The Dragon Reborn - By Robert Jordan Page 0,256

A big man, with a white stripe in his beard.”

“That does sound like Lord Comar,” Gill said slowly. “He was a fine soldier, but it is said he left the Guard over some matter of weighted dice. Not that anyone says it to his face; Comar was one of the best blades in the Guards. You really mean it, don’t you?”

“I think he does, Basel,” Thom said. “I very much think he does.”

“The Light shine on us! What did Morgase say? You did tell her, didn’t you? The Light burn you, you did tell her!”

“Of course, I did,” Mat said bitterly. “With Gaebril standing right there, and her gazing at him like a lovesick lapdog! I said, ‘I may be a simple village man who just climbed over your wall half an hour past, but I already happen to know your trusted advisor there, the one you seem to be in love with, intends to murder your daughter.’ Light, man, she’d have cut my head off!”

“She might have at that.” Thom stared into the elaborate carvings on the bowl of his pipe and tugged one mustache. “Her temper was ever as sudden as lightning, and twice as dangerous.”

“You know it better than most, Thom,” Gill said absently. Staring at nothing, he scrubbed both hands through his graying hair. “There has to be something I can do. I haven’t held a sword since the Aiel War, but. . . . Well, that would do no good. Get myself killed and do nothing by it. But I must do something!”

“Rumor.” Thom rubbed the side of his nose; he seemed to be studying the stones board and talking to himself. “No one can keep rumors from reaching Morgase’s ears, and if she hears it strongly enough, she will start to wonder. Rumor is the voice of the people, and the voice of the people often speaks truth. Morgase knows that. There is not a man alive I would back against her in the Game. Love or no love, once Morgase starts examining Gaebril closely, he’ll not be able to hide as much as his childhood scars from her. And if she learns he means harm to Elayne”—he placed a stone on the board; it seemed an odd placement at first glance, but Mat saw that in three more moves, a third of Gill’s stones would be trapped—“Lord Gaebril will have a most elaborate funeral.”

“You and your Game of Houses,” Gill muttered. “Still, it might work.” A sudden smile appeared on his face. “I even know who to tell to start it. All I need do is mention to Gilda that I dreamed it, and in three days she’ll have told serving girls in half the New City that it is a fact. She is the greatest gossip the Creator ever made.”

“Just be certain it cannot be traced back to you, Basel.”

“No fear of that, Thom. Why a week ago, a man told me one of my own bad dreams as a thing he’d heard from somebody who’d had it from someone else. Gilda must have eavesdropped on me telling it to Coline, but when I asked, he gave me a string of names that led all the way to the other side of Caemlyn and vanished. Why, I actually went over there and found the last man, just out of curiosity to see how many mouths had passed it, and he claimed it was his very own dream. No fear, Thom.”

Mat did not really care what they did with their rumors—no rumors would help Egwene or the others—but one thing puzzled him. “Thom, you seem to be taking this all very calmly. I thought Morgase was the great love of your life.”

The gleeman stared into the bowl of his pipe again. “Mat, a very wise woman once told me that time would heal my wounds, that time smoothed everything over. I didn’t believe her. Only she was right.”

“You mean you do not love Morgase anymore.”

“Boy, it has been fifteen years since I left Caemlyn a half step ahead of the headsman’s axe, with the ink of Morgase’s signature still wet on the warrant. Sitting here listening to Basel natter on”—Gill protested, and Thom raised his voice—“natter on, I say, about Morgase and Gaebril, and how they might marry, I realized the passion faded a long time gone. Oh, I suppose I am still fond of her, perhaps I even love her a little, but it is not a grand passion anymore.”

“And here I