The younger of the two women, Saal, stopped Mat as he reached the door. “Whatever you said to him, I forgive you for the wine, even if it is taking him away. I’ve not seen him this alive in weeks.” She pressed something into his hand, and when he glanced at it, his eyes widened in confusion. She had given him a silver Tar Valon mark. “For whatever it was you said. Besides, whoever is feeding you is not doing a good job of it, but you still have pretty eyes.” She laughed at the expression on his face.

Mat was laughing, too, in spite of himself, as he went out into the street, rolling the silver coin across the backs of his fingers. So I have pretty eyes, do I? His laughter shut off like the last drip from a wine barrel: Thom was there, but not the corpse. The windows of the taverns down the street put enough light across the cobblestones for him to be sure of it. The city guard would not have carried a dead man away without asking questions, at those taverns and at The Woman of Tanchico, too.

“What are you staring at, boy?” Thom asked. “No Trollocs in those shadows.”

“Footpads,” Mat muttered. “I was thinking about footpads.”

“No street thieves or strong-arms in Tar Valon, either, boy. When the guards take a footpad—not that many try that game here; the word spreads—but when they do, they haul him to the Tower, and whatever it is the Aes Sedai do to him, the fellow leaves Tar Valon the next day as wide-eyed as a goosed girl. I understand they’re even harder on women caught thieving. No, the only way you’ll have your money stolen here is somebody selling you polished brass for gold or using shaved dice. There are no footpads.”

Mat turned on his heel and strode past Thom, heading toward the docks, quarterstaff thumping off the cobblestones as if he could push himself ahead faster. “We’re going to be on the first ship sailing, whatever it is. The first, Thom.”

Thom’s stick clicked hurriedly after him. “Slow down, boy. What’s your hurry? There are plenty of ships, sailing day and night. Slow down. There aren’t any footpads.”

“The first bloody ship, Thom! If it’s sinking, we’ll be on it!” If they weren’t footpads, what were they? They had to be thieves. What else could they be?

CHAPTER
32

The First Ship