Lelaine sounded almost regretful, most likely because she was agreeing with Romanda. Remarkable, she muttered. Large eyes met Egwene's perhaps more directly than a novice's should have. Perrin hoped she would not produce one of those knives she kept hidden about her; she had a habit of doing that when she became angry enough.
Just the way she spoke was a reminder, a marked warning not to go against her, equal or not. Night air is bad air. Dead silence met her speech, until Dorile din Eiran said carefully, This ter'angreal, Aes Sedai. Slowly she turned them over one by one, returned them to the box slowly.
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