would reach their full strength; the length of time could vary considerably from woman to woman, but it was always a smooth climb in a straight line. “i was frightened, too,” moiraine said with a sigh, “but it is not so simple as you make it sound. at what point does deference

accent, eyeing her up and down. “by your description, the pretty little porcelain doll, you are moiraine.” moiraine stiffened. a…pretty…little…porcelain…doll? it was all she could do to keep her face smooth, to keep her hands from clutching her shawl in fists. the thought of that farm helped. but cetalia’s attention had already left her. “which makes you siuan, no? i am

they had business with the tower, or wanted to present a petition. the two bearers, husky fellows in dark brown coats with their long hair neatly tied back, carried her smoothly through the streets, the lead man crying, “make way for an aes sedai! make way for an aes sedai!” the shouting seemed to impress no one, and perhaps was not

lan moved forward to meet his attackers, he heard the bar drop inside with a muffled thud. relief was distant. he floated in ko’di, one with the sword that came smoothly out of its scabbard. one with the men rushing at him, boots thudding on the hard-packed ground as they bared steel. a lean heron of a fellow darted ahead of

her gray hair ensured that. then, just as moiraine reached the staircase, a woman did speak behind her. “well, now. this is a surprise.” turning quickly, moiraine kept her face smooth with an effort as she made a brief curtsy suitable from a minor noblewoman to an aes sedai. to two aes sedai. short of sierin herself, she could hardly have

circled the three of them slowly, once, twice. merean and larelle exchanged wondering frowns, and larelle opened her mouth, but after one look at cadsuane closed it again. they assumed smooth-faced serenity; any watcher would have thought they knew exactly what was going on. sometimes cadsuane glanced at them, but the greater part of her attention stayed on moiraine. “most new

caught. i doubt any other women have been raised aes sedai while still too tender to sit from their last visit to the mistress of novices.” moiraine kept her face smooth, kept her hands from knotting into fists, but she could do nothing about burning cheeks. that ruefully amused frown, as if she were still accepted. she needed seasoning, did she?

none of the three oaths, but murder using saidar certainly did, even for…. for those moiraine did not want to name any more than siuan did. forcing her face to smoothness, forcing her voice to calm, she forced the words out. “the black ajah.” siuan flinched, then nodded, glowering. almost any sister grew angry at the suggestion that a secret ajah

had struck nothing at all. she performed the same service for the second storm, and both times, she seemed surprised at their offered thanks. her face hardly altered in its smoothness, a very good imitation of an aes sedai’s serene expression, but something flickered about her eyes. a strange woman. they saw bandits, as rumored, usually a pack of ten or

half-healed wounds were now thin pink lines—the stitches that had been on the outside, now loose, slid down his arms and chest; he might have difficulty picking out the rest—but smooth skin marked where the arrowholes had been. he could meet the wasps in perfect health. she could always heal him again afterward, if need be. only if need be, however.

lan on any previous visit. “tai’shar malkier!” oh, yes; if edeyn was not here now, she had been. leading his bay, lan followed jurad through the red arch onto the smooth paving stones of the visitor’s yard feeling as though he should have his sword in hand and his armor on. the balconies of stone fretwork that overlooked the broad courtyard

erect, but she still came no higher than the other woman’s chin. “are you so eager to see cadsuane?” merean said, looking down at her. her voice was pleasant, her smooth face comforting, but her eyes were cold iron. “the last i saw her, she said that next time she met you, she’d spank your bottom till you couldn’t sit for

one of tamra’s chosen. black sisters could lie. had larelle changed her mind about chachin? or was she dead somewhere, like tamra and the others? suddenly she realized she was smoothing her skirts. stilling her hands was easy, but she could not stop herself trembling faintly. elis was staring at her with her mouth open. “you’re aes sedai, too!” the woman

girl, with black hair that fell well below her hips and a small blue dot painted on her forehead about where the stone of moiraine’s kesiera hung. siuan’s face was smooth, but her voice was tight as she made introductions. the lady iselle quickly showed why. “everyone in the palace is saying you are aes sedai,” she said, eyeing moiraine doubtfully.

reach the lady ines as quickly as you can.” “i’ll do what i can,” siuan muttered, and stalked out squaring her shoulders as if for a struggle. but she was smoothing her skirt over her hips, too. moiraine hoped matters were not going to proceed beyond kissing. siuan’s business if it did, but that sort of thing was foolish. especially with

old injuries, tamped down and ignored. she would be able to draw on his strength at need, to find him however far away he was. they were bonded. he rose smoothly, sheathing his sword, studying her. “men who weren’t there call it the battle of the shining walls,” he said abruptly. “men who were, call it the blood snow. no more.

smooths: 41
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in mildly. “the way word is spreading, i suspect the cats in seleisin know by now.” from her tone, you could not say whether she agreed with tamra’s decision. meilyn’s smooth face never showed any hint of emotion. her startling blue eyes held serenity as a cup held water. with a dark-gloved hand she carefully adjusted one of her divided skirts,

that hardly conformed to the required dignity. this was one argument moiraine had won. siuan gave her a look—it seemed impossible those blue eyes could turn sharp without altering her smooth expression, yet they did—and, gathering her skirts, stepped through with moiraine following behind. side by side they knelt in front of the amyrlin seat. from the velvet cushion aeldra held,

skirts, stepped through with moiraine following behind. side by side they knelt in front of the amyrlin seat. from the velvet cushion aeldra held, tamra took the oath rod, a smooth ivory-white cylinder a foot long and only slightly thicker than moiraine’s wrist. a ter’angreal, the oath rod would bind them to the three oaths, and thus to the tower. for

one of tamra’s chosen. black sisters could lie. had larelle changed her mind about chachin? or was she dead somewhere, like tamra and the others? suddenly she realized she was smoothing her skirts. stilling her hands was easy, but she could not stop herself trembling faintly. elis was staring at her with her mouth open. “you’re aes sedai, too!” the woman

reach the lady ines as quickly as you can.” “i’ll do what i can,” siuan muttered, and stalked out squaring her shoulders as if for a struggle. but she was smoothing her skirt over her hips, too. moiraine hoped matters were not going to proceed beyond kissing. siuan’s business if it did, but that sort of thing was foolish. especially with

skirts smoothed: 5
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The Eye of the World - Robert Jordan.txt

tottering, almost falling, he scrabbled brokenly across the floor to her. it took every bit of his strength to pull her up into his arms. his hands shook as he smoothed her hair back from her staring face. “ilyena! light help me, ilyena!” his body curved around hers protectively, his sobs the full-throated cries of a man who had nothing left

with shadow. it was an awkward morning, made for unpleasant thoughts. without thinking he touched the nock of the arrow; it was ready to draw to his cheek in one smooth movement, the way tam had taught him. winter had been bad enough on the farms, worse than even the oldest folk remembered, but it must have been harsher still in

“good morning, mistress . . . ah . . . lady moiraine,” rand said. his face grew hot at his tongue’s fumbling. “good morning, lady moiraine,” mat echoed somewhat more smoothly, but only a little. she smiled, and rand found himself wondering if there was anything he might do for her, something that would give him an excuse to stay near

by a black fancy, if our luck runs sour, maybe in the next few days we’ll be glad i tucked it in that old chest, instead.” he slid the sword smoothly back into its sheath and wiped his hand on his shirt with a grimace. “the stew should be ready. i’ll dish it out while you fix the tea.” rand nodded

and under his arms. when he gripped the shafts and straightened, most of the weight was on his shoulders. it did not seem like very much. trying to keep a smooth pace, he set out for emond’s field, the litter scraping along behind him. he had already decided to make his way to the quarry road and follow that to the

she pulled down the coverings and eased the bandage aside to look at the wound. before rand could see what lay underneath she had replaced the wadded cloth. sighing, she smoothed the blanket and cloak back up to tam’s neck with a gentle touch, as if tucking a child in for the night. “there’s nothing i can do,” she said. she

held. a few stories mentioned angreal, those relics of the age of legends that aes sedai used to perform their greatest wonders. he was startled to see her unwrap a smooth ivory figurine, age-darkened to deep brown. no longer than her hand, it was a woman in flowing robes, with long hair falling about her shoulders. “we have lost the making

myriad flowers, all floated in the air, as if every good smell in the world were gathered there. the street by which he entered the city, broad and paved with smooth, gray stone, stretched straight before him toward the center of the city. at its end loomed a tower larger and taller than any other in the city, a tower as

the trollocs. but i promise i will take care of you.” “perhaps i’ll take care of you,” she replied lightly. at his exasperated look she smiled and bent down to smooth his hair. “i know you’ll look after me, rand. we will look after each other. but now you had better look after getting on your horse.” all of the others

and strike, he did the same for rand and his sword. not the wild leaping about and slashing that rand had in mind whenever he thought about using it, but smooth motions, one flowing into another, almost a dance. “moving the blade is not enough,” lan said, “though some think it is. the mind is part of it, most of it.

no advice from thom. moiraine—what would she do if she knew? he became aware of people staring at him as they passed, and realized he was muttering under his breath. smoothing his coat, he straightened. he had to talk to somebody. the cook had said one of the others had not gone out. it was an effort not to run. when

himself dancing with moiraine. if he had thought he was stumble-footed with the wisdom, it was nothing to how he felt with the aes sedai. she glided across the floor smoothly, her gown swirling about her; he almost fell twice. she gave him a sympathetic smile, which made it worse rather than helping. it was a relief to go to his

moved, and the face. . . . a man’s face, but pasty white, like a slug under a rock, and eyeless. from oily black hair to puffy cheeks was as smooth as an eggshell. rand choked, spraying milk. “you are one of them, boy,” the fade said, a hoarse whisper like a file softly drawn across bone. dropping the mug, rand

grace, like a viper, the resemblance emphasized by the overlapping black plates of armor down its chest. thin, bloodless lips curved in a cruel smile, made more mocking by the smooth, pale skin where eyes should have been. the voice made bornhald’s seem warm and soft. “where are the others? i know they are here. speak, boy, and i will let

among the columns at the top of the stairs. he took half a step forward, raised his hand to shield his eyes, and stepped back again. “forgive me,” he said smoothly. “i have been quite a long time in the dark inside. my eyes are not yet used to the light.” “who are you?” rand thought the man’s accent sounded odd,

trollocs inside the walls,” lan said. “they will be here in little more than an hour. and the dha’vol are the worst of them.” he began waking the others. moiraine smoothly began folding her blankets. “how many? do they know we are here?” she sounded as if there were no urgency at all. “i don’t think they do,” lan replied. “there

side? mat hurriedly said, “we didn’t mean to cause you any trouble. we’re on our way to caemlyn, and then to—” “and then where the wind takes us,” thom interrupted smoothly. “that’s how gleemen travel, like dust on the wind. i am a gleeman, you understand, thom merrilin by name.” he shifted his cloak so the multihued patches stirred, as if

doing what someone else had planned out, and she never let anybody tell her what to do. except maybe the wisdom, and he thought sometimes she balked at that. he smoothed the dirt in front of him with his hand and cleared his throat roughly. “if this is where we are now, and that is whitebridge,” he stabbed the ground twice

one to tell it. she was better with words than he was, and she claimed she could always tell when he was lying by his face. egwene began at once, smoothly. they were from the north, from saldaea, from farms outside a tiny village. neither of them had been more than twenty miles from home in their whole lives before this.

the distance, hollow splashes echoing and reechoing, losing their source forever. there were stone bridges and railless ramps everywhere, all sprouting off from broad, flat-topped stone spires, all polished and smooth and streaked with red and gold. level on level, the maze stretched up and down through the murk, without any apparent beginning or end. every bridge led to a spire,

a moment he thought it had been different, but the thought evaporated in the heat. he had been here a long time. it was dangerous to think, he knew that. smooth stones, pale and rounded, made a sketchy pavement, half buried in the bone-dry dust that rose in puffs at even his lightest step. it tickled his nose, threatening a sneeze

his hand and scattering thick drops of blood. the burn began to subside, but his whole hand throbbed. abruptly he forgot the pain. his heel had overturned one of the smooth stones, kicked it out of the dry ground. he stared at it, and empty eye sockets stared back. a skull. a human skull. he looked along the pathway at all

kicked it out of the dry ground. he stared at it, and empty eye sockets stared back. a skull. a human skull. he looked along the pathway at all the smooth, pale stones, all exactly alike. he shifted his feet hastily, but he could not move without walking on them, and he could not stay still without standing on them. a

pale light. barely breathing, he moved nothing except his eyes. a rough wool blanket covered him to his shoulders, and his head was cradled on his arms. he could feel smooth wooden planks under his hands. deck planks. rigging creaked in the night. he let out a long breath. he was on the spray. it was over . . . for

kings and queens. no two were alike in that royal procession, and long years separated the first from the last. wind and rain had worn those at the north end smooth and almost featureless, with faces and details becoming more distinct as they went south. the river lapped around the statues’ feet, feet washed to smooth nubs, those that were not

those at the north end smooth and almost featureless, with faces and details becoming more distinct as they went south. the river lapped around the statues’ feet, feet washed to smooth nubs, those that were not gone completely. how long have they stood there, rand wondered. how long for the river to wear away so much stone? none of the crew

the two rivers, but this time there were no branches to block his view. everything on deck, the sailors at the sweeps, men on their knees scrubbing the deck with smoothstones, men doing things with lines and hatchcovers, looked so odd when seen from right overhead, all squat and foreshortened, that he had spent an hour just staring at them and

the camp. the seeker’s wagon was yellow trimmed in red, and the spokes of its tall, red-rimmed wheels alternated red and yellow. a plump woman, as gray as raen but smooth-cheeked still, came out of the wagon and paused on the steps at its back end, straightening a blue-fringed shawl on her shoulders. her blouse was yellow and her skirt red,

to become gleemen. it’s only something to hide behind until we find moiraine and the others.” thom tugged at an end of his mustache and seemed to be studying the smooth, dark brown leather of the flute case on his knees. “what if you don’t find them, boy? there’s nothing to say they’re even still alive.” “they’re alive,” rand said firmly.

glance, then bent quickly back to their work. he stopped laughing and tried not to look at the two for the rest of the approach to whitebridge. the spray curved smoothly in beside the first dock, thick timbers sitting on heavy, tar-coated pilings, and stopped with a backing of oars that swirled the water to froth around the blades. as the

black, each one with a name painted on the door in large letters, gold or scarlet. the carriages’ passengers hurried up the gangplank as soon as it dropped in place, smooth-faced men in long velvet coats and silk-lined cloaks and cloth slippers, each followed by a plainly dressed servant carrying his iron-bound moneybox. they approached captain domon with painted smiles that

something as would take their minds off things. i’d even take some off on your room and meals.” unnoticed, rand thought glumly. “you are too generous,” thom said with a smooth bow. “perhaps i will take up your offer. but for now, a little privacy.” “i’ll bring your wine. good money here for a gleeman.” the tables on the far side

here. you want to see him, go to caemlyn. that’s all i know, and if there’s anything to know in whitebridge, i know it.” “no doubt you do,” thom said smoothly. “i expect a lot of strangers passing through stop here. your sign caught my eye from the foot of the white bridge.” “not just from the west, i’ll have you

of the water. he took the axe from the loop on his belt and turned it over in his hands. the ashwood haft was as long as his arm, and smooth and cool to the touch. he hated it. he was ashamed of how proud he had been of the axe back in emond’s field. before he knew what he might

his lips spoiled his act. mat thrust his chin out at jak and strom. “you need those two to show us our beds?” “i’m a man of property,” hake said, smoothing the front of his soiled apron, “and men of property can’t be too careful.” a crash of thunder rattled the windows, and he glanced significantly at the ceiling, then gave

toe. “we’ll sleep there.” “haystacks again.” mat sighed, but he tugged on his boot and got up. the wind was rising, the night chill growing deeper. they climbed over the smooth poles of the fence and quickly were burrowing into the hay. the tarp that kept the rain off the hay cut the wind, too. rand twisted around in the hollow

think. i hope.” he took his hand away; the only sound mat made was a long, indrawn breath. the nervous man was almost to the inn door. he stopped and smoothed down his apron, visibly composing himself before he went inside. “strange friends you’ve got, raimun holdwin,” the man by the cart said suddenly. it was an old man’s voice, but

she held the top of his head with one hand as if she expected him to try to pull away again and would have none of it. the ointment she smoothed on after, from one of her small vials, soothed almost as much as one of nynaeve’s preparations would have. gawyn smiled at him as she worked, a calming smile, as

master gill blinked, and even loial seemed taken aback at his anger. the innkeeper and the ogier looked at each other, and then at the floor. rand forced his expression smooth, drawing deep breaths. for a wonder he found the void that had eluded him so often of late, and calmness. they did not deserve his anger. “you can come, loial,”

the lamps had not yet been lit. sunlight and shadow striped the stairs. perrin’s face was as closed as the others, but where worry creased everyone else’s brow, his was smooth. rand thought the look perrin wore was resignation. he wondered why, and wanted to ask, but whenever perrin walked through a deeper patch of shadow, his eyes seemed to gather

worth seeing outside the stedding. perhaps when i return and tell them what i’ve seen, they will change their minds. i hope so. in time.” “perhaps they will,” moiraine said smoothly. “now, loial, you must forgive me for being abrupt. it is a failing of humankind, i know. my companions and i have urgent need to plan our journey. if you

table, he managed to get the candle lit after three tries, then spread his hand open in the light. driven into his palm was a thick splinter of dark wood, smooth and polished on one side. he stared at it, not breathing. abruptly he was panting, plucking at the splinter, fumbling with haste. “what’s the matter?” mat asked. “nothing.” finally he

pointed to a broad strip of white running under their feet, and rand stepped away from it hastily. all the two rivers folk did. rand thought the floor had been smooth once, but the smoothness was pitted now, as if the stone had the pox. the white line was broken in several places. “this leads from the waygate to the first

strip of white running under their feet, and rand stepped away from it hastily. all the two rivers folk did. rand thought the floor had been smooth once, but the smoothness was pitted now, as if the stone had the pox. the white line was broken in several places. “this leads from the waygate to the first guiding. from there. .

mat said. “ ‘coming home from tarwin’s gap.’ ” he finished hesitantly, as if suddenly realizing that he was bringing up what they had been avoiding, but agelmar handled it smoothly. “little wonder. few lands have not sent men to hold back the blight over the years.” rand looked at mat and perrin. mat silently formed the word manetheren. agelmar whispered

great deal of himself for a peddler,” agelmar said to lan over his shoulder. “i think ingtar is right. he is mad.” fain’s eyes tightened angrily, but his voice remained smooth. “great lord, i know my words must appear grandiose, but if you will only—” he cut off abruptly, stepping back, as moiraine rose and started slowly around the table. only

everyone was hurrying. the seven towers stood plain in the morning light, distant broken stumps, like huge, rough hills that merely hinted at grandeur gone. the hundred lakes were a smooth, unruffled blue. nothing broke the surface this morning. when he looked at the lakes and the ruined towers, he could almost ignore the sickly things growing around the hill. lan

side of a hill. it was a simple stone arch, tall and white, and on the keystone was a circle halved by a sinuous line, one half rough, the other smooth. the ancient symbol of aes sedai. the opening itself was shadowed. for a moment everyone simply looked in silence. then moiraine removed the garland from her hair and gently hung

polished walls rounded overhead like the arch, winding gently downward. there was headroom enough and to spare for loial; there would have been room enough for the green man. the smooth floor, slick to the eye like oiled slate, yet somehow gave a sure footing. seamless, white walls glittered with uncounted flecks in untold colors, giving a low, soft light even

eye, the pool was lined about its rim with a low, flat edging of crystals that glowed with a duller, yet fiercer, light than those above. its surface was as smooth as glass and as clear as the winespring water. rand felt as if his eyes could penetrate it forever, but he could not see any bottom to it. “the eye

each heavier than the one before, hoping there might be some track, a goat path, anything. at the edge he looked down a sheer hundred-foot drop, a stone wall as smooth as planed timber. there has to be some way. i’ll go back and find a way around. go back and— when he turned, aginor was there, just reaching the crest.

the remains of the forsaken. his hands flapped feebly, not making much headway. he tried to use both hands and fell forward. a sheer drop loomed under his face, a smooth rock wall spinning in his eyes, depth pulling him. his head swum, and he vomited over the edge of the cliff. trembling, he crawled backwards on his belly until there

to admit even to himself, fear. it had its face uncovered. its pasty pale face, a man’s face, but eyeless as an egg, like a maggot in a grave. the smooth white face swiveled, regarding them all one by one, it seemed. a visible shiver ran through them under that eyeless look. thin, bloodless lips quirked in what might almost have

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the camp. the seeker’s wagon was yellow trimmed in red, and the spokes of its tall, red-rimmed wheels alternated red and yellow. a plump woman, as gray as raen but smooth-cheeked still, came out of the wagon and paused on the steps at its back end, straightening a blue-fringed shawl on her shoulders. her blouse was yellow and her skirt red,

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The Great Hunt - Robert Jordan.txt

to admit even to himself, fear. it had its face uncovered. its pasty pale face, a man’s face, but eyeless as an egg, like a maggot in a grave. the smooth white face swiveled, regarding them all one by one, it seemed. a visible shiver ran through them under that eyeless look. thin, bloodless lips quirked in what might almost have

lan’s icy blue eyes, hunting for some hint of what the other man intended. the warder never seemed to blink, and the practice sword in his hands moved surely and smoothly as he flowed from one stance to another. with a bundle of thin, loosely bound staves in place of a blade, the practice sword would make a loud clack when

light sending ripples through the stillness. but it was enough, barely. the cool peace of the void crept over him, and he was one with the practice sword, with the smooth stones under his boots, even with lan. all was one, and he moved without thought in a rhythm that matched the warder’s step for step and move for move. the

my grave, if i keep standing here. grabbing his shirt, he scrambled down the ladder and began to run. chapter 2 the welcome the halls of fal dara keep, their smooth stone walls sparsely decorated with elegantly simple tapestries and painted screens, bustled with news of the amyrlin seat’s imminent arrival. servants in black-and-gold darted about their tasks, running to prepare

like this. to a woman, they seemed ageless. from this distance he would have called them all young, but closer he knew they would be like moiraine. young-seeming yet not, smooth-skinned but with faces too mature for youth, eyes too knowing. closer? fool! i’m too close already! burn me, i should have gone the long way. he pressed on toward his

fal dara and all her people.” agelmar bowed again. “you honor us, mother.” it did not sound odd, her calling him son or him calling her mother, though comparing her smooth cheeks to his craggy face made him seem more like her father, or even grandfather. she had a presence that more than matched his. “house jagad is yours. fal dara

the slots in the stone for setting hoardings, down the sheer expanse of stone to the drymoat far below. twenty paces wide and ten deep, faced with stone polished slippery smooth. a low wall, slanted to give no hiding place, surrounded it to keep anyone from falling in by accident, and its bottom was a forest of razor-sharp spikes. even with

never expected to wear the shawl in fal dara. but for an audience with the amyrlin, there were proprieties to observe. she was slender and not at all tall, and smooth-cheeked aes sedai agelessness often made her appear younger than she was, but moiraine had a commanding grace and calm presence that could dominate any gathering. a manner ingrained growing up

frowning, she tried to look over moiraine’s shoulder into the room. “this chamber, it is warded. we cannot enter. why do you ward against your sisters?” “against all,” moiraine replied smoothly. “many of the serving women are curious about aes sedai, and i do not want them pawing through my rooms when i am not here. there was no need to

ajah gains in the white tower from finding elayne.” the amyrlin nodded as if it were all of no consequence. moiraine’s eyebrows lifted in surprise before she caught herself and smoothed her features. those were the two main concerns in the hall of the tower, that fewer girls who could be trained to channel the one power were found every year,

. channel the one power?” her mouth strained around the words, and moiraine felt the tension, too, a twisting inside, a cold clutching at her heart. she kept her face smooth, though. “he can.” a man wielding the one power. that was a thing no aes sedai could contemplate without fear. it was a thing the whole world feared. and i

off with a surprised widening of her eyes. the others turned to see what she was staring at, and silence replaced laughter. all but amalisa scrambled to their feet, hastily smoothing hair and skirts. the lady amalisa rose gracefully, with a smile. “you honor us with your presence, liandrin. this is a most pleasant surprise. i did not expect you until

gone, and yet. . . . the door closed behind leane and the litter bearers, and the amyrlin drew an unsteady breath. “a nasty business that. nasty.” her face was smooth, but she rubbed her hands together as if she wanted to wash them. “but quite interesting,” verin said. she had been the fourth aes sedai the amyrlin had chosen for

in her brown hair. that was her only sign of age, but for an aes sedai it meant she was very old indeed. her voice held steady, though, matching her smooth cheeks. “he has been linked to the dagger a long time, however, as a thing like that must be reckoned. and he will be linked longer yet, whether it is

blight. who isam is, or what he has to do with luc, i do not know, however.” “we will find out what we need to know in time,” moiraine said smoothly. “there is no proof as yet that this is prophecy.” she knew the name. isam had been the son of breyan, wife of lain mandragoran, whose attempt to seize the

the other two, one of the white ajah and one yellow by their fringe. he remembered their faces, though, staring at him as he had run through these same halls. smooth aes sedai faces, with knowing eyes. they studied him with arched eyebrows and pursed lips. the women who had brought lan and rand curtsied, handing them over to the aes

equilibrium. “so,” the amyrlin seat said, “you have some fire in you besides whatever lan put in. good. you will need it.” “i am what i am, mother,” he managed smoothly enough. “i stand ready for what comes.” the amyrlin seat grimaced. “lan has been at you. listen to me, boy. in a few hours, ingtar will leave to find the

from falling on his face. the void was gone, the stillness shattered. he raised his head, and they were looking at him, the three aes sedai. their faces were serene, smooth as unruffled ponds, but their eyes did not blink. “my father is tam al’thor, and i was born. . . .” they stared at him, unmoving. they’re lying. i am

jumped when she found herself face-to-face with moiraine. “how long have you been there?” she demanded. “not long enough to hear anything i should not have,” the aes sedai replied smoothly. “we will be leaving soon. i heard that. you must see to your packing.” leaving. it had not penetrated when lan said it. “i will have to say goodbye to

the shopkeeper had never dared add that to what he thought were lies. no riverfront shopkeeper in maradon could afford even one piece of cuendillar. the disk felt hard and smooth in his hand, and not at all valuable except for its age, but he was afraid it was what his pursuers were after. lightsticks, and ivory carvings, and even bones

last, reluctantly, ingtar called a halt to make camp for the night in the forest. the shienarans went about getting fires started and setting picket-lines for the horses with a smooth economy of effort born of long experience. ingtar posted six guards, in pairs, for the first watch. rand’s first order of business was finding his bundle in the wicker panniers

have let him leave fal dara if she even suspected. but she was sure she had not imagined what she saw. “thank you, verin sedai. i will try.” nynaeve rose smoothly to her feet. “i will go sit by the fire and leave you two alone.” “you should stay,” verin said. “you could profit by it. from what moiraine has told

perhaps thousands, of deeply incised diagrams and markings in some language he did not recognize. white stone paved the bottom of the hollow, as level as a floor, polished so smooth it almost glistened. broad, high steps rose to the rim in concentric rings of different colored stone. and about the rim, the trees stood blackened and twisted as if a

his mind almost the way the void did. loial ran his big hands along the trunk, singing, caressing with his voice as well as his fingers. the trunk now seemed smoother, somehow, as if his stroking were shaping it. rand blinked. he was sure the piece loial worked on had had branches at its top just like the others, but now

“burn me, i never heard anything like. . . . burn me.” in his hands loial held a staff as tall as he was and as thick as rand’s forearm, smooth and polished. where the trunk had been on the giantsbroom was a small stem of new growth. rand took a deep breath. always something new, always something i didn’t expect,

said it was weak to start. if we can’t find the darkfriends, we will find another stone and get back that way.” light, anything but that. rand kept his face smooth. “if darkfriends can come here and leave, so can we.” “oh, i haven’t lost it, lord rand. i can still pick out the stink of them. it isn’t that. it’s

gloved in black, with a black silk mask covering his face, and the shadow came with it. his staff was black, too, as if the wood had been charred, yet smooth and shining like water by moonlight. for an instant the eyeholes of the mask glowed, as if fires stood behind them rather than eyes, but rand did not need that

to the black mask. “no!” the mask came away. it was a man’s face, horribly burned. yet between the black-edged, red crevices crossing those features, the skin looked healthy and smooth. dark eyes looked at rand; cruel lips smiled with a flash of white teeth. “look at me, kinslayer, and see the hundredth part of your own fate.” for a moment

keep you out of danger, but we must find them. coming with us will be better than staying here alone.” for a moment she was silent, her face blank and smooth; rand had no idea what she was thinking, except that she seemed to be studying him anew. “a man of duty,” she said finally. a small smile touched her lips.

thing was i killed—a grolm?—there may be more of them around.” her hand was firm—there was surprising strength in her grip—and her skin was. . . . silk? something softer, smoother. rand shivered. “there always are,” selene said. the tall white mare frisked and bared her teeth once at red, yet selene’s touch on the reins quieted her. rand slung his

at the others, and they circled wide. but they came on, and as if compelled, it abandoned its meal and leaped after them, its horny maw already bloody. rand worked smoothly, unconsciously, nock and release. nock and release. the fifth arrow left his bow, and he lowered it, still deep in the void, as the fourth grolm fell like a huge

the light, wavering in a way that turned his stomach. emptiness except for saidin. but even the queasiness was distant. he was one with the portal stone. the column felt smooth and slightly oily under his hand, but the triangle-and-circle seemed warm against the brand on his palm. have to get them to safety. have to get them home. the light

brought all of us home.” for the first time rand became aware of his surroundings again. the hollow surrounded them without any stairs, though here and there lay a suspiciously smooth piece of stone, colored red, or blue. the column lay against the mountainside, half buried in the loose rock of a fall. the symbols were unclear, here; wind and water

moonlight the widening of his eyes was plain. rand heard selene sigh behind him. he stepped away from her, still not looking at her. her legs are so white, so smooth. “what is it, hurin?” he made his voice more moderate; was he angry with hurin, himself, or selene? no reason to be angry with her. “did you see something, hurin?”

commanded. saidin called to him. “run!” he was dimly aware of loial lumbering to an awkward gallop, but another trolloc loomed from the night, boar-snouted and tusked, spiked axe raised. smoothly rand glided between trolloc and ogier; loial must get the horn away. head and shoulders taller than rand, half again as wide, the trolloc came at him with a silent

could burn them all, burn fain and all the rest to cinders. no! two more trollocs, wolf and ram, gleaming teeth and curling horns. lizard in the thornbush. he rose smoothly from one knee as the second toppled, horns almost brushing his shoulder. the song of saidin caressed him with seduction, pulled him with a thousand silken strings. burn them all

said softly, “are you an aes sedai?” “aes sedai,” she almost spat, flinging his hands away. “aes sedai! always you hurl that at me!” she took a deep breath and smoothed her dress, as if gathering herself. “i am what and who i am. and i am no aes sedai!” and she wrapped herself in a silent coldness that made even

of the pit slanted a gigantic stone hand holding a crystal sphere, and it was this that shone with the last sunlight. rand gaped at the size of it, a smooth ball—he was sure not so much as a scratch marred its surface—at least twenty paces through. some distance away from the hand, a stone face in proportion had been uncovered.

wondered what had really happened. “you terrified me,” she said in a tight voice, “and i do not frighten easily. you could have killed yourself, killed. . . .” she smoothed her dress. “ride with me. tonight. now. bring the horn, and i will stay by your side forever. think of it. me by your side, and the horn of valere

on a tray. she was slender and graceful, with a straight back, and the hair gathered neatly at the nape of her neck was almost white. the agelessness of her smooth face was that of long, long years. “i would have had jaem bring this, and not disturb you myself, but he’s out in the barn practicing with his sword.” she

be reborn.” her cup rattled as she set it down. “i suppose that is why i feared you might have seen some sign of him.” “he will come,” moiraine said smoothly, “and we will do what must be done.” “if i thought it would do any good, i’d pull adeleas’s nose out of her book and set off for the white

of events coming in their own time. the domed room had been carved out of the bedrock of the island; the light of lamps on tall stands reflected from pale, smooth stone walls. centered under the dome was a thing made of three rounded, silver arches, each just tall enough to walk under, sitting on a thick silver ring with their

nynaeve gave a start when she realized she was naked, then stared in amazement. a stone wall stood to either side of her, twice as tall as she was and smooth, as if carved. her toes wriggled on dusty, uneven stone paving. the sky above seemed flat and leaden, for all the lack of clouds, and the sun hung overhead swollen

end. she came to another. out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flicker of motion. when she turned to look, there was only the dusty passage between smooth stone walls. she started to take the left fork . . . and spun around at another glimpse of movement. there was nothing there, but this time she was sure.

it is, tell me and i will make it right. i know i am not the best of husbands. i was all hard edges when i found you, but you’ve smoothed some of them away, at least.” “you are the very best of husbands,” she murmured. to her horror, she found herself remembering him as her husband, remembering laughter and tears,

summoned her? min had been sure that was a secret known only to her, moiraine, and sheriam. and all those questions about rand. it had not been easy keeping a smooth face and a steady eye while telling an aes sedai to her face that she had never heard of him and knew nothing of him. what does she want with

contrast to the somber colors the people at the tables wore. the innkeeper took in rand’s coat and his sword, and his oily smile came back. he bowed, washing his smooth hands. “forgive me, my lord. it was just that for a moment i took you for—forgive me. my brain is not what it was. you wish rooms, my lord?” he

three folded and sealed parchments lay on the tray. rand took them, since that was what the innkeeper seemed to intend. they were a fine grade of parchment, soft and smooth to his touch. expensive. “what are these?” he asked. cuale bowed again. “invitations, of course, my lord. from three of the noble houses.” he bowed himself away. “who would send

it,” rand said quietly. “we are leaving cairhien as soon as we can.” he thrust his fists into his coat pockets, and felt selene’s note crumple. pulling it out, he smoothed it on his coat front. “as soon as we can,” he muttered, putting it back in his pocket again. “have your drink, hurin.” he stalked out angrily, not sure whether

“leave us for a while, dena. here.” he pressed some silver coins into her hand. “your knives are ready. why don’t you go pay ivon for them?” he brushed her smooth cheek with a gnarled knuckle. “go on. i’ll make it up to you.” she gave him a dark look, but she tossed her cloak around her shoulders, muttering, “ivon better

we find?” she brushed past him up the alleyway. rand followed, the spicy smell of her filling his nostrils. atop the hill, the alleyway opened onto a wide expanse of smoothly flattened clay, almost as pale as the plaster and nearly surrounded by more white, windowless buildings with the shadows of narrow alleys between, but to rand’s right stood one building

continue my search.” it was not a question, yet urien waited until she nodded before he eyed the shienarans proudly, challengingly, then turned his back on them. he walked away smoothly, and vanished into the rocks without looking back. some of the soldiers began muttering. uno said something about “crazy bloody aiel,” and masema growled that they should have left the

“lord barthanes!” ingtar exclaimed. “but he . . . he’s . . . he’s. . . .” “there are darkfriends among the high as well as the low,” verin said smoothly. “the mighty give their souls to the shadow as often as the weak.” ingtar scowled as if he did not want to think of that. “there’s guards,” hurin went on.

yet rand saw guards moving on the tower tops and along the roofwalks, and none of the windows were close to the ground. he got down from red’s back and smoothed his coat, adjusted his sword belt. the others dismounted around him, at the foot of broad, whitestone stairs leading up to the wide, heavily carved doors of the manor. ten

him,” rand said cautiously. “those eyes. that hair. i have heard the andoran royal line has almost aiel coloring in their hair and eyes.” rand stumbled, though the floor was smooth marble. “i’m not aiel, lord barthanes, and i’m not of the royal line, either.” “as you say. you have given me much to think on. i believe we may find

see him, though the gleeman’s gaze passed over him twice. it seemed that thom had meant what he said. a clean break. rand turned to go, but a woman stepped smoothly in front of him and put a hand on his chest, the lace falling back from a soft wrist. her head did not quite come to his shoulder, but her

to the waygate, walked all the way around it. even close up it looked like nothing more than a thick square of stone, taller than he was. the back was smooth and cool to the touch—he only brushed his hand against it quickly—but the front had been carved by an artist’s hands. vines, leaves, and flowers covered it, each so finely

loial made a slightly louder sound, and rand was not sure whether it referred to the waygate or the stedding. ingtar still did not seem convinced, but verin was as smooth and as implacable as snow sliding down a mountainside. “you will have your soldiers ready to ride, ingtar. send hurin to tell uno before he goes to bed. i think

had found it. the officer stared him up and down. “you sound a foreigner to this land. have you taken the oaths?” “i obey, await, and will serve,” fain replied smoothly. everyone he had questioned spoke of the oaths, though none had understood what they meant. if these people wanted oaths, he was prepared to swear anything. he had long since

with the tip of the dagger’s blade. his brows rose in startlement, the first open expression fain had seen from him, but in the next instant turak’s face was as smooth as ever. “do you have any idea what this is?” “the horn of valere, high lord,” fain said smoothly, pleased to see the mouth of the man with the braid

from him, but in the next instant turak’s face was as smooth as ever. “do you have any idea what this is?” “the horn of valere, high lord,” fain said smoothly, pleased to see the mouth of the man with the braid drop open. turak only nodded as if to himself. the high lord turned away. fain blinked and opened his

was the music rand became aware of first, unseen flutes and fiddles in a jolly tune that floated through the trees, and deep voices singing and laughing. “clear the field, smooth it low. let no weed or stubble stand. here we labor, here we toil, here the towering trees will grow.” almost at the same moment he realized that the huge

easy to pick out the older men; one and all they wore mustaches as long as their dangling eyebrows and narrow beards under their chins. all of the younger were smooth-shaven, like loial. many of the men were in their shirtsleeves, and carried shovels and mattocks or saws and buckets of pitch; the others wore plain coats that buttoned to the

space in the center of the town, around what could only be the stump of one of the great trees. nearly a hundred paces across, its surface was polished as smooth as any floor, and there were steps built up to it at several places. rand was imagining how tall that tree had been when erith spoke loudly enough for them

dais directly in front of the door made it shrink a little by their size, but rand still felt as if he were in a cavern. the somber floorstones were smooth, if large and irregular in shape, but the gray walls could have been the rough side of a cliff. the ceiling beams, rough-hewn as they were, looked like great roots.

asked. “as mat says, he has held his own. i don’t know that we need him, but if he wants to come, why—?” “we do need him,” verin broke in smoothly. “few any longer know the ways, but loial has studied them. he can decipher the guidings.” alar eyed them each in turn, then settled to a study of rand. she

heard you say you would ride to shayol ghul if need be to recover the horn. do you hold back now, at this?” she gestured to the stone under the smooth-barked tree. ingtar’s back stiffened. “i hold back at nothing. take us to toman head or take us to shayol ghul. if the horn of valere lies at the end, i

eyes. “there,” she said. “that will do for you. i will see how i can help the rest. we may still recover the horn, but our path has not grown smoother.” as she started around among the others, stopping briefly by each, rand went to his friends. when he tried to straighten mat, mat jerked and stared at him, then grabbed

size. the one power filled egwene with life. she smelled the faint rose aroma of soap from elayne’s morning bath. she could feel the rough plaster of the walls, the smooth stones of the floor, as well as she could the bed where she sat. she could hear min and nynaeve breathe, much less their quiet words. “if it comes to

a gray silk with thread-of-gold work and pearled flowers across the bosom and down the sleeves, “but it may allow us to leave unnoticed.” now egwene shifted her cloak and smoothed her own gold-embroidered, green silk dress and glanced at elayne, in blue slashed with cream, hoping nynaeve had been right. so far, everyone had taken them for petitioners, nobles, or

saddlebags. you can carry yours—and mine, too, if you want—once we—” her grin vanished, and she whispered fiercely, “aes sedai!” egwene whipped her eyes forward. an aes sedai with long, smooth black hair and aged-ivory skin was coming toward them down the corridor, listening to a woman wearing rough farm clothes and a patched cloak. the aes sedai had not seen

of the women reached out and fastened something around egwene’s neck. cloak flapping like a sail, egwene braced against the wind and tugged at what felt like a collar of smooth metal. it would not budge; under her frantic fingers, it felt all of one piece, though she knew it had to have some kind of clasp. the silvery coils the

street along with everyone else as a seanchan patrol neared, climbing from the direction of the harbor. nynaeve managed the bow, hands on knees, with face schooled to a perfect smoothness; elayne was slower, and made her bow with a distasteful twist of her mouth. there were twenty armored men and women in the patrol, riding horses, for which nynaeve was

punished anymore. she was crying because she wants to take her own life, and she cannot even do that without permission. light, i know how she feels!” min shifted uneasily, smoothing her dress with suddenly nervous hands. “egwene, you don’t want to. . . . egwene, you must not think of harming yourself. i will get you out somehow. i will!”

