The Gathering Storm - By Robert Jordan & Brandon Sanderson Page 0,262

that means she thinks that she is well protected. We can expect guards.”

Mat pulled out another of Roidelle’s maps, one that better showed the geography around Trustair. The town sat in a small hollow, surrounded by gently rolling hills beside a small lake fed by highland springs. The lake reportedly produced some fine trout, the salting of which was the town’s main trade.

“I want three squads of light cavalry here,” Mat said, pointing at an upper slope. “They’ll be hidden by the trees, but will have full view of the skies. If a red nightflower goes up, they’re to come in directly along the main road here for a rescue. We’ll have a hundred crossbowmen sequestered on either side of the town as a backup to the cavalry. If the nightflower is green instead, the cavalry is to march in and secure the main roads to the town, here, here and here.”

Mat looked up, pointing at Thom. “Thom, you’ll take Harnan, Fergin and Mandevwin as ‘apprentices’ and Noal can be your footman.”

“Footman?” Noal asked. He was a gnarled man, missing teeth, with a hooked beak of a nose. But he was tough as an old, battle-scored sword passed down from father to son. “Why does a gleeman need a footman?”

“All right,” Mat said. “You can be his brother then, who doubles as a manservant. Juilin, you—”

“Wait, Mat,” Mandevwin said, scratching his face near his eye patch. “I’m to be an apprentice gleeman? I’m not certain my voice is suited to fine singing. You’ve heard me, I warrant. And with only one eye, I doubt I’ll fare well at juggling.”

“You’re a new apprentice,” Mat said. “Thom knows you don’t have any talent, but he took pity on you because your great-aunt—with whom you’ve lived since your parents died in a tragic oxen stampede—took sick of the clover pox and went crazy. She started feeding you table scraps and treated you like the family hound, Marks, who’d run away when you were just seven.”

Mandevwin scratched his head. His hair was streaked with gray. “Aren’t I a little old to be an apprentice, though?”

“Nonsense,” Mat said. “You’re young at heart, and since you never married—the only woman you ever loved ran away with the tanner’s son—Thom’s arrival offered you an opportunity to start fresh.”

“But I don’t want to leave my great-aunt,” Mandevwin protested. “She’s cared for me since I was a child! It’s not honest of a man to abandon an elderly woman just because she gets a little confused.”

“There is no great-aunt,” Mat said with exasperation. “This is just a legend, a story to go with your false name.”

“Can’t I have a story that makes me more honorable?” Mandevwin asked.

“Too late,” Mat said, rifling through a stack on his desk, searching out a cluster of five pages covered in scrawled handwriting. “You can’t change now. I spent half the night working on your story. It’s the best out of the lot. Here, memorize this.” He handed it over to Mandevwin, then got out another stack of papers and began looking through them.

“Are you sure we’re not taking this a little too far, lad?” Thom asked.

“I’m not going to be surprised again, Thom,” Mat said. “Burn me, but I’m not going to let it happen. I’m tired of walking into traps unprepared. I plan to take command of my own destiny, stop running from problem to problem. It’s time to be in charge.”

“And you do that with . . .” Julin said.

“Elaborate aliases with backstories,” Mat said, handing Thom and Noal their sheets. “Bloody right I do.”

“What about me?” Talmanes asked. That twinkle to his eyes was back, though he spoke with a completely earnest voice. “Let me guess, Mat. I’m a traveling merchant who once trained with the Aiel and who has come to the village because he’s heard there’s a trout that lives in the lake who insulted his father.”

“Nonsense,” Mat said, handing him his sheets. “You’re a Warder.”

“That’s rather suspicious,” Talmanes noted.

“You’re supposed to be suspicious,” Mat said. “It’s always easier to beat a man in cards when he’s thinking about something else. Well, you’ll be our ‘something else.’ A Warder passing through town on mysterious business won’t be so grand an event that it will draw too much attention, but to those who know what to look for, it will be a good distraction. You can use Fen’s cloak. He said he’d let me borrow it; he still feels guilty for letting those serving women get away.”

“Of course, you