'Will they keep it?' Thom asked.
'Not if they can wiggle out of it,' Mat said, then winced again. Light, but his head hurt! Well, he could not sit around and cry like he had lost his favorite foal. 'Let's go.'
They made their way out of the grand hall. Noal carried a torch, though he had reluctantly left his staff behind, favoring his shortsword.
There were no openings in the hallway this time, and Mat heard Noal muttering at that. It felt right. He had demanded a straight pathway back. The Eelfinn were liars and cheats, but they seemed to be liars and cheats like the Aes Sedai. Mat had made his demands carefully this time, rather than spouting out whatever occurred to him.
The hallway went on for a long while. Noal was growing more and more nervous; Mat kept on forward, footsteps in time with his throbbing skull. How would missing an eye change how he fought? He would have to be more careful of that left side. And he would have trouble judging distance now. In fact, he had that trouble now— walls and floor were disturbingly hard to judge.
Thom clutched Moiraine close to his chest, like a miser holding his gold. What was she to him, anyway? Mat had assumed that Thom was along for the same reason that Mat was—because it felt as if it needed to be done. That tenderness in Thom's face was not what Mat had expected to see.
The hallway ended abruptly in a five-sided arch. The room beyond appeared to be the one with the melted slag on the floor. No signs of the fight before were visible, no blood on the floor.
Mat took a deep breath and led the way through. He tensed as he saw Eelfinn here, crouching or standing in the shadows, hissing and growling. They did not move, did not strike, though some yipped quietly. Shadows made them seem even more like foxes. If Mat looked right at one, he could almost mistake them for ordinary men and women, but the way they moved in darkness, sometimes on all fours… No man walked like that, with the anxious tension of a chained predator. Like an angry hound, separated from you by a fence and fiercely eager to get to your throat.
But they held to their bargain. None attacked, and Mat began to feel right good about himself once they reached the other side of the room. He had beaten them. Last time, they had gotten the better end, but that was only because they had fought like cowards, punching a man who did not know the fight had started.
This time he had been ready. He had shown them that Matrim Cauthon was no fool.
They entered a corridor with the faintly glowing white steam at the top. The floor was of those black, interlocking triangles, curved on the sides like scales. Mat began to breathe easier as they entered one of the rooms with the twisting steam rising from the corners, though his eye socket still hurt like the nethers of a freshly gelded stallion.
He stopped in the center of the room, but then continued forward. He had demanded a straight pathway. That was what he would get. No doubling back and forth this time. 'Blood and bloody ashes!' Mat said, realizing something as he walked.
'What?' Thom asked, looking up from Moiraine with alarm.
'My dice,' Mat said. 'I should have included getting my dice back in the bargain.'
'But we discovered you don't need them to guide us.'
'It's not about that,' Mat grumbled. 'I like those dice.' He pulled his hat down again, looking down the hallway ahead. Was that motion he saw? All the way in the distance, a good dozen rooms away? No, it must be a trick of the shadows and the shifting steam.
'Mat,' Noal said. 'I've mentioned that my Old Tongue isn't what it once was. But I think I understood what you said. The bargain you made.'
'Yes?' Mat said, only half-listening. Had he been speaking in the Old Tongue again? Burn him. And what was that down the hallway?
'Well,' Noal said, 'you said—as part of the bargain—something like 'you foxes can't knock us down or try to kill us or anything.''
'Sure did,' Mat said.
'You said foxes, Mat,' Noal said. 'The foxes can't hurt us.'
'And they let us pass.'
'But what about the others?' Noal asked. 'The Aelfinn? If the Eelfinn can't hurt us, are the Aelfinn required to leave us be as well?'
The shadows in the far-distant corridor resolved into figures carrying long, sinuous bronze swords with curving blades. Tall figures, wearing layers of yellow cloth, the hair on their heads straight and black. Dozens of them, who moved with an unnatural grace, eyes staring forward. Eyes with pupils that were vertical slits.
Bloody and bloody ashes!
'Run!' Mat yelled.
'Which direction?' Noal asked, alarmed.
'Any direction!' Mat yelled. 'So long as it's away from them!'
CHAPTER 55
Aloud boom shook the hallways, making the entire structure rumble. Mat stumbled, leaning against the wall for support as smoke and chips of rock sprayed out of the opening behind them.
He ducked his head around and looked down the hallway as Thom and Noal ran onward, Thom clutching Moiraine. Noal had tossed his torch aside and gotten out a drum to try to soothe the Aelfinn. That had not worked, and so Mat had turned to the exploding cylinders and nightflowers.
Light, but the cylinders were deadly! He saw corpses of Aelfinn lying scattered through the hallway, their glistening skin ripped and torn, evil-looking smoke steaming from their blood. Others slid out of doorways and alcoves, pushing through the smoke. They walked on two legs, but they seemed to slither as they walked, waving back and forth through the hallway, their hissing growing angrier and angrier.
Heart pounding, Mat charged after Mat and Noal. 'They still following?' Noal called.
'What do you think?' Mat said, catching up to the other two. 'Light, but those snakes are fast!'
Mat and the other two burst into another room, identical to all of the others. Vaguely off-scale square walls, steam rising from the corners, black triangle-pattern floor tiles. There was no triangular opening at the center to get them out. Blood and bloody ashes.
Mat glanced at the three ways out, holding his ashandarei in sweaty hands. They could not do the same trick as before, bouncing back and forth between the same two rooms. Not with the Aelfinn behind them. He needed to invoke his luck. He prepared to spin, and—
'We have to keep moving!' Noal yelled. He had stopped by the doorway, dancing from one toe to the next in anxiety. 'Mat! If those snakes catch us…'
Mat could hear them behind, hissing. Like the rush of a river. He picked a direction and ran.
'Throw another cylinder!' Thom said.
'That was the last one!' Mat said. 'And we've only got three night-flowers.' His pack was feeling light.
'Music doesn't work on them,' Noal said, throwing aside his drum. 'They're too angry.'
Mat cursed and lit a nightflower with a striker, then tossed it over his shoulder. The three of them barreled into another room, then continued on directly through the doorway on the other side.
'I don't know what way to go, lad,' Thom said. He sounded so winded! 'We're lost.'
'I've been picking directions at random!' Mat said.
'Only you can't go backward,' Thom said. 'That's probably the direction the luck wants us to go!'
The nightflower boomed, the explosion echoing through the corridors. It was not nearly as great as that of the cylinders. Mat risked a glance over his shoulder, seeing smoke and sparks fly through the tunnel. The fire slowed the Aelfinn, but soon the more daring members of the band slithered through the smoke.
'Maybe we can negotiate!' Thom panted.
'They look too angry!' Noal said.
'Mat,' Thom said, 'you mentioned that they knew about your eye. They answered a question about it.'
