Four or five days would be better, Sheriam mused, studying the sheaf of papers in her lap. And loathed himself worse because he wanted to do it again. The flows around the innkeeper vanished, and the glow around Nynaeve too, but Nynaeve stood there watching the woman warily, hopefully. Popping a last bit of the bun into her mouth and washing it down with a final swallow of tea, she rose to go find her, only to have the object of her intended search stalk into the tent.
Best be wary, she murmured. Mat tugged at his coat uncomfortably. Min saw her first living soul besides them, and wished she had not. How? A servant at the Tarasin Palace told me you'd gone to the river, and a fellow at the landing said what boat you had taken.
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