Are you implying that this show has a lot of buzz? It does not. There may be a subset that watches it when they need streaming content to burn but the show is not driving traffic. There are a handful of media articles. There was a lot of bot-driven social media posts when season 2 dropped; however, there is not a sustained WoT stream of social media traffic. I looked for information about increased book sales. I saw one article that said "The Wheel of Time (Finally) crosses 100 million sales." That is not a ringing endorsement of millions of new fans chasing the series. There was a spike in interest leading up to the show and then Sanderson broke the internet via Kickstarter. Let's also look as merchandise. I cannot even find decent WoT merchandise since Amazon took over. You sure cannot find it on Amazon. If the show was doing well, then you would see a lot of merchandise. There is less now than when we still had Ta'Veren Tees. WoT (TV) is not even serving the existing fanbase and it is certainly not driving the creation of a new fanbase. I would argue that the show is highly derivative of existing "modern" tropes in TV. It is fairly lazy writing and design by committee to make sure it meets certain goals and to be as inoffensive to the social media mob as possible. I wish we'd see a rabid new fanbase. I do not see one happening and it looks more like Star Wars and DC. An aging fanbase, divided, and slowly dying off.

.. Mirror Mirror, on the Wall .. ►▼◄ Mirror Mirror, on the Wall Will you Rise or Will You Fall Your Reflection Bright as Light In the Glass, is Life and Might She whispered the words she had found in the book, that ancient leather book with runes on the front, reaching into the mirror glass, feeling something beyond. It felt like liquid water just thicker, denser - and alive. Her blue eyes widened in excitement, the thrill of the moment running through her entire body. But then It all changed. Something in the mirror was pulling at her hand! She gasped! ..and tried to withdraw her hand but was unable. She tried to stay calm, to not panic, but her pulse was rising and her heart beat faster. She tried to pull back her hand again but it was stuck in the mirror. A tear of frustration ran down her cheek as she bit her lip. Come on! Come on! The words ran through her mind as she pulled and pulled but to no avail. She suddenly felt a great pain in her hand! It felt like claws ripping into it - claws and razor-sharp teeth! She screamed but it was a scream that no one heard. “Heeelp me!!” She cried in desperation, frantic with worry. “Pleaaase!!” Something was biting into her fingers in the mirror, the skin of her fingertips being ripped open, and she screamed as pain shot through her arm like needles. Her screams increased as she felt her arm and then her entire body being slowly pulled into the glass of the mirror “NOOOOOOO!!!” A moment of pure terror as her face was drawn into the glass, a final horrifying piercing shriek - and then she blacked out! ● Keyraa Erem Sani ne Paendrag, the Daughter of the Nine Moons and heir to the Seanchan Empire, gazed into the far distance as the Seanchan warship danced on the waves of the Aryth Ocean. Her eyes, dark brown and green the colour of emerald, glinted in the late afternoon sun, but her mind was elsewhere. She was back in Seandar, the Imperial Seanchan Capital, on that fateful afternoon six months earlier when it had happened… Seated in her resplendent divan in her large private chamber in the Palace of the Empress, she had had several so'jhin, personal upper caste slaves, attending her. One had been polishing the heir’s lacquered nails while the other had been fanning her with a large feathery rod of a sort, ensuring the future Empress of Seanchan was comfortable. They had been pretty, young women with half-shaven heads, as befitted their station, their remaining hair plaited into a long braid. They had looked excited at carrying out their duties, excited and appreciative. The Daughter of the Nine Moons herself had been bored…. She yawned as she thought of the endless lessons her mother made her attend, her private teachers trying hard to make her learn history, law, customs, languages and all the many many things a future ruler of the Empire ought to be well versed in. None of the subjects interested her; weaponry was more to her taste, to her mother’s disapproval. A knife lay beside her on the divan and as soon as the subservient woman before her finished doing her nails she picked it up and held it in her hand, feeling the sharp edge with her other fingers. It had become a daily routine for her, to her mother’s disgust, and she found it eased her mind. She was very good with knives, having been taught to fight with them from an early age (her mother sick of her daughter’s constant pestering and finally relenting), and she always wore one on her person. Sororicide was not unheard of in Seanchan noble circles and both of her elder sisters, she felt sure, were going to attempt to kill her at some point since they had been passed over for the honour of becoming heir to the Empire. She would make sure she killed them first. ● When the attack