Instead, elbow on his knee and chin propped on his hand, he was frowning at the Aes Sedai prisoners. Reports on everything from the number of candles and sacks of beans remaining in the camp to the state of the horses, and the same for Lord Bryne's army. That was how Aiel women sat with friends, in their tents beneath a hot sun. His fingers brushed paper.
How could he sleep in this room, with all its black, heavy furniture? A part of her thought absently about moving everything out, replacing it Lord Dob-raine, I've kept the Sea Folk waiting long enough, I think. Consider yourself chastised. If you being ta'veren always affected everything, you'd have every ruler kneeling at your feet by now, and the Whitecloaks, too.
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