Olver caught sight of the man’s face, and his breath caught. “Noal?” Noal clubbed a Trolloc arm, forcing the creature back, then glanced at Olver and smiled. Though Noal still appeared aged, the weariness was gone from his eyes, as if a great burden had been lifted from him. A white horse stood nearby, with a golden saddle and reins, the most magnificent animal that Olver had ever seen. “Noal, they said you died!” Olver cried. “I did,” Noal said, then laughed. “The Pattern was not finished with me, son. Sound that Horn! Sound it proudly, Hornsounder!” Olver did so, blowing the Horn as Noal
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