Page 103 of The Gathering Storm (The Wheel of Time 12)

Joline just sniffed, then trotted her horse back down the ranks, obviously turning down the chance to go alone. Pity, that. It would have made him smile each step of the way to think of it. Though, it probably would have taken Joline all of three days to find some sap in a village somewhere to give her his horses so that her crew could ride faster.

Edesina rode away, and Teslyn trailed after, regarding Mat with a curious expression. She still looked disappointed in him too. He glanced away, then felt annoyed at himself. What did he care what she thought?

Talmanes was looking at him. “That was odd of you, Mat,” the man said.

“What?” Mat said. “The restriction on the men? They’re a good lot, the Band, but I’ve never known a group of soldiers who weren’t likely to get themselves in a little trouble now and then, particularly where there’s ale to be found.”

“I wasn’t talking about the men, Mat,” Talmanes said, bending to tap out his pipe against his stirrup, dottle falling to flutter back onto the stony roadway beside his horse. “I’m talking about how you treated the Aes Sedai. Light, Mat, we could have been rid of them! I’d count twenty-four horses and some coin a bargain to be free of two Aes Sedai.”

“I won’t be shoved around,” Mat said stubbornly, waving for the Band to begin its march again. “Not even to get rid of Joline. If she wants something from me, let her ask with a grain of politeness, rather than trying to bully me into giving her whatever she wants. I’m no lap dog.” Burn it, he wasn’t! And he wasn’t husbandly either, whatever that meant.

“You really do miss her,” Talmanes said, sounding a little surprised as their horses fell into pace beside one a

nother.

“What are you blathering about now?”

“Mat, you are not always the most refined of men, I’ll admit. Sometimes your humor is indeed a bit ripe and your tone on the brusque side. But you are rarely downright rude, nor intentionally insulting. You really are on edge, aren’t you?”

Mat said nothing, just pulled the brim of his hat down again.

“I’m sure that she will be fine, Mat,” Talmanes said, tone gentler. “She is royalty. They know how to take care of themselves. And she’s got those soldiers watching after her. Not to mention Ogier. Ogier warriors! Who would think of such a thing? She’ll be all right.”

“We’re done with this conversation,” Mat said, shifting his spear to hold it upright, curved blade toward the unseen sun above, butt in the lancer’s strap at the side of his saddle.

“I just—”

“Over,” Mat said. “You don’t have any more of that tabac, do you?”

Talmanes sighed. “It was the last pinch. Good tabac—Two Rivers grown. The only pouch of it I’ve seen in some time. It was a gift from King Roedran, along with the pipe.”

“He must have valued you.”

“It was good, honest work,” Talmanes said. “And terribly boring. Not like riding with you, Mat. It’s good to have you back, crust and all. But your talk of feed with the Aes Sedai does have me worried.”

Mat nodded. “How are we on rations?”

“Low,” Talmanes said.

“We’ll buy what we can at the village,” Mat said. “We’ve got coin coming out our ears, after what Roedran gave you.”

A small village wasn’t likely to have enough to supply the whole army. But, according to the maps, they’d soon be entering more populated lands. You’d pass a village or two every day in those areas, traveling with a quick force like the Band. To stay afloat, you scavenged and bought whatever little bit you could at each village you passed. A wagonload here, a cartful there, a bucket or two of apples from a passing farmstead. Seven thousand men was a lot to feed, but a good commander knew not to turn down even a handful of grain. It added up.

“Yes, but will the villagers sell?” Talmanes asked. “On our way down to meet you, we had a savage time getting anyone to sell us food. Seems there isn’t much to be found these days. Food is getting scarce, no matter where you go and no matter how much money you have.”

Bloody perfect. Mat ground his teeth, then grew annoyed at himself for doing so. Well, maybe he was a little on edge. Not because of Tuon, though.

Either way, he needed to relax. And that village ahead—what had Vanin called it? Hinderstap? “How much coin do you have on you?”

Talmanes frowned. “Couple of gold marks, pouch full of silver crowns. Why?”

“Not enough,” Mat said, rubbing his chin. “We’ll have to dig some more out of my personal chest first. Maybe bring the whole thing.” He turned Pips around. “Come on.”

“Wait, Mat,” Talmanes said, reining in and following. “What are we doing?”

“You’re going to kindly take me up on my offer to go enjoy ourselves at the tavern,” Mat said. “And while we’re at it, we’re going to resupply. If my luck’s with me, we’ll do it for free.”

If Egwene or Nynaeve had been there, they’d have boxed his ears and told him he was going to do no such thing. Tuon probably would have looked at him curiously and then said something that made him feel his shame right down into his boots.