Jahar drew himself up as if he had anticipated this, and dreaded answering. His face remained hard and cold, though. "Fifty-one sisters have been bonded by Asha'man already, and four of us are bonded to Aes Sedai. Forty-seven makes the difference. There were five of us, but one died defending his Aes Sedai. Remember his name. Eben Hopwil. Remember him!"
There was a stunned silence from the benches. Romanda felt a lump of ice in her middle. Fifty-one sisters? Bonded by Asha'man? It was an abomination!
"Manners, Jahar!" Merise snapped. "Do not make me tell you again!"
Shockingly, he rounded on her. "They need to know, Merise. They need to know!" Turning back, he ran his gaze along the benches. His eyes seemed hot. He had been dreading nothing. He had been angry, and still was. "Eben was linked with his Daigian and Beldeine, with Daigian controlling the link, so when they found themselves facing one of the Forsaken, all he could do was shout, 'She's channeling sadin,' and attack her with his sword. And despite what she did to him, ruined as he was, he managed to hang on to life, hang on to sadin, long enough for Daigian to drive her off. So you remember his name! Eben Hopwil. He fought for his Aes Sedai long after he should have been dead!"

"How may I help you, Aes Sedai? You wish me to send a message for you via my pigeons? It will be my pleasure." It was also wise to grant Aes Sedai any favors they asked, and a pigeon was a small favor.
"A message to each merchant you correspond with. Tarmon Gai'don is coming soon."
He shrugged uneasily. "That is nothing to do with me, Aes Sedai. I'm a merchant." She was asking for a good many pigeons. He corresponded with merchants as far away as Shienar. "But I will send your message." He would, too, however many birds it required. Only stone-blind idiots failed to keep promises to Aes Sedai. Besides which, he wanted rid of her and her talk of the Last Battle.
"Do you recognize this?" she said, fishing a leather cord from the neck of her dress.
His breath caught, and he stretched out a hand, brushed a finger across the heavy gold signet ring on the cord. Across the crane in flight. How had she come by this? Under the Light, how? "I recognize it," he told her, his voice suddenly hoarse.
"My name is Nynaeve ti al'Meara Mandragoran. The message I want sent is this. My husband rides from World's End toward Tarwin's Gap, toward Tarmon Gai'don. Will he ride alone?"
He trembled. He did not know whether he was laughing or crying. Perhaps both. She was his wife? "I will send your message, my Lady, but it has nothing to do with me. I am a merchant. Malkier is dead. Dead, I tell you."
The heat in her eyes seemed to intensify, and she gripped her long, thick braid with one hand. "Lan told me once that Malkier lives so long as one man wears the hadori in pledge that he will fight the Shadow, so long as one woman wears the ki'sain in pledge that she will send her sons to fight the Shadow. I wear the ki'sain, Master Aldragoran. My husband wears the hadori. So do you. Will Lan Mandragoran ride to the Last Battle alone?"
He was laughing, shaking with it. And yet, he could feel tears rolling down his cheeks. It was madness! Complete madness! But he could not help himself. "He will not, my Lady. I cannot stand surety for anyone else, but I swear to you under the Light and by my hope of rebirth and salvation, he will not ride alone." For a moment, she studied his face, then nodded once firmly and turned away. He flung out a hand after her. "May I offer you wine, my Lady? My wife will want to meet you." Alida was Saldaean, but she definitely would want to meet the wife of the Uncrowned King.
"Thank you, Master Aldragoran, but I have several more towns to visit today, and I must be back in Tear tonight."
He blinked at her back as she glided toward the door gathering her cloak. She had several more towns to visit today, and she had to be back in Tear tonight? Truly, Aes Sedai were capable of marvels!
Silence hung in the common room. They had not been keeping their voices low, and even the girl with the dulcimer had ceased plying her hammers. Everyone was staring at him. Most of the outlanders had their mouths hanging open.
"Well, Managan, Gorenellin," he demanded, "do you still remember who you are? Do you remember your blood? Who rides with me for Tarwin's Gap?"
For a moment, he thought neither man would speak, but then Gorenellin was on his feet, tears glistening his eyes. "The Golden Crane flies for Tarmon Gai'don," he said softly.
"The Golden Crane flies for Tarmon Gai'don!" Managan shouted, leaping up so fast he overturned his chair.