with that one. it leaves you completely open.” for an instant rand balanced on the ball of one foot, sword held reversed in both hands over his head, then shifted smoothly to the other foot. “lan says it’s good for developing balance.” it was not easy keeping his balance. in the void it often seemed he could maintain his equilibrium atop

and he has always wanted that dagger.” he held out his arms for the servant to remove his robe. despite his soft, almost-singing voice, hard muscles roped his arms and smooth chest, which was bare to a blue sash holding wide, white trousers that seemed made of hundreds of pleats. he sounded uninterested, and indifferent to the blades in their hands.

hate them. i hate them for hurting me, and i hate them because i couldn’t stop them from making me do what they wanted.” “i know,” nynaeve said gently. she smoothed egwene’s hair. “it is all right to hate them, egwene. it is. they deserve it. but it isn’t all right to let them make you like they are.” seta’s hands

like older men,” she told him. “i like men with education, and wit. i have no interest in farms, or sheep, or shepherds. especially boy shepherds.” with a sigh, she smoothed back the hair from his face; he had silky hair. “but then, you aren’t a shepherd, are you? not anymore. light, why did the pattern have to catch me up

“not rand al’thor,” said a musical voice from the door. “lews therin telamon. the dragon reborn.” min stared. she was the most beautiful woman min had ever seen, with pale, smooth skin, and long, black hair, and eyes as dark as night. her dress was a white that would make snow seem dingy, belted in silver. all her jewelry was silver.

who are you?” the woman came to stand over the bed—her movements were so graceful, min felt a stab of envy, though she had never before envied any woman anything—and smoothed rand’s hair as if min were not there. “he doesn’t believe yet, i think. he knows, but he does not believe. i have guided his steps, pushed him, pulled him,

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off with a surprised widening of her eyes. the others turned to see what she was staring at, and silence replaced laughter. all but amalisa scrambled to their feet, hastily smoothing hair and skirts. the lady amalisa rose gracefully, with a smile. “you honor us with your presence, liandrin. this is a most pleasant surprise. i did not expect you until

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audience chamber of the lord captain commander of the children of the light with the man who rose to the office; the flaring sun of coin gold had been worn smooth by generations of petitioners, replaced and worn smooth again. gold enough to buy any estate in amadicia, and the patent of nobility to go with it. for ten years niall

the children of the light with the man who rose to the office; the flaring sun of coin gold had been worn smooth by generations of petitioners, replaced and worn smooth again. gold enough to buy any estate in amadicia, and the patent of nobility to go with it. for ten years niall had walked across that gold and never thought

and domani. it would not do to have them kill my lion. no, under the light, we shall force peace between them.” “as my lord captain commander commands,” carridin said smoothly. “i hear and obey.” too smoothly. niall smiled a cold smile. “in case your oath is not strong enough, know this. if this false dragon dies before i command his

to have them kill my lion. no, under the light, we shall force peace between them.” “as my lord captain commander commands,” carridin said smoothly. “i hear and obey.” too smoothly. niall smiled a cold smile. “in case your oath is not strong enough, know this. if this false dragon dies before i command his death, or if he is taken

that passage, ordeith,” niall snapped, “so you could come when i summoned you without half the fortress knowing, not so you could listen to my private conversation.” ordeith made a smooth bow as he crossed the room. “listen, great lord? i would never do such a thing. i only just arrived and could not avoid hearing your final words. no more

keep too many secrets, wormwood, and pull more surprises from your sleeve than a gleeman.” “how can any man tell all that he knows, great lord,” the little man said smoothly. “it would be only prattle, until it becomes useful. i will tell you this, great lord. this rand al’thor, this dragon, has deep roots in the two rivers.” “false dragon!”

the other man bowed. “of course, great lord. i misspoke myself.” suddenly niall became aware of the drawing crumpled and torn in ordeith’s hands. even while the man’s face remained smooth except for that sardonic smile, his hands twitched convulsively around the parchment. “stop that!” niall commanded. he snatched the drawing away from ordeith and smoothed it as best he could.

while the man’s face remained smooth except for that sardonic smile, his hands twitched convulsively around the parchment. “stop that!” niall commanded. he snatched the drawing away from ordeith and smoothed it as best he could. “i do not have so many likenesses of this man that i can allow them to be destroyed.” much of the drawing was only a

like to keep a watch on all those who serve me.” “i ser. . . .” it was no use. with an effort carridin jerked his eyes away from that smooth expanse of pale, pasty face and turned his back. a shiver ran down his spine, having his back to a myrddraal. everything was sharp in the mirror on the wall

the oncoming rider would soon be in its sight. even as he spotted the raven, his bow came up, and he drew—fletchings to cheek, to ear—and loosed, all in one smooth motion. he was dimly aware of the slap of bowstrings beside him, but his attention was all on the black bird. of a sudden it cartwheeled in a shower of

but he knew rand was not headed to his hut now. perrin hurried on to where one side of the bowl-shaped valley suddenly became sheer cliff, fifty paces high and smooth except for tough brush clinging tenaciously here and there. he knew exactly where a crack in the gray rock wall lay, an opening hardly wider than his shoulders. with only

ageless quality of all aes sedai who had worked with the one power for a time. he could not put any age at all to her, with her face too smooth for many years and her dark eyes too wise for youth. her dress of deep blue silk was disarrayed and dusty, and wisps stuck out in her usually well-ordered hair.

had ever seen. he noticed nothing else about the room, cared to see nothing but her. her eyes were pools of midnight, her skin creamy pale and surely softer, more smooth than her dress of white silk. when she moved toward him, his mouth went dry. he realized that every other woman he had ever seen was clumsy and ill-shaped. he

take what comes.” “i am tired of taking what comes.” min scrubbed a hand across her eyes. perrin thought he saw tears. “rand could be dying while we wait.” moiraine smoothed min’s hair; there was a look almost of pity on the aes sedai’s face. perrin sat down on the end of lan’s bed opposite loial. the smell of people was

i am going along, whatever you say,” min put in firmly. “you are going to tar valon,” moiraine told her. “i am no such thing!” the aes sedai went on smoothly as if the other woman had not spoken. “the amyrlin seat must be told what has happened, and i cannot count on finding one i can trust who has messenger

about reminding her that whoever took the fish was supposed to clean them, too, but just at that moment she caught his eye. there was no particular expression on her smooth face, but her dark eyes did not waver, and they appeared to know what he was going to say, and to have dismissed it out of hand already. when she

even looked up. one had put his head down on the table and was snoring. loial’s ears twitched violently. master harod got to his feet slowly, eyes fastened on loial, smoothing his apron all the while. “at least he isn’t a whitecloak,” he said at last, then gave a start as if surprised he had spoken aloud. “that is to say,

better weather, it was good to see signs of spring. sweeping her thick wool cloak back out of her way, egwene let herself drop down in the high-cantled saddle, and smoothed her skirts in a gesture of impatience. her dark eyes filled with distaste. she had worn the dress, divided for riding by her own skill with a needle, for far

forehead. “his fever is worse.” she sounded worried. “if only i had some worrynot root or feverbane.” “perhaps if verin tried healing again,” elayne said. nynaeve shook her head. she smoothed mat’s hair back and sighed, then straightened before speaking. “she says it is all she can do to keep him alive, now, and i believe her. i—i tried healing last

rough, laborer’s coats. the mistress of novices was a slightly plump woman, with the high cheekbones that were common in saldaea. flame-red hair and clear, tilted green eyes made her smooth aes sedai features striking. she eyed egwene and the others calmly, but her mouth was tight. “so you have brought back our three runaways, verin. with everything that happened, i

were supposed to obey the accepted almost as quickly as they obeyed aes sedai, but egwene got to her feet slowly, and took as much time as she dared in smoothing her dress. she gave faolain a small curtsy and a tiny smile. the scowl that rolled across the accepted’s face made egwene’s smile grow before she remembered to rein it

for leane sedai. the keeper wore her narrow stole of office, blue to show she had been raised from the blue ajah, and her face could have been carved from smooth, brownish stone. there was no one else there. “did they give any trouble?” the keeper’s clipped way of talking gave no hint now of either anger or sympathy. “no, aes

hand before he should feel it. “thank you, galad,” she murmured. light, but he’s beautiful. she told herself to stop thinking that way. it was not easy. she found herself smoothing her dress, wishing he were seeing her in silk instead of this plain white wool, perhaps even one of those domani dresses min had told her of, the ones that

he did. “we managed to convince mother that if you did return here, you would need someone to look after you.” “look after me!” elayne exclaimed, but galad went on smoothly. “the white tower has become a dangerous place. there have been deaths—murders—with no real explanations. even some aes sedai have been killed, though they have tried to keep that quiet.

proper job of it.” “nynaeve, you wouldn’t—” gawyn began worriedly, but galad motioned him to silence and stepped closer to nynaeve. her face kept its stern expression, but she unconsciously smoothed the front of her dress as he smiled down at her. egwene was not surprised. she did not think she had met a woman outside the red ajah who would

think she had met a woman outside the red ajah who would not be affected by galad’s smile. “i apologize, nynaeve, for our forcing ourselves on you unwanted,” he said smoothly. “we will go, of course. but remember that we are here if you need us. and whatever caused you to run away, we can help with that, as well.” nynaeve

look shifted to her, but she gave no sign of being affected by it. she met the aes sedai’s eyes without blinking. “forgive me for interrupting, elaida sedai,” she said smoothly, “but the amyrlin seat said our transgressions were to be put behind us and forgotten. as part of making a new beginning, we are not even to speak of them.

that when punishment is done, the fault that caused it should be erased.” for a long moment the two aes sedai stood looking at each other, no expression on either smooth face. then elaida said, “of course. perhaps i will speak to them another time. about other matters.” the look she gave to the three women in white seemed to egwene

of the women around the table, egwene thought she saw signs of uncertainty. a tightness to anaiya’s mouth. a slight frown on alanna’s darkly beautiful face. the cool-eyed 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

he suspected from the way she moved, strong. he was not sure of her age—a year or two older than he, or maybe as much as ten—but her cheeks were smooth. her necklace of smooth white stones and woven silver matched her wide belt, but she did not wear a great serpent ring. the absence should not have surprised him—no aes

way she moved, strong. he was not sure of her age—a year or two older than he, or maybe as much as ten—but her cheeks were smooth. her necklace of smooth white stones and woven silver matched her wide belt, but she did not wear a great serpent ring. the absence should not have surprised him—no aes sedai would ever say

hanging from the belt, but it was empty. its contents lay jumbled on a shelf with what had been emptied from his pockets. he brushed aside a redhawk’s feather, a smooth, striped rock he had liked the colors of, his razor, and his bone-handled pocketknife, and freed his wash-leather purse from some coils of spare bowstring. when he tugged it open,

friend, mother. rand al’thor. you remember him. do you know if he is all right? i’ll bet his da is worried, too.” “as far as i know,” the amyrlin said smoothly, “the boy is well enough, but who can say? i have seen him only once, the time i saw you, in fal dara.” she turned to the keeper. “perhaps he

now? he thought. it’s all you are going to bloody get, now or ever. “i don’t mean to bloody tell everybo—” she arched an eyebrow, and he made his voice smooth again. “i do not want to tell anyone. i wish nobody knew. why do you want to keep it such a secret? don’t you trust your aes sedai?” for a

what selene had said about the black ajah, and wondered what the amyrlin would say to that. “a good reason to stay, wouldn’t you say?” she got to her feet, smoothing her skirts. “rest, my son. soon you will feel much better. rest.” she closed the door softly behind her. for a long time mat lay staring up at the ceiling.

ended at a broad hallway, far below the tower in the rock of the island. the hall was plain and undecorated, the pale rock through which it had been hewn smoothed but left otherwise untouched, and there was only one set of dark wooden doors, as tall and wide as fortress gates and as plain, although of smoothly finished and finely

had been hewn smoothed but left otherwise untouched, and there was only one set of dark wooden doors, as tall and wide as fortress gates and as plain, although of smoothly finished and finely fitted planks, at the very end. those great doors were so well balanced, though, that sheriam easily pushed one open, and pulled egwene through after her, into

light help me! there was nothing but the light. and the pain. egwene stared into the standing mirror, and was not sure whether she was more surprised by the ageless smoothness of her face or the striped stole that hung around her neck. the stole of the amyrlin seat. the way back will come but once. be steadfast. thirteen. she swayed,

directed flows. the way back will come but once. be steadfast. it had been so long since she last heard those words that she gave a start, slipped on the smooth tiles, barely caught herself short of the edge. the ground lay a hundred paces down. she looked over her shoulder. there on the tower top, tilted to sit flat against

softer weeping that comes after no energy is left for deeper sobs but the emotion still burns. dampness shone on nynaeve’s cheeks, too. the great serpent gleaming on her hand, smoothing elayne’s hair, matched the ring on the hand elayne used to clutch at nynaeve’s skirt. elayne lifted a face red and swollen from long crying, sniffing through her sobs when

real swords and axes and spears. spaced across the open ground, pairs of men, most stripped to the waist, flailed at each other with more practice swords. some moved so smoothly it almost seemed they danced with one another, flowing from stance to stance, stroke to counterstroke in continuous motion. there was nothing quickly apparent aside from skill to mark them

continuous motion. there was nothing quickly apparent aside from skill to mark them from the others, but mat was sure he was watching warders. those who did not move so smoothly were all younger, each pair under the watchful eyes of an older man who seemed to radiate a dangerous grace even standing still. warders and students, mat decided. he was

spin in time to catch galad across his upraised wrist, sending his practice sword flying. as if his wrist did not pain him at all, galad threw himself into a smooth, rolling dive and came up with his sword in both hands. ignoring him for the moment, mat half turned, twisting his wrists to whip the length of the staff back

this far, was still there. galad managed to turn that one with a sharp clack, and the next, and the next, and the next, but strain stiffened his face. that smooth swordsman, almost as good as the warders, fought with every ounce of his skill to keep mat’s staff from him. he did not attack; it was all he could do

the pages together, crumpling them in her fists. “it is useless rubbish.” nynaeve knelt beside her and gently pried her hands from around the papers. “perhaps, and perhaps not.” she smoothed the pages carefully on her breast. “you found in them something for us to look for. perhaps we will find more, if we are persistent. and there is the other

she did not want to think about them, but she could not avoid it. the list of ter’angreal had etched itself into her mind. item. a rod of clear crystal, smooth and perfectly clear, one foot long and one inch in diameter. use unknown. last study made by corianin nedeal. item. a figurine of an unclothed woman in alabaster, one hand

no idea what balefire was, but though it surely sounded dangerous if anything ever did, it just as surely had nothing to do corianin nedeal or dreams. nynaeve carried the smoothed-out pages to the table and set them down. she hesitated before spreading the others out and running her finger down one page, then the next. “here’s one mat would enjoy,”

and motioned the others down a steep flight of stairs descending into darkness. when she let it down behind them, all light vanished. egwene opened herself to saidar—it came so smoothly that she barely realized what she was doing—and channeled a trickle of the power that flooded through her. for a moment the mere feel of that rush surging within her

come. you can count on it. did i say something funny?” elayne had a hand over her mouth, and egwene was struggling openly with a laugh. “no, mat,” nynaeve said smoothly, but her lips twitched. “just something i have observed about men.” “you would have to be a woman to understand,” elayne said. “journey well and safely, mat,” egwene said. “and

the roasting spit, fists on her hips, and looked at laras. she only looked, expressionless, blue eyes cold and hard. the large woman gulped, and her chins wobbled as she smoothed her apron. the amyrlin did not blink. laras’ eyes dropped, and she shifted heavily from foot to foot. “if the mother will pardon me,” she said in a faint voice.

his head and sent cold chills through him. it was the one power, he decided, not simply being touched by an aes sedai. she was a plain woman despite her smooth cheeks and aes sedai serenity. “you seem much better,” she told him, smiling. her smile made him think of his mother. “even hungrier than i expected, so i hear, but

vegetables. and a spicy cake that made him forget meat for a moment. the innkeeper himself met them just inside, a plump, bald-headed man with shining brown eyes in a smooth pink face, bowing and dry-washing his hands. if he had not come to them, perrin would never have taken him for the landlord, for instead of the expected white apron,

under another name, or pretended to be something she was not. it was not the first perrin had heard lan name himself andra, either. the deep hood still hid moiraine’s smooth aes sedai features, and she held her cloak around her with one hand as if taken with a chill. not the hand on which she wore her great serpent ring.

by the water to wash her hands. chapter 39 threads in the pattern jolien put an unsteady hand to where the wound had been in dailin’s middle; when she touched smooth skin, she gasped as if she had not believed her own eyes. nynaeve straightened, drying her hands on her cloak. egwene had to admit that good wool did better for

the thing? “but i don’t think she is coming home. she means to be aes sedai, if you ask me.” he told them about his attempt to deliver the letter, smoothing over a few edges they had no need to know about. “the new men,” gill said. “that officer sounds it, at least. i’ll wager on it. no better than brigands,

love of your life.” the gleeman stared into the bowl of his pipe again. “mat, a very wise woman once told me that time would heal my wounds, that time smoothed everything over. i didn’t believe her. only she was right.” “you mean you do not love morgase anymore.” “boy, it has been fifteen years since i left caemlyn a half

it will not hurt you.” nynaeve raised her own cup, making a small sound of displeasure at the first taste. when she lowered the cup again, though, her face was smooth. “it is just a little bitter perhaps. tell me, mother guenna, will we have to put up with this rain and mud much longer?” the older woman frowned, parceling displeasure

cavan lopar by name, was more than glad to give them rooms. he frowned at their muddy boots, but silver from mat’s pocket—the gold was running low—and thom’s patch-covered cloak smoothed his fat forehead. when thom said he would perform for a small fee some nights, lopar’s chins waggled with pleasure. of a big man with a white streak in his

he laid the glowing metal atop it. one sharp blow of the hammer cut off the tool he had made. or almost made. it would be a chamfer knife, for smoothing and leveling the tops of barrel staves after they were hopped together, among other things. when he was done. the other man’s barrel scrape had made him think of it.

ducked into the inn’s only private dining room, overlooking the street. perrin followed him. “now listen, warder, i—” “you listen, perrin,” moiraine said. “be quiet and listen.” her face was smooth, but her eyes looked as grim as her voice sounded. perrin had not realized anyone was in the room except for himself and the warder, standing with one arm up

said, regaining his balance. “i was . . . looking for you.” he flashed her a nervous smile. “are you angry? why are you frowning at me that way?” she smoothed her forehead. “i was not frowning at you, master sandar. the butcher. . . . it does not matter. why are you looking for me?” her breath caught. “have you

a black-haired woman with a white streak above her left ear. they wore long, colorful silk dresses cut to bare their shoulders, and the glow of saidar surrounded them. liandrin smoothed her red dress and smiled with that pouting rosebud mouth. her doll’s face was filled with amusement. “you see, do you not, wilder,” she began, “you have no—” nynaeve hit

amico nagoyin was there, slender and pretty with her long neck and pale skin, looking as innocent as a girl gathering flowers. joiya byir had a friendly face despite that smooth-cheeked calm of a woman who had worked long with the power, almost a grandmother’s face in its welcoming appearance, though her age had put no touch of gray in her

mother guenna talked, the more she sounded like the amyrlin to mat. from the sour look on thom’s face, and the steady stare on hers, he decided he had better smooth matters over a little before the gleeman refused to take her medicines. and she decided to make him. “i knew a woman once who talked like you,” he said. “all

when moiraine opened her mouth, he raised his voice. “no! i will not leave her!” the aes sedai took a deep breath. “very well, perrin.” her voice was ice; calm, smooth, cold. “remain if you wish. perhaps you will survive this night. lan!” she and the warder strode down the hall to their rooms. in moments they returned, lan wearing his

if they are there again?” “i hope they are,” egwene said grimly. “i hope they are.” clutching the ter’angreal in her hand, she closed her eyes. she could feel elayne smoothing her hair, hear her murmuring softly. nynaeve began to hum that wordless lullaby from her childhood; for once, she felt no anger at it at all. the soft sounds and

could bear. “a woman once showed me a scar she received in tel’aran’rhiod, darkfriend. what happens here is still real when you wake.” the sweat rolled down the black sister’s smooth, ageless face, now. egwene wondered if she thought she was about to die. she almost wished she were cruel enough to do that. most of the unseen blows she had

dance. parting the silk. water flows downhill. wind and rain. blade of black fire met blade of red in showers of sparks, roars like white-hot metal shattering. rand came back smoothly into a guard stance, trying not to let his sudden uncertainty show. a heron stood on the black blade, too, a bird so dark as to be nearly invisible. once

a tone just as hard. “i may not be up to facing one of the forsaken, but i mean to take pieces out of liandrin’s hide!” “of course,” mat said smoothly. “of course.” are they crazy? they want to chase after the black ajah and the forsaken? “i only meant the hardest part is done. the stone has fallen to the

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better weather, it was good to see signs of spring. sweeping her thick wool cloak back out of her way, egwene let herself drop down in the high-cantled saddle, and smoothed her skirts in a gesture of impatience. her dark eyes filled with distaste. she had worn the dress, divided for riding by her own skill with a needle, for far

what selene had said about the black ajah, and wondered what the amyrlin would say to that. “a good reason to stay, wouldn’t you say?” she got to her feet, smoothing her skirts. “rest, my son. soon you will feel much better. rest.” she closed the door softly behind her. for a long time mat lay staring up at the ceiling.

softer weeping that comes after no energy is left for deeper sobs but the emotion still burns. dampness shone on nynaeve’s cheeks, too. the great serpent gleaming on her hand, smoothing elayne’s hair, matched the ring on the hand elayne used to clutch at nynaeve’s skirt. elayne lifted a face red and swollen from long crying, sniffing through her sobs when

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The Shadow Rising - Robert Jordan.txt

they might simply have thought the aes sedai three women whose ages they could not guess, three women in the flush of their prime, yet with more maturity than their smooth cheeks suggested. in the tower, though, there was no question. a woman who had worked very long with the one power was not touched by time in the same way

it’s pretty on you. remember, i will be there till sunset.” as he strode away with something very close to the dangerous grace of a warder, min realized she was smoothing the dress over her hip and stopped immediately. the light burn all men! sahra exhaled as if she had been holding her breath. “he is very good-looking, isn’t he?” she

it. a drawing hung above the fireplace: tiny fishing boats working among reeds in the fingers of the dragon, just as her father’s boat had. at first glance, despite her smooth aes sedai features, siuan sanche herself looked as simple as her furnishings. she herself was sturdy, and handsome rather than beautiful, and the only bit of ostentation in her clothing

a dead run. elaida did not see her go. the red sister had turned away, already forgetting the novice. as she swept down the corridor, not a line marred her smooth features, but her thoughts boiled furiously. she did not even notice the servants, the novices and accepted, who scrambled out of her way, curtsying as she passed. once she almost

wide, lopsided bowl of cantorin harbor. the shaven sides of her scalp left a wide crest of black hair that fell down her back. her hands rested lightly on a smooth stone balustrade as white as her pristine gown with its hundreds of pleats. there was a faint rhythmic clicking as she unconsciously drummed her fingers with their inch-long nails, the

her, claimed to be the dragon reborn. if i cannot find a way to deal with him, the displeasure of the empress will be the least of my worries. turning smoothly, she entered the long room fronting the terrace, its outer wall all doors and tall windows to catch the breezes. the pale wood of the walls, smooth and glistening like

my worries. turning smoothly, she entered the long room fronting the terrace, its outer wall all doors and tall windows to catch the breezes. the pale wood of the walls, smooth and glistening like satin, pleased suroth, but she had removed the furnishings of the old owner, the former atha’an miere governor of cantorin, and replaced them with a few tall

stretched out a hesitant hand as though to touch suroth’s foot. “please. pura has learned to obey. pura speaks only the truth. please do not punish pura.” suroth stepped back smoothly, letting none of her irritation show. that she should be forced to move by a damane. that she could almost be touched by one who could channel. she felt a

think things through. it was easy to hurt people without meaning to when you were hasty. he’d done that now. her dark eyes were large with shock. he tried to smooth his words. “i do want you to stay, faile, but maybe you should leave. i know you’re no coward, but the dragon reborn, the forsaken. . . .” not that

in his left sleeve and hurl it in the same motion, straight for the amyrlin’s heart. if this thing had a heart. the second knife came into his left hand smoothly and left more smoothly. the two blades drifted through the air like thistledown. he wanted to scream, but that first yell of shock and outrage still filled his mouth. the

and hurl it in the same motion, straight for the amyrlin’s heart. if this thing had a heart. the second knife came into his left hand smoothly and left more smoothly. the two blades drifted through the air like thistledown. he wanted to scream, but that first yell of shock and outrage still filled his mouth. the ruler of rods was

to talk, my lord dragon.” she let the pale robe fall to the floor, revealing an even thinner white silk garment he could only call a nightgown. it left her smooth shoulders completely bare, and exposed a considerable expanse of pale bosom. he found himself wondering distantly what held it up. it was difficult not to stare. “you are a long

the one made of stone, if i did not see it, and admire. please do not send me away from you. i will beg it, if you wish.” she knelt smoothly, like a dance. her expression still said she was being open, confessing everything, but on the other hand, in kneeling she had managed to tug her already precarious gown down

with her fingertips, then took her hand back as though changing her mind about looking underneath. perrin wondered how the aes sedai could look at rand without wincing, but her smooth face did not change. she smelled faintly of rose-scented soap. “at least you are alive.” her voice was musical, a chill, angry music at the moment. “what happened can wait.

manetheren,” lan murmured. this time even rhuarc looked startled, but if moiraine heard the warder compliment rand, she gave no sign of it. she was staring at rand, her face smooth but thunderheads in her eyes. rand wore a quizzical little smile, as if wondering what she would try next. perrin edged toward the doors. if rand and the aes sedai

his foot. he hoped he had corked all the ink bottles tightly. “choose,” he said, holding out his fists. mat tapped the left, and thom opened it to reveal a smooth black stone, flat and round. the boy chortled at having the first go and placed the stone on the crosshatched board. no one seeing the eagerness in his eyes would

different now. nynaeve was strong in the power, stronger than egwene, but only when she could actually manage to channel; unless angry, nynaeve could not channel at all. elayne usually smoothed things over when it came to this, as it did more often than it should. by the time egwene thought of smoothing matters herself, she had almost always dug in

nynaeve could not channel at all. elayne usually smoothed things over when it came to this, as it did more often than it should. by the time egwene thought of smoothing matters herself, she had almost always dug in her heels and flared back, and trying to be soothing then would only be backing down. that was how nynaeve would see

herself in hand before she could unravel the flows of air woven around the darkfriend. joiya must have been stiff from standing so still for so long, but she turned smoothly to face them. the sweat beading her forehead could not diminish her dignity and presence, any more than her drab, rough dress lessened the sense of her being there by

any more than her drab, rough dress lessened the sense of her being there by choice. she was a handsome woman with something motherly about her face despite its ageless smoothness, something comforting. but the dark eyes set in that face made a hawk’s look kind. she smiled at them, a smile that never reached those eyes. “the light illumine you.

angry or uneasy. egwene did not think she was uneasy; joiya did not seem to make nynaeve’s skin crawl as she did egwene’s. “i have repented my sins,” joiya said smoothly. “the dragon is reborn, and he holds callandor. the prophecies are fulfilled. the dark one must fail. i can see that, now. my repentance is real. no one can walk

found herself wishing she could manage as well as those two. “the guards,” moiraine muttered as if to herself. “i saw them in the corridor still, and never thought.” she smoothed her dress, composing herself with an obvious effort. elayne did not believe she had ever seen moiraine so out of herself as tonight. but then, the aes sedai had cause.

moiraine had said. “how can reading put him in trouble?” “he has decided to find out for himself what the prophecies of the dragon say.” moiraine’s face remained cool and smooth, but suddenly she sounded almost as tired as elayne felt. “they may have been proscribed in tear, but the chief librarian had nine different translations in a locked chest. rand

am not usually so forward.” no; that might make him think of berelain. there was red in his cheeks; he was thinking of berelain. burn him! her voice came as smooth as silk. “soon i will have to go, rand. to leave tear. i may not see you again for months.” or ever, a tiny voice cried in her head. she

added. it might. she sweated with eagerness to please. joiya coolly told them to go to tanchico if they wished. “it is an uncomfortable city now, i hear,” she said smoothly, raven eyes glittering. “the king holds little more than the city itself, and i understand the panarch has ceased keeping civil order. strong arms and quick knives rule tanchico. but

at these fools with his fists. “two thousand men. under the command of torean!” “the high lord torean has an interest in affairs with mayene, my lord dragon,” meilan said smoothly. “he has an interest in forcing his attentions on a woman who won’t look at him!” rand shouted. “grain for ships, i said! no soldiers. and certainly no bloody torean!

the man rushed at him, knife held low and point up for a killing stroke. even then it was difficult to keep his eyes on the fellow, but rand pivoted smoothly, and the wind blows over the wall took off the hand holding the knife and finished by driving through his assailant’s heart. for an instant he stared into dull eyes—lifeless

skirted the corpse of the gray man and put his hands slowly on callandor’s hilt. it was cold, like crystal long in the dark, but it did not feel so smooth that it would slip in the hand. something made him look up. a fade stood in the doorway, hesitating, its pale-faced, eyeless gaze on callandor. rand pulled at saidin. through

that, here. the usual enhancement of senses was with her, of course. she could feel tiny cracks in the gilded plaster bosses covering the ceiling fifty feet up, and the smooth polish of the white stone floor. infinitesimal cracks, invisible to the eye, spread across the floorstones as well. the chamber was huge, perhaps two hundred paces long and nearly half

tanchico of tel’aran’rhiod, she was flaunting herself for them. any eye looking at the sky would notice a woman flying, one who did not vanish after a few moments. her smooth flight staggered, and she swooped down below roof level, floating along the streets more slowly than before but still faster than a horse could run. she might be rushing toward

how was it done? gray men?” “i doubt even gray men could have managed that,” moiraine said dryly. “the shadow has resources beyond what we know, it seems.” “yes.” egwene smoothed her dress, and her voice. “if there was no attempt at rescue, it must mean they were both telling the truth. they were killed because they talked.” “or to stop

shook her head, only slightly, but still deliberate. “i showed this to rhuarc.” aviendha opened her mouth, her face irate, but the aes sedai raised her voice and went on smoothly. “as the letter asks me to. only the part concerning you, of course. he seems quite determined that you will do as the letter asks. as it orders. i think

replied. “i want what will see him alive to fight tarmon gai’don. he says he will tell us all what he means to do tomorrow.” the smallest frown creased her smooth forehead. “tomorrow, we will all know more than we do tonight.” her departure was abrupt. tomorrow, elayne thought. what will he do when i tell him? what will he say?

was a dangerous note in that quiet tone. the sailors looked as if they would leave if they dared. the cairhienin was glaring at mat, sitting up too straight and smoothing his worn coat as he swayed; the empty mug in front of him was obviously not his first. the gray-haired woman had her mug to her mouth, her sharp eyes

for her. “you are going somewhere?” she said hesitantly. with the light of the hallway’s lamps behind her, it was difficult not to stare. “yes, my lady.” he bowed; not smoothly, but as well as he could. faile could give all the sharp sniffs she wanted, but he saw no reason not to be polite. “in the morning.” “so am i.”

looked at each other in silence. “did you find out what you wanted?” rand asked finally. “did you?” a bright flame leaped into existence, balanced above rand’s palm. not the smooth glowing sphere of the aes sedai, but a rough blaze like a torch. as rand moved to leave, mat added another question. “are you really going to just let the

i know you want nothing more than to break him free of moiraine. do not try to deny it.” nynaeve did not try. instead she fussed with her dress, and smoothed the coverlet on the bed. “not like that,” she said finally. “i mean him to be mine. all of him. i will not have him remembering a broken oath to

it by his own hand. he did not think she could have, but he reminded himself again that she was aes sedai. as if he needed any reminding, with that smooth pretty face across from him, those serene dark eyes watching him full of all his secrets. “the servants’ quarters are full of gossip, but i seldom listen.” “do you not?”

expression that always put royal guardsmen on their toes. instead, nynaeve hoisted her bundles and sturdy cloth bags and turned down the dock. “at least this ship will be a smoother ride than that. i do hope smooth. shall we go aboard?” as they picked their way down the pier, between working men and stacked barrels and carts full of goods,

their toes. instead, nynaeve hoisted her bundles and sturdy cloth bags and turned down the dock. “at least this ship will be a smoother ride than that. i do hope smooth. shall we go aboard?” as they picked their way down the pier, between working men and stacked barrels and carts full of goods, elayne said, “nynaeve, the sea folk can

a gleeman after us, too? or the other man? to keep us amused with your juggling and fire-eating, perhaps.” thom had been scrutinizing sandar closely, but he shifted his attentions smoothly and made an elegant bow, only spoiling it with a too-elaborate flourish of that patch-covered cloak. “not the shepherd, mistress al’meara. a lady of our mutual acquaintance asked—asked—me to accompany

on them?” elayne said as soon as they were out of earshot. that was not far, with all the hurly-burly on deck. “we do have to travel together, after all. ‘smooth words make smooth companions.’ ” “best to begin as we mean to go on. elayne, thom merrilin knows very well we are not full aes sedai.” she lowered her voice

said as soon as they were out of earshot. that was not far, with all the hurly-burly on deck. “we do have to travel together, after all. ‘smooth words make smooth companions.’ ” “best to begin as we mean to go on. elayne, thom merrilin knows very well we are not full aes sedai.” she lowered her voice and glanced around

and triangles, the sternlines were cast off, and the ship curled out into the river in a great arc through the anchored ships awaiting their turn at the docks, a smooth curve that ended heading south, downriver. the sea folk handled their ship as a master horseman would a fine steed. that peculiar spoked wheel worked the rudder, somehow, as one

he? he has learned the first art of kings, it seems. making people wait.” she did not realize she had spoken aloud until egwene gave her a startled look. she smoothed the irritation from her face immediately. rand would appear eventually, and she would learn what he meant to do. learn along with everyone else. she nearly ground her teeth. that

egwene was barely out of her cradle, but if tam’s wife had been aiel, egwene would certainly have heard of it. she glanced at moiraine; the aes sedai was watching, smooth-faced, calm. rand did look a great deal like the aielmen, with his height and gray-blue eyes and reddish hair, but this was ridiculous. “not your mother,” amys said slowly. “your

and flows of air lifted the fiery-haired man and flung him back a dozen paces. egwene stared, wide-eyed. they could channel. at least, two of them could. suddenly amys’s youthfully smooth features beneath that white hair leaped out at her for what they were, something very close to aes sedai agelessness. moiraine was absolutely still. egwene could almost hear her thoughts

is trained properly,” moiraine replied. “as strong as egwene will be. in the tower, she can reach that strength.” “we can teach her as well, aes sedai.” melaine’s voice was smooth enough, but contempt tinged her unwavering green-eyed stare. “better. i have spoken with aes sedai. you coddle women in the tower. the three-fold land is no place for coddling. aviendha

agreed to it! it just was not fair. but then, she doubted they could get any more out of rhuidean than she would from these women. chapter 24 rhuidean the smooth pebble in mat’s mouth was not making moisture anymore, and had not been for some time. spitting it out, he squatted beside rand and stared at the billowing gray wall

in any fountain. silence covered the city as completely as the dome of fog. the air was cooler than outside, but just as arid. dust grated under foot on pale smooth paving stones. mat trotted to the nearest fountain anyway, just on the off chance, and leaned on the waist-high white rim. three unclothed women, twice as tall as he and

his questions. he was being cheated. if he could come here, he should be able to get answers. suddenly he spun in a circle, searching not the pedestals but the smooth gray walls. the doorway was gone; there was no way out. yet before he completed a second turn there was someone standing on each pedestal, people like his guide, but

filled with cascading ripples and glares and odd rainbows. the air was cooler here, enough to make him wish he had a coat, but the same gritty dust covered the smooth white stone under his boots. not a breeze stirred, yet something made each hair on his body shift, even under his shirt. ahead and to the right he could just

were small. maigran clutched at him as if she sensed he might leave her, and lewin stiffened as if he wanted to hold tighter but thought himself too old. adan smoothed their hair and kept their faces pressed against his chest. he made himself watch, though, until the wagons wheeled away surrounded by whooping riders, after the horses that were already

