Mother, I know you must have a hard time believing us, since we've never held the Oath Rod, but— I wish you would stop bringing that up, Egwene said. But it hardly matters. Blood and ashes, he was starting to sound like some gray-hair resting his aching joints in front of the fireplace. One sentence, you're an Eharoni High Prince and the next a First Lord of Manetheren, accent and idiom perfect.
The Wise Ones, and then Faolain and Theodrin. Not about the Aes Sedai at The Silver Swan—Taim certainly knew already; why had he not mentioned it?—about staying away from them, keeping the Asha'man away. Once he had danced with an Aes Sedai, and nearly swallowed his tongue when he realized who he swung about. Now, that calls for a good wine: Or it would if it wasn't hot enough to make a man's blood thick as porridge.
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