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"They’re afraid you don’t trust them," Aram said suddenly. Perrin looked at him in surprise, and Aram shifted his shoulders in his coat. "I’ve talked to them, some. They think if a lord tends his own horses, it must be because he doesn’t trust them. You might send them off, with no way to get home." His tone said they were fools to think that, but he gave Perrin a sideways glance and shrugged again, uncomfortably. "I think they’re embarrassed, too. If you don’t behave the way they think a lord should, it reflects on them, as they see it."
"Light!" Perrin muttered. Faile had said the same – about them being embarrassed, anyway – but he had believed it just a lord’s daughter talking. Faile had grown up surrounded by servants, yet how could a lady know the thoughts of a man who had to work for his bread? He frowned toward the horselines. Five of the farriers stood together watching him, now. Embarrassed that he wanted to look after his own horses, and upset that he did not want them pulling wool and scratching gravel all over the place. "Do you think I ought to act like a fool in silk smallclothes?" he asked. Aram blinked, and began studying his boots. "Light!" Perrin growled.
Spotting Basel Gill hurrying from the direction of the carts, Perrin moved to meet him. He did not think he had done very well at making Gill feel at ease yesterday. The stout man was talking to himself and once more mopping his head with a kerchief, sweating away in a rumpled dark gray coat. The day’s heat was begi
"Ah. My Lord Perrin. Your Lady told me to take a cart into Bethal. She says I’m to find you some Two Rivers tabac, if I can, but I don’t know that’s possible. Two Rivers leaf has always been dear, and trade isn’t what it was."
"She’s sending you for tabac?" Perrin said, frowning. He supposed secrecy had gone down the well, but still. "I bought three casks, two villages back. Enough for everybody."
Gill shook his head firmly. "Not Two Rivers leaf, and your Lady says you like that above any other. The Ghealdanin leaf will do for your men. I’m to be your shambayan, she called it, and keep you and her supplied with what you need. Not much different from what I did ru
His Lady’s other retainers. Tallanvor and Lamgwin were bringing out yet another chest for the women to sort through. They had to pass by the squatting clump of young fools, who never offered to lend a hand. In fact, the layabouts ignored them completely.
"You keep an eye on that lot," Perrin cautioned. "If one of them starts any trouble – if he even looks as if he will – you have Lamgwin crack his head." And if it was one of the women? They were just as likely, maybe more so. Perrin grunted. Faile’s "retainers" were going to tie his belly into permanent knots yet. Too bad she could not be satisfied with the likes of Master Gill and Maighdin. "You didn’t mention Balwer. Has he decided to go on alone?" Just then, a shift in the breeze brought him Balwer’s scent, an alert smell very much at odds with the fellow’s almost desiccated exterior.
Even for so reedy a man, Balwer made surprisingly little noise on the dried leaves underfoot. In a sparrow-brown coat, he offered a quick bow, and his tilted head added to the image of a bird. "I am staying, my Lord," he said cautiously. Or maybe that was just his ma
Gill frowned at Balwer, opened his mouth, then closed it with a snap. Spi
For a moment Balwer watched him go, head to one side, lips pursed thoughtfully. "I can offer other services, as well, my Lord," he said finally. "Knowledge. I overheard some of my Lord’s men speaking, and I understand that my Lord may have had some... difficulties... with the Children of the Light. A secretary learns many things. I know a surprising amount about the Children."
"With any luck I can avoid Whitecloaks," Perrin told him. "Better if you knew where the Prophet is. Or the Seanchan." He did not expect any of that, of course, but Balwer surprised him.
"I ca
"How can you be so sure?" Perrin said slowly.
"As I said, my Lord, I keep my ears open. The Prophet reportedly closed a number of i
Perrin scratched his beard thoughtfully. The man just happened to remember where some i
Balwer’s ski
Watching him bow himself away, Perrin thought he knew part of Balwer’s story now. Clearly, he also had run afoul of the Whitecloaks. That could take no more than being on the same street with them, a frown at the wrong time, but it seemed Balwer had a grudge. A sharp mind, too, seeing right away about the Red Eagle. And a sharp tongue with Master Gill.
Gill was on his knees beside Maighdin, talking rapidly despite Lini’s effort to hush him. Maighdin had turned to stare after Balwer as the fellow hurried through the trees toward the carts, but now and then her gaze swung to Perrin. The rest of them clustered close to her, peering now at Balwer, now at Perrin. If he had ever seen a group of people worried about what somebody else had said, it was they. But what were they worried he might have heard? Backbiting, probably. Tales of resentments and misdeeds, real or imagined. People cooped up together tended to start pecking at one another. If that was it, maybe he could put a stop before somebody drew blood. Tallanvor was fondling his sword hilt again! What did Faile intend to do with the fellow?