A Memory of Light

Talmanes had figured him out and insisted he really drink. I still owe him a few marks for that, don’t I? Mat thought absently.

He pointed the looking glass to the northern part of the Heights. A group of Sharan heavy cavalry had gathered to move down the slope; he could make out their long, steel-tipped lances.

They were preparing to charge down the slope to intercept Lan’s men as they swung around the northern side of the Heights. But the order hadn’t even reached Lan yet.

It confirmed Mat’s suspicions: Demandred not only had spies in the camp, he had one in or near the command tent. Someone who could send messages as soon as Mat gave orders.

That probably meant a channeler, here, inside the tent and masking their ability.

Bloody ashes, Mat thought. As if this weren’t tough enough.

The messenger returned from Talmanes. “Great One,” he said, prostrating himself nose to the floor, “your man says that his forces are completely ruined. He wishes to fol ow your order, but says that the dragons will not be available for the rest of this day. It will take weeks to repair them. They are . . . I’m sorry, Great One, but these were his exact words.

They are worse off than a barmaid in Sabinel. I do not know what it means.”

“Barmaids there work for tips,” Mat said with a grunt, “but people in Sabinel don’t tip.”

That was, of course, a lie. Sabinel was a town where Mat had tried to make Talmanes help him win over a pair of barmaids. Talmanes had suggested that Mat feign a war wound to get sympathy.

Good man. The dragons could stil fight, but they probably looked busted up something good. They had an advantage there; nobody knew how they worked except Mat and Aludra.

Bloody ashes, and even he worried that each time one went off it would somehow blow up the wrong way.

Five or six dragons were completely functional; Mat had pulled them through a gateway to safety. Aludra had those set up south of the ford, aimed toward the Heights. Mat would use them, but leave the spy with the impression that the bulk of them had been destroyed.

Talmanes could instead patch them up; then Mat could use them again.

But the moment I do, he thought, Demandred wil bring everything he has down on them. It had to be just the right moment. Bloody ashes, lately his life had been completely about trying to find the right moments. He was running out of those kinds of moments. For now, he ordered Aludra to use the half-dozen functional dragons to pound Trol ocs across the river who were coming down the southwestern slope of the Heights.

She was far enough away from the Heights, and she would keep moving, so Demandred would have a difficult time pinpointing her and bringing the dragons down. The smoke they made would obscure her position quickly.

“Mat,” Elayne said from her throne on the side of the room. He noticed, with amusement, that in shifting it about for “comfort” she had somehow gotten Birgitte to wedge it up a few inches, so she now sat exactly level with Tuon. Maybe an inch higher. “Please. Can you at least explain some of what you’re doing?”

Not without letting that spy hear, too, he thought, glancing about the room. Who was it?

One of the three pairs of damane and j 'uVdarri Could a damane be a Darkfriend without her suldam knowing? What about the opposite? That noblewoman with the white streak in her hair looked suspicious.

Or was it one of the many generals? Galgan? Tylee? Banner-General Gerisch? She stood at the side of the room, glaring at him. Honestly. Women. She did have a nice backside, but Mat had only mentioned it to be friendly. He was a married man.

The fact was, there were so many people moving about, Mat figured he could have spread mil et on the floor and had flour by the end of the day. Supposedly, they were al absolutely trustworthy and incapable of betraying the Empress, might she live forever. Which she would not, if spies kept slipping in.

“Mat?” Elayne said. “Someone else needs to know what you are planning. If you fal , we have to continue your plan.”

Wel , that was a good enough argument. He’d considered it himself. Assured that his current orders were being followed, he stepped over to Elayne. He glanced about the room, then smiled to the others innocently. They need not know he was suspicious of them.

“Why are you leering at everyone?” Elayne asked softly.

Im not bloody leering,” Mat said. “Outside. I want to walk and take in some fresh air.”

“Knotai?” Tuon asked, standing.

He did not look toward her—those eyes could drill through solid steel. Instead, he casually made his way out of the command building. Elayne and Birgitte followed a few moments later.

“What is this?” Elayne asked softly.

“There are many ears in there,” Mat said.

“You suspect a spy inside of the command—”

Wait,” Mat said, taking her arm, pulling her away. He nodded agreeably to some Deathwatch Guards. They grunted in reply. For Deathwatch Guards, that was downright talkative.