A Memory of Light

“Nor I,” Galad said.

“The Amyrlin was certain he’d be with your forces . . .” Bryne said, shaking his head. “He went to fight on the front lines. Perhaps he came in disguise.”

Why would he . . . He was Gawyn. He would want to fight. Yet sneaking to the front lines in disguise didn’t seem like him. He might gather some men loyal to him and lead a few charges. But sneak? Gawyn? It was difficult to imagine.

“I will spread word,” Elayne said as Galad bowed to her, then withdrew on his mission.

“Perhaps one of my commanders has seen him.”

Ah . . . Mat thought, face so close to the maps that it was nearly level with them. Then he waved to the side, having Mika the damane open a gateway. Mat could have Traveled to the top of Dashar Knob to get an overview. However, the last time he had done so, enemy channelers had targeted him, shearing off part of the summit; and, despite being so high, Dashar Knob did not al ow him to see everything happening below the western side of Polov Heights. He scrambled over, hands on the lip of the gateway in the table, inspecting the landscape below.

Elayne’s line at the river was being pushed back. They had run archers to their right flank.

Good. Blood and bloody ashes . . . those Trol ocs had nearly the weight behind them of a cavalry push. He’d need to send word to Elayne to get her cavalry lined up behind the pikes.

Like when I fought Sana Ashraf at the falls of Pena, he thought. Heavy cavalry, horseback archers, heavy cavalry, horseback archers. One after another. Taer’ain dhai hochin dieb sene.

Mat could not remember being this engaged by a battle. The fight against the Shaido had not been nearly so gripping, though Mat had not been leading that battle entirely. The fight against Elbar had not been this satisfying, either. Of course, that had been on a much smaller scale.

Demandred knew how to gamble. Mat could sense it through the movements of troops.

Mat was playing against one of the best who had ever lived, and the stake this time was not wealth. They diced for the lives of men, and the final prize was the world itself. Blood and bloody ashes, but that excited him. He did feel guilty about that, but it was exciting.

“Lan is in position,” Mat said, straightening up and returning to his maps, making some notations. “Tell him to strike.”

The Trol oc army crossing the riverbed by the ruins needed to be crushed. He’d moved the Borderlanders around the Heights to attack their vulnerable rear flanks while Tam and his combined forces continued to pound them from the front. Tam had kil ed large numbers of them before and after the river had stopped. That Trol oc horde was close to being broken, and a coordinated action on two sides could do it.

Tam’s men would be tired. Could they hold long enough for Lan to arrive and hit the Trol ocs from behind? Light, Mat hoped they could. If they didn’t . . .

Someone darkened the doorway of the command position, a tall man with dark, curling hair, wearing the coat of an Asha’man. He had the expression of a man who had just drawn a losing hand. Light. A Trolloc would have found that stare unnerving.

Min, who had been speaking with Tuon, choked off; Logain seemed to have a special glare for her. Mat straightened, dusting off his hands. “I hope you didn’t do anything too nasty to the guards, Logain.”

“The weaves of Air will untie on their own in a minute or two,” the man said, voice harsh. “I didn’t think they were likely to allow me in.”

Mat glanced at Tuon. She had grown stiff as a wel -starched apron. Seanchan did not trust women who could channel, let alone someone like Logain.

“Logain,” Mat said. “I need you to fight alongside the White Tower army. Those Sharans are pounding them.”

Logain had locked eyes with Tuon.

“Logain!” Mat said. “If you haven’t noticed, we’re fighting a bloody war here.”

“It is not my war.”

“This is our war,” Mat snapped. “Every one of us.”

“I stood forth to fight,” Logain said. “And what was my reward? Ask the Red Ajah. They will tel you the reward of a man abused of the Pattern.” He barked a laugh. “The Pattern demanded a Dragon! And so I came! Too soon. Just a little too soon.”

“Listen here,” Mat said, stepping up to Logain. “You’re angry because you didn’t get to be the Dragon?”

“Nothing so petty,” Logain said. “I follow the Lord Dragon. Let him die. I wish no part of that feast. I and mine should be with him, not fighting here. This battle for the little lives of men is nothing compared to the battle happening at Shayol Ghul.”

“And yet, you know we need you here,” Mat said. “You would already be gone, otherwise.”

Logain said nothing.

“Go to Egwene,” Mat said. “Take everyone you have and keep those Sharan channelers busy!'