Still glowing, Egwene spun to stare up the street, and the thunderous roar was repeated. Logain always made her think of Rand. He said nothing, but the other Seanchan snapped quick orders, and in moments men in plain woolen robes appeared through a door behind the screens bearing another small table. Well, they were tall enough to warrant the name, once.
She reached up to touch the finely wrought patterns on the chest, ran her hands across them, pressed. This should take care of . Mistress Madwen's glance flickered to Rand's sword; the bronze herons were plain on scabbard and hilt. She could not help it.
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