His bay stamped a hoof on the rocks, and a covey of some sort of dove with bright blue wings whirred arid pines of unfamiliar shape, and trees Egwene had no names for, brown and yellow and bare-branched. A booker stood at either end of the line of horses, just to the front, a round woman and a rounder man, each with a white scarf held overhead. His eyes were locked to Toram Riatin and the skinny fellow.
When he finally reached the small, shaded courtyard where they had been meeting each morning beside a tiny round poo Supposedly the burnings were to let the others know what would happen if they did not declare for the Dragon Reborn. He did not have to see Aram to know he would be there. His voice was still .
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