night, Mallia had given up trying to show his friendliness by gambling, but his money chest was already lighter by then. It would be lighter still after Aringill. Mallia had need to restock his food — Mat glanced at the people milling on the docks — if he could, here, at any price.
The grin faded as his thoughts went back to the letter. A little work with a hot knife blade, and the golden lily seal had been lifted. He had found nothing: Elayne was studying hard and making progress and eager to learn. She was a dutiful daughter, and the Amyrlin Seat had punished her for running away and told her never to speak of it again, so her mother would understand why she could not say more. She said she had been raised to the Accepted, and was that not wonderful, so soon, and she was being trusted with greater duties now, and would have to leave Tar Valon for just a short time on the service of the Amyrlin herself. Her mother was not to worry.
It was all very well for her to tell Morgase not to worry. It was him she had landed in the soup kettle. This silly letter had to be the reason those men had come after him, but even Thom had been able to make nothing of it, though he muttered about “ciphers” and “codes” and “the Game of Houses.”
Mat had the letter safe in the lining of his coat, now, its seal replaced, and he was willing to bet no one would ever know. If someone wanted it badly enough to kill him for it, they might try again. I told you I'd deliver it, Nynaeve, and I bloody will, no matter who tries to stop me. Even so, he would have words to say the next time he saw those three irritating women — If I ever do. Light, I never thought of that — words he did not think they would enjoy hearing.
As the crewmen hurled their lines onto the dock, Thom came on deck, his instrument cases on his back and his bundle in one hand. Even with a limp he strutted to the rail, giving the tail of his cloak little flourishes to make the colored patches flutter, and blowing out his long, white mustaches importantly.
“Nobody is watching, Thom,” Mat said. “I don't think they would even see a gleeman unless he had food in his hands.”
Thom stared at the docks. “Light! I had heard it was bad, but I did not expect this! Poor fools. Half of them look as if they are starving. It may cost us one of your purses for a room tonight. And the other for a meal, if you intend to keep on the way you've been going. Nearly made me ill to watch you. You try eating that way where those people down there can see you, and you may have your brains battered out.”
Mat only smiled at him.
Mallia came stumping down the deck, tugging the point of his beard, as the Gray Gull was warped into her berth. Crewmen ran to set a gangplank, and Sanor stood guard on it, heavy arms folded across his chest, in case the throng on the docks tried to board. None of them did.
“So you will be leaving me here,” Mallia told Mat. The captain's smile was not as ready as it might have been. “Are you certain there is nothing I can do to help further? Burn my soul, I never saw such a rabble! Those soldiers ought to clear the docks — with the sword, if need be! — so decent traders can do business. Perhaps Sanor can make a path through this scum to your inn for you.”
So you'll know where we are staying? Not bloody likely. “I had thought of eating before I went ashore, and maybe a game of dice to pass the time.” Mallia's face went white. “But I think I would like a steady floor under me for my next meal. So we will leave you now, Captain. It has been an enjoyable voyage.”
While relief still battled consternation on the captain's face, Mat picked up his things from the deck and, using the quarterstaff as a walking stick, made his way to the gangplank with Thom. Mallia followed as far as the head of the plank, murmuring regrets at their departure that jumped from real to insincere and back again. Mat was certain the man hated