Wheel Of Time - Knife Of Dreams Part 3

The sun stood well above the mountains as Karede rode through the trees toward the so-called Malvide Narrows, perhaps two leagues ahead. The five-mile-wide gap in the mountains carried the road from Ebou Dar to Lugard, a mile south of him. Well short of the Narrows, though, he would find the camp Ajimbura had located for him. Ajimbura had not been fool enough to try entering the camp, so Karede still did not know whether he was riding into a deathtrap for nothing. No, not for nothing. For the High Lady Tuon. Any Deathwatch Guard was ready to die for her. Their honor was duty, and duty often meant death. The sky held only billowing white clouds with no threat of rain. He had always hoped to die in sunlight.He had brought just a small party. Ajimbura on his white-footed chestnut to show the way, of course. The wiry little man had cut off his white-streaked red braid, a measure of his great devotion. The hill tribes took those braids as trophies from those they killed in their endless feuds, and to be without one was to be disgraced in the eyes of all the tribes and families, a self-proclaimed coward. That devotion was to Karede rather than the High Lady or the Crystal Throne, but Karede's own devotion was such that it came to the same thing. Two of the Guards rode at Karede's back, their red-and-green armor buffed till it shone, like his own. Hartha and a pair of Gardeners strode along with their long-hafted axes on their shoulders, easily keeping pace with the horses. Their armor glistened as well. Melitene, the High Lady's der'sul'dam, her long, graying hair tied with a bright red ribbon today, was on a high-stepping gray, the silvery length of an a'dam connecting her left wrist to Mylen's neck. There had been little that could be done to make those two appear more impressive, but the a'dam and Melitene's blue dress, the red panels on skirts and bosom holding silver forked lightning bolts, should draw the eye. Taken altogether, no one should notice Ajimbura at all. The rest were back with Musenge, in case it truly was a deathtrap.He had considered using another damane than Mylen. The tiny woman with the face he could never put an age to almost bounced in her saddle with eagerness to lay eyes on the High Lady again. She was not properly composed. Still, she could do nothing without Melitene, and she was useless as a weapon, a fact that had made her hang her head when he pointed it out to the der'sul'dam. She had needed consoling, her sul'dam petting her and telling her what beautiful Sky Lights she made, how wonderful her Healing was. Even thinking about that made Karede shudder. Taken in the abstract, it might seem a wonderful thing, wounds undone in moments, but he thought he would need to be near death before he would let anyone touch him with the Power. And yet, if it could have saved his wife Kalia. . . . No, the weapons had been left with Musenge. If there was a battle today, it would be of a different sort.The first birdcall he heard seemed no different from others he had heard that morning, but it was repeated ahead, and then again. Just one call each time. He spotted a man up in a tall oak with a crossbow that tracked him as he rode. Seeing him was not easy; his breastplate and open-faced helmet were painted a dull green that faded into the tree's foliage. A length of red cloth tied around his left arm helped, though. If he really wanted to hide, he should have removed that.Karede motioned to Ajimbura and the wiry little man grinned at him, a wizened, blue-eyed rat, before allowing his chestnut to fall back behind the Guards. His long knife was under his coat today. He should pa.s.s for a servant.Soon enough Karede was riding into the camp itself. It had no tents or shelters of any kind, but there were long horselines laid out in orderly fashion, and many more men in green breastplates. Heads turned to watch his party pa.s.s, but few men were on their feet, and fewer held a crossbow. A fair number of them were asleep on their blankets, doubtless tired from all the hard riding they had been doing by night. So the birdcall had told them he was not enough to present a danger. They had the look of well-trained soldiers, but he had expected as much. What he had not expected was how few they were. Oh, the trees might be hiding some, but surely the camp held no more than seven or eight thousand men, far too few to have carried out the campaign Loune had described. He felt a sudden tightness in his chest. Where were the rest? The High Lady might be with one of the other bands. He hoped Ajimbura was taking note of the numbers.Before he had gone far, a short man mounted on a tall dun met him and reined in where he had to stop or ride the man down. The front half of his head was shaved, and appeared to be powdered, of all things. He was no popinjay, though. His dark coat might be silk, yet he wore the same dull green breastplate as the common soldiers. His eyes were hard and expressionless as he scanned Melitene and Mylen, the Ogier. His face did not change as his gaze returned to Karede."Lord Mat described that armor to us," he said in accents even quicker and more clipped than those of the Altarans. "To what do we owe the honor of a visit from the Deathwatch Guard?"Lord Mat? Who under the Light was Lord Mat? "Furyk Karede," Karede said. "I wish to speak with the man who calls himself Thom Merrilin.""Talmanes Delovinde," the man said, finding manners. "You want to talk to Thom? Well, I see no harm in it. I will take you to him."Karede heeled Aldazar after Delovinde. The man had made no mention of the obvious, that he and the others could not be allowed to leave and carry word of this army's location. He had some manners. At least, they would not be allowed to leave unless Karede's mad plan worked. Musenge gave him only one chance in ten of success, one in five of living. Personally, he himself believed the odds longer, but he had to make the attempt. And Merrilin's presence argued in favor of the High Lady's presence.Delovinde dismounted at an oddly domestic scene among the trees, people on camp stools or blankets around a small fire beneath a spreading oak where a kettle was heating. Karede stepped down from his saddle, motioning the Guards and Ajimbura to dismount as well. Melitene and Mylen remained on their mounts for the advantage of height. Of all people, Mistress Anan, who had once owned the inn where he stayed in Ebou Dar, was sitting on one of the three-legged stools reading a book. She no longer wore one of those revealing dresses he had enjoyed looking at, but her close-fitting necklace still dangled that small, jeweled knife onto her impressive bosom. She closed her book and gave him a small nod as if he had returned to the Wandering Woman after an absence of a few hours. Her hazel eyes were quite composed. Perhaps the plot was even more intricate than the Seeker Mor had thought.A tall, lean white-haired man with mustaches nearly as long as Hartha's was sitting cross-legged on a striped blanket across a stones board from a slender woman with her hair in many beaded braids. He quirked an eyebrow at Karede, shook his head and returned to perusing the crosshatched board. She glared pure hatred at Karede and those behind him. A gnarled old fellow with long white hair was lying on another blanket with a remarkably ugly young boy, playing some game or other on a piece of red cloth spiderwebbed with black lines. They sat up, the boy studying the Ogier with interest, the man with one hand hovering as if to reach for a knife beneath his coat. A dangerous man, and wary. Perhaps he was Merrilin.Two men and two women sitting together on camp stools had been conversing when Karede rode up, but as he was stepping down, a stern-faced woman stood and fixed her blue eyes on his in very nearly a challenge. She wore a sword on a wide leather strap slanting across her chest, the way some sailors did. Her hair was close-cropped rather than cut in the style of the low Blood, her fingernails were short and none were lacquered, but he was certain she was Egeanin Tamarath. A heavy-set man with hair as short as hers and one of those odd Illianer beards stood beside her, one hand on the hilt of a shortsword, staring at Karede as if he intended to second her challenge. A pretty woman with dark, waist-long hair and the same rosebud mouth as the Tarab.o.n.e.r stood, and for a moment it seemed she might kneel or prostrate herself, but then she straightened and looked him right in the eyes. The last man, a lean fellow in a peculiar red cap who looked carved from dark wood, gave a loud laugh and flung his arms around her. The grinning stare he gave Karede could only be called triumphant."Thom," Delovinde said, "this is Furyk Karede. He wants to talk with a man who 'calls himself Thom Merrilin.""With me?" the