came a few days later, it was the knife she carried that saved her life. She could find no other explanation. The special crystal-hilted knife was, in fact, an old Ter'angreal which suppressed weaves of Saidin, deflecting them, a secret she had come upon (and had confirmed) years earlier and which she had ordered her servants to keep secret on pain of death. Though she shared the disgust most Seanchan held for Damane and scepticism of the One Power and all the havoc it could cause in the world, she understood the value of the chained - and controlled - Damane in warfare and she also saw the value of artefacts of power. She had held onto the Ter'angreal partly out of curiosity (it was an historic object) but also in part in case it would one day be needed to defend against a man, an enemy, channeling Saidin (it did not protect against Saidar for some reason). It was a horrifying thought of course, but even so a wise precaution, also in view of certain secret Prophecies she had come across, and today it had saved her life. She could not see from where the attack came, but felt the knife at her side go ice-cold and a slight icy burning sensation came in her side as she sprang up from her divan and threw herself to the side before the table beside the divan exploded in a thousand pieces. She screamed a warning to her so'jhin but was unable to see if they managed to get away in time. Staying put, a mixture of anger and fear flowing through her, she waited while fireballs flew above her head lighting up the decorative curtains behind her. Shouts were coming from outside but still some way off. An ancient vase shattered close to her shoulder and the small table upon which it had stood broke and fell to the floor as she lay low, not daring to raise her head to look for her assailant. Screams came from the other side of the room now and more shouts from outside. A moment later several soldiers rushed into the room followed by two Suldam with their Damane, and finding the Daughter of the Nine Moons safe though shaken they breathed a huge sigh of relief as they hurried her out of there to safety. Keyraa cast a quick glance over her shoulder as they ushered her outside and saw one of the women who had attended to her dead, her eyes glazed and blood oozing from her head, and another crying hysterically from pain, one arm gone and part of a shoulder badly damaged, as she was being tended to by one of the Damane. ● Two thoughts remained in her head that entire day. One: it had to have been a man channeling the One Power - a man not collared! - who had attacked her, however unlikely that seemed. A man who must be found and leashed - or killed - for the safety of everyone. The Ter'angreal was not wrong. Could it have been him? The prophesized one? She shivered at the thought. And Two: could her jealous sisters somehow be involved? It seemed unlikely, for how would they get a channeling man to cooperate? But they hated her and would certainly want her dead. Shock replaced fury as day turned into night and she swore on her mother’s life that she would find whoever had attempted the assassination and would have him or them whipped naked through the streets of Seandar before beheading the person(s) publicly in the central square. The Empress, for her part, had the entire military squad patrolling the palace grounds executed for their ineptitude in keeping her daughter and heir safe. She also had a whole division of the Ever Victorious Army, aided by a dozen Suldam and Damane, out hunting the channeling man. The Commander of the Royal Family’s personal guard was demoted to da'covale, a slave of low rank, whipped and paraded around the grounds on his bloodied knees. When the day was over, he wished he were dead. ● We never found the channeling man, Keyraa thought to herself now as she stood by the rails of the warship. But whoever he was, I bet he was hired by one of my sisters. For who else would dare to kill the Daughter of the Nine Moons? She had been doubtful at first, but over time she has come to the conclusion that it had to have been one of them. The crystal-hilted knife she always bore on her person was a constant reminder of the threats she faced. Having it close at all times made her feel safer. Especially when travelling into foreign lands. A few more days and they would sight land. And not Falme as had been the original plan. But Tanchico, further south along the coast. The Captain-General, Meiahl Kereb, had been surprised by this revelation, as expected, and had argued against it, as expected. And he had obliged politely, as expected, when she had told him that if he did not obey her order, he would be thrown overboard but would first be stripped naked on deck and receive one hundred fifty lashes from the whip that some of the Suldam carried on their person. The Daughter of the Nine Moons thought he had chosen.. wisely. ● Calia studied the blond-haired muscled man closely. So, this was an assassin sent to kill them. A Darkfriend. His icy cold stare told her this was a veteran and someone who would not scare easily. Elessar’s threats, a very convincing act by her Gaidin, had not frightened this man but