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s that drifted from inns and palaces； dancing their way from one set of festivities to another； but for the most part the streets lay empty。 A distant dog barked； and another； closer； answered furiously until it suddenly yelped and fell silent。
Balanced on his toes； Mat listened； eyes searching the moonshadows。 Only a cat moved； slinking along the street。 The slap of running bare feet faded。 The owner of one pair should be staggering； and the other bleeding。 As he bent； his foot kicked a club as long as his arm on the paving stones； heavy brass studs shone in the moonlight。 That would have broken his skull for sure。 Shaking his head； he wiped his knife on the ragged coat worn by the man at his feet。 Open eyes stared at the night sky from a dirty； creased face。 A beggar； by the look and smell of him。 Mat had not heard of beggars attacking people； but maybe times were harder than he thought。 A large jute sack lay near one outstretched hand。 The fellows certainly had been optimistic about what they would find in his pockets。 The thing could have covered him from head to knees。
To the north； above the city； light suddenly burst in the sky with a hollow boom as glittering streaks of green expanded in a ball； and then another eruption showered red sparkles through die first； then a blue； and a yellow。 Illuminators' nightflowers； not as spectacular as they would have been in a moonless； cloudy sky； yet still they took his breath。 He could watch fireworks till he fell over from hunger。 Nalesean had spoken of an Illuminator … Light； was that only this morning？ … but no more nightflowers came。 When Illuminators made the sky bloom； as they said； they planted more than four flowers。 Plainly someone with coin had made a purchase for Swovan Night。 He wished he knew who。 An Illuminator who would sell nightflowers would sell more than that。
Slipping the knife back up his sleeve； he gathered his hat from the pavement and walked away hurriedly； his boots echoing； a sound empty as the street。 Most shuttered windows here showed not a glimmer of light。 A better place for murder probably could not be found in the city。 The entire encounter with the three beggars had lasted only a minute or two and had been seen by no one。 In this city； you could find three or four fights in a day if you were not careful； but the odds of facing two sets of robbers in one day seemed about as great as the odds of the Civil Guard refusing a bribe。 What was happening to his luck？ If only those bloody dice would stop rolling in his head。 He did not run； but he did not dawdle either； one hand on a hilt beneath his coat and an eye open for anyone moving in the shadows。 He saw nothing but a few clumps of people cavorting along the street； though。
In the mon room of The Wandering Woman； the tables had been cleared away except for a few near the walls。 The flutists and the drummer made shrill music for four laughing lines of people doing what appeared to be half pattern…dance and half jig。 Watching； he copied a step。 Outland merchants in fine woolens leaped right along with locals in brocaded silk vests or those useless coats slung on their shoulders。 He marked out two of the merchants for the way they moved； one slender and one not； yet both with a light grace； and several local women wearing their best； the deep necklines outlined by a little lace or a great deal of embroidery； but none in silk。 Not that he would refuse to dance with a woman in silk； of course … he had never turned down a dance with any woman of any age or station … but the rich were in the palaces tonight； or the homes of the wealthier merchants and moneylenders。 Those folk near the walls； catching their breath for the next dance； had their faces buried in mugs often as not； or were snatching fresh mugs from trays carried by scurrying serving women。 Mistress Anan likely would sell as much wine tonight as in an ordinary week。 Ale； too； the local folk must have no taste to their tongues。
Trying another step of the dance； he caught Caira as she tried to hurry by with a tray； pitching his voice loud above the music to ask a few questions and finishing with an order for his dinner； gilded fish； a tangy dish that Mistress Anan's cook prepared to perfection。 A man needed his strength to keep up in the dance。
