Selene shook her head as if she had heard his thoughts. "You are more important than you yet know. Certainly more important than these so-called Aes Sedai know. You can have glory, if you know enough not to trust them."

"You certainly sound as if you don't trust them." So-called? A thought came to him, but he could not manage to say it. "Are you a...? Are you...?" It was not the kind of thing you accused someone of.

"A Darkfriend?" Selene said mockingly. She sounded amused, not angered. She sounded contemptuous. "One of those pathetic followers of Ba'alzamon who think he will give them immortality and power? I follow no one. There is one man I could stand beside, but I do not follow."

Mat laughed nervously. "Of course not." Blood and ashes, a Darkfriend wouldn't name herself Darkfriend, Probably has a poisoned knife, if she is. He had a vague memory of a woman dressed as one nobly born, a Darkfriend with a deadly dagger in her slender hand. "That wasn't what I meant at all. You look... You look like a queen. That's what I meant. Are you a Lady?"

"Mat, Mat, you must learn to trust me. Oh, I will use you, too – you have too suspicious a nature, especially since carrying that dagger, for me to deny it – but my use will gain you wealth, and power, and glory. I will not compel you. I have always believed men perform better if convinced rather than forced. These Aes Sedai do not even realize how important you are, and he will try to dissuade or kill you, but I can give you what you desire."

"He?" Mat said sharply. Kill me? Light, it's Rand they were after, not me. How does she know about the dagger? I suppose the whole Tower knows. "Who wants to kill me?"

Selene's mouth tightened as if she had said too much. "You know what you want, Mat, and I know it every bit as well as you. You must choose who you will trust to gain it for you. I admit I will use you. These Aes Sedai will never do that. I will lead you to wealth and glory. They will keep you tied to a leash until you die."

"You say a lot," Mat said, "but how do I know any of it is true? How do I know I can trust you any more than I can them?"

"By listening to what they tell you, and what they do not. Will they tell you your father came to Tar Valon?"

"My da was here?"

"A man named Abell Cauthon, and another named Tam al'Thor. They made nuisances of themselves until they gained an audience, I have heard, wanting to know where you and your friends were. And Siuan Sanche sent them back to the Two Rivers with empty hands, not even letting them know you were alive. Will they tell you that, unless you ask? Perhaps not even then, for you might try to run away back home."

"My da thinks I am dead?" Mat said slowly.

"He can be told you live. I can see to it. Think on who to trust, Mat Cauthon. Will they tell you that even now Rand al'Thor is trying to escape, and the one called Moiraine is hunting him? Will they tell you that the Black Ajah infests their precious White Tower? Will they even tell you how they mean to use you?"

"Rand is trying to escape? But – " Maybe she knew Rand had proclaimed himself the Dragon Reborn, and maybe she did not, but he would not tell her. The Black Ajah! Blood and bloody ashes! "Who are you, Selene? If you're not Aes Sedai, what are you?"

Her smile hid secrets. "Just remember that there is another choice. You need not be a puppet for the White Tower or prey for Ba'alzamon's Darkfriends. The world is more complex than you can imagine. Do as these Aes Sedai wish for the present, but remember your choices. Will you do that?"

"I don't see that I have much choice at all," he said glumly. "I suppose I will."

Selene's look sharpened. Friendliness sloughed off her voice like an old snakeskin. "Suppose? I did not come to you like this, talk in this way, for suppose, Matrim Cauthon." She stretched out a slim hand.

Her hand was empty, and she stood halfway across the room, but he leaned back, away from her hand, as if she were right on top of him with a dagger. He did not know why, really, except that there was a threat in her eyes, and he was sure it was real. His skin began to tingle, and his headache returned.

Suddenly tingle and pain vanished together, and Selene's head whipped around as if listening to something beyond the walls. A tiny frown appeared on her face, and she lowered her hand. The frown vanished. "We will talk again, Mat. I have much to say to you. Remember your choices. Remember that there are many hands that would kill you. I alone guarantee you life, and all you seek, if you do as I say." She slipped out of the door as silently and gracefully as she had entered.

Mat let out a long breath. Sweat ran down his face. Who in the Light is she? A Darkfriend, perhaps. Except that she had sounded as contemptuous of Ba'alzamon as she was of Aes Sedai. Darkfriends spoke of Ba'alzamon the way anyone else might speak of the Creator. And she had not asked him to conceal her visit from the Aes Sedai.

Right, he thought sourly. Pardon me, Aes Sedai, but this woman came to see me. She wasn't Aes Sedai, but I think maybe she started to use the One Power on me, and she said she wasn't a Darkfriend, but she did say you mean to use me, and the Black Ajah's in your Tower. Oh, and she said I'm important. I don't know how. You don't mind if I leave now, do you?

Going was beginning to be a better idea by the minute. He slid awkwardly off the bed and made his way unsteadily to the wardrobe, still clutching his blanket around him. His boots were on the floor inside, and his cloak hung from a peg, under his belt, with pouch and sheathed belt knife. It was just a country knife, with a stout blade, but it could do as much as any fine dagger. The rest of his clothes – two sturdy wool coats, three pairs of breeches, half a dozen linen shirts and smallclothes – had been brushed or washed as required, and neatly folded on the shelves that took up one side of the wardrobe. He felt the pouch hanging from the belt, but it was empty. Its contents lay jumbled on a shelf with what had been emptied from his pockets.

He brushed aside a redhawk's feather, a smooth, striped rock he had liked the colors of, his razor, and his bone-handled pocketknife, and freed his wash-leather purse from some coils of spare bowstring. When he tugged it open, he found his memory had been all too good in this instance.

"Two silver marks and a handful of copper," he muttered. "I won't get far on that." Once it would have seemed a small fortune to him, but that had been before he left Emond's Field.

He stooped to peer back into the shelf. Where are they? He began to be afraid the Aes Sedai might have thrown them out, the way his mother would if she had ever found them. Where...? He felt a surge of relief. Way in the back, behind his tinderbox and ball of twine for snares and the like, were his two leather dice cups.

They rattled as he pulled them out, but he still popped off the tight fitting round caps. Everything was as it should be. Five dice carved with symbols, for crowns, and five marked with spots. The spotted dice would do for a number of games, but more men seemed to play crowns than anything else. With these, his two marks would become enough to take him far away from Tar Valon. Away from Aes Sedai and Selene, both.

A peremptory knock was followed immediately by the door opening. He whirled around. The Amyrlin Seat and the Keeper of the Chronicles were entering. He would have recognized them even without the Amyrlin's broad, striped stole, and the Keeper's narrower blue stole. He had seen them once and only once, a long way from Tar Valon, but he could not forget the two most powerful women among the Aes Sedai.

The Amyrlin's eyebrows rose at the sight of him standing there with the blanket hanging from his shoulders and his purse and dice cups in his hands. "I don't think you will need those for a while yet, my son," she said dryly. "Put them up and get back to bed before you fall on your face."