Robert Jordan & Brandon Sanderson - [Wheel of Time 13]

by Towers of Midnight (v1. 2) (epub)

  "The Windfinders are beginning to ask after the land you promised them," Dyelin noted. "Already?"

  The older woman nodded. "The request still troubles me. Why do they want a sliver of land like that?"

  "They earned it," Elayne said.

  "Perhaps. Though this does mean that you're the first Queen in five generations to cede a portion of Andor no matter how small to a foreign entity."

  Elayne took a deep breath, and oddly found herself calmer. Blasted mood swings! Hadn't Melfane promised those would grow less pronounced as the pregnancy progressed? Yet at times she still felt her emotions bouncing around like a ball in a children's game.

  Elayne composed herself and sat. "I cannot allow this. The Houses are all looking for opportunities to shoulder their way into power."

  "You would be doing the same in their place, I warrant," Dyelin said.

  "Not if I knew that the Last Battle was approaching," Elayne snapped. "We need to do something to direct the nobles toward more important matters. Something to unify them behind me, or at least convince them that I'm not to be toyed with."

  "And you have a means of achieving this?" Dyelin asked.

  "Yes," Elayne said, glancing eastward. "It's time to seize Cairhien."

  Birgitte choked quietly on her tea. Dyelin merely raised an eyebrow. "A bold move."

  "Bold?" Birgitte asked, wiping her chin. "It's bloody insane. Elayne, you barely have your fingers on Andor."

  "That makes the timing even better," Elayne said. "We have momentum. Besides, if we move for Cairhien now, it will show that I mean to be more than a simpering puff of a queen."

  "I doubt anyone expects that of you," Birgitte said. "If they do, they probably took one too many knocks to the head during the fighting."

  "She's right, however uncouth the presentation," Dyelin agreed. She glanced at Birgitte, and Elayne could feel a stab of dislike through Birgitte's bond. Light! What would it take to make the two of them get along? "Nobody doubts your strength as a queen, Elayne. That won't stop the others from seizing what power they can; they know they're unlikely to be able to get it later."

  "I don't have fifteen years to stabilize my rule, like Mother," Elayne said. "Look, we all know what Rand kept saying about me taking the Sun Throne. A steward rules there now, waiting for me, and after what happened to Colavaere, nobody dares disobey Rand's edicts."

  "By taking that throne," Dyelin said, "you risk looking as if you're letting al'Thor hand it to you."

  "So?" Elayne said. "I had to take Andor on my own, but there is nothing wrong with me accepting his gift of Cairhien. His Aiel were the ones to liberate it. We'd be doing the Cairhienin a favor by preventing a messy Succession. My claim to the throne is strong, at least as strong as anyone else's, and those loyal to Rand will fall behind me."

  "And do you not risk overextending yourself?"

  "Possibly," Elayne said, "but I think it's worth the risk. In one step I could become one of the most powerful monarchs since Artur Hawkwing."

  Further argument was cut off by a polite knock at the door. Elayne glanced at Dyelin, and the woman's thoughtful expression meant she was considering what Elayne had said. Well, Elayne would strike for the Sun Throne, with or without Dyelin's approval. The woman was becoming increasingly useful to Elayne as an advisor Light be praised that Dyelin hadn't wanted the throne herself! but a queen could not let herself fall into the trap of relying on any one person too much.

  Birgitte answered the door, letting in the storklike Master Norry. He was dressed in red and white, his long face characteristically somber. He carried his leather folder under one arm, and Elayne suppressed a groan. "I thought we were finished for the day."

  "I thought so as well, Your Majesty," he said. "But several new matters have arisen. I thought that they might be . . . urn . . . interesting to you."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, Your Majesty," Norry said, "you know that I am not . . . particularly fond of certain types of work. But in light of recent additions to my staff, I have seen reason to expand my attentions."

  "You're taking about Hark, aren't you?" Birgitte said. "How's the worthless piece of grime doing?"

  Norry glanced at her. "He is . . . er . . . grimy, I should say." He looked back at Elayne. "But he is rather adept, once given proper motivation. Please forgive me if I have taken liberties, but after the encounters recently and the guests to your dungeons they provided I thought it wise."

  "What are you talking about, Master Norry?" Elayne asked.

  "Mistress Basaheen, Your Majesty," Norry said. "The first instruction I gave our good Master Hark was to watch the Aes Sedai's place of residence a certain inn known as The Greeting Hall."

  Elayne sat upright, feeling a burst of excitement. Duhara Basaheen had repeatedly attempted to gain audience with Elayne by bullying the various members of the palace staff. They all knew now, however, that she was not to be admitted. Aes Sedai or not, she was a representative of Elaida, and Elayne intended to have nothing to do with her.

  "You had her watched," Elayne said eagerly. "Please tell me you discovered something I can use to banish that insufferable woman."

  "Then I am under no condemnation?" Master Norry asked carefully, still as dry and unexcited as ever. He was yet inexperienced when it came to spying.

