For once, it would be nice if his luck could see him off somewhere enjoying a pipe and a game of dice, with a pretty serving girl on his knee and no cares beyond his next throw. Instead, he was married to a Seanchan High Blood and was off to beg the Queen of Andor for her help. How did he get into these situations? Sometimes he thought that the Creator must be like Talmanes. Straight of face, but secretly having a grand time laughing at Mat.
His procession passed numerous camps on the open plains around Caemlyn. All mercenaries were required to stay at least a league away, but the forces of the lords could camp closer. That put Mat in a rough place. There was always tension between sell-swords and loyal armsmen, and with the mercenaries so far from Caemlyn, fights were common. The Band was right in the middle of it.
He did some quick figuring based on the trails of campfire smoke he saw twisting into the air. There were at least ten thousand mercenaries in the area. Did Elayne know what a bubbling kettle she was brewing here? Too much heat, and the whole bloody thing would boil over!
Mat’s procession drew attention. He had one of the men flying the banner of the Band of the Red Hand, and his men were developing a reputation. By Mat’s count, they were the largest single group—mercenary or lord’s force—outside Caemlyn’s walls. They were as organized and disciplined as a regular army, and were under the leadership of a personal friend of the Dragon Reborn. His men could not help bragging about that, though Mat would much rather that they had kept quiet.
They passed groups of men waiting by the side of the road, curious to catch a glimpse of “Lord Mat.” He kept his eyes forward. If they had expected some fop in a rich coat, then they would be disappointed! Though perhaps he could have chosen a better coat. This one was stiff, and the collar itched.
Of course, more than a few seemed to think Talmanes was “Lord Mat” from the way they pointed, probably because of how he was dressed. Bloody ashes!
This conversation with Elayne was going to be tough. But Mat had a hidden card, one he hoped would be enough to get her to look past the expense of Aludra’s proposal. Though he was more afraid she would see what he was doing and want to take part in it. And when a woman wanted to be “part” of something, that meant she wanted to be in charge.
They approached the gate in Caemlyn’s white-gray walls, passing the growing outer city. The soldiers waved him on. Mat gave them a tip of the hat, and Thom gave a flourishing wave to the small crowd gathered here. They cheered. Great. Just bloody great.
The march through the New City was uneventful save for more crowds watching. Would someone recognize his face from those drawings? Mat wanted to get off the main thoroughfares, but Caemlyn’s narrow streets were a twisting mess. A force of fifty horsemen was too large to move through those streets.
They eventually passed through the brilliant white walls of the Inner City, where the roads were wider, the Ogier-built buildings less cramped, and the population thinner. Here, they passed more groups of armed men, including Guardsmen in white and red. Mat could make their camp out ahead, covering the gray paving stones of the courtyard with their tents and horselines.
The Caemlyn palace was like another little city within the city inside the city. It had a low fortified wall, and while its peaks and spires rose into the air, it had more of the look of a war bunker than the Sun Palace did. Odd, how he had never noticed that when he was younger. If Caemlyn fell, this palace could hold on its own. They needed more barracks, though, within that wall. This camping out in the courtyard was ridiculous.
Mat took Talmanes, Thom and a force of ten Redarms as an escort. A tall man in a burnished breastplate, three golden knots on the shoulder of his cloak, waited at the palace entrance. He was a young man, but the way he stood—relaxed, yet poised, hand on the pommel of his sword—indicated he was a practiced soldier. Too bad he had such a pretty face. A life in the military would probably end up wrecking that.
The man nodded to Mat, Thom and Talmanes. “Lord Cauthon?” he asked Mat.
“Just Mat.”
The man raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. “My name is Charlz Guybon. I’ll lead you to Her Majesty.”
She had sent Guybon himself to escort Mat. He was high-ranking, second-in-command of the armies. That was unexpected. Was Elayne afraid of him, or was she was honoring him? Maybe Guybon had wanted to see Mat for himself. She would not honor Mat, not after making him wait so long to get an audience! A fine greeting for an old friend. His suspicions were confirmed when Guybon did not lead them to the Grand Hall, but down to a quiet area of the Palace.
“I’ve heard much about you, Master Cauthon,” Guybon said. He seemed like one of those stiff soldiers. Solid, but maybe a little too solid. Like a bow without enough spring to it.
“From who?” Mat asked. “Elayne?”
“Mostly rumors around the city. People like to talk about you.”
They do? Mat thought. “I didn’t do half of what they say,” he grumbled, “and the other half wasn’t my bloody fault.”
Guybon laughed. “What of the story of you hanging from a tree for nine days?”
“Didn’t happen,” Mat said, resisting the urge to tug at the scarf around his neck. Nine days? Where did that come from? He had not even hung for nine bloody minutes! Nine seconds had been too long.
“They also say,” Guybon continued, “that you never lose at dice or at love, and that your spear never misses its target.”
“Wish those second two were true. Burn me, but I wish they were.”
“But you do always win at dice?”
“Near enough,” Mat said, tugging down the brim of his hat. “But don’t spread that one, or I’ll never find a game.”
“They say you slew one of the Forsaken,” Guybon noted.
“Not true,” Mat said. Where had that one come from?
“And the stories of you dueling the King of the Aiel invaders in a battle of honor? Did you really win the Dragon Reborn the loyalty of the Aiel?”
“Bloody ashes,” Mat said. “I killed Couladin, but it didn’t happen in any kind of duel! I ran into him on the battlefield, and one of us had to die. It wasn’t bloody well going to be me.”
“Interesting,” Guybon said. “I thought that one might be true. At least, it’s one of the few that could have happened. Unlike&hellip