“solinda sedai, some of us wish to remain. we can serve, still.” “do you know what happened to the aiel at tzora?” he nodded, and she sighed, reaching out to smooth his short hair as if he were a child. “of course you do. you da’shain have more courage than. . . . ten thousand aiel linking arms and singing, trying

will care for what you have given into our charge until you want them again.” “of course. the things we gave you.” she smiled at him and loosened her grip, smoothing his hair once more before folding her hands. “you will carry the . . . things . . . to safety, jonai. keep moving, always moving, until you find a

that opened it himself. suddenly his ear caught a muffled click of hooves from the darkness, and the fetid smell slammed home in his mind. “trollocs!” he shouted. gaul pivoted smoothly to slide a spear into the black-mailed chest of a wolf-snouted trolloc dashing into the light with scythelike sword upraised; in the same effortless motion the aiel pulled his spearpoint

bows on their backs and were using those curved horn bows. more arrows, pincushioning the halfman’s chest. gaul’s spear, darting, stabbing. one of faile’s knives suddenly stood out in that smooth maggot-white face. the fade would not fall, would not stop trying to kill. only the wildest dodging kept its sword from finding flesh. perrin bared his teeth in an unconscious

ancient signs. twice great carved figures took nearly an entire mountainside, and in another place strange angular letters two spans high had been incised across a cliff a shade too smooth and sheer. weathering had worn away the figures’ faces, and eyes less sharp than his might have taken the letters themselves for the work of wind and rain. mountains and

as well have been a solid column of metal. perrin walked around it twice without seeing any opening, not so much as a crack, not even a mark on that smooth, sheer wall. the smell hung here, though, that cold, inhuman stink. the trail ended here. the man—if man he was—had gone inside somehow. he only had to find the way

somewhere in the mountains of mist above the two rivers. but he gave over his hunt because of our problems. lord luc is a great gentleman, with the finest manners.” smoothing her hair, she gave an approving smile; bran looked at her sideways and grunted sourly. hunters of the horn. trollocs. whitecloaks. the two rivers hardly seemed the same place he

if he were a child. “i know.” he wanted to stop, but the more she whispered understanding, the more he wept, as though her hands soft on his head were smoothing the tears out of him. chapter 30 beyond the oak with faile holding his head beneath her breasts, perrin lost track of how long he cried. images of his family

anxious cascade of introductions and explanations. perrin leaned his chin against his bow. he recognized the aes sedai. verin mathwin, plump and square-faced, gray streaking her brown hair despite her smooth-cheeked aes sedai agelessness, was brown ajah, and like all browns seemingly lost half the time in the search for knowledge, whether old and lost or new. but sometimes her dark

done, what seemed so long ago. her great serpent ring lay in her belt pouch, though perrin doubted that any of these people would know what it meant. elisa al’seen smoothed her white apron and smiled gravely at verin. though her hair had less gray than her husband’s, she looked older than verin, her lined face motherly. very likely she thought

luc would have had the al’seens and lewins behind him entire. he knew it, too. his apparent bored complacency did not last long, though. at his first glimpse of verin’s smooth-cheeked face, luc stiffened slightly, eyes flickering to her hands so quickly many would not have noticed. he very nearly dropped his embroidered gloves. plump and plainly dressed, she might have

been doing this from the start. that man. . . .” he stopped himself from saying luc irritated him. not with faile there. she might misunderstand. “of course,” verin said smoothly. “i have not had the opportunity to see it work before this. or perhaps i have and did not know it.” “what are you talking about? see what work?” “perrin,

he had when she smiled. “that is very nice of you to say, but i was.” she patted the coat button and began adjusting his coat—which it did not need—and smoothing his lapels—which they did not need. “you were so silly,” she said, speaking too fast, “just because that young man looked at me—really, he is much too boyish; not at

al’dais, ahans and marwins, armed with bows and riding an ill-matched assortment of ponies and plow horses, all eager to rescue the prisoners from the whitecloaks. it was not as smooth as that, of course. wil and the others from the al’seen farm thought it unfair that he warned the newcomers about the aiel, spoiling the fun they hoped to have

dannil. wil and bili wore disgruntled frowns, but they held whatever objections they had. faile gave perrin an approving nod, and so did tomas. verin watched it all with a smooth, unreadable face, no doubt thinking she was seeing a ta’veren at work. perrin saw no need to tell her he had just tried to think of what a shienaran he

than a bruise or a small cut. no two women can have exactly the same talents or skills.” her tone irritated him. he was not some pettish child to be smoothed down. he frowned at the wise ones. could not or would not, mat and he would have to wait for moiraine. if she had not been killed by that bubble

is she not beautiful? her back is straight, her limbs supple and strong, her lips like plump loveapples. her hair is spun gold, her eyes blue sapphires. her skin is smoother than the finest silk, her bosom fine and well-rounded. her hips are—” he cut her off frantically, his cheeks heating. “i know she’s pretty. what are you doing?” “i am

the owl-looking man said, giving his mustache a fierce tug. “no true taraboner would harm the panarch, yes?” he almost sounded as if he believed it. “of course,” carridin said smoothly. he took another sip of wine. “if i am to secure the panarch’s palace for the ascension of the lady amathera, i must hear from the king himself. otherwise, it

deserters. such desertions must not become common knowledge. much better that they simply vanish.” only because she had a little time to think was she able to keep her face smooth. sul’dam had been left behind in the debacle at falme, she had been told. possibly some had deserted. her instruction, delivered by the high lady suroth herself, had been to

there is!” “is she?” her voice quavered, and she realized she was crying. “then why did she—? why—?” somehow she had her face buried against his coat, and he was smoothing her hair. “because it is lonely being a queen,” he said softly. “because most men attracted to a queen see power, not a woman. i saw a woman, and she

would call back from the grave to fight in the last battle. “it’s impossible. who are you?” “there is no time, woman. you must go before he sees.” in one smooth motion she pulled a silver arrow from the quiver at her waist, nocked it and drew fletching to ear. the silver arrowhead pointed straight at nynaeve’s heart. “go!” nynaeve fled.

buried here. the oldest among the carved wooden headpieces, cracked and barely legible, bore dates nearly three hundred years old, over graves indistinguishable from undisturbed ground. it was the mounds smoothed by rains but barely covered by grass that stabbed him. generations of aybaras buried here, but surely never fourteen at one time. aunt neain over by uncle carlin’s older grave,

once, and food had been feast or famine as the hunting went. mostly famine. “the lady?” “the lady faile. and lord luc, too. they came from emond’s field.” perrin rose smoothly, taking long strides that made dannil hurry to keep up. he managed not to look at the house. the charred timbers and sooty chimneys that had been the house where

lord luc.” “a pity,” he murmured, shrugging as if to say there was no accounting for women’s taste. tugging on his wolf-embroidered gauntlets, he swung into the black stallion’s saddle smoothly. “good luck to you, master goldeneyes. i do hope you all have good luck.” with a half-bow to faile, he whirled his tall horse showily and spurred him to a

every side, howls and savage cries. a ram-horned trolloc leaped into the open twenty paces away, raising a long curved bow. perrin drew fletchings to ear and fired in one smooth motion, reaching for another shaft as soon as his arrow cleared bow. his broadhead point took the trolloc between its eyes; it bellowed once as it fell. and its arrow,

poultices. you know my name,” he added, looking at perrin searchingly. “of course. your eyes.” raen’s wife had come to his side as he spoke, a plump woman, gray-haired but smooth-cheeked, a head taller than her husband. her red blouse and bright yellow skirt and green-fringed shawl jarred the eye, but she had a motherly manner. “perrin aybara!” she said. “i

head down on a pillow, for some reason not wanting him to look at it. faile washed the wound while ila prepared her salve with a stone mortar and pestle—plain smooth gray stone, the first things he had seen in the tinker camp that were not brightly colored. they mounded the salve around the arrow and wrapped him with bandages to

world, someone—or something—was passing through where he stood. touching the dull surface, he grunted. it might as well have been a mirror; his hand slid across it as across the smoothest glass. from the corner of his eye he caught the avendesora leaf suddenly in its place on the inside, and leaped back just as the waygate began swinging shut. someone—or

him he had seemed to have a sour streak, odd for a tinker. the men did not content themselves with shaking faile’s hand, but hugged her. perrin kept his face smooth when some of the younger men became overly enthusiastic, only grinding his teeth a little; he managed to smile. no woman much younger than ila hugged him. somehow, even while

at him and the aes sedai and the aiel with equally wide eyes. that was all. “the others,” perrin said. “they need—” “they will be taken care of,” verin interrupted smoothly, seating herself at another table. “they will want to be with their families. much better to have loved ones close.” perrin felt a stab of pain—the graves below the apple

sounded normal, except for an undercurrent he barely caught, a tightness at the corners of her eyes. “what is wrong?” she replaced the cup carefully on the bedside table and smoothed her dress. “nothing is wrong.” the taut underlying tone was even clearer. “faile, don’t lie to me.” “i do not lie!” she snapped. “i will have some breakfast brought up

arrows, but he was adamantly opposed to anyone helping him here in the village, as if he could keep every quiver filled by himself. perrin was not sure how he smoothed buel’s ruffled temper, but somehow he left the man happily teaching a knot of boys to tie and glue goose-feather fletchings. eward candwin, the stout cooper, had a different problem.

on his sword hilt, blue eyes amused. “i thought you would object,” perrin said, “the way i hear you’ve been talking people up against the whitecloaks.” luc spread his hands smoothly. “if these people want whitecloaks among them, let them have whitecloaks. but you should be careful, young goldeneyes. i know something of taking an enemy into your bosom. his blade

though he should brush it more. imagining him younger, elayne thought she could see what had first attracted her mother. that did not absolve him of leaving, of course. she smoothed her face before he could see her frown. “i was told you were not alone,” he said, giving egeanin a guarded look almost identical to juilin’s; men were always suspicious

surely not on the list of the women who had gone with liandrin. dark hair spilling loose to her shoulders framed a sturdily handsome face with large, dark eyes and smooth cheeks, but not with aes sedai agelessness. smiling, she closed the door behind her. “forgive me, but i thought you were—” the glow of saidar surrounded her, and she. .

ice, and a small voice in the back of her head shrieked, what do they know? light, how much do they know? fool! blind, fool woman! she kept her face smooth, though. this was not the first hard corner she had ever been in. a fifteen-year-old girl with nothing but her bait knife, hauled into an alley by four hard-eyed louts

“i knew you must be up to something, min, when i saw her horse.” his red-gold hair was matted with blood, his blue eyes half-dazed, but he walked toward them smoothly, a tall man with a catlike grace. a cat stalking mice. “gawyn,” min began, “we—” his sword was out of its scabbard, flicking back siuan’s hood, sharp edge laid against

now?” min asked as she climbed into her saddle. better than commenting on the lie. better just to remember that she could lie now. leane mounted the third mare with smooth skill and walked her in a circle, testing her step; she had surely been on a horse before. siuan shook her head. “i really don’t know. no stilled woman has

had said, and the rocks there, always cool, gave the hold its name. in front of the shadows, amys stood with another woman atop a wide gray boulder, its top smoothed for a platform. the second woman, slender in her bulky skirts, scarf-bound yellow hair spilling below her waist and touched with white from her temples, appeared older than amys though

hear you explain to them how powerless they are.” he felt her shifting against his back, trying to get a good look at his face, and carefully kept his expression smooth. “maybe they’ll explain a few things to you, too.” “you have my leave,” lian began—couladin smiled, swelling up where he stood—“to step beneath my roof. water and shade will be

and your face, you have no feeling for us. i will make you know our blood for yours if i have to lay the—” “i think,” amys cut her off smoothly, “that he would like to see his sleeping room now. he looks tired.” she clapped her hands sharply, and a willowy gai’shain woman appeared. “show this man to the room

that sword like lamplight around him in the night. aviendha appeared, running to meet him with her skirts pulled up above her knees, then stopped. letting her skirts fall, she smoothed them and fell in beside rand, lifting her shawl around her head. he seemed not to see her, and her face was blank as stone. they deserved each other. “rand,”

smiling. “uncontrolled thoughts,” amys said, “can be very troublesome indeed, nynaeve sedai, until you learn.” despite her bland tone, her lips quirked in barely masked amusement. nynaeve kept her face smooth with an effort. they could not have had anything to do with it. they can’t have! she struggled to change back, and it was a struggle, as though something held

as best she could, she looked around. rows of the thin white columns ran the length and breadth of a huge chamber nearly as wide as it was long, with smooth polished white floor-stones below and gilded bosses on the ceiling high above. a thick rope of white silk ran all the way around the room on waist-high posts of dark

she certainly thought of other things. “i have been thinking how we can move inside the palace unnoticed, nynaeve. we can be all but invisible.” as she talked, nynaeve’s frowns smoothed out. nynaeve herself had conceived a way to enter the palace. when egeanin made a few suggestions, nynaeve’s mouth tightened, but the notions were sensible, and even nynaeve could not

faile, just carry the message, and i’ll wed you the very first day i can.” he would. if that day ever came. suddenly she was very intent on his beard, smoothing it and not meeting his eyes. she started speaking slowly but picked up speed like a runaway horse. “i . . . just happened to mention . . . in

fluted black rod a pace in length. nynaeve recognized jeaine caide. more, she recognized the rod. desperately she flung herself to one side, so hard that she slid along the smooth white floorstones until one of the thin columns stopped her with a jar. a leg-thick bar of white shot through where she had been standing, as if the air had

for would have done the same.” “thank you.” light, but he sounded hoarse. in a minute he would be snuffling like a girl. but for some reason he could not smooth his voice. they must think him an idiot. “thank you. i shouldn’t have fooled you, but she’d not have gone if she suspected.” “oh, perrin.” marin laughed. she actually laughed,

murmured. perrin would not have thought that was the word. this was the first time the trollocs had shouted anything understandable. not that he had any idea what it meant. smoothing his marriage ribbon, he forced himself to ride calmly to the center of the two rivers line. the companions formed behind him, the breeze lifting the banner with its red

yet it hardly seemed they were fewer. stepper pranced nervously, but he could not hear the dun’s whicker for the rolling howls of trollocs. the axe came into his hand smoothly, long half-moon blade and thick spike catching the sunlight. not midday yet. my heart is yours forever, faile. this time, he did not think the stakes would . . .

hands bigger than an ogier’s away from his throat. the trolloc screamed as aram’s sword sliced into its neck. even as it collapsed atop perrin, spraying blood, the tinker spun smoothly to run another trolloc through the middle. grunting with pain, perrin kicked his way clear, aided by stepper scrambling to his feet, but there was no time to think of

of rhuidean. you cannot mean that this man. . . .” he trailed off in disbelief. “if this wetlander can speak,” sevanna said quickly, “so may couladin.” she lifted a smooth hand, and couladin scrambled onto the ledge, face an angry red. han rounded on him. “stand down, couladin! it is bad enough that rhuarc violates custom without you doing it

nothing else. a bar of white-hot fire ten feet tall streaked between the pair in a blur surrounded by arcing blue lightning, searing a pace-deep groove across the square, a smooth-sided gash glowing with melted earth and stone; the fiery shaft struck a green-streaked palace wall and exploded, the roar buried in the rumble of collapsing marble. on one side of

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skirted the corpse of the gray man and put his hands slowly on callandor’s hilt. it was cold, like crystal long in the dark, but it did not feel so smooth that it would slip in the hand. something made him look up. a fade stood in the doorway, hesitating, its pale-faced, eyeless gaze on callandor. rand pulled at saidin. through

poultices. you know my name,” he added, looking at perrin searchingly. “of course. your eyes.” raen’s wife had come to his side as he spoke, a plump woman, gray-haired but smooth-cheeked, a head taller than her husband. her red blouse and bright yellow skirt and green-fringed shawl jarred the eye, but she had a motherly manner. “perrin aybara!” she said. “i

had said, and the rocks there, always cool, gave the hold its name. in front of the shadows, amys stood with another woman atop a wide gray boulder, its top smoothed for a platform. the second woman, slender in her bulky skirts, scarf-bound yellow hair spilling below her waist and touched with white from her temples, appeared older than amys though

that sword like lamplight around him in the night. aviendha appeared, running to meet him with her skirts pulled up above her knees, then stopped. letting her skirts fall, she smoothed them and fell in beside rand, lifting her shawl around her head. he seemed not to see her, and her face was blank as stone. they deserved each other. “rand,”

that sword like lamplight around him in the night. aviendha appeared, running to meet him with her skirts pulled up above her knees, then stopped. letting her skirts fall, she smoothed them and fell in beside rand, lifting her shawl around her head. he seemed not to see her, and her face was blank as stone. they deserved each other. “rand,”

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The Fires of Heaven - Robert Jordan.txt

the outward calm of aes sedai; there was often a strain of anxiety around her eyes, and more so of late. “and someone to shienar,” added javindhra, another red. despite smooth cheeks, her angular face was hard enough to hammer nails. her voice was harsh. “i don’t like trouble of this sort in the borderlands. the last thing we need is

not sure if it was in anger, or to keep them from chattering. but fear could and must be controlled. control was all. “we are done, then,” alviarin said, rising smoothly from her stool. the others copied her, adjusting skirts and shawls in preparation for leaving. “in three days, i will expect—” “have i given you leave to go, daughters?” those

man who can channel.” the words left elaida’s mouth like a whip. they made her own stomach knot up till she feared she might vomit. somehow she kept her face smooth and pressed on, pushed the words out, stones from a sling. “a man fated to go mad and wreak horror with the power before he dies. but more than that.

expect more, lanfear?” he growled. “have you convinced demandred to stop thinking he is all but the great lord’s heir?” “i doubt he is arrogant enough for that,” lanfear replied smoothly. “he can see where it took ishamael. and that is the point. a point graendal raised. once we were thirteen, immortal. now four are dead, and one has betrayed us.

half down his chest. night in the aiel waste would bring freezing cold, but during daylight even a breeze was never cool. with his hands above his head on the smooth stone window frame, his coatsleeves fell down to reveal the front part of the figure wrapped around each forearm: a golden-maned, serpentine creature with eyes like the sun, scaled in

to see were looking at one another and at the mountains around the city, plainly assessing their chances. moiraine appeared among them so quickly it seemed by the power, moving smoothly from man to man. her manner made rand almost hear the cool, imperious instructions coming from her lips, so full of certainty that they would be obeyed that not obeying

egwene muttered, folding her arms beneath her breasts. “and a stone couldn’t be as stubborn! moiraine is only trying to help you. why won’t you see that?” the aes sedai smoothed her silk skirts, though they did not need it. “taking the aiel across the dragonwall might be the worst thing you could possibly do.” there was an edge to her

thousand flowers, an aiel game that involved laying out patterns of flat bits of stone carved with what seemed a hundred different symbols. of course, a profusion of gai’shain moved smoothly about their chores, cleaning, serving, mending, seeing to oil lamps that ranged from simple glazed pottery to gilded loot from somewhere to the tall stand-lamps that had been found in

“if you allow this, it will be disastrous. years of planning are coming to fruition, and he means to ruin it all.” “plans of the white tower,” amys said, so smoothly she might have been agreeing. “those plans have nothing to do with us. we, and the other wise ones, must consider what is right for the aiel. we will see

man and woman against you.” “the fifth is our due, aes sedai,” melaine said, throwing her long hair back over her shoulder so she could work a staera across a smooth shoulder. even heavy and damp with the steam, her hair glistened like silk. “we took no more even from the treekillers.” her glance at moiraine was too bland not to

much intelligence. but then, myrddraal used ravens and rats for spies, too, and other animals closely linked to death. shadoweyes, the aiel called them. channeling fine flows of earth, he smoothed out the floor tiles, lifting up the compressions until he was out in the empty, night-cloaked street and a hundred paces from the tall building. in the morning, anyone would

was simple truth, though she was at least as prominent in the list as the wise ones. “dreams are mine. you and your dreams are mine especially.” her face remained smooth, but her voice hardened. “i can break through your warding. you would not like it.” to show his unconcern, he sat down on the foot of his pallet, legs folded

quickly and unobtrusively as we can. perhaps elayne and i will have more luck finding vegetables than you did. would you care for a walk, elayne?” elayne got up immediately, smoothing her gray skirts and lifting her hat from the wagon. “that would be very nice, after that wagon seat. it might be different if thom and juilin let me take

turning back to nynaeve as the girl vanished through a door at the rear. “i live over the shop, you see, and my kitchen is in the back.” she was smoothing her skirts nervously, thumb and forefinger of her right hand forming a circle. for the great serpent ring. there would be no need for an excuse about the dress, it

mainly interested in outbreaks of disease, or a new kind of illness, but i find that interesting myself. i dabble a little with—” she coughed and rushed on; if she smoothed her dress any harder, she would wear a hole in it. “some about the children, of course, but they—you—are not much interested in them, really.” “the kitchen, mistress macura,” nynaeve

like a croak. roughly, he shoved the girl into a corner. “you stay there, or i’ll strop this blade on your hide!” in two steps he was at elayne’s side, smoothing her hair back, worry painting his leathery face. “what did you give them, girl? tell me, or—!” “not her,” nynaeve muttered. “other one. went away. help me up. have to

seamstress’s face had gone so pale at the sight of them that her eyes seemed darker, and about to come out of her head besides. she licked her lips and smoothed her skirt incessantly, and cast quick little glances at juilin’s knife as if wondering whether it might not be best to run anyway. for the most part, though, she stared

with this lord gaebril who had suddenly appeared in caemlyn, it was no longer any concern of his. she had told him, in a voice as flat and cold as smooth ice, that his name would never be spoken in the palace again, that only his long service kept her from sending him to the headsman for treason. treason! he needed

back in her two rivers. “why would you want to go to ghealdan, master luca?” elayne asked. the other woman did make rough spots and leave them to her to smooth over. “i hear there is a great deal of trouble there. i hear the army has not been able to suppress this man called the prophet, with his preaching of

nynaeve did not know, the woman was quite capable of accusing her of having an arrogant manner, or of lecturing—and valan luca was hardly worth another altercation so soon after smoothing over the last. the shadows were lengthening by the time they reached sienda, a sizable village of stone and thatch with two inns. the first, the king’s lancer, had a

a tiny, flowered rug, and a washstand with a small mirror above it completed the furnishings. everything was clean and well polished, at least. the innkeeper plumped the pillows and smoothed the coverlets and said the mattresses were the best goose down and the lady’s men would be bringing her chests up by the back stairs and everything would be very

all those great polished columns and that sense of being watched from the dimness between. if there really was anybody there, birgitte would have known. she realized that she was smoothing the silk gown over her hips, and, to take her mind off eyes that were not there, she concentrated on the dress. it had been in good two rivers woolens

tower, whole and united. i could almost wish that every sister had sworn to elaida, whatever happened to siuan.” “and rand?” egwene kept her voice just as steady, just as smooth. the flames were beginning to put a little warmth into the air, but moiraine had just added her own chill. “the dragon reborn. you yourself said that he cannot be

asked. perhaps she was interested—she seemed interested in every fool twist and turn of politics and diplomacy—or perhaps she was just trying to stop an argument. she used to try smoothing over things all the time, before she became wrapped up in flirting with thom. “it isn’t the king, child.” his voice softened, for her. “it’s pedron niall. ailron does what

ready to rush over to catch her if she fell. luca moved nearer, as though the same thought was in his head. for a moment elayne stood on the platform, smoothing her dress. the platform looked much smaller, and higher, with her on it. then, delicately holding her skirts up as if to keep them out of mud, she stepped out

all but ran back the way he had come. the graying merchant’s wife had been a stern-faced woman when liandrin and the others came. now she licked her lips and smoothed her bow-draped green silk needlessly. “there is someone upstairs with the others, my lady,” she said diffidently. she had thought that she could use liandrin’s name that first day. “in

handsome woman in a bronze-colored gown of unfamiliar cut. the seated woman looked vaguely familiar, though she was not aes sedai; she was plainly approaching her middle years, and despite smooth cheeks there was nothing of agelessness about her. yet the mood made liandrin cautious. temaile was deceptively fragile in appearance, with big, childlike blue eyes that made people trust her;

political reasons. he had been married to tigraine, the daughter-heir whose disappearance had set off the succession when mordrellen died. marrying him had made a link with the old queen, smoothing the doubts of most of her opponents, and more importantly, had maintained the alliance that had ended the ceaseless wars with cairhien. in such ways did queens choose their husbands.

through again and again, never quite succeeding. a few minutes’ hard ride, and he could be in it. on one side of the pass mouth a sheer cliff had been smoothed over a hundred-pace width and carved, a wind-weathered snake entwining a staff a good three hundred spans high; monument or marker or ruler’s sigil, it surely dated from some lost

those unwinking stares, the hair on the back of min’s neck tried to stand up. leane appeared uneasy, casting sidelong glances at the people they rode past, but siuan stayed smooth-faced and calm as she led the way straight to the largest inn, the one with the unreadable sign, and scrambled down to tie bela to the iron ring of one

her fiery temper, even among the greens. “you must tell us,” anaiya added in a more kindly voice. exasperation tinged it, though. a blunt-featured woman, and motherly despite aes sedai smoothness to her face, at the moment stroking her pale gray skirts, she looked like a mother who was trying not to reach for a switch. “we will find a place

still the question of what to do with her.” she stared right at siuan, unblinking, and the others suddenly seemed uneasy. myrelle pursed her lips, and anaiya studied the floor. smoothing her dress, sheriam seemed to avoid looking at the newcomers at all. “we still know everything we knew before,” leane told them, her sudden frown at least half-worry. “we can

years. and as amyrlin, you pushed sisters where you wanted and only seldom explained why. the two do not make a likable combination.” “i will try to . . . smooth my tongue,” siuan said dryly. did the woman expect the amyrlin seat to treat every sister like a childhood friend? “but i hope what i’ve told you changes your desire

the amyrlin seat to treat every sister like a childhood friend? “but i hope what i’ve told you changes your desire to kneel at elaida’s feet?” “if that is your smoother tongue,” myrelle said idly, “i may have to smooth it myself, if we do allow you to run the eyes-and-ears for us.” “we cannot go back to the tower now,

childhood friend? “but i hope what i’ve told you changes your desire to kneel at elaida’s feet?” “if that is your smoother tongue,” myrelle said idly, “i may have to smooth it myself, if we do allow you to run the eyes-and-ears for us.” “we cannot go back to the tower now, of course,” sheriam said. “not knowing this. not until

knew how long a stilled woman could live given something to replace the one power in her life—but with purpose it would be long enough. so myrelle was going to smooth her tongue for her, was she? i’ll show that fox-eyed green—i will hold my tongue and be glad she isn’t doing more than look at me is what i’ll do.

the power often goes with strength of will, and whoever we choose will surely need that.” carlinya and beonin were the last to join in agreement. siuan kept her face smooth, her smile on the inside. the breaking of the tower had changed many things, many ways of thinking besides her own. these women had led the sisters gathered here, and

and make my life the pit of doom! so he’s going to save my life, is he? i don’t know that it is worth it.” taking a deep breath, she smoothed her skirts. “when you have those washed and ironed, bring them to me. i will take them up to him. you can clean his boots before you go to sleep

she always found a way to make the maidens let her by, and it always took a direct command for her to go before she would leave. the gai’shain rose smoothly, men and women, before he had the door closed. they would not sleep until he did, and some would take turns remaining awake in case he wanted something in the

enhanced by the void and saidin, soaked in the feel of her. her skin made silk feel rough. compared to her skin, satin was . . . don’t think. he smoothed damp hair away from her face. he should have dried it, but the water no longer felt so cold, and there was nothing but the blankets or their clothes to

angle, propped against snow that had built up around the hut. lying on his back, with only a bit of his head sticking out, he could see other mounds, some smooth drifts around sparse, stunted trees that he did not recognize, others maybe burying bushes or boulders. he opened his mouth—and forgot what he was going to say as something swept

he had seen armor like that before. and women collared like that. setting her down behind something that looked a little like a wind-twisted pine, except that its trunk was smooth and gray, streaked with black, he pointed, and she nodded silently. “the two women on leashes can channel,” he whispered. “can you block them?” hurriedly he added, “don’t embrace the

a green-and-white tasseled spear lanced through the opening, just before it snapped shut. instinctively, rand channeled air to snatch the suddenly wobbling two-foot length of spear. the shaft ended as smoothly as any craftsman could have worked it. shivering, he was glad that he had not tried removing the gray barrier—whatever it had been—before jumping through. “a good thing neither of

he might well have to face one day. he had to become harder. or else he would be ground to flour before he ever reached shayol ghul. abruptly she began smoothing her skirts, and her voice became almost conversational. “i notice that you did not save that whey-faced morsa from her fate. from the way you looked at her, i thought

the wagon door every night to try convincing her. the man was nothing if not deft at knowing when to change the subject. “what happened here?” he asked, suddenly all smooth solicitude. she flinched as he touched her puffy eye. it was his bad luck to choose that. he would have done better to continue trying to stuff her into that

with one hand, but she used both. “i thought you called them strikers.” “maybe yes, maybe no. firesticks, it says what they are much better than strikers, yes? i have smoothed the little holes that hold the sticks so they can no longer ignite on the wood. a good idea, no? and the heads, they are a new formulation. you will

as that. elayne laughed at her, and she scowled. “oh, nynaeve. ‘you cannot hold the sun down at dawn.’ lini could have been thinking of you.” with an effort nynaeve smoothed her face. she could too hold her temper. didn’t i just prove it out there? she held out her hand. “let me have the ring. he will want to cross

until she came to moghedien’s appearance among the wagons. that she rendered in painful detail. “i should be welted from the neck down,” she said bitterly at last, touching a smooth, unmarked arm. unmarked or not, she flinched. “i don’t understand why i am not. i feel it, but i deserve the welts, for stupid, foolish pride. for being too afraid

her cheeks. “i could not stay away,” she said, hanging her cloak back on its peg. “you sleep. i will watch her. i have to watch her.” elayne rose slowly, smoothing her skirts. perhaps watching over birgitte for a time would help nynaeve work matters out. “i don’t feel like sleeping yet, either.” she was exhausted, but not sleepy any longer.

hand and walked off another fifty as he stared after her. she shook her head over the bow, but braced it on her slippered foot and strung it in one smooth motion before luca joined her and elayne and nynaeve. birgitte pulled an arrow from the quiver he held, examined it a moment, then tossed it aside like rubbish. luca frowned

your own.” she swished a length of ashwood vigorously. “i am sure latelle will be happy to provide the switch.” nynaeve forced her jaws to unclench, forced her tone as smooth as she could make it. “you have a perfect right to do whatever you wish to me.” her fists in her skirts quivered more than her voice. “a touch of

for him to go back, shouted that there was a ladder behind him; the others only laughed uproariously, no doubt waiting for him to break his neck. he walked across smoothly, slid down the rope ladder with his hands and feet on the outside, and snatched up the wooden mug to take a deep drink. not until luca clapped the red

they might be soon. on the far platform, elayne paused to considerably more applause than juilin had received—nynaeve could not understand that—and started back. almost to the end, she pivoted smoothly, walked back halfway, pivoted again. and wobbled, just catching herself. nynaeve felt as though a hand had her by the throat. at a slow steady pace, elayne highwalked to the

did move aside then, slowly, as much as the narrow alley would allow, yet though neither said a word, there was an air of muttering about them. galad came by smoothly, seeming to forget the shienarans. she suspected that believing so would be a mistake; the top-knotted men plainly did not. aside from one of the forsaken, she could not imagine

the other way round. i did have orders for salidar, in altara, but all changed when this prophet fellow—what is the matter? are you unwell?” nyaneve forced her face to smoothness. “of course not,” she said irritably. “my health is quite good, thank you very kindly.” salidar! of course! the name was like one of aludra’s firesticks going off in her

probably safer than anywhere inside the city at that. since you have at least agreed to go to caemlyn, i will say no more on it.” she kept her face smooth and let him think as he wished. if he thought she had promised what she had not, that was his affair. she had to keep him away from the show

the woman stopped snickering. the glower slipped a little when nynaeve remembered who she was glowering at and what she had done to her, but if the woman had not smoothed her features, they might have found out whether she could bring herself to slap birgitte cross-eyed. they began walking again, and she said as levelly as she could manage, “this

least she had agreed. whatever made the fight shorter against the shaido must be for the good. moiraine’s face never changed, though he had no doubt what she thought. those smooth aes sedai features, those aes sedai eyes, could register icy disapproval without altering a jot. thrusting the piece of spear through his belt, he put foot to the first rung—and

field further behind than either of us. and regrets it less.” “maybe,” rand said sadly. “the light shine on you, mat,” he added, sticking out his hand, “and send you smooth roads, fair weather and pleasant company until we meet again.” that would not be soon, if mat had his way. he felt a little sad about that, and a little

she let egwene pull her up behind the saddle without the slightest protest. she smiled at sorilea, too. gritting his teeth, rand pulled himself into his own saddle in one smooth motion. aching muscles’ protests were buried under an avalanche of pain in his side, as though he had been stabbed anew, and it took a full minute before he could

he had said things, thought things. . . . his skin went cold. i cannot let him take control. i am me! me! fumbling beneath the blanket, he found the smooth round scar on his side, tender yet whole. “moiraine sedai healed you,” aviendha said, and he gave a start. he had not seen her, sitting cross-legged on the layered rugs

don’t know why meilan isn’t here, if he’s alive, but i mean to find out. natael, my horse?” she put on a stubborn face, but asmodean jerked his arm free, smoothing the wrinkled velvet, and said, “meilan was here, and others.” “he was not to be told—” aviendha began angrily, then tightened her mouth before finishing, “he needs to rest.” so

jumped and covered her bosom with both hands before she could stop herself. when birgitte climbed in instead of valan luca, she tried to pretend she was adjusting the neckline. smoothing identical brilliant blue silk over her hip, the taller woman pulled her thick black braid over one bare shoulder with a self-pleased grin. “if you want to draw attention, don’t

face was dramatic. muelin took an unconscious step toward him, and the two slender acrobats leaned forward, mouths open. the chavanas were plainly forgotten, and scowling for it. even clarine smoothed her dress as she watched him, until petra took his pipe from his mouth and said something. then she went over to where he sat, laughing, and snuggled his face

cheeks grow hotter, but her frosty stare wiped the grin from juilin’s face and astonishment from uno’s. whatever thom and galad thought, they had enough sense to keep their features smooth. she could not make herself look at birgitte or elayne. the worst was that she had to stand there and listen, wilted flowers drooping over her hand, her face growing

the stern, hands clenched behind his back, and stared at the few floating casks as they fell behind. in a way, it was neres’ peculiar attitude toward women that began smoothing the edges from elayne’s acid tongue, and birgitte’s. that was the way nynaeve saw it; she herself had maintained her usual even disposition, of course. neres disliked women. the crew

but laughing on one another’s shoulder, and the other men seemed to be thinking much the same, but the rest of the women aboard watched them with faces much too smooth. they knew trouble when they saw it. yet bit by bit, that trouble oozed away. nynaeve was not exactly sure how. perhaps the pleasant exteriors elayne and birgitte put on

have the habit of doing the opposite of what you told them as soon as your back was turned, just to see how you would react. yet she found herself smoothing back the dark hair of a boy no higher than her waist who stared up at her owlishly with bright blue eyes. they looked very like lan’s eyes. elayne and

c-coward.” the last words dissolved into tears she could neither stop nor hide, no matter how she scrubbed at her eyes. elayne was there in an instant, holding her and smoothing her hair, and an instant later, birgitte pressed a cloth dampened in cool water against the back of her neck. she cried herself out to the sound of them telling

appear so strange, nynaeve? have you learned to come waking?” nynaeve gave a little jump. she did so hate people sneaking up on her. “egwene, how did you—” she began, smoothing her skirts, at the same time that elayne said, “egwene, we can’t understand how you—” egwene broke in. “rand and the aiel have won a great victory at cairhien.” out

her throne.” even delivered in a perfectly level voice, that speech was a walk on thin ice. nynaeve was not the only one irritated by their fall from freedom. carlinya’s smooth face tightened. “you come with disturbing news,” sheriam said. “and some disturbing . . . things.” her slightly tilted eyes wandered to the table, to the silvery a’dam, and returned

crumpled the paper and its seal in her fist. “hardly something to be handed out to accepted.” “at the time, i did not know who i could trust,” siuan said smoothly. the six aes sedai stared at her. “it was within my authority then.” the six aes sedai did not blink. her voice took on a thread of exasperated pleading. “you

proper dresses may be harder to come by, but they will be found. i expect you to put your . . . adventures . . . behind you, and fit smoothly back into your proper place.” plain although unspoken was the promise that if they did not fit back in smoothly, they would be smoothed until they did. sheriam gave a

. . adventures . . . behind you, and fit smoothly back into your proper place.” plain although unspoken was the promise that if they did not fit back in smoothly, they would be smoothed until they did. sheriam gave a satisfied nod when she saw they understood. beonin had not said a word since the shield of saidar was lowered,

. . behind you, and fit smoothly back into your proper place.” plain although unspoken was the promise that if they did not fit back in smoothly, they would be smoothed until they did. sheriam gave a satisfied nod when she saw they understood. beonin had not said a word since the shield of saidar was lowered, but as nynaeve and

areina and nicola and marigan.” only when some of birgitte’s tension melted did nynaeve realize how much had been there. the blue-eyed woman scooped up the fallen yellow ball and smoothly tossed all three back to thom, who snagged them with one hand and made them vanish in a single motion. she wore the faintest of relieved grins. “i can’t tell

some way.” elayne’s mouth tightened. that was about what she had expected, but not what she wanted to hear. “wish” and “want” trip the feet, but “is” makes the path smoother. that was what lini said. you had to deal with what was, not what you wished was. “and you saw there would be someone else. someone i’d have to .

like a torch. the drought. the unnatural weather. he realized he was snarling silently. first work on what he knew he could do something about. it took an effort to smooth his face before he went in. asmodean, as well dressed as any lord, with falls of lace at his neck, plucked a soothing melody from his harp in one corner,

played during the civil war. you could still hear it sometimes when a cairhienin noble passed. “the fool who thought he was king.” “get out, natael. get out!” asmodean straightened smoothly, bowing, but his face could have done for snow, and he crossed the room quickly, as if uncertain what one second more might bring. he always pushed, but perhaps this

until they were so close even aviendha had to tilt her head back to look up at him. “moiraine can come if she wishes,” egwene said. if her voice was smooth ice, aviendha’s was molten stone. “but it is too dangerous for us.” “have you become my father? is your name bran al’vere?” “if you have three spears, do you put

white stockings, she wore not a stitch. “i would not shame you in front of other men,” she said abruptly. “shame me? what do you mean?” she stood in one smooth motion, surprisingly pale where the sun had not touched her, slender and hard-muscled, yet with roundnesses and softnesses that haunted his dreams. this was the first time he had allowed

reading this, i am gone, and so is lanfear. . . . rand’s hands tightened on the pages. she had known. known, and still she brought him here. hurriedly he smoothed out the crumpled paper. the other two paths were much worse. down one, lanfear killed you. down the other, she carried you away, and when next we saw you, you

he did not want details. there was a long gash down the wall in front of him. he knew what made that sharp edge, that surface as slick as ice, smoother than any hand could have polished in a hundred years. idly—but with a shiver, too—he wondered whether being reborn in this fashion made him a new man. he did not

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not sure if it was in anger, or to keep them from chattering. but fear could and must be controlled. control was all. “we are done, then,” alviarin said, rising smoothly from her stool. the others copied her, adjusting skirts and shawls in preparation for leaving. “in three days, i will expect—” “have i given you leave to go, daughters?” those

egwene muttered, folding her arms beneath her breasts. “and a stone couldn’t be as stubborn! moiraine is only trying to help you. why won’t you see that?” the aes sedai smoothed her silk skirts, though they did not need it. “taking the aiel across the dragonwall might be the worst thing you could possibly do.” there was an edge to her

quickly and unobtrusively as we can. perhaps elayne and i will have more luck finding vegetables than you did. would you care for a walk, elayne?” elayne got up immediately, smoothing her gray skirts and lifting her hat from the wagon. “that would be very nice, after that wagon seat. it might be different if thom and juilin let me take

turning back to nynaeve as the girl vanished through a door at the rear. “i live over the shop, you see, and my kitchen is in the back.” she was smoothing her skirts nervously, thumb and forefinger of her right hand forming a circle. for the great serpent ring. there would be no need for an excuse about the dress, it

seamstress’s face had gone so pale at the sight of them that her eyes seemed darker, and about to come out of her head besides. she licked her lips and smoothed her skirt incessantly, and cast quick little glances at juilin’s knife as if wondering whether it might not be best to run anyway. for the most part, though, she stared

ready to rush over to catch her if she fell. luca moved nearer, as though the same thought was in his head. for a moment elayne stood on the platform, smoothing her dress. the platform looked much smaller, and higher, with her on it. then, delicately holding her skirts up as if to keep them out of mud, she stepped out

her fiery temper, even among the greens. “you must tell us,” anaiya added in a more kindly voice. exasperation tinged it, though. a blunt-featured woman, and motherly despite aes sedai smoothness to her face, at the moment stroking her pale gray skirts, she looked like a mother who was trying not to reach for a switch. “we will find a place

and make my life the pit of doom! so he’s going to save my life, is he? i don’t know that it is worth it.” taking a deep breath, she smoothed her skirts. “when you have those washed and ironed, bring them to me. i will take them up to him. you can clean his boots before you go to sleep

he might well have to face one day. he had to become harder. or else he would be ground to flour before he ever reached shayol ghul. abruptly she began smoothing her skirts, and her voice became almost conversational. “i notice that you did not save that whey-faced morsa from her fate. from the way you looked at her, i thought

her cheeks. “i could not stay away,” she said, hanging her cloak back on its peg. “you sleep. i will watch her. i have to watch her.” elayne rose slowly, smoothing her skirts. perhaps watching over birgitte for a time would help nynaeve work matters out. “i don’t feel like sleeping yet, either.” she was exhausted, but not sleepy any longer.

