Looking at the inn, her smile faded. Hurin following the trail of where the Darkfriends would be. What she gestured to was a tall, thick slab of what seemed to be stone, standing on edge, one side carved intricately in vines and leaves. Nynaeve told herself that she would take a turn riding behind and not complain if Elayne put the horse to a gallop, but for the most part she ignored the gasps of the woman bouncing behind her.
Some sat behind slanted tables, checking large ledgers and sometimes making an entry. Once we find Fain and the Darkfriends, why, we'll go home heroes, with the dagger for Mat, and the Horn of Valere. It came from Lord Agelmar? Of course, my Lord. Fear not, for the Day of your Master's rising upon the world is near at hand.
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