“Why Matrim,” Thom said, looking up, eyes glimmering with mirth, “bolstering a man’s spirits when he’s down? Convincing him to stay and do what is important, rather than running off to seek adventure? That sounds downright responsible. What’s gotten into you?”
Mat grimaced. “Marriage, I guess. Burn me, but I’m not going to stop drinking or gambling!” Ahead, Talmanes turned around and glanced at Mat, then rolled his eyes.
Thom laughed, watching Talmanes. “Well, lad, I didn’t mean to get your spirits down. Just idle talk. I still have a few things I can show this world. If I really can free Moiraine . . . well, we’ll see. Besides, somebody needs to be here to watch, then put this all to song, someday. There will be more than one ballad that comes from all of this.”
He turned, rifling through his saddlebags. “Ah!” he said, pulling out his patchwork gleeman’s cloak. He threw it on with a flourish.
“Well,” Mat said, “when you write about us, you might find a few gold marks in it if you saw your way to include a nice verse about Talmanes. You know, something about how he has one eye that stares in strange directions, and how he often carries this scent about him which reminds one of a goat pen.”
“I heard that!” Talmanes called from ahead.
“I meant you to!” Mat called back.
Thom just laughed, plucking at his cloak, arranging it for best display. “I can’t promise anything.” He chuckled some more. “Though, if you don’t mind, Mat, I think I’ll separate from the rest of you once we get into the village. A gleeman’s ears may pick up information that won’t be spoken in the presence of soldiers.”
“Information would be nice,” Mat said, rubbing his chin. The trail turned up ahead; Vanin said they’d find the village just beyond the turn. “I feel as though I’ve been traveling through a tunnel for months now, with no sight or sound of the outside world. Burn me, but it would be nice to know where Rand is, if only to know where not to go.” The colors spun, showing him Rand—but the man was standing in a room with no view of the outside, giving Mat no clue as to where he might be.
“Life’s that tunnel most times, I’m afraid,” Thom said. “People expect a gleeman to bring information, so we pull it out and brush it off for display—but much of the ‘news’ we tell is just another batch of stories, in many cases less true than the ballads from a thousand years ago.”
Mat nodded.
“And,” Thom added, “I’ll see if I can dig up hints for the incursion.”
The Tower of Ghenjei. Mat shrugged. “We’re more likely to find what we need in Four Kings or Caemlyn.”
“Yes, I know. But Olver made me promise to check. If you hadn’t set Noal to keeping the boy distracted, I’d expect to open our saddlebags and find him in there. He really wanted to come.”
“A night dancing and gambling is no place for a boy,” Mat muttered. “I just wish I could trust the men back at camp not to corrupt him worse than a tavern would.”
“Well, he stayed back quietly enough once Noal got out the board.” Olver was convinced that if he played Snakes and Foxes enough, he’d pick out some secret strategy for defeating the Aelfinn and Eelfinn. “The lad still thinks he’s coming with us into the tower,” Thom said more quietly. “He knows he can’t be one of the three, but he plans to wait outside for us. Maybe burst in to save us if we don’t come back soon enough. I don’t want to be there when he discovers the truth.”
“I don’t intend to be there myself,” Mat said. Ahead, the trees broke wide into a small valley with green pastures rising high along the hills to the sides. A town of several hundred buildings was nestled between the slopes, a mountain stream runn
ing down the middle. The houses were of a deep gray stone, each with a prominent chimney, most of which curled with smoke. The roofs were sloped to deal with what were probably very snowy winters, though the only white still visible now was on distant peaks. Workers were already busy on several of the roofs replacing winter-damaged shingles, and goats and sheep grazed the hillsides, watched over by shepherd boys.
There were a few hours of light remaining, and other men worked on shopfronts and fences. Others strolled through the streets of the village, no urgency in their gait. Overall, the little town had a relaxing air of mixed industry and laziness.
Mat pulled up beside Talmanes and the soldiers. “That’s a nice sight,” Talmanes noted. “I was beginning to think every town in the world was either falling apart, packed with refugees or under the thumb of invaders. At least this one doesn’t seem likely to vanish on us . . .”
“Light send it so,” Mat said, shivering, thinking of the town in Altara that had vanished. “Anyway, let’s hope they don’t mind dealing with a few strangers.” He eyed the soldiers; all five were Redarms, among the best he had. “Three of you five, go with the Aes Sedai. I suspect that they’ll want to stay at a different inn from myself. We’ll meet up in the morning.”
The soldiers saluted, and Joline sniffed as she passed on her horse, pointedly not looking at Mat. She and the others headed down the incline in a little cluster, three of Mat’s soldiers following.
“That looks like an inn there,” Thom said, pointing toward a larger building on the eastern side of the village. “You’ll find me there.” He waved, then kicked his mount into a trot and rode on ahead, gleeman’s cloak streaming. Arriving first would give him the best chance at a dramatic entrance.
Mat glanced at Talmanes, who shrugged. The two of them made their way down the slope with two soldiers as an escort. Because of the bend in the road, they were approaching from the southwest. To the northeast of the village, the ancient roadway continued. It looked strange to have such a large road leading past a village like this, even if that road was old and broken. Master Roidelle claimed that it would lead them straight up into Andor. It was too uneven to be used as a major highway, and the direction it led no longer passed major cities, so it had been forgotten. Mat blessed their luck in finding it, though. The main passages into Murandy had been crowded with Seanchan.
According to Roidelle’s maps, Hinderstap specialized in producing goat’s cheese and mutton for the various towns and manor lands in the region. The villagers should be used to outsiders. Indeed, several boys came running from the fields the moment they spotted Thom and his gleeman’s cloak. He’d make a stir, but a familiar one. The Aes Sedai, though, would be memorable.
Ah, well, he thought as he and Talmanes rode down the grass-lined road. He would retain his good humor; this time, he would not let the Aes Sedai ruin it.
By the time Mat and Talmanes reached the village, Thom had already gathered a small crowd. He stood upright on his saddle and juggled three colored balls in his right hand while talking of his travels in the south. The villagers here wore vests and green cloaks of a deep, velvety cloth. They looked warm, though upon closer inspection, Mat noticed that many of them—cloaks, vests and trousers—had been torn, and carefully mended.
Another group of people, mostly women, had gathered around the Aes Sedai. Good; Mat had half-expected the villagers to be frightened. One of those standing at the side of Thom’s group eyed Mat and Talmanes appraisingly. He was a sturdy fellow, with thick arms and linen sleeves that were rolled to the elbows despite the chill spring air. His arms curled with dark hair that matched his beard and the locks on his head.
“You have the look of a lord about you,” the man said, approaching Mat.
“He’s a pr—” Talmanes began before Mat cut him off hastily.