(AN – Chapter thirteen. I should have known this one would be trouble. It's caused me more grief than any of the others put together. The damned chapter has been mercilessly wiped from treacherous discs TWICE, prompting two full re-writes that became more and more mundane and tiresome and downright god-awful every time I hacked away at my keyboard (yes, a wiser person would have made back-up copies, but not me. Oh no. That would have made far too much sense). They say thirteen is unlucky for some, and I seem to have discovered my numerical nemesis. Right, now that's off my chest, genuine thanks to Sammy-Jo and dueljewl for the reviews. To the former, thanks for your polite critique and readers insight. I'm glad you liked the two installments you reviewed, although I'm guessing you'll get some serious writer's cramp if you indulge me for the rest of the chapters ( but don't let that stop you ;) ). And dueljewl, you like the idea of the romance-y thing, eh? I've given it some thought, but the fic. would inevitably end up as either a drippy slush-fest, or some dreadfully nihilistic tale of doom ( I just love unhappy endings, don't you?) Besides, I don't read romance at all, so any attempt at fluff would probably be an uber-disaster. Oh, and regarding the whole symbol thing, it's actually not the dreaded Dragon Fang, but I'm sure (fingers crossed) that everything will become clearer in the upcoming chapters. Right, that's enough yammering from me. Thanks again for reviewing.

**Disclaimer** - These are getting old now...

Chapter Thirteen

The inside of the tent was brighter than Mat expected but still proved welcome respite from the noonday sun. Shafts of light arrowed through the stifling interior, blazing though the small tears in the canvas. Mat rubbed at his nose; that unpleasantly familiar fragrance, so offensively medicinal, clung to the dry air.

'It seems we have happened upon your least favourite tent.' The girls words were soft and hesitant, the first he had heard her utter since the the incident.

'That blasted green stuff.' He rubbed at his nose more vigorously. 'Hangs around like a bad smell, eh?'

Mai made a noncommittal sound as she lowered herself onto a pallet. She sat there for a moment, eyes fixed upon her unshod feet. 'Thank you.'

'For what?'

Her smile was little more than a taut twist of her lips. 'For saving me.'

'Oh, that.' What else would she be thanking you for? 'Think nothing of it.'

Mai offered no further comment, although her face softened with what was presumably relief.

He sat on the makeshift bed closest to her. 'How are you feeling?'

Those large blue eyes met his. 'I've been worse. I think. It seems to fade more quickly now.'

Mat had barely opened his mouth to ask exactly what was fading more quickly when the girl hurried on. 'This seems to be in danger of becoming a regular occurrence. I mean, these sudden meetings about my behaviour.'

'I could get someone else instead if you like?' He smiled at her sudden flush of alarm. 'I'm just teasing you, Mai.'

'It's just that I don't want everyone here knowing about me. It's bad enough having one person think you're crazy.'

'I don't think that.'

Mai's expression was openly disbelieving.

'Oh, you have your moments,' he went on. 'But crazy? Not quite.'

They lapsed into silence and, to his alarm, Mat realised that he could not think of a thing to say. Apparently, neither could the girl. By the way Mai was shifting on her pallet he guessed that she was feeling the discomfort of the silence also. The whole situation was horribly unfamiliar. What under the Light was he supposed to do? Bombard her with questions or wait until she decided to grace him with an explanation? Mai was nibbling upon a damp tail of hair, eyes resolutely downcast. There was only one thing for it; he would have to ask her something. The silence was stifling. He drilled a quiet tattoo on the dry ground with his boot-heel as he willed a suitable question into his mind.

So, Mai, when did you first discover you could scream like that?

That wouldn't sound right. Best not to be too light-hearted.

It's very hot today, wouldn't you say? Uncommonly hot, even.

What good would that be? It had been too bloody hot for the past week or so, and that would hardly help steer the conversation in the right direction.

Perhaps he needed to ask her something less specific. He was about to enquire whether she cared for dancing – which would be a perfectly acceptable question under the circumstances - all women liked dancing, didn't they? – when Per, hands clutched around a small bowl, made a hesitant entrance. Mat could have hugged him.

'Per! Come in.' Leaping to his feet, Mat grasped the bowl of steaming wine and held it appreciatively under his nose. 'Smells wonderful.'

His hands now relieved of any distraction, Per took once more to wringing them. 'My pleasure, My Lord.' He glanced at Mai then just as quickly skittered his gaze away. 'Will the lady be requiring anything else?'

They both looked to the girl. She responded with a near imperceptible shake of her head.

Mat cleared his throat. 'I suppose that will be all for the moment.'

The man gave a grateful smile and quickly backed away, managing a deft bow at precisely the right moment to duck him out of the door.