your own.” she swished a length of ashwood vigorously. “i am sure latelle will be happy to provide the switch.” nynaeve forced her jaws to unclench, forced her tone as smooth as she could make it. “you have a perfect right to do whatever you wish to me.” her fists in her skirts quivered more than her voice. “a touch of

appear so strange, nynaeve? have you learned to come waking?” nynaeve gave a little jump. she did so hate people sneaking up on her. “egwene, how did you—” she began, smoothing her skirts, at the same time that elayne said, “egwene, we can’t understand how you—” egwene broke in. “rand and the aiel have won a great victory at cairhien.” out

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Lord of Chaos - Robert Jordan.txt

that it emitted no smoke or steam. it gaped enough for two men abreast, but the myrddraal kept the lead. the way slanted down almost immediately, the tunnel floor worn smooth as polished tiles. the cold faded as demandred followed shaidar haran’s broad back down and down, slowly replaced by increasing heat. demandred was aware of it, but did not let

them ran the networks of eyes-and-ears for the aes sedai here in salidar, the agents who sent in reports and rumors of what was going on in the world. nynaeve smoothed her own skirts to soothe herself. her dress was plain white wool, with seven bands of color at the hem, one for each ajah. an accepted’s dress. it annoyed her

rivers youths learned about the outside world now. “i could ask perrin to speak to you, if you wish.” they stirred, daise looking for him expectantly, edelle and milla automatically smoothing their skirts, elwinn just as unconsciously drawing her braid over her shoulder and arranging it carefully. abruptly they realized what they were doing and froze, not looking at one another.

hands as shift him, but with care it could be avoided. usually. abruptly she threw her arms around him and buried her face against his broad chest. his strong hands smoothed her hair softly; he probably thought she was worried about him leaving. well, she was, in a way. just not about him leaving without her; he had not yet learned

vague. surely elayne must be safe. she should be worried about gawyn too, and galad—the light knew where they were—but elayne was her heir. peace in andor depended on a smooth succession. she had to think carefully. it all hung together, yet well-crafted lies did, and this man would be a master at that craft. she needed facts. that andor believed

sympathy came from it, she could make use of it when she rose from the dead. facts. “i will need time to think,” she told him. “of course.” niall rose smoothly; she would have risen too, so he did not tower over her, but she was not sure her legs would support her. “i will return in a day or two.

swept at a time of year when they should have held roaring fires. proof enough that the last battle was near. carridin bowed deeply and knelt on the sunburst, worn smooth by centuries of feet and knees. “have you speculated on why i sent for you, carridin?” after almoth plain and falme, after tanchico, the man could not be blamed if

way to die, she would have destroyed the halfman, or traveled from the pit itself. “where is he?” semirhage raised her eyes from her stitchery, unblinking dark eyes in a smooth dark face, then put aside the needlework and stood gracefully. “he will come when he comes,” she said calmly. she was always calm, just as she was always graceful. “if

lir said with a small bow and a slight frown. the high seat of house baryn was blade-slender and blade-strong in a yellow coat adorned with gold braid, but too smoothly unctuous, too smooth altogether. nothing but those occasional frowns ever sullied that surface, as if he was unaware of them, yet he was hardly the only one to give rand

a small bow and a slight frown. the high seat of house baryn was blade-slender and blade-strong in a yellow coat adorned with gold braid, but too smoothly unctuous, too smooth altogether. nothing but those occasional frowns ever sullied that surface, as if he was unaware of them, yet he was hardly the only one to give rand strange looks. they

andorans had put up their swords, but their eyes remained on bashere malevolently. nothing to do with how close he had come to killing rand. usually they kept their faces smooth around bashere, for all he was a foreign general with a foreign army on andoran soil. the dragon reborn wanted bashere there, and this lot would have smiled at a

beard as well as thick mustaches. he walked like a man more used to a saddle under him than his own feet, but he handled the sword at his hip smoothly as he bowed. to bashere, more than to rand. bashere might follow the dragon reborn, but tumad—rand thought that was his name; tumad ahzkan—followed bashere. enaila and three other maidens

rooster.” he tried to stop listening. the defenders stiffened even more rigidly at his approach, if that was possible, and the two standing before the gold-fringed entry flaps stepped aside smoothly, pulling them open. their eyes stared past the aiel women. rand had led the defenders of the stone once, in a desperate fight against myrddraal and trollocs in the halls

“let’s see the maps. sammael is more important than a handful of fools rotting in haddon mirk.” he hoped they did rot. burn them! weiramon’s mouth tightened, and tolmeran quickly smoothed out a frown. sunamon’s face was so smooth it might have been a mask. the other tairens looked as doubtful, and the cairhienin as well, though semaradrid hid it well.

than a handful of fools rotting in haddon mirk.” he hoped they did rot. burn them! weiramon’s mouth tightened, and tolmeran quickly smoothed out a frown. sunamon’s face was so smooth it might have been a mask. the other tairens looked as doubtful, and the cairhienin as well, though semaradrid hid it well. some had seen myrddraal and trollocs during that

as enaila. and of course, aiel despised “treekillers,” one of their names for cairhienin, beyond any other wetlanders. their other name for them was “oathbreakers.” “the illianers,” rand said firmly, smoothing the map out. he used the dragon scepter to hold down one end and a gold-mounted inkpot and matching sand-bowl for the other. he did not need these men to

round loaf of bread and a pitcher of mint tea that had been set in a bucket of water to cool. “you do not eat enough,” somara said, trying to smooth his hair before he moved his head away. enaila eyed him. “if you did not avoid aviendha so, she would see that you ate.” “he attracts her interest, then runs

foot sliding after. dip and a gliding step and slide, with arms outstretched. betse caught on quickly, and she was light on her feet. when they reached the musicians, he smoothly lifted her hands overhead and spun himself and her back to back. then it was dip and sidestep, twirl face-to-face, dip, sidestep and twirl, again and again, all the way

with enmity. finally she said, “little enough.” she would not forget that he had seen her lose control. none of her anger came out in her voice; her tone was smooth, even offhand. “semirhage missed the last gathering; i don’t know why, and i do not think mesaana or demandred does either. mesaana in particular was annoyed, though she tried to

great mistress.” graendal set the goblet atop a table that at first glance seemed to be inlaid with ivory dancers. “then he shall speak with the lady basene.” ebram rose smoothly and offered an arm for the frail domani woman he now saw. he knew who lay behind the weaving of illusion, but even so the reverence on his face faded

tenderly dabbed away sweat. “i know this is very hard on you, cabriana,” she said warmly. “you must try not to make it more difficult.” with a soft touch she smoothed damp hair away from the woman’s face. “would you like something to drink?” not waiting for an answer, she channeled; a battered metal flask floated from the small table in

herself might help, since she had done nothing. it might also have them both scrubbing floors. at least it made nynaeve look at her. and think, apparently, since her features smoothed into something that did seem appeasing and she made a curtsy and stared at the ground as though abashed. maybe she really was. maybe. elayne rushed on as if nynaeve

an accepted took what aes sedai wished to hand out and did not ask for what aes sedai did not choose to give. such as apologies. she kept her face smooth and her smoldering inside. siuan felt under no such restraints. most of the time she did not. when the aes sedai were not looking at her, she bathed them all

rand’s amnesty was evident in the condition of 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

than black, had his thumbs tucked behind his sword belt, trying to appear at ease, but his grip was white-knuckle tight. “as i was saying,” logain went on with a smooth smile, “they found me, and gave me a choice of death on the spot or taking what they offered. a strange choice, not at all what i expected, but not

through the crowd. siuan stared after him, frowning. “what was that all about?” nynaeve asked, and siuan gave a start. “none of your business is what it was,” she snapped, smoothing her dress. you would have thought nynaeve had sneaked up on her purposely. the woman always took everything personally. “let it pass,” nynaeve said levelly. she was not going to

to a full sister. lelaine held her eyes until she let her gaze drop. her knuckles whitened around her braid before she could let go, but she kept her face smooth. trying to trade stares with an aes sedai was a woolhead’s trick for an accepted. “we are all fools sometimes, child, yet a wise woman learns to limit how often.

the other thing most wilders had in common was a block, something they had built up in their minds to hide their channeling even from themselves. nynaeve kept her face smooth with an effort. to be able to channel whenever she wanted. to be raised aes sedai. neither would remedy the problem of moghedien, but she would be able to go

in the mirror, omerna believed anything. eventually the man ran down, and niall said, “i will give your reports due consideration, omerna. you have done well.” how the fellow preened, smoothing his tabard. “leave me, now. on your way out, send balwer in. i have some letters to dictate.” “of course, my lord captain commander. ah.” in the middle of his

of course rise quickly, as the sun in splendor does.” she basked in the appreciative murmurs from some of the other women for her pitiful pun. morgase kept her face smooth with difficulty. niall’s news last evening, during one of his surprise visits, had come as a shock. galad a whitecloak! at least he was safe, so niall said. but unable

varying degrees of commiseration. doubtless they expected the aes sedai to skin him if he did not speak right and sit straight. perhaps verin and alanna did, too. with a smooth bow he motioned for alanna to proceed him. so he had come a long way, had he? they had no idea how far. alanna acknowledged his bow with a nod,

if either aes sedai had noticed that the heat touched him no more than it did them. “will you be taking them to the rebels?” he asked immediately. frowning, verin smoothed her skirts. “you know considerably more about that than we do.” “we did not hear of events in the tower until whitebridge.” alanna’s tone was cool, but there was heat

your followers broke you free, so i heard, else you’d have ended up in tar valon like logain, gentled. these men won’t have followers. find haslin.” the other man bowed smoothly. “as my lord dragon commands. was that what brought my lord dragon here? haslin and swords?” the merest hint of contempt tinged his voice, but rand ignored it. “there are

let slip, and what use could moghedien make of it? another accepted entered the dim hall from the small house’s front room, and nynaeve straightened, tucking the goosemint away and smoothing her dress. every room but the front one had been made into sleeping quarters, and accepted and servants filled them, three or four to a room not much larger than

as i could reach a horse. i will not go through that to gain you a day you don’t need.” nynaeve remained calm. she made an effort to maintain a smooth face, to not grind her teeth, to not yank her braid. she was calm. “i never heard any story about you spying on aes sedai.” as soon as the words

stared at all unless she had a reason. “would you like cool mint tea?” janya said, and it was nynaeve’s turn to blink. “i do think tea is comforting. it smooths conversation, i always find.” not waiting for an answer, the birdlike brown sister began filling mismatched cups from a blue-striped teapot on the sideboard. a rock stood in place of

useful, especially a ter’angreal, nynaeve could not imagine. but elayne was standing right beside her, staring at the same chest. nynaeve put a hand on the lid—the hinges would open smoothly—and pushed it up. there was not even the hint of a squeal. inside, two heavily rusted swords and an equally brown breastplate with a hole eaten through it lay atop

of disturbed bees, rose from the onlookers as they gave way. the murmuring lasted until tarna passed from sight, out of the village, and romanda climbed up onto the cart, smoothly hitching her yellow-fringed shawl into place. dead silence fell. by tradition the eldest sitter made pronouncements from the hall. romanda did not move like an old woman, of course, and

. . or . . . !” she trailed off in furious splutters and panting. she had hardly drawn breath through the entire tirade. elayne’s first wincing instinct was to smooth it over somehow, though how was a question she could not begin to answer. as easy to smooth over a mountain range. it was the aes sedai who made her

drawn breath through the entire tirade. elayne’s first wincing instinct was to smooth it over somehow, though how was a question she could not begin to answer. as easy to smooth over a mountain range. it was the aes sedai who made her forget to worry whether nynaeve had managed to shatter everything. those expressionless faces, those eyes that seemed able

make anything so, everything would be a deal easier. i was the lord of the morning, lews therin mumbled. i am the prince of the dawn. rand kept his face smooth. “i will not welcome you—this is your land, and the palace of your queen—but i am pleased you accept my invitation.” after five days, and with just a few hours’

away in pairs, some wearing riding dresses with divided skirts, some men’s coats and breeches. most were awkward in the forms if vigorous, while others flowed from stance to stance smoothly yet swung the bundled-lathe blades hesitantly. all wore grim determination like a cloak, though grimness was likely to break into rueful laughter when one realized she had made a mistake.

if they had swallowed sour plums, but he snatched up the dragon scepter and left. in the hallway, jalani and a yellow-haired red shield not much older than she came smoothly to their feet, glancing at one another hastily. otherwise the corridor was empty except for a few scurrying servants. one of each; it figured, though rand wondered whether urien had

his teeth, and began rummaging across the table. “i have a tinderbox here somewhere.” “what do you mean it can’t be the last battle?” rand tried to keep his voice smooth. herid always came to the point; you just had to prod him toward it. “what? yes, exactly the point. it can’t be the last battle. even if the dragon reborn

shoulders and said, “he is not here. he has gone to his school. berelain paeron suggests it would not be wise to follow him, and i agree.” keeping her face smooth was an effort for egwene. that the wise ones would take to berelain had been the last thing she expected. they treated her as a woman of sense and respect,

her. luckily, the wise one must have had business of her own to see to, or she might well have pushed her way in. drawing a deep breath, egwene began smoothing her skirts and adjusting her shawl. they did not need it, but she felt as if she had been tumbled downhill. the woman more than liked to play matchmaker. she

you mean somebody who’s dead?” aviendha’s dark reddish hair swung below her shoulders as she shook her head. “they know no more than i said.” to his surprise, she rose smoothly with those automatic adjustments to her clothes that women always made. “do you—” he coughed deliberately. do you have to go? he had been about to say. light, he wanted

dalar had some interesting things to say concerning—” this time when covril opened her mouth, his head whipped around; he stared at her, long eyebrows humping up, and she began smoothing her skirts furiously. but she stared right back. “five years is a short time, i know,” haman told rand, while watching covril sharply from the corner of his eye, “but

would be able to hear, then—and rejected it disgustedly. he had not sunk to eavesdropping yet. erith divided her attention evenly between her elders and rand, all the while unconsciously smoothing her skirts. rand hoped they did not inquire why he had not asked his question of the council of elders in stedding tsofu. alar, eldest of the elders there, had

. my loial. . . .” haman came back to rand tugging at his coat as though it had been ripped half off, followed by the women. covril maintained a smoother face than erith, who fought to suppress a smile, but their tufted ears were at the same jaunty angle, somehow conveying satisfaction. “we have decided,” haman said stiffly, “to accept

it was like tearing his own arm off. the pain was a much more suitable memorial for liah than a scratch. chapter 22 heading south the five stones made a smoothly spinning circle above mat’s hands, one red, one blue, one clear green, the others striped in interesting ways. he rode on, guiding pips with his knees, the black-hafted spear thrust

wiry bush not far away had been trimmed along one side, thin branches with small leaves lying on the ground. a very neat trimming, perfectly flat, the severed branch ends smooth as though planed by a cabinetmaker. the hair on the back of mat’s neck stirred. one of those holes in the air that rand used had been opened here. bad

enough to loose it. “if he fails to chase you out of illian like a cosa scampering up a tree, perhaps—” “that might be waiting too long,” he cut in smoothly. “too long for you, that is.” “is that supposed to be a threat, sammael?” her gown shifted to a pale rose, but she let it stay. let him be aware

agreed not to aid any other chosen should al’thor find them. all very much in accordance with the great lord’s commands, wouldn’t you say?” “of course.” she kept her face smooth, but the streith had gone a deeper rose, losing some of its mistiness. in part the color was still anger. there was more to this, but how was she to

began to channel. if one of them was looking out on this side, she would be able to see the flows, but not egwene. it had to be risked. the smooth stone was just that, a stone polished in a stream, but egwene had learned this trick from moiraine, and moiraine had used a stone for a focus—a gem as it

us,” she snapped to the servants. katerine smiled. “we intend to offer him escort to tar valon,” nesune said precisely, but she felt the smallest flash of irritation. despite a smooth face, the tairen kept shifting his feet, anxious in the presence of an aes sedai, perhaps apprehensive that she might channel. only an amadician would have been worse. “once he

wagered on it—“though hawkwing’s finest, of course. endara resigned her. warrant and knelt to ishara as queen.” somehow, rand did not believe it had happened quite that way, or so smoothly. “they were the worst of times, of course, quite as bad as the trolloc wars, i am sure. with hawkwing dead, every noble thought to become high king. or high

nesune merely nodded to herself, adding to her mental notes. egwene hoped desperately that he would be careful. nesune would not miss anything. with a visible effort coiren gathered herself, smoothing her dress and very nearly adjusting the shawl she was not wearing. “i have the honor,” she announced in ringing tones, “to be coiren saeldain aes sedai, ambassador from the

dangling. “it will take a little time, you understand. i have commitments to meet first, here, in andor, elsewhere.” coiren’s mouth tightened for just an instant. her voice remained as smooth and round as ever, though. “we surely have no objections to resting a few days before we begin the return journey to tar valon. in the meanwhile, may i suggest

when they entered, seemingly not at all put out by the lack of a knock. rising leisurely, he tapped out his pipe, donned his coat and only then made a smooth leg. “it is good to see you again after so long. i thought you had forgotten me. will you join me in some wine? the aes sedai keep me on

as strong, nothing wrong with him in the slightest—except for the hole. it was not really a hole, more a feeling that what seemed continuous was not, that what seemed smooth and straight was really skirting around an absence. she knew that sensation well, from the early days, back when she thought she might really learn something. it still made her

dangerous to experiment with healing; a mistake could kill not only you but your patient. she said nothing in reply, but the warnings died off quickly in rueful glances and smoothed skirts; she had not killed anyone, and she had healed what they said could not be healed. leane wore such a hopeful smile that it was almost painful. nynaeve approached

gracefully. then she heard what they were saying. “. . . used fire and earth as if she were trying to bore a hole through stone.” that from dagdara. “a smoother touch would be better,” shanelle agreed. “. . . see where fire might be useful in problems with the heart,” therva said, tapping her long nose. beldemaine, a plump arafellin

forever. the only reason they let me go tonight was that i couldn’t find saidar even when nisao. . . .” she shuddered, and then her hands began moving again, smoothing in the cream. elayne let out a small breath. she had very nearly put her foot in it. she was tired, too. admitting you had been wrong always made the

simply a matter of how best to move in areas unrelated to andor. i insist you take this as simply more time for me to enjoy your company.” balwer bowed smoothly if somewhat prissily, yet she was almost certain his eyes nearly jerked toward niall in surprise. she herself nearly gaped. he pressed her and pressed her, and now he had

to the city. the riverbank.” the fellow flung himself against his oars so hard she almost fell over backward. he took her to a spot where the shore was all smooth rocks the size of her head. there was no one in sight, but she leaped out as soon as the boat grated onto the rocks, hoisted her skirts and darted

woman has no toh toward me.” “this woman has no toh toward me.” that was bair’s thin voice. “this woman has no toh toward me,” sorilea said forcefully. bending, she smoothed damp hair from egwene’s face. “i knew you were aiel in your heart. do not be overproud now, girl. you have met your toh. get up before we think you

of everybody, and that is what i’d be doing. if this is why the hall summoned me, i’ll tell them no.” “i fear that is not an option,” anaiya sighed, smoothing her robe, a surprisingly frilly thing in rose silk, with delicate ivory lace bordering every edge. “you cannot refuse a summons to become amyrlin any more than you could a

stone building a gong sounded deeply, once, twice, a third time. egwene very nearly jumped. silence for the space of a heartbeat; then the gong repeated its brazen song. myrelle smoothed her dress unconsciously. once more silence, followed by the triple call. sheriam opened the door, and egwene followed her in with myrelle and morvrin on her heels. the way they

stole. “who comes before the hall of the tower?” romanda demanded in a high, clear voice. she sat just below the colorful chair, opposite the three blue sisters. sheriam stepped smoothly aside, revealing egwene. “one who comes obediently, in the light,” egwene said. her voice should have been shaking. surely they were not really going to do this. “who comes before

gave it. i mean, if i’m not really amyrlin, then it isn’t hard to push me aside. there might be a few mutters, but i have no doubt they could smooth those over fast enough. if anyone outside salidar ever heard somebody named egwene al’vere was raised amyrlin, it would just be one of those peculiar rumors that grow up around

to win that staring match, but before he could make a bet with himself, another aes sedai joined them, a woman whose bony-cheeked face gave an impression of age despite smooth cheeks and glossy brown hair. “do you be aware you can channel, girl?” “i am,” aviendha said curtly and snapped her mouth shut as if intending to say no more.

him. mat was tall for a two rivers man, considerably taller than she, considerably stronger, and there was a decidedly dangerous glint in his eye. she glanced at egwene, and smoothed her dress, trying to maintain her stern face. mat stalked nearer, face like thunder. another hasty glance, worry beginning to show, was followed by a small step back. “mat,” egwene

aes sedai except what the amyrlin chose to give her, and most assuredly none to dismiss anyone from the amyrlin’s presence, yet that look was clearly a dismissal. elayne rose smoothly, making a deep formal curtsy to egwene. “if you will excuse me, mother, i should go find aviendha.” nynaeve, on the other hand, locked eyes with sheriam until egwene cleared

here now? mat won’t do anything, but all it needs is a handful of lord bryne’s soldiers deciding to take matters into their own hands.” egwene frowned at her skirts, smoothed them as if thinking worriedly, then sighed. “the longer we sit and do nothing with an army of dragonsworn staring at us, the worse it will be. i won’t be

fiercely to be about her work that tabiya squeaked and dropped a wide-eyed curtsy that nearly put her head on the floor and ran. for a moment sheriam busied herself smoothing her skirts while she regained her composure. “perhaps,” she said finally, reluctantly, “it might be necessary for us to leave salidar after all. sooner than i could wish.” “but the

stone of tear, but she did know they hid their emotions, and aviendha did it very well. only now, naked pain painted her face. “i’m sorry,” elayne told the room smoothly, “but i must take her away from you for a little while. perhaps you can talk to her later.” several of the sisters hesitated on the brink of protest, though

rooms at the crown of roses, in the new city; they practically took it over, with all the warders and servants. merana sent me first because i know you, to smooth the way. they don’t mean you any harm, rand. i am sure of it.” “a viewing, min, or your opinion?” it seemed odd to be carrying on a serious conversation

seemed more than a little contemptuous of those who called themselves aes sedai now. but what had been a limit in cairhien was different here. merana wanted him calmed and smoothed down before even one aes sedai came near. let her chew on an invitation for three to begin and think what it might mean. “aside from that, none are to

took care of myself while you were tending sheep, farmboy.” abruptly she had a knife in either hand; a flourish, and they went back up her sleeves, not quite so smoothly as they had come out. in a much more sober tone, she said, “you must take care of yourself, rand. rest. you look tired.” startlingly, she went a-tiptoe and stretched

merana said. “i think it unlikely they were.” alanna stared at them, blinking. “then i have not ruined everything?” they all three nodded, and she took a deep breath, then smoothed at her skirts with a frown as if just noticing the wrinkles. “i may yet be able to make him accept me.” the wrinkles were abandoned, and her face and

half expected an indignant demand to take them down, and that never materialized. when he returned to the little tower, an aes sedai who somehow managed to be prune-faced despite smooth ageless cheeks shifted her brown-fringed shawl and told him in no uncertain terms that the amyrlin seat was busy; perhaps she could see him in a day or two. perhaps.

his shoulder. “dannil, take everybody back to that meadow we passed about three miles back and make camp. if a farmer shows up to complain, give him some gold and smooth him down. let him know he’ll be paid for any damage. aram, you go with them.” dannil lewin, a beanpole of a man with a thick mustache that almost hid

directed to this apartment . . . aes sedai.” the pause was barely long enough to notice, and the woman just missed turning the title into a question. elayne rose, smoothing her skirts; no stranger would suspect that that smooth face hid anger, but there was a hint of tightness at the corners of eyes and mouth. “shall we go, then?

the pause was barely long enough to notice, and the woman just missed turning the title into a question. elayne rose, smoothing her skirts; no stranger would suspect that that smooth face hid anger, but there was a hint of tightness at the corners of eyes and mouth. “shall we go, then? nynaeve? aviendha? birgitte?” “i am not aes sedai, elayne,”

and embarrassment did not go together very well. it was probably to the good. if she could channel, she might make an even bigger fool of herself. elayne moved to smooth things over without a pause. “i know you have heard this before,” she told tylin, “but let me add my apologies to those of merilille and the others. gathering an

and perrin; she gave a start too. “jalani,” rand said, “tell nandera i am going to the grand hall, where i expect aes sedai shortly.” she tried to maintain a smooth face, but the beginnings of a self-satisfied grin made her cheeks seem even plumper. “beralna has already gone to inform nandera, car’a’carn.” loial’s ears flickered in surprise at the title.

then demira turned without so much as a nod of her head. as she passed seonid and rafela, they fell in behind her, and the others in turn, all gliding smoothly, without hurry, across the red and white tiles and out of the grand hall. rand stepped down from the dais as they vanished into the corridor. “the car’a’carn handled them

to the floor, he was going to have a long wait, and in the meantime, he had surely put their backs up. there had to be some way she could smooth that over, if she could just see how. the second problem was the aes sedai. rand seemed to think this was some sort of snit that he could end by

thought made lews therin surge again, screaming. to his surprise, she flourished those knives out of her coatsleeves and opened her mouth, but then slid the blades back just as smoothly—she must have been practicing—before she spoke. “you can lead me by the nose to cairhien or anywhere else, sheepherder, but you better dig deep and try hard if you think

gave a great start. he was constantly apologizing to her for the half-smoked pipe he still never seemed to remember to light, constantly brushing ash from his stout belly, constantly smoothing his thin gray hair. min seemed to enjoy it, though why she enjoyed a man forgetting her presence, rand could not begin to say. she even kissed fel on top

her smile seemed to come from a great height; she seemed to be wondering how he would skin out for a lap rug. she had a strange smell, hard and smooth and somehow . . . high. “i don’t really know what rand intends to do,” he told meilan. the man very nearly repeated his nose-staring, for all he smiled nearly

his nose, he could not recognize berelain’s scent until she had crept close enough to pounce. well, truth to tell, she glided up along the hallways, a swan on a smooth pond, but it certainly felt like being pounced on. he mentioned faile more times than he could count; berelain did not seem to hear. he asked her to stop; berelain

next crossing corridor, just the instant before he jerked back. it must have seemed to faile that he moved away because he saw her. without a moment’s hesitation, faile turned smoothly on her heel, her pace not a whit slower or faster. he ran after her, caught up and walked alongside in pained silence. a man could hardly say what he

bring her here. no questions, sulin. just do it.” she managed to smile and grind her teeth at the same time, a remarkable sight. “as my lord dragon commands.” a smooth curtsy spread red-and-white skirts wide and lowered her face halfway to the floor. “how long?” he asked as she turned to go. there was no need to say until what;

realized that he was laughing, and he could not stop. he could not stop feeling at the barrier, either, a blind man sliding his fingers desperately across a piece of smooth glass. galina frowned after the departing aielwomen until they topped a rise and vanished down the other side. every one of those women except sevanna herself had been able to

head. they were not names as such, really, but images and sensations. young bull was a very simple image to name a wolf. two moons was really a night-shrouded pool, smooth as ice in the instant before the breeze stirred, with a tang of autumn in the air, and one moon hanging full in the sky and another reflected so perfectly

the women came close. maidens and siswai’aman looked at the aes sedai as though they expected the women to crush them underfoot, but though the wise ones kept faces as smooth as the aes sedai, perrin smelled waves of pure fury from them. except for a brown named masuri, the aes sedai ignored the wise ones entirely at first, but after

at first, but after masuri had been rebuffed at least two dozen times over the next few days—she was persis tent, yet the wise ones avoided the aes sedai so smoothly that perrin thought they must do it by instinct—after that, bera and kiruna and all the rest were constantly looking at the wise ones and talking among themselves behind some

in rage like a furnace. help me, he snarled at lews therin. help me, the man groaned. the light help me. muttering darkly, rand returned to feeling blindly across that smooth plain to the six soft points. sooner or later, they would let him out. sooner or later, they would slacken their guard. and when they did. . . . he

sense of relief welled up inside rand, though not enough to still the distant churning in his stomach. min had her face pressed against his shirt; she was weeping. he smoothed her hair. “asha’man”—he had never been more glad of the void draining emotion from his voice—“you have done well. i congratulate you, taim.” he turned away so he would not

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them ran the networks of eyes-and-ears for the aes sedai here in salidar, the agents who sent in reports and rumors of what was going on in the world. nynaeve smoothed her own skirts to soothe herself. her dress was plain white wool, with seven bands of color at the hem, one for each ajah. an accepted’s dress. it annoyed her

rivers youths learned about the outside world now. “i could ask perrin to speak to you, if you wish.” they stirred, daise looking for him expectantly, edelle and milla automatically smoothing their skirts, elwinn just as unconsciously drawing her braid over her shoulder and arranging it carefully. abruptly they realized what they were doing and froze, not looking at one another.

if either aes sedai had noticed that the heat touched him no more than it did them. “will you be taking them to the rebels?” he asked immediately. frowning, verin smoothed her skirts. “you know considerably more about that than we do.” “we did not hear of events in the tower until whitebridge.” alanna’s tone was cool, but there was heat

away in pairs, some wearing riding dresses with divided skirts, some men’s coats and breeches. most were awkward in the forms if vigorous, while others flowed from stance to stance smoothly yet swung the bundled-lathe blades hesitantly. all wore grim determination like a cloak, though grimness was likely to break into rueful laughter when one realized she had made a mistake.

her. luckily, the wise one must have had business of her own to see to, or she might well have pushed her way in. drawing a deep breath, egwene began smoothing her skirts and adjusting her shawl. they did not need it, but she felt as if she had been tumbled downhill. the woman more than liked to play matchmaker. she

dalar had some interesting things to say concerning—” this time when covril opened her mouth, his head whipped around; he stared at her, long eyebrows humping up, and she began smoothing her skirts furiously. but she stared right back. “five years is a short time, i know,” haman told rand, while watching covril sharply from the corner of his eye, “but

would be able to hear, then—and rejected it disgustedly. he had not sunk to eavesdropping yet. erith divided her attention evenly between her elders and rand, all the while unconsciously smoothing her skirts. rand hoped they did not inquire why he had not asked his question of the council of elders in stedding tsofu. alar, eldest of the elders there, had

as strong, nothing wrong with him in the slightest—except for the hole. it was not really a hole, more a feeling that what seemed continuous was not, that what seemed smooth and straight was really skirting around an absence. she knew that sensation well, from the early days, back when she thought she might really learn something. it still made her

dangerous to experiment with healing; a mistake could kill not only you but your patient. she said nothing in reply, but the warnings died off quickly in rueful glances and smoothed skirts; she had not killed anyone, and she had healed what they said could not be healed. leane wore such a hopeful smile that it was almost painful. nynaeve approached

to the city. the riverbank.” the fellow flung himself against his oars so hard she almost fell over backward. he took her to a spot where the shore was all smooth rocks the size of her head. there was no one in sight, but she leaped out as soon as the boat grated onto the rocks, hoisted her skirts and darted

here now? mat won’t do anything, but all it needs is a handful of lord bryne’s soldiers deciding to take matters into their own hands.” egwene frowned at her skirts, smoothed them as if thinking worriedly, then sighed. “the longer we sit and do nothing with an army of dragonsworn staring at us, the worse it will be. i won’t be

fiercely to be about her work that tabiya squeaked and dropped a wide-eyed curtsy that nearly put her head on the floor and ran. for a moment sheriam busied herself smoothing her skirts while she regained her composure. “perhaps,” she said finally, reluctantly, “it might be necessary for us to leave salidar after all. sooner than i could wish.” “but the

merana said. “i think it unlikely they were.” alanna stared at them, blinking. “then i have not ruined everything?” they all three nodded, and she took a deep breath, then smoothed at her skirts with a frown as if just noticing the wrinkles. “i may yet be able to make him accept me.” the wrinkles were abandoned, and her face and

directed to this apartment . . . aes sedai.” the pause was barely long enough to notice, and the woman just missed turning the title into a question. elayne rose, smoothing her skirts; no stranger would suspect that that smooth face hid anger, but there was a hint of tightness at the corners of eyes and mouth. “shall we go, then?

the pause was barely long enough to notice, and the woman just missed turning the title into a question. elayne rose, smoothing her skirts; no stranger would suspect that that smooth face hid anger, but there was a hint of tightness at the corners of eyes and mouth. “shall we go, then? nynaeve? aviendha? birgitte?” “i am not aes sedai, elayne,”

bring her here. no questions, sulin. just do it.” she managed to smile and grind her teeth at the same time, a remarkable sight. “as my lord dragon commands.” a smooth curtsy spread red-and-white skirts wide and lowered her face halfway to the floor. “how long?” he asked as she turned to go. there was no need to say until what;

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A Crown of Swords - Robert Jordan.txt

room behind her chimed third rise, and in the city gongs and bells pealed the hour, the sound faint here, so high above. with a smile, elaida left the window, smoothing her red-slashed dress of cream silk and adjusting the broad, striped stole of the amyrlin seat on her shoulders. on the ornately gilded clock, small figures of gold and silver

seems he counted the supply carts that go out from the city. and you are aware of the rumors mazrim taim is with them.” elaida fought to keep her features smooth, and barely succeeded. she had forbidden mention of taim’s name, and it was bitter that she did not dare—did not dare!—impose the penalty on alviarin. the woman looked her straight

of touching the true source. have toveine attend me. i will want to hear her plan.” “it will be as you command, mother.” the woman’s reply was as cool and smooth as her face. “though if i may suggest, you might wish to reconsider sending so many sisters away from the tower. apparently the rebels found your offer wanting. they are

“but i would not care if they did have twenty thousand, or fifty, or a hundred. can you even begin to guess why?” when she turned, alviarin’s face was all smooth composure, a mask over blind ignorance. “you seem to be conversant with all the aspects of tower law. what penalty do rebels face?” “for the leaders,” alviarin said slowly, “stilling.”

ones clustered there, and normally at least some would be watching her like vultures, but their eyes were all on the rise. more than one adjusted her shawl uneasily or smoothed bulky skirts. sevanna’s lip curled. sweat beaded on some of those faces. sweat! where was their honor that they showed nerves before every gaze? everyone stiffened slightly as a young

again; he would see to that. in green silk, with a high lace collar brushing her chin, she looked every inch a queen despite the sheen of perspiration on her smooth cheeks. she hardly appeared old enough to have a daughter elayne’s age, though, much less a son gawyn’s. “you did not realize i saw the trap you were laying from

he not had the measure of her. “my lord niall, surely you can order galad to amador so i may see him. just for a day.” “i regret,” he replied smoothly, “that galad’s duties keep him in the north. you should be proud; he is one of the best young officers among the children.” her stepson was a lever to use

three cadin’sor-clad figures dodged through the horsemen, rushing at him with spears ready. perhaps they thought him easy meat, three on one. he disabused them. his sword left the scabbard smoothly, as smoothly as he flowed from the falcon stoops to the creeper embraces the oak to the moon rises over the lakes. three times he felt the shock in his

figures dodged through the horsemen, rushing at him with spears ready. perhaps they thought him easy meat, three on one. he disabused them. his sword left the scabbard smoothly, as smoothly as he flowed from the falcon stoops to the creeper embraces the oak to the moon rises over the lakes. three times he felt the shock in his wrists of

around, but he had grown used to telling as much by smells as by what his eyes told him. the siswai’aman who came close enough smelled calm but alert, a smooth, strong scent. they hardly appeared to notice the aes sedai. the maidens’ aromas were spiky with suppressed fury and grew spikier when they looked at the prisoners. and the wise

. every wise one who had come here from cairhien was able to channel, though none had the ageless face. he supposed they used the one power too seldom. still, smooth-cheeked like edarra or as leathery-faced as white-haired sorilea, they carried themselves with a self-possession easily matching the aes sedai’s. graceful women for the most part, most of them tall, as

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 to twice as tall as most of the sisters, sometimes

alanna gave a start, too. for whatever reason, she had been on edge ever since joining perrin on his way here, her serenity at best a thin veneer. now she smoothed her skirts, shot a defiant stare at kiruna and bera of all people, and glided around in front of rand. the other two sisters watched her, like teachers intending to

them as well as you?” rand’s voice was soft, the whisper of a blade sliding in its sheath. “i think the lord dragon is too busy for teaching,” taim replied smoothly, yet the anger smell rose again. “too important. take men who need the least of it. i can choose the furthest along—” “one,” rand cut in. “and i will choose.”

asked what it was. then havien burst out, “lord perrin, it’s the lord dragon. all that searching through the corpses—” “it seemed a little . . . excessive,” dobraine interrupted smoothly. “we worry for him, as you can understand. a great deal depends on him.” he might look a soldier, and he was, but he was a cairhienin lord, too, and

sure. rand rested his hand on one heavy arm of the sun throne. “you know i mean this for elayne trakand.” his voice was emotionless. “my lord dragon,” colavaere replied smoothly, “cairhien had been too long without a ruler. a cairhienin ruler. you yourself said you have no interest in the sun throne for yourself. elayne trakand would have had some

there were maidens in the hallway outside. min put her head around the doorframe, took one look, grinned at perrin and ducked back out of sight. faile stepped away so smoothly, so stately, that no one would ever have guessed what she had been saying a moment before. or what she had been about to say. there were spots of color

us make it. the evening meal is long finished for everyone else.” rand blinked, and sulin stepped back from his stare. sulin, who would stand eye-to-eye with a leopard. he smoothed his face, tried to. it felt a mask, somebody else’s face. “are you well?” she asked. “i was thinking.” he made his hands unknot, shrugged inside his coat. a better-fitting

she wanted to snarl or snap or maybe throw something, but after close to a month and half, she already had a lifetime’s practice in keeping her face and voice smooth at far greater provocation than this. “any longer, and we’ll begin to strip the countryside bare. i won’t leave people to starve. on the practical side, if we take too

sheriam to start thinking too much on that bracelet, though; if she ever noticed that the necklace “marigan” wore was a match, there might be painfully awkward questions. rising, egwene smoothed her skirt as she moved around the table. siuan had acquired several pieces of information today; one could be put to good use now. she was not the only one

“mother, i can hardly recall every—” “no dancing around, sheriam.” egwene moved a little closer, until their knees almost touched. “no lies by omission. the truth.” a frown creased sheriam’s smooth forehead. “mother, even if i knew, you cannot trouble yourself with every little—” “the truth, sheriam. the whole truth. must i ask before the entire hall why i cannot have

bitterly. nicola made shushing motions. “there’s no need to bring that up.” oddly, she did not sound as if she meant it. hoping she was keeping her face half so smooth as nicola’s, egwene tried to quell a sudden uneasiness. “marigan” had come to salidar on that boat, too. an owl hooted, and she shivered. some people thought hearing an owl

as her posture, yet not at all fearful. she looked ready to stare down a lion. eager to, in fact. biting her lip, egwene nearly laughed aloud. keeping her face smooth took effort; maybe they would take it for a hiccough. however much they claimed they were not really aes sedai, faolain had just proved how much of one she was.

but keeping to the lowland as much as possible and covering ground quickly. bryne’s big-nosed gelding, sure-footed and strong, hardly seemed to mind which way the ground tilted or whether smooth or rough, yet daishar kept pace easily. sometimes siuan’s plump animal labored, though she might just have been picking up her rider’s anxiety. no amount of practice could make siuan

to? siuan showed no nervousness at all as she dismounted. “bring him out, myrelle. now.” she was getting her own back with a vengeance; her tone made a file seem smooth. “it’s too late for hiding.” myrelle barely managed a frown at being addressed so, and it appeared an effort. visibly pulling herself together, she jerked her hat from her head

involved because of his mind,” nisao said hastily. “i have some interest in diseases of the mind, and this must rightly be called one. myrelle practically dragged me into it.” smoothing her skirts, myrelle directed a dark look at the yellow that was returned with interest. “mother, when a warder’s aes sedai dies, it is as though he swallows her death

was nothing alongside the scowl she directed at myrelle. “i should never have listened to you,” she growled. “i must have been mad!” somehow, myrelle still managed to maintain a smooth face, but she wavered a little, as though her knees had gone weak. “i did not do it for myself, mother. you must believe that. it was to save him.

