"I doubt we're in the tower anymore," Mat said. Up ahead, he could see a slice out of the side of the wall, a kind of window. It was set up a little too high up to feel natural.
"Then where. . . ." Noal trailed off as they reached the window, which was an off-center square. Through it, they could look out at an unnatural landscape. They were up several floors in some kind of spire, but that certainly was not Andor outside.
The window looked out ovet a canopy of dense vegetation that was too yellow. Mat recognized the wispy ttees with a drooping umbrella of branches at the top, though before he had seen them from below. The fernlike trees with their spreading fans of leaves were familiar as well, though those had deep black fruits hanging from them now. The large fruits caused the leaves to droop.
"Mercy of the Winnower," Noal whispered, a phrase Mat had never heard before.
Noal had reason to be astonished; Mat remembered looking out at that forest for the first time, realizing that the twisted doorway had not brought him to another place, but another world entirely.
Mat looked to the side. Could he see the three spires he had noted on his first visit? They did not seem to be about, though in this place, the very next window they passed could show a different scene. They could. . . .
He paused, then glanced sharply through the window. He could make out a spire to the left. And then he knew. He was in one of the spires he had seen in the distance during his first visit.
He stifled a shiver and turned away. At least he knew fot certain he was in the same place. Did that mean that the worlds of the Aelfinn and the Eelfinn were the same? He hoped so. Moiraine had fallen through the second of the twisted ted doorways, which meant she had most likely been taken by the Eelfinn, the foxes.
They were the ones who had hanged Mat; the snakes, at least, had only tossed him out of their realm without any useful answers. He bore them a grudge, but the foxes . . . they had refused to answer his questions, and had given him these bloody memories instead!
Mat and the others continued down the hallway, their footsteps echoing against the flooring. Soon, Mat began to get the sense that he was being watched. He had felt it before, on his other visits. He turned to the side, and caught a glimpse of faint motion far behind.
He spun, preparing to toss his torch aside and fight with his ashandarei, but saw nothing. The other two froze, looking about, anxious. Mat continued on sheepishly, though he felt less so aftet Thom did the same thing a short time later. Thom went so far as to throw a knife at a datkened patch of the wall.
The iron weapon clanked against the surface. The dull ring echoed for far too long in the hallway. "Sorry," Thom said.
"It's all right," Mat said.
"They're watching us, aren't they?" Noal asked. His voice was soft, faintly nervous. Light! Mat felt as if he was going to jump out of his skin and run away, leaving it behind. Compared to that, Noal seemed steady.
"I suspect they are, at that," Mat said.
Within a few moments, they reached the end of the too-long hallway. Here, they entered a chamber that was identical to the first, save it had no doorway in the centet. It split off in four directions, each corridor disappearing into the distant darkness.
They picked another direction, memorizing the path they wete taking, unseen eyes scratching at their backs. His footsteps grew more hurried as they traversed the length of the hallway and entered another chamber. It was exactly like the previous one.
"Easy to be disoriented in a place like this," Noal said. He opened his pack and got out a sheet of paper and a charcoal pencil. He made three dots on his paper, then connected them by lines, representing the corridors and rooms they'd gone through. "It's all a matter of keeping a good map. A good map can mean life or death; you can trust me on that."
Mat tutned around, looking back the way they had come. Part of him wanted to keep going, not look backward, but he had to know. "Come on," he said, going back the way they had come.
Thom and Noal shared looks, but once again hurried to catch up. It took them a good half-hour to retrace their steps back to the first chamber, the one that should contain the doorway. They found it empty. Those columns of steam rose from the comets. They had in the other two rooms, too.
"Impossible!" Noal said. "We retraced our steps perfectly! The way out should be here."
In the distance faint and almost inaudible Mat heard laughter. A hissing, dangerous laughter. Malicious.
Mat's skin grew icy. "Thom," he said, "you ever hear a story about Birgitte Silverbow and her visit to the Tower of Ghenjei?"
"Birgitte?" Thom asked, looking up from his inspection with Noal of the floor. They seemed convinced that the doorway must have been pulled down into some hidden trapdoor. "No, can't say that I have."
"What about a story of a woman trapped for two months in a maze of cotridors inside a fortress?"
"Two months?" Thom said. "Well, no. But there's the tale of Elmiara and the Shadoweyes. She spent a hundred days wandering in a maze, looking for the infamous healing spring of Sund to save her lover's life."
That was probably it. The story had survived; it had changed forms, the way so many of them did. "She didn't get out, did she?"
"No. She died at the end, only two steps away from the fountain, but separated from it by a wall. She could hear it bubbling; it was the last sound she heard before dying from thirst." He glanced about uncomfortably, as if uncertain he wanted to be sharing such a story in this place.
Mat shook his head, worried. Burn him, but he hated these foxes. There had to be a way to
"You have broken the bargain," a soft voice said.