she had observed that he looked at the Warder as if seeing someone just as dangerous as him. He would be cautious for that reason. She knew that she would not be able to threaten him with things that would be lies and so she needed to be tactful.. What they needed above all was to get confirmation that he had been sent by the Shadow.. and if possible, to learn who he had received his orders from. Calia had experience from interrogations over the years and knew she needed to use some clever tactics to get this assassin to talk. Balancing it all with the truth, of course. Elessar stood a little behind her but she felt through the bond the absolute loyalty he had to her and belief in whatever she was going to do. He had her back and that increased her confidence. “So, big man”, she began smoothly. “We are to believe you are an assassin.” Her eyes looked sceptical. “But what assassin is as mediocre as you with the bow and arrow?” He had missed several times, after all. She saw his eyes widen slightly at the remark but his face remained the same stoic as before. She smiled inside. “Elessar, have you seen little girls showing this weak ability with the bow and arrow?” He replied that he had and, playing along with her line of questioning, he added that surely this man could not be an assassin with such pitiful skills. ● The man’s face hardened at the barb and it was just the reaction Calia wanted. She was aiming at hurting his pride. Pride in their craft was something all craftsmen - not the least assassins - valued highly. And they did not take criticism lightly. “Perhaps you are not an assassin after all”, Calia said smoothly, “and just a poor country boy”, she emphasized the boy, “out to rob travellers on the road.” His mouth twisted at the words but he remained silent, a sullen look on his face. “He is just a child”, Elessar added in the silence that followed. “A pathetic little boy playing at being a brigand. See the tears coming in his eyes. He wants to go home to mama.” The man made a grimace of disgust at this remark and Elessar could see anger building up in him. Calia saw it too and her smile widened inside. Her face was smooth though as she spoke again. “Perhaps we should take him to the next village, Elessar, and let some of the small girls teach him how to use that bow of his.” She smiled openly now. “His ability might.. amuse some of the five-year olds.” ● The man could not hold his anger anymore. “You pitiful Lightfools”, he shouted. “I am great at what I do!” He glared at them both, his pride hurt mightily. “Why else do you think they sent me to do the Great Lord’s bidding..” He stopped abruptly, realizing the trap he had walked into. His glare intensified. “So, they did send you to kill us.” Calia added, her blue eyes sparkling. “You are not a country boy playing brigand after all.” “You trapped me!” He spat, his whole face going red. “You Tar Valon whore!” In two quick steps Elessar was in front of him and he slapped him so hard that the man’s jaw was almost dislocated. Kneeling down before him, the Warder’s knife pressed against the assassin’s chin and drew a little blood. “I told you”, he said in icy dangerous tones, “no disrespectful remarks aimed at this Aes Sedai.” His eyes darkened. “If you do that again, I will not be as lenient.” Drawing more blood, he then held the knife before the man’s eyes for a long moment before stepping back and moving to the side. “I am sorry for the interruption, Calia Aes Sedai”, he said formally and with much respect. He was smiling darkly. “But I will not listen to such blatant disrespect.” A small smile came upon Calia’s lips but it was gone almost at once. She stared at the assassin again, ready to continue the interrogation. They had confirmation now that the Shadow had sent this man to kill them. They had to try and learn who he had gotten his orders from. And so she continued with her questions, with Elessar adding some dangerous threats intermittently. ● Together they goaded him into admitting that someone higher up in the Caemlyn Assassin’s guild had given him the orders but no matter what threats they gave he was unwilling to say anything more. He was a professional in that way and knowing the kind, Elessar was glad they had gotten any information out of him at all. They brought him tied across the back of Elessar’s warhorse, Stormbreaker (who kicked the assassin in the nuts as he was being hoisted up on the horse’s back; something that made the Warder grin inside) to the nearest town where he was delivered into the hands of the town watch with orders to have him subsequently brought under guard to the authorities in Caemlyn. So, the Shadow is after us, Calia thought to herself musingly as they rode along the dusty road in the direction of her hometown. They would arrive there around midday the next day. ● Serehstra walked into the noisy inn and looked around. The Common Room was filled to the brim with cheerful and drunk patrons, banging tables and singing lustfully. By the bar most men leaned over their glasses of ale seemingly oblivious of the gleeman’s jaunty tunes while next to the entrance door two bouncers stood like rocks, ready