Unfortunately for most of the mercenaries, the siege had been a short one. News traveled fast, but weary and hungry soldiers traveled slowly. Soldier bands continued to arrive at the city in a steady flow, the men in them disappointed to find no need for their weapons.
Elayne had begun by sending them away. Then she’d realized the foolishness in this. Every man would be needed at Tarmon Gai’don, and if Andor could provide an extra five or ten thousand soldiers to the conflict, she wanted to do so.
She didn’t have the coin to pay them now, but neither did she want to lose them. So instead, she had ordered Master Norry and Captain Guybon to give all of the mercenary bands the same instructions. They were to allow no more than a certain number of soldiers into Caemlyn at a time, and they were to camp no closer than one league from the city.
This was to leave them with the idea that she’d meet with them eventually and offer them work. She just might do that, now that she had decided to take the Sun Throne. Of course, the last sell-swords she’d hired had gone rotten on her more often than not.
Against her better judgment, she picked up the cup of milk and took a sip. Birgitte nodded in satisfaction, but Elayne grimaced. Better to go thirsty!
“Well,” Master Norry said, looking over the page in his fingers, “one of the mercenary captains has taken it upon himself to send you a very…familiar letter. I wouldn’t have brought it to you, but upon second reading it seems that it is something you should see. The ruffian’s claims are outlandish, but I would not like to have been the one to ignore them, should they prove…um…accurate.”
Curious, Elayne reached for the paper. Outlandish claims? She didn’t know any mercenary captains. The scrawl on the page was uneven, there were numerous crossed out words, and some of the spelling was…creative. Whoever this man was, she—
She blinked in surprise as she reached the bottom of the letter. Then she read it again.
Your Royal Bloody Pain in My Back,
We’re bloody waiting here to talk to you, and we’re getting angry perturbed. (That means angry.) Thom says that you’re a queen now, but I figure that changes nothing, sense you acted like a queen all the time anyway. Don’t forget that I carried halled your pretty little backside out of a hole in Tear, but you acted like a queen then, so I guess I don’t know why I’m suprised now that you act like one when you really are a queen.
So I’m thinking I should treat you like a bloody Queen and send you a bloody letter and all, speaking with high talk and getting your attention. I even used my ring as a signet, like it was paper proper. So here is my formal salutation. So BLOODY STOP TURNING ME AWAY so we can talk. I need your bellfounders. It’s bloody important.
—Mat
p.s. Salutation means greeting.
p.p.s. Don’t mind the scratched out words and bad spellings. I was going to rewrite this letter, but Thom is laffing so hard at me that I want to be done.
p.p.s. Don’t mind me calling your backside pretty. I hardly ever spent any time looking at it, as I’ve an awareness that you’d pull my eyes out if you saw me. Besides, I’m married now, so that all doesn’t matter.
Elayne couldn’t decide whether to be outraged or exuberant. Mat was in Andor, and Thom was alive! They’d escaped Ebou Dar. Had they found Olver? How had they gotten away from the Seanchan?
So many emotions and questions welled up in her. Birgitte stood upright, frowning, feeling the emotions. “Elayne? What is it? Did the man insult you?”
Elayne found herself nodding, tears forming in her eyes.
Birgitte cursed, striding over. Master Norry looked taken aback, as if regretting that he’d brought the letter.
Elayne burst into laughter.
Birgitte froze. “Elayne?”
“I’m all right,” Elayne said, wiping the tears from her eyes and forcing herself to take a deep breath. “Oh, Light. I needed that. Here, read it.”
Birgitte snatched the letter, and as she read, her face lightened. She chuckled. “You have a nice backside? He should be talking. Mat’s got as fine a rump as comes on a man.”
“Birgitte!” Elayne said.
“Well it’s true,” the Warder said, handing back the letter. “I find his face far too pretty, but that doesn’t mean I can’t judge a good backside when I see one. Light, it will be good to have him back! Finally, someone I can go drinking with who doesn’t look at me as their bloody military superior.”
“Contain yourself, Birgitte,” Elayne said, folding the letter up. Norry looked scandalized by the exchange. Dyelin said nothing. It took a lot to faze that woman, and she’d heard worse from Birgitte.
“You did well, Master Norry,” Elayne said. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”
“You do indeed know these mercenaries, then?” he asked, a hint of surprise sounding in his voice.
“They’re not mercenaries. Actually, I’m not certain what they are. Friends. And allies, I should hope.” Why had Mat brought the Band of the Red Hand to Andor? Were they loyal to Rand? Could she make use of them? Mat was a scoundrel, but he had a strangely good eye for tactics and warfare. A soldier under his command would be worth ten of the sell-sword riffraff she’d been forced to hire recently.
“My pardon, Your Majesty, for my mistake,” Norry said. “I should have brought this to you sooner. My informants told me that this group was recently in the employ of the Crown of Murandy, so I discounted their leader’s insistence that he wasn’t a mercenary.”
