The Dragon Reborn - By Robert Jordan Page 0,102

“Put them up and get back to bed before you fall on your face.”

He hesitated, his back stiffening, but his knees chose that moment to wobble, and the two Aes Sedai were looking at him, dark eyes and blue alike appearing to read his every rebellious thought. He did as he was told, holding the blanket around him with both hands. He lay down straight as a board, not sure what else he could do.

“How are you feeling?” the Amyrlin asked briskly as she put a hand on his head. Goose bumps covered his skin. Had she done something with the One Power, or was it being touched by an Aes Sedai that made him feel a chill?

“I’m fine,” he told her. “Why, I am ready to be on my way. Just let me say goodbye to Egwene and Nynaeve, and I’ll be out of your hair. I mean, I will go . . . uh, Mother.” Moiraine and Verin had not seemed to care much how he talked, but this was the Amyrlin Seat, after all.

“Nonsense,” the Amyrlin said. She pulled the high-backed chair around, closer to the bed, and sat, addressing Leane. “Men always seem to refuse to admit they are sick until they’re sick enough to make twice as much work for women. Then they claim they’re well too soon, with the same result.”

The Keeper glanced at Mat and nodded. “Yes, Mother, yet this one cannot claim he is well when he can barely stand up. At least he has eaten everything on his tray.”

“I’d be surprised if he had left enough crumbs to interest a finch. And still hungry, unless I miss my guess.”

“I could have someone bring him a pie, Mother. Or some cakes.”

“No, I think he has had as much as he can hold for now. If he brings it all back up, it won’t do him any good.”

Mat scowled. It seemed to him that when you got sick, you became invisible to women unless they were actually talking to you. And then they took at least ten years off your age. Nynaeve, his mother, his sisters, the Amyrlin Seat, they all did it.

“I’m not hungry at all,” he announced. “I am fine. If you will let me put my clothes on, I’ll show you how well I am. I will be out of here before you know it.” They were both looking at him, now. He cleared his throat. “Uh . . . Mother.”

The Amyrlin snorted. “You’ve eaten a meal for five, and you will eat three or four like it every day for days yet, or else you will starve to death. You’ve just been Healed from a link to the evil that killed every man, woman, and child in Aridhol, and no less strong for near two thousand years waiting for you to pick it up. It was killing you just as surely as it killed them. That is not like having a fish spine stuck in your thumb, boy. We very nearly killed you ourselves trying to save you.”

“I am not hungry,” he maintained. His stomach growled loudly to give him the lie.

“I read you aright the first time I saw you,” the Amyrlin said. “I knew right then you’d bolt like a startled fisher-bird if you ever thought someone was trying to hold you. As well I took precautions.”

He eyed them warily. “Precautions?” They looked back, all serenity. He felt as if their eyes were pinning him to the bed.

“Your name and description are on their way to the bridge guards,” the Amyrlin said, “and the dockmasters. I’ll not try to hold you inside the Tower, but you will not leave Tar Valon until you are well. Should you try to hide in the city, hunger will drive you back here eventually, or if it doesn’t, we will find you before you starve.”

“Why do you want to keep me here so badly?” he demanded. He heard Selene’s voice. They want to use you. “Why should you care whether I starve or not? I can feed myself.”

The Amyrlin gave a small laugh with little amusement in it. “With two silver marks and a handful of copper, my son? Your dice would need to be very lucky indeed to buy all the food you’ll need in the next few days. We do not Heal people, then let them waste our efforts by dying while they still need care. In addition to which, you may yet need more Healing.”

“More? You said you