The Gathering Storm - Robert Jordan

"Which you'll feed how?" Mat asked. "If you're riding that hard, you won't have time to graze your horses. There's barely anything for them to eat these days anyway." That had proven a big problem; the spring grass wasn't coming in. The meadows they passed were brown with fallen leaves, the dead winter weeds pressed flat by snow, barely a new shoot of grass or weed. Horses could feed on the dead leaves and winter grass, of course, but wild deer and other animals had been active, eating down whatever they could find.

If the land didn't decide to start blooming soon . . . well, they were in for a difficult summer. But that was another problem entirely.

"We will need you to give us feed, of course," Joline said. "And some coin for inns. . . ."

"And who is going to take care of all those horses? You going to brush them down each night, check their hooves, see that their feed is properly measured?"

"I suppose we should take a handful of your soldiers with us," Joline said, sounding dissatisfied. "A necessary inconvenience."

"The only thing that is necessary," Mat said flatly. "Is for my men to stay where they're wanted, not where they're an inconvenience. No, they stay—and you'll have no coin from me. If you want to go, you can take one horse each and a single packhorse to carry your things. I'll give you some feed for the poor beasts, and giving you that much is generous."

"But with only one horse each, we'll barely be faster than the army!" Joline said.

"Imagine that," Mat said. He turned away from her. "Vanin, go and tell Mandevwin to pass the word. We'll be camping soon. I know it's barely afternoon, but I want the Band far enough from that village not to be threatening, but close enough that a few of us can go down to feel things out."

"All right," Vanin said, with none of the respect he'd shown the bloody Aes Sedai. He turned his horse and began to ride down the line.

"And Vanin," Mat called. "Make sure Mandevwin is aware that when I say 'a few of us' will go down, I mean a very small group, led by myself and Talmanes. I won't have that village invaded by seven thousand soldiers looking for fun! I'll buy a cart in the town and what ale I can find, then send it back for the men. There is to be strict order in camp, with no one accidentally wandering down to visit, now. Understand?"

Vanin nodded, looking grim. It was never fun to be the one who had to inform the men that they weren't going to be getting leave. Mat turned back to the Aes Sedai. "Well?" he asked. "You taking my kind offer or not?"

Joline just sniffed, then trotted her horse back down the ranks, obviously turning down the chance to go alone. Pity, that. It would have made him smile each step of the way to think of it. Though, it probably would have taken Joline all of three days to find some sap in a village somewhere to give her his horses so that her crew could ride faster.

Edesina rode away, and Teslyn trailed after, regarding Mat with a curious expression. She still looked disappointed in him too. He glanced away, then felt annoyed at himself. What did be care what she thought?

Talmanes was looking at him. "That was odd of you, Mat," the man said.

"What?" Mat said. "The restriction on the men? They're a good lot, the Band, but I've never known a group of soldiers who weren't likely to get themselves in a little trouble now and then, particularly where there's ale to be found."

"I wasn't talking about the men, Mat," Talmanes said, bending to tap out his pipe against his stirrup, dottle falling to flutter back onto the stony roadway beside his horse. "I'm talking about how you treated the Aes Sedai. Light, Mat, we could have been rid of them! I'd count twenty horses and some coin a bargain to be free of two Aes Sedai."

"I won't be shoved around," Mat said stubbornly, waving for the Band to begin its march again. "Not even to get rid of Joline. If she wants something from me, let her ask with a grain of politeness, rather than trying to bully me into giving her whatever she wants. I'm no lap dog." Burn it, he wasn't! And he wasn't husbandly either, whatever that meant.

"You really do miss her," Talmanes said, sounding a little surprised as their horses fell into pace beside one another.

"What are you blathering about now?"

"Mat, you are not always the most refined of men, I'll admit. Sometimes your humor is indeed a bit ripe and your tone on the brusque side. But you are rarely downright rude, nor intentionally insulting. You really are on edge, aren't you?"

Mat said nothing, just pulled the brim of his hat down again.

"I'm sure that she will be fine, Mat," Talmanes said, tone gentler. "She is royalty. They know how to take care of themselves. And she's got those soldiers watching after her. Not to mention Ogier. Ogier warriors! Who would think of such a thing? She'll be all right."

"We're done with this conversation," Mat said, shifting his spear to hold it upright, curved blade toward the unseen sun above, butt in the lancer's strap at the side of his saddle.

"I just—"

"Over," Mat said. "You don't have any more of that tabac, do you?"

Talmanes sighed. "It was the last pinch. Good tabac—Two Rivers grown. The only pouch of it I've seen in some time. It was a gift from King Roedran, along with the pipe."

"He must have valued you."

"It was good, honest work," Talmanes said. "And terribly boring. Not like riding with you, Mat. It's good to have you back, crust and all. But your talk of feed with the Aes Sedai does have me worried."

Mat nodded. "How are we on rations?"

"Low," Talmanes said.

"We'll buy what we can at the village," Mat said. "We've got coin coming out our ears, after what Roedran gave you."

