Rhiale frowned at the rod at Sevanna's waist, and her eyes rose slowly, coldly, to Sevanna's face. Removing his helmet, he set it on the pommel of his saddle. A Maiden came skittering down the slope from above, hurriedly lowering her veil, and actually breathing hard. Refugees filled the city, and merchants and traders of every sort.
Among themselves, they sometimes use the ancient name Friends of the Dark. All of them. Only one Tower law specifically limited the power of the Amyrlin Seat. Cramped into a corner on a stool sat a one-eyed fellow who might have had trouble standing upright inside the cubicle, with a long cudgel studded with nail heads propped between his massive knees.
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