Mat nodded.

"And," Thom added, "I'll see if I can dig up hints for the incursion."

The Tower of Ghenjei. Mat shrugged. "We're more likely to find what we need in Four Kings or Caemlyn."

"Yes, I know. But Olver made me promise to check. If you hadn't set Noal to keeping the boy distracted, I'd expect to open our saddlebags and find him in there. He really wanted to come."

"A night dancing and gambling is no place for a boy," Mat muttered. "I just wish I could trust the men back at camp not to corrupt him worse than a tavern would."

"Well, he stayed back quietly enough once Noal got out the board." Olver was convinced that if he played Snakes and Foxes enough, he'd pick out some secret strategy for defeating the Aelfinn and Eelfinn. "The lad still thinks he's coming with us into the tower," Thorn said more quietly. "He knows he can't be one of the three, but he plans to wait outside for us. Maybe burst in to save us if we don't come back soon enough. I don't want to be there when he discovers the truth."

"I don't intend to be there myself," Mat said. Ahead, the trees broke wide into a small valley with green pastures rising high along the hills to the sides. A town of several hundred buildings was nestled between the slopes, a mountain stream running down the middle. The houses were of a deep gray stone, each with a prominent chimney, most of which curled with smoke. The roofs were sloped to deal with what were probably very snowy winters, though the only white still visible now was on distant peaks. Workers were already busy on several of the roofs replacing winter-damaged shingles, and goats and sheep grazed the hillsides, watched over by shepherd boys.

There were a few hours of light remaining, and other men worked on shopfronts and fences. Others strolled through the streets of the village, no urgency in their gait. Overall, the little town had a relaxing air of mixed industry and laziness.

Mat pulled up beside Talmanes and the soldiers. "That's a nice sight," Talmanes noted. "I was beginning to think every town in the world was either falling apart, packed with refugees or under the thumb of invaders. At least this one doesn't seem likely to vanish on us ..."

"Light send it so," Mat said, shivering, thinking of the town in Al-tara that had vanished. "Anyway, let's hope they don't mind dealing with a few strangers." He eyed the soldiers; all five were Redarms, among the best he had. "Three of you five, go with the Aes Sedai. I suspect that they'll want to stay at a different inn from myself. We'll meet up in the morning."

The soldiers saluted, and Joline sniffed as she passed on her horse, pointedly not looking at Mat. She and the others headed down the incline in a little cluster, three of Mat's soldiers following.

"That looks like an inn there," Thorn said, pointing toward a larger building on the eastern side of the village. "You'll find me there." He waved, then kicked his mount into a trot and rode on ahead, gleeman's cloak streaming. Arriving first would give him the best chance at a dramatic entrance.

Mat glanced at Talmanes, who shrugged. The two of them made their way down the slope with two soldiers as an escort. Because of the bend in the road, they were approaching from the southwest. To the northeast of the village, the ancient roadway continued. It looked strange to have such a large road leading past a village like this, even if that road was old and broken. Master Roidelle claimed that it would lead them straight up into Andor. It was too uneven to be used as a major highway, and the direction it led no longer passed major cities, so it had been forgotten. Mat blessed their luck in finding it, though. The main passages into Murandy had been crowded with Seanchan.

According to Roidelle's maps, Hinderstap specialized in producing goat's cheese and mutton for the various towns and manor lands in the region. The villagers should be used to outsiders. Indeed, several boys came running from the fields the moment they spotted Thorn and his gleeman's cloak. He'd make a stir, but a familiar one. The Aes Sedai, though, would be memorable.

Ah, well, he thought as he and Talmanes rode down the grass-lined road. He would retain his good humor; this time, he would not let the Aes Sedai ruin it.

By the time Mat and Talmanes reached the village, Thorn had already gathered a small crowd. He stood upright on his saddle and juggled three colored balls in his right hand while talking of his travels in the south. The villagers here wore vests and green cloaks of a deep, velvety cloth. They looked warm, though upon closer inspection, Mat noticed that many of them—cloaks, vests and trousers—had been torn, and carefully mended.

Another group of people, mostly women, had gathered around the Aes Sedai. Good; Mat had half-expected the villagers to be frightened. One of those standing at the side of Thorn's group eyed Mat and Talmanes appraisingly. He was a sturdy fellow, with thick arms and linen sleeves that were rolled to the elbows despite the chill spring air. His arms curled with dark hair that matched his beard and the locks on his head.

"You have the look of a lord about you," the man said, approaching Mat.

"He's a pr—" Talmanes began before Mat cut him off hastily.

"I suppose I do at that," Mat said, keeping an eye on Talmanes.

"I'm Barlden, the mayor here," the man said, folding his arms. "You're welcome to come and trade. Be aware that we don't have much to spare."

"Surely you at least have some cheese," Talmanes said. "That's what you produce, isn't it?"

"All that hasn't molded or spoiled is needed for our custom," mayor Barlden said. "That's just the way of things, these days." He hesitated. "But if you have cloth or clothing you'll trade, we might be able to scrape something up to feed you for the day."

Feed us for a day? Mat thought. All eleven of us? He'd need to bring a wagonload back at least, not to mention the ale he'd promised his men.

"You still need to hear about the curfew. Trade, warm yourselves by the hearths for a time, but know that all outsiders must be out of the town by nightfall."

Mat glanced up at the cloud-covered sky. "But that's barely three hours away!"

"Those are our rules," Barlden said curtly.

"It's ridiculous," Joline said, turning away from the village women. She nudged her horse a little closer to Mat and Talmanes, her Warders— as always—shadowing her. "Master Barlden, we cannot agree to this foolish prohibition. I understand your hesitation during these dangerous times, but surely you can see that your rules should not apply here."

The man kept his arms folded and said nothing.

Joline pursed her lips, rearranging her hands on her reins so that her great serpent ring was prominently visible. "Does the symbol of the White Tower mean so little these days?"

"We respect the White Tower." Barlden looked at Mat. He was wise. Meeting the gaze of an Aes Sedai tended to make one's resolve weaken. "But our rules are strict, my Lady. I'm sorry."

Joline sniffed. "I suspect that your innkeepers are less than satisfied with this requirement. How are they to make ends meet if they can't rent rooms to travelers?"

"The inns are compensated," the mayor said gruffly. "Three hours. Do your business and be on your way. We mean to be friendly to all who pass our way, but we can't see our rules broken." With that, he turned and left. As he walked away, he was joined by a small group of burly men, several carrying axes. Not threateningly. Casually, as if they'd been out chopping wood, and just happened to be walking through town. Together. In the same direction as the mayor.

"I should say this is quite the welcome," Talmanes muttered.

Mat nodded. At that moment, the dice started rattling in his head. Burn it! He decided to ignore them. They were never any help anyway. "Let's go find a tavern," he said, heeling Pips forward.