Some of the sisters may know you are ta'veren, but no more. If he is watched and guided, we should be able to keep some record with reasonable safety, for a time, at least. Rand was just a soldier, once a shepherd from a small village so far toward the western border that only lines on a map any longer truly connected it to Andor. He could see it in his mind, floating beyond the void, glittering golden, chased with silver, in the glow of saidin.
Even you, and even me. Despite himself, Rand slowed. There was more than an air of neglect about it, whitewash faded, a shutter hanging loose, the rotted end of a rafter showing at a gap in the roof tiles. Mat, you know you have to go to Tar Valon with Moiraine.
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