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624 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published October 15, 1991
“Should and would build no bridges.”
“She jerked her braid so hard it hurt.”
“No questions, remember? And my name is Perrin, Zarine. Not ‘big man,’ or ‘blacksmith,’ or anything else. Perrin. Perrin Aybara.”
“And mine is Faile, shaggy-hair.”
With something close to a snarl, he booted Stepper after the others. Zarine had to throw her arms around his waist to keep from being tossed over the dun’s crupper. He thought she was laughing.
“During his lifetime, Jearom fought over ten thousand times, in battle and single combat. He was defeated once. By a farmer with a quarterstaff! Remember that. Remember what you just saw.”
He lowered his eyes to Galad, and lowered his voice as well. “If you cannot get up by now, lad, it is finished.”
As if he had all the time in the world, Gaul calmly lifted a dark cloth from his shoulders and wrapped it around his head, finishing with a thick black veil that hid his face except for his eyes.
“Do you like to dance, Perrin Aybara?” he asked.
With that, he darted away from the cage. Straight at the oncoming Whitecloaks.
"Always plan for the worst, child, that way all your surprises are pleasant ones."