"This is rampant exploitation! First this young lord comes in and fleeces us for everything we've got, and now he wants us to get slaughtered, just because it's supposedly the apocalypse? We've got enough apocalypse and slaughter right here! We don't need to go looking for it, and I for one-"
"Komo o'fringfran sa aso", Mat muttered under his breath as Harolin went on. He thought no one else had even heard it, but next to him Tuon paused in sipping her ale. Her eyes briefly narrowed in thought, and then she flaming kicked him under the table! Mat pretended she'd done nothing of the sort, in the name of presenting a united front. But it irked him that the bloody nobility apparently had nothing better to do than memorize obscure Old Tongue vocabulary. No one but Birgitte should have been able to translate "Put a cork in it". Besides, Birgitte would have agreed with him. That man was a windbag, and they were on a schedule.
As Harolin's rant continued, Mat thought back to several hours before. It had started out efficiently enough! They had arrived in a secluded corner a little over an hour after noon. The town had its usual hustle and bustle, but Mat noticed that people were eyeing him and whispering to their neighbors. Very quickly indeed, they 'just happened' to run into Barlden.
"So. It's you again." The burly mayor of Hinderstap gave him an assessing look. "I suppose you gambled away that eye? What did you win in return, a kingdom?"
That was nigh-on adding insult to injury, but Mat forced a laugh. "Something like that. Fortuona, this is Mayor Barlden. He's in charge of making sure visitors follow the rules." Tuon nodded delicately at him. "Mayor, this is my wife, the Empress of Seanchan."
Barlden had been looking increasingly goggle-eyed at Tuon—perhaps he'd never seen a tiny bald dark-skinned woman before?—but at Mat's words his eyebrows had risen almost to his curly hairline. Still, Barlden made a nice enough leg for someone who was clearly off-kilter. "Welcome to Hinderstap, Empress."
Tuon drawled softly, "I know you prefer to keep the secrets of Hinderstap close, Mayor Barlden. Please be equally discreet about my rank. For this visit today, you and the village may call me Lady Cauthon."
Mat blinked. He'd thought "Knotai" was an odd name, but "Lady Cauthon" was surely the strangest name he'd ever heard. As if a Cauthon would ever be a bloody flaming lord! And Tuon was going to expect him to call her that for the duration, sure as water was wet.
"We are here to propose something to you and your people," Tuon went on. "Please rest assured that we have the authority to do so, and the resources to support it."
Barlden nodded. "That's reassuring, but respectfully—I've made a deal with your husband before. If this one also involves dice, not even the Creator could get me to repeat the experience." He turned to Mat. "You're a gracious winner, my Lord, but I'm never gambling with you again."
Well, at least there weren't any hard feelings, just some hard-headed practicality from Mayor Barlden. Mat couldn't precisely fault him.
"No dice, I promise. We're looking for recruits from Hinderstap to fight in the Last Battle. The way things are looking, it's going to be in about a week, possibly less. There are some real interesting tactical maneuvers I can do with an army that doesn't stay dead."
Barlden stared at him. "A week? And you want to hold the Last Battle here?"
"Oh, no. Not here!" Mat held up his hands as if to fend off the idea. "We've got a way to transport you instantly to anywhere."
Barlden's eyes widened. Tuon added, "It is a new application of the One Power, called Traveling. The advantage of working with my assets is that you would not need to involve the White Tower. I understand that you are not eager to attract the attention of—Aes Sedai." Mat could still hear the slight pause as she veered away from marath'damane, but if you weren't listening for it, and especially if you weren't used to her drawling accent, it wasn't obvious. That had to be a good sign.
Barlden still looked a little poleaxed. He shook himself and sighed. "We will definitely have to convene the Council for this. Meet us at The Constant Rabbit in half an hour." He turned to stride away in the direction of the bell tower, and then paused. "You'll want to get comfortable seats, my Lord, my Lady. It's going to be a long argument."
That was when Mat first started getting that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
The Constant Rabbit turned out to be the nice inn he'd ignored on his first visit. Between the bell-ringing and the way gossip ran in this town, by the time they got there a private room, large but windowless, had already been reserved and was starting to fill up. The floral theme he'd noticed in Barlden's sitting room continued here; he spotted several potted plants, including some small ornamental trees, decorating sideboards and corners. The plants looked healthy, and there were no fallen leaves or dust around them, suggesting that they'd been moved in just for the meeting. Perhaps someone was trying to spruce things up for the visiting dignitaries, Lord and Lady Cauthon. Mat scowled.
Tuon insisted on claiming the only two empty seats next to each other, which happened to have their backs to the mantel with the clock on it. The combination of no natural light and no direct line of sight to the clock made Mat a little nervous, but he didn't think it was worth starting an argument in front of the whole Council. Besides, the villagers would be able to see what time it was, and with outsiders in the mix, they'd be on high alert.
