The back halls, where the servants lived in small apartments; were stirring like a kicked antheap as men and women scurried to don their best livery. The Shienarans were unloading the pack animals, some already handing out a cold supper of dried meat and flatbread. Tomorrow! Ingtar exploded. Dedicated to the defeat of the Dark One.
Servants in black-and-gold darted about their tasks, running to prepare rooms or carry orders to the kitche The fire's there again, Lord Rand, and bigger than ever. His warhorse pranced, and he looked around, frowning. touched stone, hot from a pitiless sun, cold from a merciless night .
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