Its voice was hypnotic, soothing. It did make sense. What need had they of fire? It was light enough with that mist. It…
“Thom,” Mat said. “Music.”
“What?” Thom said, shaking a little bit.
“Play anything. It doesn’t matter what.”
Thom took out his flute, and the Eelfinn narrowed its eyes. Thom began playing. It was a familiar song, “The Wind That Shakes the Willows.” Mat had intended to soothe the Eelfinn, maybe put it off guard. But the familiar tune seemed to help dispel the cloud on Mat’s mind.
“This isn’t needed,” the Eelfinn said, glaring at Thom.
“Yes it is,” Mat said. “And we’re not bloody leaving our fire. Not unless you promise to take us all the way to the central chamber and give us back Moiraine.”
“I cannot make that bargain,” the creature said, continuing to walk around them. Mat turned to follow it, never letting his back to the thing. “I have not the authority.”
“Bring someone who can.”
“Impossible,” the Eelfinn said. “Listen to me. Fire isn’t needed. I will lead you half of the way to the central chamber, the Chamber of Bonds, should you leave behind that terrible fire. It offends us. We wish only to meet your desires.”
The creature was obviously trying to lull them again, but its cadence was off, at odds with Thom’s playing. Mat watched it, then began to sing along with the flute playing. He did not have the best voice among those he knew, but he was not terrible either. The Eelfinn yawned, then settled down beside the wall and closed its eyes. In moments, it was sleeping.
Thom lowered the flute from his lips, looking impressed.
“Nicely done,” Noal whispered. “I had no idea you were so fluent in the Old Tongue.”
Mat hesitated. He had not even realized they had been speaking in it.
“My Old Tongue is rusty,” Noal said, rubbing his chin, “but I caught a lot of that. Problem is, we still don’t know the way through this place. How will we make our way without one of them to guide us?”
He was right. Birgitte had wandered for months, never knowing if her goal was merely a few steps away. The chamber where Mat had met the Eelfinn leaders…she had said that once you were there, they had to bargain with you. That must be the Chamber of Bonds the Eelfinn had mentioned.
Poor Moiraine. She had come through one of the red doorways; she should have been protected by whatever treaty the Eelfinn had with the ancient Aes Sedai. But that doorway had been destroyed. No way back.
When Mat had come originally, they had praised him as wise for thinking to ask for a leave-taking. Though he grumbled, still, about the Eelfinn not answering his questions, he could see that was not what they did. The Aelfinn were for questions; the Eelfinn granted requests. But they twisted those requests, and took whatever price they wanted. Mat had unwittingly asked for his memory filled, for a way to be free of the Aes Sedai, and a way out of the Tower.
If Moiraine had not known this, and had not asked for passage out as he had done…or if she had asked for passage back to the doorway, not knowing it had been destroyed….
Mat had asked for a way out. They had given it to him, but he could not remember what it was. Everything had gone black, and he had awakened hanging from the ashandarei.
Mat pulled something from his pocket, holding it tightly in his fist. “The Aelfinn and the Eelfinn get around in here somehow,” his whispered. “There has to be a correct pathway.”
“One way,” Noal said. “Four choices, followed by four choices, followed by four choices…The odds against us are incredible!”
“Odds,” Mat said, holding out his hand. He opened it, revealing a pair of dice. “What do I care for odds?”
The two looked at his ivory dice, then looked back up at his face. Mat could feel his luck surge. “Twelve pips. Three for each doorway. If I roll a one, a two, or a three, we go straight. Four, five, or six, we take the right path, and so on.”
“But Mat,” Noal whispered, glancing at the sleeping Eelfinn. “The rolls won’t be equal. You can’t roll a one, for example, and a seven is far more likely to—”
“You don’t understand, Noal,” Mat said, tossing the dice to the floor. They rattled against the scale-like tiles, clacking like teeth. “It doesn’t matter what is likely. Not when I’m around.”
The dice came to a rest. One of them caught in a rut between two tiles and froze precariously, one of the corners to the air. The other came to rest with a single pip showing.
“How about that, Noal,” Thom said. “Looks like he can roll a one after all.”
“Now that’s something,” Noal said, rubbing his chin.
Mat fetched his ashandarei, then picked up the dice and walked straight ahead. The others followed, leaving the sleeping Eelfinn behind.
At the next intersection, Mat rolled again, and got a nine. “Back the way we came?” Thom asked, frowning. “That’s—”
“Just what we’re going to do,” Mat said, turning and going back. In the other room, the sleeping Eelfinn was gone.
“They could have wakened him,” Noal pointed out.
“Or it could be a different room,” Mat said, tossing the dice again. Another nine. He was facing the way he had come, so a nine meant going back again. “The Aelfinn and the Eelfinn have rules,” Mat said, turning and running down the corridor, the other two chasing after him. “And this place has rules.”