Mat allowed himself a moment to appreciate that neat manoeuvre before reluctantly turning his attention once more to the girl. Per hadn't provided much of a diversion. Why hadn't he taken her to Cal? Mat could admit that he himself had never been much of a listener; his mother always harped about how he couldn't sit still enough to bolt down his food, much less hold a decent conversation. It wasn't his fault he felt uncomfortable when people started blathering about consequence and responsibility and feelings and such. If those who knew could see him now...Mat Cauthon, the sympathetic listener. Nynaeve would have an apoplexy.

Mai was staring at him. He hitched his slipping smile to a suitably cheery position. His cheeks were beginning to ache. Now she was moving, arms extending towards him. What under the Light was she doing? Mat stared at her outstretched hands as though they were serpents poised for strike before realising what it was she wanted. He thrust the small bowl at her, cursing as hot wine slopped around its low sides. Incredibly none of the stuff managed to escape and scald the girl now accepting the offering with a wry smile.

'I don't bite, Mat.'

She thought he was afraid? It was closer to the truth than he would admit, of course. He would rather face a roomful of Fades than a woman with something on her mind.

Bloody women. Bloody women and their bloody secrets.

He froze in the act of lowering himself back onto the pallet at her next words.

'Do you dream?

Mat slumped the rest of the way onto the bed. 'Of course. Doesn't everybody?' It was not the strangeness of the question that unnerved him but the cool manner in which she spoke. The girl had composed herself remarkably, a contrast to the cowering thing he had all but carried to the infirmary.

Mai was smiling at his careful response, but the expression held that same fixed quality. 'Everybody? What an amazing thing. But you speak of it so lightly. Everybody dreams...' Her voice was soft, as though she had learned something wondrous.

Mat continued to watch her, saw her hands clasp the cup so tightly its warmth reddened her slender fingers. Her next words were thick with bitterness.

'I have read of people that know of dreams, write of them as though they are nothing more than whimsies,' she scorned. 'I envy them.' She stared at him then, eyes piercing in their intensity. 'Mat, have you ever had a dream that was so strong, so real, you felt sure it would break you?'

Images flashed before he could stop them; cold stone walls; a crude figure clasping a tiny dagger capped with a crimson gem; a rage of flame and shadow; a fiery maw; and then the searing pain...

'No.' It was not a lie, exactly. It had been some time since that particular darkness had seared his dreams, and the chill aftermath had usually been eased with a bottle or two of good red. He winced, stretching his cramped legs. 'Mai, I brought you here to talk about what happened. What is this about?' So what if he sounded almost snippy - the girl had managed to dredge a memory he'd rather forget and, irritatingly, it was one of his own.

She held the cup close to her lips as though to drown her words. 'I have bad dreams. Every time I sleep, I have them. I see...things, men and women and children. People I have no memory of. They hurt me. That last one, he tried to drown me in the bathing tub.' A cold smile touched her lips, the dark reflection of wine staining them crimson. 'I think they hate me.'

Mat all but gaped. All of this secrecy, this strange behaviour, all because of some dreams?

'Mai, these dreams cannot hurt you.' His voice was gentle and deliberate, as though he were explaining away the foolish imaginings of a child. All right, the words weren't strictly true, but Mat was sure there was no real menace in her nightmares. How could there be? She was just a village girl, empty of threat and importance.

'Is that what you think?' A bitter laugh. 'Tell me, Mat, what would have happened if I hadn't managed to scream?'

'But you did.'

'But what if next time I don't?' There was a sibilance in her voice, an angry hiss to her own threat. 'They are getting stronger. Once, I could wake and only half-remember. Now...' Her eyes squeezed shut before quickly flying open again, as though frightened of what they saw in the darkness. 'Now I feel I will not wake at all.' The girl took a deep drink of wine, flinched. 'They are going to kill me, I know it.'

'Mai, there is not 'they'. These people aren't real.'

'And you think I haven't already told myself this? You think I haven't scorned myself for being afraid of my own mind?' Her shoulders slumped as the anger dimmed. 'I am not a fool, Mat. I may be mad, but I am not a fool.'

'You are not mad. There must be a reason why you are having these dreams.' He tugged his ear, considering. 'Has anything happened to start them off? Do you have remember anything, you know, bad happening to you?' He felt uncomfortable asking such a personal question, the sort that usually led to weeping in women.

Thankfully, his fears were unfounded. The girl actually gave a smile, albeit it a rather sour one.

'That would lead to my second problem. I don't remember.'

'You don't remember what?'

'Anything,' she snapped. 'I simply don't remember.'

Her admission startled him into silence.

