Lord of Chaos (The Wheel of Time #6)

Lord of Chaos (The Wheel of Time #6) Page 207

The land lay nearly flat here, so he had a clear view of Rand striding toward him. Not alone. Two veiled Aiel moved on their toes, heads swiveling every time one of the Band rolled over in his sleep or a sentry shifted his feet to watch them. That Aiel woman Aviendha was with him as well, a bundle across her back, stalking along as if she would go for the throat of anyone who got in her way. Mat did not understand why Rand kept her around. Aielwomen are nothing but trouble, he thought bleakly, and I’ve never seen a woman more set to give trouble than that one.

“Is that really the Dragon Reborn?” Olver asked breathlessly. Clutching the rolled-up game to his chest, he was almost bouncing.

“It is,” Mat told him. “Now get off to bed. This is no place for boys.”

Olver went, muttering reproachfully, but only as far as the next tent. Out of the corner of his eye Mat saw the boy dart out of sight; his face reappeared, peering around the corner.

Mat left him alone, though after getting a good look at Rand’s face, he wondered whether this was any place for grown men, let alone a boy. That face could have been used to hammer down a wall, but some emotion struggled to break through, excitement or maybe eagerness; Rand’s eyes held a fevered light. He had a wide piece of rolled parchment in one hand, while the other stroked his sword hilt unconsciously. The Dragon belt buckle glittered in the firelight; sometimes the head of one of the Dragons peeking out from his coatsleeves did too.

When he reached Mat, he wasted no time with greetings. “I need to talk to you. Alone. I need you to do something.” The night was a black oven, and Rand wore a gold-embroidered green coat with a high collar, but he was not sweating a drop.

Daerid, Talmanes and Nalesean stood a few paces away in various states of undress, watching. Mat motioned them to wait, then nodded toward his tent. Following Rand in, he fingered the silver foxhead though his shirt. He had nothing to worry about, at least. He hoped he did not.

Rand had said alone, but apparently Aviendha did not think that applied to her. She stayed a firm two paces from him, no more and no less; mostly she watched Rand with an unreadable face, but now and then she glanced at Mat, frowning and eyeing him up and down. Rand paid her no attention, and for all his seeming haste before, he showed none now. He looked around the tent, though Mat wondered uneasily whether he was seeing it. There was not much to see. Olver had set the lamps back on the small folding table. The chair folded, too, and so did the washstand and the cot. All were black-lacquered, with lines of gilt; if a man had coin, he might as well spend it on something. The slits the Aiel had made in the tent wall had been mended neatly, but they still showed.

The silence dug at Mat. “What is this, Rand? I hope you haven’t decided to change the plan at this late date.” No answer, only a look as if Rand had just remembered he was there. It made Mat nervous. Whatever Daerid and the rest of the Band thought, he worked hard at keeping clear of battles. Sometimes, though, being ta’veren worked against his luck; that was the way he saw it. He believed Rand had something to do with that; he was more strongly ta’veren, strong enough that at times Mat almost felt a pulling. When Rand put his finger in, Mat would not be surprised to find himself in the middle of a battle if he was asleep in a barn. “A few more days, and I’ll be in Tear. The ferries will take the Band across the river, and a few days beyond that will see us with Weiramon. It’s too bloody late to go meddling—”

“I want you to bring Elayne to . . . to Caemlyn,” Rand broke in. “I want you to see her safe to Caemlyn, whatever happens. Don’t leave her side until she’s on the Lion Throne.” Aviendha cleared her throat. “Yes,” Rand said. For some reason his voice went as cold and hard as his face. But then, did he need reasons if he was going mad? “Aviendha is going with you. I think it’s best.”

“You think it is best?” she said indignantly. “If I had not wakened when I did, I would never have known you had found her. You do not send me anywhere, Rand al’Thor. I must speak with Elayne for my . . . my own reasons.”

“I am very glad you’ve found Elayne,” Mat said carefully. If he was Rand, he would leave the woman wherever she was. Light, Aviendha would be better! At least Aielwomen did not walk around with their noses in the air, or think you should jump just because they said so. Of course, some of their games were on the rough side, and they did have the habit of trying to kill you now and again. “I just don’t understand why you need me. Jump through one of your gateways, give her a kiss, scoop her up and jump back.” Aviendha fastened an outraged stare on him; you would have thought he had advised kissing her.

Rand unrolled the large parchment on the table, using the lamps to hold down the ends. “This is where she is.” It was a map, a stretch of the River Eldar and maybe fifty miles or so to either side. An arrow had been drawn in blue ink, pointing into forest. “Salidar” was printed beside the arrow. Rand tapped near the eastern edge of the map. That was wooded, too; most of it was. “There is a large clearing here. You can see the nearest village is nearly twenty miles north. I’ll put a gateway through to the clearing for you and the Band.”

Mat managed to turn a wince into a grin. “Look, if it has to be me, why not just me? Make your gateway to this Salidar, I’ll toss her on a horse, and . . .” And what? Was Rand going to make a gateway from Salidar to Caemlyn as well? It was a long way to ride, from the Eldar to Caemlyn. A very long way, with only a snooty noblewoman and an Aiel for company.

“The Band, Mat,” Rand snapped. “You and the whole Band!” He drew a long shuddering breath, and his tone became milder. His face did not lose its rigidity, though, and his eyes were still feverish. Mat could almost believe he was sick, or in pain. “There are Aes Sedai in Salidar, Mat. I don’t know how many; hundreds, I’ve heard, but I won’t be surprised if it is closer to fifty. The way they go on about the Tower, whole and pure, I doubt you’ll see more. I mean to put you out two or three days away so they can learn you’re coming. No point in startling them—they might think you were a Whitecloak attack. They’re rebels against Elaida, and probably frightened enough that you won’t have to do more than loom a little and say Elayne has to be crowned in Caemlyn to make them let her go. If you think they can be trusted, offer your protection. And mine; they’re supposed to be on my side, and they might be glad of even my protection by now. Then you escort Elayne—and as many of the Aes Sedai as want to come—straight across Altara and Murandy to Caemlyn. Show my banners, announce what you’re doing, and I don’t think the Altarans or Murandians will give much trouble, not as long as you keep moving. If you find any Dragonsworn along the way, gather them in as well. Most will probably turn to bandits if I don’t tie a rope to them soon—I’ve heard a rumor or two already—but you will draw them, flying my banners.” His sudden grin showed teeth, but never touched those hot eyes. “How many birds with one stone, Mat? You ride through Altara and Murandy with six thousand men and draw the Dragonsworn out after you, and you may hand