Towers of midnight wot-13

by Robert Jordan

  Mat stepped up to the door, taking a deep breath. He had fought in dozens of skirmishes and battles without growing nervous. Now his hands were shaking. Why did he feel as if he were walking directly into an ambush without a scrap of armor on?

  Elayne. As Queen. Burn him, but this was going to hurt. He opened the door and strode in.

  His eyes found Elayne immediately. She sat beside a hearth, holding a cup of what appeared to be milk. She looked radiant in a gown of deep red and gold. Beautiful, full red lips that Mat would not have minded kissing, if he had not been a married man. Her red-gold hair seemed to shimmer in the hearthlight, and her cheeks were full of color. She seemed to have gained a little weight. Best not to mention that. Or should he? Sometimes women got angry when you mentioned that they looked different, and sometimes they got angry if you did not notice.

  She was a pretty thing. Not as pretty as Tuon, of course. Elayne was far too pale, and too tall, and had too much hair. It was distracting. Still, she was pretty. Seemed a waste as a queen. She would have made an excellent serving girl. Ah well. Somebody had to be Queen.

  Mat glanced at Birgitte, who was the only other one in the room. She looked the same. Always did, with that golden braid and high boots, like the hero from the bloody stories. Which was exactly what she was. It was good to see her again; she was one woman he knew who would not snap at him for speaking the truth.

  Thom stepped in beside him, and Mat cleared his throat. She would expected him to be formal. Well, he was not going to bow or scrape, and Elayne leaped out of her chair. She ran across the room as Birgitte closed the door. "Thom, I'm so glad that you're all right!" Elayne grabbed him in an embrace.

  "Hello, dear one," Thom said fondly. "I hear you've done well for yourself and for Andor."

  Elayne was crying! Mat pulled off his hat, befuddled. Sure, Thom and Elayne had been close, but Elayne was Queen now. Elayne turned toward Mat. "It's good to see you, Mat. Do not think that the Crown has forgotten your service to me. Bringing Thom back to Andor is another debt we owe you."

  "Well, um," Mat said. "It really wasn't anything, you know, Elayne. Burn me. You're Queen! How's that feel?"

  Elayne laughed, finally releasing Thom. "Such a way with words you have, Mat."

  "I'm not going to bow to you or anything," he warned. "Or bother with that 'Your Majesty' nonsense."

  "I wouldn't expect it," Elayne said. "Unless we're in public, of course. I mean, I have to keep up appearances for the people."

  "I suppose that's true," Mat agreed. It did make sense. He held out a hand to Birgitte, but she chuckled and gave him a hug, slapping him on the back like an old pal meeting for a mug of ale. And, well, perhaps that was what they were. Without the ale.

  He could have used some ale.

  "Come, sit," Elayne said, gesturing toward the chairs by the fire. "I'm sorry to make you wait so long, Mat."

  "It's nothing," he said. "You're busy."

  "It's embarrassing," she said. "One of my stewards lumped you with the mercenary groups. It's so hard to keep track of them all! If you wish, I'll give you leave to camp closer to the city. There's not room inside the walls for the Band, I'm afraid."

  "That won't be needed," Mat said, taking one of the seats. "Letting us move closer is kind enough. Thank you." Thom sat, and Birgitte preferred to stand, though she did join them by the hearth, leaning back against the stones.

  "You look well, Elayne," Thom said. "Is everything going well with the child?"

  "Children," Elayne corrected. "There will be twins. And yes, everything is well. Save for me having to be poked and prodded at nearly every opportunity."

  "Wait," Mat said. "What?" He glanced again at Elayne's stomach.

  Thom rolled his eyes. "Don't you ever listen when you're in the city gambling?"

  "I listen," Mat muttered. "Usually." He looked accusingly at Elayne. "Does Rand know about this?"

  She laughed. "I should hope he isn't too surprised."

  "Burn me!" Mat said. "He's the father!"

  "The father of my children is a matter of some speculation in the city," Elayne said solemnly. "And the Crown prefers there to be speculation, for the time. But enough about me! Thom, you have to tell me everything. How did you escape Ebou Dar?"

