Tallanvor gave him a tight-mouthed stare, then finally took his sword away. Mat swallowed and stopped himself from touching his throat to see if he had been cut.
"Take the flower out of your hair," Tallanvor said as he sheathed his blade. "Do you think you came here courting?"
Mat snatched the starblaze blossom out of his hair and followed the officer. Bloody fool, putting a flower in my hair. I have to stop playing the fool, now.
It was not so much following, really, for Tallanvor kept an eye on him even while he led the way. The result was an odd sort of procession, with the officer to one side of him and ahead, but half turned in case Mat tried anything. For his part, Mat attempted to look as innocent as a babe splashing in his bathwater.
The colorful tapestries on the walls had earned their weavers silver, and so had the rugs on the white tile floors, even here in the halls. Gold and silver stood everywhere, plates and platters, bowls and cups, on chests and low cabinets of polished wood, as fine as anything he had seen in the Tower. Servants darted everywhere, in red livery with white collars and cuffs and the White Lion of Andor on their breasts. He found himself wondering if Morgase played at dice. Wool-headed thought. Queens don't toss dice. But when I give her this letter and tell her somebody in her Palace means to kill Elayne, I'll wager she gives me a fat purse. He indulged himself in a small fancy of being made a lord; surely the man who revealed a plot to murder the Daughter-Heir could expect some such reward.
Tallanvor led him down so many corridors and across so many courtyards that he was beginning to wonder if he could find his way out again without help, when suddenly one of the courts had more than servants in it. A columned walk surrounded the court, with a round pool in the middle with white and yellow fish swimming beneath lilypads and floating white waterlilies. Men in colorful coats embroidered in gold or silver, women with wide dresses worked even more elaborately, stood attendance on a woman with red-gold hair who sat on the raised rim of the pool, trailing her fingers in the water and staring sadly at the fish that rose to her fingertips in hopes of food. A Great Serpent ring encircled the third finger of her left hand. A tall, dark man stood at her shoulder, the red silk of his coat almost hidden by the gold leaves and scrolls worked on it, but it was the woman who held Mat's eye.
He did not need the wreath of finely made golden roses in her hair, or the stole hanging over her dress of white slashed with red, the red length of the stole embroidered with the Lions of Andor, to know he was looking at Morgase, by the Grace of the Light, Queen of Andor, Defender of the Realm, Protector of the People, High Seat of House Trakand. She had Elayne's face and beauty, but it was what Elayne would have when she had ripened. Every other woman in the courtyard faded into the background by her very presence.
I'd dance a jig with her, and steal a kiss in the moonlight, too, no matter how old she is. He shook himself. Remember exactly who she is!
Tallanvor went to one knee, a fist pressed to the white stone of the courtyard. "My Queen, I bring a messenger who bears a letter from the Lady Elayne."
Mat eyed the man's posture, then contented himself with a deep bow. "From the Daughter-Heir… uh… my Queen." He held out the letter as he bowed, so the golden yellow wax of the seal was visible. Once she reads it, and knows Elayne is all right, I will tell her. Morgase turned her deep blue eyes on him. Light! As soon as she's in a good mood.
"You bring a letter from my scapegrace child?" Her voice was cold, but with an edge that spoke of heat ready to rise. "That must mean she is alive, at least! Where is she?"
"In Tar Valon, my Queen," he managed to get out. Light, wouldn't I like to see a staring match between her and the Amyrlin. On second thought, he decided he would rather not. "At least, she was when I left."
Morgase waved a hand impatiently, and Tallanvor rose to take the letter from Mat and hand it to her. For a moment she frowned at the lily seal, then broke it with a sharp twist of her wrists. She murmured to herself as she read, shaking her head at every other line. "She can say no more, can she?" she muttered. "We shall see whether she holds to that…" Abruptly her face brightened. "Gaebril, she has been raised to the Accepted. Less than a year in the Tower, and raised already." The smile went as suddenly as it had come, and her mouth tightened. "When I put my hands on the wretched child, she will wish she were still a novice."
