It was pouring, because of course it would be bloody pouring, when Mat and his group arrived at the gate leading out of town.

He glanced over to Selucia--Tuon's so'jihn--and made certain that she saw the knife he had laid casually across the rolled tapestry laying across Pips' shoulders ( Read more... )

The boxlike wagon reminded Mat of Tinker wagons he had seen, a little house on wheels, though this one, filled with cabinets and workbenches built into the walls was not made for living in. Wrinkling his nose at the smells that filled the interior, he shifted uncomfortably on his three-legged stool, the only place for anyone to sit. His broken leg ( Read more... )

Mat, dressed in a gold and black eagle mask with matching feather coat in deference to the Festival of Birds taking place today, arrived at the shaded courtyard a little later than he'd planned. He'd also planned to come alone, but instead he was flanked by three: the first, a short woman with waist-length blonde hair decorated elaborately with red ( Read more... )