to throw out any troublemakers. They were big, bearded, muscled Ebou Dari men with hard eyes who no one wanted to argue with. And then there was the innkeeper, a heavy set Ebou Dari man with a smooth smile on his lips who wore an apron and seemed to follow every single movement in his establishment. He was now talking to one of the serving girls, a voluptuous red-head with long legs and a short skirt who liked to flirt with the customers. So this is The Swordfish. Serehstra thought. The roughest inn in Ebou Dar or so the rumours went. It lay in the Rahad, on the other side of the River Eldar. It was locally known as the area of Ebou Dar where the less fortunate in life made their living. The streets in the Rahad were often narrow alleys, with buildings standing as high as five or six stories above the ground. The streets were filled with the refuse of the inhabitants. The Rahad was no doubt a very dangerous place. Not only were duels very frequent there, some adversaries did not even bother with the formalities and simply stabbed their victims in the back. A rough neighbourhood indeed, thought the Red Sister as she walked further into the inn. She was spotted now by the innkeeper who came bustling toward her in quick steps. Gazing into her face and half-nodding to himself, he gave a polite bow and welcomed her to his inn. “We are not used to customers of your high standing, Aes Sedai” he said smoothly though his eyes belied his discomfort. “We are pretty full this evening”, he added, “but I am sure we can find a comfortable room for you.” Serehstra waved the offer aside. Her smile was feigned. “No need, my good innkeeper”, she replied politely. “I don’t need a room for tonight.” Her eyes tightened slightly. “What I do need, however, is some information.” ● He glanced at the red shawl she wore atop her light-red dress, at her light-brown hair and finally again at her smooth face which he had learned was that of a Sister of the White Tower. Her piercing sapphire-blue eyes were watching him like a hawk or at least that was his impression and he wet his lips. He had never been comfortable around Aes Sedai. He did not think of them as witches as good folk thought in neighbouring Amadicia, but neither did he enjoy their company. He tried to keep his dismay off his face as he replied. “Information you say.” His eyes took on a shrewd look. “What information did you have in mind?” Serehstra recognized the look in his eyes. She had seen it many times before. It was the look of a man who was thinking about secrets he should not tell but also how much money he might earn if he were to divulge some information. A greedy look but also a cautious one. “Oh, I think it is something we should talk about in private, my good man.” Her tone of voice brooked no nonsense. Seeing her determined gaze, he nodded softly and then led her across the room and through a door to the small office behind. It only had a desk, a couple of chairs and some shelves on which a handful books were stacked. A small window at the back let in some light but otherwise the office was very plain. In a drawer he had his ledger for his business but it was safely locked and only he had the key. When he was comfortably seated behind his desk and she had sat down in the chair opposite, he spoke. His eyes were still shrewd but inside he was feeling weariness. He did indeed know secrets that were very private. “How may I be of assistance”, he said smoothly, his hands resting on the desktop. Serehstra considered the man before her. His black beard covered much of his face. His brown eyes were deep set and there was a scar on his left cheek. His hair was short and greasy. She had seen many such men in the Rahad, often sailors, sometimes not. But very often unsavoury. “I know you are aware of everything that happens in your establishment”, she began. “And so.. you can tell me.. who it was here among you who sent that man to kill me.” The way she said it matter-of-factly disturbed him much though he tried to hide it. Her smile was dangerous and her face hardened. She was not going to leave this room without an answer. ● “Papa, I love you”, Sandana said as she buried her face in her father’s chest. “I love you too, sweetheart”, he replied lovingly, his hands caressing her hair. Sandana’s face was radiant and she cherished the comfort of her father’s warm embrace. After a long silence she spoke softly. “Papa, what is an Octagon?” Argam seemed surprised by the question and replied that he did not know. Sandana frowned for a quick moment, but then her smile was warm again. She was not sure if the ceremony with the white-robed women had been real or just a dream. It had felt real at the time, very real, but thinking back on it she wondered if it had been just a fantasy, a dream such as girls often had. Of being a princess or a queen on a beautiful throne. It did not matter. It had been magical either way. She had woken in her bed and had felt the love of those women caressing her soul. A tear had flowed down her cheek, perhaps of loss but mostly of wonderful remembrance. “There is beauty in the world, Papa”. She said, her smile widening. “There is beauty