Lelaine knew that, and Romanda. For a moment it hung hi the air as if she intended to strike her companion. Scores of boats of every size swept along on their oars between larger vessels, anchored or under sail. Sometimes leading meant herding.
She watched faces grow dogged and defensive and apologetic, and wondered whether her own looked the same. On the fourth morning, he woke groggily from a dream of the White Tower, flinging up a hand to shield grainy eyes from what he thought was a flare of saidar-wrought fire. Are you all right? she asked, pulling him to his feet. There's a lot more to it than feather dancers wore, but not enough to it to slow me down, and anyway, I cannot see we'll have to move quickly on this side of the river.
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