"Ah, I see. And what did you do to those buns?"
"Sprinklewort," Mat said. "It'll turn her mouth blue for a week, maybe two. And she won't share the sweetbuns with anyone, except maybe her Warders. Joline is addicted to the things. She must have eaten seven or eight bags' worth since we got to Caemlyn."
"Nice," Thom said, knuckling his mustache. "Childish, though."
"I'm trying to get back to my basic roots," Mat said. "You know, recapture some of my lost youth."
"You're barely twenty winters old!"
"Sure, but I did a lot of living when I was younger. Come on. Mistress Anan is staying, and that gives me an idea."
"You need a shave, Matrim Cauthon." Mistress Anan folded her arms as she regarded him.
He reached up, touching his face. Lopin had always done that, each morning. The man got as sulky as a dog in the rain when Mat did not let him do such things, though lately Mat had been growing out his beard to avoid notice. It still itched like a week-old scab.
He had found Setalle at the supply tents, overseeing the midday meal. Soldiers from the Band hunkered down, chopping vegetables and stewing beans with the furtive expression of men who had been given firm instructions. Setalle was not needed here; the Band's cooks had always been able to prepare meals without her. But there was nothing a woman liked better
than finding men who were relaxing, then giving them orders. Besides, Setalle was a former innkeeper and remarkably a former Aes Sedai. Mat often found her supervising things that did not need supervising.
Not for the first time, he wished Tuon were still traveling with him. Setalle had usually taken Tuon's side, but staying with the Daughter of the Nine Moons had often kept her busy. Nothing was more dangerous for the sanity of men than a woman with too much time on her hands.
Setalle still wore clothing of the Ebou Dari style, which Mat found pleasant, considering the plunging neckline. That kind of outfit worked particularly well on a woman as buxom as Setalle. Not that he noticed. She had golden hoops in her ears, a stately demeanor and gray in her hair. The jeweled wedding knife worn around her neck seemed something of a warning, the way it nestled in her cleavage. Not that Mat noticed that, either.
"I've been growing the beard intentionally," Mat said to her statement. "I want to "
"Your coat is dirty," she said, nodding to a soldier who brought her some onions he had peeled. He sheepishly poured them into a pot, not looking at Mat. "And your hair a mess. You look like you've been in a brawl, and it's not yet noon."
"I'm fine," Mat said. "I'll clean up later. You didn't go with the Aes Sedai."
"Each step toward Tar Valon would take me farther from where I need to be. I need to send word to my husband. When we parted, I didn't suspect that I'd end up in Andor of all places."
"I'm thinking I might be getting access to someone who can make gateways here soon," Mat said. "And I . . ." He frowned as another group of soldiers approached, carrying
a few undersized quail they'd hunted. The soldiers looked ashamed of the terrible catch.
Setalle ordered them to pluck the birds without so much as a glance toward Mat. Light, he needed to get her out of his camp. Things would not be normal here until they were all gone.
"Don't look at me like that, Lord Mat," Setalle said. "Noram went into the city to see what kind of provisions he could find. I've noted that without the cook himself here to prod the men, meals don't get done at any reasonable speed. Not all of us like to take lunch when the sun is setting."
"I didn't say a thing," Mat said, keeping his voice even. He nodded to the side. "Can we talk for a moment?"
Setalle hesitated, then nodded and stepped away from the others with him. "What's going on really?" she said softly. "You look like you slept under a hay pile."
"I slept under a wagon, actually. And my tent's stained with blood. Not really looking forward to going there to change clothing right now."
Her gaze softened. "I understand your loss. But that's no excuse to go around looking like you've been living in an alleyway. You'll need to hire another serving man."
Mat scowled. "I never needed one in the first place. I can take care of myself. Look, I have a favor to ask of you. I want you to watch after Olver for a little while."
"For what purpose?"
"That thing might come back," Mat said. "And it could try to hurt him. Besides, I'm going to be leaving with Thom shortly. I might be back. I should be back. But if I don't, I . . . Well, I would rather he not be left alone."
She studied him. "He would not be alone. The men in camp seem to have a great deal of fondness for the child."
"Sure, but I don't like the things they're teaching him. The boy needs better examples than that lot."
She seemed amused by that for some reason. "I've already begun instructing the child in letters. I suppose I can watch after him for a time, if need be."