Light, Mat thought, will nothing put her in a good mood? He decided he was just going to have to say it out, but he wished she did not look as if she meant to cut someone's head off. "My Queen, by chance I overheard —"
"Be silent, boy," the dark man in the gold-encrusted coat said calmly. He was a handsome man, almost as good-looking as Galad and nearly as youthful-seeming, despite the white streaking his temples, but built on a bigger scale, with more than Rand's height and very nearly Perrin's shoulders. "We will hear what you have to say in a moment." He reached over Morgase's shoulder and plucked the letter out of her hand. Her glare turned on him — Mat could see her temper heating — but the dark man laid a strong hand on her shoulder, never taking his eyes off what he was reading, and Morgase's anger melted. "It seems she has left the Tower again," he said. "On the service of the Amyrlin Seat. The woman oversteps herself again, Morgase."
Mat had no trouble holding his tongue. Luck. It was stuck to the roof of his mouth. Sometimes I don't know if it's good or bad. The dark man was the owner of the deep voice, the "Great Master" who wanted Elayne's head. She called him Gaebril. Her advisor wants to murder Elayne? Light! And Morgase was staring up at him like an adoring dog with her master's hand on her shoulder.
Gaebril turned nearly black eyes on Mat. The man had a forceful gaze, and a look of knowing. "What can you tell us of this, boy?"
"Nothing… uh… my Lord." Mat cleared his throat; the man's stare was worse than the Amyrlin's. "I went to Tar Valon to see my sister. She's a novice. Else Grinwell. I'm Thom Grinwell, my Lord. The Lady Elayne learned I was meaning to see Caemlyn on my way back home — I'm from Comfrey, my Lord; a little village north of Baerlon; I'd never seen any place bigger than Baerlon before I went to Tar Valon — and she — the Lady Elayne, I mean — gave me that letter to bring." He thought Morgase had glanced at him when he said he came from north of Baerlon, but he knew there was a village called Comfrey there; he remembered hearing it mentioned.
Gaebril nodded, but he said, "Do you know where Elayne was going, boy? Or on what business? Speak the truth, and you have nothing to fear. Lie, and you will be put to the question."
Mat did not have to pretend a worried frown. "My Lord, I only saw the Daughter-Heir the once. She gave me the letter — and a gold mark! — and told me to bring it to the Queen. I know no more of what is in it than I've heard here." Gaebril appeared to consider it, with no sign on that dark face of whether he believed a word or not.
"No, Gaebril," Morgase said suddenly. "Too many have been put to the question. I can see the need as you have shown it to me, but not for this. Not a boy who only brought a letter whose contents he does not know."
"As my Queen commands, so shall it be," the dark man said. The tone was respectful, but he touched her cheek in a way that made color come to her face and her lips part as if she expected a kiss.
Morgase drew an unsteady breath. "Tell me, Thom Grinwell, did my daughter look well when you saw her?"
"Yes, my Queen. She smiled, and laughed, and showed a saucy tongue — I mean…"
Morgase laughed softly at the look on his face. "Do not be afraid, young man. Elayne does have a saucy tongue, far too often for her own good. I am happy she is well." Those blue eyes studied him deeply. "A young man who has left his small village often finds it difficult to return to it. I think you will travel far before you see Comfrey again. Perhaps you will even return to Tar Valon. If you do, and if you see my daughter, tell her that what is said in anger is often repented. I will not remove her from the White Tower before time. Tell her that I often think of my own time there, and miss the quiet talks with Sheriam in her study. Tell h
er that I said that, Thom Grinwell."
Mat shrugged uncomfortably. "Yes, my Queen. But… uh… I do not mean to go to Tar Valon again. Once in any man's life is enough. My da needs me to help work the farm. My sisters will be stuck with the milking, with me gone."
Gaebril laughed, a deep rumble of amusement. "Are you anxious then to milk cows, boy? Perhaps you should see something of the world before it changes. Here!" He produced a purse and tossed it; Mat felt coins through the wash-leather when he caught it. "If Elayne can give you a gold mark for carrying her letter, I will give you ten for bringing it safely. See the world before you go back to your cows."
"Yes, my Lord." Mat liked the purse and managed a weak grin. "Thank you, my Lord."
