"I . . ." He took the roll of paper. "I'll consider it, Elayne."
"Excellent." She grimaced. "I'm afraid I have an appointment with my midwife now, but I will see you at dinner. I haven't yet asked what Matrim meant by calling himself a married man in his letter. I expect a full report! No expurgations!" She eyed Mat, smiling slyly. "Expurgation means 'parts cut out,' Mat. In case you weren't bloody aware."
He put his hat on. "I knew that." What had that word been again? Expirations? Light, why had he mentioned his marriage in that letter? He had hoped it would make Elayne curious enough to see him.
Elayne laughed, gesturing them toward the exit. Thom spared a paternal kiss for her cheek before parting good that it was paternal! Mat had heard some things about those two that he did not want to believe. With Thom old enough to be her grandfather, no less.
Mat pulled open the door, moving to leave.
"And Mat," Elayne added. "If you need to borrow money to buy a new coat, the Crown can lend you some. Considering your station, you really should dress more nicely."
"I'm no bloody nobleman!" he said, turning.
"Not yet," she said. "You don't have Perrin's audacity in naming yourself to a title. I'll see that you get one." "You wouldn't dare," he said.
"But "
"See here," he said as Thom joined him in the hallway. "I'm proud of who I am. And I like this coat. It's comfortable." He clenched his hands into fists, refusing to scratch at his collar.
"If you say so," Elayne said. "I will see you at dinner. I'll have to bring Dyelin. She's very curious to meet you."
With that, she had Birgitte close the door. Mat stared at it vengefully for a moment, then turned toward Thom. Talmanes and the soldiers waited a short distance down the hallway, out of hearing range. They were being given warm tea by some palace servants.
"That went well," Mat decided, hands on hips. "I worried she wouldn't bite, but I think I reeled her in pretty well." Though the bloody dice were still rolling in his head.
Thom laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.
"What?" Mat demanded.
Tom just chuckled, then glanced down at the scroll in his other hand. "And this was unexpected as well."
"Well, Andor doesn't have a court-bard," Mat said.
"Yes," Thom said, looking over the scroll. "But there's a pardon written in here too, for any and all crimes known and unknown I may have committed in Andor or Cairhien. I wonder who told her. . . ."
"Told her what?"
"Nothing, Mat. Nothing at all. We have a few hours until dinner with Elayne. What do you say we go buy you a new coat?"
"All right," Mat said. "You think I could get one of those pardons, too, if I asked for it?"
"Do you need one?"
Mat shrugged, walking down the hallway with him. "Can't hurt to be safe. What kind of coat are you going to buy me, anyway?" "I didn't say I'd pay."
"Don't be so stingy," Mat said. "I'll pay for dinner." And bloody ashes, somehow, Mat knew, he would.
CHAPTER 20
A Choice
You must not speak," Rosil said to Nynaeve. The slender, long-necked woman wore an orange dress slashed with yellow. "At least, speak only when spoken to. You know the ceremony?"
Nynaeve nodded, her heart beating treacherously as they walked into the dungeonlike depths of the White Tower. Rosil was the new Mistress of Novices, and a member of the Yellow Ajah by coincidence.
"Excellent, excellent," Rosil said. "Might I suggest you move the ring to the third finger of your left hand?"
"You may suggest it," Nynaeve said, but did not move the ring. She had been named Aes Sedai. She would not give in on that point.