Rand half raised his bow. Remember, here, her words are law, not yours. Egwene and Bela surged toward their own dull reflections; two shaggy horses touched noses, appeared to flow into each other. A man standing in front of the guardhouse took note of him - his bright coat marked him out, as well as his height among the Cairhienin - and hurried inside, but Rand did not notice.
A clapper hung below the grill. Some of the servants in Fal Dara keep, though, had taken it to mean he was a king, too, or at least a prince. Please, Lord Rand. And all the gates were barred.
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