Bare-chested men poured wine over themselves and anyone else close to them. Perspiring women in plain rough wool seized sweaty men in color-striped dark silks and pulled them into the dance men in carters’ coats and stablemen’s vests whirled women whose dresses bore slashes of color sometimes to the waist. Propriety had gone down the well and with it every barrier between common and noble, in public at least. ! The Cairhienin seemed determined to make up for a year of staid reserve in the two days of the feast. There would be dancing in the Two Rivers, but this. It was the first day of the Feast of Lights, the shortest day of the year, the last day of the year, and the city celebrated in ways Perrin could never have imagined.
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