Flies crawled all over the table. Men, Egwene muttered. A slender, dark-haired girl in gray sat at a small table with her head resting on folded arms, but even before she looked up, Nynaeve knew it was Egwene. Gawyn, Egwene knows Rand al'Thor.
The talk was soft, but Domon caught mentions of the Hunt, and of the false Dragon the Murandians had taken, and of the one the Tarens were chasing through Haddon Mirk. Not even after he's gone mad? There had to be some way to stop that, some way to change it; Aes Sedai knew so much, could do so much. That will keep us two or three weeks, but I don't know what we will do after that. She nodded toward the fat man.
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