While they waited for Barlden to call the meeting to order, Tuon ordered an ale, again. Mat guessed that either the novelty hadn't worn off, or she actually really did like the stuff. For his part, he'd rather soured on Hinderstap's ale after the last time, and opted instead for mediocre wine he didn't intend to touch. When the room was packed with village representatives, Mat took the nod from Barlden and stood up. "Thank you all for your indulgence. I promise, no dice today." He'd hoped to get a chuckle out of them, to loosen some of the tension in the room, but got nary a peep. Well, straight to the pitch then.
"I'm here to recruit some Hinderstap Irregulars to fight in the Last Battle, which will be next week, or perhaps a little sooner." He raised his voice a little above the murmuring. "The idea is to use this nasty trick the Dark One's played on you to play a nasty trick on him right back. We can transport you to the battlefront, the Field of Merrilor, directly from Hinderstap in the time it takes you to take a single step." That generated a lot of interest, as it should. He raised his voice a little bit more. "I won't hide this from you; I am asking every volunteer to die in daylight to bait a trap for Trollocs. Once you're out of the way, they'll dam that part of the river and the next morning you'll reappear and smash the dam, killing at least ten Trollocs per person without any additional work on your part. You'll just sit back and let the water wash them away." He sat down to a raucous outburst of questions and complaints.
Barlden said mildly, but in a carrying voice, "One at a time, please. You'll all have a chance to question Lord and Lady Cauthon, and then we'll vote on whether to bring this proposal to the town at large." Mat had winced and taken a sip of wine to cover it, remembering too late why he had resolved not to do that. It was definitely going to vinegar.
"I want to know how Lord Cauthon has the gall to ask us all to be murdered by Shadowspawn in broad daylight! I get enough of that sort of thing in my dreams," said one man, who Mat thought he might have diced with the last time he was here, and so who likely had a score to settle. "If we're going to fight in the Last Battle, and I'm not saying we are, it seems like there would be a better time to send us all over, one that wouldn't leave us with horrible memories." It took Mat a moment to catch on that the man was suggesting they fight at night instead. He still didn't entirely see why people wouldn't just say what was going on here in plain language. It was one thing if you were trying to keep a secret, but everyone in this room knew the score.
"I can't give orders to a pack of ravening—" Seeing their expressions, he hastily switched tactics. "I mean, I can't give orders and expect you to retain them when you're all, uh, fired up. Besides, the Trollocs need to have time to build the dam. I'm afraid it has to be daylight."
"So you're asking us to get slaughtered. In a way that we will remember. What could be worth that? I assume you haven't died before, but I am fairly certain that dying in battle is not a pleasant experience," said the man, unaware that Mat did in fact have a great many memories of dying in battle, all of them deeply unpleasant. For a moment he considered pointing this out and commiserating with the man, but he didn't want them to think he was crazy.
"I understand. It's a lot to ask of someone, to go through that, and have those memories," Mat said, perhaps a touch more fervently than he'd intended. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't the Last Battle. This is the one for all the marbles. Believe me, if I had any other choice, I would be as far away as possible, but there's no running from this one." A thought had struck him, then. "And while I can make absolutely no promises about this, it's possible that if we win the Last Battle, and the Dragon Reborn does whatever it is he's supposed to be doing, Hinderstap might not have this little problem afterwards. Maybe fixing the Dark One's prison will be enough to fix things here."
"That's as may be," said a hard-faced woman seated across from him, who had introduced herself as Vyra. "We don't know what would happen to us. Maybe anyone who died in your Last Battle wouldn't come back, then. Or all of us will die, if it comes to that. Myself, I don't count on such uncertainties. I'm planning for a future that looks much like the one we have. So what do we get out of this deal now, if we take it?" Vyra looked at him appraisingly. "You said yourself, this is a lot to ask. Our help doesn't come free, not even for the Last Battle."
"Of course. We're happy to tell you what you'll get out of this deal," Mat had said, putting on his best attempt at a trustworthy smile. "In addition to knowing you spared the lives of a group of people who would absolutely not recover from being Trolloc bait, we can throw in a couple other things to sweeten the pot. Lady Cauthon, will you take the floor?" he added, hitching his smile up even higher and turning to Tuon. If she wanted to play name games again, so be it.
Tuon remained seated, but she pitched her voice to carry, and Mat thought she was trying to speak a little more quickly than usual. "The Seanchan Empire is prepared to offer supplies of cloth and clothing, building materials, and food. We can also give residents access to almost-instantaneous transit out of Hinderstap to anywhere they wish to go, and back again. You would be able to go beyond a half-day's horse or wagon-travel, and perhaps see distant friends or relatives, or conduct business with faraway associates." Again the murmurs rose, but Tuon quelled them with a look. Mat rather admired how effective that was, when it wasn't being used on him. "This method of transit would be subject to any curfew or other rules your leadership wishes to enforce, as well as the availability of personnel and resources to support it. Once terms are settled, we would revisit after a year or if the unique needs of Hinderstap changed, whichever is first."
Vyra responded, "What is this transit, exactly? We've never heard of such a thing. It sounds like Aes Sedai work."
"It is called Travelling. A gateway or window opens in the air to another place, and you can step through it and be anywhere in the world. It is a thing of the One Power, but the White Tower need not be involved, if you work with me. The Seanchan Empire has a way of strictly controlling those who channel, for the safety of everyone, and by working with us you would avoid entangling yourselves with the Aes Sedai and the White Tower," said Tuon.
