The Dragon Reborn - By Robert Jordan Page 0,255

much to tell. He came out of the west during the winter. Somewhere out your way, I think. Maybe it was the Two Rivers. I’ve heard the mountains mentioned.”

“We have no lords in the Two Rivers,” Mat said. “Maybe there are some up around Baerlon. I do not know.”

“That could be it, lad. I had never even heard of him before, but I do not keep up with the country lords. Came while Morgase was still in Tar Valon, he did, and half the city was afraid the Tower was going to make her disappear, too. The other half did not want her back. The riots started up again, the way they did last year at the tail of winter.”

Mat shook his head. “I do not care about politics, Master Gill. It’s Gaebril I want to know about.” Thom frowned at him, and began cleaning the dottle from his long-stemmed pipe with a straw.

“It is Gaebril I am telling you about, lad,” Gill said. “During the riots, he made himself leader of the faction supporting Morgase—got himself wounded in the fighting, I hear—and by the time she returned, he had it all suppressed. Gareth Bryne didn’t like Gaebril’s methods—he can be a very hard man—but Morgase was so pleased to find order restored that she named him to the post Elaida used to hold.”

The innkeeper stopped. Mat waited for him to go on, but he did not. Thom thumbed his pipe full of tabac and walked over to light a spill at a small lamp kept for the purpose on the mantel above the fireplace.

“What else?” Mat asked. “The man has to have a reason for what he does. If he marries Morgase, would he be king when she dies? If Elayne were dead, too, I mean?”

Thom choked lighting his pipe, and Gill laughed. “Andor has a queen, lad. Always a queen. If Morgase and Elayne both died—the Light send it not so!—then Morgase’s nearest female relative would take the throne. At least there’s no question of who that is this time—a cousin, the Lady Dyelin—not like the Succession, after Tigraine vanished. It took two years before Morgase sat on the Lion Throne, then. Dyelin could keep Gaebril as her advisor, or marry him to cement the line—though she would not likely do that unless Morgase had had a child by him—but he would be the Prince Consort even then. No more than that. Thank the Light, Morgase is a young woman, yet. And Elayne is healthy. Light! The letter did not say she is ill, did it?”

“She is well.” For now, at least. “Isn’t there anything else you can tell me about him? You do not seem to like him. Why?”

The innkeeper frowned in thought, and scratched his chin, and shook his head. “I suppose I would not like him marrying Morgase, but I do not truly know why. He’s said to be a fine man; the nobles all look to him. I do not like most of the men he’s brought into the Guards. Too much has changed since he came, but I cannot lay it all at his door. There just seem to be too many people muttering in corners since he came. You would think we were all Cairhienin, the way they were before this civil war, all plotting and trying to find advantage. I keep having bad dreams since Gaebril came, and I am not the only one. Fool thing to worry about, dreams. It is probably only worry about Elayne, and what Morgase means to do concerning the White Tower, and people acting like Cairhienin. I just do not know. Why are you asking all these questions about Lord Gaebril?”

“Because he wants to kill Elayne,” Mat said, “and Egwene and Nynaeve with her.” There was nothing useful in what Gill had told him that he could see. Burn me, I don’t have to know why he wants them dead. I just have to stop it. Both men were staring at him again. As if he were mad. Again.

“Are you coming down sick again?” Gill said suspiciously. “I remember you staring crossways at everyone the last time. It’s either that, or else you think this is some sort of prank. You have the look of a prankster to me. If that is it, it’s a nasty one!”

Mat grimaced. “It is no bloody prank. I overheard him telling some man called Comar to cut Elayne’s head off. And Egwene’s and Nynaeve’s while he was about it.