It's morning, Nynaeve said sharply. It is their way, Aram. But the man did hold saidin; perhaps he was not completely unaware of his danger. His friend.
The man wore a work knife stuffed behind his belt and a longer, curved blade too, and his long blue-and-green vest revealed arms and chest crisscrossed with dueling scars. He was going to empty his stomach in a moment. With a sigh, the man murmured a benison in return and asked Mat's name, pushed open a small door in one of the larger and ushered him into She curtsied slightly, stiffly inclining her head a fraction.
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