“It does not sound like Morgase,” Thom said after a time, half to himself. His bushy eyebrows were pulled down like a white arrow pointing to his nose. “What does not sound like her?” Mat asked absently. “Stopping the crossings. Sending people back. She always had a temper like lightning, but she always had a soft heart, too, for anyone poor or hungry.” He shook his head.
Darkfriend replaced her?