  "Forget Ebou Dar," Birgitte snapped. "How's Olver? Did you find him?"

  "We did," Thom said. "And he is well, though I fear the lad is destined for life as a professional soldier."

  "Not a bad life," Birgitte said. "Eh, Mat?"

  "There are worse," he said, still trying to get his legs underneath him. How had becoming Queen made Elayne less high-and-mighty? Had he missed something? She actually seemed agreeable now!

  Well, that was unfair. There were times when she had been agreeable before. They had merely been mixed between times when she had been ordering Mat around. He found himself smiling as Thom related the details of their escape and the capture of Tuon, followed by their travels with Master Luca's menagerie. Drawn from the quiver of a storyteller, the tale sounded a whole lot more impressive than it had been to live. Mat almost thought himself a hero, listening to Thom.

  Right before Thom got to the part about Tuon's marriage words, however, Mat coughed and cut in. "And we beat the Seanchan, fled into Murandy, and eventually found an Aes Sedai to get us here through a gateway. By the way, have you seen Verin lately?"

  "No," Elayne said. Thom eyed Mat with amusement.

  "Blast," Mat said. Well, there went his chance to use her for a gateway to the Tower of Ghenjei. He would worry about that later. He took the leather envelope from his belt, then opened it, taking out Aludra's papers. "Elayne," he said, "I need to talk to you."

  "Yes, you mentioned 'bellfounders' in your letter. What trouble have you gotten yourself into, Matrim Cauthon?"

  "That's not fair at all," he said, spreading out the sheets. "I'm not the one who gets into trouble. If I—"

  "You're not going to mention my getting captured in the Stone of Tear again are you?" she asked with a roll of her eyes. He stopped. "Of course not. That happened ages ago. I barely remember. She laughed, the pretty sound ringing in the room. He felt himself blushing. "Anyway, I'm not in trouble. I just need some resources."

  "What kind of resources?" Elayne asked, growing curious as he spread out the papers on the table next to her chair. Birgitte leaned down.

  "Well," Mat said, rubbing his chin. "There are three bellfounders in the city; I'll need those. And we're going to need some powders. They're listed on this page. And… we'll need a little bit of metal." He winced and handed her one of Aludra's lists.

  Elayne read the page, then blinked. "Are you mad?"

  "Sometimes I think I might be," he said. "But burn me, I think this will be worth the cost."

  "What is it?" Elayne asked as Birgitte looked over one of the sheets, then handed it to Elayne.

  "Aludra calls them dragons," Mat said. "Thom says you knew her?"

  "Yes, I did," Elayne said.

  "Well, these are launching tubes, like the ones for her fireworks. Only they're made of metal, and they're big. And instead of launching nightflowers, they launch these head-sized chunks of iron."

  "Why would you want to launch chunks of iron up into the air?" Elayne said, frown deepening.

  "You don't," Birgitte said, eyes opening wide. "You launch them at someone else's army."

  Mat nodded. "Aludra claims that one of these dragons could launch an iron ball as far as a mile."

  "Mother's milk in a cup!" Birgitte said. "You can't be serious."

  She is," Mat said. "And I believe her. You should see what she's created already, and she claims these will be her masterpiece. Look, she shows here the dragons firing on a city wall from a mile away. With fifty dragons and two hundred and fifty solders she could knock down a wall like the one around Caemlyn in a few hours."

  Elayne looked pale. Did she believe him? Would she be angry at him for wasting her time?

  "I know that won't be of much use in the
Last Battle," Mat said quickly. "Trollocs don't have walls. But look here. I had her design a spreading shot. Fire it on a line of Trollocs from four hundred paces, and one of these dragons will do the work of fifty bowmen. Burn me, Elayne, but we're going to be at a disadvantage. The Shadow can always toss more Trollocs at us than we have soldiers, and the bloody things are twice as hard to kill as a man. We need an advantage. I remember—"

  He cut himself off. He had been about to say he remembered the Trolloc Wars, which would not have been a good idea. A man could start some embarrassing rumors that way. "Look," he said. "I know this sounds outrageous, but you have to give it a chance."

