Moiraine answered it. Women linked, neck to wrist, by silver leashes. Wait! Wait! You can make more than any five crowns, or even ten. It was only a few pages.
The man stayed bent as he was till Egeanin was ten paces up the street, then he straightened and hurried the other way, leaping down the sloping street. Each had an inkpot in a writing-case hung at her belt and was making notes in a small book with a pen. She glanced at the lantern hanging at the highest point of the tent, and the flame rose a little higher. Those who survive the Seekers for Truth meet the axe of the headsman.
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