Nynaeve closes her eyes briefly and bits off a bitter curse--one that might blister even Mat's ears.

Perhaps.

"Well, then."

She pauses a moment, scanning the crowd. Light, she hates this.

"Best get to it."

And she turns back to her work, bandaging and splinting where the wounds are merely physical, adding a bit of saidar to help mend bones, but--bed rest won't do any harm, on the whole. And there are others that appear to be wasting away even as she watches.

She won't have that. She won't.