He grinned at her insolently, and the way he eyed her up and down, he was lucky Elayne did not slap him hard enough to loosen all his teeth. “You, my fine Lady, I am taking back to Caemlyn if I have to tie you up in a package to hand to Rand, burn me if I don’t. And I will bloody well leave when I choose.” His bow was mocking, to Elayne and to Egwene. Nynaeve got only a glower and another shake of his finger.
“How can Rand have such a low, insufferable lout for a friend?” Elayne asked no one in particular before the door was well closed behind him.
“His language has certainly slipped downhill,” Nynaeve grumbled darkly, tossing her head so her braid swung over her shoulder. Egwene thought she might be afraid she would pull it out by the roots if she did not put it out of reach.
“I should have let him do as he wanted, Nynaeve. You have to remember you’re Aes Sedai now. You can’t go around kicking people, or boxing their ears, or thumping them with sticks.” Nynaeve stared at her, mouth working, face growing redder and redder. Elayne began assiduously studying the carpet.
With a sigh, Egwene folded the striped stole and laid it on the table to one side. That was her way of making sure Elayne and Nynaeve remembered they were alone; sometimes the stole made them start talking to the Amyrlin Seat instead of Egwene al’Vere. As usual, it worked. Nynaeve took a very deep breath.
Before she could speak, though, Elayne said, “Do you mean to join him and this Band of the Red Hand to Gareth Bryne?”
Egwene shook her head. The Warders said there were six or seven thousand in Mat’s Band now, more than she remembered from Cairhien, and a considerable number, if not nearly so many as those two captured men claimed, but Bryne’s soldiers truly would not take kindly to Dragonsworn. Besides, she had her own scheme, which she explained while they drew the other chairs to the table. It was very like sitting in a kitchen talking. She moved the stole farther over.
“That is brilliant.” Elayne’s grin said she meant it. But then, Elayne always said what she meant. “I didn’t think the other would work either, but this really is brilliant.”
Nynaeve sniffed irritably. “What makes you think Mat will go along? He’ll stick a pole through the spokes just for the fun of it.”
“I think he made a promise,” Egwene said simply, and Nynaeve nodded. Slowly, reluctantly, but she nodded. Elayne looked lost, of course; she did not know him. “Elayne, Mat does exactly as he pleases; he always has.”
“No matter how many turnips he had to peel for it,” Nynaeve muttered, “or how often he was switched.”
“Yes, that is Mat,” Egwene sighed. He had been the most irresponsible boy in Emond’s Field, maybe in the Two Rivers. “But if he gives his word, he keeps it. And I think he promised Rand to see you back in Caemlyn, Elayne. You notice he retreated to asking me”—in a way he had—“but you he never changed a hair on. I think he’ll try to stay as close to you as your belt pouch. But we won’t let him even see you unless he does as we want.” She paused. “Elayne, if you want to go with him, you can. To Rand, I mean. As soon as we squeeze all of the good out of Mat and his Band.”
Elayne hardly hesitated before shaking her head, and she shook it firmly. “No, Ebou Dar is too important.” That had been one victory, surprisingly won with a mere suggestion. Elayne and Nynaeve were to join Merilille at Tylin’s court. “At least if he stays close, I’ll have a few days to try for a look at the ter’angreal he is carrying. It has to be that, Egwene. Nothing else could explain it.”
Egwene could only agree. She had simply meant to wrap him up in Air where he stood, just a gentle reminder of who he was trying to manhandle, but the flows touched him, and melted. That was the only way to explain it. They ceased to exist where they touched him. She still felt the shock of that moment, remembering, and she realized she was not the only one suddenly adjusting skirts that needed no adjusting.
“We could have some Warders turn out his pockets.” Nynaeve sounded more than satisfied with the image. “We’ll see how Master Mat Cauthon likes that.”
“If we take things away from him,” Egwene said patiently, “don’t you think he might balk when we start telling him what to do?” Mat had never taken orders very well, and his usual response to Aes Sedai and the One Power was to take the first chance to slip away. Maybe his promise to Rand would stop that—there had to be one; nothing else explained his behavior—but she was not going to risk it. Nynaeve nodded, rather grudgingly.
“Maybe. . . .” Tapping her fingers on the table, Elayne stared at nothing thoughtfully for a moment. “Maybe we could take him to Ebou Dar. That way, I might have a better chance at the ter’angreal. Though if it stops saidar, I can’t see how I’ll ever manage to study it.”
“Take that young ruffian along!” Nynaeve sat up straight. “You can’t mean it, Elayne. He would make every day a misery; he’s very good at that. He’ll never do what he’s told. Besides, he will never stand still for it. He’s so wrapped up in taking you to Caemlyn, you could not budge him from it with a prybar and a team of horses.”
“But if he means to keep an eye on me until I reach Caemlyn,” Elayne told her, “he’ll have no choice but to go. It is perfect.”
“It might not be a bad idea,” Egwene put in while Nynaeve was searching for another argument. Sending them after the bowl still seemed right, but the more she thought of where they would have to search, the more she worried. “A few soldiers might be a very good idea, unless you’ve picked out Warders without letting me know. Thom and Juilin are all very well, and Birgitte, but it is a rough place you’re going.”
“A few soldiers might be well enough,” Elayne said, coloring slightly. “So long as they know to follow orders.”
Nynaeve did not quite glance at Elayne, but there was a distinct pause before she shook her head irascibly. “We’re hardly going to be fighting duels, Egwene, however touchy these Ebou Dari are. Thom and Juilin will do quite well enough. Myself, I think all these stories we’ve been hearing are just meant to make us decide to give it over.” Everybody had heard tales of Ebou Dar since word had spread that they were going; Chesa had heard several, each more pitiful and horrific than the last, strangers killed for a wrong glance before they could blink, women widowed and children orphaned over a word, women fighting in the streets with knives. “No, if we could survive Tanchico with just Thom and Juilin, and Liandrin and some of her Black sisters around in the bargain, we will do very well in Ebou Dar without Mat Cauthon or any soldiers either. Mat commanding soldiers! He never even remembered to milk his father’s cows unless he was put on the stool and