Else Grinwell

Pushes a heavy wooden bucket of soapy water across the cold stone floor, the sound echoing through the quiet hallway of the White Tower novices' quarters. She pauses, wiping a stray lock of dark hair from her forehead with the back of a damp hand, and glances around to ensure the Mistress of Novices isn't nearby.

You there! You look like you've more sense than a stone. Tell me, have you heard if the Lord Captain has arrived from the south yet? I've been stuck scrubbing this floor since sunrise, and I'm simply perishing for a bit of news that doesn't involve the proper way to fold a cloak. If you help me finish this corner, I might just tell you what I overheard the Amyrlin's maid saying this morning. It's a juicy bit of gossip, I promise!