lean, white-haired man said, rising awkwardly. His right leg appeared slightly stiff. An old battle injury, perhaps? "But I don't 'call myself' Thom Merrilin. It's my name, though I'm surprised you know it. What do you want of me?"Karede removed his helmet, but before he could open his mouth, a pretty woman with large brown eyes rushed up, pursued by two others. All three had those Aes Sedai faces, one minute looking twenty, the next twice that, the third somewhere in the middle. It was very disconcerting."That's Sheraine!" the pretty woman cried, staring at Mylen. "Release her!""You do no understand, Joline," one of the women with her said angrily. Thin-lipped, with a narrow nose, she looked as if she could chew rocks. "She do no be Sheraine any longer. She would have betrayed us, given a chance.""Teslyn is right, Joline," the third woman said. Handsome rather than pretty, she had long black hair that fell in waves to her waist. "She would have betrayed us.""I don't believe it, Edesina," Joline snapped. "You will free her immediately," she told Melitene, "or I'll-" Suddenly she gasped."I did tell you," Teslyn said bitterly.A young man in a wide-brimmed black hat galloped up on a dark, blunt-nosed chestnut with a deep chest and flung himself out of the saddle. "What's b.l.o.o.d.y going on here?" he demanded, striding up to the fire.Karede ignored him. The High Lady Tuon had ridden up with the young man, on a black-and-white horse with markings like none he had ever seen. Selucia was at her side, on a dun, her head wrapped in a scarlet scarf, but he had eyes only for the High Lady. Short black hair covered her head, but he could never mistake that face. She spared him only one expressionless glance before returning to a study of the young man. Karede wondered whether she recognized him. Probably not. It had been a long time since he had served in her bodyguard. He did not look over his shoulder, but he knew that the reins of Ajimbura's chestnut were now held by one of the Guards. Apparently unarmed and his distinctive braid gone, he should have no problem leaving the camp. The sentries would never see the little man. Ajimbura was a good runner as well as stealthy. Soon, Musenge would know that the High Lady was indeed here."She has us shielded, Mat," Joline said, and the young man s.n.a.t.c.hed off his hat and strode to Melitene's horse as if he intended to seize the bridle. He was long-limbed, though he could not be called tall, and he wore a black silk scarf tied around his neck and dangling onto his chest. That made him the one everyone had called Tylin's Toy, as if being the queen's plaything were the most important feature of him. Likely it was. Playthings seldom had another side to them. Strange, but he hardly seemed handsome enough for that. He did look fit, though."Release the shield," he told her as if he expected obedience. Karede's eyebrows rose. This was the plaything? Melitene and Mylen gasped almost as one, and the young man barked a laugh. "You see, it doesn't work on me. Now you b.l.o.o.d.y well release the shields, or I'll b.l.o.o.d.y well haul you out of the saddle and paddle your bottoms."Melitene's face darkened. Few people dared speak so to a der'sul'dam. "Release the shields, Melitene," Karede said."The marath'damane was on the point of embracing saidar," she said instead of obeying. "There's no telling what she might have-""Release the shields," he said firmly. "And release the Power."The young man gave a satisfied nod, then suddenly spun, pointing a finger at the three Aes Sedai. "Now don't you b.l.o.o.d.y well start! She's let go of the Power. You do it, too. Go ahead!" Again he nodded, for all the world as if he was sure they had obeyed. From the way Melitene was staring at him, perhaps he was. Maybe he was an Asha'man? Perhaps Asha'man could detect a damane's channeling somehow. That hardly seemed likely, but it was all Karede could think of. Yet that hardly squared with how Tylin reportedly had treated the young man."One of these days, Mat Cauthon," Joline said acidly, "someone will teach you to show proper respect to Aes Sedai, and I hope I am there to see it."The High Lady and Selucia laughed uproariously. It was good to see she had managed to keep her spirits up in captivity. Doubtless her maid's companionship had helped. But it was time to get on, too. Time to take his mad gamble."General Merrilin," Karede said, "you fought a short but remarkable campaign and achieved miracles at keeping your forces undetected, but your luck is about to run out. General Chisen deduced your real purpose. He has turned his army around and is marching for the Malvide Narrows as fast as he can. He will be here in two days. I have ten thousand men not far from here, enough to pin you until he arrives. But the High Lady Tuon would be in danger, and I want to avoid that. Let me leave with her, and I will allow you and your men to depart unhindered. You can be well the other side of the mountains, into the Molvaine Gap, before Chisen arrives, and into Murandy before he can catch you. The only other choice is annihilation. Chisen has enough men to wipe you out. It won't be a battle. A hundred thousand men against eight thousand will be a slaughter."They heard him out, every face as blank as if they were stunned. They schooled themselves well. Or perhaps they were stunned at Merrilin's plan apparently unraveling at the last instant.Merrilin stroked one of his white mustaches with a long finger. He seemed to hiding a smile. "I fear you have mistaken me, Banner-General Karede." For the s.p.a.ce of a sentence his voice became extremely resonant. "I am a gleeman, a position higher than court-bard to be sure, but no general. The man you want is Lord Matrim Cauthon." He made a small bow toward the young man, who was settling his flat-topped hat back on his head.Karede frowned. Tylin's Toy was the general? Were they playing a game with him?"You have about a hundred men, Deathwatch Guards, and maybe twenty Gardeners," Cauthon said calmly. "From what I hear, that could make an even fight against five times their number for most soldiers, but the Band aren't most soldiers, and I have a sight more than six hundred. As for Chisen, if that's the fellow who pulled back through the Narrows, even if he has figured out what I was up to, he couldn't get back in less than five days. My scouts' last reports had him pushing southwest along the Ebou Dar Road as fast he could march. The real question is this, though. Can you get Tuon to the Tarasin Palace safely?"Karede felt as if Hartha had kicked him in the belly, and not only because the man had used the High Lady's name so casually. "You mean to let me take her away?" he said incredulously."If she trusts you. If you can get her to the palace safely. She's in danger till she reaches that. In case you don't know it, your whole b.l.o.o.d.y Ever Victorious flaming Army is ready to slit her throat or bash in her head with a rock.""I know," Karede said, more calmly than he felt. Why would this man just release the High Lady after the White Tower had gone to all the trouble of kidnapping her? Why, after fighting that short, b.l.o.o.d.y campaign? "We will die to the man if that is what is needed to see her safe. It will be best if we set out immediately." Before the man changed his mind. Before Karede woke from this fever-dream. It surely seemed a fever-dream."Not so fast." Cauthon turned toward the High Lady. "Tuon, do you trust this man to see you safe to the palace in Ebou Dar?" Karede stifled an impulse to wince. General and lord the man might be, but he had no right to use the High Lady's name so!"I trust the Deathwatch Guards with my life," the High Lady replied calmly, "and him more than any other." She favored Karede with a smile. Even as a child, smiles from her had been rare. "Do you by any chance still have my doll, Banner-General Karede?"He bowed to her formally. The manner of her speaking told him she was still under the veil. "Forgiveness, High Lady. I lost everything in the Great Fire of Sohima.""That means you kept it for ten years. You have my commiseration on the loss of your wife, and of your son, though he died bravely and well. Few men will enter a burning building once. He saved five people before he was overcome."Karede's throat tightened. She had followed news of him. All he could do was bow again, more deeply."Enough of that," Cauthon muttered. "You're going to knock your head on the ground if you keep that up. As soon as she and Selucia can get their things together, you take them out of here and ride hard. Talmanes, roust the Band. It isn't that I don't trust you, Karede, but I think I'll sleep easier beyond the Narrows.""Matrim Cauthon is my husband," the High Lady said in a loud, clear voice. Everyone froze where they stood. "Matrim Cauthon is my husband."Karede felt