The corridors of the White Tower were sparsely populated where once they had been crowded, and what could once be done easily with the One Power could now be done only with difficulty, or not at all. From his pocket the Warder produced a long length of wide, fringed golden cord and tied it around Rand's left arm in a complicated knot. A thousand strings laid over a thousand years have drawn you here. This court of Seandar sounded a place where his plans and skills would find fertile soil.
He set the Horn back in the chest; it cast back the moonlight, pulled the eye. Been gone long enough. We have lost more than enough time already. If they've had word from Stedding Shangtai .
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