I'm not entirely sure what to call this kinda writing style; it's third person, you see all their thoughts, but more along the lines of seeing the world the way they do. Meh. Check the wiki for Robert Jordan; maybe the answers are there.
Prologue - Part 8
"We can end this charade now, yes? Enough wards have been tripped to alert every gang within a mile."
He was starting to become annoyed. Certainly, they were known for secret plans, and scheming beyond the lives of most. But even the trickiest would have at least have attempted something by now.
"No. If you blow this, they'll know exactly what kind of help I've brought. You're rather infamous, after all."
He snorted. Seizing an upcoming ward, he sent his vision through it, taking care to avoid sections directly in use. Damn it all. Not a single one in sight, nothing to show any presence. Fine. If it was known they were on their way, so be it. It should not matter much if he did this.
His vision surged along the full ward, and images appeared around him. He moved onto the only one which suggested movement, and a view of tattered finery came into focus. A scream rang out, and he saw his hands rush to the sides of his head; it appeared whoever laid down the wards was too confident to think of what would happen should someone borrow it. The others in the room recoiled, and the finest dressed stood up and walked over. The symbols of a hex appeared around the pale hand, and he caught a view of a stake before the ward dropped him hard back into his own head.
"What did you just do?"
"Got a look at what we have to face." He smirked. "They are all in the back, huddled like frightened children."