  "Light no," Elayne said. "I should have ordered it done myself. You've saved me from that oversight, Master Norry. If what you've discovered is good enough news, I might just be likely to kiss you."

  That prompted a reaction; his eyes widened in horror. It was enough to make Elayne laugh, and Birgitte chuckled as well. Dyelin didn't seem pleased. Well, she could go suck on a goat's foot, for all Elayne cared.

  "Er . . . well," Norry said, "that wouldn't be necessary, Your Majesty. I had thought that, if there were Darkfriends pretending to be Aes Sedai in the city" he, like the others, had learned not to refer to Falion and the others as "Aes Sedai" in Elayne's presence "we might want to keep good watch on any who purported to be from the White Tower."

  Elayne nodded eagerly. My, but Norry could ramble!

  "I'm afraid I must disappoint Your Majesty," Norry said, obviously noting Elayne's excitement, "if you are hoping for proof that this woman is a Darkfriend."

  "Oh."

  "However," Norry said, raising a slender finger. "I have reason to believe that Duhara Sedai may have had a hand in the document you seem to be treating with . . . um . . . unusual reverence." He glanced at the pages Elayne had tossed to the floor. One bore the distinct outline of her shoe.

  "Duhara has been meeting with Ellorien?" Elayne asked.

  "Indeed she has," Master Norry said. "The visits are growing more frequent. They are done with some measure of secrecy as well."

  Elayne glanced at Dyelin. "Why does Duhara want my rivals freed?"

  Dyelin looked troubled. "She couldn't be so foolish as to assume she can raise up a movement against you, particularly using a group of broken, bankrupt lords and ladies."

  "Your Majesty?" Norry asked. "If I may offer a comment . . ."

  "Of course, Master Norry."

  "Perhaps the Aes Sedai is trying to curry favor with the Lady Ellorien. We don't know for certain they conspired on this proposal; it simply seemed likely, judging from the frequency and timing of the Aes Sedai's visits. But she may not have reason to support your enemies so much as she has reason to be in the good graces of some of the city's nobility."

  It was possible. Duhara wasn't likely to return to the White Tower, no matter how often Elayne suggested that she do so. To go back would be to present Elaida with empty hands and a hostile Andor. No Aes Sedai would be so easily dissuaded. However, if she could return with the loyalty of some of the Andoran nobility, it would be something.

  "When Duhara left her inn to visit Ellorien's home," Elayne said, "how did she dress?" Though Ellorien had briefly spoken of returning to her estates, she hadn't left, perhaps realizing that it wasn't politically useful as of yet. She reside
d in her mansion in Caemlyn at the moment.

  "In a cloak, Your Majesty," Norry said. "With the hood drawn."

  "Rich or poor?"

  "I ... I don't know," Norry replied, sounding embarrassed. "I could fetch Master Hark. . . ."

  "That wonr be needed," Elayne said. "But tell me. Did she go alone?"

  "No. I believe she always had a rather large contingent of attendants with her."

  Elayne nodded. She was willing to bet that while Duhara wore a cloak and drawn hood, she left her Grear Serpent ring on and chose a distinctively rich cloak for the subterfuge, along with taking attendants.

  "Master Norry," Elayne said, "I fear that you've been played."

  "Your Majesty?"

  Dyelin was nodding. "She wanted to be seen visiting Ellorien. She didn't want the visits to be official that would put her too formally against your throne. But she wanted you to know what she was doing."

  "She's blatantly mingling with my enemies," Elayne said. "It's a warning. She threatened me earlier, saying that I would not appreciate being in opposition to her and Elaida."

  "Ah," Norry said, deflated. "So my initiative wasn't so keen after all."

  "Oh, it was still valuable," Elayne said. "If you hadn't had her watched, we'd have missed this which would have been embarrassing. If someone is going to go out of her way to insult me, then I at least want to be aware of it. If only so that I know whom to behead later on."

  Norry paled.

  "Figuratively, Master Norry," she said. As much as she'd like to do it. And Elaida too! She dared send a watchdog to "counsel" Elayne? Elayne shook her head. Hurry up, Egwene. We need you in the Tower. The world needs you there.

  She sighed, turning back to Norry. "You said there were 'several new matters' that needed my attention?"

  "Indeed, Your Majesty," he said, getting out his horrible leather folder. He removed a page from it one he did not regard with nearly as much reverence as most he collected. Indeed, he pinched this one between two fingers and held it aloft, like a man picking up a dead animal found in the gutter. "You will recall your orders regarding mercenary bands?"

  "Yes," she said, grimacing. She was getting thirsty. Gloomily, she eyed the cup of warm goat's milk on the table next to her chair. News of battle brought bands of sell-swords eager to offer their services.

  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 even-

  tually 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 hailed 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 Thorn 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 Thorn 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 Thorn 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 Borderland-ers? 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 fot 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."