“Noal!” Thom said, wheezing, standing with his hands on his knees, near Mat’s ashandarei leaning against the wall. “You can’t do this.” “Yes I can,” Noal said. He stepped up to the corridor, beyond which the Aelfinn gathered. “Thom, you’re in no shape to fight. Mat, you’re the one whose luck can find the way out. Neither of you can stay. But I can.”
