I wonder if she likes to dance. He pushed the thought right out of his head. “That does not sound too very hard, but it’s a long trip. What do I get out of it?” From the look on her face, he did not think that dimple had failed her very often.
She drew herself up, slim and proud. He could almost see a throne behind her. “Are you a loyal subject of Andor? Do you not wish to serve the Lion Throne, and your Daughter-Heir?”
Mat snickered.
“I told you that would not work either,” Egwene said. “Not with him.”
Elayne had a wry twist to her mouth. “I thought it worth a try. It always works on the Guards, in Caemlyn. You said if I smiled—” She cut off short, very obviously not looking at him.
What did you say, Egwene, he thought, furious. That I’m a fool for any girl who smiles at me? He kept his outward calm, though, and managed to maintain his grin.
“I wish asking were enough,” Egwene said, “but you do not do favors, do you, Mat? Have you ever done anything without being coaxed, wheedled, or bullied?”
He only smiled at her. “I will dance with both of you, Egwene, but I won’t run errands.” For an instant he thought she was going to stick out her tongue at him.
“If we can go back to what we planned in the first place,” Nynaeve said in a too-calm voice. The other two nodded, and she turned her attentions on him. For the first time since coming in, she looked like the Wisdom of old, with a stare that could pin you in your tracks and her braid ready to lash like a cat’s tail.
“You are even ruder than I remembered, Matrim Cauthon. With you sick so long—and Egwene, and Elayne, and I taking care of you like a babe in swaddling—I had almost forgotten. Even so, I would think you’d have a little gratitude in you. You’ve talked about seeing the world, seeing great cities. Well, what better city than Caemlyn? Do what you want, show your gratitude, and help someone all at the same time.” She produced a folded parchment from inside her cloak and set it on the table. It was sealed with a lily, in golden yellow wax. “You cannot ask for more than that.”
He eyed the paper regretfully. He barely remembered passing through Caemlyn, once, with Rand. It was a shame to stop them now, but he thought it best. If you want the fun of the jig, you have to pay the harper sooner or later. And the way Nynaeve was now, the longer he kept from paying, the worse it would be. “Nynaeve, I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you cannot? Are you a fly on the wall, or a man? A chance to do a favor for the Daughter-Heir of Andor, to see Caemlyn, to meet Queen Morgase herself in all probability, and you cannot? I really do not know what more you could possibly want. Don’t you skitter away like grease on a griddle this time, Matrim Cauthon! Or has your heart changed so you like seeing these all around you?” She waved her left hand in his face, practically hitting him in the nose with her ring.
“Please, Mat?” Elayne said, and Egwene was staring at him as if he had grown horns like a Trolloc.
He squirmed on his chair. “It is not that I don’t want to. I cannot! The Amyrlin’s made it so I can’t get off the bloo—the island. Change that, and I will carry your letter in my teeth, Elayne.”
Looks passed between them. He sometimes wondered if women could read each other’s minds. They certainly seemed to read his when he least wanted it. But this time, whatever they had decided silently among themselves, they had not read his thoughts.
“Explain,” Nynaeve said curtly. “Why would the Amyrlin want to keep you here?”
He shrugged, and looked her straight in the eye, and gave her his best rueful grin. “It’s because I was sick. Because it went on so long. She said she would not let me go until she was sure I wouldn’t go off somewhere and die. Not that I’m going to, of course. Die, I mean.”
Nynaeve frowned, and jerked her braid, and suddenly took his head between her hands; a chill ran through him. Light, the Power! Before the thought was done, she had released him.
“What . . . ? What did you do to me, Nynaeve?”
“Not a tenth part of what you deserve, in all likelihood,” she said. “You are as healthy as a bull. Weaker than you look, but healthy.”
“I told you I was,” he said uneasily. He tried to get his grin back. “Nynaeve, she looked like you. The Amyrlin, I mean. Managing to loom even if she is a foot too short for it, and bullying. . . .” The way her eyebrows climbed, he decided that was not a road to go down any further. As long as he kept them away from the Horn. He wondered if they knew. “Well. Anyway, I think they want to keep me here because of that dagger. I mean, until they figure out exactly how it did what it did. You know how Aes Sedai are.” He gave a small laugh. They all just looked at him. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Burn me! They want to be bloody Aes Sedai. Burn me, I’m going on too long. I wish Nynaeve would stop staring at me like that. Keep it short. “The Amyrlin made it so I cannot cross a bridge or board a ship without an order from her. You see? It’s not that I do not want to help. I just can’t.”
“But you will if we can get you out of Tar Valon?” Nynaeve said intently.
“You get me out of Tar Valon, and I’ll carry Elayne to her mother on my back.”
Elayne’s eyebrows went up, this time, and Egwene shook her head, mouthing his name with a sharp look in her eyes. Women had no sense of humor, sometimes.
Nynaeve motioned the two of them to follow her to the windows, where they turned their backs to him and talked so softly he could catch only a murmur. He thought he heard Egwene say something about only needing one if they stayed together. Watching, he wondered if they really thought they could get around the Amyrlin’s order. If they can do that, I will carry their bloody letter. I really will carry it in my teeth.
Without thinking, he picked up an apple core and bit off the end. One chew, and he hastily spit the mouthful of bitter seeds back onto the plate.
When they came back to the table, Egwene handed him a thick, folded paper. He eyed them suspiciously before opening it out. As he read, he began humming to himself without knowing it.
What the bearer does is done at my order and by my authority. Obey, and keep silent, at my command.
Siuan Sanche
Watcher of the Seals