Ronde Macura's nasty little infusion was something to make any sister uncomfortable. Enid, Mistress Anan addressed the round woman, I am going out for a little while. Alviarin worked moisture back into her mouth. Wood smoke; she smelled a faint touch of wood smoke.
And Nicola! In my day, a novice would have wet herself if she even thought of blackmailing a sister! Not their first attempt, Egwene told her, relating the facts in as few words as possible. Drawing a deep breath, Egwene folded her hands at her waist. Alviarin would not believe if she was told. The Gray must be passing along rumors, now.
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