“You did well, Master Norry,” Elayne said. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

“You do indeed know these mercenaries, then?” he asked, a hint of surprise sounding in his voice.

“They’re not mercenaries. Actually, I’m not certain what they are. Friends. And allies, I should hope.” Why had Mat brought the Band of the Red Hand to Andor? Were they loyal to Rand? Could she make use of them? Mat was a scoundrel, but he had a strangely good eye for tactics and warfare. A soldier under his command would be worth ten of the sell-sword riffraff she’d been forced to hire recently.

“My pardon, Your Majesty, for my mistake,” Norry said. “I should have brought this to you sooner. My informants told me that this group was recently in the employ of the Crown of Murandy, so I discounted their leader’s insistence that he wasn’t a mercenary.”

“You did well, Master Norry,” Elayne said, still feeling amused and insulted. It was odd how often one moved between those two emotions when Matrim Cauthon was involved. “Light knows I’ve been busy enough. But please, if someone claims to know me personally, at least bring it to Birgitte’s attention.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Arrange a meeting with Master Cauthon,” she said, idly wishing she had time to write him back a letter as insulting as the one he’d written her. “Tell him he must bring Thom with him. To…keep him in line.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Norry said with a characteristically stiff bow. “If I may withdraw…”

She nodded in thanks and he left, pulling the door closed. Elayne held Mat’s letter idly between two fingers. Could she use Mat, somehow, to help her with the troubles Ellorien was making? As she’d used the Borderlanders? Or was that too obvious?

“Why did he mention bellfounders, do you think?” Birgitte asked.

“It could be something as simple as needing a new bell to ring the hour for his camp.”

“But you don’t think it’s simple.”

“Mat’s involved,” Elayne said. “He has a way of complicating things, and the way he wrote that line makes it smell like one of his schemes.”

“True. And if he merely wanted a bell, he could win himself enough to buy it after an hour dicing.”

“Come now,” Elayne said. “He’s not that lucky.”

Birgitte snorted into her tea. “You need to pay better attention, Elayne. That man could dice with the Dark One and win.”

Elayne shook her head. Soldiers, Birgitte included, could be such a superstitious lot. “Make certain to have a few extra Guardswomen on duty when Mat comes. He can be exuberant, and I wouldn’t want him to make a scene.”

“Who is this man?” Dyelin asked, sounding confused.

“One of the other two ta’veren who grew up with Rand al’Thor,” Birgitte said, gulping down her tea. She’d given up drinking while Elayne was pregnant. At least someone else had to suffer too.

“Mat is…a particularly dynamic individual,” Elayne said. “He can be very useful when properly harnessed. When he is not—which is most of the time—he can be an outright disaster. But whatever else can be said about the man, he and his Band know how to fight.”