Galad has not the smallest part of humanity in him. The Daughter of the Night remains as much a mystery as if she truly had cloaked herself in darkness. Egwene's room held only a hard, narrow bed, a washstand with a chipped pitcher and bowl, one chair and a small table, but it had no room for more. The Trollocs took them for food.
Even the simplest thing takes a little time. Speak slowly, man, the blue-eyed woman demanded in her slurred speech. Every day from mightier Houses. She took the stairs as if she were certain anyway, and the others followed.
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