They were the ones who had hanged Mat; the snakes, at least, had only tossed him out of their realm without any useful answers. He bore them a grudge, but the foxes . . . they had refused to answer his questions, and had given him these bloody memories instead!
Mat and the others continued down the hallway, their footsteps echoing against the flooring. Soon, Mat began to get the sense that he was being watched. He had felt it before, on his other visits. He turned to the side, and caught a glimpse of faint motion far behind.
He spun, preparing to toss his torch aside and fight with his ashandarei, but saw nothing. The other two froze, looking about, anxious. Mat continued on sheepishly, though he felt less so after Thorn did the same thing a short time later. Thorn went so far as to throw a knife at a darkened patch of the wall.
The iron weapon clanked against the surface. The dull ring echoed for far too long in the hallway.
"Sorry," Thorn said.
"It's all right," Mat said.
"They're watching us, aren't they?" Noal asked. His voice was soft faintly nervous. Light! Mat felt as if he was going to jump out of his skin and run away, leaving it behind. Compared to that, Noal seemed steady.
"I suspect they are, at that," Mat said.
Within a few moments, they reached the end of the too-long hallway Here, they entered a chamber that was identical to the first, save it had no doorway in the center. It split off in four directions, each corridor disappearing into the distant darkness.
They picked another direction, memorizing the path they were taking, unseen eyes scratching at their backs. His footsteps grew more hurried as they traversed the length of the hallway and entered another chamber. It was exactly like the previous one.
"Easy to be disoriented in a place like this," Noal said. He opened his pack and got out a sheet of paper and a charcoal pencil. He made three dots on his paper, then connected them by lines, representing the corridors and rooms they'd gone through. "It's all a matter of keeping a good map. A good map can mean life or death; you can trust me on that."
Mat turned around, looking back the way they had come. Part of him wanted to keep going, not look backward, but he had to know. "Come on," he said, going back the way they had come.
Thorn and Noal shared looks, but once again hurried to catch up. It took them a good half-hour to retrace their steps back to the first chamber, the one that should contain the doorway. They found it empty. Those columns of steam rose from the corners. They had in the other two rooms, too.
"Impossible!" Noal said. "We retraced our steps perfectly! The way out should be here."
In the distance—faint and almost inaudible—Mat heard laughter. A hissing, dangerous laughter. Malicious.
Mat's skin grew icy. "Thorn," he said, "you ever hear a story about Birgitte Silverbow and her visit to the Tower of Ghenjei?"
"Birgitte?" Thom asked, looking up from his inspection—with Noal—of the floor. They seemed convinced that the doorway must have been pulled down into some hidden trapdoor. "No, can't say that I have.
"What about a story of a woman trapped for two months in a maze of corridors inside a fortress?"
"Two months?" Thom said. "Well, no. But there's the tale of Elmiara and the Shadoweyes. She spent a hundred days wandering in a maze, looking for the infamous healing spring of Sund to save her lover's life."
That was probably it. The story had survived; it had changed forms, the way so many of them did. "She didn't get out, did she?"
"No. She died at the end, only two steps away from the fountain, but separated from it by a wall. She could hear it bubbling; it was the last sound she heard before dying from thirst." He glanced about uncomfortably, as if uncertain he wanted to be sharing such a story in this place.
Mat shook his head, worried. Burn him, but he hated these foxes. There had to be a way to—
"You have broken the bargain," a soft voice said.
Mat spun and the other two cursed, standing up, hands on weapons. A figure stood in the hallway behind them. It was one of the creatures Mat remembered, perhaps the exact same one who had met him last time. Short, bright red hair sprouted from the creature's pale scalp. A pair of ears clung to the head, slightly pointed at the tips. The figure was willowy and tall, the shoulders disproportionately wide for the waist, and it wore pale leather straps crossed the chest—Mat still did not want to think about what those might have been made of—and a long black kilt below.
It was the face that was most distinctive. Large, unnatural eyes, pale with a shade of iris in the center. A narrow jaw and angular features. Like a fox. One of the Eelfinn, masters of this realm.
