Already he can do things you Aes Sedai never dreamed of. It felt a mask, somebody else's face. The Stone of Tear, Birgitte said, and Nynaeve's head whipped around. He hung on to Omerna with the man supporting him, the pair of them eye to eye.
It was an uncomfortable feeling. Too bad it was not a hand, for the Band, but appropriate enough. It's in a dusty old storeroom somewhere in the Rahad, and I think your guild, your Circle, must know where. Neither of you is setting foot on the other side of the river without four or five of my Red-arms each.
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