He scratched his neck, frowning, then moved to break the seal.
"You aren't to open them until that day," Verin said.
"What?" Mat demanded. "But—"
"That is my cost," Verin said simply.
"Bloody woman," he said, looking back at the paper. "I'm not going to swear to something unless I know what it is."
"I doubt you will find my instructions harsh, Matrim," she noted.
Mat scowled at the seal for a moment, then stood up. "I pass on it."
She pursed her lips. "Matrim, you—"
"Call me Mat," he said, grabbing his hat off the top of a cushion. "And I said there's no deal. I'll be in Caemlyn in twenty days of marching, anyway." He pushed open the tent flaps, gesturing out. "I'm not going to have you tying strings around me, woman."
She didn't move, though she did frown. "I had forgotten how difficult you can be."
"And proud of it," Mat said.
"And if we have a compromise?" Verin asked.
"You'll tell me what is in that bloody paper?"
"No," Verin said. "Because I might not need you to go through with the contents. I hope to be able to return to you and relieve you of the letter and send you on your way. But if I cannot. ..."
"The compromise, then?" Mat said.
"You may choose not to open the letter," Verin said. "Burn it. But if you do so, you wait fifty days in Caemlyn, just in case it takes me longer to return than I had expected."
That gave him pause. Fifty days was a long time to wait. But if he could do it in Caemlyn, rather than traveling on his own. . . .
Was Elayne in the city? He'd worried about her, since her escape from Ebou Dar. If she was there, he might at least be able to get production started quickly on Aludra's dragons.
But fifty days? Waiting? Either that, or open the bloody letter and do what it said? He didn't like either option. "Twenty days," he said.
"Thirty days," she said, rising, then raised a finger to cut off his objection. "A compromise, Mat. Among Aes Sedai, I think you shall find me to be far more amenable to those than most." She held out her hand.
Thirty days. He could wait thirty days. He looked at the letter in his hands. He could resist opening it, and thirty days of waiting didn't really lose him any time. It was only a little longer than he'd take to reach Caemlyn on his own. In fact, this was a bloody bargain! He needed a few weeks to get the dragons going, and he wanted time to find out more about the Tower of Ghenjei and the snakes and foxes. Thorn couldn't complain—when it would take them two weeks to reach Caemlyn anyway.
Verin eyed him, a hint of worry on her face. He couldn't let her know how pleased he was. Let a woman know that, and she'd find some way to make you to pay her back.
"Thirty days," Mat said reluctantly, taking her hand, "but at the end of them, I can go."
"Or you can open the letter after ten days," Verin said, "and do what it says. One of the two, Matrim. I have your word?"
"You do," he said. "But I'm not going to open the bloody letter. I'm going to wait thirty days, then be off on my business."
"We shall see," she said, smiling to herself and releasing his hand. She folded up the picture of him, then took a small leather-bound satchel from her pocket. She opened it, sliding the picture inside, and as she did, he noticed that she had a small stack of folded, sealed pieces of paper inside just like the one he was holding. What was the purpose of those?
Once the letters were safely tucked in her pocket, she took out a carved piece of translucent stone—a brooch, shaped like a lily. "Begin breaking down your camp, Matrim. I need to make your gateway as soon as possible. I myself need to Travel shortly."
"Fine." Mat looked down at the sealed, folded paper in his hands. Why was Verin being so cryptic?
Burn it! he thought. I'm not going to open it. I'm not. "Mandevwin," he said. "Get Verin Sedai her own tent to wait in as we break camp and assign a couple of soldiers to fetch for her anything she needs. Also, inform the other Aes Sedai that she's here. They'll probably be interested to hear of her arrival, Aes Sedai being Aes Sedai."
Mat tucked the folded paper into his belt, then started to leave. "And have somebody burn that bloody bench. I can't believe we carted the thing this far."