thirty-six years ago, it must be, now. Egwene found herself staring at the most handsome man she had ever seen. He frowned at Elayne. No one ever knows with the Aiel.
Except for keeping her balance, the movements of the ship did not bother her the way they did Nynaeve; she had given up offering Nynaeve food after the third time the Wisdom threw the bowl at her. One who looks intelligent enough to tell what he has seen without embroidery, but young enough not to have yet grown a full backbone. You are Liandrin. He gave one tufted ear a puzzled scratch.
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