Thom puffed on his pipe, raising an absent hand to his breast pocket, where he kept the letter. “She said to remember what we knew of the game.”

“She knows there’s no way to win when dealing with them,” Mat said. “No trades, Thom, no bargains. We go in fighting and we don’t leave until we have her.”

Thom hesitated for a moment, then nodded, his pipe beginning to puff.

“Courage to strengthen,” Noal said. “Well, we have enough of that, with Mat’s luck.”

“You don’t have to be part of this, you know, Noal,” Mat said. “You have no reason to risk yourself on this.”

“I’m going,” Noal said. “I’ve seen a lot of places. Most places, actually. But never this one.” He hesitated. “It’s something I need to do. And that’s the end of it.”

“Very well,” Mat said.

“Fire to blind,” Noal said. “What do we have?”

“Lanterns and torches,” Mat said, knocking his foot against the sack beside his chair. “And some of those firesticks from Aludra, so we can light them. A few surprises from her, too.”

“Fireworks?” Noal asked.

“And a few of those exploding cylinders we used against the Seanchan. She calls them roarsticks.”

Thom whistled. “She let you have some?”

“Two. When I presented her with Elayne’s agreement, she was ready to let me have almost anything I asked for.” Mat grimaced. “She wanted to come along to light them. Herself! Burn me, but that was a tough argument to end. But we’ve got a whole lot of nightflowers.” He tapped the sack beside his chair with the edge of his foot.

“You brought them?” Thom asked.

“I wanted to keep them close,” Mat said. “And she only gave them to me today. They’re not going to explode by accident, Thom. That doesn’t happen very often.”

“Well at least move them back from the hearth!” Thom said. He glanced at his pipe and cursed, then scooted his chair a few inches from Mat.

“Next,” Noal said, “music to dazzle.”

“I got us a variety,” Thom said. “I’ll bring my harp and flute, but I found us some hand drums and hand cymbals. They can be strapped to the side of your leg and hit with one hand. I also bought an extra flute.” He eyed Mat. “A simple one, designed for those with thick, slow fingers.”

Mat snorted.

“And finally, iron to bind,” Noal said, sliding forward a pack of his own. It clinked faintly as he untied the top, the contents reflecting the deep orange hearthlight. “A set of throwing knives for each of us and two shortswords. Each of pure iron, no steel. I got us some chains, too, and a band of iron to clip around the butt of Mat’s spear. It might throw the weight off, though.”

“I’ll take it,” Mat said.

Noal did up his pack again, and the three of them sat before the hearth for a time. In a way, these things they’d gathered were an illusion. A way to reassure themselves that they were doing something to prepare.