"They aren't turning," Davian declared as the distance opened up between the ship and the rowboat. It slid up and down over the long rolling storm waves, tiny and insignificant against the majesty of the sea. Zoya gripped the gunnels on both sides, holding herself steady as they plunged down the face of one of the mighty waves. Ironically, she found this less unpleasant than the ship, having grown up on the shadow coast, hauling crab pots for her various uncles and relations until she had run away from home and began the long road that ultimately took her to Tar Valon.

"They can't, they'd be in irons if they tried, and they can't tack across the face of the wind, not with this swell," She explained, bracing herself as the nose of the boat plowed into the trough and began rising up the other side.

"Sure, whatever you say," Davian replied, pulling hard to keep the boat from turning side on and being swamped. Zoya closed her eyes and embraced Saidar, weaving a shell of air around them. The rain which had been pouring in began to patter on the shield, an extremely eerie effect as water struck nothing the naked eye could see. When they next crested the wave the ship had vanished behind a curtain of rain. Probably they were happy to be rid of their last minute guests. 

"You can stop rowing," Zoya said, "We will be driven inland by the waves, and we wont capsize while the shield is in place." Davian reluctantly let go of the oars.

"So why did you?" Zoya asked in the oddly peaceful silence that followed.

"Why did I what?" Davian demanded.

"Why did you help me in the Stone?"