Sa souvraya niende misain ye...*

'What do you remember?' he asked finally, feeling more uncomfortable than the situation could account for.

'Useless things. Arriving in Laybridge with Nath, living in that house, the dreams, these things are clear. Before that, very little. Sometimes I glimpse things at the edges of my mind, as though they are just out of reach. A woman, smiling and speaking without words. A man. Screams. These things I remember, worthless as they are.

'What about Nath. Surely he could tell you something—'

'He never spoke of anything before our arrival at Laybridge. He never spoke of anything, really. What I do know is that he dislikes me a great deal. He might even hate me, even though he never let me from his sight.'

Mat watched her sweep her hair from her face with a pale hand. 'Did he know about the dreams?'

'I never told him. We barely spoke. If he noticed, he never asked. I suppose he must have suspected the reason for the disappearing Stayroot, but he never mentioned it.'

'Stayroot?'

Mai reached into her cloak and produced the small glass container he had seen once before. She raised the phial to a shaft of sunlight. 'As you can see, the situation is becoming a little desperate.'

Mat stared at the phial; barely a few drops remained. The girl tucked the glass bottle away in some hidden part of her cloak before resting her placid gaze upon him once more.

'What will happen when there is none left?'

He saw that her hands were shaking as she grasped the bowl of wine. 'The tincture is not commonly prescribed. Most people in Laybridge drank themselves into a stupor, so I suppose constant tiredness would not be something that they would seek remedy for. And the ingredients are expensive. I doubt very much that Nath would have even bothered to barter for the herbs to make a new batch. It would not be worth the effort.' She caught her lip between her teeth, as though this notion had only just occurred to her.

Mat saw that she had resumed her shivering and reached a hand to guide the wine to her lips. 'Here now, drink while it's warm.'

The girl gazed at him over the cup, her eyes fearful. She swallowed the wine with difficulty and he realised that she was fighting tears.

'Well, I've said it,' she said in a bright voice that cracked at the end. 'I've told somebody I'm crazy.'

The inevitable tears welled. Mat steadied himself for what promised to be a fierce crying storm - maybe a few strategic words could lessen the rain...

'Like I said, I don't think you're crazy. Lots of people lose their memories.'

Her shoulders were hitching now. Mat searched for a way to stop her winding into hysterics while simultaneously fighting the urge to flee.

'Well, not lots exactly. But it does happen. Look, there must be a reason for these dreams, perhaps it's your mind's way of trying to...leak something out.'

'Really,' she snorted mid-sob. 'You think that the dreams are trying to help me by...by...by...' And here a loud sniff. '...frightening me to death.'

He gave an uneasy shrug. 'I don't know. But you're not the first.'

Her eyebrows arched in frank disbelief.

'It's true.' Oh he was digging himself a hole now, all right. 'It even happened to me. Once.' There. He'd said it. And she was still bloody weeping.

Mai's wet eyes were wide with genuine shock 'Really. You had dreams like mine?'

'No. But I did lose memories. A whole bunch of them actually. Just flew right out of there,' he finished, fluttering a hand skyward.

'Why?'

'One of those things, I suppose.' He'd spouted enough already, and he'd be blighted before spilling everything about that bloody debacle. 'But they came back. Well, mostly.' No point getting the girl too hopeful.

'How?' To his chagrin, he saw that her eyes were round and eager, her cheeks suddenly flushed. 'What did you do?'

Oh, I wandered into a dead city with the Dragon bloody Reborn - who, by the way, actually is mad - baked in the blasted heat, was stupid enough to chase some cheating son-of-goats who decided it might be fun to hang me, and all I got was a headful of dead men's memories...

'They just sort of...came back. Like I said, not all of them, but enough to get by.' He rubbed at his throat. The lies sat almost as heavily as that bloody noose, but there was no way he was setting the girl on a path to Rhuidean. There was only so much his conscience could take.

Mat took a long swallow of wine to show he was done talking on the subject. To his relief the girl seemed to have recovered at least a little of her customary composure, although her eyes were still glossy.

'So it is truly useless, then. Nothing is going to help me remember.' She took the bowl from him mid-sip and drained it dry.

Mat blinked. 'Perhaps its best if you don't drink that too quickly.'

'What?'

'The wine.'

'Oh. But it really is very soothing.' She gave the empty cup a wistful look.

Mat shifted to reach the wineskin at his belt. 'For emergencies,' he drawled.

Mai eyed him suspiciously. 'There seems to be an awful lot of wine in this camp. Have your men never heard of water?'

'Dreadful waste.' He grinned. 'What would we bathe in?'

'It seems to me not a lot of bathing goes on either.'

Mat's sip was foiled by a smile. 'I thought we were here to discuss you, not the bathing habits of my men.'

