Mat's going to die, Darkfriends have the Horn of Valere, Fain will hurt Emond's Field if you don't follow him, and you're afraid to channel the Power. A tall leatherleaf perhaps a mile away suddenly became a roaring torch. He seemed to be trying not to look at the water roiling under clouds of mist. It seemed to come out of nowhere.
Blinking, Rand staggered his feet, coughing in thick, acrid smoke, ears ringing. This is where gambling comes in. Mat and Verin and the others were waiting by the doors. But first I think we had better find some clothes of the country.
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