more than it already is, before you’re done. if i was sure of that, if i had the courage to do my duty and face whatever comes—” yet she knelt smoothly, pressing her lips to the great serpent ring on egwene’s finger. “beneath the light and by my hope of rebirth and salvation. . . .”not the same wording as faolain

most days. most weeks, for that matter. egwene let daishar amble. “myrelle was right,” siuan mumbled finally. with her rider’s mind elsewhere, the mare moved with something close to a smooth gait; she actually made siuan appear a competent rider. “fealty. no one has ever done that. no one. there isn’t so much as a hint in the secret histories. and

aches. it’s just tightness, anyway. i can feel it.” “i suppose i couldn’t,” egwene murmured. she rather liked the woman, whatever anyone said, and not just for her talent in smoothing away headaches. halima was earthy and open, a country woman however much time she had spent gaining a skim of city sophistication, balancing respect for the amyrlin with a sort

suggested this, after hearing elayne and nynaeve talk of the sea folk. how could she have known what it would be like? the blue silk of her dress felt incredibly smooth, and she latched on to that. she was barely used to skirts at all—she still yearned for the cadin’sor the wise ones had made her burn when she began training

done no one any good, him least of all. he needs to be made fit for decent company. we will put him on a short rein from the start.” nynaeve smoothed her skirts with considerable vigor. she claimed to have no more interest in dresses than aviendha—in what they looked like, anyway; she was always muttering about good plain wool being

swallowing, she turned back more swiftly than she had turned away. she thought her cheeks must be greener than nynaeve’s had been. elayne was watching her, trying to keep a smooth face, but wetlanders showed their emotions so plainly her concern was visible. “i am a fool, elayne.” even with her, using no more of her name made aviendha feel uneasy;

that she was green ajah and nynaeve yellow received sniffs from nesta din reas and sharp looks from the spindly old man. elayne blinked, taken aback, but she went on smoothly. “we have come for two reasons. the lesser is to ask how you mean to aid the dragon reborn, who according to the jendai prophecy you call the coramoor. the

knew about the bloody horn. . . . abruptly he was yanked away from them so hard that he stumbled and nearly dropped his hat. a slender woman with a smooth face and nearly white hair gathered at the back of her neck had him by sleeve and lapel. reflexively teslyn seized him the same way on the other side. he

but she shifted her head slightly as if she really wanted to break away from joline’s gaze. “you would not dare.” sareitha wore aes sedai tranquility like a mask, face smooth and hands calmly adjusting her shawl, but her breathy voice shouted that it was a mask. “these are children’s games, joline,” vandene murmured dryly. surely that was who she was.

deep currents. he preferred swimming where his feet could touch the bottom of the pond. laren was waiting around the corner, hands on broad hips and her face much too smooth. beneath her skirts, he suspected, her foot was tapping impatiently. he gave her his most winning smile. giggling girls or gray-haired grandmothers, women softened for that one; it had won

except that their unblinking gazes followed her. lews therin suddenly went silent, as if he too watched, through rand’s eyes. merana’s ageless features revealed even less than the clan chiefs’. smoothing her pale gray skirts under, she knelt beside rand and lifted the teapot. a massive ball of gold-washed silver, with leopards for feet and handle and another crouched on the

was not so sure. as she opened her mouth to explode, annoura touched her arm, and her head whipped around. they exchanged a long look, and berelain’s sputters subsided. she smoothed her skirts and vigorously squared her shoulders. rand looked away hastily. merana hovered at the edge of the ward. he wondered whether she had stepped across and dodged back—how else

kisses in a stone. “the wavemistress harine is not pleased to be left sitting on her ship so long. i have visited with her a number of times. i can smooth the difficulties there, which i hardly think lord dobraine can. i believe the sea folk are vital to you whether or not the prophecies of the dragon mention them. you

duties here. i would not keep you from them.” it was as clear a dismissal as could be, short of holding the door open. berelain inclined her head graciously, then smoothly turned to rand and spread her skirts in a curtsy so deep that he worried whether she would remain even as clothed as she was. “my lord dragon,” she intoned,

murky. cloaks and saddlebags and a few dresses hung from pegs in the cracked, yellowing plaster walls. gouges marred the bare wooden floor, though some effort had been made to smooth them. a tiny battered round table stood in one corner, and an equally beaten washstand in another, with a chipped basin and pitcher. merana eyed the small bed. it did

obeyed her order to return?” all that betrayed bera’s lack of composure was the stillness of her hands on her skirts. only a marked effort to keep from clutching or smoothing could hold them so motionless. “so one of you has a little backbone.” cadsuane laughed softly, but her eyes did not look mirthful at all. leaning back, she sipped her

she might fear rand al’thor, but not a great deal else. certainly not sevanna. belinde lightly stroked the cube with one bony finger, her sun-bleached eyebrows drawn down. maintaining a smooth face, sevanna irritably prevented her hands from fingering a necklace or adjusting her shawl. “i have told you all you need know.” considerably more than they needed, in her opinion,

told you to use a single wise one, sevanna, not seven. some men might be suspicious.” for some reason, he seemed amused. the woman, maisia, paused in the act of smoothing her skirts under when he gave her name, glaring at him with a fury that should have stripped his hide away. perhaps she had thought to keep her identity hidden.

original spot. dark as she was, the woman looked pale. and furious. had she been alone, sevanna would have laughed, and danced. as it was, she had difficulty maintaining a smooth face. rhiale and the others were too busy staring disdainfully at maisia to notice. what worked on one woman with the gift would work on another. no need with someryn

as it was. he studied his hands, and his mouth curled faintly. why should his smile seem pleased? “that is not something she does,” he said in a voice as smooth as his palms, “not by herself. it is like the callbox. i can provide you with several, but the price of those is even higher. i doubt what you’ve gleaned

dandled—she thought—elayne did not know whether to laugh or cry, but she stood up, straightening her skirts. “as i said, mistress anan, you are under a misapprehension.” her voice became smoother as she went on, confusion giving way to calm. “i am elayne trakand, daughter-heir of andor and aes sedai of the green ajah. i don’t know what you think—” her

“we don’t need any help. we are aes sedai, remember?” with a wry glance in her direction, mistress anan gave her skirts a shake to straighten them and bent to smooth her exposed petticoats. her real attention was on nynaeve; elayne had never felt so completely shunted aside in her life. “i know a few women who take in the occasional

cause.” mat cauthon; his name boiled in her head. nynaeve stumbled over her own feet and let go of her braid to lift her skirts. the alley was hardly as smooth as a paved square much less a palace floor. at times, elayne in a taking was better than elayne thinking clearly. “remarkable,” she muttered. “i’ll ‘remarkable’ her till her eyes

to keep its hands on a woman like this if they had to hold her in a novice dress her whole life. nynaeve rose as they came through the doorway, smoothing her skirts. not from nervousness, certainly; certainly not. oh, but if only this came out right. . . . reanne’s sharp blue eyes studied the two of them with the

having never been a novice. “we need to know—” berowin could not spare anything to channel a flow of air, but mistress corly could, and did. barely keeping her face smooth, nynaeve knotted her hands in her skirts to hold them still. elayne had the gall to give her a small, chilly smile. chilly, but satisfied. a dozen more questions hammered

worth closer examination. “she probably doesn’t channel any more than she can help, afraid as she is of being mistaken for a sister. she wouldn’t have wanted her face too smooth, after all.” “you never listened in class, did you?” elayne murmured. she saw the plump seamstress beaming in the doorway, and drew nynaeve toward the corner of the building. considering

dress. panting, she wriggled the last distance to the sound of ripping wool. staring back over her shoulder, she shivered convulsively. where the tunnel mouth should have been stood a smooth stone wall. perhaps the great lord had timed it all exactly, and perhaps, had she been slower. . . . the ledge on which she lay projected above a black-mottled

now. leave me! go!” a sweeping gesture flashed fingernails at least an inch long, the first two on each hand a glistening blue. elbar bowed on his knees, then rose smoothly, backing away through the door. for the first time morgase realized none of the other soldiers had followed them in. she realized something else, as well. he gave her one

front of him. lini pretended to examine morgase’s sleeve as though it might need mending as master gill and lamgwin followed tallanvor in. breane put on a bright smile and smoothed her skirts. the men noticed nothing, of course. morgase noticed a great deal. for one thing, tallanvor had a sword belted on, and so did master gill, and even lamgwin,

fat lopsided oak, and the two aes sedai looked at her, heads swiveling as one, then exchanged glances and led their horses to the tree. matters would go a deal smoother if that pair was always so meek—well, not meek exactly; seonid’s neck was stiff as a rod. after that came the remounts, a herd of spare horses tied ten to

spot was even farther from any village than it was supposed to be. even the cart drivers and horse handlers joined in. more than that, he prayed that everything went smoothly, and quickly. the sooner he could put as much distance as possible between berelain and himself and faile, the better. no surprises, that was what he wanted once they rode

just some of them. one thing and another, it was a relief when nerim and lopin got into a shouting match over whose master’s baggage would be carried over first. smoothing their feathers required a good half an hour from him and nalesean both. a manservant with his dander ruffled could make your life miserable. then he had to settle which

this secret you speak of has something to do with the circle, but—” “the kin are no concern of yours, child,” merilille broke in sharply. drawing a deep breath, she smoothed gold-slashed skirts of silvery gray. “i propose to pass sentence,” she said in a cold voice. “i concur, and defer to your decision,” adeleas said. she gave elayne a disappointed

behind them, though, once they found out they would not be aes sedai. vandene took up the explanation again; the sisters frequently spoke almost in alternating sentences, each carrying on smoothly where the other left off. “the tower has known of the kin from nearly the beginning, perhaps from the very beginning. at first, no doubt, the wars took precedence. and

shock, and even adeleas and vandene were not far from it. but they went right on saying, “yes, elayne,” and “if you say so, elayne.” perhaps it would all go smoothly from now on. the sedan chair was rocking through the crowds of revelers along the quay when moghedien spotted the woman. she was being handed down from a coach at

by name! and before she could begin to splutter with outrage, worse came. “i think you are in great trouble, elaida.” cold eyes stared into elaida’s and cold words slid smoothly from alviarin’s smiling lips. “sooner or later, the hall will learn of the disaster with al’thor. galina might have satisfied the hall, possibly, but i doubt covarla will; they will

in. seaine’s thick black eyebrows rose; she would have expected anyone else at all before elaida, perhaps not excluding rand al’thor himself. still, she set the pen down and rose smoothly, pulling down the silver-white sleeves she had pushed up to keep clear of the ink. she made the degree of curtsy proper to the amyrlin seat from a sitter in

to what end, i cannot say, but that surely is treason against me, and against the tower.” seaine waited for more, but the amyrlin only looked back at her, slowly smoothing her red-slashed skirts. “exactly what inquiry do you wish me to make, mother?” she asked cautiously. elaida bounded to her feet. “i charge you to follow the stench of treason,

and ivory in his bed-chamber, floated it aside on flows of air and carefully unraveled the traps he had set and the mirror of mists that made the wall seem smooth, all inverted so no other eyes but his could see. there, in a niche hollowed out with the power, stood two small statues of white stone about a foot tall,

what we did called comforting, they’d be lining up to peel our hides if we were fifty!” “at least it’s ‘we,’ now, instead of ‘i,’ ” she said grimly. rising smoothly, she advanced toward him shaking a furious finger. “do you think i’m a doll, farmboy? do you think i am too dimwitted to let you know if i didn’t want

rafela seem a picture of aes sedai serenity. five. “where are kiruna and verin?” he demanded. “i called for all of you.” “so you did, my lord dragon,” bera answered smoothly. she made another curtsy, too; only the slightest dip, but it took him aback. “we could not find verin; she is somewhere in the aiel tents. questioning the . .

another curtsy, too; only the slightest dip, but it took him aback. “we could not find verin; she is somewhere in the aiel tents. questioning the . . .” her smooth tone faltered for one instant. “. . . the prisoners, i believe, in an attempt to learn what was planned once they reached tar valon.” once he reached tar valon;

been taken there. suddenly he could not bear the confines of the cabin any longer. he fumbled with the latch on the chair arm. it would not open. gripping the smooth wood, he tore the arm off in splinters with one convulsive heave. “we’ve agreed the sea folk will serve me,” he said, pushing himself up. the low ceiling made him

herself had forgotten. the aes sedai’s smile, as she adjusted her green-fringed shawl, was not nearly so pleasant as her voice. “of course, cadsuane sedai.” caraline sounded shaken, but she smoothed her tone well before she finished introducing her visiting “cousin” and his “wife.” “but i fear cairhien is no place for them at present,” she said, all self-possession once more,

look afraid; just a man confidently waiting for those women to show themselves his enemies. unlike the aes sedai, amys ignored the asha’man except for flinn. her eyes followed him, smooth face utterly expressionless. but her thumb ran along the haft of her belt knife in a very expressive manner. “what are you doing?” samitsu demanded, leaping up from her chair.

to help him rise. “you will tell me what you did,” she said, regal tone at strong odds with the way her quick fingers straightened the old man’s collar and smoothed his lapels. “if only there was some way you could show me! but you will describe it. you must! i will give you all the gold i possess, bear your

in it. her fingers fumbled and fell away, and she started wringing her hands instead. “lan,” she began unsteadily, “you mustn’t think i would talk about—” the warder cut in smoothly, bowing and offering her his arm. “we are in public, nynaeve. whatever you want to say in public, you may. may i escort you to the boat?” “yes,” she said,

pulled her braid over her shoulder so it hung down between her breasts, but that heavy gold ring—lan’s ring, he had learned—was carefully positioned to show anyway. her face was smooth, and her hands rested in her lap, yet sometimes her fingers twitched. elayne, in green ebou dari silk that made nynaeve seem covered up despite the smoky lace collar under

the rest of the aes sedai. faces infinitely calm, infinitely patient. except. . . . merilille’s eyes flickered past him toward nynaeve and elayne for one instant. sareitha began slowly smoothing her skirts under his gaze, seemingly unaware of doing so. a dark suspicion bloomed in his mind. hands moving on skirts. reanne’s blush. birgitte’s ready quiver. a murky suspicion. he

in dark silk and fine lace as they had been six days ago, each with a bulging sack hanging incongruously from one shoulder by a strap. caddar held out a smooth white rod about a foot long in one dark hand. “how did you come here?” she demanded, then compressed her lips in anger. plainly he had come as he had

rod he offered, and as always he stepped back beyond arm’s reach. “why have you come?” she amended. “what is this?” a little slimmer than her wrist, the rod was smooth except for a few odd, flowing symbols incised on one flat end. it felt not quite like ivory, not quite like glass. very cool to the touch. “you might call

the winding stairs slowly, small clouds puffing up beneath his boots, every second step a stab of pain up his leg. distant pain. on the towertop, he leaned against the smooth parapet to catch his breath. the idle thought came that he would never hear the end if min learned of this. min, or amys, or cadsuane for that matter. across

crown. gingerly he set the circle of laurel leaves on his head. half those swords pointed up, half down. no head would wear this crown casually or easily. gregorin bowed smoothly. “the light illumine rand al’thor, king of illian,” he intoned, and the seven other lords bowed with him, murmuring, “the light illumine rand al’thor, king of illian.” bashere contented himself

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ones clustered there, and normally at least some would be watching her like vultures, but their eyes were all on the rise. more than one adjusted her shawl uneasily or smoothed bulky skirts. sevanna’s lip curled. sweat beaded on some of those faces. sweat! where was their honor that they showed nerves before every gaze? everyone stiffened slightly as a young

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 to twice as tall as most of the sisters, sometimes

alanna gave a start, too. for whatever reason, she had been on edge ever since joining perrin on his way here, her serenity at best a thin veneer. now she smoothed her skirts, shot a defiant stare at kiruna and bera of all people, and glided around in front of rand. the other two sisters watched her, like teachers intending to

sheriam to start thinking too much on that bracelet, though; if she ever noticed that the necklace “marigan” wore was a match, there might be painfully awkward questions. rising, egwene smoothed her skirt as she moved around the table. siuan had acquired several pieces of information today; one could be put to good use now. she was not the only one

involved because of his mind,” nisao said hastily. “i have some interest in diseases of the mind, and this must rightly be called one. myrelle practically dragged me into it.” smoothing her skirts, myrelle directed a dark look at the yellow that was returned with interest. “mother, when a warder’s aes sedai dies, it is as though he swallows her death

suggested this, after hearing elayne and nynaeve talk of the sea folk. how could she have known what it would be like? the blue silk of her dress felt incredibly smooth, and she latched on to that. she was barely used to skirts at all—she still yearned for the cadin’sor the wise ones had made her burn when she began training

done no one any good, him least of all. he needs to be made fit for decent company. we will put him on a short rein from the start.” nynaeve smoothed her skirts with considerable vigor. she claimed to have no more interest in dresses than aviendha—in what they looked like, anyway; she was always muttering about good plain wool being

deep currents. he preferred swimming where his feet could touch the bottom of the pond. laren was waiting around the corner, hands on broad hips and her face much too smooth. beneath her skirts, he suspected, her foot was tapping impatiently. he gave her his most winning smile. giggling girls or gray-haired grandmothers, women softened for that one; it had won

except that their unblinking gazes followed her. lews therin suddenly went silent, as if he too watched, through rand’s eyes. merana’s ageless features revealed even less than the clan chiefs’. smoothing her pale gray skirts under, she knelt beside rand and lifted the teapot. a massive ball of gold-washed silver, with leopards for feet and handle and another crouched on the

was not so sure. as she opened her mouth to explode, annoura touched her arm, and her head whipped around. they exchanged a long look, and berelain’s sputters subsided. she smoothed her skirts and vigorously squared her shoulders. rand looked away hastily. merana hovered at the edge of the ward. he wondered whether she had stepped across and dodged back—how else

duties here. i would not keep you from them.” it was as clear a dismissal as could be, short of holding the door open. berelain inclined her head graciously, then smoothly turned to rand and spread her skirts in a curtsy so deep that he worried whether she would remain even as clothed as she was. “my lord dragon,” she intoned,

obeyed her order to return?” all that betrayed bera’s lack of composure was the stillness of her hands on her skirts. only a marked effort to keep from clutching or smoothing could hold them so motionless. “so one of you has a little backbone.” cadsuane laughed softly, but her eyes did not look mirthful at all. leaning back, she sipped her

told you to use a single wise one, sevanna, not seven. some men might be suspicious.” for some reason, he seemed amused. the woman, maisia, paused in the act of smoothing her skirts under when he gave her name, glaring at him with a fury that should have stripped his hide away. perhaps she had thought to keep her identity hidden.

dandled—she thought—elayne did not know whether to laugh or cry, but she stood up, straightening her skirts. “as i said, mistress anan, you are under a misapprehension.” her voice became smoother as she went on, confusion giving way to calm. “i am elayne trakand, daughter-heir of andor and aes sedai of the green ajah. i don’t know what you think—” her

“we don’t need any help. we are aes sedai, remember?” with a wry glance in her direction, mistress anan gave her skirts a shake to straighten them and bent to smooth her exposed petticoats. her real attention was on nynaeve; elayne had never felt so completely shunted aside in her life. “i know a few women who take in the occasional

cause.” mat cauthon; his name boiled in her head. nynaeve stumbled over her own feet and let go of her braid to lift her skirts. the alley was hardly as smooth as a paved square much less a palace floor. at times, elayne in a taking was better than elayne thinking clearly. “remarkable,” she muttered. “i’ll ‘remarkable’ her till her eyes

to keep its hands on a woman like this if they had to hold her in a novice dress her whole life. nynaeve rose as they came through the doorway, smoothing her skirts. not from nervousness, certainly; certainly not. oh, but if only this came out right. . . . reanne’s sharp blue eyes studied the two of them with the

having never been a novice. “we need to know—” berowin could not spare anything to channel a flow of air, but mistress corly could, and did. barely keeping her face smooth, nynaeve knotted her hands in her skirts to hold them still. elayne had the gall to give her a small, chilly smile. chilly, but satisfied. a dozen more questions hammered

front of him. lini pretended to examine morgase’s sleeve as though it might need mending as master gill and lamgwin followed tallanvor in. breane put on a bright smile and smoothed her skirts. the men noticed nothing, of course. morgase noticed a great deal. for one thing, tallanvor had a sword belted on, and so did master gill, and even lamgwin,

this secret you speak of has something to do with the circle, but—” “the kin are no concern of yours, child,” merilille broke in sharply. drawing a deep breath, she smoothed gold-slashed skirts of silvery gray. “i propose to pass sentence,” she said in a cold voice. “i concur, and defer to your decision,” adeleas said. she gave elayne a disappointed

to what end, i cannot say, but that surely is treason against me, and against the tower.” seaine waited for more, but the amyrlin only looked back at her, slowly smoothing her red-slashed skirts. “exactly what inquiry do you wish me to make, mother?” she asked cautiously. elaida bounded to her feet. “i charge you to follow the stench of treason,

the rest of the aes sedai. faces infinitely calm, infinitely patient. except. . . . merilille’s eyes flickered past him toward nynaeve and elayne for one instant. sareitha began slowly smoothing her skirts under his gaze, seemingly unaware of doing so. a dark suspicion bloomed in his mind. hands moving on skirts. reanne’s blush. birgitte’s ready quiver. a murky suspicion. he

the rest of the aes sedai. faces infinitely calm, infinitely patient. except. . . . merilille’s eyes flickered past him toward nynaeve and elayne for one instant. sareitha began slowly smoothing her skirts under his gaze, seemingly unaware of doing so. a dark suspicion bloomed in his mind. hands moving on skirts. reanne’s blush. birgitte’s ready quiver. a murky suspicion. he

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The Path of Daggers - Robert Jordan.txt

a noblewoman’s riding dress, but the mind behind those plain, sweaty features was as sharp as any aes sedai’s. “the other choices only carried different risks, not lesser,” she said smoothly. stout yet as graceful in her saddle as she was at dancing, serailla was always smooth. not oily, or false; just completely unflappable. “whatever the truth, majesty, the white tower

any aes sedai’s. “the other choices only carried different risks, not lesser,” she said smoothly. stout yet as graceful in her saddle as she was at dancing, serailla was always smooth. not oily, or false; just completely unflappable. “whatever the truth, majesty, the white tower appears to be paralyzed as well as shattered. you could have sat watching the blight while

of two wise ones and a pair of young aielmen who could not straighten up inside the tent was something of a relief. for verin, anyway. she rose and curtsied smoothly, but none of them had any interest in her. daviena was a green-eyed woman with yellow-red hair, losaine gray-eyed with dark hair that only showed glints of red in the

from frowning. where had they learned that? she would have wagered all she possessed that they had not known how only a few days ago. everything went quickly then, and smoothly. as the crouching men lifted turanna to her feet by the arms, she let the silver cup fall. empty, luckily for her. she did not struggle, which was just as

corly and the other ten survivors of the kin’s knitting circle stirred uneasily under that disapproving scrutiny, dabbing their sweaty faces with embroidered handkerchiefs, adjusting their broad, colorful straw hats, smoothing sober woolen skirts sewn up on one side to expose layers of petticoats as bright as the sea folk’s garb. in part it was the stares of the aes sedai

the stones to seize the bowl. the aes sedai saw the same, plainly. sareitha clutched the white parcel more tightly, and merilille actually stepped between her and the atha’an miere. smooth aes sedai faces tightened with the effort of remaining expressionless. they believed the bowl should belong to them; all things that used or manipulated the one power belonged to the

a lion crept up on the herd she had been set to guard. she caught one of the atha’an miere by a red silk sleeve. “tell elayne—” a face like smooth black stone turned to her; the woman somehow made full lips seem thin; her eyes were black pebbles, flat and hard. what message could she send that would not bring

other side, though. close enough to leap to aviendha’s aid in a heartbeat. and for another reason. the windfinders came through in order of rank, striving to keep their faces smooth, but even renaile relaxed tight shoulders once her bare feet were beating down the tall brown grass. some gave a little shiver, quickly suppressed, or glanced back with round eyes

displayed a remarkable forbearance so far, but how long would that last? nynaeve might explode, once she actually turned her attentions to the windfinders. matters had to be kept as smooth as possible for as long as possible, but if the atha’an miere went on believing they could stare down any aes sedai, there would be trouble. life was more complex

it was over and done with.” when she and elayne were introduced as aes sedai, the aes sedai who had given the promises, alise made a choked sound and began smoothing her woolen skirts as though her hands wanted to latch on to reanne’s throat. her mouth opened angrily—then snapped shut without a sound when merilille joined them. that stern gaze

white bowls. by the smell of bread baking, the only other door led into a kitchen. vandene looked around sharply at the sound of the door, but seeing them, she smoothed her face to a total lack of expression. “sumeko said the herbs nynaeve gave her were wearing off,” she said, “and it seemed best to question her a little before

“shore-cursed” horses and follow her. they made a spraddle-legged line wobbling along after alise, everyone but the two apprentices muttering to herself—alise included. instinctively, elayne began to plan how to smooth matters over, how to get the atha’an miere’s pains healed without them having to ask. or a sister having to offer too strenuously; nynaeve had to be appeased, too, and

too strenuously; nynaeve had to be appeased, too, and the other sisters. to her surprise, she suddenly realized that for once in her life she had no real desire to smooth anything. watching the windfinders limp toward one of the farm buildings, she decided that matters were fine just as they were. aviendha wore a large, open grin as she watched

too ornate and too thin to be helmets, and any number of items she could not think what to call. a rod, as thick as her wrist, bright red and smooth and rounded, firm rather than hard for all that it seemed to be stone; it did not warm slightly in her hand, it almost felt hot! not real heat any

to be quite a storm once she let it break. reanne tried to keep a cheerful, eager face, yet her hands were never still on her skirts, constantly plucking and smoothing. kirstian simply clutched hers and sweated, appearing ready to empty her stomach any minute; when anyone looked at her, anyone at all, she shivered. the third kinswoman, garenia, was a

withdrew, nynaeve twitched her divided skirts straight, plainly irritated at the interruption, and opened her mouth again. “continue your demonstration, nynaeve,” caire commanded harshly. her dark face might have been smooth as a frozen pond, but she was not very pleased, either. nynaeve’s mouth worked before she could make any sound come out, and when it did, she went on in

nearly pure terror, so strong it was amazing that they could even have begun to embrace the source. what filled reanne to overflowing was eagerness, and no matter her skirt smoothing. as for the atha’an miere. . . . even tebreille exuded a wary alertness, and it did not take the quick darting of metarra’s eyes, and rainyn’s, to know the

were approaching the level of garenia and kirstian, and it was a wonder those two had not fainted. nynaeve was a hair from sicking up, for all her suddenly too smooth face. aviendha appeared just as calm outwardly, but inside, that tiny fear quivered and pulsed, trying to grow. from caire came only determination, as steely hard as her expression. nothing

it almost turned into one; alise had found it, and handed it back telling nynaeve she needed to shield her face from the sun if she wanted to keep that smooth pretty skin. an openmouthed nynaeve watched the graying woman hurry off to deal with one of the numerous small problems, then ostentatiously shoved the hat under a strap of her

hoped she could be a queen to make her mother proud, but it was clear that she would never make a hero. chulein moved the reins slightly, and segani banked smoothly, turning on a ribbed wing. he was a well-trained raken, swift and agile, her favorite, though she had to share flying him. there were always more morat’raken than raken; a

in with none the wiser save alliandre.” a second wonder. there had not been a hint of flirtation in her voice. she seemed to be paying as much attention to smoothing her red leather gloves as to him. which one? the trouble was, he did not want to choose either. seonid, the second aes sedai who had come to the ridgeline,

was twenty years younger, with dark reddish hair, curled mustaches, and eyes bluer than edarra’s, yet they were stamped from the same mold, tall and lean and hard. they dismounted smoothly, cloaks shifting colors and vanishing in a queasy-making way, and made their reports to seonid, deliberately ignoring the wise ones. and perrin. “it’s worse than back north,” furen said disgustedly.

will go with her,” edarra said, and nevarin added, “we will make sure she says nothing she should not.” seonid ground her teeth audibly, to perrin’s ears, and busied herself smoothing her divided skirts, eyes carefully down. annoura made a sound, very nearly a grunt, and turned her head from the sight; she herself stayed away from the wise ones, and

he tried to apologize! well, apologies usually stoked her anger if she already was angry—except when they melted her temper, anyway—but she had not been angry! without berelain, everything ran smooth as silk satin between them. most of the time. but explanations that he did nothing to encourage the woman—far from it!—earned only a curt “of course you don’t!” in tones

petulant scowl, directed at the other woman. “i have heard about banners like those,” maighdin said suddenly. and angrily; there was no anger in her voice, and her face was smooth as ice, but her fury filled perrin’s nose. “they were raised by men in andor, in the two rivers, who rebelled against their lawful ruler. aybara is a two rivers

that. she could. if she dug deeply. her breath caught at the sound of footsteps close by. tallanvor knelt gracefully at her side. he was shirtless, moonlight gleaming on the smooth muscles of his chest and shoulders, his face in shadows. a slight breeze ruffled his hair. “what madness is this?” he asked softly. “entering service? what are you up to?

and rhadam asunawa, the grand inquisitor, makes valda seem pleasant. and i fear neither has any love for your own lord. forgive me.” he bowed again, hesitated, then went on smoothly. “if i may say so, my lord’s display of manetheren’s banner is inspired. my lord will be more than a match for valda and asunawa, if he takes care.” watching

with them if you can, aram. but if you decide to moon over one of the women, be sure it’s lini. the other two are taken.” the man had a smooth tongue for any pretty woman, but he managed to look surprised and offended, both. “as you wish, lord perrin,” he muttered sulkily. “i’ll catch you up quickly.” “i will be

she wasted no time complying with edarra’s instructions. “the wise ones are right, whatever their reasons. i do not say this because they wish it.” she drew herself up again, smoothing her features with a visible effort. a touch of heat still flared in her voice, though. “i saw the work of so-called dragonsworn before i ever met rand al’thor. death

this side of the hill, not hurrying and making little noise. perrin had always been a good hunter, accustomed to the forests, and elyas hardly disturbed the leaves underfoot, gliding smoothly through the undergrowth without shifting a branch. he might have slung his bow on his back now, but he still carried it ready. elyas was a wary man, especially around

was plain wool, lacking a single stitch of embroidery. “after the recent news,” alliandre said, “i thought i should come to you, lord aybara.” her voice was calm, her face smooth, her eyes aloof. and observant, or he was a taren ferry man. best to step warily till he knew how the path lay. “you may not have heard,” she continued,

him, “the prophet of the lord dragon was in abila. that’s a largish town in amadicia, perhaps forty leagues south of here.” in spite of himself, perrin frowned, though he smoothed his brow quickly. so balwer had been right. right in one thing did not mean right in all, but it might be worthwhile hearing what the man had to say

to slide back into the shadow,” one of the prisoners said suddenly. “they must be reminded of the cost.” a tall, lean man with a stately air, his voice was smooth and educated, but his coat was as dirty as any of the others, and he had not shaved in two or three days. the prophet did not seem to approve

repented, that he would serve any master they named. a bald-headed fellow who looked as tough as lamgwin thrashed and screamed until the rope cut off his howls. only the smooth-voiced man did not kick or fight, even when the noose drew tight on his neck. to the end he glared defiance. “at least one of them knew how to die,”

your plan to marry him.” “i have given up nothing,” sevanna replied irritably. the man—and more important, the power that came with him—would be hers someday. somehow. whatever it took. smoothing her voice, she went on. “rand al’thor is hardly of consequence now.” at least to these blind simpletons. with him in her hands, anything would be possible for her. “i

her hair, which she had pulled over her shoulder. plainly none of them recognized him. sevanna thought she did. he regarded them gravely, with green eyes much older than his smooth face. he had full lips, but there was a set to his mouth, as if he had forgotten how to smile. “i am kinhuin, of the mera’din, wise ones. the

tucked into her skirt at the small of her back, where her shawl hid it. she would have felt if it slipped a hair, but she wanted to touch its smooth length with her fingers. no wise one would dare think her less than they, once she used that, perhaps today. and one day, it would give her rand al’thor. after

better than being handed over to therava. if she had not been shielded, she would have channeled to operate the rod herself. no sooner did her fingers close on the smooth rod than therava’s foot came down on it hard, trapping her hands painfully against the ground. none of the wise ones so much as glanced at her where she lay

will take the gai’shain back to the great roof and see her put in white. you can remain and stare at the snow if you wish.” her tone was so smooth, like butter in the tub, that no one would have thought her at daggers’ points only moments earlier. she looped her shawl over her elbows and adjusted some of her

her shawl over her elbows and adjusted some of her necklaces; nothing in the world concerned her more. “we will take care of the gai’shain,” therava told her just as smoothly. “since you speak as the chief, you have a long day and most of the night ahead of you if we are to move tomorrow.” for an instant, sevanna’s eyes

a shock. the gateway opened, and two women in nearly identical red-and-black silk dresses stepped through warily. at least, moghedien moved cautiously, dark eyes flickering in search of traps, hands smoothing her wide skirts; the gateway winked out after a moment, but she held on to saidar. a sensible precaution, though moghedien had always been a great one for precautions. graendal

than pretty girl, but what twist of fate had led some mother of this time to give her daughter a name that meant “last chance”? cyndane’s face remained cold and smooth, but her eyes flared. a beautiful doll carved from ice, with hidden fires. it seemed she knew the meaning and did not like it. “what brings you and your friend,

cyndane demanded, striding arrogantly across the floor. she held herself very straight, striving for every hair of height. “do you know that sammael is dead?” graendal kept her own face smooth, with a little effort. she had supposed this girl some friend of the dark whom moghedien had picked up to run errands, perhaps a noble who thought her title counted,

her scheming with sammael. . . . if he chose to take action, that was; betting that he did not know was a foolish wager at this point. she knelt smoothly before the myrddraal. “what would you have me do?” her voice had regained its strength. a necessary flexibility was not cowardice; those who did not bend for the great lord

track i set you.” the cairhienin woman’s pale cheeks flushed red at the compliment. thank the light she was not this way except with other sisters. kumira sat silently, very smooth-faced, her hands in her lap. she might be subdued now, but little could subdue kumira for long. they were exactly the pair cadsuane wanted with her today. the coach tilted

was cool on her temple. “you keep a whole hide at present, but my sufferance is not infinite. in fact, it dangles by a thread.” alanna struggled with herself, unconsciously smoothing blue silk. abruptly the glow of the power winked out, and she turned her head away from cadsuane so swiftly that her long black hair swung. “i don’t know any

surprised than the other to find themselves of like mind with an ancient enemy. “these peasants could never have found the mettle to stay under arms without encouragement,” weiramon continued smoothly, ignoring rosana. he was skilled at ignoring who, and what, he did not want to see or hear. he was a fool. “may i suggest my lord dragon look to

