He had found Setalle at the supply tents, overseeing the midday meal. Soldiers from the Band hunkered down, chopping vegetables and stewing beans with the furtive expression of men who had been given firm instructions. Setalle was not needed here; the Band’s cooks had always been able to prepare meals without her. But there was nothing a woman liked better than finding men who were relaxing, then giving them orders. Besides, Setalle was a former innkeeper and—remarkably—a former Aes Sedai. Mat often found her supervising things that did not need supervising.
Not for the first time, he wished Tuon were still traveling with him. Setalle had usually taken Tuon’s side, but staying with the Daughter of the Nine Moons had often kept her busy. Nothing was more dangerous for the sanity of men than a woman with too much time on her hands.
Setalle still wore clothing of the Ebou Dari style, which Mat found pleasant, considering the plunging neckline. That kind of outfit worked particularly well on a woman as buxom as Setalle. Not that he noticed. She had golden hoops in her ears, a stately demeanor and gray in her hair. The jeweled wedding knife worn around her neck seemed something of a warning, the way it nestled in her cl**vage. Not that Mat noticed that, either.
“I’ve been growing the beard intentionally,” Mat said to her statement. “I want to—”
“Your coat is dirty,” she said, nodding to a soldier who brought her some onions he had peeled. He sheepishly poured them into a pot, not looking at Mat. “And your hair a mess. You look like you’ve been in a brawl, and it’s not yet noon.”
“I’m fine,” Mat said. “I’ll clean up later. You didn’t go with the Aes Sedai.”
“Each step toward Tar Valon would take me farther from where I need to be. I need to send word to my husband. When we parted, I didn’t suspect that I’d end up in Andor of all places.”
“I’m thinking I might be getting access to someone who can make gateways here soon,” Mat said. “And I…” He frowned as another group of soldiers approached, carrying a few undersized quail they’d hunted. The soldiers looked ashamed of the terrible catch.
Setalle ordered them to pluck the birds without so much as a glance toward Mat. Light, he needed to get her out of his camp. Things would not be normal here until they were all gone.
“Don’t look at me like that, Lord Mat,” Setalle said. “Noram went into the city to see what kind of provisions he could find. I’ve noted that without the cook himself here to prod the men, meals don’t get done at any reasonable speed. Not all of us like to take lunch when the sun is setting.”
“I didn’t say a thing,” Mat said, keeping his voice even. He nodded to the side. “Can we talk for a moment?”
Setalle hesitated, then nodded and stepped away from the others with him. “What’s going on really?” she said softly. “You look like you slept under a hay pile.”
“I slept under a wagon, actually. And my tent’s stained with blood. Not really looking forward to going there to change clothing right now.”
Her gaze softened. “I understand your loss. But that’s no excuse to go around looking like you’ve been living in an alleyway. You’ll need to hire another serving man.”
Mat scowled. “I never needed one in the first place. I can take care of myself. Look, I have a favor to ask of you. I want you to watch after Olver for a little while.”
“For what purpose?”
“That thing might come back,” Mat said. “And it could try to hurt him. Besides, I’m going to be leaving with Thom shortly. I might be back. I should be back. But if I don’t, I…Well, I would rather he not be left alone.”
She studied him. “He would not be alone. The men in camp seem to have a great deal of fondness for the child.”
“Sure, but I don’t like the things they’re teaching him. The boy needs better examples than that lot.”
She seemed amused by that for some reason. “I’ve already begun instructing the child in letters. I suppose I can watch after him for a time, if need be.”
“Great. Wonderful.” Mat let out a relieved sigh. Women were always happy for a chance to educate a boy when he was young; Mat thought they assumed they could educate him out of becoming a man if they tried hard enough. “I’ll give you some money. You can go into the city and find an inn.”
“I’ve been into the city,” Setalle said. “Every inn in the place seems packed to the walls already.”
“I’ll find a place for you,” Mat promised. “Just keep Olver safe. When the time comes, and I have someone to make gateways, I’ll have them send you to Illian so you can find your husband.”
“A deal,” Setalle said. She hesitated, glancing northward. “The…others are gone, then?”
“Yes.” Good riddance.
She nodded, looking regretful. Maybe she had not been ordering his men about for lunch because she had been offended at seeing them relax. Maybe she had been looking for something to busy herself at.
“I’m sorry,” Mat said. “About whatever happened to you.”
“The past is gone,” she replied. “And I need to leave it be. I should never have even asked to see the item you wear. These last few weeks have made me forget myself.”
Mat nodded, parting with her, then went searching for Olver. And after that, he really should get around to changing his coat. And burn him, he was going to shave, too. The men looking for him could bloody kill him if they wanted. A slit throat would be better than this itching.