  She looked up at him, and… was she crying again? What had he done?

  "Mat, I could kiss you," she declared. "This is exactly what I needed!"

  Mat blinked. What?

  Birgitte chuckled. "First Norry, now Mat. You'll have to watch yourself, Elayne. Rand will be jealous."

  Elayne snorted, looking down at the plans. "The bellfounders aren't going to like this. Most of the craftsmen were looking forward to getting back to daily work, following the siege."

  "Oh, I don't know about that, Elayne," Birgitte said. "I've known a craftsman or two in my time. To a person, they complain about royal privilege during war, but as long as the Crown compensates them, they're secretly happy. Steady work is always appreciated. Besides, something like this will make them curious."

  "We'll have to keep it secret," Elayne said.

  "So you'll do it?" Mat asked, surprised. He had not needed his secret bribe to distract her!

  "We'll need proof of one working first, of course," Elayne said. "But if these devices, these dragons, work half as well as Aludra claims… well, I'd be a fool not to put every man on them we can!"

  "That's right generous of you," Mat said, scratching his head.

  Elayne hesitated. "Generous?"

  "Building these for the Band."

  "For the Band… Mat, these will be for Andor!"

  "Here now," Mat said. "These are my plans."

  "And my resources!" Elayne said. She sat up straight, suddenly becoming more poised. "Surely you see that the Crown could offer a more stable and useful control for the deployment of these weapons."

  To the side, Thom was grinning.

  "What are you so happy about?" Mat demanded.

  "Nothing," Thom said. "You do your mother proud, Elayne."

  "Thank you, Thom," she said, favoring him with a smile.

  "Whose side are you on?" Mat said.

  "Everyone's," Thom said.

  "That's not a bloody side," Mat said, then looked back to Elayne. "I put a lot of effort and thought into getting these plans out of Aludra. I've nothing against Andor, but I don't trust anyone with these weapons who isn't me."

  "And if the Band were part of Andor?" Elayne asked. She really did sound like a queen all of a sudden.

  "The Band is beholden to nobody," Mat said.

  "That is admirable, Mat," Elayne said, "but it makes you mercenaries. I think that the Band deserves something more, something better. With official backing, you would have access to resources and authority. We could give you a commission in Andor, with your own command structure."

  It was actually tempting. Just a little. But it did not matter. He did not think Elayne would be happy to have him in her realm once she knew of his relationship with the Seanchan. He meant to return to Tuon eventually, somehow. If only to work out what she really felt about him.

  He had no intention of giving the Seanchan access to these dragons, but he did not fancy giving them to Andor, either. Unfortunately, he had to admit that there was no way he was going to have Andor build them without giving the weapons to the nation, too.

  "I don't want a commission for the Band," Mat said. "We're free men, and that's how we like it."

  Elayne looked troubled.

  "But I'd be willing to split the dragons with you," Mat said. "Some for us, some for you."

  "What if," Elayne said, "I built all of the dragons and owned all of them—but promised that only the Band could use them? No other forces would have access to them."

  "That would be kind of you," Mat said. "Suspicious, though. No offense."

  "It would be better for me if the noble Houses didn't have these, at least not at first. They will spread eventually. Weapons always do. I build them and promise to give them to the Band. No commission, just a contract, hiring you for a long term. You can go at any time. But if you do, you leave the dragons behind."

  Mat frowned. "Feels like you're wrapping a chain around my neck, Elayne."

  "I'm only suggesting reasonable solutions."

  "The day you become reasonable is the day I eat my hat," Mat said. "No offense."

  Elayne raised an eyebrow at him. Yes, she had become a queen. Just like that.

  "I want the right to keep a few of these dragons," Mat said, "if we leave. One-quarter to us, three-quarters to you. But we'll take your contract, and while we're in your employ, only we use them. As you said."

  Her frown deepened. Burn him, but she had grasped the power of those dragons quickly. He could not let her hesitate now. They needed the dragons to go into production immediately. And he was not about to let the chance of having them pass the Band by.