as if Hartha had kicked him again. No, not Hartha. Aldazar. What madness was this? Cauthon looked like a man watching an arrow fly toward his face, knowing he had no chance to dodge."b.l.o.o.d.y Matrim Cauthon is my husband. That is the wording you used, is it not?" This had to be a fever-dream. It took a minute before Mat could speak. Burn him, it seemed to take a b.l.o.o.d.y hour before he could move. When he could, he s.n.a.t.c.hed off his hat, strode to Tuon and seized the razor's bridle. She looked down at him, cool as any queen on a b.l.o.o.d.y throne. All those battles with the flaming dice rattling away in his head, all those skirmishes and raids, and they had to stop when she said a few words. Well, at least this time he knew what had happened that was b.l.o.o.d.y fateful for Mat b.l.o.o.d.y Cauthon. "Why? I mean, I knew you were going to sooner or later, but why now? I like you, maybe more than like you, and I enjoy kissing you," he thought Karede grunted, "but you haven't behaved like a woman in love. You're ice half the time and spend most of the rest digging under my skin.""Love?" Tuon sounded surprised. "Perhaps we will come to love one another, Matrim, but I have always known I would marry to serve the Empire. What do you mean, you knew that I was going to speak the words?""Call me Mat." Only his mother had ever called him Matrim, when he was in trouble, and his sisters when they were carrying tales to get him in trouble."Your name is Matrim. What did you mean?"He sighed. The woman never wanted much. Just her own way. Like just about every other woman he had ever known. "I went through a ter'angreal to somewhere else, another world maybe. The people there aren't really people-they look like snakes-but they'll answer three questions for you, and their answers are always true. One of mine was that I'd marry the Daughter of the Nine Moons. But you haven't answered my question. Why now?"A faint smile on her lips, Tuon leaned down from her saddle. And rapped him hard on the top of his head with her knuckles! "Your superst.i.tions are bad enough, Matrim, but I won't tolerate lies. An amusing lie, true, but still a lie.""It's the Light's own truth," he protested, clapping his hat on. Maybe it would give him some protection. "You could learn for yourself if you could make yourself talk to an Aes Sedai. They could tell you about the Aelfinn and the Eelfinn.""It could be the truth," Edesina piped up as if she were being helpful. "The Aelfinn can be reached through a ter'angreal in the Stone of Tear, so I understand, and supposedly they give true answers."Mat glared at her. A fat lot of help she was, with her "so I understands" and "supposedlies." Tuon continued to stare at him as if Edesina had not opened her mouth. "I answered your question, Tuon, so you answer mine.""You know that damane can tell fortunes?" She gave him a stern look, likely expecting him to call it superst.i.tion, but he nodded curtly. Some Aes Sedai could Foretell the future. Why not a damane? "I asked Lidya to tell mine just before I landed at Ebou Dar. This is what she said. 'Beware the fox that makes the ravens fly, for he will marry you and carry you away. Beware the man who remembers Hawkwing's face, for he will marry you and set you free. Beware the man of the red hand, for him you will marry and none other.' It was your ring that caught my eye first." He thumbed the long ring unconsciously, and she smiled. A small smile, but a smile. "A fox apparently startling two ravens into flight and nine crescent moons. Suggestive, wouldn't you say? And just now you fulfilled the second part, so I knew for certain it was you." Selucia made a sound in her throat, and Tuon waggled fingers at her. The bosomy little woman subsided, adjusting her head scarf, but the look she shot at Mat should have been accompanied by a dagger in her hand.He laughed mirthlessly. Blood and b.l.o.o.d.y ashes. The ring was a carver's try-piece, bought only because it stuck on his finger; he would give up those memories of Hawkwing's face along with every other old memory, if it would get the b.l.o.o.d.y snakes out of his head; and yet those things had gained him a wife. The Band of the Red Hand would never have existed without those old memories of battles."Seems to me being ta'veren works on me as much as it does on anybody else." For a moment, he thought she was going to rap him again. He gave her his best smile. "One more kiss before you leave?""I'm not in the mood at the moment," she said coolly. That hanging magistrate was back. All prisoners to be condemned immediately. "Perhaps later. You could return to Ebou Dar with me. You have an honored place in the Empire, now."He did not hesitate before shaking his head. There was no honored place waiting for Leilwin or Domon, no place at all for the Aes Sedai or the Band. "The next time I see Seanchan, I expect it will be on the field somewhere, Tuon." Burn him, it would be. His life seemed to run that way no matter what he did. "You're not my enemy, but your Empire is.""Nor are you my enemy, husband," she said coolly, "but I live to serve the Empire.""Well, I suppose you'd better get your things. . . ." He trailed off at the sound of a cantering horse approaching.Vanin reined in a rangy gray beside Tuon, eyed Karede and the other Deathwatch Guards, then spat through a gap in his teeth and leaned on the high pommel of his saddle. "There's ten thousand or so soldiers at a little town about five miles west of here," the fat man told Mat. "Only one man Seanchan, near as I could learn. Rest are Altarans, Tarab.o.n.e.rs, Amadicians. All mounted. Thing is, they're asking after fellows wearing armor like that." He nodded toward Karede. "And rumor says the one of them that kills a girl that sounds a lot like the High Lady gets himself a hundred thousand crowns gold. Their mouths are dripping for it.""I can slip past them," Karede said. His bluff face looked fatherly. His voice sounded like a drawn sword."And if you can't?" Mat asked quietly. "It can't be chance they're this close. They've caught some sniff of you. One more smell might be all it takes to kill Tuon."Karede's face darkened. "Do you intend to go back on your word?" A drawn blade that might be used soon. Worse, Tuon was watching, looking at Mat like that hanging magistrate in truth. Burn him, if she died, something would shrivel up inside him. And the only way to stop it, to be sure it was stopped, was to do what he hated worse than work. Once, he had thought that fighting battles, much as he hated it, was still better than work. Near enough nine hundred dead in the s.p.a.ce of a few days had changed his mind."No," he said. "She goes with you. But you leave me a dozen of your Deathwatch Guards and some of the Gardeners. If I'm going to take these people off your back, I need them to think I'm you."Tuon abandoned most of the clothing Matrim had bought for her, since she would need to travel light. The little cl.u.s.ter of red silk rosebuds he had given her she tucked away in her saddlebags, folded in a linen cloth, as carefully as if they were blown gla.s.s. She had no farewells to make except for Mistress Anan-she really would miss their discussions-so she and Selucia were ready to ride quickly. Mylen smiled so broadly at the sight of her that she had to pat the little damane. It seemed that word of what had happened had spread, because as they rode through the camp with the Deathwatch Guards, men of the Band stood and bowed to her. It was very like reviewing regiments in Seandar."What do you make of him?" she asked Karede once they were away from the soldiers and beginning to canter. There was no need to say which "he" she meant."It is not my place to make judgments, High Lady," he said gravely. His head swivelled, keeping watch on the surrounding trees. "I serve the Empire and the Empress, may she live forever.""As do we all, Banner-General. But I ask your judgment.""A good general, High Lady," he replied without hesitation. "Brave, but not overly brave. He won't get himself killed just to show how brave he is, I think. And he is . . . adaptable. A man of many layers. And if you will forgive me, High Lady, a man in love with you. I saw how he looked at you."In love with her? Perhaps. She thought she might be able to come to love him. Her mother had loved her father, it was said. And a man of many layers? Matrim Cauthon made an onion look like an apple! She rubbed a hand over her head. She still was not accustomed to the feel of hair on her head. "I will need a razor first thing.""It may be best to wait until Ebou Dar, High Lady.""No," she said gently. "If I die, I will die as who I am. I have removed the veil.""As you say, Highness." Smiling, he saluted, gauntleted fist striking over his heart hard enough that steel clanged on steel. "If we die, we will die as who we are."

