Her gaze stayed on Rand no longer than on any other. It was moth-eaten, and ragged around the bottom, but lined with thick fleece, and the wind was picking up, cold and out of the west. The huge ball seemed to glow white with the light of the sinking sun. The city had a thousand gardens, but she preferred this wild garden on the hilltop.
She waited until Mat and the others had turned up the stairs before speaking. The man who called himself Bors shifted uneasily, and saw others doing the same. Fain has been here weeks before us, perhaps months. Forever! All you must do in return is serve.
Join the newsletter to receive news, updates, new products and freebies in your inbox.