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 smoothing it over, but rand was not interested in dashiva’s moods. by chance—he was sure it was chance—his hand had come down on the dragon scepter. his arm trembled with the

and no few men thought him just a pretty boy, but those too-big eyes sometimes seemed more knowing than any others. rand pulled his hand from the dragon scepter and smoothed open the letter. his hands did not quite shake. torval smiled weakly, sourly, noticing nothing. against the tent wall, narishma shifted, relaxing. the refreshments arrived, then, borne by a stately

until it fell. “how many losses in training?” he demanded. the sharp-nosed asha’man hesitated. “how many?” narishma leaned forward, staring intently at torval. so did hopwil. the servants continued their smooth, silent dance, offering their trays to men who no longer saw them. boreane took advantage of narishma’s preoccupation to make sure his silver mug held more hot water than spiced

as she was, ignoring the iciness took all the concentration she could muster. clouds scudded across the sky, and moonshadows floated over the gleaming white that covered the ground, a smooth sheet broken by the dark mounds of tents and the taller shapes of canvas-topped wagons that now had long wooden runners in place of wheels. many of the wagons were

south hard, it seems. if you keep on as you are, which i advise against, we should meet head-on in two days, three at the outside.” egwene kept her face smooth, suppressing her relief. what she had been hoping for, waiting for; what she had begun to fear might never come. surprisingly, it was siuan who gasped, and clapped a mittened

seemed the gentlest way to do it. really, they should not have left the silver pitcher on her table. siuan did not quite flinch, but from her stricken expression, quickly smoothed over, you would never have believed she washed the man’s small-clothes. without comment she channeled slightly to reheat the wine in the silver pitcher, quickly filled two clean worked-silver cups,

not about to throw away hers. waiting until the riders moved out of sight into the forest, she started back toward the camp, thinking idly of tonight’s dreams. behind her, smooth snow would hide what she had buried until the spring thaw, more than long enough. ahead, some of the men in the camp finally noticed her and straightened from their

thaw, more than long enough. ahead, some of the men in the camp finally noticed her and straightened from their tasks to watch. in spite of herself, she smiled and smoothed her skirt over her hips. it was difficult now to really remember what life had been like as a man; had she been such an easily manipulated fool, then? getting

you can see the result, all this hurly-burly and suddenness. i have a thought to call a question before the hall concerning everyone involved.” abruptly the gray-haired woman’s voice became smooth as butter. “as i recall, you supported the choice of merilille.” with a jerk, lelaine drew herself up. her eyes flashed. “i supported who the gray put forward, romanda, and

she was done with those instructions. the sitters’ heads whipped around, and two sets of eyes stared at her. they had forgotten she was there! struggling to keep her face smooth, she realized her foot was tapping irritably, and stopped it. she had to go along with what they thought of her a while longer, yet. a little while longer. at

think you could keep this a secret? soldiers talk, child. men always talk! bryne will be lucky if the hall doesn’t put his head on a pike.” egwene stood slowly, smoothing her skirt. she had been waiting for this, but she still needed to be careful. the game was far from played out, and everything could still turn against her in

she was. chesa took her cloak, and exclaimed when she felt her hands. “why, you’re ice to the bone, mother.” chattering away, she bustled around folding egwene’s cloak and siuan’s, smoothing the neatly turned-down blankets on egwene’s cot, touching a tray set on one of the chests that had been pulled down from the stack. “i’d jump right into bed, with

a foot nearer tar valon. and as for not crossing into andor—” “my sister lelaine, in her anxiety, has forgotten who has the right to speak first,” romanda cut in smoothly. her smile managed to make lelaine appear merry. still, she took her time adjusting her shawl just as she wanted, a woman with all the time in the world. “i

of tar valon.” this time, the silence was broken only by the sound of takima weeping. chapter 20 into andor e layne hoped that the journey to caemlyn would go smoothly, and in the beginning, it seemed to do so. she thought that even as she and aviendha and birgitte sat bone-weary and huddled in the rags that remained of their

had only to speak a few words to send them to their work. alise only had to clap her hands. if the rest of the journey could have gone as smoothly, elayne would have been willing to join those women in their greasy labors. long before reaching caemlyn, she knew that for a fact. once they reached the first narrow dusty

then there was the crimson rod that felt hot; hot, in a way. sitting on the edge of her bed at an inn called the wild boar, she examined the smooth rod by the light of two polished brass lamps. wrist-thick and a foot long, it looked like stone, but felt firm rather than hard. she was alone; since the helmet,

had taken the stone? weiramon more than agreed with the need, but not with the choice of who should wear the crown. he was not the only one. the man smoothed his features as soon as he saw rand looking, and swung down from his gold-tooled saddle to offer a bow that made tihera’s seem simple. iron-spined as he was, he

people not necessarily eager to be found. days passed before the first brought news. the high lord sunamon joined weiramon, a fat man with an unctuous manner—toward rand, at least. smooth in his fine silk coat, always smiling, he was voluble in his declarations of loyalty, but he had plotted against rand so long that he probably did so in his

eye caught motion, back down where bare stone gave way to brush and a few small trees. fifty paces away, a man stepped into the open and raised a bow, smoothly drawing fletchings to cheek. everything seemed to happen at once. snarling, rand hauled tai’daishar around, watching the archer adjust to follow. he seized saidin and sweet life and filth poured

younger, maybe as much as they could hold. they had both leaped up in strength since dumai’s wells. that was the way of it with men; women seemed to gain smoothly, but men suddenly jumped. flinn was stronger than gedwyn or rochaid either one, and narishma not far behind. for the time being; there was no way to know how it

man knelt beside rand, scrubbing dark hair out of his face. she moved back quickly enough when she realized he intended to channel, though, practically bounding away. ailil was much smoother about rising, but not noticeably slower in stepping clear. and she slipped a silver-handled belt knife back into its sheath at her waist. healing was a simple matter, if not

bonily thin with it, the brown sitter had an angular face and a long chin, not improved by a cap of curls. with spidery fingers she rearranged her shawl and smoothed skirts of dark golden silk, and her voice took on pointed amusement. “i’m uncomfortable saying what can and can’t be. for example, not long gone, everyone ‘knew’ only a shield

was lit only by seaine’s small light. they held their skirts high, but their slippers kicked up small clouds of dust however carefully they stepped. plain wooden doors lined the smooth stone walls, many with great lumps of rust for hinges and locks. “sitter,” zerah asked, finally showing doubt, “whatever can we be after down here? i don’t believe anyone has

around it. getting those few pieces down unseen had been difficult—especially when servants could not be trusted. clearing out the dust had been much simpler if no more pleasant, and smoothing the dust in the hall outside, necessary after every visit, had been simply onerous. “i was about to give up sitting here in the dark,” pevara growled. the glow of

black twisted her tongue—a vile thing to be forced to deny—but she handed zerah the oath rod with a decisive nod. shifting on her bench, the slender woman turned the smooth white rod in her fingers, swallowing convulsively. the pale lantern light made her appear ill. she looked from one of them to the other, wide-eyed, then her hands tightened on

gripped it till her knuckles went white. riding through the deep snows of andor, floundering through them, toveine gazal cursed the day she was born. short and slightly plump, with smooth copper skin and long glossy dark hair, she had seemed pretty to many over the years, but none had ever called her beautiful. certainly none would now. the dark eyes

equals, perhaps slightly as their betters, yet the wise ones called them apprentices and expected them to obey twice as fast as rand did. none of that showed on merana’s smooth face. “my lord dragon,” she said respectfully. “we only just learned that you had returned, and we thought you might be eager to learn how matters went with the atha’an

swayed, and for a moment, min thought they might collapse in puddles on the floor from sheer relief. “at least we managed to keep the details from cadsuane,” rafela said, smoothing her skirts unsteadily. “there was no way to stop everyone learning we had made some sort of agreement, but we kept that much from her.” “yes,” merana said breathlessly. “she

sideways. with a cry, min launched herself from the bed. she did not know what madness was happening here, could not even begin to guess. one of her knives came smoothly from each sleeve, and she threw herself at the maidens, shouting, “help! oh, rand! somebody, help!” at least, that was what she tried to shout. the third maiden, nandera, turned

wanted to lay her hands on you. i left my clan for you, rand al’thor. i will not have you spit on me!” somara moved a hand as if to smooth hair out of his face, then snatched it back. “this is how we treat a first-brother who dishonors us, rand al’thor,” she said firmly. “the first time. the next, we

amused. and quite mad. the wounds in rand’s side throbbed; they seemed to resonate with each other in distant pain. “show me where to find cadsuane,” he commanded. nandera rose smoothly to her feet and started off without a backward glance. he followed, and the others fell in behind him, dashiva and flinn, morr and hopwil. he gave them hasty instructions

the woman’s plain woolen dress was not the shade of white proper for a novice, and she had regained much of her dignity somehow, as if knowing her future had smoothed her present, but now she made a hasty curtsy, almost tripping over her cloak, and her nearly black eyes were anxious. “nynaeve sedai, elayne sedai, lord lan says you are

on, dyelin began to laugh. elayne wished she knew whether it was from delight over her plans or because dyelin saw her own path to the lion throne being made smooth. at least she knew what she faced, now. riding into caemlyn, daved hanlon could not help thinking what a city for the looting it was. in his years soldiering, he

to peer down into the bound man’s face. “i asked the great master moridin to send me a man with brains. poor jaichim here has very few.” hanlon frowned, and smoothed it away immediately. his orders had come from moghedien herself. who in the pit of doom was moridin? it did not matter. his orders had come from moghedien; that was

from his throat. morr set to studying one of his buttons, twisting it back and forth. he had been doing a lot of that this morning. min kept her face smooth. she was not going to slap him, and he was too big for her to spank. “andor is hers, just as you wanted,” she said. calmly. almost. “none of the

packed with those aiel women. they seem agitated.” his eyes never left rand, but min was sure he had noticed her touching her knife. “understandably, of course,” he went on smoothly. “i cannot express my joy at finding you alive after seeing what i did above. i came to report deserters. normally, i wouldn’t have bothered, but these are gedwyn, rochaid,

knew the look. perrin wondered whether they held the power. he would have wagered that the wise ones did. edarra and carelle were quietly watching every direction at once, and smooth faces or no, if he had ever seen anyone ready to fight, it was them. for that matter, grady wore readiness like his black coat; maybe he held the power,

on their feet, dark veils hiding their faces to the eyes; their spears were thrust through the straps of the bow cases on their back, and they worked their bows smoothly, but they cast glances toward faile, too. there were aiel all around, hundreds it seemed, a great noose closing in. mounted soldiers lowered lances, pulling back in their own circle

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corly and the other ten survivors of the kin’s knitting circle stirred uneasily under that disapproving scrutiny, dabbing their sweaty faces with embroidered handkerchiefs, adjusting their broad, colorful straw hats, smoothing sober woolen skirts sewn up on one side to expose layers of petticoats as bright as the sea folk’s garb. in part it was the stares of the aes sedai

it was over and done with.” when she and elayne were introduced as aes sedai, the aes sedai who had given the promises, alise made a choked sound and began smoothing her woolen skirts as though her hands wanted to latch on to reanne’s throat. her mouth opened angrily—then snapped shut without a sound when merilille joined them. that stern gaze

to be quite a storm once she let it break. reanne tried to keep a cheerful, eager face, yet her hands were never still on her skirts, constantly plucking and smoothing. kirstian simply clutched hers and sweated, appearing ready to empty her stomach any minute; when anyone looked at her, anyone at all, she shivered. the third kinswoman, garenia, was a

withdrew, nynaeve twitched her divided skirts straight, plainly irritated at the interruption, and opened her mouth again. “continue your demonstration, nynaeve,” caire commanded harshly. her dark face might have been smooth as a frozen pond, but she was not very pleased, either. nynaeve’s mouth worked before she could make any sound come out, and when it did, she went on in

nearly pure terror, so strong it was amazing that they could even have begun to embrace the source. what filled reanne to overflowing was eagerness, and no matter her skirt smoothing. as for the atha’an miere. . . . even tebreille exuded a wary alertness, and it did not take the quick darting of metarra’s eyes, and rainyn’s, to know the

will go with her,” edarra said, and nevarin added, “we will make sure she says nothing she should not.” seonid ground her teeth audibly, to perrin’s ears, and busied herself smoothing her divided skirts, eyes carefully down. annoura made a sound, very nearly a grunt, and turned her head from the sight; she herself stayed away from the wise ones, and

tucked into her skirt at the small of her back, where her shawl hid it. she would have felt if it slipped a hair, but she wanted to touch its smooth length with her fingers. no wise one would dare think her less than they, once she used that, perhaps today. and one day, it would give her rand al’thor. after

a shock. the gateway opened, and two women in nearly identical red-and-black silk dresses stepped through warily. at least, moghedien moved cautiously, dark eyes flickering in search of traps, hands smoothing her wide skirts; the gateway winked out after a moment, but she held on to saidar. a sensible precaution, though moghedien had always been a great one for precautions. graendal

thaw, more than long enough. ahead, some of the men in the camp finally noticed her and straightened from their tasks to watch. in spite of herself, she smiled and smoothed her skirt over her hips. it was difficult now to really remember what life had been like as a man; had she been such an easily manipulated fool, then? getting

think you could keep this a secret? soldiers talk, child. men always talk! bryne will be lucky if the hall doesn’t put his head on a pike.” egwene stood slowly, smoothing her skirt. she had been waiting for this, but she still needed to be careful. the game was far from played out, and everything could still turn against her in

bonily thin with it, the brown sitter had an angular face and a long chin, not improved by a cap of curls. with spidery fingers she rearranged her shawl and smoothed skirts of dark golden silk, and her voice took on pointed amusement. “i’m uncomfortable saying what can and can’t be. for example, not long gone, everyone ‘knew’ only a shield

was lit only by seaine’s small light. they held their skirts high, but their slippers kicked up small clouds of dust however carefully they stepped. plain wooden doors lined the smooth stone walls, many with great lumps of rust for hinges and locks. “sitter,” zerah asked, finally showing doubt, “whatever can we be after down here? i don’t believe anyone has

swayed, and for a moment, min thought they might collapse in puddles on the floor from sheer relief. “at least we managed to keep the details from cadsuane,” rafela said, smoothing her skirts unsteadily. “there was no way to stop everyone learning we had made some sort of agreement, but we kept that much from her.” “yes,” merana said breathlessly. “she

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Winter's Heart - Robert Jordan.txt

the scar along her jaw stand out in a pale line. pevara appeared calmer, at first glance, yet one hand gripped her red-embroidered skirts tightly and the other held the smooth white cylinder of the oath rod like a foot-long club she was ready to use. she might be ready; pevara was far tougher than her plump exterior suggested, and determined

gave herself a shake, then fixed her eyes on talene as though determined to hold the shield on her by willpower if need be. doesine was licking her lips, and smoothing her dark golden skirts uncertainly. only saerin and pevara appeared at ease. “so,” saerin said softly. perhaps “faintly” was a better word. “so. black ajah.” she drew a deep breath,

had her way, nynaeve al’meara was going to be the aes sedai advisor to the next queen of andor. she needed all the help she could find—help she could trust. smoothing her face, she turned away from the blazing hearth. thirteen tall armchairs, carved simply but with a fine hand, made a horseshoe arc in front of the fireplace. paradoxically, the

the forsaken, she could not have named two people she wanted less to see right then. reene was supposed to see this did not happen! “forgive me,” she said, rising smoothly, “but i am very busy, now. matters of state, you understand, or i would greet you as your stations deserve.” the sea folk were sticklers for ceremony and propriety, at

their days traveling to buy food.” the almost-smile vanished in a faint grimace; his boots shifted slightly. annoyance lasted only an instant, though. “food is a small problem,” he said smoothly, spreading his hands. “as you say, my men can travel. to anywhere i command. i doubt you could stop me buying whatever i want even ten miles from caemlyn, but

watching her as well, out of the corner of her eye. “there’s a problem with some of those two rivers men, logain,” vinchova said. an angry flush rose on his smooth face. “men, i say, but these two are boys, fourteen at most! they won’t say.” he might have been a year or two older, with his beardless cheeks. “it was

“whatever the lord dragon ordered, i trust i’ve made my orders clear.” every head nodded this time, and some men murmured “yes, logain” and “as you say, logain.” toveine hastily smoothed the sneer from her lips. ignorant louts. the tower accepted girls under fifteen only if they had already begun channeling. the other was interesting, though. the two rivers again. everyone

else. not you.” perhaps that was brusque, but dobraine’s expression hardly changed. his eyebrows rose slightly at the name written on the second packet; that was all. he made a smooth bow. cairhienin usually were smooth. “it shall be as you say. forgive me, but you sound as though you mean to be gone a long while.” rand shrugged. he trusted

was brusque, but dobraine’s expression hardly changed. his eyebrows rose slightly at the name written on the second packet; that was all. he made a smooth bow. cairhienin usually were smooth. “it shall be as you say. forgive me, but you sound as though you mean to be gone a long while.” rand shrugged. he trusted the high lord as far

emotion, now. an experienced player in the game of houses, was dobraine. for her part, the headmistress managed to look pleased and disgruntled at the same time, and busied herself smoothing her dress unnecessarily the way women did when hard-pressed not to speak their minds. complain how she would about dreamers and philosophers, she was jealous of the academy’s well-being. she

lived, perrin let the wind whip his fur-lined cloak as he pulled on his gloves. the midday sun gave no warmth, and the air bit deep. he kept his face smooth, but he was too angry to feel the cold. keeping his hands from the axe at his belt was an effort. masema—he would not call the man prophet, not in

the aielwomen as they. gallenne’s one eye was on berelain, awaiting a sign he should draw the sword he was gripping, while she was intent on perrin, her face still smooth and unreadable. grady and neald had their heads together, casting quick, grim glances in his direction. balwer sat very still, like a sparrow perched on the saddle, trying to be

faded away, until only one lingered. mourn, and meet her again in the wolf dream. then that also was gone. “are you listening?” arganda demanded roughly. he was not a smooth-faced noble, and despite his silks and the gold-work atop the silver of his breastplate he looked like what he was, a graying soldier who had first hefted a lance as

here after all. though more than enough seemed to be, judging by the unending river of them passing by. galina reached her then, and anything else fled from her mind. smoothing her face to a ragged semblance of composure, galina clutched faile’s head in both hands without speaking a word. faile might have gasped; she could not be sure. the world

and the bread not much softer, yet they tasted like a feast! her mouth watered for every bite. chewing a mouthful of cheese, she knotted the last bootlace and stood, smoothing down her robes. as she reached for some more bread, one of the women wearing gold, plump and plain and weary-eyed, took another belt of golden chain out of a

my father’s name, she thought bitterly. “nothing too trying,” galina replied. “you marked therava, of course? of course, you did. everyone notices therava. she keeps something in her tent, a smooth white rod about a foot long. it is in a red chest with brass banding that is never locked. bring it to me, and i will take you with me

wolf dream, but awake there was awake, as far as your body was concerned. his stomach rumbled loudly. “and food.” berelain made an exasperated sound in her throat and rose, smoothing her skirts, her chin lifted high with disapproval. “annoura will not be pleased with you when she comes back from talking with the wise ones,” she said firmly. “you can’t

of stiffness, as though perrin had said he was too old and fat for the task. he certainly smelled of vexation, all prickly and ginger, though his cold-reddened face was smooth. “not like tallanvor—nothing like that, of course—but very fond all the same. and of the lady faile, of course,” he added hastily. “it’s just that it seems i’ve known maighdin

was awake, and she told lini . . . she implied . . . i mean to say . . . don’t look at me that way, my lord.” perrin smoothed the snarl from his face. tried to, at any rate. it stayed in his voice. “burn me, i slept in that tent, man. that is all i did! you tell

cairhienin who stood out for their short stature and pale skins. some were merchants, caught by the sudden onset of winter or hoping to steal a jump on their competition, smooth-faced puffed-up folk who knew that trade was the life’s blood of nations, and every one of them claiming to be a major artery even when betrayed by a poorly dyed

could step up recruiting, about whether it was time to sell the palace’s plate and the rest of her gems. a gloomy list to consider, but she kept her face smooth and serenely acknowledged the scant cheers that followed her. a queen could not show herself afraid, especially when she was. the royal palace was a pure white confection of intricately

a few of the mirrored stand-lamps were lit. plain lamps here, the iron worked into simple scrolls. everything was utilitarian, the plastered cornices unadorned, the white stone walls bare and smooth. word of their arrival had spread, and before they were well inside, half a dozen men and women appeared, bowing and curtsying, to take cloaks and gloves. their livery differed

she realized that she was standing there scowling at nothing. servants hesitated as they went by, and tucked their heads down as if afraid she might be glaring at them. smoothing her face, she gestured to a gangling, pimply-faced boy coming down the hall. he bowed so awkwardly and so deeply that he staggered and almost fell over. “find mistress harfor

you, elayne,” vandene said without preamble. her white hair, gathered at the nape of neck with a dark green ribbon, had always given her an air of age despite her smooth cheeks. her sister’s murder had added grimness, soaked it into the bone, so she seemed like an implacable judge. she had been slender; now she was bony, her cheeks hollow.

assume meekness again. a semblance of it. they had sense enough to know that novices did not open their mouths to aes sedai, though. elayne shoved down the desire to smooth everything over. she wanted to slap kirstian and zarya both. they had complicated everything by not keeping their mouths shut in the first place. she wanted to slap nynaeve. so

and she took great pleasure in the freedom to use saidar as often as she wished, as well as pride in weaving well. “the good news,” she said, standing and smoothing her skirts, “is that three of the damane seem ready to be let out of their collars. perhaps.” elayne’s eyebrows rose, and she exchanged surprised looks with nynaeve. of the

power with the wise ones. “well, we wouldn’t want the pair of you being too proud,” birgitte said with what sounded suspiciously like suppressed mirth. her face was much too smooth, almost rigid with the effort of not laughing. aviendha eyed birgitte with a wooden-faced wariness. since she and elayne had adopted one another, birgitte had adopted her, too, in way.

of the tongue.” nynaeve harrumphed and gave her a sidelong glare. “one day you will be too clever, elayne. so sharp you cut yourself.” “she is clever, nynaeve al’meara.” rising smoothly to her feet, aviendha settled her heavy skirts, then patted her horn-hilted belt knife. it was not so large as the blade she had worn as a maiden, yet still

she has me to watch her back. i have permission to stay with her, now.” nynaeve opened her mouth angrily. and for a wonder, closed it again, composing herself visibly, smoothing her skirts and her features. “what are you all staring at?” she muttered. “if elayne wants this fellow close enough to pinch her whenever he feels like, who am i

but what happens when she swears? what about aloisia? will she fall over dead? you can’t ask them to swear, not knowing.” “i don’t ask anything.” egwene’s face was still smooth, but her back had straightened, her voice cooled. and hardened. her eyes augered deep. “any woman who wants to be a sister will swear. and anyone who refuses and still

had been there when the gateway opened. one edge of it had sliced the corner 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.

she could feel the source beyond it, almost see the source, like light and warmth just beyond the corner of vision. in desperation, panting, she felt her way across the smooth surface. it had an edge, like a circle at once small enough to hold in her hands and large enough to cover the world, but when she attempted to slip

back toward the chairs without another glance at nynaeve. “windfinders, i will have words with you after she goes. i will see you at the same hour tomorrow, nynaeve sedai.” smoothing her rumpled skirts and irritably shaking out her shawl again, nynaeve attempted to regather a little dignity. it was not easy, sweat-slicked and trembling. she certainly had not whimpered! she

had had so much time with him and she had not. well, if he wanted to play surprises . . . “we want to bond you our warder,” she said, smoothing her dress under her as she took a chair. min sat on the edge of the table, legs dangling, and aviendha settled onto the carpet cross-legged, carefully spreading out her

and i have to talk while we can,” min said hurriedly, springing off the table. “somewhere we can be alone. if you’ll excuse us?” aviendha rose from the carpet gracefully, smoothing her skirts. “yes. min farshaw and i must learn about one another.” she eyed min doubtfully, adjusting her shawl, but they left arm in arm. rand watched them warily, as

a padded bench in front of one of the fireplaces and began playing cat’s cradle. “your sister is assisting us in learning what happened on the unfortunate day,” cadsuane said smoothly, and somewhat absently. taking a swallow of her own spiced wine, she waited, uncaring whether they saw her impatience. no matter how dobraine grumbled about how impossible it was to

a dark coat with horizontal stripes of color down the front, stepped into her path and bowed. she had to stop for him. “grace favor you, cadsuane sedai,” he said smoothly, “forgive me for bothering you when you are in such a hurry, but i thought i should tell you that the lady caraline and the high lord darlin are no

to shayol ghul. in any case, she despised anything to do with nature, as he recalled. osan’gar frowned at “idiots” and “blind fools,” as well he might, but he quickly smoothed that plain, creased face, so unlike the one he had been born with. by whatever name he was called, he had always known who he dared challenge and who not.

a loss of sei’taer, albatross or no albatross. selucia wiped away the last of the lather with a warm damp cloth, then used a dry cloth, and finally powdered her smooth scalp lightly with a brush. when her dresser stepped back, tuon rose and let her elaborately embroidered blue silk dressing gown slide to the gold-and-blue patterned carpet. instantly the cool

commanding her seekers. the macura woman flung herself down prostrate and kissed the deck before a few quiet words from yuril made her get back to her feet blushing and smoothing her pleated red skirts. tuon had been uncertain about taking her into service, back in tanchico, but the woman had pleaded like a da’covale. she hated aes sedai in her

lofting tubes a few days ago,” she said, “but me, i have thought about this long before you. i had reason.” for a moment, her voice was bitter, but it smoothed out again, and became a little amused. “i will set you the puzzle, since you are so clever, no?” she said, arching an eyebrow. oh, she definitely was amused by

much steadier than before. at a gesture from the so’jhin, the yellow-haired man went running to open the door and kneel holding it open, but there was still all the smoothing and adjusting of clothes that women had to do before they would go anywhere, seanchan or altaran or from anywhere else. though, the red-haired da’covale performed the function for tuon

ladies, not high anything, but that hardly mattered. a lord was a lord, and besides, the men and women going to fetch a serving maid for more drinks had the smooth-cheeked disdainful look of officers themselves, which meant the folk they were fetching for had rank to cause a man trouble. several noticed him and frowned, and he almost left. then

“i trust you don’t let that sort of thing go on everywhere, mistress anan?” “i assure you, you will never see the like again under my roof,” the innkeeper replied smoothly. the so’jhin was frowning at mat and the woman on his lap, too, and egeanin had to tug at his coatsleeve before he gave a start and followed her back

before she entered. tessi was not one she expected smiles from, not yet. “how is my little tessi feeling today?” she asked. “tessi do feel very well,” the damane replied smoothly. always before she had had to struggle to speak properly, and had earned her latest switching for outright refusal only yesterday. fingering her chin thoughtfully, bethamin studied the kneeling damane.

she pushed him away. at least he knew enough not to protest that. while he tugged on his coat, she shook out the pleats of her dress and attempted to smooth away the wrinkles from lying on the bed. there seemed to be a good many, despite how still she had been. this knock might be a summons from suroth or

man’s eyes, yet he still did not realize that pausing to gloat had already killed him. he moved back, trying to get room to complete his draw, but rand followed smoothly, keeping the sword trapped, and pivoted from the hips, driving folded knuckles hard into rochaid’s throat. cartilage cracked loudly, and the renegade forgot about trying to kill anyone. staggering backwards,

staring down at nynaeve, but somehow she made the word both a criticism and a command. nynaeve glared up at the woman and took her sweet time in standing and smoothing her skirts, but at least she stood. rand waited no longer before rushing upstairs. lan was waiting at the head of the stairs, just out of sight of the common

swung as she turned her head to watch shalon and her companions. she was a handsome woman, but not one you would notice twice in a crowd except that her smooth face did not match her hair. once you came to know her, it was too late. shalon would have given much to see how that weave was done, even if

that mean something? likely not. “am i to approach the coramoor like a deckgirl touching my heart to a sailmistress?” when several aes sedai were together, you could see the smooth-faced agelessness clearly, so you could not say whether any one was twenty or twice that even if her hair was white, and beldeine simply looked a girl of twenty. and

horse was difficult enough without having to talk at the same time. besides, she suddenly knew why harine was behaving in such a peculiar fashion. harine must be trying to smooth the waters with the aes sedai. it had to be that. harine never controlled her temper without great need. the strain of controlling it now must have her boiling inside.

why would fables frighten an aes sedai? harine opened her mouth, then motioned for shalon to ask the obvious question. perhaps she was to make friends with sarene to help smooth her course, too? shalon’s head really did ache. but she was curious, too. “what ways are those?” she asked carefully. did the woman really believe in people five spans tall

and those sweeping the stone floor with large pushbrooms. two more grooms were leading horses down a wide corridor that gave off the smell of hay and dung. a plump, smooth-cheeked man in his middle years came scurrying across the paving stones, bobbing his head in small bows and dry-washing his hands. where the other men had their long hair tied

this thing that had taken the source away. after a moment, harine joined them. to shalon’s surprise, the drop that made kumira uneasy was less than twenty feet, below, a smooth floor tiled in blue and white to make a convoluted maze centered on a double-pointed red oval rimmed with yellow. beneath the balcony, three women in white sat on stools

therin go still, like a ridge cat crouching in the shadows. lews therin was almost as wary of this woman as he was himself. red-faced, min scrambled to her feet smoothing furiously at her dress. “you said it was her!” she said accusingly, just as alanna entered. cadsuane closed the door. alanna glanced once at min and dismissed her, focusing on

any circumstances to a man who could channel. “you need us, rand.” rising, she shifted as if she wanted to pace, but instead she stood watching him, unblinking. her hands smoothed her skirts as if she was unaware of what they were doing. “you need the support of aes sedai. without it, you will have to conquer every nation, and you

house in three made of well-dressed stone, some of three stories, and more roofed with tiles in every hue of the rainbow than with thatch. some streets were paved with smooth well-fitted stone, new and unworn as yet, and there was even a thick stone wall going up around the town, with towers and iron-plated gates that would have suited a

“you need fresh air.” the air in the high colonnade was certainly fresh. and crisp, though the sun stood high in a gray sky. a cold breeze blew around the smooth columns, so the guardswomen standing ready to protect her from pigeons had to hang on to their plumed hats. perversely, elayne refused to ignore the chill. “dyelin talked to you,”

on starvation to defeat them, if it comes to that.” after a little time away from the sea folk, her big eyes were no longer perpetually startled, and despite her smooth aes sedai composure, it was plain she had decided to dislike doilin mellar no matter whose life he had saved. “as for numbers, something over two hundred thousand, i should

a single long peak, kayen dismounted and handed her down. he hesitated over whether to do the same for birgitte and aviendha, but birgitte solved his dilemma by stepping down smoothly and handing her reins to a waiting soldier, aviendha by half-falling out of the saddle. she had improved her riding, but mounting and dismounting still gave her difficulty. glaring around

aviendha by half-falling out of the saddle. she had improved her riding, but mounting and dismounting still gave her difficulty. glaring around her to see whether anyone was laughing, she smoothed down her bulky skirts, then unwrapped the shawl from around her head and settled it on her shoulders. birgitte watched her horse being taken away as though she wished she

in the tent. the tiny woman who ran when elayne ordered her and squeaked when windfinders looked at her sat up straight and faced tenobia as an aes sedai, her smooth face as frosty as her tone. “the affairs of the tower are for initiates to know, tenobia. if you want to learn, ask to have your name written in the

tangle of bedding, him in only the silk scarf that hid the hanging scar around his neck, and her in her skin. a very fine skin it was, too, as smooth as he had ever touched. idly she traced his other scars with a long, green-lacquered fingernail. one way and another, he had acquired quite a few, though not for want

by a silvery a’dam to the plump olive-skinned sul’dam he had seen walking teslyn. the dark-haired damane answered to the name pura. the aes sedai agelessness was clear on her smooth face. he had not really believed teslyn when she said the woman had become a true damane, but the graying sul’dam leaned low in her saddle to say something to

well make it even harder to pass the gates. “edesina azzedin,” he said reluctantly. “i don’t know anything more about her.” “edesina,” joline said slowly. a tiny frown creased her smooth forehead. “i heard that she had—” whatever she had heard, she snapped her teeth shut on it and fixed him a fierce stare. “are they holding any other sisters? if

asking questions of the blood was supposed to be done delicately. domon grunted and shook his head, and for a moment she looked even angrier, but then her stern face smoothed. on the other hand, her eyes bored into mat like augers, and she rose to stand with her feet apart and her hands on her hips, confronting him. “i will

that came to him through the bond was a grim intensity. “please don’t be a fool.” “i promised verin i’d try not,” he said, but min did not smile. he smoothed out the page on his chest. the writing was in a spidery hand he did not recognize, and there was no signature. i know who you are, and i wish

your hands. i have faced more than twenty men who could channel, over the years. he holds no fears for me.” “we do thank you for the offer,” aleis replied smoothly, “but we prefer to communicate with tar valon, first.” to negotiate his price, she meant. well, what had to be, had to be. “do you mind telling us how you

done, had to be done, though. “are you going to wait all day, rand?” nynaeve asked when alivia set off back to cadsuane, even more quickly than she had come. smoothing her cloak under her, nynaeve sat down on an upthrust gray stone the size of a small bench, pulled the scrip onto her lap, and flipped back the leather flap.

pulled the scrip onto her lap, and flipped back the leather flap. rand folded himself to the ground cross-legged in front of her as she produced the two access keys, smooth white statues a foot tall, each holding a clear sphere in one upraised hand. the figure of a bearded man in robes, she handed to him. that of a robed

her feet. the faces on those figures were serene and strong and wise with years. “you must put yourself right on the edge of embracing the source,” she told him, smoothing skirts that did not need smoothing. “then i can link with you.” with a sigh, rand put down the bearded man and released saidin. raging fire and cold vanished, and

figures were serene and strong and wise with years. “you must put yourself right on the edge of embracing the source,” she told him, smoothing skirts that did not need smoothing. “then i can link with you.” with a sigh, rand put down the bearded man and released saidin. raging fire and cold vanished, and the grease-slick vileness of the taint,

the one had her skin yanked off!” “saidar,” he murmured in wonder. it was so . . . different. alongside the turmoil of saidin, saidar was a tranquil river flowing smoothly. he dipped into that river, and suddenly he was struggling against currents that tried to pull him further in, swirling whirlpools that tried to yank him under. the harder he

suited to destruction, to her. a huge ball of coruscating fire surrounded the other hilltop, red and gold and blue. when it was gone, that other hill ended in a smooth surface fifty feet lower than the old crest. moghedien was not sure why she had remained this long. there could not be more than two hours of daylight left, and

as aran’gar had said it might. but if that happened, there was no safe place, no shadows for the spider to hide in. suddenly something writhed up from that dark smooth surface, like a flame if flames were blacker than black, then another, another, until the dome boiled with stygian fire. the roar of ten thousand thunders made her clap her

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the scar along her jaw stand out in a pale line. pevara appeared calmer, at first glance, yet one hand gripped her red-embroidered skirts tightly and the other held the smooth white cylinder of the oath rod like a foot-long club she was ready to use. she might be ready; pevara was far tougher than her plump exterior suggested, and determined

gave herself a shake, then fixed her eyes on talene as though determined to hold the shield on her by willpower if need be. doesine was licking her lips, and smoothing her dark golden skirts uncertainly. only saerin and pevara appeared at ease. “so,” saerin said softly. perhaps “faintly” was a better word. “so. black ajah.” she drew a deep breath,

wolf dream, but awake there was awake, as far as your body was concerned. his stomach rumbled loudly. “and food.” berelain made an exasperated sound in her throat and rose, smoothing her skirts, her chin lifted high with disapproval. “annoura will not be pleased with you when she comes back from talking with the wise ones,” she said firmly. “you can’t

and she took great pleasure in the freedom to use saidar as often as she wished, as well as pride in weaving well. “the good news,” she said, standing and smoothing her skirts, “is that three of the damane seem ready to be let out of their collars. perhaps.” elayne’s eyebrows rose, and she exchanged surprised looks with nynaeve. of the

of the tongue.” nynaeve harrumphed and gave her a sidelong glare. “one day you will be too clever, elayne. so sharp you cut yourself.” “she is clever, nynaeve al’meara.” rising smoothly to her feet, aviendha settled her heavy skirts, then patted her horn-hilted belt knife. it was not so large as the blade she had worn as a maiden, yet still

she has me to watch her back. i have permission to stay with her, now.” nynaeve opened her mouth angrily. and for a wonder, closed it again, composing herself visibly, smoothing her skirts and her features. “what are you all staring at?” she muttered. “if elayne wants this fellow close enough to pinch her whenever he feels like, who am i

back toward the chairs without another glance at nynaeve. “windfinders, i will have words with you after she goes. i will see you at the same hour tomorrow, nynaeve sedai.” smoothing her rumpled skirts and irritably shaking out her shawl again, nynaeve attempted to regather a little dignity. it was not easy, sweat-slicked and trembling. she certainly had not whimpered! she

and i have to talk while we can,” min said hurriedly, springing off the table. “somewhere we can be alone. if you’ll excuse us?” aviendha rose from the carpet gracefully, smoothing her skirts. “yes. min farshaw and i must learn about one another.” she eyed min doubtfully, adjusting her shawl, but they left arm in arm. rand watched them warily, as

commanding her seekers. the macura woman flung herself down prostrate and kissed the deck before a few quiet words from yuril made her get back to her feet blushing and smoothing her pleated red skirts. tuon had been uncertain about taking her into service, back in tanchico, but the woman had pleaded like a da’covale. she hated aes sedai in her

staring down at nynaeve, but somehow she made the word both a criticism and a command. nynaeve glared up at the woman and took her sweet time in standing and smoothing her skirts, but at least she stood. rand waited no longer before rushing upstairs. lan was waiting at the head of the stairs, just out of sight of the common

any circumstances to a man who could channel. “you need us, rand.” rising, she shifted as if she wanted to pace, but instead she stood watching him, unblinking. her hands smoothed her skirts as if she was unaware of what they were doing. “you need the support of aes sedai. without it, you will have to conquer every nation, and you

aviendha by half-falling out of the saddle. she had improved her riding, but mounting and dismounting still gave her difficulty. glaring around her to see whether anyone was laughing, she smoothed down her bulky skirts, then unwrapped the shawl from around her head and settled it on her shoulders. birgitte watched her horse being taken away as though she wished she

her feet. the faces on those figures were serene and strong and wise with years. “you must put yourself right on the edge of embracing the source,” she told him, smoothing skirts that did not need smoothing. “then i can link with you.” with a sigh, rand put down the bearded man and released saidin. raging fire and cold vanished, and

figures were serene and strong and wise with years. “you must put yourself right on the edge of embracing the source,” she told him, smoothing skirts that did not need smoothing. “then i can link with you.” with a sigh, rand put down the bearded man and released saidin. raging fire and cold vanished, and the grease-slick vileness of the taint,

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Crossroads of Twilight - Robert Jordan.txt

and make examples of them. discipline had to be tight, now; tighter than ever. at the edge of a broad clearing, he paused again. the snow in the clearing was smooth and unmarked despite the camp hidden all around it. staying back among the trees, he scanned the sky. scudding gray clouds hid the noonday sun. a flicker of motion made

then, no cool study. not much of reason at all. hurriedly she summoned the image of the snowy landscape again and fixed it in her mind. trees and boulders and smooth, white snow. smooth, cold snow. logain did not look back at her, or give any outward sign, but the bond told her that he was aware of her momentary loss

study. not much of reason at all. hurriedly she summoned the image of the snowy landscape again and fixed it in her mind. trees and boulders and smooth, white snow. smooth, cold snow. logain did not look back at her, or give any outward sign, but the bond told her that he was aware of her momentary loss of control. the

it was a winning smile. he was too pretty not to know, much more beautiful than logain. life’s forges had hardened logain’s face, and left edges. this young man was smooth, yet. still, the sword and the dragon decorated his coat collar. he studied the two sisters with bright blue eyes. “are you bedding both of them, logain?” he said in

meidani the way cats stared at strange dogs. or maybe dogs at strange cats. no mildness, there. “may i ask about a point of arafellin law, sitter?” meidani said, as smoothly as if that were what she had been intending to say all along. yukiri nodded, and meidani began rambling about fishing rights on rivers versus lakes, hardly an inspired choice.

much help. she has a wide circle of friends, or did before the . . . current situation rose between the ajahs.” a touch of satisfaction tinged her voice, however smooth her face; she was still a rebel, in spite of the added oath. “investigating all of them will be difficult, if not impossible.” “forget her for the moment.” it took

multitude of narrow beaded braids rattling against one another. the pair of them took to studying a tapestry that supposedly showed the humbling of queen rhiannon, and for all their smooth faces, clearly they wished they were somewhere else. in their eyes, sitters were supposed to be equals. and so they were. normally. after a fashion. leonin should not have been

he moved a step farther away. while still keeping watch along the corridor, of course. a good man. a wise man. seaine had sense enough to look abashed. unconsciously, she smoothed her dress, covered with snowy embroidery along the hem and across the bodice, but almost immediately her hands knotted in her shawl and her eyebrows drew down stubbornly. seaine had

for. except that cadsuane would expect more. she always did. “are you listening to me, samitsu?” sighing, samitsu turned from the peaceful view through the window, taking pains not to smooth her yellow-slashed skirts. the jakanda-made silver bells in her hair tinkled faintly, but today the sound failed to soothe her. at the best of times she did not feel entirely

not to disturb the aes sedai. they were plainly making an effort not to even look in their direction, though that involved some contortion. the ogier rose to his feet smoothly, his head coming near the thick ceiling beams. his clothing was what samitsu remembered from meeting ogier before, a long dark coat that flared over turned-down boots. stains on his

held by sashalle’s cool gaze. “cera, aes sedai?” she said hesitantly, bending her knees in a curtsy and only then realizing that she still had her skirts gathered up. hastily smoothing them down only seemed to fluster her more. “cera doinal? they say . . . everybody says lord dobraine is . . . i mean, he was . . .

the paper from loial’s hand, but the ogier calmly handed it to sashalle, who inspected it without any change of expression, then handed it to samitsu. it was thick paper, smooth and expensive, and new-looking. samitsu had to control her eyebrows’ desire to climb as she read. at my command, the bearers of this are to remove certain items, which they

was his own fault. the old fool had gone wading in the shallows to scoop up minnows for bait with a basket that now sat half-submerged and anchored by a smooth stone at the edge of the water. despite his complaints about the weather, noal had come along to the river without urging or invitation. from things he had said, everyone

to pause a moment. fool woman! a scrap of a limp did not mean she was carrying him! he managed to keep a good temper, take the rough with the smooth and no complaining. why could she not? inside the city white roofs and walls, white domes and spires, ringed in thin bands of color, gleamed in the gray morning light,

demure ebou dari woman.” she made it sound a challenge. “you can do all the talking.” she made that into a warning. light! when a woman was not making everything smooth, she made things very rough indeed, and egeanin never made anything smooth. he was definitely in danger of chipping a tooth. beyond the entrance, the show’s main street meandered among

do all the talking.” she made that into a warning. light! when a woman was not making everything smooth, she made things very rough indeed, and egeanin never made anything smooth. he was definitely in danger of chipping a tooth. beyond the entrance, the show’s main street meandered among wagons like those the tinkers used, little houses on wheels with the

the heavy-jawed file-leader exchanged looks with metwyn, a boyish-faced cairhienin whose appearance belied his age and his weakness for tavern brawls. they had no call to look surprised. “everything going smoothly? i want to be away in good time.” rubbing his hands together against the cold, mat eyed the purple wagon uneasily. he should have brought her a present, jewelry or

rubbing his hands together against the cold, mat eyed the purple wagon uneasily. he should have brought her a present, jewelry or flowers. either worked as well, with most women. “smooth enough, my lord,” harnan replied in a cautious tone. “no shouting, no screaming, no crying.” he glanced at the wagon as if he did not credit it himself. “quiet suits

it, all the while staring at him proud and cold as a queen. he looked at the other bed, and mistress anan set down her embroidery long enough to ostentatiously smooth her skirts, making it clear she did not intend to share an inch. burn her, she was behaving as though she were guarding tuon from him! women always seemed to

either woman. she just looked at him expectantly, waiting on a response. he made a sound in his throat, too. not a whimper, just a sound. tuon’s face was as smooth as a stern mask of dark glass. her calm was madness, but this made gibbering look sane! she would have to be insane to think he would believe that offer.