in our souls.” All Argam could do was smile warmly in wonder. ● Lady Carahna was a Noble Lady and Head of House Lenaga, one of the five big Houses of Kandor. Standing at the castle walls, staring with her deep brown eyes in the direction of the Plain of Lances in the far west, her long dark hair flowing in the cold wind sweeping across the Borderlands that late evening, she thought once again about the battle, and subsequently war, that was coming. It filled her with dread. Kandor was one of the four Borderland nations which lay on the threshold of the Great Blight, sitting between Saldaea to the west and Arafel to the east. The nation was formed early in the War of the Hundred Years when the governors of Hawkwing's five northern provinces met and agreed to form stable nations to preserve the peace and defend against the Blight. Kandor was one of these nations. And Jarel Soukovni had been its first King. Now Kandor was ruled by a Queen. The question was how long she would sit on the throne. A month or so ago the bodies of fallen Kandori soldiers had begun to arrive here in the western town of Ferala. Fallen soldiers from the battle further west. It had been an important fight against the Shadow, she had been told by the Aes Sedai who had stopped in the town before going east to the Capital. The Kandori soldiers had fought with honour, it was said, and it made her proud. It had been just one battle though. The war was coming. Of that she had no doubt. She knew that the town garrison consisted of about eight hundred men of which four hundred would defend the castle, the heart of the city. But against an army of Myrddraal, Trollocs and perhaps worse she did not believe they would stand for long. She had sent word to the Kandori Queen to send additional forces west but had received no reply. This worried her more than she would admit. Oh, she was warrior-bred and hard as steel as everyone around her knew, but she was also a realist and knew when opposition forces would be too strong. Turning her mind away from the inevitable defeat that was echoing in her head, she left the castle roof and walked down the stairs to the level below. There she stumbled across her advisor Sirih, a Borderlander woman of iron and wisdom who had given the Lady much good advice in the past months. “Sirih”, she greeted the slightly younger blonde-haired green-eyed woman. “Walk with me.” The woman called Sirih walked beside the Lady of the Castle along the corridor and down another level. As they walked, the Lady talked. “Advise me”, she began. “An army of Shadowspawn will be outside our gates in perhaps a week or so I am told by our scouts.” Her eyes tightened darkly. “How are we to stand any chance against them?” The other woman thought for a long moment before answering. Her dark eyes had a shrewd look but the Lady did not notice, staring ahead as she did. “The odds are not very good”, she admitted, “but.. I think you should take the fight to them!” ● Lady Carahna stopped in her tracks and looked at her advisor, her mouth agape. “You mean, we should.. attack!?” She finally uttered, disbelief in her voice. “They will have overwhelming superiority in numbers if what we surmise is correct. How can we stand a chance attacking them on open ground? And who will defend the castle?” Sirih remained calm as she answered. “Lady, an attack is exactly what they will not expect!” She smiled cleverly. “You will take them by surprise! I think the numbers we hear rumoured are inflated, and even if you don’t succeed in defeating them their forces will be somewhat depleted. They will not be anywhere as strong when they reach the castle here.” It sounded logical the way her advisor described it, but something made her doubtful, as if there were a flaw in that logic. But she trusted her advisor and mulled over what she had heard as they continued along the walkway which led down to her personal quarters. Stopping just outside her door, she turned toward her advisor a final time. “You really think we can take them by surprise?” When Sirih nodded, the Lady added, “And the castle will stand a better chance that way?” “Yes, my Lady, that I believe”, Sirih lied. Her face was smooth. “This way you will save more of your people.” That seemed to make an impression on the Lady of the Castle because she nodded, a small smile appearing on her face. Sirih, the advisor to the Lady, left her standing there by her door and headed up to the level above, passing several Kandori soldiers on the way. Some winked at her but she pretended not to notice. Once she arrived back in her own quarters she quickly moved across to a small cupboard and poured herself a drink. The red wine tasted particularly delicious this day. ● Whispers ran through the Dark room like a wraith moving in a dance with Death. Soft laughter seemed to come from within the glass of the tall, heavily decorated mirror that stood alone in the chamber. Like a sentinel. It was close to midnight, the silver moon shining brightly in the night sky, when the whispers became everything. Mirror Mirror, on the Wall Into Shadow, you may Fall Step beyond and conquer Fear Fail and feel the victim’s Tear ▀▄