Elayne strolled through the palace’s Sunrise Garden. This smaller garden had always been a favored location of her mother’s, set atop the roof of the palace’s eastern wing. It was rimmed by an oval of white stonework, with a larger, curved wall at the back.
Elayne had a full view of the city below. In earlier years, she had liked the lower gardens precisely because they were a retreat. It was in those gardens that she had first met Rand. She pressed a hand to her belly. Though she felt enormous, the pregnancy was only just beginning to show. Unfortunately, she’d had to commission an entirely new set of gowns. She would probably have to do so again in the coming months. What a bother.
Elayne continued to walk the roof garden. Pink jumpups and white morningstars bloomed in planters. The blossoms weren’t nearly as large as they should have been, and already they were wilting. The gardeners complained that nothing helped. Outside the city, grass and weeds were dying in swaths, and the patchwork quilt of fields and crops looked depressingly brown.
It is coming, Elayne thought. She continued on her way, walking a path made of springy grass, manicured and kept short. The gardeners’ efforts weren’t without some results. The grass here was mostly green, and the air smelled of the roses that wove their way up the sides of the wall. Those had brown spots on them, but they had bloomed.
A tinkling stream ran through the middle of the garden, lined in carefully placed river stones. That stream ran only when she visited; water had to be carried up to the cistern.
Elayne paused at another vantage point. A Queen couldn’t choose seclusion the way a Daughter-Heir could. Birgitte walked up beside her. She folded her arms across her red-coated chest, eyeing Elayne.
“What?” Elayne asked.
“You’re in full view,” Birgitte said. “Anyone down there with a bow and a good eye could throw the nation right back into a Succession war.”
Elayne rolled her eyes. “I’m safe, Birgitte. Nothing will happen to me.”
“Oh, well, I apologize,” Birgitte said flatly. “The Forsaken are loose and angry with you, the Black Ajah are undoubtedly furious that you’ve captured their agents, and you’ve humiliated various nobles who tried to seize the throne from you. Obviously you’re in no danger whatsoever. I’ll run along and take lunch, then.”
“You might as well,” Elayne snapped. “Because I am safe. Min had a viewing. My babes will be born healthy. Min is never wrong, Birgitte.”
“Min said your babies would be strong and healthy,” Birgitte said. “Not that you would be healthy when they arrived.”
“How else would they come?”
“I’ve seen people knocked in the head so hard that they’re never the same, girl,” Birgitte said. “Some live for years, but never speak another word and have to be fed broth and live with a bedpan. You could lose an arm or two and still bear healthy children. And what about the people around you? Give you no thought to the danger you could cause them?”
“I feel bad for Vandene and Sareitha,” Elayne said. “And for those men who died to rescue me. Don’t dare imply that I feel no responsibility for them! But a queen must be willing to accept the burden of letting others die in her name. We discussed this, Birgitte. We decided that there was no way I could have known that Chesmal and the others would arrive as they did.”
“We decided,” Birgitte said through clenched teeth, “that there was no use arguing any further. But I want you to keep in mind that any number of things could still go wrong.”
“They won’t,” Elayne said, looking out over the city. “My children will be safe, and that means I will be, too. We have until their birth.”
Birgitte let out an exasperated sigh. “Foolish, stubborn….” She trailed off as one of the nearby Guardswomen waved to get her attention. Two of the Kin stepped onto the roof. Elayne had asked them to come meet with her.
Birgitte took up a position beside one of the short cherry trees, her arms folded. The two Kinswomen wore unadorned dresses, Sumeko in yellow, Alise in blue. Alise was the shorter of the two, with gray streaking her brown hair, and she was weaker in the Power, so she hadn’t slowed in aging as much as Sumeko.
Both women had grown more firm of step lately. No further Kinswomen had disappeared or been murdered; Careane had been behind the killings all along. A member of the Black, hiding among them. Light, but thinking of it made Elayne’s skin crawl!
“Your Majesty,” Alise said, curtsying. She spoke with a calm, smooth voice and a faint Taraboner accent.
“Your Majesty,” Sumeko said as well, mimicking her companion’s curtsy. The two were deferential—more so to Elayne than they were to other Aes Sedai these days. Nynaeve had given the Kin in general a backbone in regards to the Aes Sedai and the White Tower, though Alise hadn’t ever struck Elayne as needing it.
During the siege, Elayne had started to regard the Kinswomen’s attitudes with annoyance. Recently, however, she’d been wondering. They had been extremely useful to her. How high would their newfound boldness lead them?
Elayne nodded to each of the Kin in turn, then gestured toward a trio of chairs that had been placed in the shade of the drooping cherry trees. The three seated themselves, the stream winding its contrived way past them to the left. There was mint tea. The other two took a cup each, but were careful to add generous amounts of honey. Tea tasted terrible these days without it.