But the dark man had already waved him away and turned to Morgase with his fists on his hips. "I think the time has come, Morgase, to lance that festering sore on the border of Andor. By your marriage to Taringail Damodred, you have a claim to the Sun Throne. The Queen's Guards can make that claim as strong as any. Perhaps I can even aid them, in some small way. Hear me."
Tallanvor touched Mat on the arm, and they backed away, bowing. Mat did not think anyone noticed. Gaebril was still speaking, and every lord and lady seemed to hang on his words. Morgase was frowning as she listened, yet she nodded as much as any other.
Chapter 47
(Dice)
To Race the Shadow
From the small courtyard with its pool of fish, Tallanvor led Mat swiftly to the great court at the front of the Palace, behind the tall, gilded gates gleaming in the sun. It would be midday, soon. Mat felt an urge to be gone, a need to hurry. It was hard keeping his pace to the young officer's. Someone might wonder, if he started running, and maybe — just maybe — things had really been the way they seemed back there. Maybe Gaebril really did not suspect that he knew. Maybe. He remembered those nearly black eyes, seizing and holding like a pair of pitchfork tines through his head. Light, maybe. He forced himself to walk as if he had all the time in the world — Just a haybrain country lout staring at the rugs and the gold. Just a mudfoot who'd never think anyone might put a knife in his back — until Tallanvor let him through a sallyport in one of the gates, and followed him out.
The fat officer with the rat's eyes was still there with the Guards, and when he saw Mat his face went red again. Before he could open his mouth, though, Tallanvor spoke. "He has delivered a letter to the Queen from the Daughter-Heir. Be glad, Elber, that neither Morgase nor Gaebril knows you tried to keep it from them. Lord Gaebril was most interested in the Lady Elayne's missive."
Elber's face went from red to as white as his collar. He glared once at Mat, and scuttled back along the line of guardsmen, his beady eyes peering through the bars of their face-guards as if to determine whether any of them had seen his fear.
"Thank you," Mat told Tallanvor, and meant it. He had forgotten all about the fat man until he was staring him in the face again. "Fare you well, Tallanvor."
He started across the oval plaza, trying not to walk too fast, and was surprised when Tallanvor walked along. Light, is he Gaebril's man, or Morgase's? He was just beginning to feel an itch between his shoulder blades, as if a knife might be about to go in — He doesn't know, burn me! Gaebril doesn't suspect I know! — when the young officer finally spoke.
"Did you spend long in Tar Valon? In the White Tower? Long enough to learn anything of it?"
"I was only there three days," Mat said cautiously. He would have made the time less — if he could have delivered the letter without admitting ever being in Tar Valon, he would have — but he did not think the man would believe he had gone all that way to see his sister and left the same day. What under the Light is he after? "I learned what I saw in that time. Nothing of any importance. They did not guide me around and tell me things. I was only there to see Else."
"You must have heard something, man. Who is Sheriam? Does talking to her in her study mean anything?"
Mat shook his head vigorously to keep relief from showing on his face. "I don't know who she is," he said truthfully. Perhaps he had heard Egwene, or perhaps Nynaeve, mention the name. An Aes Sedai, maybe? "Why should it mean anything?"
"I do not know," Tallanvor said softly. "There is too much I do not know. Sometimes I think she is trying to say something…" He gave Mat a sharp look. "Are you a loyal Andorman, Thom Grinwell?"
"Of course I am." Light, if I say that much more often, I may start believing it. "What about you? Do you serve Morgase and Gaebril loyally?"
Tallanvor gave him a look as hard as the dice's mercy. "I serve Morgase, Thom Grinwell. Her, I serve to the death. Fare you well!" He turned and strode back toward the Palace with a hand gripping his sword hilt.
Watching him go, Mat muttered to himself. "I will wager this" — he gave Gaebril's wash-leather purse a toss — "that Gaebril says the same." Whatever games they played in the Palace, he wanted no place in any of them. And he meant to make sure Egwene and the others were out of them, too. Fool women! Now I have to keep their bacon from burning instead of looking after my own! He did not start to run until the streets hid him from the Palace.