“You did well, Master Norry,” Elayne said, still feeling amused and insulted. It was odd how often one moved between those two emotions when Matrim Cauthon was involved. “Light knows I’ve been busy enough. But please, if someone claims to know me personally, at least bring it to Birgitte’s attention.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Arrange a meeting with Master Cauthon,” she said, idly wishing she had time to write him back a letter as insulting as the one he’d written her. “Tell him he must bring Thom with him. To…keep him in line.”
“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Norry said with a characteristically stiff bow. “If I may withdraw…”
She nodded in thanks and he left, pulling the door closed. Elayne held Mat’s letter idly between two fingers. Could she use Mat, somehow, to help her with the troubles Ellorien was making? As she’d used the Borderlanders? Or was that too obvious?
“Why did he mention bellfounders, do you think?” Birgitte asked.
“It could be something as simple as needing a new bell to ring the hour for his camp.”
“But you don’t think it’s simple.”
“Mat’s involved,” Elayne said. “He has a way of complicating things, and the way he wrote that line makes it smell like one of his schemes.”
“True. And if he merely wanted a bell, he could win himself enough to buy it after an hour dicing.”
“Come now,” Elayne said. “He’s not that lucky.”
Birgitte snorted into her tea. “You need to pay better attention, Elayne. That man could dice with the Dark One and win.”
Elayne shook her head. Soldiers, Birgitte included, could be such a superstitious lot. “Make certain to have a few extra Guardswomen on duty when Mat comes. He can be exuberant, and I wouldn’t want him to make a scene.”
“Who is this man?” Dyelin asked, sounding confused.
“One of the other two ta’veren who grew up with Rand al’Thor,” Birgitte said, gulping down her tea. She’d given up drinking while Elayne was pregnant. At least someone else had to suffer too.
“Mat is…a particularly dynamic individual,” Elayne said. “He can be very useful when properly harnessed. When he is not—which is most of the time—he can be an outright disaster. But whatever else can be said about the man, he and his Band know how to fight.”
“You’re going to use them, aren’t you?” Birgitte said, eyeing her appreciatively.
“Of course,” Elayne said. “And, from what I remember Mat saying, he has a lot of Cairhienin in the Band. They are native sons. If I arrive with that section of the Band as part of my army, perhaps the transition will be easier.”
“So you really do intend to go through with this?” Dyelin asked. “Taking the Sun Throne? Now?”
“The world needs unity,” Elayne said, standing. “With Cairhien, I begin knitting us all together. Rand already controls Illian and Tear, and has bonds to the Aiel. We’re all connected.”
She glanced to the west, where she could feel that knot of emotions that was Rand. The only thing she ever sensed from him these days was a cold anger, buried deeply. Was he in Arad Doman?
Elayne loved him. But she didn’t intend to see Andor become merely another part of the Dragon’s empire. Besides, if Rand were to die at Shayol Ghul, who would rule that empire? It could break up, but she worried that someone—Darlin, perhaps—would be strong enough to hold it together. If so, Andor would stand alone between an aggressive Seanchan empire to the southwest, Rand’s successor to the northwest and the southeast and the Borderlanders united together in the north and northeast.
She could not let that happen. The woman in her cringed to think of planning for Rand’s death, but the Queen could not be so squeamish. The world was changing.
“I realize it will be difficult to administer two nations,” Elayne said. “But I must hold Cairhien. For the good of both thrones.”
She turned and met Dyelin’s eyes, and the older woman nodded slowly. “It seems you are committed.”
“I am,” Elayne said. “But I feel I’m going to need reliable use of Traveling if I’m going to manage it. Let’s set up a meeting for me with Sumeko and Alise. We need to discuss the future of the Kin.”
Chapter 12
An Empty Ink Bottle
Min sat on a window ledge in the Stone of Tear, enjoying the warmth.
The afternoon breeze was refreshing, laden though it was with humidity and the scents of the city below. The Tairens had been calling the weather “chilly,” which made Min smile. How would these folk respond to a good Andoran winter, with snow piled up at the sides of buildings and icicles hanging from the eaves?
All that could be said of the weather lately was that it was less sweltering than usual. The warmth that Min was enjoying, however, had nothing to do with the heat in the air.
Sunlight shone upon the city. In the Stone’s courtyards, Defenders in their striped sleeves and breeches kept stopping and looking up toward the open sky. The clouds still lurked on the horizon, but they were broken around the city in an unnatural ring. Perfectly circular.
The warmth that Min felt was not caused by the sunlight.
“How can you just sit there?” Nynaeve demanded.
Min turned her head. The window was wide open, and the walls of the Stone were thick. Min sat on the windowsill with her knees bent, her bare toes touching the wall on the other side. Her boots and stockings lay on the floor beside a stack of books.