The Gathering Storm

"An outlander woman in some village north of here is giving them out and offering a reward to anyone who has seen you. The man got the paper from a friend, so he didn't have a description of her or the town's name. Either his friend kept him ignorant, wanting the reward for himself, or he was just too drunk to remember."

Mat tucked the paper into his coat pocket. The light of false dawn was beginning to glow to the east. He'd sat up all night, but he didn't feel tired. Just . . . drained. "I'm going back," he said.

"What?" Thom asked, surprised. "To Hinderstap?"

Mat nodded, rising. "As soon as it's light. I need to—"

A muffled curse interrupted him. He spun, reaching for his asban-darei. Thom had a pair of knives in his hands in the blink of an eye. Fen,

Joline's Saldaean Warder, was the one who had cursed. He stood, hand on his sword, searching the ground around him. Blaeric stood by the Aes Sedai, sword out, alert and on guard.

"What?" Mat asked tersely.

"The prisoners," Fen said.

Mat started, realizing that the lumps that had lain near the Warders were gone. He dashed over, cursing. Talmanes' snores stopped as the sounds woke him and he sat up. The bonds made from strips of Joline's dress lay on the ground, but the serving girls were gone.

"What happened?" Mat asked, looking up.

"I ..." The dark-haired Warder looked dumbfounded. "I have no idea. They were here just a moment ago!"

"Did you doze off?" Mat demanded.

"Fen wouldn't have done such a thing," Joline said, sitting up in her bedroll, her voice calm. She still wore only that dressing robe.

"Lad," Thom said, "we both saw those girls here barely a minute ago."

Talmanes cursed and woke the two Redarms. Delarn was looking a great deal better, his weakness from the Healing barely seeming to bother him as he climbed to his feet. The Warders called for a search, but Mat just turned back to the village below. "The answers are there," Mat said. "Thom, you're with me. Talmanes, watch the women."

"We have little need of being 'watched,' Matrim," Joline said grumpily.

"Fine," he snapped. "Thom, you're with me. Joline, you watch the soldiers. Either way, you all stay here. I can't worry about a whole group right now."

He didn't give them a chance to argue. Within minutes, Mat and Thom were on their horses, riding down the path back toward Hinder-stap.

"Lad," Thom said, "what is it you expect to find?"

"I don't know," Mat replied. "If I did, I wouldn't be so keen to look."

"Fair enough," Thom said softly.

Mat spotted the oddities almost immediately. Those goats out on the western pasture. He couldn't tell for certain in the dawn light, but it looked like someone was herding them. And were those lights winking on in the village? There hadn't been a single one of those all night long! He hastened Pips' pace, Thom following silently.

It took the better part of an hour to arrive—Mat hadn't wanted to risk camping too close, though he'd also been disinclined to hunt a way around and back to the army in the dark. It was fully light, if still very early, by the time they rode back into the inn's yard. A couple of men in dun coats were working on the back door, which had apparently been broken off its hinges sometime after Mat and the others left. The men looked up as Mat and Thorn rode into the yard, and one of them pulled off his cap, looking anxious. Neither one made a threatening move.

Mat slowed Pips to a halt. One of the men whispered to the other, who ran inside. A moment later, a balding man with a white apron stepped out through the doorway. Mat felt himself go pale.

"The innkeeper," Mat said. "Burn me, I saw you dead!"

"Best go get the mayor, son," the innkeeper said to one of the working men. He glanced back at Mat. "Quickly."

"What in the bloody name of Hawkwing's left hand is going on here?" Mat demanded. "Was it all some kind of twisted show? You—"

A head stuck out of the inn door, peeking around the innkeeper toward Mat. The pudgy face had curly blond hair. Last time he'd seen this man, the cook, Mat had been forced to gut the man and slit his throat.

"You!" he said, pointing. "I killedyou!"

"Calm down, now, son," the innkeeper said. "Come in, we'll get you some tea, and—"