mes here? Who comes here? Who comes here? The woman beside the palanquin tapped her staff three times in reply. The Amyrlin's eyes bored at him. Verin blinked at her, almost as if wondering where she had come from. Named Pedra, she was a short, wiry woman, a little older than Nynaeve, and with a briskness always in her voice.
Burn me, Mat breathed. He laughed again; Rand put a hand in front of his face against the heat of that fiery mouth. His voice was an urgent whisper. His steps slowed until he came to a halt.
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