When he came dashing into The Queen's Blessing, nothing very much had changed in the library. Thom and the innkeeper still sat over the stones board — a different game, he saw from the positions of the stones, but no better for Gill — and the calico cat was back on the table, washing herself. A tray holding their unlit pipes and the remains of a meal for two sat near the cat, and his belongings were gone from the armchair. Each man had a wine cup at his elbow.
"I will be leaving, Master Gill," he said. "You can keep the coin and take a meal out of it. I'll stay long enough to eat, but then I am on the road to Tear."
"What is your hurry, boy?" Thom seemed to be watching the cat more than the board. "We only just arrived here."
"You delivered the Lady Elayne's letter, then?" the innkeeper said eagerly. "And kept your skin whole, it seems. Did you really climb over that wall like the other young man? No, that does not matter. Did the letter soothe Morgase? Do we still have to keep tiptoeing on eggs, man?"
"I suppose it soothed her," Mat said. "I think it did." He hesitated a moment, bouncing Gaebril's purse on his hand. It made a clinking sound. He had not looked to see if it really held ten gold marks; the weight was about right. "Master Gill, what can you tell me of Gaebril? Aside from the fact that he does not like Aes Sedai. You said he had not been in Caemlyn long?"
"Why do you want to know about him?" Thom asked. "Basel, are you going to place a stone or not?" The innkeeper sighed and stuck a black stone on the board, and the gleeman shook his head.
"Well, lad," Gill said, "there is not much to tell. He came out of the west during the winter. Somewhere out your way, I think. Maybe it was the Two Rivers. I've heard the mountains mentioned."
"We have no lords in the Two Rivers," Mat said. "Maybe there are some up around Baerlon. I do not know."
"That could be it, lad. I had never even heard of him before, but I do not keep up with the country lords. Came while Morgase was still in Tar Valon, he did, and half the city was afraid the Tower was going to make her disappear, too. The other half did not want her back. The riots started up again, the way they did last year at the tail of winter."
Mat shook his head. "I do not care about politics, Master Gill. It's Gaebril I want to know about." Thom frowned at him, and began cleaning the dottle from his long-stemmed pipe with a straw.
"It is Gaebril I am telling you about, lad," Gill said. "During the riots, he made himself leader of the faction supporting Morgase — got himself wounded in the fighting, I hear — and by the time she returned, he had it all suppressed. Gareth Bryne didn't like Gaebril's methods — he can be a very hard man — but Morgase was so pleased to find order restored that she named him to the post Elaida used to hold."
The innkeeper stopped. Mat waited for him to go on, but he did not. Thom thumbed his pipe full of tabac and walked over to light a spill at a small lamp kept f
or the purpose on the mantel above the fireplace.
"What else?" Mat asked. "The man has to have a reason for what he does. If he marries Morgase, would he be king when she dies? If Elayne were dead, too, I mean?"
Thom choked lighting his pipe, and Gill laughed. "Andor has a queen, lad. Always a queen. If Morgase and Elayne both died — the Light send it not so! — then Morgase's nearest female relative would take the throne. At least there is no question of who that is this time — a cousin, the Lady Dyelin — not like the Succession, after Tigraine vanished. It took a year before Morgase sat on the Lion Throne, then. Dyelin could keep Gaebril as her advisor, or marry him to cement the line — though she would not likely do that unless Morgase had had a child by him — but he would be the Prince Consort even then. No more than that. Thank the Light, Morgase is a young woman, yet. And Elayne is healthy. Light! The letter did not say she is ill, did it?"
"She is well." For now, at least. "Isn't there anything else you can tell me about him? You do not seem to like him. Why?"
The innkeeper frowned in thought, and scratched his chin, and shook his head. "I suppose I would not like him marrying Morgase, but I do not truly know why. He's said to be a fine man; the nobles all look to him. I do not like most of the men he's brought into the Guards. Too much has changed since he came, but I cannot lay it all at his door. There just seem to be too many people muttering in corners since he came. You would think we were all Cairhienin, the way they were before this civil war, all plotting and trying to find advantage. I keep having bad dreams since Gaebril came, and I am not the only one. Fool thing to worry about, dreams. It is probably only worry about Elayne, and what Morgase means to do concerning the White Tower, and people acting like Cairhienin. I just do not know. Why are you asking all these questions about Lord Gaebril?"
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