CHAPTER 37

Prince of the Ravens

Leaning on the tall pommel of his saddle, ashandarei slanted across Pips' neck, Mat frowned at the sky. The sun was well past its noon height. If Vanin and those Deathwatch Guards did not return soon, he might find himself fighting a battle with the sun in the crossbowmen's eyes, or worse, in twilight. Worst of all, dark clouds loomed over the mountains to the east. The gusting wind was out of the north. No help there. Rain would put the weasel in the henyard. Bowstrings fared poorly in rain. Well, any rain was a few hours off, with luck, but he had never noticed his luck saving him from getting soaked in a downpour. He had not dared wait until tomorrow. Those fellows hunting Tuon might have gotten another whiff of Karede's men, and then he would have had to try attacking them, or laying an ambush, and carry it out before they could catch Karede. Better to have them come to him, at a place of his choosing. Finding the proper spot had not been difficult, between Master Roidelle's collection of maps on the one hand and Vanin and the other scouts on the other.Aludra was fussing over one of her tall, metal-bound lofting tubes, beaded braids hiding her face as she examined something at the broad wooden base. He wished she had been willing to remain with the pack animals like Thom and Mistress Anan. Even Noal had been willing to stay, if only to help Juilin and Amathera make sure Olver did not run off to watch the battle. The boy was dead eager, which could soon lead to plain dead. Matters had been bad enough when only Harnan and the other three had been corrupting Olver, but now he had half the men teaching him how to use a sword or dagger or fight with his hands and feet, and apparently filling his head with tales of heroes from the way he had been behaving, begging to go on raids with Mat and the like. Aludra was near as bad. Anybody could have used one of those strikers to light the fuse once she had loaded that tube, but she insisted on doing it herself. She was a fierce woman, Aludra was, and none too pleased at finding herself on the same side as Seanchan, however temporary the arrangement was. It seemed wrong to her that they would see some of her handiwork without being on the receiving end. Leilwin and Domon sat their horses nearby keeping an eye on her, as much to make sure she did nothing foolish as to protect her. Mat hoped Leilwin did nothing foolish herself. Since there was apparently only one Seanchan with the people they would fight today, she had decided it was all right to be there, and the way she glared at Musenge and the other Deathwatch Guards, it seemed she might think she had something to prove to them.The three Aes Sedai, standing together with their reins in hand, cast dark looks at the Seanchan, too, as did Blaeric and Fen, who caressed their sword hilts perhaps unconsciously. Joline and her two Warders had been the only ones aghast at Sheraine's willing departure with Tuon-what an Aes Sedai felt on any subject was usually how her Warders felt on it, too-but the memory of being leashed had to be too fresh for Edesina or Teslyn to feel comfortable around Seanchan soldiers. Bethamin and Seta stood very meekly, hands folded at their waists, a little apart from the sisters. Bethamin's light-colored bay nudged her shoulder with his nose, and the tall, dark woman half reached up to stroke the animal before s.n.a.t.c.hing her hand back down and resuming her humble pose. They still would take no part. Joline and Edesina had made that plain, yet it seemed they wanted the two women under their eyes to make sure of it. The Seanchan women plainly were looking at anything but the Seanchan soldiers. For that matter, Bethamin, Seta and Leilwin might as well not have existed for all of Musenge and that lot. Burn him, there were so many tensions in the air he could almost feel that hanging rope around his neck again.Pips stamped a hoof, impatient at standing in one place so long, and Mat patted his neck then scratched the scar forming on his own jaw. Tuon's ointments had stung as badly as she had said they would, but they worked. His new collection of scars did itch yet, though. Tuon. His wife. He was married! He had known it was coming, had known for a long time, but just the same. . . . Married. He should have felt . . . different . . . somehow, but he still felt like himself. He intended to keep it that way, burn him if he did not! If Tuon expected Mat Cauthon to settle down, to give up gambling or some such, she had another think coming. He supposed he would have to give over chasing after women, much less catching them, but he would still enjoy dancing with them. And looking at them. Just not when he was with her. Burn him if he knew when that would be. He was not about to go anywhere she had the upper hand, her and her talk of cupbearers and running grooms and marrying to serve the Empire. How was marrying him supposed to serve the flaming Empire?Musenge left the other ten men and five Ogier in red-and-black armor and trotted his black gelding up to Mat. The horse had good lines, built for speed and endurance both, as far as Mat could tell without a thorough examination. Musenge looked built for endurance, a stocky, stolid man, his face worn but hard, his eyes like polished stones. "Forgiveness, Highness," he drawled, banging a gauntleted fist against his breastplate, "but shouldn't the men be back to work?" He slurred his words worse than Selucia, almost to unintelligibility. "Their rest break has stretched a long time. I doubt they can complete the wall before the traitor arrives as it is." Mat had wondered how long it would take him to mention that. He had expected it earlier.Open-faced helmets off but breastplates strapped on, the crossbow-men were sitting on the ground behind a long curving wall, perhaps a third of a circle made of earth thrown up out of the four-foot deep trench fronting it, with a thicket of sharpened stakes driven into the ground in front of that and extending a little beyond the ends of the trench. They had finished that in short order. Infantry needed to be as handy with shovel, mattock and axe as they were with weapons. Even cavalry did, but making hors.e.m.e.n believe was harder. Footmen knew it was better to have something between you and the enemy if you could.The tools lay scattered along the trench, now. Some of the men were dicing, others just taking their ease, even napping. Soldiers slept any chance they got. A few were reading books, of all things. Reading! Mandevwin moved among them, fingering his eyepatch and now and then bending to say a few words to a bannerman. The only lancer present, standing beside his horse, every line of him saying he had nothing to do with the crossbowmen, held no lance, but rather a long banner-staff cased for half its length in leather.It was perfect terrain for what Mat had in mind. Near two miles of gra.s.sy meadow dotted with wildflowers and a few low bushes stretched from the wall to the tall trees at the western end. To the north was a blackwater swamp, full of oaks and odd, white-flowering trees that seemed half thick roots, with a lake clinging to its western edge and forest below the