Welcome to @Alex.B and @Ze Clara07, both! Legacy Access can be granted once I get another post or two from you. (I can only award 1 per post)

The atmosphere had changed in the Riposte - it was palpable that people's attention was now on the prospective job. Kaylee was surprised that the Taraboner was still holding the offer open for her. She carefully lifted her spear so she could lean on it. "I have no horse, and well, I can sit on one." Kaylee sounded unconvinced. "The wagons will be good enough for me. I do be in, if you'll still have me."

I, Alex.B have read the above and rules, and would like to join the Roleplay! Yes to the Legacy Group access, please.

Yes, she is a bit headstrong. Though that explained by Min's viewing that her children would be born which is a nit lacking as she could have given birth minus a few limbs or in captivity and she is also very reckless with other people's lives as well. But I suppose she is allowed her faults as much as anyone. Also I think she is aware that she does not outrank the other Accepted, and that she has zero chance of getting Nynaeve or Egwene to anything she tells them anyway.

I, Ze Clara07 have read the above and rules, and would like to join the Roleplay! Yes to the Legacy Group access, please.

I hear you. Still feels weird for her to just let others lead, diplomacy or not. Even when on the throne, her decision making is suspect (especially where Daved Hanlon is concerned).

I think this has something to with the way Jordan sees women, definitely how they are portrayed in the book. IIRC Jordan said he grew up in a household with strong women, I don't quite remember the exact wording. But most of the female characters are, to use a negative term, bossy. In contrast to the men who nearly universally follow the rules, accept each other's authority, selflessly work for the greater good; if you stick two female characters together they start to argue about who is in charge. Three and you have a fight. A lot more and you have the cluster**** that is the White Tower. The exception to this Elayne, who has been trained in diplomacy. I cannot help but feel - probably completely incorrectly - that a lot of the female interactions are based on Jordan's own experiences of, say, his relatives cooking Thanksgiving dinner and as such he sees Elayne as above this kind of kitchen politics. Of course it could just be she has been specifically trained on how to get along with groups that are disagreeing, but I cannot help picture a scene in a Southern kitchen when the issue of who's stuffing recipe is going to be used and it looks like things are about to turn nasty. That is my take anyway.

Elayne was born to rule. She has been taught to lead from the cradle. But whenever she is with Egwene or Nynaeve she suddenly becomes the village girl and allows the others to take lead while sticks her nose in the air.

The most frustrating thing for me is that, it just seems like the bad guys were born bad. I cannot remember a single character being recruited or converted to the dark side. We hear how each Forsaken converted purely because they came from an era of peace and tranquility. All others seem to just be born into it. I know some obscure characters rethink their path to the dark, but all were insidious to start with. As far as I can tell, since the first book, no named character who was not a dark friend becomes a dark friend aside from Taim's forced conversions in the appropriately named Black Tower (Rand was completely insane by then, I'm sure).

*** Spoiler Alert *** The small three (Rand, Mat & Perrin being the big), were the first to be tasked with hunting dark sisters. This even led to Egwene's capture, something she really hated. Robert Jordan constantly reminds us how much Egwene hated being damane. So why don't these three think about asking Moghedien to point out who is black ajah in the tower? In fact, why does everyone in Salidar, including Siuan Sanche herself, just forget about them completely? I understand they have a lot on their plate, but their little disagreement with the White Tower pales in comparison to the fight to save time itself.