“Rules have to make sense, Mat,” Noal said.
“They have to be consistent,” Mat said. “But they don’t have to follow our logic. Why should they?”
It made sense to him. They ran for a time—this hallway seemed much longer than the others. He was starting to feel winded when he reached the next room. He tossed the dice again, but suspected what he would see. Nine. Back to the first room again.
“Look, this is foolish!” Noal said as they turned and ran back the other way. “We’re never going to get anywhere this way!”
Mat ignored him, continuing to run. Soon they approached the first room again.
“Mat,” Noal said, pleadingly. “Can we at least….”
Noal trailed off as they burst into the first chamber. Only it was not the first chamber. This room had a white floor, and was enormous, with thick, black columns rising toward an unseen ceiling far above.
The glowing white steam that pooled atop their corridor poured into the room and fell upward into that blackness, like a waterfall going in the wrong direction. Though the floor and the columns looked like glass, Mat knew they would feel porous, like stone. The room was lit by a series of glowing yellow stripes that ran up each column, marking places where the carved glass-stone was fluted to a point.
Thom clapped him on the shoulder. “Mat, lad, that was insane. And effective. Somehow.”
“About what you should expect from me,” Mat said, pulling down the brim of his hat. “I’ve been in this room before. We’re on track. If Moiraine still lives, then she’ll be somewhere past here.”
Chapter 54
The Light of the World
Thom held up his torch, inspecting the enormous star-shaped black columns and their glowing yellow lines. Those lines gave the entire room a sickly light, making Thom look wan and jaundiced.
Mat remembered the stink of this place, that musty staleness. Now that he knew what to look for, he could smell something else, too. The musky stink of an animal’s den. A predator’s lair.
There were five corridors leading out of the room, one at each inner point of the star shape. He remembered passing through one of those passageways, but had there not been only one way out before?
“Wonder how high up the pillars go,” Thom said, raising his torch higher and squinting.
Mat held his ashandarei in a firmer grip, palms sweaty. They had entered the foxes’ den. He felt at his medallion. The Eelfinn had not used the Power on him before, but they had to have some understanding of it, did they not? Of course, Ogier could not channel. Perhaps that meant Eelfinn could not either.
Rustling sounds came from the edges of the room. Shadows shifted and moved. The Eelfinn were in there, in that darkness. “Thom,” Mat said. “We should play some more music.”
Thom watched that darkness. He did not object; he raised his flute and began playing. The sound seemed lonely in the vast room.
“Mat,” Noal said, kneeling near the center of the room. “Look at this.”
“I know,” Mat said. “It looks like glass but feels like stone.”
“No, not that,” Noal said. “There’s something here.”
Mat edged over to Noal. Thom joined them, watching and playing as Noal used his lantern to illuminate a melted lump of slag on the floor, perhaps the size of a small chest. It was black, but a deeper, less reflective black than the floor and the columns.
“What do you make of it?” Noal asked. “Maybe one of the trapdoors?”
“No,” Mat said. “It’s not that.”
The other two looked at him.
“It’s the doorframe,” Mat said, feeling sick. “The redstone doorframe. When I came through it before, it was in the center of a room like this. When it melted on the other side…”
“It melted here too,” Noal said.
The three stared at it. Thom’s music sounded haunting.
“Well,” Mat said. “We knew it wasn’t a way out in the first place. We’ll have to bargain our way free.” And I’ll make bloody sure not to get hanged this time.
“Will the dice lead us?” Noal asked, rising.
Mat felt them in his coat pocket. “I don’t see why not.” But he did not take them out. He turned to regard the depths of the room. Thom’s music seemed to have stilled some of the shadows. But others still moved. There was a restless energy to the air.
“Mat?” Thom asked.
“You knew I’d come back,” Mat said loudly. His voice did not echo. Light! How large was the thing? “You knew I’d come marching back to your bloody realm, didn’t you? You knew you’d have me eventually.”
Hesitant, Thom lowered his flute.
“Show yourselves!” Mat said. “I can hear you scrambling, hear you breathing.”
“Mat,” Thom said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “They couldn’t have known that you’d come back. Moiraine didn’t know that you’d come for certain.”
Mat watched the darkness. “You ever see men lead cattle to slaughter, Thom?”
The gleeman hesitated, then shook his head.
“Well, every man has his own ways,” Mat said. “But cattle, see, they’ll know something is wrong. They’ll smell the blood. They’ll get frenzied, refuse to enter the slaughterhouse. And you know how you fix that?”
“Do we have to talk about this now, Mat?”
“You fix it,” Mat said, “by taking them through the slaughterhouse a few times when it is clean, when the scents aren’t so strong. You let them go through and escape, see, and they’ll think the place is safe.” He looked at Thom. “They knew I’d be back. They knew I’d survive that hanging. They know things, Thom. Burn me, but they do.”