Mat's plan of hit-and-fade attacks against the Seanchan had been in effect for a few days now, with Leilwin's "dragons" ("cannons", his mind kept repeating) working with more devastating effectiveness against the enemy than even their leashed da'mane could counter. It didn't mean that the Band had been able to escape the encounters unscathed. ( Read more... )

Mat's morning and afternoon had been extremely busy: first getting the rest of his soldiers out of the city (and his manservants, and Olver, and a bloody gleeman, and a Tairen thief-catcher and Light, Mat almost missed the days where it had been just him and his cloak sleeping under a bush), then telling Beslan that tonight was the night he would ( Read more... )

"Suroth is going to show me how much of Altara I control now, pigeon," Tylin told Mat, idly tracing her one of his scars with a long, green-laquered fingernail as they laid in bed together. "It wasn't her idea, actually. Tuon thinks it will help me if I see with my own eyes, and what that girl suggests, Suroth does. She would like to see it done by ( Read more... )

When Mat had heard the Seanchan soldiers going on and on about their triumphant "Return" to the continent, he had always assumed they'd meant an army. As he was jostled through the streets of Ebou Dar as thousands of Seanchan farmers, farriers, candle-stick makers and the Light knew what else streamed from ships that completely filled the harbor, ( 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... )

The drunken night with Birgitte, Beslan and Nalesean had turned into the world's most hungover morning after, which was why Mat was still not entirely convinced that the apology he'd received from Nynaeve and Elayne for not appreciating his rescue attempt in Tear so many months ago had not been something his fevered brain had concocted all on its ( Read more... )

Mat stood at the side of the beaten dirt track of the Silver Circuit, one of the places around Ebou Dar where they raced horses, and tried to stave off the blistering heat--even at this early hour--with the breeze offered by waving his hat. It wasn't that effective.

( The teal deer have missed him! )

When Mat rubbed his eyes, he knew that he definitely wasn't in Ebou Dar.

"I'm in the bloody woods," he said to his horse. "Why am I in the bloody woods? Bloody Elayne. Bloody Power."

He glared. He was talking to his horse. "Bloody everything."

He glanced around. "Where am I? Where are Elayne and Nynaeve ( Read more... )

After Mat's very reasonable reaction to Egwene--who had only been old enough to braid her hair last year--and her announcement of being the Amyrlin Seat to this pack of goat-brained lunatics, the Aes Sedai had left him cooling his heels (and, as Nynaeve had scathingly told him, lucky not to have it be in a locked room) as they figured out what ( Read more... )

The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind gusted over the walls of Caemlyn. It blew past a man with reddish hair and ( Read more... )