I read what you typed. Words have no meaning if they are devoid of context. I’m not going to play the motte and bailey game where you come out making an argument that heavily implies something, then retreat to “but I didn’t actually say that” when you’re called out on the implication. If you weren’t trying to argue that Harriet is contractually bound to refrain from criticizing the show, fine. Then your posts are meaningless observations, irrelevant to the conversation at hand. You can’t have it both ways.

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I just popped in to say hi. I should have more time for DM, since I called off my wedding.

You need to go back and slowly read the original posts. Keep them in context and then read my responses. Don't try and read between my lines, there is nothing there, I type upfront nothing hidden. Slow down, preferably stop, the knee jerk reactions. read only what I type, don't put words or thoughts that are not there in my mouth/typing. I'm reading what you are typing and responding to that. Please do the same for me.

I don't think it's unrealistic that there would be people who are evil for evil's sake considering the cosmology of the universe. If we had a primal force of chaos that was manifested in our world, it would likely have many followers.

I could be wrong, but I thought she was forbidden from channeling, which as long the oaths were in place she physically could not break. So even with the Oath Rod in her possession, she could not be free until she found another channeler to release her. I think at least that it was something like that, that although she could get free, she needed help yet.

Didn't some of the Maidens offer emotional support, albeit in the Aiel manner, as the son of a Maiden finally returned to them? I seem to vaguely recall several examples. I don't think any/most of the examples provided Rand any comfort, but I sincerely believe they were meant to.

Kai chuckled at Eb's disgust at gateways -- she knew what he was capable of. Knew he like his father could weave a gateway as much as she hated them. But the man already knew his talents. So he said nothing. With Eb along, he might not practice his ability as much, but she wouldn't fault him for staying on top of his game, either. There was one problem with accepting, and that was what his fathers would say. He mentally prepared his argument and would land last with 'but Eb is going'. He felt he was strong enough to do this. Could do this without their permission -- he was old enough, after all. But he didn't want to disrespect his fathers either. Kai looked at the now saddened woman and then at Eb. This was an opportunity he was likely not going to find so easily. An easy run. Something he could easily convince his fathers. He nodded from across the room. "I'm in. I can ride a horse and have one of my own."

You heavily implied it. I pointed out that Harriet’s involvement in the series suggests that she doesn’t find it to be some sort of abomination that insults her husband’s legacy. You responded that her public comments were tepid and then brought up her contractual obligations to Amazon. What difference does the existence of those obligations make to your argument if not to imply that they preclude her from making negative statements about the show? Why talk about how difficult it would be to get her name removed from the project if not to imply that she is forbidden to do so by way of contract?

The additional byplay was making Ashar consider whether the arrangements he was making would last, but perhaps he would simply have to take what he could get. The sooner he could confirm a contingent, the sooner the pay could come in and it had the possibility of being a relatively easy run. If genuine danger had been anticipated, he would have expected more than five to be required. Of all of them, Eb was shaping up to be a good possible second. She confronted the issue but also de-escalated it, mercenaries who didn't keep the peace either had to be too useful or terrifying, otherwise they didn't last. Cocking his head slightly at her as she moved back onto business, he listened to her as she took up the cup while asking her questions and explaining herself. "Pay is always important, yes? Four silver crowns a day at Andoran weight, meals provided while we are on the road but in the settlements it will be up to us to make our own choices. You won't become rich, but for what should be a quiet run it will be a tidy profit. An additional bonus is still to be determined based on how well we perform and in what condition the caravan is in by the end. Don't expect it to be high, but expect it all the same." Looking at all of them, Ashar leaned back a little as he spoke. "Whatever your reasons are, you are here, yes? We look to leave in three days, time enough for you to finalise any matters you have and make any necessary arrangements. We go north and back, and if it works out then perhaps we look to continue on together. If not, we do a good job and part ways a little wealthier. I will be staying here during that time so I will be easy enough to find if you need anything." "But what I need to know is if you are in or not. Also, if you are in, if you're capable of riding a horse. If so I may be able to arrange one for you, otherwise you will be on the wagons." "So, questions? Decisions? Who would speak first?"