From his pocket the Warder produced a long length of wide, fringed golden cord and tied it around Rand's left arm in a complicated knot. Shouting men and women filled the windows, staring and pointing. He shook his head. The Ogier looked stunned, his eyes as big as plates; the sniffer was squatting with one hand on the ground, as if unsure he could support himself else.
They crossed. His land was destroyed while he was a child, and he would not claim a crown, but he was a king, for that. Did it really happen? Am I going mad already? Do I run, or do I stay? I have to stay. You know, I think this stone was worked once.
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