The last page was curious. Wolves running in enormous packs, congregating in clearings and howling in chorus? The skies shining red at night? Livestock lining up in the fields, all facing toward the north, watching silently? The footprints of Shadowspawn armies in the middle of fields? These things smelled of simple hearsay, passed on from farmwife to farmwife until they reached the ears of Elayne’s spies.

Mat looked over the sheet, then—without even thinking of it—realized he had pulled Verin’s envelope out of his pocket. The still-sealed letter was looking worn and dirty, but he had not opened it. It seemed like the most difficult thing he had ever done, resisting that urge.

“Now that is a sight of some irregularity,” a woman’s voice said. Mat looked up to see Setalle strolling toward him. She wore a brown dress that laced over her ample bosom. Not that Mat spent any time looking at it.

“You like my den?” Mat asked. He set the envelope aside, then put the last of the spy reports on a stack, just beside a series of sketches he’d been doing on some new crossbows, based on the ones Talmanes had bought. The papers threatened to blow away. As he had no rock for this stack, he pulled off one of his boots and set it on the top.

“Your den?” Setalle asked, sounding amused.

“Sure,” Mat said, scratching the bottom of his stockinged foot. “You’ll have to make an appointment with my steward if you want to come in.”

“Your steward?”

“The stump right over there,” Mat said, nodding. “Not the little one, the big one with moss growing on the top.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“He’s quite good,” Mat said. “Hardly ever lets anyone in I don’t want to see.”

“You are an interesting creature, Matrim Cauthon,” Setalle said, seating herself on the larger stump. Her dress was after the Ebou Dar style, with the side pinned up to reveal petticoats colorful enough to scare away a Tinker.

“Did you want anything specific?” Mat asked. “Or did you just drop by so that you could sit on my steward’s head?”

“I heard that you visited the palace again today. Is it true that you know the Queen?”

Mat shrugged. “Elayne’s a nice enough girl. Pretty thing, that’s for certain.”

“You don’t shock me anymore, Matrim Cauthon,” Setalle noted. “I’ve realized that the things you say are often intended to do that.”

They were? “I say what I’m thinking, Mistress Anan. Why does it matter to you if I know the Queen?”

“Merely another piece of the puzzle that you represent,” Setalle said. “I received a letter from Joline today.”

“What did she want from you?”

“She didn’t ask for anything. She merely wanted to send word that they had arrived safely in Tar Valon.”

“You must have read it wrong.”

Setalle gave him a chiding stare. “Joline Sedai respects you, Master Cauthon. She often spoke highly of you, and the way that you rescued not only her, but the other two. She asked after you in the letter.”