Caira flashed a sultry smile at a fellow in a yellow vest who grabbed a mug from her tray and dropped his coin on it； but for once she had no smile for Mat。 in fact； she managed to press her mouth to a thin line； no small feat。 〃Your little rabbit； am I？〃 With a telling sniff； she went on impatiently。 〃The boy is tucked into his bed； where he should be； and I don't know where Lord Nalesean is； or Harnan； or Master Vanin； or anybody else。 And Cook said she won't fix anything but soup and bread for those as are drowning their tongues in wine。 Though why my Lord wants gilded fish when he has a gilded woman waiting in his room； I'm sure I couldn't say。 If my Lord will excuse me； some people need to work for their crust。〃 She swooped away； proffering her tray and smiling fit to split her face at every man in sight。
Mat frowned after her。 A gilded woman？ In his room？ The chest of gold rested now in a small hollow beneath the kitchen floor； in front of one of the stoves； but the dice in his head drummed like thunder suddenly。
The sounds of merriment faded a little as he slowly climbed the stairs。 In front of his door； he paused； listening to the dice。 Two attempts to rob him so far today。 Twice his skull could have been broken。 He was sure that Darkfriend had not seen him； and no one could call her gilded； but。。。 He fingered a hilt under his coat； then took his hand away as a woman flared in his thoughts； a tall woman falling with the hilt of a knife protruding between her breasts。 His knife。 Luck would just have to be with him。 Sighing； he pushed open the door。
The Hunter that Elayne had made her Warder turned； hefting his unstrung Two Rivers bow； her golden braid drawn over her。 shoulder。 Her blue eyes fastened on him purposefully； and her face fixed itself in determination。 She looked ready to drub him with the bow if she did not get what she wanted。
〃If this is about Olver；〃 he began； and suddenly a twist of memory unfolded； a mist thinned over one day； one hour in his life。
There was no hope； with Seanchan to the west and Whitecloaks to the east； no hope and only one chance； so he raised the curled Horn and blew； not really knowing what to expect。 The sound came golden as the Horn； so sweet he did not know whether to laugh or cry。 It echoed； and the earth and heavens seemed to sing。 While that one pure note hung in the air； a fog began to rise； appearing from nowhere； thin wisps； thickening； billowing higher； until all was obscured as if clouds covered the land。 And down the clouds they rode； as though down a mountainside； the dead heroes of legend； bound to be called back by the Horn of Valere。 Artur Hawkwing himself led； tall and hook…nosed； and behind came the rest； little more than a hundred。 So few； but all those the Wheel would spin out again and again to guide the Pattern； to make legend and myth。 Mikel of the Pure Heart； and Shivan the Hunter behind his black mask。 He was said to herald the end of Ages； the destruction of what had been and the birth of what was to be； he and his sister Calian； called the Chooser； who rode red…masked at his side。 Amaresu； with the Sword of the Sun glowing in her hands； and Paedrig； the golden…tongued peacemaker； and there； carrying the silver bow with which she never missed。。。
He pushed the door shut trying to lean against it。 He felt dizzy； dazed。 〃You are she。 Birgitte； for true。 Burn my bones to ash； it's impossible。 How？ How？〃
The woman of legend gave a resigned sigh and propped his bow back in the corner next to his spear。 〃I was ripped out untimely； Hornsounder； cast out by Moghedien to die and saved by Elayne's bonding。〃 She spoke slowly； studying him as if to be sure he understood。 〃I feared you might remember who I used to be。〃
Still feeling hit between the eyes； he flung himself scowling into the armchair beside his table。 Who she used to be； indeed。 Fists on hips； she confronted him challengingly； no whit different from the Birgitte he had seen ride out of the sky。 Even her clothes were the same； though this short coat was red and the wide trousers yellow。 〃Elayne and Nynaeve know and kept it from me； true？ I weary of secrets； Birgitte； and they harbor secrets as a grain barn harbors rats。 They've bee Aes Sedai； eyes and hearts。 Even Nynaeve is twice a stranger； now。〃
〃You have your own secrets。〃 Folding her arms under her breasts； she sat on the foot of his bed。 The way she looked at him； you would have thought he was a tavern puzzle。 〃For one； you've not told them you blew the Horn of Valere。 The smallest of your secrets from them； I think。〃
Mat blinked。 He had assumed they had told her。 After all； she was Birgitte。 〃What secrets do I have？ Those women know my toenails and dreams。〃 She was Birgitte。 Of course。 He leaned forward。 〃Make them see reason。 You're Birgitte Silverbow。 You can make them do as you say。 This city has a pit…trap at every crossing； and I