This is Master Mat Cauthon, my son. Colavaere hated Rand, and by extension anyone close to Rand. Below her are the Sailmistresses, the ships' captains of the clan. Lan kept so close to her side, he might have been-glued there.
He would make no wager; he seemed to save every copper that came into his hands. You'll tickle your seamstress under the chin yet. No ladder was lowered, but instead a flat piece of wood, the two ropes it hung from becoming one and running up to a thick pole swung out over the side from one of the masts. But what in the Light was he to do? If the Aiel and the Cairhienin and Mayeners turned on one another, or worse, the Asha'man and the Wise Ones.
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