He has a letter supposedly from her. A man who could be bought. Little taller than Enaila, he had his short blue coat undone, and sweat glistened on his dark face. He flinched slightly, like a nervous horse, but his hard face never turned from Egwene.
If you mean what the wetlanders do, she went on, who has time to watch sandflies? Unless they bite. Perhaps Verin could learn something. So few I can trust, he whispered tiredly. Settling the hat squarely back on his head, he marched down the landing, brushed past the Wise Women and caught up to Elayne.
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