He looked back down the street. He reached for it - he was not sure how he reached, but it was something, a movement, a stretching toward the light, toward saidin-and caught nothing, as if running his hands through water. Al'Lan Mandragoran. It is, my Lord Rand.
None of them seemed to take his announcement as odd, though. Opening his coat, she pulled up his shirt. There were more important matters. Just a flower.
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