The Dragon Reborn - By Robert Jordan Page 0,253

me, but not for this. Not a boy who only brought a letter whose contents he does not know.”

“As my Queen commands, so shall it be,” the dark man said. The tone was respectful, but he touched her cheek in a way that made color come to her face and her lips part as if she expected a kiss.

Morgase drew an unsteady breath. “Tell me, Thom Grinwell, did my daughter look well when you saw her?”

“Yes, my Queen. She smiled, and laughed, and showed a saucy tongue—I mean. . . .”

Morgase laughed softly at the look on his face. “Do not be afraid, young man. Elayne does have a saucy tongue, far too often for her own good. I am happy she is well.” Those blue eyes studied him deeply. “A young man who has left his small village often finds it difficult to return to it. I think you will travel far before you see Comfrey again. Perhaps you will even return to Tar Valon. If you do, and if you see my daughter, tell her that what is said in anger is often repented. I will not remove her from the White Tower before time. Tell her that I often think of my own time there, and miss the quiet talks with Sheriam in her study. Tell her that I said that, Thom Grinwell.”

Mat shrugged uncomfortably. “Yes, my Queen. But . . . uh . . . I do not mean to go to Tar Valon again. Once in any man’s life is enough. My da needs me to help work the farm. My sisters will be stuck with the milking, with me gone.”

Gaebril laughed, a deep rumble of amusement. “Are you anxious then to milk cows, boy? Perhaps you should see something of the world before it changes. Here!” He produced a purse and tossed it; Mat felt coins through the wash-leather when he caught it. “If Elayne can give you a gold mark for carrying her letter, I will give you ten for bringing it safely. See the world before you go back to your cows.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Mat lifted the purse and managed a weak grin. “Thank you, my Lord.”

But the dark man had already waved him away and turned to Morgase with his fists on his hips. “I think the time has come, Morgase, to lance that festering sore on the border of Andor. By your marriage to Taringail Damodred, you have a claim to the Sun Throne. The Queen’s Guards can make that claim as strong as any. Perhaps I can even aid them, in some small way. Hear me.”

Tallanvor touched Mat on the arm, and they backed away, bowing. Mat did not think anyone noticed. Gaebril was still speaking, and every lord and lady seemed to hang on his words. Morgase was frowning as she listened, yet she nodded as much as any other.

CHAPTER

47

To Race the Shadow

From the small courtyard with its pool of fish, Tallanvor led Mat swiftly to the great court at the front of the Palace, behind the tall, gilded gates gleaming in the sun. It would be midday, soon. Mat felt an urge to be gone, a need to hurry. It was hard keeping his pace to the young officer’s. Someone might wonder, if he started running, and maybe—just maybe—things had really been the way they seemed back there. Maybe Gaebril really did not suspect that he knew. Maybe. He remembered those nearly black eyes, seizing and holding like a pair of pitchfork tines through his head. Light, maybe. He forced himself to walk as if he had all the time in the world—Just a haybrain country lout staring at the rugs and the gold. Just a mudfoot who’d never think anyone might put a knife in his back—until Tallanvor let him through a sallyport in one of the gates, and followed him out.

The fat officer with the rat’s eyes was still there with the Guards, and when he saw Mat his face went red again. Before he could open his mouth, though, Tallanvor spoke. “He has delivered a letter to the Queen from the Daughter-Heir. Be glad, Elber, that neither Morgase nor Gaebril knows you tried to keep it from them. Lord Gaebril was most interested in the Lady Elayne’s missive.”

Elber’s face went from red to as white as his collar. He glared once at Mat, and scuttled back along the line of guardsmen, his beady eyes peering through the bars of their face-guards as if to