In his left hand he gripped a round hide buckler and three short spears, no more than half as long as he was tall, with points fully as long as those of the Shienaran lances. Alviarin was as cool and businesslike as a merchant come to buy wool and tabac, surprised that Nynaeve was part of the lesson but accepting, sharp in her criticisms but always ready to try again. At that distance Rand could not make out the huge, square banner whipping in the wind behind them. And over all rose one tower, higher and wider than all the rest, as white as the Shining Walls themselves.
The old thatcher was as gnarled as an oak root, and the look he gave her was just as friendly. She popped the cheese into her mouth with a smile. It might fit you, Nynaeve. His knees almost touched the floor; he could have stood anytime he wanted to.
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