The Dragon Reborn (The Wheel of Time #3)

The Dragon Reborn (The Wheel of Time #3) Page 101

“'It was as we have said it should be,' said King Madel, trying to untangle a fish from his long beard.” Thom's voice seemed almost to echo inside a great hall, not an ordinary common room. His plucked harp sounded the three kings' final foolishness. “'It was as we said it would be,' announced Orander. And, feet slipping in the mud, he sat down with a great splash. 'It was as we said it must be,' proclaimed Kadar as he searched, up to his elbows in the river, for his crown. 'The woman knows not whereof she speaks. She is the fool!' Madel and Orander agreed with him loudly. And with that, Mara had had enough. 'I've given them all the chances they deserve and more,' she murmured to herself. Slipping Kadar's crown into her bag with the first two, she climbed back onto her cart, clucked to her mare, and drove straight back to her village. And when Mara had told them all that happened, the people of Heape would have no king at all.” He strummed the major theme of the kings' foolishness once more, this time sliding to a crescendo that sounded even more like laughter, made a sweeping bow, and nearly fell off the table.

Men laughed and stamped their feet, though likely every one of them had heard the story many times before, and called for more. The story of Mara was always well received, except perhaps by kings.

Thom nearly fell again climbing down from the table, and he was more unsteady in his walk than a somewhat stiff leg could account for as he came to where Mat was sitting. Casually putting his harp on the table, he dropped onto a stool in front of the second mug and gave Mat a flat stare. His eyes had always been sharp as awls, but they seemed to be having trouble focusing.

“Common,” he muttered. His voice was still deep, but it no longer seemed to reverberate. “The tale is a hundred times better in Plain Chant, and a thousand in High, but they want Common.” Without another word, he buried his face in his wine.

Mat could not recall ever seeing Thom finish playing that harp without immediately putting it away in its hard leather case. He had never seen him the worse for drink. It was a relief to hear the gleeman complaining about his listeners; Thom never thought their standards were as high as his. At least something of him had not changed.

The serving girl was back, with no twinkle in her eyes. “Oh, Thom,” she said softly, then rounded on Mat. “If I'd known he was the friend you awaited, I'd not have brought you wine for him if you gave a hundred silver pence.”

“I did not know he was drunk,” Mat protested.

But her attention was back on Thom, her voice gentle again. “Thom, you need some rest. They'll keep you telling stories all night and all day, if you let them.”

Another woman appeared on Thom's other side, lifting her apron off over her head. She was older than the first, but no less pretty. The two might have been sisters. “A beautiful story, I've always thought, Thom, and you tell it beautifully. Come, I've slipped a warming pan into your bed, and you can tell me all about the court in Caemlyn.”

Thom peered into the mug as if surprised to find it empty, then blew out his long mustaches and looked from one woman to the other. “Pretty Mada. Pretty Saal. Did I ever tell you that two pretty women have loved me in my life? That is more than most men can claim.”

“You've told us all about it, Thom,” the older woman said sadly. The younger glared at Mat as if this were all his fault.

“Two,” Thom murmured. “Morgase had a temper, but I thought I could ignore that, so it ended with her wanting to kill me. Dena, I killed. As good as. Not much difference. Two chances I've had, more than most, and I threw them both away.”

“I will take care of him,” Mat said. Mada and Saal were both glaring at him, now. He gave them his best smile, but it did not work. His stomach muttered loudly. “Don't I smell chicken roasting? Bring me three or four.” The two women blinked and exchanged startled looks when he added, “Do you want something to eat, too, Thom?”

“I could do with more of this fine Andoran wine.” The gleeman raised his cup hopefully.

“No more wine for you tonight, Thom.” The older woman would have taken his cup if he had let her.

Almost on top of the first woman, the younger said, in a mixture of firmness and pleading, “You'll have some chicken, Thom. It is very good.”

Neither would leave until the gleeman agreed to eat something, and when they did go, they gave Mat such a combination of stares and sniffs that he could only shake his head. Burn me, you would think I was encouraging him to drink more! Women! But pretty eyes on the pair of them.

“Rand said you were alive,” he told Thom when Mada and Saal were out of hearing. “Moiraine always said she thought you were. But I heard you were in Cairhien, and meaning to go on to Tear.”

“Rand is still well, then?” Thom's eyes sharpened to almost the keenness Mat remembered. “I am not sure I expected that. Moiraine is still with him, is she? A finelooking woman. A fine woman, if she were not Aes Sedai. Meddle with that sort, and you get more than your fingers burned.”

“Why wouldn't you expect Rand to be all right?” Mat asked carefully. “Do you know of something that could harm him?”

“Know? I don't know anything, boy. I suspect more than is healthy for me, but I know nothing.”

Mat abandoned that line of talk. No use firming his suspicions. No use letting him know I know more than's healthy myself.

The older woman — Thom called her Mada — came back with three chickens with crisp, brown skins, giving the whitehaired man a worried look, and Mat a warning one, before she left. Mat ripped off a leg and set to as he talked. Thom frowned into his cup and never looked at the birds.

“Why are you here in Tar Valon, Thom? It's the last place I'd have expected to see you, the way you feel about Aes Sedai. I heard you were coining money in Cairhien.”

“Cairhien,” the old gleeman muttered, the sharpness fading from his eyes again. “Such trouble it causes killing a man, even when he deserves killing.” He made a flourish with one hand and was holding a knife. Thom always had knives secreted about him. Drunk he might have been, but he held the blade steady enough. “Kill a man who needs killing, and sometimes others pay for it. The question is, was it worth doing anyway? There's always a balance, you know. Good and evil. Light and Shadow. We would not be human if there wa