lake. A small river flowed south out of the swamp, half a mile behind Mat, before curving away to the west on his left. A small river, but wide enough and deep enough that horses would have to swim it. The far bank lay beyond bowshot. There was only one way for any attacker to get at the wall. Come straight for it."When they arrive, I don't want them stopping to count how many men in red and black are here," he replied. Musenge winced slightly for some reason. "I want them to see an unfinished wall and tools thrown down because we learned they were close. The promise of a hundred thousand crowns gold has to have their blood up, but I want them too excited to think straight. They'll see us vulnerable, our defenses incomplete, and with any luck, they'll rush in straight away. They'll figure close to half of them will die when we loose, but that will just raise the chances for one of the others to get that gold. They'll only expect us to manage one volley." He slapped his hands together, and Pips shifted. "Then the trap closes.""Still, Highness, I wish we had more of your crossbowmen. I've heard you may have as many as thirty thousand." Musenge had heard him tell Tuon he would fight the Seanchan, too. The man was probing for information."I have fewer than I did." Mat said with a grimace. His victories had hardly been bloodless, only remarkably close to it. Near four hundred crossbowmen lay in Altaran graves, and close to five hundred of the cavalry. A small enough butcher's bill, considering, yet he liked it best when the butcher presented no bill. "But what I have is enough for the day.""As you say, Highness." Musenge's voice was so neutral he could have been commenting on the price of beans. Strange. He did not look like a diffident man. "I have always been ready to die for her." There was no need for him to say which "her" he meant."I guess I am, too, Musenge." Light, he thought he meant that! Yes, he did mean it. Did that mean he was in love? "Better to live for her, though, wouldn't you say?""Should you not be donning your armor, Highness?""I don't intend getting close enough to the fighting to need armor. A general who draws his sword has put aside his baton and become a common soldier."He was only quoting Comadrin again-he seemed to do that a lot when discussing soldiering, but then, the man had known just about everything there was to know about the craft-just quoting, yet it appeared to impress the weathered man, who saluted him again and asked b.l.o.o.d.y permission before riding back to his men. Mat was tempted to ask what that "Highness" foolishness was about. Likely it was just some Seanchan way of calling him a lord, but he had not heard anything like it in Ebou Dar, and he had been surrounded by Seanchan there.Five figures appeared out of the forest at the foot of the meadow, and he did not need a looking gla.s.s to know them. The two Ogier in armor striped bright red and black would have told him even if Vanin's bulk had not. The mounted men were at a flat gallop, yet the Ogier kept pace, long arms swinging, axes swinging like a sawmill's drive-shaft."Sling-men get ready!" Mat shouted. "Everybody else go pick up a shovel!" The appearance had to be just right.As most of the crossbowmen scattered to pick up tools and make a show of working on the trench and wall, fifty others strapped on their helmets and lined up in front of Aludra. Tall men, they still carried the shortswords they called cat-gutters, but instead of crossbows, they were armed with four-foot long sling-staffs. He would have liked more than fifty, but Aludra only had so much of her powders. Each man wore a cloth belt sewn with pockets slung across his breastplate, and each pocket held a stubby leather cylinder larger than a man's fist with a short length of dark fuse sticking out of the end. Aludra had not come up with a fancy name for them yet. She would, though. She was one for fancy names. Dragons, and dragons' eggs.One by one the men held up long pieces of slow-match for her to light with a striker. She did it quickly, using each striker until the long wooden stick had burned down nearly to her fingertips, but she never winced, just dropped the thing and lit another while telling the sling-men to be faster, she was getting low on strikers. Light, but she was tight with the things. She had five more boxes that Mat knew of. As each man turned away from her, he put the smoking slow-match between his teeth and secured one of the cylinders to his sling-staff as he walked to the wall. There were wide intervals between sling-men. They had to cover the whole length of the wall."Time to get your people in place, Musenge," Mat said loudly.The Deathwatch Guards formed a single line abreast with the Gardeners on the end. Anybody who took one glance through a looking gla.s.s would know what they were. Light, all they needed was to see Ogier in armor and the sun glinting off all that red and black. And if they stopped to think how few of the Guards there were, they would still see they had Mat outnumbered, and there would be only one way to find out whether Tuon was with him.Vanin galloped behind the wall, flung himself out of the saddle and immediately began walking his lathered dun to cool the animal down. As soon as he pa.s.sed the wall, crossbowmen began dropping the tools and running to put on helmets and pick up crossbows. Those had been laid so that the men formed three s.p.a.ced ranks with gaps where the sling-men stood. It no longer mattered if anyone was watching from the forest. What they saw would seem natural.Mat trotted Pips to Vanin and dismounted. The two human Deathwatch Guards and the two Ogier went to join the others. The horses' nostrils flared with their heavy breathing, but the Ogier were panting no harder. One was Hartha, a stone-eyed fellow who apparently ranked very close to Musenge.Vanin scowled at the men who had not gotten down to walk their horses. A horsethief he might be, reformed or not, but he disliked mistreating horseflesh. "They went up like one of her nightflowers when they glimpsed us," he said, nodding toward Aludra. "We made sure they got a good look at that fancy armor, then high-tailed it as soon as they started getting mounted. They're coming hard behind us. Harder than they should." He spat on the ground. "I didn't get a good look at their animals, but I doubt they're all good for that run. Some'll founder before they get here.""The more the better," Mat said. "The fewer who make it, the better in my book." All he needed was to give Tuon a day or two head start on them, and if that came from their ruining horses, if they rode out of the trees and decided he had too many men to take on, he would take that over a battle any day. After today's six-mile gallop, they would need to rest their horses a few days before they were fit to travel any distance at all. Vanin directed that scowl at him. Others might go around calling him my Lord and Highness, but not Chel Vanin.Mat laughed and clapped him on the shoulder before swinging back into Pips' saddle. It was good there was someone who did not think he was a fool n.o.ble, or at least, did not care whether or not he was. He rode to join the Aes Sedai, who