Towers of Midnight (The Wheel of Time #13)

Towers of Midnight (The Wheel of Time #13) Page 266

“Metaphor for….” Mat scowled. “Bloody ashes, woman. This isn’t a metaphor for anything! It’s just boots.”

Setalle shook her head. “You’re an unconventionally wise man, Matrim Cauthon.”

“I try my best,” he noted, reaching for the pitcher of mulled cider. “To be unconventional, I mean.” He poured a cup and lifted it in her direction. She accepted graciously and drank, then stood. “I will leave you to your own amusements, then, Master Cauthon. But if you have made any progress on that gateway for me….”

“Elayne said she would have one for you soon. In a day or two. Once I’m back from the errand I have to run with Thom and Noal, I’ll see it done.”

She nodded in understanding. If he did not return from that “errand,” she would see to Olver. She turned to leave. Mat waited until she was gone before taking a slurp of the cider straight from the pitcher. He had been doing that all evening, but he figured she would probably rather not know. It was the sort of thing women were better off not thinking about.

He turned back to his reports, but soon found his mind wandering to the Tower of Ghenjei, and those bloody snakes and foxes. Birgitte’s comments had been enlightening, but not particularly encouraging. Two months? Two bloody months spent wandering those hallways? That was a mighty, steaming bowl of worry, served up like afternoon slop. Beyond that, she had taken fire, music, and iron. Breaking the rules was not so original an idea.

He was not surprised. Likely, the day the Light made the very first man, and that man had made the first rule, someone else had thought to break it. People like Elayne made up rules to suit them. People like Mat found ways to get around the stupid rules.

Unfortunately, Birgitte—one of the legendary Heroes of the Horn—had not been able to defeat the Aelfinn and Eelfinn. That was disconcerting.

Well, Mat had something she had not had. His luck. He sat thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. One of his soldiers passed by. Clintock saluted; the Redarm checked on Mat every half-hour. They still had not gotten over the shame of letting the gholam sneak into camp.

He picked up Verin’s letter again, feeling it over in his fingers. The worn corners, the smudges of dirt on the once-white paper. He tapped it against the wood.

Then he tossed it onto the desk. No. No, he was not going to open it, even when he got back. That was that. He would never know what was in it, and he bloody did not care.

He stood up and went looking for Thom and Noal. Tomorrow, they would leave for the Tower of Ghenjei.

Chapter 53

Gateways

Pevara kept her tongue as she walked through the village of the Black Tower with Javindhra and Mazrim Taim.

There was activity all through the place. There was always activity in the Black Tower. Soldiers felling trees nearby; Dedicated stripping the bark away, then slicing the logs into lumber with focused jets of Air. Sawdust coated the path; with a chill, Pevara realized that the stack of boards nearby had probably been cut by Asha’man.

Light! She’d known what she’d find here. It was much harder to face than she’d assumed it would be.

“And you see,” Taim said, walking with one hand folded—fingers making a fist—behind his back. With his other hand, he pointed toward a distant, part-finished wall of black stone. “Guard posts spaced at fifty-foot intervals. Each with two Asha’man atop them.” He smiled in satisfaction. “This place will be impregnable.”

“Yes indeed,” Javindhra said. “Impressive.” Her tone was flat and uninterested. “But the item I wished to speak with you about. If we could choose men with the Dragon pin to—”

“This again?” Taim said. He had fire in his eyes, this Mazrim Taim. A tall, black-haired man with high, Saldaean cheekbones. He smiled. Or the closest he came to such an expression—a half-smile that did not reach his eyes. It looked…predatory. “I have made my will known. And yet you continue to push. No. Soldiers and Dedicated only.”

“As you demand,” Javindhra said. “We will continue our consideration.”

“Weeks pass,” Taim replied, “and still you consider? Well, far be it from me to question Aes Sedai. I care not what you do. But the women outside my gates claim to be from the White Tower as well. Do you not wish me to invite them in to meet with you?”

Pevara felt a chill. He always seemed to know too much, and hint that he knew too much, about internal White Tower politics.

“That won’t be needed,” Javindhra said coldly.

“As you wish,” he said. “You should make your choices soon. They grow impatient, and al’Thor has given them permission to bond my men. They will not suffer my stalling forever.”

“They are rebels. You need pay them no heed at all.”

“Rebels,” Taim said, “with a much larger force than you. What do you have? Six women? From the way you talk, you seem to intend to bond the entirety of the Black Tower!”

“Perhaps we might.” Pevara spoke calmly. “No limit was placed upon us.”

Taim glanced at her, and she had the distinct feeling she was being inspected by a wolf considering whether she’d make a good meal. She shoved that feeling aside. She was Aes Sedai, no easy meat. Still, she couldn’t help remembering that they were only six. Inside a camp filled with hundreds of men who could channel.

“I once saw a skyfisher dying on the city docks of Illian,” Taim said. “The bird was choking, having tried to swallow two fish at once.”

“Did you help the sorry thing?” Javindhra asked.

“Fools will always choke themselves when they grasp for too much, Aes Sedai,” Taim said. “What matters that to me? I had a fine meal of it that night. The flesh of the bird, and of the fish. I must go. But be warned, now that I have a defensible perimeter, you must give me warning if you wish to pass outside.”

“You mean to keep comings and goings that tight?” Pevara asked.

“The world becomes a dangerous place,” Taim said smoothly. “I must think of the needs of my men.”

Pevara had noticed how he saw to the “needs” of his men. A group of young soldiers passed by, saluting Taim. Two bore bruised features, one with an eye swollen shut. Asha’man were beaten brutally for making mistakes in their training, then forbidden Healing.

The Aes Sedai were never touched. In fact, the deference they were s