was destroyed in the great fire of sohima, a matter of ten years.” not for the first time, karede was glad of the training that allowed him to maintain a smooth face no matter what. careless expressions gave away too much to an opponent. he remembered the face of the small girl who had laid that doll on his litter. he

grateful whicker when perrin reined him in well short of a slab-like crest of gray stone, two paces wide, that jutted up to his right. the snow all around was smooth and unmarked, but dog tracks covered the tilted span of stone, as though a pack had scrambled over it as they ran. dimness and shadows or no, they were plain

several huge trees lay half toppled and propped by their neighbors, each with a tall chunk sliced cleanly out of its splintered trunk. the tracks covered a stone outcrop as smooth and flat as a polished marble floor except for one hair-thin gouge cut through it straight as a plumb line. nothing resisted the opening of an asha’man’s gateway, and two

he resented was hearing this woman, of all people, echo his wife. “what are we talking about, then, that you don’t trust your own people to know?” her face remained smooth and smiling, yet the undercurrent of fear in her scent strengthened. it was nowhere near panic, but she believed herself in danger. her gloved hands were tight on the bay’s

gave berelain’s maid a brisk shake; the woman goggled at her in astonishment. masuri, on the other hand, waited beside her mare with an appearance of patience, spoiled only by smoothing the russet skirts of her silk riding dress as though unaware of what she was doing. the wise ones exchanged silent glances, expressionless as sisters themselves. carelle stood on one

catching his rider’s mood, stepper bared his teeth at masema’s gelding, and perrin had to rein him in sharply. “there were darkhounds here in the night,” he said, not very smoothly, but it was the best he could manage. “they’re gone, and masuri doesn’t think they’ll come back, so there’s no need to worry.” masema did not smell worried. he never

have galloped the whole way. “your wife,” masema said in a flat voice, directing a look at berelain that made perrin’s blood boil. even berelain colored, though her face remained smooth. “do you really believe you will have word of her today?” “i do.” perrin’s voice was as flat as masema’s, and harder. he clutched the pommel of his saddle, atop

whirlpools of color perrin did not realize he had moved until he found himself crouched over stepper’s neck, streaking after arganda. the snow was no less deep, the ground no smoother, the light no better, but stepper raced through the shadows, unwilling to let the roan stay in the lead, and perrin urged him to run faster. the approaching rider was

grow. the other man never saw an obstacle without seeing a way around. his silence shouted of impassable mountains. there had to be a way, though. when they reached the smooth stone outcrop, perrin walked stepper back and forth through the slanting bars of light, around the toppled trees and between the standing ones, unable to make himself stop. he had

surprise. “even an aes sedai would have to go some to do that. most tales of darkhounds are just people frightened by the dark.” frowning at the tracks crossing the smoothed stone, he shook his head, and sadness entered his voice when he said, “they were wolves, once. the souls of wolves, anyway, caught and twisted by the shadow. that was

to find a cache of coin or plate. when a huge man in the cadin’sor of an algai’d’siswai stepped in front of her, she swerved to go around him as smoothly as she could. a gai’shain always made way for any shaido. “you are very pretty,” he said, putting himself in her way. he was the biggest man she had ever

was room, while each piece of silk was hung on a horizontal pole, slung in the shade of a rough canvas pavilion erected at the edge of the square, and smoothed by hand to rub out wrinkles. with luck, nothing would need ironing. both of them knew how silk had to be cared for, but ironing it needed experience neither of

a lady’s maid even before entering faile’s service, but sevanna did not accept excuses. every time faile or alliandre went to hang another garment, they checked those already there and smoothed any that seemed to need it. faile was adding hot water to a washtub when alliandre said bitterly, “here comes the aes sedai.” galina was aes sedai, complete with the

in a gust of air even colder than that in the entry hall, and they quickly moved a little apart, just holding hands. elayne schooled her face to a serene smoothness fully worthy of an aes sedai. she could not afford to let anyone see her apparently seeking comfort in a hug. a ruler, or one who sought to rule, was

palace was almost always using saidar, whether to try forcing one of the captive sul’dam to admit that she really could see weaves of the one power or simply to smooth the wrinkles from a shawl without heating an iron. not this morning, though. windfinder arrogance often matched the worst shown by any aes sedai, yet even that must be quashed

over-ripe melon. her ability with healing fell short of the task, and aviendha’s was no stronger. despite the emotion she could feel in birgitte, the other woman kept her face smooth and unconcerned. “the forsaken,” she muttered dryly. and softly. that was not a name to bandy about. “well, as long as it has nothing to do with us, we’re bloody

we have enough right in front of us without fretting over things we can’t affect.” rasoria half-turned her head, frowning and plainly wondering what she had missed, but the words smoothed the anxiety from sareitha’s dark eyes. perhaps not from the rest of her, since her hands moved as if she wanted to smooth her brown skirts, yet she was willing

what she had missed, but the words smoothed the anxiety from sareitha’s dark eyes. perhaps not from the rest of her, since her hands moved as if she wanted to smooth her brown skirts, yet she was willing to follow the lead of a sister who stood as high as elayne. sometimes, there were advantages to standing high enough that you

regained serenity, if she had ever lost it. it sat easily on her, though she looked more like a wagon driver than an aes sedai despite her beryl-slashed silks and smooth, ageless coppery face. but then, greens usually were made of tougher stuff than browns. merilille did not look at all serene. wide eyes and half-parted lips gave her the appearance

there! if they were going to shove into her rooms, let them chew on that for ceremony! “the grace of the light be upon you also, elayne sedai,” zaida replied smoothly. she raised an eyebrow at aviendha, though neither at the continuing light of saidar, since zaida could not channel, nor at her nudity, since the sea folk were quite casual

on their reply. if it pleases the light, i will bathe with the other wavemistresses tonight at the harbor of illian.” elayne fought very hard to keep her own face smooth. the woman just announced that she intended to scoop up every aes sedai lying around loose in caemlyn and carry them off? and it sounded very much as if she

she was able to say at last, kissing the fingertips of her right hand and leaning forward to press them to zaida’s lips. aviendha grinned, obviously impressed. birgitte kept a smooth face, but the bond said she found it hard to believe elayne had come out so well. “it is agreed, under the light,” zaida murmured. her fingers on elayne’s lips

“we drew straws for the order to be introduced, and i drew short. northan stands with trakand. can’t let a ninny like arymilla take the throne.” he managed his sword smoothly, and he at least had reached his majority, but if he was many months past sixteen, elayne would eat his turned-down boots and his silver-knot spurs. their youth was no

haevin and dyelin were roughly of an age. “i have no guardian either,” branlet said uncertainly, his voice nearly as high-pitched as catalyn’s. dyelin gave him a sympathetic smile and smoothed his hair back from his forehead. it promptly fell forward again. “mayv was riding alone, as she liked to do, and her horse stepped into a gopher hole,” she explained

pronouncement until she was gaping like a fish. very satisfying. aviendha gave elayne a smaller smile, her green eyes sparkling with approbation above her winecup. elayne kept her own face smooth, but she wanted to grin back. the others were much more easily handled, much less infuriating. perival and branlet were shy their first time in caemlyn much less in the

than naean arawn. in any case, while arymilla had not precisely forbidden them to meet without her—elenia heard her teeth grind as much as felt them, and forced her face smooth—for the moment, it seemed wisest not to press matters. especially when there seemed no possible advantage to such a meeting. unfortunately, naean saw her before she could turn aside. the

was honey-sweet, and sickeningly doting. “you know i’ll keep her as safe as i keep myself.” smiling that empty-headed smile, she set about straightening nasin’s cloak on his shoulders and smoothing it with the air of someone settling a shawl on a beloved invalid. “it’s much too cold out for you. i know what you need. a warm tent and some

but he carried a dagger with the four moons of house marne on the pommel.” folding his arms, hanlon leaned against the side of the fireplace and kept his face smooth despite a desire to scowl. he had been sure that the plan was for elayne to take the throne, though what came after remained a mystery. she had been promised

the pommel. “go tell murellin that i will have a . . . bundle . . . for him to dispose of later, falion,” she said calmly. falion’s face remained smooth as polished marble, but she made a curtsy that lacked little of cringing before she scuttled out of the room at a run. watching the woman and her dagger from

in the bottom, but a little addition to one would have turned the dead man into easy prey. “catrelle mosenain, an ironmonger’s daughter from maerone,” the woman said, just as smoothly as if it were common knowledge, and he very nearly flinched in surprise. “you split her head open with a rock before you pitched her down, no doubt to spare

had proved impossible, so far. sudden snow squalls flared around the pursuers, or fierce freezing night winds, or the tracks simply vanished abruptly, the snow beyond the last hoofprint as smooth as fresh fallen. the residues of weavings made it plain enough they were being aided by aes sedai, and there was no point in taking a chance that elaida had

out so early, and by herself. she had never approached egwene before without another sitter or three for company. delana’s pale blue eyes gave away no more than did her smooth aes sedai face. “while we ride,” egwene told her. “we will want a little privacy,” she added when sheriam opened her mouth. “stay back with the others, please.” the keeper’s

calm and found it. she had entirely too much practice at that, too, of late. the gray looked up at her past the edge of her hood, her face utterly smooth. but her pale blue eyes were very sharp, now, like augers. “you might inquire what they think on the subject of negotiations with elaida, mother.” egwene almost smiled. the pause

foot in front of the other without lelaine’s permission, but they still said what they said. i think your advisors are closer to the feelings of most sisters, though, mother.” smoothing her gloves, she gave egwene a sidelong look. “you may be able to nip this in the bud, if you move firmly. it seems you will have the support you

everything, in our favor. with no way for food to get in or mouths to get out, the city will be starving inside a month.” egwene hung on to a smooth face with an effort. there was no real hope of ships to block the harbor, though none of them knew that. gareth had made it plain enough to her, however,

green than a librarian, was always beyond proper in her behavior. much beyond. her deep curtsies, suitable for a novice, carried at least a suggestion of mockery no matter how smooth her expression, not least because she had been known to curtsy when she saw egwene a hundred paces away. where had they been, she wondered. somewhere indoors, perhaps, or at

embroidered on the backs, too. leane paid minute attention to her clothes since joining the green ajah. her eyes widened lightly at the sight of egwene, but her coppery face smoothed immediately. taking in the situation at a glance, she put out a hand to stop a novice who appeared to be by herself. novices went to classes by family. “what’s

woman close to her middle years, with an unblemished skin that had never seen a day’s work in the field, gaped openly before recovering enough to make her curtsy, a smoothly practiced spreading of her white skirts with mittened hands. as tall as most men but willowy and graceful and beautiful, leane lacked the ageless look, too, yet hers was one

remember to curtsy. no doubt she had heard that the amyrlin was young, but it seemed unlikely she had given a thought to how young. “thank you, child,” egwene said smoothly. there had been a time when she felt strange calling a woman ten years older than herself child. everything changed, with time. “it won’t be for long. leane, would you

ways, too sure what can and cannot be done—but to puzzle out how to make cuendillar . . . !” she paused for breath, and salita moved into the gap smoothly. and coldly. “i still say it is wrong,” she said firmly. “i admit the discovery was a brilliant piece of work on your part, mother, but aes sedai should not

other novices have stopped believing her.” “she also pokes her nose everywhere,” salita put in the moment janya gave her an opening, “her and the groom, both.” her face remained smooth and cool, and she shifted her shawl as though that were the focus of her attention, but she rushed her words a little, perhaps fearing that the brown would take

“and i do not intend to lose a girl of nicola’s potential.” nicola would be very strong in the power, one day. “or sharina’s,” she added with a grimace, hands smoothing her skirts in irritation. sharina’s potential was nothing short of remarkable, far beyond anyone in living memory except for nynaeve, and ahead of nynaeve as well. some thought she might

eyes, though. had she been a cat, she would have had her back arched and her tail like a bottle-brush. rising gracefully to her feet on the layered carpets, she smoothed her dress over her hips. “very well, then. if you’re certain you don’t want me to stay.” with remarkable timing, a dull throb began behind egwene’s eyes, an all too

their report.” “so have escaralde and malind,” morvrin announced, coming in behind anaiya with myrelle. the green seemed an image of serene fury, if that was possible, her olive face smooth and her eyes like dark embers, but morvrin wore a scowl to make anaiya look pleased. “they’re sending novices and accepted running to find all the sitters,” the brown said.

as sulky. which only made her angrier, which made her head hurt more, which . . . “i’ve waited long enough,” she said, making an effort to keep her voice smooth. her head gave it a slight edge of sharpness anyway. perhaps sheriam thought she was supposed to meet her at the hall. gathering her cloak, she strode out into the

as cold as the snow, paused to offer cool courtesies to egwene and frown at akarrin. after a long moment, perhaps realizing that akarrin did not even see her, she smoothed her silver-embroidered white skirts, which did not need it, adjusted her shawl along her arms so the white fringe hung just so, and glided through the entry flaps as though

having to relearn lessons she had thought already learned. “nisain is the best of us at that,” akarrin went on. “with your permission, mother, i will let her answer.” nisain smoothed her dark woolen skirts nervously and cleared her throat. a gangly gray with a strong chin and startlingly blue eyes, she had some small repute in matters of law and

straighten her backbone. she was the amyrlin seat, and she needed a keeper, not a milksop. it took a few minutes for order to restore itself, sitters straightening clothes and smoothing skirts unnecessarily, avoiding each other’s eyes and especially not looking at the watching sisters crowded behind the benches. some sitter’s faces became stained with red that had nothing to do

point that she flashed from blue silk to cadin’sor to woolen skirt and algode blouse and back again as they talked, though she appeared not to notice. her face remained smooth enough to suit any sister. she certainly had nothing to worry about if the visiting aes sedai uncovered the kinswomen, or the captive sul’dam and damane, or the bargain with

day he rode into salidar. there was not another human being in sight. rubbing the ball between his hands, he took a short run and casually rolled it across the smooth grass. all nine pins fell, scattered as if they had been kicked. mat turned and picked up another ball, and the pins were back upright. no, there was a fresh

a long time. not a seanchan; never that! slowly, the dreams returned. she was climbing another path along a cliff shrouded in clouds, but this was a broad ledge of smoothly paved white stone, and there were no rocks underfoot. the cliff itself was chalky white and as smooth as if polished. despite the clouds, the pale stone almost gleamed. she

a cliff shrouded in clouds, but this was a broad ledge of smoothly paved white stone, and there were no rocks underfoot. the cliff itself was chalky white and as smooth as if polished. despite the clouds, the pale stone almost gleamed. she climbed quickly and soon realized that the ledge was spiraling around. the cliff was actually a spire. no

but at a rough rustle of canvas from the entry flaps, she very nearly embraced the true source. hastily she ran through novice exercises to compose herself, water flowing over smooth stones, wind blowing through high grass. light, she had been frightened. it took two to achieve any sort of calm. she opened her mouth to ask who was there. “asleep?”

made alviarin smile at the dust of the street for her uncertainty. the ball of pale light floating ahead of her for illumination, alviarin glided down the rough stone corridor, smoothing the dust behind with feathery brushes of air so it would seem undisturbed and rehearsing several choice things she would like to say to mesaana. she would actually say none

left on pillows or in secret spots. what had once seemed almost instantaneous responses now seemed interminably delayed. a stocky bald-headed serving man making his bow gulped audibly, and she smoothed her features. she prided herself on her icy detachment, always presenting a cool unruffled surface. in any event, scowling her way though the tower was going to get her exactly

you . . .” she clamped her teeth shut before her tongue threw everything away. there still had to be a way. “i’m surprised you returned,” elaida said, rising and smoothing her red-slashed skirts. she had never given up her way of dressing as a red. strangely, she was smiling as she came around the table. not a hint at a

undid the wrappings with the care she would have used with a piece of fine blown glass, revealing a ter’angreal, a brilliant red rod no larger than her forefinger, utterly smooth except for a few fine lines worked into the surface in a sinuous interconnecting pattern. embracing the source, she touched that pattern with hair-thin flows of fire and earth at

black armor, all overlapping plates like the scales of a snake, standing in front of one window. it was not a man, though. that bloodless face had no eyes, just smooth dead white skin where they should have been. she had encountered myrddraal before, in the service of the dark lord, and even managed to meet their eyeless gazes without giving

trembling hand to her forehead. her thoughts tumbled one over another, as she would have down the stairs. the great lord had marked her as his. her fingers slid across smooth unblemished skin. she had always prized knowledge—power grew from knowledge—but she did not want to know what was happening in the rooms she had left. she wished she did not

to include elaida herself as a threat to be extinguished. delivered to the great lord. her fingers fluttered to her forehead again. she had the black ajah at her command. smooth, unblemished skin. talene had been there, in elaida’s rooms. why had she looked at yukiri and doesine that way? talene was black, though she did not know that alviarin was,

every hour is most assuredly his last.” cadsuane barely refrained from glancing at the other woman. merise did not often go on at such length. the other woman’s face was smooth, her manner unruffled, but something had upset her. “i know you practice linking with him,” she said delicately, peering down into the courtyard. delicacy was required in talking to another

on guard was much of a size with alivia, but the two could not have been more different, and not just because elza’s eyes were brown and she had the smooth, ageless look of aes sedai, where alivia had fine lines at the corners of her eyes and threads of white almost hidden in her hair. elza leaped to her feet

on me, should i, cadsuane?” “events never wait on anyone,” she said, standing. erian flinched as if she had just noticed her, though cadsuane was sure her face was as smooth as the boy’s. and maybe as stony, at that. what had brought those warders from cairhien, and who had traveled with them, might be problems enough to go on with,

fifty of the winged guards to statues, long, red-streamered steel-tipped lances upright at their sides, and when she mounted, gallenne snapped another command that put them on their horses so smoothly they seemed to move as one. arganda directed a frown toward the aiel tents, frowned at the mayeners, then stalked over to where as many ghealdanin lancers waited, in shining

this friend than balwer was letting on. he was beginning to suspect there was more to balwer than the man let on. “and your companions, master balwer?” berelain’s face stayed smooth inside her fur-lined cowl, but she smelled amused. she knew very well that faile had used her young followers as spies and was sure that perrin made the same use

back of his neck really was standing stiff. something was very wrong, here. the aes sedai seemed not to sense it. then again, aes sedai could hide anything behind those smooth masks of cool serenity. the beads in annoura’s thin braids clicked faintly as she shook her head. masuri ran an icy gaze along the men on the wall. “if i

the oilfish harvest. annoura had smiled thinly at the suggestion that a jumped-up country lad might take a hand. she did not call him that—she could “my lord” him as smoothly as masuri or seonid—yet it was clear she thought some things clearly above his ability. she was not smiling now, standing behind berelain and studying the merchants as if to

if not for the presence of an aes sedai, his eyes might have set them running. everyone fell silent as perrin scooped up a handful of millet, the tiny spheres smooth and vivid yellow on his palm. this grain was the first clean thing he had seen in the town. letting the grain spill back onto the table, he picked up

berelain brought her white mare up beside him, holding her scarlet cloak close against the wind with one red-gloved hand. annoura reined in a few paces away, her ageless face smooth and unreadable. the aes sedai appeared to be giving them privacy, yet she was close enough to hear anything above whispers even without any tricks of the power. smooth face

face smooth and unreadable. the aes sedai appeared to be giving them privacy, yet she was close enough to hear anything above whispers even without any tricks of the power. smooth face or no, her beak of a nose gave her a predatory look today. her beaded braids seemed some strange eagle’s lowered crest. “you cannot save everyone,” berelain said calmly.

of blood dwindled as he jerked, and was gone before he slumped back to the ground, gray-faced. unsteadily, he raised the stump of his left arm to look at the smooth skin that now covered the end. if there was a scar, perrin could not see it. the man bared teeth at him. he still did not smell afraid. seonid slumped,

like an illuminator’s wares. bethamin’s dark face showed no sign of alarm. she had finished shaking out her cloak and hanging it on a peg while edesina was speaking, then smoothed her dress over her hips. tonight, she wore faded green petticoats. she complained that the ebou dari garment was indecent, and he supposed that he would have to find her

he stuffed it into his coat pocket and straightened, pushing the cupboard shut with his foot. “you have to face her some time,” he said. “and i need you to smooth things over.” he needed someone to attract tuon’s ire, someone to make him seem acceptable by comparison, but he could not say that, could he? “you’re a seanchan noble, and

comparison, but he could not say that, could he? “you’re a seanchan noble, and you can keep me from putting my boot in my mouth.” “why do you need to smooth things over?” egeanin’s drawl was hard as a saw. she stood against the wagon’s door with her fists on her hips, blue eyes augering out from beneath her long black

fell back a step or two. then selucia would bend her head to tuon’s, and they would go back to murmuring and fingering silk, red silk, blue silk, green silk, smooth shimmering silk and brocaded silk. jurador was a very wealthy town. luckily, he had tucked a fat purse of gold into his coat pocket. none of it seemed to be

guards asking questions, and who could say where that might lead? he knew he could smile most women into feeling soothed. the round-faced woman sniffed at him and bent to smoothing the bolt of silk as tenderly as tucking in a babe. most women, he thought sourly. down the street, a woman in a plain cloak let her hood fall back,

back. it might slow them down, at least. you keep saying you’re going to turn them loose sooner or later.” mat met tuon’s eyes. big dark liquid eyes, in a smooth expressionless face. she had pushed her hood back a little, so he could see her face clearly. if he left her behind, then she could not say the words, or

that were to go the washwomen today. she never minded darning or mending in front of egwene, but in her book, sorting laundry would have been stepping over that line. smoothing the grimace from her face, egwene was about to tell the woman to go get her own breakfast—chesa considered eating before egwene finished another transgression—but before she could open her

she might not be able to see the light of the power, but she knew when egwene wanted privacy. “kairen stang is dead,” nisao said without preamble. her face was smooth, her voice steady, and chill. short enough to make egwene feel tall, she stood as though straining for an extra inch. nisao did not usually do that. “seven sisters had

herself, and a novice’s life was supposed to be hard. emara’s gray eyes rolled to the fringe on theodrin’s shawl, and her mouth twisted into a scornful grin before she smoothed it away to spread her snowy, banded skirts for egwene. bright spots of color flamed on theodrin’s cheeks. egwene slapped a hand down on the table hard enough to rattle

it, and the women she told stared at her apathetically, apparently because of the freshness of anaiya’s death. that had stunned everyone. instead of answering, sheriam cleared her throat and smoothed her blue-slashed skirts. “you may not be aware, mother, but one of nicola’s cousins is larine ayellin. from emond’s field,” she added, as if egwene did not know that. “no

entry flaps were pushed aside, the men looked wary, even for warders. myrelle’s big dark eyes flashed at the sight of siuan, and her nostrils flared. morvrin’s round face remained smooth as polished stone, but she brushed her dark brown skirts with both hands as if wiping something off. perhaps it was unconscious. unlike sheriam, they did have to accept siuan’s

and she offered constant excuses as to why she could not pass on a warning at just this moment. perhaps in a few days, when the talks were going more smoothly. as if they were ever anything other than sisters talking in circles without saying a word that might send the other side away offended. no one at all but siuan

the white tower, i tried to live as an aes sedai. i have lived as aes sedai, and i will die as aes sedai. this cannot be allowed!” she turned smoothly to go, but she knocked over the stool she had been sitting on, apparently without noticing. theodrin hurried out after her. with concern on her face, oddly enough. “mother?” myrelle

shown this much disrespect in months. “if logain wanted revenge, mother, i suspect he would be in the white tower trying to kill reds.” despite her smile, her voice was smooth and level. a disturbing contrast. perhaps that was her intention. “perhaps it’s a pity he isn’t doing that. he might remove elaida. but that would be easier than she deserves.

believed it was their own choice. just thinking about it made her feel dirty. maigan met her gaze almost as levelly as lelaine had, though, and her voice was as smooth as her face. she had no thoughts of filth. “compulsion was used on sisters in cairhien. that seems certain, now. but i was talking about the bond, a different thing

reluctant nod. her mouth almost looked sullen. egwene suspected she had been wise to add “notes” and “hints.” leaving the onetime amyrlin seat looking like a sulky girl, she climbed smoothly into bela’s saddle. she had to walk the stout mare, at first, because of the frozen ruts in the camp’s streets. and because everyone would wonder if they saw siuan

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for. except that cadsuane would expect more. she always did. “are you listening to me, samitsu?” sighing, samitsu turned from the peaceful view through the window, taking pains not to smooth her yellow-slashed skirts. the jakanda-made silver bells in her hair tinkled faintly, but today the sound failed to soothe her. at the best of times she did not feel entirely

held by sashalle’s cool gaze. “cera, aes sedai?” she said hesitantly, bending her knees in a curtsy and only then realizing that she still had her skirts gathered up. hastily smoothing them down only seemed to fluster her more. “cera doinal? they say . . . everybody says lord dobraine is . . . i mean, he was . . .

it, all the while staring at him proud and cold as a queen. he looked at the other bed, and mistress anan set down her embroidery long enough to ostentatiously smooth her skirts, making it clear she did not intend to share an inch. burn her, she was behaving as though she were guarding tuon from him! women always seemed to

gave berelain’s maid a brisk shake; the woman goggled at her in astonishment. masuri, on the other hand, waited beside her mare with an appearance of patience, spoiled only by smoothing the russet skirts of her silk riding dress as though unaware of what she was doing. the wise ones exchanged silent glances, expressionless as sisters themselves. carelle stood on one

we have enough right in front of us without fretting over things we can’t affect.” rasoria half-turned her head, frowning and plainly wondering what she had missed, but the words smoothed the anxiety from sareitha’s dark eyes. perhaps not from the rest of her, since her hands moved as if she wanted to smooth her brown skirts, yet she was willing

what she had missed, but the words smoothed the anxiety from sareitha’s dark eyes. perhaps not from the rest of her, since her hands moved as if she wanted to smooth her brown skirts, yet she was willing to follow the lead of a sister who stood as high as elayne. sometimes, there were advantages to standing high enough that you

woman close to her middle years, with an unblemished skin that had never seen a day’s work in the field, gaped openly before recovering enough to make her curtsy, a smoothly practiced spreading of her white skirts with mittened hands. as tall as most men but willowy and graceful and beautiful, leane lacked the ageless look, too, yet hers was one

“and i do not intend to lose a girl of nicola’s potential.” nicola would be very strong in the power, one day. “or sharina’s,” she added with a grimace, hands smoothing her skirts in irritation. sharina’s potential was nothing short of remarkable, far beyond anyone in living memory except for nynaeve, and ahead of nynaeve as well. some thought she might

as cold as the snow, paused to offer cool courtesies to egwene and frown at akarrin. after a long moment, perhaps realizing that akarrin did not even see her, she smoothed her silver-embroidered white skirts, which did not need it, adjusted her shawl along her arms so the white fringe hung just so, and glided through the entry flaps as though

having to relearn lessons she had thought already learned. “nisain is the best of us at that,” akarrin went on. “with your permission, mother, i will let her answer.” nisain smoothed her dark woolen skirts nervously and cleared her throat. a gangly gray with a strong chin and startlingly blue eyes, she had some small repute in matters of law and

straighten her backbone. she was the amyrlin seat, and she needed a keeper, not a milksop. it took a few minutes for order to restore itself, sitters straightening clothes and smoothing skirts unnecessarily, avoiding each other’s eyes and especially not looking at the watching sisters crowded behind the benches. some sitter’s faces became stained with red that had nothing to do

point that she flashed from blue silk to cadin’sor to woolen skirt and algode blouse and back again as they talked, though she appeared not to notice. her face remained smooth enough to suit any sister. she certainly had nothing to worry about if the visiting aes sedai uncovered the kinswomen, or the captive sul’dam and damane, or the bargain with

you . . .” she clamped her teeth shut before her tongue threw everything away. there still had to be a way. “i’m surprised you returned,” elaida said, rising and smoothing her red-slashed skirts. she had never given up her way of dressing as a red. strangely, she was smiling as she came around the table. not a hint at a

herself, and a novice’s life was supposed to be hard. emara’s gray eyes rolled to the fringe on theodrin’s shawl, and her mouth twisted into a scornful grin before she smoothed it away to spread her snowy, banded skirts for egwene. bright spots of color flamed on theodrin’s cheeks. egwene slapped a hand down on the table hard enough to rattle

it, and the women she told stared at her apathetically, apparently because of the freshness of anaiya’s death. that had stunned everyone. instead of answering, sheriam cleared her throat and smoothed her blue-slashed skirts. “you may not be aware, mother, but one of nicola’s cousins is larine ayellin. from emond’s field,” she added, as if egwene did not know that. “no

entry flaps were pushed aside, the men looked wary, even for warders. myrelle’s big dark eyes flashed at the sight of siuan, and her nostrils flared. morvrin’s round face remained smooth as polished stone, but she brushed her dark brown skirts with both hands as if wiping something off. perhaps it was unconscious. unlike sheriam, they did have to accept siuan’s

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Knife of Dreams - Robert Jordan.txt

none of the uncertainty that might have been expected from a man who had held his present rank barely a month. “an urgent matter, my lord captain commander,” he said smoothly, making a very precise bow, neither a hair deeper nor higher than protocol demanded. “a child of my command charges another of the children with abusing a female relative of

thornbush met lightning of three prongs. leaf on the breeze countered eel among the lily pads, and two hares leaping met the hummingbird kisses the honeyrose. back and forth as smoothly as a demonstration of the forms. galad tried attack after attack, but valda was as fast as a viper. the wood grouse dances cost him a shallow gash on his

directions to the taraboners behind, he turned to peer at lanasiet through a looking glass. sunlight glinted off the tube’s banding. the sun was rising, now. the taraboners began dividing smoothly, lance heads glittering and all slanted at the same angle, disciplined men falling into ordered ranks to either side of the archers. the officer leaned over to converse with the

who stood there examining the screen that held the image of a kori, a huge spotted cat from the sen t’jore. lanky and graying, in armor striped blue-and-yellow, he pivoted smoothly at the soft sound of her footsteps and went to one knee, though he was a commoner. the helmet beneath his arm bore three slender blue plumes, so the message

her on either cheek, so she was forced to return the greeting while trying not to wrinkle her nose at the strong, musky scent he favored. galgan’s face was as smooth as his creases would allow, but she thought she detected a hint of worry in his blue eyes. a number of the men and women behind him, mainly low blood

was not so much serene as it was still, an unreadable mask. unless you pushed her to open anger, at least. even then her voice would remain as calm as smooth ice, though. an unnerving combination. “i heard disturbing rumors this morning about the battle at dumai’s wells,” she said abruptly. “bloody disturbing.” she had the habits now of long silences,

a cat guarded a mousehole. “but sisters do get reports from their eyes-and-ears. we can’t stop them learning what happened. i’m surprised it’s taken this long.” “that’s so,” javindhra added, smoothing her skirts. the angular woman wore no jewelry aside from the great serpent ring, and her dress was unadorned, and a red deep enough to appear near black. “sooner or

strange ter’angreal they possessed, and they would be defeated eventually. mention of what the forsaken had done twelve days ago brought a grimace, though, despite her efforts at keeping a smooth face. so much of the power wielded in one place could have been no one else. to the extent she could, she avoided thinking about that or what they might

forehead where shaidar haran had touched her. where the great lord himself had marked her as his. hysteria bubbled almost to the surface with that thought, but she maintained a smooth face by sheer will and gathered her white silk skirts slightly. that should keep her hands occupied. the great lord had marked her. best not to think on that. but

hand. a steady, measured pace. two of the sisters she passed ignored her simply because they did not see her. astrelle and tesan were discussing food spoilage. arguing, rather, faces smooth but eyes heated and voices on the brink of heat. they were arithmetists, of all things, as if logic could be reduced to numbers, and they seemed to be disagreeing

copy to the lamp flame and held each by a corner until they had burned nearly to her fingers before dropping them atop the ashes in the bowl. with a smooth black stone that she kept as a paperweight, she crushed the ashes and stirred them about. she doubted that anyone could reconstitute words from ash, but even so. . .

often left it lying in the open in her tent, but you will never pick that up, she had said. oh, galina could touch that wrist-thick white rod, stroke its smooth surface, yet however hard she strained, she could not make her hand close on it. not unless someone handed it to her. at least, she hoped that would not count

she was swaying slightly. she could taste blood. her hand went to her cheek, and she winced. “too hard?” berelain inquired anxiously. “no,” galina mumbled, fighting to keep her face smooth. had she been able to channel, she would have torn the woman’s head off! of course, if she could have channeled, none of this would be necessary. “now, the other

to be the first. their faces were all serene in the pale moonlight, but the brown’s hands were knotted in her shawl, and the sister leaning away from katerine was smoothing her skirts repeatedly. “about time for this, i think,” katerine said, weaving a shield. “we wouldn’t want you to try anything . . . futile.” her smile was vicious. egwene

seem to realize her situation.” barasine, still holding egwene’s arm, gave her a vigorous shake, but after a small stagger she managed to catch her balance and kept her face smooth, ignoring the taller woman’s glares. “in shock,” the plump red said, nodding. she did not sound exactly sympathetic, but after katerine, she was near enough. “i’ve seen that before.” “how

not understand, katerine? need i repeat myself?” apparently she did not. katerine flushed, but she said no more. the glow of saidar surrounded silviana, and she took over the shield smoothly, without giving any opening when egwene might have embraced the power herself. she was certain that she could, now. except that silviana was far from weak; there was no hope

been an order, delivered by the amyrlin seat in full fig. “what you’re saying is irrational,” carlinya said finally. her tone was still cool, her face serene, but her hands smoothed her embroidered white skirts unnecessarily. “if we capture elaida, we will try her and very likely still her.” if. their doubts and fears were not put to rest yet. “since

dignity made flesh, with an air of authority that seemed greater than ever tonight. every hair in place, she might have been entering the hall after a sound night’s sleep. smoothly siuan turned to the table and picked up the pitcher as if in anticipation. that normally would have been her role in this company, to pour tea and speak when

give her that much. “i thought that horse outside was the same i saw you ride in on, siuan.” lelaine’s gaze ran over the other sisters, each of them absolutely smooth-faced now. “am i interrupting?” “siuan says egwene is alive,” sheriam said as though relating the price of delta perch on the dockhead. “and leane. egwene spoke to siuan’s dreams. she

that is not why we sought you. ashmanaille says you have considerable acquaintance with murders.” a sudden gust of wind snatched at their cloaks, but beonin and ashmanaille caught theirs smoothly. phaedrine let hers swirl behind her, eyes intent on beonin. “perhaps you have had some thoughts on our murders, beonin,” ashmanaille said smoothly. “will you share them with us? phaedrine

cloaks, but beonin and ashmanaille caught theirs smoothly. phaedrine let hers swirl behind her, eyes intent on beonin. “perhaps you have had some thoughts on our murders, beonin,” ashmanaille said smoothly. “will you share them with us? phaedrine and i have been putting our heads together, but we are getting nowhere. my own experience is more with civil matters. i know

stand beside any aes sedai unrecognized for what she was. “you have always trusted me to know what is best,” she went on. “do you still?” his face remained as smooth as a sister’s, yet the bond brought an instant of shock. “but of course, beonin.” “then take winterfinch and go into the city. hire a room at an inn until

gilded writing table with her hands calmly folded on the tabletop, elaida do avriny a’roihan, the watcher of the seals, the flame of tar valon, the amyrlin seat, kept a smooth face while she listened to the man in front of her rant, shoulders hunched and shaking his fist. “. . . did be kept bound and gagged for most of

thicker than his forearm and more than twice as long, that lay across the saddle in front of him. for half its length he had shaved two sides flat and smooth. the meadow, ringed by huge oaks and leatherleaf, towering pine and shorter sweetgum, was less than six hundred paces wide, though longer than that. the branch should be broad enough.

which flowers, but he was too focused for idle thoughts today. vexation spiked in annoura’s scent, though her ageless aes sedai face, framed by dozens of thin braids, remained as smooth as ever. but then, the beak-nosed gray sister had smelled vexed ever since the rift between her and berelain. it was her own fault, visiting masema behind berelain’s back. she

he ducked in quick like, and . . . show the lady, theril.” shyly, theril reached into his wide sleeve—the robes usually had pockets sewn in there—and drew out a smooth white rod that looked like ivory, about a foot long and as slim as her wrist. looking around to see if anyone was watching—the street was empty save for them,

wiping wine from his chin with one hand. for a moment, he saw rand eating at a large dark table. “what else is there to know?” selucia refilled his cup smoothly. “a great deal, toy. for one thing, he must kneel to the crystal throne before tarmon gai’don. the prophecies are clear on that, but i haven’t even been able to

was visible, glistening like black silk. he suppressed a desire to stroke it. “burn how good my eye is,” he growled, clapping his hat on. he knew he should speak smoothly, but he could not have taken the roughness from his voice with a file. “do you always ride like a moon-blinded idiot? you could have broken that mare’s neck before

a large boulder right in front of him, nearly obscured by thick vines, resolved into a huge stone head, slightly tilted to one side. a woman’s head, he thought; those smooth roundels were probably meant for jewels in her hair. the statue it sat on must have been immense. a full span of the thing showed, yet only her eyes and

was studying the board, wondering whether he might have a small chance of gaining a draw, when joline led teslyn and edesina into the wagon like haughty on a pedestal, smooth-faced aes sedai to their toenails. joline was wearing her great serpent ring. squeezing by selucia, giving her very cold looks when she was slow to move aside, they arrayed themselves

wide. she swayed, and the rope-suspended table swung as she caught herself with both hands to keep from falling. if she was impressed, though, she hid it well. she did smooth her dark gray skirts once after she was upright again, but that might have meant nothing. her face was all aes sedai composure. edesina, looking over her shoulder, matched that

my stirrup when i ride? the robes are much the same as for a cupbearer, but i will have yours decorated with ribbons. pink ribbons.” he managed to maintain a smooth face, but he felt his cheeks growing hot. there was only one way she could know pink ribbons had any special significance to him. tylin had told her. it had

whoever is in command here.” “as the banner-general commands,” the fellow replied obsequiously, made another deep bow, and hurried through a door behind him. the clerk who was coughing, a smooth-faced fellow younger than perrin who, by his face, might have come from the two rivers, began hacking more roughly, and covered his mouth with a hand. he cleared his throat

her, and remembering her admonition, perrin did the same. the sleek woman inclined her head. slightly. she smelled of pride. “you wish to speak with me, banner-general?” she had a smooth voice, as sleek as she herself. and not welcoming. she was a busy woman being bothered. a busy woman well aware of her own importance. “yes, honorable,” tylee said respectfully.

