Egwene and Bela surged toward their own dull reflections; two shaggy horses touched noses, appeared to flow into each other. Those farm folk needed someone on their side. The things she did with the stone were simple and small, if occasionally useful; the kind a child would imagine. Liandrin made her voice pleasant, with only a hint of the mocking she felt.
The woman laughed musically, but the next instant she was all regal formality, like a queen on her throne. A smiling, bald-headed man in rough clothes laid a slice of meat on a plate held by a woman with a worn face. I hope I find some clothes before I find people, she muttered. How many have seen that? he demanded.
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