The color is right, too. As he had been taught, Rand formed a single flame in his mind and concentrated on it, tried to feed all emotion and passion into it, to form a void within himself, with even thought outside. He seemed to catch something in Perrin's eyes. Muttering under his breath, he reluctantly obeyed.
It was all of one piece, neither woven, nor dyed, nor painted. Min had been leaning against the door, squinting at Elayne, and now she shook her head. A small, age-dark ivory carving of a man holding a sword. Rand slung his bow across his back and climbed onto Red.
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