Towers of Midnight (The Wheel of Time 13)

Setalle gave him a chiding stare. "Joline Sedai respects you, Master Cauthon. She often spoke highly of you, and the way that you rescued not only her, but the other two. She asked after you in the letter."

Mat blinked. "Really? She said things like that?"

Setalle nodded.

"Burn me," he said. "Almost makes me feel bad for painting her mouth blue. But you wouldn't have known she thought that way, considering how she treated me."

"Speaking such things to a man inflates his opinion of himself. One would think that the way she treated you would have been enough."

"She's Aes Sedai," Mat muttered. "She treats everyone like they're mud to be scraped off her boots."

Setalle glared at him. She had a stately way about her, part grandmother, part court lady, part no-nonsense innkeeper.

"Sorry," he said. "Some Aes Sedai aren't as bad as others. I didn't mean to insult you."

"I'll take that for a compliment," Setalle said. "Though I'm not Aes Sedai."

Mat shrugged, finding a nice small rock at his feet. He used it to replace his boot atop the stack of paper. The rains of the last few days had passed, leaving a crisp freshness to the air. "I know you said it didn't hurt," Mat said. "But . . . what does it feel like? The thing you lost?"

She pursed her lips. "What is the most delightful food you enjoy, Master Cauthon? The one thing that you would eat above all others?"

"Ma's sweet pies," Mat said immediately.

"Well, it is like that," Setalle said. "Knowing that you used to be able to enjoy those pies every day, but now they have been denied you. Your friends, they can have as many of those pies as they want. You envy them, and you hurt, but at the same time you're happy. At least someone can enjoy what you cannot."

Mat nodded slowly.

"Why is it that you hate Aes Sedai so, Master Cauthon?" Setalle asked.

"I don't hate them," Mat said. "Burn me, but I don't. But sometimes, a man can't seem to do two things without women wanting him to do one of those things a different way and ignore the other one completely."

"You aren't forced to take their advice, and I warrant that much of the time, you eventually admit it is good advice."

Mat shrugged. "Sometimes, a man just likes to do

what he wants, without someone telling him what's wrong with it and what's wrong with him. That's all."

"And it has nothing to do with your . . . peculiar views of nobles? Most Aes Sedai act as if they were noblewomen, aftet all."

"I have nothing against nobles," Mat said, straightening his coat. "I just don't fancy being one myself."

"Why is that, then?"

Mat sat for a moment. Why was it? Finally, he looked down at his foot, then replaced his boot. "It's boots."

"Boots?" Setalle looked confused.

"Boots," Mat said with a nod, tying his laces. "It's all about the boots."

"But "

"You see," Mat said, pulling the laces tight, "a lot of men don't have to worry much about what boots to weat. They're the poorest of folks. If you ask one of them 'What boots are you going to wear today, Mop?' their answer is easy. 'Well, Mat. I only have one pair, so I guess I'm gonna wear that pair.' "

Mat hesitated. "Or, I guess they wouldn't say that to you, Setalle, since you're not me and all. They wouldn't call you Mat, you understand."

"I understand," she said, sounding amused.

"Anyway, for people that have a little coin, the question of which boots to wear is harder. You see, average men, men like me. . . ." He eyed her. "And I'm an average man, mind you."