There was blood crusted on his cheek. Moiraine made a soothing gesture, and her old friend grimaced at her. The trumpets cried again. I don't think they've come upon the mountain, yet.
Odd thing to worry about. Ingtar sounded unsettled. Resting? He insisted on going out, Ingtar answered. That was cobblestoned, too, but only the backs of buildings looked down on it, shuttered windows and expanses of stone, and the high back walls of gardens overtopped by nearly leafless branches.
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