—Mat
p.s. Salutation means greeting.
p.p.s. Don’t mind the scratched out words and bad spellings. I was going to rewrite this letter, but Thom is laffing so hard at me that I want to be done.
p.p.s. Don’t mind me calling your backside pretty. I hardly ever spent any time looking at it, as I’ve an awareness that you’d pull my eyes out if you saw me. Besides, I’m married now, so that all doesn’t matter.
Elayne couldn’t decide whether to be outraged or exuberant. Mat was in Andor, and Thom was alive! They’d escaped Ebou Dar. Had they found Olver? How had they gotten away from the Seanchan?
So many emotions and questions welled up in her. Birgitte stood upright, frowning, feeling the emotions. “Elayne? What is it? Did the man insult you?”
Elayne found herself nodding, tears forming in her eyes.
Birgitte cursed, striding over. Master Norry looked taken aback, as if regretting that he’d brought the letter.
Elayne burst into laughter.
Birgitte froze. “Elayne?”
“I’m all right,” Elayne said, wiping the tears from her eyes and forcing herself to take a deep breath. “Oh, Light. I needed that. Here, read it.”
Birgitte snatched the letter, and as she read, her face lightened. She chuckled. “You have a nice backside? He should be talking. Mat’s got as fine a rump as comes on a man.”
“Birgitte!” Elayne said.
“Well it’s true,” the Warder said, handing back the letter. “I find his face far too pretty, but that doesn’t mean I can’t judge a good backside when I see one. Light, it will be good to have him back! Finally, someone I can go drinking with who doesn’t look at me as their bloody military superior.”
“Contain yourself, Birgitte,” Elayne said, folding the letter up. Norry looked scandalized by the exchange. Dyelin said nothing. It took a lot to faze that woman, and she’d heard worse from Birgitte.
“You did well, Master Norry,” Elayne said. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”
“You do indeed know these mercenaries, then?” he asked, a hint of surprise sounding in his voice.
“They’re not mercenaries. Actually, I’m not certain what they are. Friends. And allies, I should hope.” Why had Mat brought the Band of the Red Hand to Andor? Were they loyal to Rand? Could she make use of them? Mat was a scoundrel, but he had a strangely good eye for tactics and warfare. A soldier under his command would be worth ten of the sell-sword riffraff she’d been forced to hire recently.
“My pardon, Your Majesty, for my mistake,” Norry said. “I should have brought this to you sooner. My informants told me that this group was recently in the employ of the Crown of Murandy, so I discounted their leader’s insistence that he wasn’t a mercenary.”
“You did well, Master Norry,” Elayne said, still feeling amused and insulted. It was odd how often one moved between those two emotions when Matrim Cauthon was involved. “Light knows I’ve been busy enough. But please, if someone claims to know me personally, at least bring it to Birgitte’s attention.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Arrange a meeting with Master Cauthon,” she said, idly wishing she had time to write him back a letter as insulting as the one he’d written her. “Tell him he must bring Thom with him. To…keep him in line.”
“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Norry said with a characteristically stiff bow. “If I may withdraw…”
She nodded in thanks and he left, pulling the door closed. Elayne held Mat’s letter idly between two fingers. Could she use Mat, somehow, to help her with the troubles Ellorien was making? As she’d used the Borderlanders? Or was that too obvious?
“Why did he mention bellfounders, do you think?” Birgitte asked.
“It could be something as simple as needing a new bell to ring the hour for his camp.”
“But you don’t think it’s simple.”
“Mat’s involved,” Elayne said. “He has a way of complicating things, and the way he wrote that line makes it smell like one of his schemes.”
“True. And if he merely wanted a bell, he could win himself enough to buy it after an hour dicing.”
“Come now,” Elayne said. “He’s not that lucky.”
Birgitte snorted into her tea. “You need to pay better attention, Elayne. That man could dice with the Dark One and win.”
Elayne shook her head. Soldiers, Birgitte included, could be such a superstitious lot. “Make certain to have a few extra Guardswomen on duty when Mat comes. He can be exuberant, and I wouldn’t want him to make a scene.”
“Who is this man?” Dyelin asked, sounding confused.
“One of the other two ta’veren who grew up with Rand al’Thor,” Birgitte said, gulping down her tea. She’d given up drinking while Elayne was pregnant. At least someone else had to suffer too.
“Mat is…a particularly dynamic individual,” Elayne said. “He can be very useful when properly harnessed. When he is not—which is most of the time—he can be an outright disaster. But whatever else can be said about the man, he and his Band know how to fight.”
“You’re going to use them, aren’t you?” Birgitte said, eyeing her appreciatively.
“Of course,” Elayne said. “And, from what I remember Mat saying, he has a lot of Cairhienin in the Band. They are native sons. If I arrive with that section of the Band as part of my army, perhaps the transition will be easier.”
“So you really do intend to go through with this?” Dyelin asked. “Taking the Sun Throne? Now?”
“The world needs unity,” Elayne said, standing. “With Cairhien, I begin knitting us all together. Rand already controls Illian and Tear, and has bonds to the Aiel. We’re all connected.”
She glanced to the west, where she could feel that knot of emotions that was Rand. The only thing she ever sensed from him these days was a cold anger, buried deeply. Was he in Arad Doman?
Elayne loved him. But she didn’t intend to see Andor become merely another part of the Dragon’s empire. Besides, if Rand were to die at Shayol Ghul, who would rule that empire? It could break up, but she worried that someone—Darlin, perhaps—would be strong enough to hold it together. If so, Andor would stand alone between an aggressive Seanchan empire to the southwest, Rand’s successor to the northwest and the southeast and the Borderlanders united together in