  Sighing to himself, Mat reached up and undid the strap at the back of his neck, then pulled the familiar foxhead medallion out of his shirt. The second he removed it, he felt more naked than if he had stripped bare. He set it on the table.

  Elayne glanced at it, and he could see a flash of desire in her eyes. "What is that for?"

  "It's a sweetener," Mat said, leaning forward, elbows on knees. "You get it for one day if you agree to start production on a prototype dragon this evening. I don't care what you do with the medallion—study it, write a bloody book about it, wear it about. But you return it tomorrow. Your word on it."

  Birgitte whistled slowly. Elayne had wanted to get her hands on that medallion the moment she discovered he had it. Of course, so had every other bloody Aes Sedai that Mat had met.

  "I get the Band in at least a one-year contract," Elayne said, "renewable. We'll pay you whatever you were earning in Murandy."

  How did she know about that?

  "You can cancel," she continued, "as long as you provide a month's warning—but I keep four dragons out of five. And any men who wish to join the Andoran military must be given the chance."

  "I want one out of four," Mat said. "And a new serving man."

  "A what?" Elayne said.

  "A serving man," Mat said. "You know, to take care of my clothing. You'd do a better job of picking than I would."

  Elayne looked at his coat, then up at his hair. "That," she said, "I'll give you regardless of how the other negotiations go."

  "One out of four?" Mat said.

  "I get the medallion for three days."

  He shivered. Three days, with the gholam in town. She would have him dead. It was already a gamble to give it to her for a day. But he could not think of anything else he could offer. "What do you even think you can do with the thing?" he asked.

  "Copy it," Elayne said absently, "if I'm lucky."

  "Really?"

  "I won't know until I study it."

  Mat suddenly had the horrifying image of every Aes Sedai in the world earing one of those medallions. He shared a look with Thom, who seemed equally surprised to hear this.

  But what did that matter? Mat could not channel. Before, he had worried that—if she studied it—Elayne might figure a way to touch him with the One Power when he was wearing it. But if she just wanted to copy it well, he found himself relieved. And intrigued.

  "There's been something I've been meaning to mention, Elayne," he said. "The gholam is here. In town. It's been killing people."

  Elayne remained calm, but he could tell from the way she was even more formal when she spoke that the news worried her. "Then I will be certain to return the medallion to you on time."

  He gr
imaced. "All right," he said. "Three days."

  "Very well," she said. "I want the Band to start immediately. I'll be Traveling to Cairhien soon, and I have a feeling they would be a better support force there than the Queen's Guard."

  So that was what this was about! Elayne was moving on the Sun Throne. Well, that seemed a good use for the men, at least until Mat needed them. Better than letting them sit around getting lazy and picking fights with sell-swords.

  "I agree to that," Mat said, "but Elayne, the Band has to be free to fight in the Last Battle, however Rand wants. And Aludra has to supervise the dragons. I have a feeling that she'll insist that she remain with you if the Band breaks off from Andor."

  "I have no issues with that," Elayne said, smiling.

  "I figured you wouldn't. But, just so we're clear, the Band has control of the dragons until we leave. You can't sell the technology to others."

  "Someone will replicate it, Mat," she said.

  "Copies won't be as good as Aludra's," Mat said. "I promise you that."

  Elayne studied him, blue eyes weighing him, judging him. "I'd still rather have the Band as a fully commissioned Andoran force."

  "Well, I wish I had a hat made all of gold, a tent that could fly and a horse that leaves droppings of diamonds. But we'll both have to settle with what's reasonable, won't we?"

  "It wouldn't be unreasonable to—"

  "We'd have to do what you said, Elayne," Mat replied. "I won't have it. Some battles aren't worth fighting, and I'm going to decide when my men put themselves at risk. That's that."

  "I don't like having men who could leave me at any time."

  "You know I won't hold them back merely to spite you," Mat said. "I'll do what's right."

  "What you see as being right," she corrected.

  "Every man should have that option," he replied,

  "Few men use it wisely."

  "We want it anyway," Mat said. "We demand it."

  She glanced—almost imperceptibly—toward the plans and the medallion on the table. "You have it," she said.