The whole truth. Alanna followed Rand with her eyes. He slid around Nalesean's thrust as though there was not a bone in his body, right hand shooting out to seize Nalesean's throat. Oh, Light, she had to think! Her belly was clenched in a knot.
Myrelle's tiny wince was followed by a resigned twist of her mouth. Three stories of white plaster, the house belonged to a goldsmith who supposedly was being visited by two friends she had met on a journey north some years ago. Myrelle left the tent first, then a man in just boots and breeches who had to duck low through the doorflaps, a bared sword in his hand and scars crisscrossing his lightly furred chest. Amys would go, and she wanted her company more than learning.
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