The toughened Shienarans were feeling the effects of what they had seen in the village. It held like granite; he floated in an emptiness as hard as stone. Sandair made a bow. Here in the women's apartments they hang draperies to soften the rooms, and they plant beautiful gardens, but there is no part of this place not purpose-made for battle, death, and killing.
I will not be used! Drawing on his own native stubbornness, he forced himself back upright. It is all right, Nynaeve. For a time he just stared at it. We remember the Pact, and we would not have bared steel, but we are in the land of the Treekillers, where every hand is against us, and we saw armed men.
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