A small village wasn't likely to have enough to supply the whole army. But, according to the maps, they'd soon be entering more populated lands. You'd pass a village or two every day in those areas, traveling with a quick force like the Band. To stay afloat, you scavenged and bought whatever little bit you could at each village you passed. A wagonload here, a cartful there, a bucket or two of apples from a passing farmstead. Seven thousand men was a lot to feed, but a good commander knew not to turn down even a handful of grain. It added up.

"Yes, but will the villagers sell?" Talmanes asked. "On our way down to meet you, we had a savage time getting anyone to sell us food. Seems there isn't much to be found these days. Food is getting scarce, no matter where you go and no matter how much money you have."

Bloody perfect. Mat ground his teeth, then grew annoyed at himself for doing so. Well, maybe he was a little on edge. Not because of Tuon, though.

Either way, he needed to relax. And that village ahead—what had Vanin called it? Hinderstap? "How much coin do you have on you?"

Talmanes frowned. "Couple of gold marks, pouch full of silver crowns. Why?"

"Not enough," Mat said, rubbing his chin. "We'll have to dig some more out of my personal chest first. Maybe bring the whole thing." He turned Pips around. "Come on."

"Wait, Mat," Talmanes said, reining in and following. "What are we doing?"

"You're going to kindly take me up on my offer to go enjoy ourselves at the tavern," Mat said. "And while we're at it, we're going to resupply. If my luck's with me, we'll do it for free."

If Egwene or Nynaeve had been there, they'd have boxed his ears and told him he was going to do no such thing. Tuon probably would have looked at him curiously and then said something that made him feel his shame right down into his boots.

The good thing about Talmanes, however, was that he simply spurred his horse forward, face stoic, eyes betraying just a hint of amusement. "Well, I've got to see this, then!"

CHAPTER 21

Embers and Ash

Perrin opened his eyes and found himself hanging in the air. He felt a spike of terror, floundering in the sky. Black clouds boiled overhead, dark and ominous. Below, a plain of wild brown grasses rolled in the wind, no signs of humans. No tents, no roads, not even any footprints.

Perrin wasn't falling. He just hung there. He waved his arms reflex-ively, as if to swim, panicking as his mind tried to make sense of the dis-orientation.

The wolf dream, he thought. I'm in the wolf dream. I went to sleep, hoping to come here.

He forced himself to breathe in and out and still his flailing, though it was difficult to be calm while hanging hundreds of feet up in the sky. Suddenly, a gray-furred form shot past him, leaping through the air. The wolf soared down to the field below, landing easily.

"Hopper!"

Jump down, Young Bull. Jump. It is safe. As always, the Sending from the wolf came as a mixture of scents and images. Perrin was getting better and better at interpreting those—the soft earth as a representation of the ground, rushing wind as an image of jumping, the scent of relaxation and calmness to indicate there was no need to fear.

"But how?"

Times before, you always rushed ahead, like a pup newly weaned. Jump. Jump down! Far below, Hopper sat on his haunches in the field, grinning up at Perrin.

Perrin ground his teeth and muttered a curse or two for stubborn wolves. It seemed to him that the dead ones were particularly bull-headed. Though Hopper did have a point. Perrin had leaped before in this place, if never from the sky itself.

He took a deep breath, then closed his eyes and imagined himself jumping. Air rushed around him in a sudden burst, but then his feet hit soft ground. He opened his eyes. A large gray wolf, scarred from many fights, was sitting on the ground beside him, and wild millet spread out in a broad plain around him, heavily mixed with stands of long, thin grasses that reached high in the air. Scratchy stalks rubbed against Per-rin's arms in the wind, making him itch. The grasses smelled too dry, like cut hay left in a barn over the winter.

Some things were transitory here in the Wolf Dream; leaves lay in a pile by his feet at one moment, but then were gone the next. Everything smelled just faintly stale, as if it weren't quite there.

He looked up. The sky was stormy. Normally, clouds in this place were as transitory as other things. It could be completely overcast; then, in a blink, it would suddenly be clear. This time, those dark storm clouds remained. They boiled, spun, and shot lines of lightning between different thunderheads. Yet the lightning never struck the ground, and it made no noise.

The plain was oddly silent. The clouds shrouded the entire sky, ominous. And they did not leave.

The hast Hunt comes. Hopper looked up at the sky. We will run together, then. Unless we sleep instead.

"Sleep?" Perrin said. "What of the Last Hunt?"

It comes, Hopper agreed. If Shadowkiller falls to the storm, all will sleep forever. If he lives, then we will hunt together. You and us.

Perrin rubbed his chin, trying to sort through the Sending of images, smells, sounds, feelings. It made little sense to him.

But, well, he was here now. He'd wanted to come, and he'd decided that he'd get some answers from Hopper, if he could. It was good to see Hopper again.

Run, Hopper sent. His Sending was not alarmed. It was an offer. Let us run together.