The man who called himself Bors glanced at the figures floating in front of Ba'alzamon. He shrugged. It is then that my story begins. If simply carrying it was dangerous, he did not want to know what a cut from it would do.
All I want is to give the dagger to Mat, and the Horn to Ingtar. Their eyes stared at him, wide with fear, and their mouths gaped in a last scream no one could hear. In the morning I will tell you everything you need to know. tion, extremely rigid in their beliefs, and completely certain that only they know the truth and the right.
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