were mounted now.Blaeric and Fen, the one on a bay gelding, the other on a black, gave him stares almost as dark as those they had directed at Musenge. They still suspected he had something to do with what had happened to Joline. He thought of telling Fen that his stub of a topknot looked ridiculous. Fen shifted in his saddle and stroked his sword hilt. Then again, maybe not.". . . . what I told you," Joline was telling Bethamin and Seta, shaking an admonitory finger. Her dark bay gelding looked a war-horse, but was not. The animal had a good turn of speed, yet its temperament was mild as milk-water. "If you even think about embracing saidar, you'll regret it."Teslyn grunted sourly. She patted her white-faced chestnut mare, a much more feisty creature than Joline's mount, and spoke to the air. "She does train wilders and expects them to behave once out of her sight. Or perhaps she does think the Tower will accept over-age novices." Spots of color appeared in Joline's cheeks, but she straightened in her saddle without saying anything. As usual when those two got into a conflict, Edesina concentrated on something else, in this case brushing imaginary dust from her divided skirts. Enough tension to choke on.Suddenly riders poured out of the trees at the far end of the meadow in a torrent that swelled into a spreading lake of steel-tipped lances as they drew rein, no doubt in surprise at what lay before them; it seemed that not as many horses had foundered as Mat had hoped for. Pulling the looking gla.s.s from its scabbard tied to his saddle's pommel, he raised it to his eye. The Tarab.o.n.e.rs were easy to pick out, with mail veils hiding their faces to the eyes, but the others wore every sort of helmet, rounded or conical, with face-bars and without. He even saw a few ridged Tairen helmets, though that did not mean there were Tairens among them. Most men used whatever armor they could find. Don't think, he thought. The woman is here. That hundred thousand gold crowns is waiting. Don't b.l.o.o.d.y-A shrill Seanchan bugle sounded, thin with the distance, and the hors.e.m.e.n began advancing at a walk, already spreading out to extend beyond the wall's edges."Uncase the banner, Macoll," Mat ordered. So these flaming sons of goats thought they were coming to murder Tuon, did they? "This time, we'll let them know who's killing them. Mandevwin, you have the command."Mandevwin turned his bay to face front. "Stand ready!" he shouted, and under-officers and bannermen echoed the cry.Macoll pulled the leather case off, carefully fastening it to his saddle, and the banner streamed on the wind, a red-fringed white square with a large, open red hand in the center, and beneath it, embroidered in red, the words Dovie'andi se tovya sagain.It's time to toss the dice, Mat thought, translating. And so it was. He saw Musenge eyeing it. He seemed very calm for a man with ten thousand lances coming toward him. "Are you ready, Aludra?" Mat called."Of course I am ready," she replied. "I only wish I had my dragons!" Musenge shifted his attention to her. Burn her, she needed to watch her tongue! Mat wanted those dragons to be a shock when the Seanchan first faced them.Perhaps twelve hundred paces from the wall, the ranks of lancers began to trot, and at six hundred they began to gallop, but not as hard as they might have. Those horses were tired after a long run already. They lumbered. None of the lances had come down, yet. They would not until the last hundred paces. Some of those carried streamers that floated behind them in the air, a large knot of red here, a clump of green or blue there. They might have been House colors, or perhaps they marked mercenary companies. All those hooves made a noise like distant thunder rolling."Aludra!" Mat shouted without looking back. A hollow thump and an acrid sulphur smell announced the lofting tube sending its nightflower aloft, and a loud pop the blooming of a ball of red streaks overhead. Some of the galloping hors.e.m.e.n pointed to it as if in amazement. None looked behind them to see Talmanes leading the three banners of horse out of the forest below the lake. Their lances had been left with the pack animals, but every man would have his horsebow out. Spreading out in a single line, they began following the galloping riders, increasing speed as they came. Their horses had been ridden far last night, but not pressed too hard, and they had been rested all morning. The distance between the two groups of riders began to narrow."Front rank!" Mandevwin shouted when the hors.e.m.e.n were four hundred paces away. "Loose!" Above a thousand bolts flashed out, dark streaks in the air. Immediately the front rank bent to fasten their cranks to their crossbows and the second rank raised their weapons. "Second rank!" Mandevwin shouted. "Loose!" Another thousand quarrels streaked for the oncoming hors.e.m.e.n.At that range, they could not punch through a breastplate despite heads designed to do just that, but men with shattered legs toppled from their saddles and men with ruined arms reined in frantically to try stemming the flow of blood. And the horses. . . . Ah, Light, the poor horses. Horses fell by the hundreds, some kicking and screaming, struggling to stand, others not moving at all, many of them tripping more animals. Catapulted riders tumbled across the meadow gra.s.s until they were trampled by the riders behind."Third rank! Loose!" Mandevwin shouted, and as soon as those bolts were away, the front rank straightened. "Front rank!" Mandevwin called. "Loose!" And another thousand bolts added to the carnage. "Second rank! Loose!"It was not so one-sided as an ambush, of course. Some of the galloping hors.e.m.e.n had flung down their lances and uncased their horsebows. Arrows began to fall among the crossbowmen. Shooting accurately from a galloping horse was no easy task, and the range was too far at the start for the arrows to kill, but more than one man struggled to work his crossbow with a shaft jutting from an arm. The wall protected their legs, yet. Too far to kill unless your target's luck had run out.Mat saw a man fall with an arrow in his eye, another with a shaft taken in the throat. There were other gaps in the ranks, as well. Men shuffled forward quickly to fill them. "You could join in any time, Joline," he said."Third rank! Loose!"The Aes Sedai shook her head irritably. "I must be in danger. I don't feel in danger yet." Teslyn nodded. She was watching the charge as if it were a parade, and a not very interesting one at that."If you would allow Seta and me," Bethamin began, but Joline looked over her shoulder coldly, and the Seanchan woman subsided and dropped her eyes to her hands on the reins. Seta smiled nervously, but it slid off her face under Joline's stare."Front rank! Loose!"Mat rolled his eyes to the heavens and muttered a prayer that was half curse. The b.l.o.o.d.y women did not feel in danger! He felt as though his b.l.o.o.d.y head was on the chopping block!"Second rank! Loose!'Talmanes had come in range, now, and announced himself with a volley from four thousand bows at three hundred paces that cleared saddles. Closing the distance, they fired again. Again. The enemy ranks