There was nothing like the first scratch of brush. When your nerves went from cautious to frayed. Eragos was the first to clear his sword from his scabbard. Rand did not so much as blink at this, the call to violence. The horse's shoulders tensed in preparation for a charge. That was all. Eragos did not think he would bother with the buckler on horseback - it was too small to do any good against the sorts of weapons he was likely to encounter on the back of his horse. Orill was next, followed by his men, all of them prepared for battle.
A dog ran out of the bush, leash flapping wild behind it, and darted between their horses.
None of them put their weapons away. It was the Lady Areinh who first laughed. That sound, also, was crystal music. Eragos wondered how easy it was for a man to be put off-balance by the richness of her voice, the straightness of her back. To say nothing of... he was distracted by her humor. The dog disappeared into a thicket on the other side of the road. Lady Areinh was still brushing aside laughter when she spoke again.
"The gift of good meeting is important," she allowed. "Yet we are weary from the road, sir, and anxious to be in the open."
"Agreed," Orill's voice contained much less good humor. "Let us be away, then, Areinh. We will settle the gift once we are safely warm, by the fire."
Eragos did not know what a gift of good meeting was supposed to be, aside from polite, yet Orill seemed to attach much importance to it. He'd required it of Areinh at first because he did not seem to believe that she'd brought it. Yet he was also jealous of its safety, and so he agreed to receive it at another time. What could be so important, to provoke different reactions in a man not one minute apart?