toted sacks from barn to wagon past a slump-shouldered farmer and his family, a sullen lot in dark rough woolens. The interview was coming to a close—they never lasted longer than for Alviarin to report and be given her own orders—but she had a question yet to ask. Thank you. The Green sister's head jerked around.
You listen to me, you wooden-headed numbskull. I'll keep her in hand, Nynaeve had the gall to say, all the while frowning and grimacing at Elayne as if she were the one who had gone mad. Elaida clenched her fist as though she held all the rebels by . Before anyone could say anything, though, a round graying woman in House Mitsobar livery was curtsying, first to Elayne, then to the women wearing red belts, and finally to him.
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