seemed to ripple with the shock. Some men whirled about and charged at Talmanes' line with lances coming down. Others began returning his hail of arrows with their own. Most continued on, though."Form square!" Mandevwin shouted a heartbeat before Mat could. He hoped the man had not left it too b.l.o.o.d.y late.The Band was well-trained, though. The men on the flanks fell back at the run, as calmly as if arrows were not pelting them, clanging off breastplates and helmets. And sometimes not. Men fell. The three ranks never lost cohesion, though, as they bent into a hollow box with Mat at its center. Musenge and the other human Deathwatch Guards had their swords out, and the Ogier were hefting their long axes."Sling-men!" Mandevwin shouted. "Loose at will! Front rank, west! Loose!" Sling-men along the western rank shifted their sling-staffs so they could touch the fuses coming from the stubby cylinders to the slow-matches held in their teeth and, as the volley lanced out from the crossbows, whipped their slings back and then forward. The dark cylinders flew more than a hundred paces to land among the on-rushing hors.e.m.e.n. The sling-men were already fitting more of the cylinders to their slings before the first fell. Aludra had marked each fuse with pieces of thread to indicate different burning times, and each cylinder erupted with a roar in a burst of flame, some on the ground, some as high as a mounted man's head. The explosion was not the real weapon, though a man struck in the face was suddenly headless. He stayed upright in the saddle for three strides before toppling. No, Aludra had wrapped a layer of hard pebbles around the powder inside each cylinder, and those pierced flesh deeply when they hit. Shrieking horses fell to thrash on the ground. Riders fell to lie still.An arrow tugged at Mat's left sleeve, another pierced his right sleeve, only the fletchings keeping it from going through cleanly, and a third ripped open the right shoulder of his coat. He put a finger behind the scarf around his neck and tugged. The b.l.o.o.d.y thing felt awfully tight of a sudden. Maybe he should consider wearing armor at times like this. The enemy flanks were beginning to curl in, now, preparing to envelop the crossbowmen behind the wall. Talmanes' men still peppered their rear with arrows, but several hundred men had been forced to drop their bows to defend themselves with swords, and it was unlikely that all of the horses with empty saddles out there had belonged to Tarab.o.n.e.rs or Amadicians. He had left a gap in the center of his line, a path for anyone who decided to flee, yet no one was taking the offering. They could smell that hundred thousand crowns gold."I think," Joline said slowly. "Yes. I feel in danger, now." Teslyn simply drew back her hand and threw a sphere of fire larger than a horse's head. The explosion hurled dirt and pieces of men and horses into the air. It was about b.l.o.o.d.y time!Facing in three directions, the Aes Sedai began hurling fireb.a.l.l.s as fast as they could swing their arms, but the devastation they wrought did nothing to slow the attack. Those men should have been able to see there was no woman matching Tuon's description inside the square by this time, but their blood was no doubt on fire, the scent of riches in their nostrils. A man could live the rest of his life like a n.o.ble with a hundred thousand crowns gold. The square was encircled, and they fought to close on it, fought and died as volleys from the crossbows lashed them and sling-men killed them. Another wall began to rise, made of dead and dying men and horses, a wall that some tried to ride over and joined in the attempt. More scrambled down from their saddles and tried to clamber over. Crossbow bolts hurled them back. This close, bolts penetrated breastplates like hot knives going into b.u.t.ter. On they came, and died.The silence seemed to come suddenly. Not quite silence. The air was full of the sound of panting men who had been working those cranks as fast as they could. And there was moaning from the wounded. A horse was still shrieking, somewhere. But Mat could see no one on his feet between the wall of dead and Talmanes, no one in the saddle except men in green helmets and breastplates. Men who had lowered their bows and swords. The Aes Sedai folded their hands on the high pommels of their saddles. They were breathing hard, too."It is done, Mat!" came Talmanes' shout. "Those who are not dead are dying. Not one of the fools tried to escape."Mat shook his head. He had expected them to be half-mad with the l.u.s.t for gold. They had been completely mad with it.It would be necessary to haul away dead men and horses for Mat and the others to get out, and Talmanes set men to work, fastening ropes to horses to drag them aside. No one wanted to climb over that. No one but the Ogier."I want to see if I can find the traitor," Hartha said, and he and the other six Gardeners shouldered their axes and walked over the mound of bodies as if it were dirt."Well, at least we settled this," Joline said, patting her face with a lace-edged handkerchief. Sweat dotted her forehead. "You owe a debt, Mat. Aes Sedai do not become involved in private wars as a rule. I shall have to think on how you can pay it." Mat had a pretty good idea what she would come up with. She was mad herself if she thought he would agree."Crossbows settled this, marath'damane," Musenge said. His helmet, breastplate and coat were off, his left shirt-sleeve ripped away so one of the other Guards could wrap a bandage around where an arrow had gone through. The sleeve had come away very neatly, as if the st.i.tching had been weak. He had a raven tattooed on his shoulder. "Crossbows and men with heart. You never had more than this, did you, Highness." That was not a question. "This and whatever losses you suffered.""I told you," Mat said. "I had enough." He was not going to reveal anything more to the man than he could not avoid, but Musenge nodded as if he had confirmed everything.By the time an opening could be cleared so that Mat and the others could ride through, Hartha and the Gardeners had returned. "I found the traitor," Hartha said, holding up a severed head by its hair.Musenge's eyebrows climbed at the sight of that dark, hook-nosed face. "She will be very interested to see this," he said softly. Softly as the sound of sword being drawn is soft. "We must carry it to her.""You know him?" Mat asked."We know him, Highness." Musenge's face, suddenly seeming carved from stone, said he would say no more on the subject."Look, would you stop calling me that? My name is Mat. After today, I'd say you have a right to use it." Mat surprised himself by sticking out his hand.That stone mask crumpled in astonishment. "I could not do that, Highness," he said in scandalized tones. "When she married you, you became Prince of the Ravens. To speak your name would lower my eyes forever."Mat took off his hat and scrubbed fingers through his hair. He had told everyone who would listen that he did not like n.o.bles, did not want to be one, and he had meant it. He still meant it. And now he b.l.o.o.d.y was one!He did the only thing he could. He laughed until his sides ached.