bowing again. “if you could see your way clear to let us have—” “banner-general,” perrin cut in. plainly this was a touchy encounter, and he tried to keep his face smooth, but he could not avoid a frown. he could not be certain that even near five tons of the stuff would be sufficient, and she was trying to negotiate some

horses to realize that. muffled laughter pulled elayne’s head around. the women of her bodyguard, all twenty-one of them assigned this morning counting caseille, in polished helmets and breastplates, wore smooth faces—much too smooth, in fact; without doubt they were laughing inside—but the four kinswomen standing behind them had hands over their mouths and their heads together. alise, a pleasant-faced woman

that. muffled laughter pulled elayne’s head around. the women of her bodyguard, all twenty-one of them assigned this morning counting caseille, in polished helmets and breastplates, wore smooth faces—much too smooth, in fact; without doubt they were laughing inside—but the four kinswomen standing behind them had hands over their mouths and their heads together. alise, a pleasant-faced woman normally, with touches

you. i need the practice.” that was untrue, an attempt to spare her feelings. aviendha began weaving air, fire, water and earth in complex patterns, and doing so nearly as smoothly as she herself could have, if much more slowly. her sister lacked her skill with weather, but then, she had not had the advantage of sea folk teaching. the clouds

i can send the seanchan to collar will be a mattock digging at their roots.” “a harsh decision,” reanne said sadly. she plucked at her skirts in an agitated manner, smoothed them, then plucked at them again. “perhaps you might consider thinking on it for a few days? surely it isn’t anything that has to be done immediately.” elayne gritted her

guardswomen, daring them to comment. elayne prudently kept her mouth closed, and, the light be thanked, so did everyone else. for her part, she thought she almost had her temper smoothed, the desire to cry suppressed, and she did not want to say anything that might start chanelle shouting and undo all her work. for that matter, she could not think

mounted hunters confronting a leopard that had turned. she had one arm pressed across the middle as if her ribs hurt. the bond carried amusement, too—amusement!—though birgitte’s face remained as smooth as a sister’s. “i must travel to tear,” chanelle said breathily after a moment, and she turned away without another word or any gesture toward a courtesy. reene and reanne

minute engraving, it was much too thin to be of use as a helmet, though it was twice as heavy as it appeared. the metal felt slick, too, not simply smooth, as if it were oiled. aviendha put down the dagger reluctantly and turned the cap over once in her hands before setting it back on the table and taking up

quivered!—but he mastered himself instantly. it was all gone so fast that she might have imagined it. but she knew she had not. “as you command, my lady,” he said smoothly. his smile had an oily smoothness, too. “my honor is to serve you well.” with another flamboyant bow, he started for the door, as near to strutting as made no

was all gone so fast that she might have imagined it. but she knew she had not. “as you command, my lady,” he said smoothly. his smile had an oily smoothness, too. “my honor is to serve you well.” with another flamboyant bow, he started for the door, as near to strutting as made no difference. little could dent doilin mellar’s

all of him intended holding on as high seat until he died—but he did love her. “ellorien and some of the others will come to me yet, child,” she said smoothly. smoothness required some effort. who did the chit think she was? “aemlyn, arathelle, pelivar. they have grievances against trakand.” surely they would come once elayne and dyelin were out of

of him intended holding on as high seat until he died—but he did love her. “ellorien and some of the others will come to me yet, child,” she said smoothly. smoothness required some effort. who did the chit think she was? “aemlyn, arathelle, pelivar. they have grievances against trakand.” surely they would come once elayne and dyelin were out of the

those for weapons. “unpopular, as i say,” cadsuane said firmly, raising her voice. she favored min with a brief frown before turning her attention back to rand. her face was smooth, composed, an aes sedai’s face. her dark eyes were hard, like polished black stones. “especially in tarabon, amadicia and altara, but also elsewhere. if you agree to allow the seanchan

lip? and your chin! well, you can shave those right off again. don’t you grimace at me, son loial.” fingering the growth on his upper lip uneasily, he tried to smooth his face—when your mother named you son, she was in no mood to trifle with—but it was hard. he wanted his beard and mustaches. some might think it pretentious, as

alivia took a step toward him, frowning, but he shook his head slightly, and she turned back to her window, though her frown remained. cadsuane glided down the room, her smooth face sternly composed. “what does he feel?” she demanded of min. “don’t toy with me, girl. you know the cost of that. i know that he bonded you, and you

till twilight. plenty of work will be left tomorrow.” his left hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, relaxed, tightened. only that hand moved. her lips compressed. petulant? she smoothed her skirt furiously. she was not petulant! he seldom invoked his right to command in private—curse those sea folk for ever thinking of such a thing!—but when he did, the

their families could live for months on that much gold. min gazed after them with an expression of misery that the bond echoed even after she shook her head and smoothed her face. what had she seen? death, probably. rand felt anger, but no sorrow. how many tens of thousands would die before the last battle was done? how many would

had leather lungs as well. “do i need to call the stroke for you?” the twin insults tightened some faces in anger, others in chagrin, but the oars began moving smoothly again. shalon was studying the mist, now. asking what she saw, what she thought, would have to wait. harine was not sure she wanted the answer heard by any of

ship circled away. the others continued their waiting. harine did not stand until the crew had backed oars, and drawn them in on the starboard, bringing the twelve to a smooth halt right where jadein could catch a dangling line and hold the small craft alongside the larger. shalon sighed. “courage, sister,” harine told her. “we have survived shadar logoth, though

been intentional. it was not that he tried to dishonor anyone, yet he cared little for the honors of others. he bowed to zaida, handling the sword at his side smoothly, but he failed to touch heart and lips and forehead. still, some shortcomings had to be overlooked with the shorebound. “i apologize if i arrive late, shipmistress,” he said, “but

the number of her charges, too. and she was much too lenient besides, accepting excuses where there could be none. she recovered quickly, however, falling in beside romanda, though she smoothed her dark gray skirts unnecessarily. “difficulties? of course not. sharina is the best-behaved novice in the book. truth to tell, most are well-behaved. the greatest number sent to my study

to deal with lately. most of the older women only have to see a weave once to have it down.” abruptly, for a bare instant, red returned to her cheeks. smoothing her face, she drew herself up, and defensiveness fell away from her voice. “in any event, romanda, i shouldn’t need to remind you that the novices and accepted are mine.

egwene al’vere?” he demanded. “i was ordered to lay the offer before her.” “manners, jahar,” merise murmured, and his face colored. “the mother is unavailable at the moment,” romanda said smoothly. “you can tell us, and we will tell her as soon as we can. this offer comes from the dragon reborn?” and cadsuane. but learning what that woman was doing

the sort of thing that could only be used once. “she stripped you of the keeper’s stole and ordered your penance. that’s hardly an inducement to loyalty.” alviarin’s face remained smooth, yet her shoulders relaxed visibly. aes sedai seldom showed so much. she must feel under phenomenal strain to be so little in control of herself. she darted a look at

that well-manured ground would help her seeds to grow. beonin glanced up the hallway again, and tervail took a step toward her before beonin shook her head. her face was smooth despite the color staining her cheeks, but inside, she must have been in turmoil. “you know i could send you to the mistress of novices, yes?” she said in a

little she heard. she could not even tell whether there were two sides to the argument, or three. there were no raised voices, no shaken fists, and their faces remained smooth aes sedai masks, but the coldness in their voices left no doubt that had they not been aes sedai, they would have been shouting if not trading blows. she might

and it seemed unlikely she could see anything of that palace’s foundations, all that had been completed so far. “help yourself to wine if you wish.” tarna kept her face smooth with an effort. pillow-friends were common among novices and accepted, but girlhood things should be left behind with girlhood. not all sisters saw it so, certainly. galina had been quite

most of those camps are temporary, though. soldiers heading somewhere else.” selucia shifted in her saddle, and tuon signed patience in high imperative form, a command. she kept her face smooth, but inside, she was furious. knowing where soldiers were gave clues to where they were going. there had to be some way to burn that map. that would be as

care about. and i don’t think the banner-general will give up the chance to collar three or four hundred more damane to chase after them.” berelain grimaced. annoura’s face remained smooth, but she took a long swallow of her wine. none of the aes sedai felt very complacent about that part of the plan. none of the wise ones did, either.

release him. he could just break it. he should break it. as if she had heard his thoughts, she looked at him. her face, surrounded by dark shoulder-length ringlets, was smooth, but the bond suddenly carried suspicion and hints of anger. she seemed to be trying to suppress both, yet she adjusted the cuffs of her ornately embroidered red coat the

thing. he could not chance it, though. “you cannot trust any of the high blood, especially not a daughter of the empress, may she—” her mouth snapped shut, and she smoothed her dark blue skirts unnecessarily, grimacing at what she had almost said. he trusted her, literally with his life, but she had too many deep-buried instincts to risk putting her

logain had enough sense not to call cadsuane or nynaeve, but they rode to join rand anyway, placing themselves to either side of him, each briefly eyeing him, faces so smooth they might have been thinking anything. their eyes met, and nynaeve looked away quickly. cadsuane gave a faint snort. and min came, too. his “one more” to balance the honors.

of smoke vanished from his cuff, and she gripped his arm above the wrist. his entire arm began tingling, and the pain drained away. slowly, blackened skin was replaced by smooth skin that seemed to ooze down until it covered the small lump that had been the base of his hand. it was a miraculous thing to see. the scarlet-and-gold scaled

sitting on them and had her other arm twisted to her shoulder blades. dairaine still managed to twist, if uselessly. “she was frowning, but when she spoke, her face went smooth. i could just make it out. if she were really worried about being beaten, she’d have frowned harder, not stopped.” the golden-haired woman was not a very skilled lady’s maid,

they could not leave her here. someone might come at any moment to summon one of them to serve sevanna. “we can kill her and hide the body,” alliandre suggested, smoothing her long hair. it had become disarrayed in the struggle. “where?” maighdin said, combing her own sun-gold hair with her fingers. she did not sound a lady’s maid speaking to

wreathed in smiles. “try not to look so happy,” faile told her. wetlander gai’shain seldom smiled, and never so joyfully. alliandre tried to moderate her expression, but every time she smoothed her smiles away, they crept back. “we’re escaping today,” she said. “it’s hard not to smile.” “you’ll stop if some wise one sees you and decides to find out why

backed away a step. she was tairen, and despite traveling with aes sedai, she was still uncomfortable over the power or anything to do with it. she looked at the smooth white rod as if at a red adder and licked her lips. “galina might be waiting on us. she might get angry if we make her wait long.” “is the

her face suggested that she saw an abyss beneath her feet. “and if i do embrace it, i can almost never weave anything.” faile loosened her grip on maighdin and smoothed her hair instead. “i know it’s difficult,” she said soothingly. “well, in truth, i don’t know. i’ve never done it. but you have. and you can do it again. our

included them, despite the fact both had visited him in secret more than once. they regarded him with aes sedai calm, though masuri’s slim hands moved once as if to smooth her brown skirts. she said she had changed her mind and now believed the man must be killed, so why was she meeting him? why was annoura? why did masema

avoid accidents, but edarra had had to put her foot down to make them wear the things. bracelets of gold and ivory rattled as edarra adjusted her dark shawl. with smooth sun-dark cheeks that seemed darker because of her pale-yellow hair, she looked little older than perrin, but her blue eyes held an unshakable calm. he suspected she was far older

she intended to empty the skin, and suddenly she staggered. the next i knew, she just collapsed.” aravine’s hands fluttered like falling leaves. “she must be very tired,” faile said, smoothing her maid’s hair and trying not to think of how they were to get the woman out of the camp if she could not walk. it would be done if

ran. in a quarter of an hour or so he reappeared, still running, followed by seonid and ban and all the others. ban made a leg to faile and murmured smoothly how pleased he was to see her again before ordering the two rivers men to set up a guard ring around the gate, bows at the ready and halberds stuck

that most of them could not stand without help. i’ll have to send for to’raken to fly them all out.” seonid made a sound in her throat. her face was smooth, but her scent was dagger-sharp fury. she stared at tylee as though trying to stare a hole through her. tylee paid her no mind at all except to shake her

aside from masema’s men?” “light,” tylee replied. “between your archers and the damane, they never really managed to close with us. i’ve never seen a battle plan come off so smoothly. if we have a hundred dead between us, i’ll be surprised.” perrin winced. he supposed those were light casualties under the circumstances, but some would be two rivers men. whether

a woman wants a little privacy,” sumeko replied calmly, as if yet another kinswoman had not just died from wanting privacy. her voice was calm, at least, but plump hands smoothed her dark blue skirts. “if you won’t put the fear of the light into them, sumeko, i will,” alise said, her usually mild face stern. she looked the elder of

one will be able to claim i lack its backing then.” duhara studied her wine for a moment, her face a mask of aes sedai serenity. “it won’t be entirely smooth going for you,” she said as if elayne had not spoken. “this is the part i thought you wouldn’t want the wilders to hear. and that guard. does she think

spun, cloak flaring. “put those up! they’re no use here.” “i know what the warders running in means as well as you, my lady,” yurith said in courtly accents, obeying smoothly. and with clear reluctance. lean and as tall as most men, the saldaean denied being nobly born, but whenever the conversation came around to what she had done before swearing

but oaks hundreds of years old had been cut down and hauled away along with all the other trees and the flowering bushes, their roots dug out to clear a smooth space a hundred paces wide. the graveled paths and grassy ground had long since been trampled to mud by hooves and boots. three other parks around the palace had received

young man standing in front of her low-backed chair colored with embarrassment, yet he continued to look her in the eye. he was little more than a boy, really, his smooth cheeks likely shaved as much for form as because he needed a razor very often. very properly, hanselle renshar, arathelle’s grandson, wore neither sword nor armor, but the marks of

lady. i was simply told to ask for safe conduct.” he hesitated. “they will not enter caemlyn without it, my lady.” rising, she went to her writing desk, removed a smooth sheet of good white paper from the rosewood paper-box and dipped a pen in the silver-mounted crystal ink jar. precise letters flowed onto the page without her usual flourishes. she

dyelin said for about the fifth time since hearing of the safe conduct request. her face was cool and calm, yet she must have been feeling her nerves. her hands smoothed unnecessarily at her gold-embroidered skirts. “i won’t let her provoke me,” elayne replied. “neither will anyone else. i mean you, conail, and you, lir.” conail, in gold-worked blue, colored as

changed so many of their laws. burn him, why was he leaping about so? “i stood for you, elayne, and that means i always stand up for you,” lir said smoothly. he looked every inch the self-confident courtier in silver-embroidered green silk with house baryn’s silver winged hammer on the collar, yet he was too smooth by half, lir was. “but

up for you,” lir said smoothly. he looked every inch the self-confident courtier in silver-embroidered green silk with house baryn’s silver winged hammer on the collar, yet he was too smooth by half, lir was. “but i’ll hold my temper whatever ellorien says.” the bond surged with fleeting contempt. trying to demonstrate how loyal he was to elayne, lir had fought

right atop him, luan said, “norwelyn stands for trakand.” lightning flashed overhead, brightening the colored windows in the ceiling. elayne kept herself from swaying with an effort. birgitte’s face was smooth, but the bond carried amazement. it was done. she had eleven, and the throne was hers. “the more who stand for her, the better for andor.” dyelin sounded a touch

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a cat guarded a mousehole. “but sisters do get reports from their eyes-and-ears. we can’t stop them learning what happened. i’m surprised it’s taken this long.” “that’s so,” javindhra added, smoothing her skirts. the angular woman wore no jewelry aside from the great serpent ring, and her dress was unadorned, and a red deep enough to appear near black. “sooner or

forehead where shaidar haran had touched her. where the great lord himself had marked her as his. hysteria bubbled almost to the surface with that thought, but she maintained a smooth face by sheer will and gathered her white silk skirts slightly. that should keep her hands occupied. the great lord had marked her. best not to think on that. but

to be the first. their faces were all serene in the pale moonlight, but the brown’s hands were knotted in her shawl, and the sister leaning away from katerine was smoothing her skirts repeatedly. “about time for this, i think,” katerine said, weaving a shield. “we wouldn’t want you to try anything . . . futile.” her smile was vicious. egwene

been an order, delivered by the amyrlin seat in full fig. “what you’re saying is irrational,” carlinya said finally. her tone was still cool, her face serene, but her hands smoothed her embroidered white skirts unnecessarily. “if we capture elaida, we will try her and very likely still her.” if. their doubts and fears were not put to rest yet. “since

wide. she swayed, and the rope-suspended table swung as she caught herself with both hands to keep from falling. if she was impressed, though, she hid it well. she did smooth her dark gray skirts once after she was upright again, but that might have meant nothing. her face was all aes sedai composure. edesina, looking over her shoulder, matched that

i can send the seanchan to collar will be a mattock digging at their roots.” “a harsh decision,” reanne said sadly. she plucked at her skirts in an agitated manner, smoothed them, then plucked at them again. “perhaps you might consider thinking on it for a few days? surely it isn’t anything that has to be done immediately.” elayne gritted her

till twilight. plenty of work will be left tomorrow.” his left hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, relaxed, tightened. only that hand moved. her lips compressed. petulant? she smoothed her skirt furiously. she was not petulant! he seldom invoked his right to command in private—curse those sea folk for ever thinking of such a thing!—but when he did, the

the number of her charges, too. and she was much too lenient besides, accepting excuses where there could be none. she recovered quickly, however, falling in beside romanda, though she smoothed her dark gray skirts unnecessarily. “difficulties? of course not. sharina is the best-behaved novice in the book. truth to tell, most are well-behaved. the greatest number sent to my study

thing. he could not chance it, though. “you cannot trust any of the high blood, especially not a daughter of the empress, may she—” her mouth snapped shut, and she smoothed her dark blue skirts unnecessarily, grimacing at what she had almost said. he trusted her, literally with his life, but she had too many deep-buried instincts to risk putting her

included them, despite the fact both had visited him in secret more than once. they regarded him with aes sedai calm, though masuri’s slim hands moved once as if to smooth her brown skirts. she said she had changed her mind and now believed the man must be killed, so why was she meeting him? why was annoura? why did masema

a woman wants a little privacy,” sumeko replied calmly, as if yet another kinswoman had not just died from wanting privacy. her voice was calm, at least, but plump hands smoothed her dark blue skirts. “if you won’t put the fear of the light into them, sumeko, i will,” alise said, her usually mild face stern. she looked the elder of

dyelin said for about the fifth time since hearing of the safe conduct request. her face was cool and calm, yet she must have been feeling her nerves. her hands smoothed unnecessarily at her gold-embroidered skirts. “i won’t let her provoke me,” elayne replied. “neither will anyone else. i mean you, conail, and you, lir.” conail, in gold-worked blue, colored as

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The Gathering Storm - Robert Jordan.txt

a smile as she nodded to the two of them, then selected the largest and most comfortable-looking of the room’s chairs to sit in. she ran a finger along the smooth, dark wood, feeling the grain beneath the lacquer. demandred and mesaana regarded her coldly, and she knew them well enough to pick out hints of their surprise at seeing her.

the open manor window. he still thought of them that way, his “hands,” though he now had only one. his left arm ended in a stump. he could feel the smooth, saidar-healed skin with the fingers of his good hand. yet he felt as if his other hand should be there to touch. steel, he thought. i am steel. this cannot

in satisfaction. a small, dark-paneled room reflected behind her on the mirror’s silvery surface. such a stern place it was, a sturdy stool in the corner, the top darkened and smoothed from years and years of use. a blockish desk, set with the mistress of novices’ thick tome. the narrow table directly behind egwene had some carvings, but its leather padding

at the boundary between the saldaeans and the new aiel camp. soldiers carrying lances nodded to her in respect. aiel in brown and green glided across the grass, their motions smooth as water. women in blues and greens carried wash from the stream beside the manor house. broad-needled pines shivered in the wind. the camp bustled like the village green at

camp just outside of tar valon—hadn’t noticed the persistent clouds, but siuan had. no sailor would miss them. not dark enough to promise a storm, not light enough to imply smooth waters either. a sky like that was ambiguous. you could set out and never see a drop of rain or a hint of stormwinds. or, with barely a moment’s notice,

sons to recognize signs of trouble in a wagon. better to fix the problem before leaving than to be stranded halfway to the destination. perrin ran his fingers across the smooth, brown hickory. the grain was clearly visible, and he tested for cracks with questing fingers, searching each point of stress. all four wheels looked good. “my lord?” arganda asked. “we

even if she still didn’t know the reason. her lesser duty to her spear-sisters would have to wait for an appropriate time. her arms ached from carrying rocks. they were smooth and heavy; she had been required to dig them out of the river beside the manor house. only her time spent with elayne—when she had been forced to bathe in

hands. the maidens stood motionless and contemplative. aviendha moved to the other pile and picked up an oblong rock with a jagged edge. it was three handspans wide, and the smooth surface threatened to slip in her fingers. she had to shift it several times before getting a good purchase. she headed back across the trampled winter thatch, past saldaean tents,

woman’s gaze. “you have no real authority,” meidani said, voice wavering slightly. egwene did not look away. meidani studied her, brow wrinkling slowly, step by step, furrows appearing across her smooth, ageless aes sedai face. she searched egwene’s eyes, like a mason searching a piece of stone for flaws before setting it in place. what she found seemed to confuse her

caress, but gawyn moved into folding the air, carefully knocking aside the blow and waiting for another from sleete, who was the more dangerous of the two. sleete repositioned, taking smooth steps, his blade to the side as he set his back to the massive piles of hay at the rear of the stuffy barn. gawyn moved into cat on hot

gawyn was left thinking on the curious parting words. sleete was often an odd one to talk to. as fluid as he was as a swordsman, he didn’t make conversation smoothly. gawyn shook his head, leaving the barn and waving corbet free of watch duty. there was no possibility of gawyn agreeing to become hattori’s warder. the offer had been tempting

can’t change what you did to siuan, even if those with me did discover a method of healing her stilling. we can only move forward and try our best to smooth the scars. what are you doing, elaida? refusing talks, trying to bully the sitters into withdrawing? insulting ajahs that are not your own?” doesine, of the yellow, gave a quiet

week out of malden. the refugees had made camp—or, well, camps—near a waterway that led straight to the jehannah road, which was only a short distance away. things had gone smoothly these last few days, though perrin had judged the asha’man too tired still to make gateways. she had spent the evening with her husband, reminding him of several important reasons

it! burn me, but i do. i suppose you could run off and tell stories and travel like you used to. but things around here might run a lot less smoothly, and i sure would miss your wisdom. burn me, but i would. a man needs friends he can trust, and i’d trust you with my life any day.” “why matrim,”

salt goshien. ilyena therin moerelle, lews therin said, slipping the name in between two others. rand let it stand. at least the madman didn’t scream again. “lord dragon,” dobraine said smoothly, bowing to rand as he approached. “i deliver to you the city of bandar eban. order has been restored, as you commanded.” “i asked you to restore order to the

balefire to burn semirhage out of existence rather than allow himself to be captured again. he fingered the object he carried in a pouch on his saddle. it was a smooth figurine. he had not told cadsuane that his servants had recovered it from her room. now that cadsuane was exiled from his presence, he never would. he knew that she

to know his fate so that you can choose a new king. that is how it happens, correct?” “i’m certain you can be crowned quickly, my lord dragon,” she said smoothly. “i will not be king here,” rand said. “bring me the messenger, milisair, and perhaps you will live to see a new king crowned. you are dismissed.” she hesitated, then

it for too long. her eyes were red. she was still beautiful, but much in the way that a painting would still be beautiful if it were crumpled up, then smoothed out on a table. “may you find water and shade, rhuarc,” rand said in dismissal. “may you find water and shade, rand al’thor.” the tall aiel withdrew, some of his

room, an overweight man sleeping on a mattress on the floor, blankets in a heap around his feet. nynaeve wove a few threads of air, tying him up in one smooth motion. his eyes bulged open, and he opened his mouth to scream, but nynaeve stuffed air between his lips, gagging him. she turned to triben and nodded, tying off her

egwene forced herself to be calm. siuan was right. better to take the advice, particularly when it was good advice, than to complain. “you are right, of course,” egwene said, smoothing out her dress across her knees as she also smoothed the frustration from her face. “tell me more of gawyn’s arrival.” “i don’t know much more,” siuan confessed. “i really

to take the advice, particularly when it was good advice, than to complain. “you are right, of course,” egwene said, smoothing out her dress across her knees as she also smoothed the frustration from her face. “tell me more of gawyn’s arrival.” “i don’t know much more,” siuan confessed. “i really should have mentioned it yesterday, but our meeting was cut

curling toward the sky. that was odd. fire was usually too fleeting to reflect in tel’aran’rhiod. there were no actual flames, despite the smoke and the orange glow warming the smooth riverstones that ringed the pit. she glanced upward, toward the too-dark, stormy sky. that silent storm was another irregularity for the world of dreams, though it had become so common

handed them to egwene. hesitantly she took them, the larger volume heavy in her right hand, the blue book light in her left hand. she ran a finger over the smooth leather, frowning. she looked up at verin. “every woman in the brown,” verin said, “seeks to produce something lasting. research or study that will be meaningful. others often accuse us

a stingy employer on payday. if the others had known the importance of siuan’s work, perhaps they wouldn’t have decided to work against her. egwene ran her fingers along the smooth, tightly woven pouch she wore tied to her belt. inside was a long, thin item, retrieved secretly from the white tower earlier in the morning. had she fallen into the

sitters had been chosen, their replacements in the tower intended to serve only a short time. the ajah heads had been certain this ripple of a rebellion could be easily smoothed over. they hadn’t taken it seriously enough. that had been their first mistake. the second was more dire. there were indeed times in the past where the ajah heads—not the

against him softly as they waited, and he replaced his hand on her shoulder. soft, not forceful. willing to wait. he did understand her. egwene stood before a group of smooth faces that were far too good at hiding their anxiety. by custom, she had ordered kwamesa to weave the ward against eavesdropping, as the sharp-nosed gray was the youngest among

said that there were important revelations to make,” varilin added. “is this regarding the seanchan attack?” egwene reached to the pouch on her skirt and pulled its contents free. a smooth white rod with the numeral three inscribed on it in the script of the age of legends, near the base. there were several gasps. egwene wove spirit into the rod,

harness hooked to their ox, and they hadn’t loosened the stump in the earth by digging about it. those lengths of wood lying in the grass were too stout and smoothly worked to be the shafts of tools. quarterstaffs. it was almost an amusing display—considering the fact that rand had two hundred aiel with him—but it said something. these men expected

now she wasn’t so certain. she took a deep breath, then hastened to the keep. she passed defenders in their immaculate uniforms, the upper arm portions ribbed and puffy, breastplates smooth and curved. she passed stableboys, each probably dreaming of one day wearing that same uniform, but for now only leading horses back to the stables for hay and currying. she

to discount such tales as superstitious nonsense, but the day before, she’d woken to discover that her room had indeed suddenly and mysteriously moved. her door had opened to a smooth wall of the same seamless rock as the stone itself. she’d been forced to escape through a gateway, and had been shocked to learn that her window looked out from

would all turn out to be a ruse or a mistake. that fear was gone. as the ritual questions were asked—as egwene stepped forward three steps and knelt on the smooth floor, repainted by elaida’s order with only six colors spiraling out of the mark of the flame of tar valon—egwene saw through the pomp and looked at the core of

same time. choosing someone they wouldn’t mind seeing fall. taking a risk, but not putting themselves in direct danger. these women were doing the same. they covered their fear with smooth faces and acts of control. when the time came for the sitters to stand in her support, egwene was not surprised that all eleven rose to their feet. not a

you failed. but you are all that we have. we are all that the world has.” the women began to look up. “come,” egwene said, striding through the room, silviana smoothly falling into step beside her. “let us greet the rebels.” they passed through the hallways of the tower, which still smelled of smoke and were strewn with rubble in places.

defenders. the corridors twisted and turned. the walls—where unadorned by tapestry—were the color of wet sand, but they were far stronger than any rock rand knew, alien and strange; each smooth span a reminder that this place was not natural. rand felt the same way. he had the form of a human. indeed, he had the mannerisms and history of one.

finally become what i must be! he stopped in the corridor, teeth gritted. in his deep coat pocket, he carried the access key. he fingered it, its contours cold and smooth. he didn’t dare leave it to the care of a servant, no matter how trusted. hurin, he realized. that’s what is bothering me. seeing hurin. he resumed walking, straightening his

for the world before having my strings cut.” tam frowned. “that’s not true, son. er, my lord.” “i can’t see it any other way.” tam crossed his arms on the smooth stone railing. “i guess i can understand. i remember some of those emotions myself, during the days when i was a soldier. you know that i fought against tear? you’d

the rug beside the hearth, a bench along 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

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said that there were important revelations to make,” varilin added. “is this regarding the seanchan attack?” egwene reached to the pouch on her skirt and pulled its contents free. a smooth white rod with the numeral three inscribed on it in the script of the age of legends, near the base. there were several gasps. egwene wove spirit into the rod,

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Towers of Midnight - Robert Jordan.txt

this was the way to run. powerful. energetic. he loped over fallen logs, his jumps taking him so high that his hair brushed the bottoms of the branches. he landed smoothly. the forest was his. it belonged to him, and he understood it. his worries began to melt away. he allowed himself to accept things as they were, not as what

punished, but i don’t see reason to praise you either. yes, al’thor may be hurt, but you still bungled your plan, costing us a useful tool.” “of course,” graendal said smoothly, “i will serve as it pleases the great lord. i was not going to suggest that i move against al’thor anyway. he thinks me dead, and so best to let

lamenting melody. who was thom sorrowing for? the crowd watched. caemlyn was one of the greatest cities in the world, but still the variety seemed incredible. crusty illianers sat beside smooth domani, crafty cairhienin, stout tairens and a sprinkling of borderlanders. caemlyn was seen as one of the few places where one could be safe from both the seanchan and the

bair’s was wrinkled with age, like leather left to cure in the sun. for all her occasional sternness, smile lines wove from her eyes and mouth. amys’ face was silky smooth, an effect of being able to channel. her face was not ageless, but she could have been aes sedai for the emotion she showed. the two had their shawls at

her hair woven into its characteristic braid. egwene felt a surge of relief. finally! it had been months since she’d seen nynaeve. cursing inside for letting herself be surprised, she smoothed her face and embraced the source, weaving spirit. a few inverted wards might help keep her from being startled again. elayne was supposed to arrive a little later. “i didn’t

killings all along. a member of the black, hiding among them. light, but thinking of it made elayne’s skin crawl! “your majesty,” alise said, curtsying. she spoke with a calm, smooth voice and a faint taraboner accent. “your majesty,” sumeko said as well, mimicking her companion’s curtsy. the two were deferential—more so to elayne than they were to other aes sedai

pass this test. she’d mastered the hundred weaves. she didn’t need to worry. except, some women never returned from the test. these cellars had a grand beauty to them. the smooth stone floor was leveled carefully. lamps burned high on the walls; likely, those had required a sister or accepted to light them with the one power. few people came down

continued. “some say it’s haunted,” thom said, taking a slurp from his mug. “others say it’s a relic from the age of legends. the sides are said to be of smooth steel, without an opening. i did find a captain’s widow’s younger son who once heard a story of someone who found great treasures in the tower. he didn’t say how

him otherwise. there was an axe. not the deadly half-moon blade he had once carried to battle, but a sturdy woodsman’s axe with a fine steel head and a haft smoothed by the sweaty hands of workers. perrin rolled up his sleeves, then spat on his hands and picked up the axe. it felt good to hold the worked wood in

so brightly. faile might be able to make use of that. she looked down. perrin was already snoring softly. perrin found himself sitting with his back against something hard and smooth. the too-dark, almost evil sky of the wolf dream boiled above the forest, which was a mixture of fir, oak and leatherleaf. he stood up, then turned and looked at

to keep an eye on the woman. they reached gawyn, and the sul’dam—incredibly—got down on her knees and prostrated herself on the ground, head touching the dirt. there was a smooth elegance to the bowing; for some reason, it made gawyn feel as if he were being mocked. “lord trakand,” dimana said, “this is kaisea. or, at least, that’s what she

his army emerging from the gateways positioned behind. jori congar held a shielded lantern for perrin. it gave the area a very faint light. “of course, my lord,” berelain said smoothly. “i’ll have your oaths on it, then,” perrin said, eyes still forward. “you and alliandre, berelain. faile, i’ll simply ask and hope.” “you have my oath, my lord,” alliandre said.

out of the forest of glass pillars. she took a deep breath, then glanced back at the path she had taken. the central plaza of rhuidean was an awe-inspiring sight. smooth white flagstones carpeted the entire square save for the absolute center. there stood an enormous tree, branches spread wide like arms reaching to embrace the sun. the massive tree had

than she’d expected. its crystalline length caught and played with the lamplight. it seemed to shimmer too much, the light inside changing even when she didn’t move. the crystal was smooth, but warm. it almost felt alive. rand stood in front of her, looking down at the weapon. they were in their rooms inside the stone of tear, accompanied by cadsuane,

you must give me warning if you wish to pass outside.” “you mean to keep comings and goings that tight?” pevara asked. “the world becomes a dangerous place,” taim said smoothly. “i must think of the needs of my men.” pevara had noticed how he saw to the “needs” of his men. a group of young soldiers passed by, saluting taim.

felt too still here, quiet save for the footsteps of the three. noal walked with a long staff, taller than he was. where had he gotten it? it had that smooth, oiled look of wood that had spent more years as a walking staff than it originally had as a tree. noal had also put on a dark blue—nearly black—pair of

bargain this way,” mat said, trying to keep the nervousness from his voice. “we can bloody bring what we want.” “having no bargain is dangerous,” the eelfinn said in a smooth voice. “for you. fortunately, i can take you where you desire.” “well, then,” mat said. “do it.” “leave your iron,” the eelfinn said. “your implements of music. your fire.” “never,”

time, she couldn’t let them assume that she’d be blown over by a few good shouts. such a delicate balance. “well, let’s go meet your sister, then.” gawyn rose, moving smoothly. the three rings he wore on a chain around his neck rattled as he moved; she’d have to ask him again where he’d gotten those. he had been oddly closemouthed

like a hundred leeches sucking blood from his veins. he pressed onward. he couldn’t distinguish the direction of the cries, so he moved along the walls; they felt like bone, smooth but occasionally cracked. the room was round. as if he stood inside the bowl of an enormous skull. there! a faint light ahead, a single candle on the ground, illuminating

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A Memory of Light - Robert Jordan.txt

kinds of stone. the old man had felt betrayed when bayrd’s father had gone off and become a butcher in the city, instead of keeping to the family trade. soft, smooth slate. bumpy, ridged granite. yes, some things in the world were still solid. some few things. these days, you couldn’t rely on much. once immovable lords were now soft as

man will give you, or any member of your houses, shelter or succor for ten generations!” bayrd looked back at the stone in his hand. only one step left, the smoothing. a good spearhead needed some smoothing to be dangerous. he brought out another piece of granite he’d picked up for the purpose and carefully began scraping it along the side

member of your houses, shelter or succor for ten generations!” bayrd looked back at the stone in his hand. only one step left, the smoothing. a good spearhead needed some smoothing to be dangerous. he brought out another piece of granite he’d picked up for the purpose and carefully began scraping it along the side of the slate. seems i remember

the one none of them spoke of. the one that they all knew was behind it, no matter what lord jarid said. bayrd stood up. he’d want to do more smoothing later, but the spearhead actually looked good. he raised his wooden spear haft—the metal blade had fallen free when evil had struck the camp—and lashed the new spearhead in place,

said. “that do be our mistake, then. could you point us to where they do be making camp? it do be a matter of some urgency, you see.” he spoke smoothly, easily. bayle could be quite charming, when necessary. much more so than leilwin could. “that depends,” the warder said. “your companion, she wishes to find these aes sedai, too?” “she

a goat,” talmanes screamed, attacking time and time again. blacksmith strikes the blade. such an inelegant form. it fit his mood perfectly. the myrddraal stumbled. talmanes swept back in a smooth motion, bringing his sword to the side and slicing the thing’s pale white arm free at the elbow. the limb twisted in the air, the fade’s blade dropping from spasming

a doorway and moved his globe of light in, then waved the others to follow. no, she sent back, trying to practice this method of communicating, to make her thoughts smoother. is something a woman picks up after her first century of life. he sent back tense amusement. they passed into a series of unfinished rooms, none of them roofed, before

the stove. eventually, things were going to start exploding. egwene needed to manage the chaos. she strode out of her tent, gawyn a step behind and to her left, and smoothed her face. the world needed an amyrlin. silviana waited outside, dressed formally with stole and staff, as if she were going to a meeting of the hall of the tower.

be one. but when tenobia complained about saldaea being left exposed, you were the one who diverted her back to what matters. tensions are high, but you kept us together, smoothed over bad feelings, prevented us from snapping at one another. good work, your majesty. very good work.” she grinned. light, but it was hard not to positively beam at his

own lives. my shadow will be long enough as it is. very well.” he looked up to meet her eyes, and he found her smiling with fondness. she rested a smooth hand on his cheek. “you will be a fine father.” “elayne—” “not a word of it,” she said, raising a finger. “no talk of death, of duty. we cannot ignore

into the cavern. as he passed into darkness, he wove a globe of white-blue light and hung it beside his head. the glow reflected from the wet stone, shining on smooth knobs and clefts. panting echoed from deep within the cavern. it was followed by gasps. and . . . splashes. rand walked forward, though by now he had guessed what

as if he’d reached for a heavy piece of oak and found it as light as pine. the landscape seemed less real than it usually did. the raging winds actually smoothed out hills, like erosion at high speed. in other places, the land swelled up, forming ripples of rock and new hillsides. chunks of earth sprayed into the air, shattering. the

but he could never do this. no more than a man missing one foot could dance. tam completed hare finds its hole, sliding the weapon into its sheath in one smooth motion. orange lantern light reflected off of the blade as it slipped into its cover. “beautiful,” tam said. “light, the weight, the construction ... is it power-forged?” “i don’t know,”

by a pair of lanterns that gave off a strange, steady blue glow. something burned within them, but it was not a regular flame. the light shone on her soft, smooth skin, which was the shade of good earth. she wore a pale a’solma, a gown that was split at the sides, showing blue leggings underneath. tuon had a slight frame;

look like anything. the rings were of some heavy black stone he did not recognize. the outside was carved like thorns, though the inside surface—the side that touched the skin—was smooth. fie turned the ring over in his fingers. he knew that he should go to egwene with it. he also knew how the white tower treated ter’angreal. they locked the

you have a gift for me as well?” “i am giving them to those i care about.” that actually made her smile more deeply. “our interactions have not always been smooth, rand al’thor.” “that would be one way to say it.” “however,” she continued, eyeing him, “i will have you know that i am pleased. you have turned out well.” “so

strangely in the dream, the buildings weathered as if by a hundred years of storms. the city walls were now little more than ten feet high, their tops rounded and smooth, blown by the wind. buildings inside had worn away, leaving foundations and lumps of weathered stone. chilled by the sight, egwene turned toward the stone. it, at least, stood as

not something she had wished to ignore. “hes here,” gawyn said quietly, glancing at the door to her study. “then let us meet him,” egwene said. she prepared herself, rising, smoothing her skirt. she nodded to gawyn, and they stepped out and went to meet the dragon reborn. rand smiled when he saw her. he waited inside with two maidens she

like bulbs at the end and the axe heads were narrow and thin, almost like picks. the hafts of all of their weapons—from polearms to swords—had a flowing, organic design. smooth and not of a uniform width, made of some dark red wood that had been painted with colorful dots down the sides. egwene took in all of this in moments,

was a surprise, sometimes, when that happened; on a battlefield, you expected to have to rebuild your tactics from the ground up at every turn—but for once, everything had gone smoothly. aes sedai were pounding the sharans from the hilltops south of the ford, augmented by a steady stream of projectiles from archers stationed just below them on the slopes. because

to help her dismount—light, but she was starting to feel unwieldy. it was as if she were a ship in dry dock. she took a moment to properly compose herself. smooth features, emotions in control. she picked at her hair, straightened her dress, then walked into the building. “what,” she bellowed as she stepped in, “in the name of a bloody,

mat complained. “bloody ashes. somebody check on the archers, i—” “great prince!” a seanchan messenger said, skidding through the doorway. he went to his knees, then prostrated himself with a smooth motion, never stopping his narrative. “archer bank is down! hit by sharan outriders— they masked their attack by smoke from fireballs.” “blood and bloody ashes!” mat said. “send sixteen damane

not murdered?” demandred said. “has your sister never killed to keep, dare i say seize, her throne?” “that’s different.” “so everyone always says.” demandred stepped forward. his sword forms were smooth, his back always straight but relaxed, and he used the broad, sweeping movements of a dancer. he had absolute mastery of his sword; gawyn had not heard that demandred was

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not something she had wished to ignore. “hes here,” gawyn said quietly, glancing at the door to her study. “then let us meet him,” egwene said. she prepared herself, rising, smoothing her skirt. she nodded to gawyn, and they stepped out and went to meet the dragon reborn. rand smiled when he saw her. he waited inside with two maidens she

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