“I don’t intend to be there myself,” Mat said. Ahead, the trees broke wide into a small valley with green pastures rising high along the hills to the sides. A town of several hundred buildings was nestled between the slopes, a mountain stream running down the middle. The houses were of a deep gray stone, each with a prominent chimney, most of which curled with smoke. The roofs were sloped to deal with what were probably very snowy winters, though the only white still visible now was on distant peaks. Workers were already busy on several of the roofs replacing winter-damaged shingles, and goats and sheep grazed the hillsides, watched over by shepherd boys.
There were a few hours of light remaining, and other men worked on shopfronts and fences. Others strolled through the streets of the village, no urgency in their gait. Overall, the little town had a relaxing air of mixed industry and laziness.
Mat pulled up beside Talmanes and the soldiers. “That’s a nice sight,” Talmanes noted. “I was beginning to think every town in the world was either falling apart, packed with refugees or under the thumb of invaders. At least this one doesn’t seem likely to vanish on us ...”
“Light send it so,” Mat said, shivering, thinking of the town in Altara that had vanished. “Anyway, let’s hope they don’t mind dealing with a few strangers.” He eyed the soldiers; all five were Redarms, among the best he had. “Three of you five, go with the Aes Sedai. I suspect that they’ll want to stay at a different inn from myself. We’ll meet up in the morning.”
The soldiers saluted, and Joline sniffed as she passed on her horse, pointedly not looking at Mat. She and the others headed down the incline in a little cluster, three of Mat’s soldiers following.
“That looks like an inn there,” Thom said, pointing toward a larger building on the eastern side of the village. “You’ll find me there.” He waved, then kicked his mount into a trot and rode on ahead, gleeman’s cloak streaming. Arriving first would give him the best chance at a dramatic entrance.
Mat glanced at Talmanes, who shrugged. The two of them made their way down the slope with two soldiers as an escort. Because of the bend in the road, they were approaching from the southwest. To the northeast of the village, the ancient roadway continued. It looked strange to have such a large road leading past a village like this, even if that road was old and broken. Master Roidelle claimed that it would lead them straight up into Andor. It was too uneven to be used as a major highway, and the direction it led no longer passed major cities, so it had been forgotten. Mat blessed their luck in finding it, though. The main passages into Murandy had been crowded with Seanchan.
According to Roidelle’s maps, Hinderstap specialized in producing goat’s cheese and mutton for the various towns and manor lands in the region. The villagers should be used to outsiders. Indeed, several boys came running from the fields the moment they spotted Thom and his gleeman’s cloak. He’d make a stir, but a familiar one. The Aes Sedai, though, would be memorable.
By the time Mat and Talmanes reached the village, Thom had already gathered a small crowd. He stood upright on his saddle and juggled three colored balls in his right hand while talking of his travels in the south. The villagers here wore vests and green cloaks of a deep, velvety cloth. They looked warm, though upon closer inspection, Mat noticed that many of them—cloaks, vests and trousers—had been torn, and carefully mended.
Another group of people, mostly women, had gathered around the Aes Sedai. Good; Mat had half-expected the villagers to be frightened. One of those standing at the side of Thom’s group eyed Mat and Talmanes appraisingly. He was a sturdy fellow, with thick arms and linen sleeves that were rolled to the elbows despite the chill spring air. His arms curled with dark hair that matched his beard and the locks on his head.
“You have the look of a lord about you,” the man said, approaching Mat.
“He’s a pr—” Talmanes began before Mat cut him off hastily.
“I suppose I do at that,” Mat said, keeping an eye on Talmanes.
“I’m Barlden, the mayor here,” the man said, folding his arms. “You’re welcome to come and trade. Be aware that we don’t have much to spare.”
“Surely you at least have some cheese,” Talmanes said. “That’s what you produce, isn’t it?”
“All that hasn’t molded or spoiled is needed for our custom,” mayor Barlden said. “That’s just the way of things, these days.” He hesitated. “But if you have cloth or clothing you’ll trade, we might be able to scrape something up to feed you for the day.”
