TITLE - Lord of Chaos
CHAPTER: 40 - Unexpected Laughter

"You have to help me talk some sense into them," Mat said around his pipestem. "Thom, are you listening?"

They were seated on upended kegs in the scant shade of a two-story house, smoking their pipes, and the lanky old gleeman seemed more interested in staring at the letter Rand had sent on to him. Now he stuffed it into his coat pocket with the tree-and-crown seal yet unbroken. The buzz of voices and squeak of axles from the street at the end of the alley seemed distant. Sweat dripped from both their faces. At least one thing was taken care of for the moment. Mat had come out of the Little Tower to find that a group of Aes Sedai had hauled Aviendha away somewhere; she would not be sticking a knife in anybody any time soon.

Thom took his pipe from his mouth. It was a long-stemmed thing, carved all over with oak leaves and acorns. "I once tried to rescue a woman, Mat. Laritha was a rose in bud, and married to a glowering brute of a bootmaker in a village where I broke my journey for a few days. A brute. He shouted at her if dinner wasn’t ready when he wanted to sit down, and took a switch to her if he saw her say more than two words to another man."

"Thom, what in the Pit of Doom does this have to do with making those fool women see sense?"

"Just listen, boy. How he treated her was common knowledge in the village, but Laritha told me herself, all the while moaning over how she wished someone would rescue her. I had gold in my purse and a fine coach, a driver and a manservant. I was young and good-looking." Thom knuckled his white mustaches and sighed; it was hard to believe that leathery face had ever been good-looking. Mat blinked. A coach? When had a gleeman ever had a coach? "Mat, the woman’s plight wrung my heart. And I won’t deny her face tugged at it, too. As I said, I was young; I thought I was in love, a hero out of the stories. So one day, sitting beneath a flowering apple tree – well away from the bootmaker’s house – I offered to take her away. I’d give her a maid and a house of her own, and court her with songs and verse. When she finally understood, she kicked me in the knee so hard I limped for a month, and hit me with the bench besides."

"They all seem to like kicking," Mat muttered, shifting his weight on the keg. "I suppose she didn’t believe you, and who can blame her?"

"Oh, she believed. And was outraged that I thought she would ever leave her beloved husband. Her word; beloved. She ran back to the man as fast as her feet would go, and I had the choice of killing him or leaping into my coach. I had to leave behind almost every stitch I owned. I expect she’s still living with him much as before. Holding the purse strings tight in her fist and cracking his head open with whatever lies to hand every time he stops into the inn for an ale. As she always had, so I learned later from a few discreet inquiries." He stuck the pipe back between his teeth as if he had made a point.

Mat scratched his head. "I don’t see what that has to do with this."

"Just that you shouldn’t think you know the whole story when you’ve heard part. For instance, do you know Elayne and Nynaeve will be leaving for Ebou Dar in a day or so? Juilin and I are to go along."

"Ebou...!" Mat barely caught his pipe before it fell into the dead weeds that carpeted the alley. Nalesean had told some stories about a visit to Ebou Dar, and even counting in the way he exaggerated when it came to women he had known and fights he had been in, the place sounded rough. So they thought they could slip Elayne away from him, did they? "Thom, you have to help me – "

"What?" Thom broke in. "Steal them away from the bootmaker?" He blew up a streamer of blue smoke. "I won’t do that, boy. You still don’t know the whole story. How do you feel about Egwene and Nynaeve? On second thought, make that just Egwene."

Mat frowned, wondering whether the man thought he could fuddle everything up by going around in circles long enough. "I like Egwene. I... Burn me, Thom, she’s Egwene; that’s saying enough right there. That’s why I am trying to save her fool neck for her."

"Save her from her bootmaker, you mean," Thom murmured, but Mat went right on.

"Her neck and Elayne’s as well; even Nynaeve’s, if I can stop from throttling her myself. Light! I only want to help them. Besides, Rand will break my neck if I let anything happen to Elayne."

"Have you ever thought of helping them do what they want instead of what you want? If I did what I wanted, I’d have Elayne on a horse and riding to Andor. She needs to do other things – needs to, I think – so I trot around after her, sweating day and night that somebody will manage to kill her before I can prevent it. She will go to Caemlyn when she’s ready." He sucked at his pipe complacently, but there was a slight edge to his voice at the end, as if he did not like his words even as much as he pretended.

"It seems to me they want to hand their heads to Elaida." So Thom would have that silly wench on a horse, would he? A gleeman hauling the Daughter-Heir off to be crowned! He did have a grand sense of himself, Thom did.

"You aren’t a fool, Mat," Thom said quietly. "You know better. Egwene... It’s hard to think of that child as Amyrlin... " Mat grunted sourly in agreement; Thom paid him no mind. "... yet I believe she has the backbone for it. It’s too early to say whether a few things are just happenstance, but I’m beginning to believe she may have the brains as well. The question is, is she tough enough? If she lacks that, they will eat her alive – backbone, brains and all."

"Who will? Elaida?"

"Oh, her. If she has the chance; that one lacks nothing for toughness. But the Aes Sedai right here hardly think of Egwene as Aes Sedai; Amyrlin maybe, but not Aes Sedai, hard as that is to believe." Thom shook his head. "I don’t understand, but it’s true. The same for Elayne and Nynaeve. They try to keep it among themselves, but even Aes Sedai don’t hide as much as they think, if you watch close and keep your wits about you." He pulled out that letter again, just turning it over in his hands without looking at it. "Egwene is walking the edge of a precipice, Mat, and three factions right here in Salidar – three that I’m sure of – might push her over if she makes one wrong step. Elayne will follow if that happens, and Nynaeve. Or maybe they’ll push them over first to pull her down."

"Right here in Salidar," Mat said, flat as a planed board. Thom nodded calmly; and Mat could not stop his voice from rising. "And you want me to leave them here?"

"I want you to stop thinking you’re going to make them do anything. They’ve decided what they are going to do, and you can’t change it. But maybe – just maybe – you can help me keep them alive."

Mat jumped to his feet. In his head was an image of a woman with a knife stuck between her breasts; not one of the borrowed memories. He kicked the keg he had been sitting on, sending it rolling along the alley. Help a gleeman keep them alive? A faint memory stirred, something about Basel Gill, an innkeeper in Caemlyn, saying something about Thom, but it was like mist, gone as soon as he tried to hold it. "Who’s the letter from, Thom? Another woman you rescued? Or did you leave her where she could get her head cut off?"

"I left her," Thom said softly. Rising, he walked away without another word.