A Memory of Light

Mat’s forces continued to hold back the Shadow at the eastern border of Kandor, but he was not pleased with the current situation. The nature of Bryne’s trap had been subtle, as hard to see as a yellow flower-spider crouching on a petal. That’s how Mat had known. It had taken true military genius to put the army into such a bad situation without it looking like the army was in a bad situation. That sort of thing didn’t happen by accident.

Mat had lost more men than he wanted to count. His people were pressed up against the river, and Demandred—despite continuing to rave about the Dragon Reborn—was continual y testing Mat’s defenses, trying to find a weak spot, sending out a heavy cavalry raid against one side, then an attack from Sharan archers and a Trolloc charge on the other.

Consequently, Mat had to keep a close eye on Demandred’s movements to be able to counter them in time.

Night was coming soon. Would the Shadow pull back? The Trol ocs could fight into the darkness, but those Sharans probably couldn’t. Mat gave another sequence of orders, and messengers gal oped through gateways to deliver them. It seemed like only moments passed before his troops below responded. “So fast . .

Mat said.

“This will change the world,” General Galgan said. “Messengers can respond instantly; commanders can watch their battles and plan in the moment.”

Mat grunted in agreement, “f 11 bet it stil takes al bloody evening to get dinner from the mess tent, though.”

Galgan actually smiled. It was like seeing a boulder crack in half.

“Tell me, General,” Tuon said. “What is your assessment of our consorts abilities?”

“I don’t know where you found this one, Greatest One, but he is a diamond of great worth. I have watched him these last hours as he rescued the forces of the White Tower. For all of his . . . unconventional style, I have rarely seen a battle commander as gifted as he.”

Tuon did not smile, but he could see from her eyes that she was pleased. They were nice eyes. And, actually, with Galgan not acting so gruff, perhaps this wouldn’t be such a bad place to be after all.

“Thanks,” Mat said under his breath to Galgan as they both leaned over to study the field below.

“I consider myself a man of truth, my Prince,” Galgan said, rubbing his chin with a cal used finger. “You will serve the Crystal Throne well. It would be a shame to see you assassinated too early. I will make certain that the first I send after you are newly trained, so that you may stop them with ease.”

Mat felt his mouth drop open. The man said it with perfect frankness, almost affection. As if he were planning to do Mat a favor by trying to kill him!

“The Trol ocs here,” he pointed at a group of them far below, “wil pull back soon.”

“I concur,” Galgan said.

Mat rubbed his chin. “We’l have to see what Demandred does with them. I’m concerned that the Sharans may try to slip some of their marattidamane into our camp during the night. They show a remarkable dedication to their cause. Or a bloody foolish disregard for self-preservation.”

Aes Sedai and suldayn weren’t particularly timid, but they were generally cautious. The Sharan channelers were anything but, particularly the men.

“Get me some damane to create lights for the river,” Mat said. “And put the camp on lockdown, with a ring of damane spaced through camp to watch for channeling. Nobody channels, not even to light a bloody candle.”

“The . . . Aes Sedai . . . may not like this,” General Galgan said. He too hesitated upon using the words Aes Sedai. They had started using the term instead of marattidamane by Mat’s order, one that he’d expected Tuon to rescind. She had not.

Figuring that woman out was going to be a real pleasure if they both survived this bloody mess.

Tylee entered the room. Tall and with a scarred face, the dark-skinned woman walked with the confidence of a long-time soldier. She prostrated herself before Tuon, her clothing bloodied and her armor dented. Her legion had taken a beating today, and she probably felt like a rug did after a good-wife had been at it.

“Fm worried about our position here.” Mat turned back and squatted down, looking through the hole. As he’d predicted, the Trol ocs had begun to fal back.

“In what way?” General Galgan asked.

“We’ve run our channelers to the bone,” Mat said. “And were backed up against the river, a difficult position to defend long-term, especial y against such a huge army. If they channel some gateways and move part of the Sharan army to this side of the river in the night, they could crush us.” “I see what you mean,” Galgan said, shaking his head. “Given their strength, they wil continue to wear us down, until we are so weak, they can throw a noose around us and tighten it.”

Mat looked directly at Galgan. “I think it’s time we abandon this position.”

“I agree, that seems to be our only reasonable course of action,” General Galgan said, nodding. “Why not choose a battlefield more to our advantage? Wil your friends from the White Tower agree to a retreat?”

“Let’s see,” Mat said, straightening all the way up. “Someone send for Egwene and the Sitters.”