CHAPTER 38

Remember the Old Saying

The red-walled room, its ceiling painted fancifully with birds and fish cavorting among clouds and waves, bustled with brown-clad clerks scurrying along the aisles between the long tables that covered the floor. None seemed to be trying to listen-most seemed stunned, with cause-but Suroth disliked their presence. They had to overhear some of what was being said, and it was potentially dire news. Galgan had insisted, though. They needed to work to keep their minds off the disastrous news from home, and they were all trusted men and women. He insisted! At least the white-haired old man was not dressed as a soldier, this morning. His voluminous blue trousers and short, high-collared red coat with rows of gold b.u.t.tons embossed with his sigil were the height of Seandar fashion, which meant the height of fashion for the Empire. When he wore armor, or even just his red uniform, he sometimes looked at her as if she were a soldier under his command!Well, once Elbar brought word that Tuon was dead, she could have Galgan killed. His cheeks were smeared with ashes, as were hers. The ship Semirhage had promised had brought word of the Empress's death and the Empire was racked by rebellion in every quarter. There was no Empress, no Daughter of the Nine Moons. To commoners, the world trembled on the brink of destruction. To some of the Blood, too. With Galgan and a few more dead, there would be none to object to Suroth Sabelle Meldarath proclaiming herself Empress. She tried not to think of the new name she would take. Thinking on a new name beforehand was bad luck.A frown creasing his face, Galgan looked down at the map spread out before them, and placed a red-lacquered fingernail atop mountains on the southern coast of Arad Doman. Suroth did not know what the mountains were called. The map showed all of Arad Doman and held three markers, one red wedge and two white circles, s.p.a.ced out in a long line north to south. "Has Turan gotten an accurate count of how many men came out of these mountains to join Ituralde when he crossed into Arad Doman, Yamada?"Efraim Yamada wore the ashes, too, since he was of the Blood, if only the low Blood, his hair cut in the bowl-and-tail rather than a narrow crest across an otherwise shaved scalp. Only the commoners around the table, whatever their rank, were without. Graying and tall in a blue-and-gold breastplate, with broad shoulders and lean hips, Yamada still held some of the beauty of his youth. "He reports at least one hundred thousand, Captain-General. Perhaps half again that.""And how many came out after Turan crossed the border?""Possibly two hundred thousand, Captain-General."Galgan sighed and straightened. "So Turan has one army ahead of him and another behind, very likely the whole of Arad Doman's strength, and between them he is outnumbered." The fool! Stating the blindingly obvious."Turan should have stripped Tarabon of every sword and lance!" Suroth snapped. "If he survives this debacle, I will have his head!"Galgan quirked a white eyebrow at her. "I hardly think Tarabon is loyal enough to support that just yet," he said drily. "Besides, he has damane and raken. They should offset his lesser numbers. Speaking of damane and raken, I've signed the orders raising Tylee Khirgan to Lieutenant-General and the low Blood, since you've dithered over it, and orders to return most of those raken to Amadicia and Altara. Chisen still hasn't found whoever created that little mess in the north, and I don't like the notion that whoever it was is lying in wait to spring out as soon as Chisen returns to the Molvaine Gap."Suroth hissed, gripping her pleated blue skirts in her fists before she could stop her hands. She would not let the man make her show emotion! "You overstep yourself, Galgan," she said coldly. "I command the Forerunners. For the time being, I command the Return. You will sign no orders without my approval.""You commanded the Forerunners, who have been subsumed into the Return," he replied calmly, and Suroth tasted bitterness. The news from the Empire had emboldened him. With the Empress dead, Galgan intended to make himself the first Emperor in nine hundred years. It seemed he would have to die by tonight. "As for you commanding the Return-" He cut off at the sound of heavy boots from the corridor.Suddenly Deathwatch Guards filled the doorway, armored and hands on their sword hilts. Hard eyes stared out of their red-and-green helmets to survey the room. Only when they were satisfied did they step aside to reveal that the corridor was filled with Deathwatch Guards, human and Ogier. Suroth barely noticed them. She had eyes only for the small dark woman in pleated blue with a shaven head and ashes on her cheeks. The news was all over the city. She could not have reached the palace without hearing of her mother's death, her family's deaths, but her face was a stern mask. Suroth's knees. .h.i.t the floor automatically. Around her the Blood knelt, the commoners prostrated themselves."The Light's blessings for your safe return, Highness," she said in chorus with the rest of the Blood. So Elbar had failed. No matter. Tuon would not take a new name or become empress until the mourning was finished. She could still die, clearing the way for a new empress."Show them what Captain Musenge brought me, Banner-General Karede," Tuon said.A tall man with three dark plumes on his helmet bent to carefully empty a large lump from a canvas bag onto the green floor tiles. The gagging smell of decay began to permeate the room. Dropping the bag, he strode across the floor to stand beside Suroth.It took her a moment to recognize Elbar's hook-nosed face in that rotting ma.s.s, but as soon as she did, she fell forward, prostrating herself, kissing the floor tiles. Not in desperation, though. She could recover from this. Unless they had put Elbar to the question. "My eyes are lowered, Highness, that one of mine has offended you so deeply that you took his head.""Offended me." Tuon seemed to be weighing the words. "It might be said he offended me. He tried to kill me."Gasps filled the room, and before Suroth could more than open her mouth, the Deathwatch Guard Banner-General planted a boot on her bottom, seized her crest in his fist, and hauled her upper body clear of the floor. She did not struggle. That would only have added to the indignity."My eyes are deeply lowered that one of mine should be a traitor, Highness," she said hoa.r.s.ely. She wished she could have spoken naturally, but the cursed man had her back arched till it was a wonder she could speak at all. "Had I even suspected, I would have had him put to the question myself. But if he tried to implicate me, Highness, he lied to protect his true master. I have some thoughts on that which I would share with you in private, if I may be allowed." With a little luck, she could lay this to Galgan. His usurpation of her authority would help.Tuon looked over Suroth's head. She met Galgan's eyes, and Abaldar's and Yamada's, and those of everyone of the Blood, but not Suroth's. "It is well known that Zaired Elbar was Suroth's man completely. He did nothing that she did not order. Therefore Suroth Sabelle Meldarath is no more. This da'covale will serve the Deathwatch Guard as they wish until her hair has grown enough for her to be decent when she is sent to the block for sale."Suroth never thought of the knife she had intended to use to open her veins, a knife beyond reach in her apartments. She could not think at all. She started screaming, a wordless howl, before they even began cutting her clothing off.The Andoran sun was warm after Tar Valon. Pevara removed her cloak and began tying it behind her saddle as the gateway winked shut, hiding the view of the Ogier grove in Tar Valon. None of them had wanted anyone to see them leaving. They would return to the grove for the same reason, unless matters went very badly. In which case, they might never return. She had thought this task must be carried out by someone who combined the highest diplomatic skills with the courage of a lion. Well, she was no coward, at least. She could say that much of herself."Where did you learn the weave for bonding a Warder?" Javindhra asked abruptly, stowing her own cloak in similar fashion."You should recall that I once suggested Red sisters would be well served by having Warders." Pevara snugged her red riding gloves, showing no concern for the question. She had expected it before this. "Why would you be surprised I know the weave?" In truth, she had needed to ask Yukiri, and had been hard pressed to dissemble her reason for asking. She doubted that Yukiri was suspicious, though. A Red bonding a Warder was as likely as a woman flying. Except, of course, that that was why she had come to Andor. Why they had all come.Javindhra was there only at Tsutama's command, given when Pevara and Tarna could not come up with enough names to suit the Highest. The angular Sitter did not bother to hide her displeasure over that, not from Pevara, although she had buried it deeply around Tsutama. Tarna was there, of course, pale-haired and icy cold, her Keeper's stole left behind but her divided gray skirts embroidered in red to the knee. For Elaida's Keeper to have a Warder would be difficult, though the men were to be housed in the city, away from the Tower, yet it had all been her idea in the first place, and she was, if not eager, then determined to take part in this first experiment. Besides, the need for numbers was paramount, because they had found only three other sisters willing to entertain the idea. The primary task of the Red for so long, finding men who could channel and bringing them to the Tower to be gentled, tended to sour women on all men, so the clues had been few and far between. Jezrail was a square-faced Tairen who kept a painted miniature of the boy she had almost married instead of coming to the Tower. His grandchildren would be grandparents now, but she still spoke of him fondly. Desala, a beautiful Cairhienin with large dark eyes an