“Ah,” Norry said, deflated. “So my initiative wasn’t so keen after all.”

“Oh, it was still valuable,” Elayne said. “If you hadn’t had her watched, we’d have missed this—which would have been embarrassing. If someone is going to go out of her way to insult me, then I at least want to be aware of it. If only so that I know whom to behead later on.”

Norry paled.

“Figuratively, Master Norry,” she said. As much as she’d like to do it. And Elaida too! She dared send a watchdog to “counsel” Elayne? Elayne shook her head. Hurry up, Egwene. We need you in the Tower. The world needs you there.

She sighed, turning back to Norry. “You said there were ‘several new matters’ that needed my attention?”

“Indeed, Your Majesty,” he said, getting out his horrible leather folder. He removed a page from it—one he did not regard with nearly as much reverence as most he collected. Indeed, he pinched this one between two fingers and held it aloft, like a man picking up a dead animal found in the gutter. “You will recall your orders regarding mercenary bands?”

“Yes,” she said, grimacing. She was getting thirsty. Gloomily, she eyed the cup of warm goat’s milk on the table next to her chair. News of battle brought bands of sell-swords eager to offer their services.

Unfortunately for most of the mercenaries, the siege had been a short one. News traveled fast, but weary and hungry soldiers traveled slowly. Soldier bands continued to arrive at the city in a steady flow, the men in them disappointed to find no need for their weapons.

Elayne had begun by sending them away. Then she’d realized the foolishness in this. Every man would be needed at Tarmon Gai’don, and if Andor could provide an extra five or ten thousand soldiers to the conflict, she wanted to do so.

She didn’t have the coin to pay them now, but neither did she want to lose them. So instead, she had ordered Master Norry and Captain Guybon to give all of the mercenary bands the same instructions. They were to allow no more than a certain number of soldiers into Caemlyn at a time, and they were to camp no closer than one league from the city.

This was to leave them with the idea that she’d meet with them eventually and offer them work. She just might do that, now that she had decided to take the Sun Throne. Of course, the last sell-swords she’d hired had gone rotten on her more often than not.

Against her better judgment, she picked up the cup of milk and took a sip. Birgitte nodded in satisfaction, but Elayne grimaced. Better to go thirsty!

“Well,” Master Norry said, looking over the page in his fingers, “one of the mercenary captains has taken it upon himself to send you a very…familiar letter. I wouldn’t have brought it to you, but upon second reading it seems that it is something you should see. The ruffian’s claims are outlandish, but I would not like to have been the one to ignore them, should they prove…um…accurate.”