It had come to play with the mice.
"There is no bargain this way," Mat said, trying to keep the nervousness from his voice. "We can bloody bring what we want."
"Having no bargain is dangerous," the Eelfinn said in a smooth voice. "For you. Fortunately, I can take you where you desire."
"Well, then," Mat said. "Do it."
"Leave your iron," the Eelfinn said. "Your implements of music. Your fire."
"Never," Mat said.
The Eelfinn blinked large eyes. Slowly, deliberately. It stepped forward, footsteps soft. Mat raised his ashandarei, but the Eelfinn made no directly threatening moves. It glided around the three of them, speaking softly.
"Come now," it said. "Can we not speak with civility? You have come to our realm seeking. We have power to grant what you wish, what you need. Why not show good faith? Leave behind your implements of fire. Those only, and I promise to lead you for a time."
Its voice was hypnotic, soothing. It did make sense. What need had they of fire? It was light enough with that mist. It . . .
"Thorn," Mat said. "Music."
"What?" Thorn said, shaking a little bit.
"Play anything. It doesn't matter what."
Thorn took out his flute, and the Eelfinn narrowed its eyes. Thorn began playing. It was a familiar song, "The Wind That Shakes the Willows" Mat had intended to soothe the Eelfinn, maybe put it off guard. But the familiar tune seemed to help dispel the cloud on Mat's mind.
"This isn't needed," the Eelfinn said, glaring at Thorn.
"Yes it is," Mat said. "And we're not bloody leaving our fire. Not unless you promise to take us all the way to the central chamber and give us back Moiraine."
"I cannot make that bargain," the creature said, continuing to walk around them. Mat turned to follow it, never letting his back to the thing. "I have not the authority."
"Bring someone who can."
"Impossible," the Eelfinn said. "Listen to me. Fire isn't needed. I will lead you half of the way to the central chamber, the Chamber of Bonds, should you leave behind that terrible fire. It offends us. We wish only to meet your desires."
The creature was obviously trying to lull them again, but its cadence was off, at odds with Thorn's playing. Mat watched it, then began to sing along with the flute playing. He did not have the best voice among those he knew, but he was not terrible either. The Eelfinn yawned, then settled down beside the wall and closed its eyes. In moments, it was sleeping.
Thorn lowered the flute form his lips, looking impressed.
"Nicely done," Noal whispered. "I had no idea you were so fluent in the Old Tongue."
Mat hesitated. He had not even realized they had been speaking in it.
"My Old Tongue is rusty," Noal said, rubbing his chin, "but I caught a lot of that. Problem is, we still don't know the way through this place. How will we make our way without one of them to guide us?"
He was right. Birgitte had wandered for months, never knowing if her goal was merely a few steps away. The chamber where Mat had met the Eelfinn leaders . . . she had said that once you were there, they had to bargain with you. That must be the Chamber of Bonds the Eelfinn had mentioned.
Poor Moiraine. She had come through one of the red doorways; she should have been protected by whatever treaty the Eelfinn had with the ancient Aes Sedai. But that doorway had been dest
royed. No way back.
When Mat had come originally, they had praised him as wise for thinking to ask for a leave-taking. Though he grumbled, still, about the Eelfinn not answering his questions, he could see that was not what they
did. The Aelfinn were for questions; the Eelfinn granted requests. But they twisted those requests, and took whatever price they wanted. Mat had unwittingly asked for his memory filled, for a way to be free of the Aes Sedai, and a way out of the Tower.
If Moiraine had not known this, and had not asked for passage out as he had done ... or if she had asked for passage back to the doorway, not knowing it had been destroyed. . . .
Mat had asked for a way out. They had given it to him, but he could not remember what it was. Everything had gone black, and he had awakened hanging from the ashandarei.
Mat pulled something from his pocket, holding it tightly in his fist. "The Aelfinn and the Eelfinn get around in here somehow," his whispered. "There has to be a correct pathway."
