"Hobble the horses,” Mat said, "and put the feedbags on to stop whinnying." They were facing lancers. If it all turned sour and they tried to run, those lancers would ride them down like they were hunting wild pigs. A crossbow was no good from horseback, especially if you were trying to get away. They had to win here.
The Cairhienin stared at him, any expression hidden by the face-bars of his helmet, but he did not hesitate. "Hobble the horses and put on their nosebags," he ordered. "Every man on the line."
"Tell off some to keep watch north and south," Mat told him. "Battle luck can run against you as easily as in your favor." Mandevwin nodded and gave the order.
The crossbowmen divided and rode up the thinly treed slopes, their dark coats and dull green armor fading into the shadows. Burnished armor was all very well for parades, but it could reflect moonlight as well as sunlight. According to Talmanes, the hard part had been convincing the lancers to give up their bright breastplates and the nobles their silvering and gilding. The foot had seen sense straight off.
For a time there was the rustle of men and horses moving across the mulch, moving through brush, but finally silence fell. From the road, Mat could not have told there was anyone on either slope. Now he just had to wait.
Tuon and Selucia kept him company, and so did Teslyn. A gusting breeze had sprung up from the west that tugged at cloaks, but of course, Aes Sedai could ignore such things, though Teslyn held hers shut. Selucia let the gusts take her cloak where it would, oddly, but Tuon took to holding hers closed with one hand.
"You might be more comfortab
le among the trees," he told her. "They'll cut the wind.''
For a moment, she shook with silent laughter. "I'm enjoying watching you take your ease on your hilltop," she drawled.
Mat blinked. Hilltop? He was sitting Pips in the middle of the bloody road with flaming gusts cutting through his coat like winter was coming back. What was she talking about, hilltop?
"Have a care with Joline," Teslyn said, suddenly and unexpectedly. "She be . . . childish ... in some ways, and you do fascinate her the way a shiny new toy do fascinate a child. She will bond you if she can decide how to convince you to agree. Perhaps even if you do no realize you be agreeing.''
He opened his mouth to say there was no bloody flaming chance of that, but Tuon spoke first.
"She cannot have him," she said sharply. Drawing a breath, she went on in amused tones. "Toy belongs to me. Until I am through playing with him. But even then, I won't give him to a marath'damane. You understand me, Tessi? You tell Rosi that. That's the name I intended to give her. You can tell her that, too."
The sharp gusts might not have affected Teslyn, but she shivered at hearing her damane name. Aes Sedai serenity vanished as rage contorted her face. "What I do understand—!"
"Give over!" Mat cut in. "Both of you. I'm in no mood to listen to the pair of you trying to jab each other with needles." Teslyn stared at him, indignation plain even by moonlight.
"Why, Toy," Tuon said brightly, "you're being masterful again." She leaned over to Selucia and whispered something that made the bosomy woman give a loud guffaw.
Hunching his shoulders and pulling his cloak around him, he leaned on the high pommel of his saddle and watched the night for Vanin. Women! He would give up all of his luck—well, half—if he could understand women.
"What do you think you can achieve with raids and ambushes?" Teslyn said, again not for the first time. "The Seanchan will only send enough soldiers to hunt you down." She and Joline had kept trying to stick their noses into his planning, and so had Edesina to a lesser extent, until he chased them away. Aes Sedai thought they knew everything, and while Joline at least did know something of war, he had not needed advice. Aes Sedai advice sounded an awful lot like telling you what to do. This time, he decided to answer her.
"I'm counting on them sending more soldiers, Teslyn," he said, still watching for Vanin. "The whole army they have in the Molvaine Gap, in fact. Enough of it, anyway. They're more likely to use that than any other. Everything Thom and Juilin picked up says their big push is aimed at Illian. I think the army in the Gap is to guard against anything coming at them out of Murandy or Andor. But they're the stopper in the jar for us. I mean to pull that stopper out so we can pass through."
After several minutes of silence, he looked over his shoulder. The three women were just sitting their horses and watching him. He wished he had enough light to make out their expressions. Why were they bloody staring? He settled back to looking for Vanin, yet it seemed he could feel their eyes on his back.
Perhaps two hours by the shifting of the fat crescent moon went by, with the wind slowly picking up strength. It was enough to take the night beyond cool into cold. Periodically he tried to make the women take shelter among the trees, but they resisted stubbornly. He had to remain, to catch Vanin without having to shout—the lancers would be close behind the man; perhaps very close if their commander was a fool—but they did not. He suspected that Teslyn refused because Tuon and Selucia did. That made no sense, but there it was. As for why Tuon refused, he could not have said unless it was because she liked to listen to him arguing himself hoarse. Eventually the wind brought the sound of a running horse, and he sat up straight in his saddle. Vanin's dun cantered out of the night, the bulky man as always an improbable sight in a saddle.
Vanin drew rein and spat through a gap in his teeth. "They're a mile or so behind me, but there's maybe a thousand more than there was this morning. Whoever's in charge knows his business. They're pushing hard without blowing their horses."
"If you be outnumbered two to one," Teslyn said, "perhaps you will reconsider—"
"I don't intend to give them a stand-up fight," Mat broke in. "And I can't afford to leave four thousand lancers loose to make trouble for me. Let's join Mandevwin."
The kneeling crossbowmen on the slope of the northern hill made no sound when he rode through their line with the women and Vanin, just shuffled aside to let them through. He would have preferred at least two ranks, but he needed to cover a wide front. The sparse trees did cut the wind, but not by much, and most of the men were huddled in their cloaks. Still, every crossbow he could see was drawn, with a bolt in place. Mandevwin had seen Vanin arrive and knew what it meant.
The Cairhienin was pacing just behind the line until Mat appeared and swung down from Pips. Mandevwin was relieved to hear that he no longer needed to keep a watch to his rear. He merely nodded thoughtfully at hearing of a thousand more lancers than expected and sent a man racing off to bring the watchers down from the crest to take their places in the line. If Mat Cauthon took it in stride, so would he. Mat had forgotten that about the Band. They trusted him absolutely. Once, that had almost made him break out in a rash. Tonight, he was glad of it.
An owl hooted twice, somewhere behind him, and Tuon sighed. "Is there an omen in that?" he asked, just for something to say.
"I'm glad you are finally taking an interest, Toy. Perhaps I will be able to educate you yet." Her eyes were liquid in the moonlight. "An owl hooting twice means someone will die soon." Well, that put a bloody end to conversation.
Soon enough, the Seanchan appeared, four abreast and leading their horses at a trot, lances in hand. Vanin had been right about their commander knowing his job. Cantered for a time then led at a trot, horses could cover a lot of ground quickly. Fools tried to gallop long distances and ended with dead or crippled horses.
Only the first forty or so wore the segmented armor and strange helmets of Seanchan. A pity, that. He had no idea how the Seanchan would feel about casualties to their Altaran allies. Losses to their own would catch notice, though.