She had an open inkpot on the floor beside her, and a small pile of flowers on her lap. The rooms. The pounding came again. At least the air was warm and dry.
She called it a little lesson. Are you still eager? Fain managed a tremble in his knees. Who do they think we are? An answer came to Rand, but he shoved it away before it had a chance to form completely. Perhaps not the stories they expect, Moiraine said.
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