"One way," Noal said. "Four choices, followed by four choices, followed by four choices . . . The odds against us are incredible!"
"Odds," Mat said, holding out his hand. He opened it, revealing a pair of dice. "What do / care for odds?"
The two looked at his ivory dice, then looked back up at his face. Mat could feel his luck surge. "Twelve pips. Three for each doorway. If I roll a one, a two, or a three, we go straight. Four, five, or six, we take the right path, and so on."
"But Mat," Noal whispered, glancing at the sleeping Eelfinn. "The rolls won't be equal. You can't roll a one, for example, and a seven is far more likely to—"
"You don't understand, Noal," Mat said, tossing the dice to the floor. They rattled against the scale-like tiles, clacking like teeth. "It doesn't matter what is likely. Not when I'm around."
The dice came to a rest. One of them caught in a rut between two tiles and froze precariously, one of the corners to the air. The other came to rest with a single pip showing.
"How about that, Noal," Thorn said. "Looks like he can roll a one after all."
"Now that's something," Noal said, rubbing his chin.
Mat fetched his ashandarei, then picked up the dice and walked straight ahead. The others followed, leaving the sleeping Eelfinn behind.
At the next intersection, Mat rolled again, and got a nine. "Back the way we came?" Thorn asked, frowning. "That's—"
"Just what we're going to do," Mat said, turning and going back. In the other room, the sleeping Eelfinn was gone.
"They could have wakened him," Noal pointed out.
"Or it could be a different room," Mat said, tossing the dice again. Another nine. He was facing the way he had come, so a nine meant going back again. "The Aelfinn and the Eelfinn have rules," Mat said, turning and running down the corridor, the other two chasing after him. "And this place has rules."
"Rules have to make sense, Mat," Noal said.
"They have to be consistent," Mat said. "But they don't have to follow our logic. Why should they?"
It made sense to him. They ran for a time—this hallway seemed much longer than the others. He was starting to feel winded when he reached the next room. He tossed the dice again, but suspected what he would see Nine. Back to the first room again.
"Look, this is foolish!" Noal said as they turned and ran back the other way. "We're never going to get anywhere this way!"
Mat ignored him, continuing to run. Soon they approached the first room again.
"Mat," Noal said, pleadingly. "Can we at least. . . ."
Noal trailed off as they burst into the first chamber. Only it was not the first chamber. This room had a white floor, and was enormous, with thick, black columns rising toward an unseen ceiling far above.
The glowing white steam that pooled atop their corridor poured into the room and fell upward into that blackness, like a waterfall going in the wrong direction. Though the floor and the columns looked like glass, Mat knew they would feel porous, like stone. The room was lit by a series of glowing yellow stripes that ran up each column, marking places where the carved glass-stone was fluted to a point.
Thorn clapped him on the shoulder. "Mat, lad, that was insane. And effective. Somehow."
"About what you should expect from me," Mat said, pulling down the brim of his hat. "I've been in this room before. We're on track. If Moiraine still lives, then she'll be somewhere past here."
CHAPTER
54
The Light of the World
Thom held up his torch, inspecting the enormous star-shaped black columns and their glowing yellow lines. Those lines gave the entire room a sickly light, making Thorn look wan and jaundiced.
Mat remembered the stink of this place, that musty staleness. Now that he knew what to look for, he could smell something else, too. The musky stink of an animal's den. A predator's lair.
There were five corridors leading out of the room, one at each inner point of the star shape. He remembered passing through one of those passageways, but had there not been only one way out before?
"Wonder how high up the pillars go," Thorn said, raising his torch higher and squinting.
Mat held his ashandarei in a firmer grip, palms sweaty. They had entered the foxes' den. He felt at his medallion. The Eelnnn had not used the Power on him before, but they had to have some understanding of it, did they not? Of course, Ogier could not channel. Perhaps that meant Eelfinn could not either.
Rustling sounds came from the edges of the room. Shadows shifted and moved. The Eelnnn were in there, in that darkness. "Thorn," Mat said. "We should play some more music."