She murmured thanks as he handed her the wineskin. 'Very well. This wine is pleasant, though.'

'Should be - it cost enough.' It had also loosened her up a bit; time to broach new territory. 'I was wondering, Mai, whether I should pay Nath a visit.'

He was expecting her to rail against the suggestion, perhaps work herself into a panic at the very thought. He was therefore surprised by the smile that thinned her lips. 'It would be interesting,' she mused. 'Although he didn't seem too pleased last time. I don't think he likes you very well.'

Mat gave a loud snort. 'I should think not. We didn't part on very good terms.'

'And there's the small matter of you stealing his Healer.'

''Stealing'? You practically followed us here!'

But her gaze had now fixed themselves at the neck of his shirt. 'What is that?' she breathed.

'This?' The foxhead talisman was cool, but thankfully not cold, against his fingers. 'Just a little something I picked up. Comes in useful every now and then.'

'It must do - I've never seen you without it.' She peered closer at the silvery foxhead, its divided eye seemed to defy the dim light and glinted brightly. 'I like it,' she declared, and was that a hint of a slur? 'Looks as thought it might...keep you safe somehow.' Her sudden flush was plain. 'I'm sorry, I must sound like I have wool for brains.'

Mat smoothed his fingers over the silver ter'angreal. An idea was just beginning to take shape... 'Mai, I think it would be a good idea for you to sleep.'

He noticed her stunned gaze was a little unfocused. 'After what happened earlier? Haven't you been listening?'

'Nothing will harm you. You have my word on that.'

'No.' Mai grasped at her cloak in what was becoming a habitual gesture. 'I won't.'

'If I am here then I can wake you if things get serious.'

'You? Here? While I sleep? Absolutely not! It wouldn't be decent.'

'You worry about a little thing like decency at a time like this?' He shifted, leaned closer to her. 'You've have told me things you wouldn't have dreamed - thought - of saying a few days back. You're brave enough.'

Suspicion clouded her outrage. 'Why? Why help me after all you've done already?'

He groped for a reason she wouldn't be able to twist into an accusation. 'I've nothing better to do - it's either help you or sit around watching Estean lose at cards.' It was partly the truth. He was bored, after all.

He almost squirmed under her scrutiny - what happened to the girl who barely showed her face a few days ago? Her keen eyes searched for a glimmer of ulterior motive. Mat gave her his best grin, one that had gotten him back in favour many a time.

'Look, just try. I'll be here, and if you do have another of those dreams then you can have some of that bloody Stickroot—'

'Stayroot.'

'All right, bloody Stayroot to keep you awake until we find a way to stop this.'

'I won't do it. It's too dangerous.'

'How can you know that if you don't even try?'

Her pale hands fluttered upwards, as though considering flattening over her ears. 'Stop bullying me.'

'Stop being so unreasonable.'

'Oh, blood and bloody ashes! All right. There, happy now?'

He almost laughed at her clumsy attempt at cursing. The words had the opposite effect of making her seem even younger and less certain than usual. 'Not really. Now I have to watch someone sleep. And I thought I was bored before...'

Mai shook her head. 'How do you do it?'

'Do what? Annoy you?

'No.' Her voice was soft now, thoughtful. 'Make me feel like a normal person.'

Mat shifted slightly on his makeshift seat. 'Because you are. More normal than most, even. Trust me, I've met some strange characters.'

'I can believe that.' Her smile was broad and utterly genuine; witnessing it for the first time was like seeing sunlight burst through stormclouds.

Mat abruptly snatched back the wineskin. 'Well, are you going to sleep or not? I want to find my way to the cook fire sometime before dark.'

The smile faded, bringing a curiously unpleasant sensation of relief and disappointment.

He watched as Mai positioned herself so she was lying on her back. 'Promise you'll wake me?'

'Promise,' he murmured.

He knew the pallor of fear; the girl looked white as a recruit entering his first fray. A strange idea occurred to him. Before he could question it, he tugged the ter'angreal over his head, wincing as it snagged at his hair.

'Here,' he thrust the foxhead at her. 'You said it looked like it can keep someone safe.'

Mai hesitated before reaching up for the medallion and Mat fought a spiteful urge to snatch it back. He felt strangely exposed.

The girl wound the black cord about her wrist; the foxhead she clenched in her palm. 'Thank you.' A smile, a shadow of the one before it, touched her white lips. 'I suppose you are getting tired of hearing that.'

'A little.' His attention wandered to what was clasped in her hand, and Mat once more found himself stifling the nagging feeling that he had acted on a decidedly unwise impulse. 'Now, sleep.'

With a small sigh, Mai did.

*I am lost in my own mind.