"Hang on, my cousin told me about this Seanchan Empire," said another voice at that point, possibly Sammrie the cooper, whom Barlden had mentioned on Mat's previous visit. "Kelena said they have Aes Sedai on leashes! That's likely to bring us a whole heap of trouble with the Aes Sedai!" Mat had silently agreed with them, and watched Tuon absorb this criticism.
Her mouth tightened. "Your information is not inaccurate, though it is limited. We do have some damane that once called themselves Aes Sedai. However, most were never involved with the White Tower. If you are concerned about angering the Aes Sedai, our sul'dam and damane would first transit people to Seanchan territory, and from there to wherever they wished to go. There are no Aes Sedai who would trouble you about this business from within our borders."
At that point, order broke down and everyone started talking at once, mostly ignoring him and Tuon. Some discussed whether it was worth getting involved in the world outside at all, while some speculated about how the Last Battle might affect the town. "What if the Dragon seals away the Dark One, and we never wake up again?" was one chilling comment that stuck in Mat's head. To be honest, he wouldn't bet against it. But at the same time, you had to act like you were going to keep on living, or what was the point of doing anything?
The other arguments were more about ethics. Mat had opened quite a can of worms with his offhand comment about Trolloc bait. There was a fierce argument about whether Hinderstap residents had a moral obligation to replace ordinary soldiers, who would permanently die 'defending' the ford, or if there was no moral obligation, those soldiers consented to dying when they signed up. The whole thing reminded Mat of conversations he'd had with himself in the small hours of the night, and he was glad when the ethical arguments shifted out of his sphere into Tuon's.
There definitely were Hinderstap residents uncomfortable with using Seanchan labor or accepting their goods, but most people barely knew who the Seanchan were, and even those who were aware were going only by rumor. Tuon answered questions about Seanchan policies or the offered terms when asked, but otherwise held her tongue, observing.
And, of course, a good deal of the conversation was just good old-fashioned complaining. Mat had heard many times from his da that complaining was an important part of any Village Council meeting, but Hinderstap took the cake. Everyone just had to share their opinion on whether being murdered by Trollocs in the daytime was worse than being murdered by your neighbor in your dreams. It was decidedly not the sort of thing that went on in the Emond's Field village council meetings! Well, Mat hoped it wasn't, anyway. Tuon seemed to be more patient than him. He thought she looked moved by the stories of resident's nighttime experiences. She had a tender heart in some matters. Others... not at all.
Tuon shifted minutely beside him, straightening her spine, and that brought him back to the present. Bloody Harolin was still going strong, but when he stopped to take a breath, Tuon clapped her hands sharply. Everyone snapped to attention, even Harolin.
"Regardless of the decision you make today, know that the Seanchan Empire is prepared to provide regular Travelling services to you, free of charge and subject to your local rules. No one should be denied the benefits of connection to the wider world. You have all suffered greatly in relative isolation, and it is in our power to help you reconnect with others on your own terms. We will offer you this, whether you fight for the Light in the Last Battle or not."
In the silence, she added, "It is of course your choice whether you wish to accept our transportation. It is possible there are other parties who are willing and able to do it." She left the rest hanging in the air, unspoken. Were they likely to find an Aes Sedai who would offer better terms, or from whom they would all accept help in the first place? Now that they knew Travelling was within their grasp, Mat thought they'd be hard-pressed to turn it down. And the reminder that they were part of a larger community, and had ties and obligations to others beyond just their cursed village, might convince them to fight. Well, assuming anyone was motivated by that sort of thing.
To Mat's mild surprise, it appeared to work. After a bit of hemming and hawing, the Council agreed to accept the gift of the Seanchan gateway service, at least for the present. Most importantly, they voted in favor of spreading the word about fighting in the Last Battle, although the vote was narrower than Mat liked, at twenty-two to eighteen. The food, building supplies, and cloth and clothing Tuon had originally mentioned also stayed in play, though who precisely was getting them, and in what quantities, had yet to be determined. Still, the vote had passed, and anything beyond that was not Mat's problem.
"That's that, then," Mat said to Barlden, heaving a sigh of relief. "Tomorrow our people will talk to your people and work out the details. I'll send a representative from the Band of the Red Hand, and she'll send someone from the Empire." He shook hands with Barlden as the rest of the village streamed out of the private room, and waited for Tuon to come back from the necessary.
Barlden and one of his associates noticed Mat was hanging back, and the associate said something in a quick aside, glancing at Mat. Without following the glance, but loud enough for Mat to hear, Barlden replied, "He knows the risks." Bloody right I do, thought Mat. He watched them go, wishing he could join them.
After what seemed an Age, Tuon finally arrived back in the private room, closing the door behind her, as if there was any reason to do so. "Well?" he said to her, and if he was a touch impatient, he had cause. The mantel clock was just shy of the hour, and they had a gateway to catch. "Daylight's wasting."
Then Tuon looked up at him through her long, long lashes and said, "Actually, I was thinking of getting a room here."