Thorn watched that darkness. He did not object; he raised his flute and began playing. The sound seemed lonely in the vast room.
"Mat," Noal said, kneeling near the center of the room. "Look at this."
"I know," Mat said. "It looks like glass but feels like stone."
"No, not that," Noal said. "There's something here."
Mat edged over to Noal. Thorn joined them, watching and playing as Noal used his lantern to illuminate a melted lump of slag on the floor, perhaps the size of a small chest. It was black, but a deeper, less reflective black than the floor and the columns.
"What do you make of it?" Noal asked. "Maybe one of the trapdoors?"
"No," Mat said. "It's not that."
The other two looked at him.
"It's the doorframe," Mat said, feeling sick. "The red stone doorframe. When I came through it before, it was in the center of a room like this. When it melted on the other side . . ."
"It melted here too," Noal said.
The three stared at it. Thorn's music sounded haunting.
"Well," Mat said. "We knew it wasn't a way out in the first place. We'll have to bargain our way free." And I'll make bloody sure not to get hanged this time.
"Will the dice lead us?" Noal asked, rising.
Mat felt them in his coat pocket. "I don't see why not." But he did not take them out. He turned to regard the depths of the room. Thorn's music seemed to have stilled some of the shadows. But others still moved. There was a restless energy to the air.
"Mat?" Thorn asked.
"You knew I'd come back," Mat said loudly. His voice did not echo. Light! How large was the thing? "You knew I'd come marching back to your bloody realm, didn't you? You knew you'd have me eventually."
Hesitant, Thorn lowered his flute.
"Show yourselves!" Mat said. "I can hear you scrambling, hear you breathing."
"Mat," Thom said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "They couldn't have known that you'd come back. Moiraine didn't know that you'd come for certain."
Mat watched the darkness. "You ever see men lead cattle to slaughter, Thom?"
The gleeman hesitated, then shook his head.
"Well, every man has his own ways," Mat said. "But cattle, see, they'll know something is wrong. They'll smell the blood. They'll get frenzied, refuse to enter the slaughterhouse. And you know how you fix that?"
"Do we h
ave to talk about this now, Mat?"
"You fix it," Mat said, "by taking them through the slaughterhouse a
few times when it is clean, when the scents aren't so strong. You let them go through and escape, see, and they'll think the place is safe." He looked at Thom. "They knew I'd be back. They knew I'd survive that hanging. They know things, Thom. Burn me, but they do."
"We'll get out, Mat," Thom promised. "We can. Moiraine saw it."
Mat nodded firmly. "Bloody right we will. They're playing a game, Thom. I win games." He pulled a handful of dice from his pocket. 1 win them most of the time, anyway.
A voice whispered suddenly from behind them. "Welcome, son of battles."
Mat spun, cursing, glancing about the chamber.
"There," Noal said, pointing with his staff. There was a figure beside one of the pillars, half lit by the yellow light. Another Eelfinn. Taller, his face more angular. His eyes reflected torchlight. Orange.
"I can take you where you wish to go," the Eelfinn said, voice rough and gravelly. He raised an arm against the glow of the torches. "For a price."
"Thom, music."
Thom began playing again.
"One of you already tried to get us to leave our tools behind," Mat said. He pulled a torch from the pack over his arm, then thrust it to the side, lighting it on Noal's lantern. "It won't work."
The Eelfinn shied away from the new light, snarling softly. "You come looking to bargain, yet you purposely antagonize? We have done nothing to earn this."
Mat pulled the scarf free from his neck. "Nothing?"
The creature made no response, though it did back away, stepping into the darker area between pillars. Its too-angular face was now only barely lit by the yellow lights.
"Why do you wish to speak with us, son of battles," the whisperer said from the shadows, "if you are not willing to bargain?"
"No," Mat said. "No bargaining until we reach the great hall, the Chamber of Bonds." That was the only place where they would be bound to the agreement. Is that not what Birgitte had said? Of course, she had seemed to be relying on stories and hearsay herself.
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