Riding his cart down the snowy road to Tremosien, Barmellin wondered whether old Maglin at The Nine Rings would pay what he wanted for the plum brandy in the cart behind him. He was not sanguine. She was tight with silver, Maglin was, the brandy was not very good, and this late in the winter, she might be willing to wait until spring to get better. Suddenly he realized that the day seemed very bright. Almost like summer noon instead of a winter morning. Strangest of all the glow seemed to be coming from the huge pit beside the road where workmen from the City had beem digging away until the previous year. There was supposed to be a monstrous statue down there, but he had never been interested enough to actually look for himself.
Now, almost against his will, he reined in his stout mare and climed down into the snow to trudge to the brink of the pit. It was a hundered paces deep ant ten times as far across, and he had to put his hands in front of his face against the blinding glare that came from the bottom. Squinting through his fingers, he could make out a glowing ball, like a second sun. Abruptly, it came to him that this must be the One Power.
With a strangled yell he lumbered back through the snow to his cart and scrambled up, flailing Nisa with the reins to get her moving even as he was trying to jerk her head around to head back to his farm. He was going to stay in his own house and drink that brandy himself. All of it.
Winter's Heart by Robert Jordan Chapter 35
Take the Dailly QuickPoll
