A Memory of Light

ashes, he’s strong. Without a gamble, we’re dead. Finished. Buried.”
    She grew silent.
    Here’s the thing about cards,” Mat said, holding up a finger. “Cards arent like dice. In dice, you want to win as many throws as possible. Lots of throws, lots of wins. It’s random, see? But not cards. In cards, you need to make the other fellows start betting. Betting well. You do that by letting them win a little. Or a lot.
    That’s not so hard here, since we’re outnumbered and overwhelmed. The only way to win is to bet everything on the right hand. In cards, you can lose ninety-nine times but come out ahead if you win that right hand. So long as the enemy starts gambling recklessly. So long as you can ride the losses.”
    “And that’s what you’re doing?” Elayne asked. “You’re faking that were losing?”
    “Bloody ashes, no,” Mat said. “I can’t fake that. He’d see through it. I am losing, but I’m also watching. Holding back for that last bet, the one that could win it all.”
    “So when do we move?”
    “When the right cards come along,” Mat said. He raised his hand, stilling her objection. “I’ll know, Elayne. I just will bloody know. That’s all I can say.”
    She folded her arms above her swollen belly. Light, it seemed bigger every day. “Fine. What are your plans for Andor’s forces?”
    “I already have Tam and his men committed along the river at the ruins,” Mat said. “As for the rest of your armies, I’d like you to go help at the ford. Demandred is probably counting on those Trollocs north of here to cross the river and herd our defenders downriver on the Shienaran side while the rest of the Trollocs and the Sharans come off the Heights to push us back across the ford and upriver.
    “They’ll try to squeeze us tight, envelop us, and that will be that. Only, Demandred sent a force up the Mora to stop the river from flowing, and it’s going to succeed very soon. We’ll see if there’s a way to make that work for us. But once the river’s gone, we’ll need a solid defense in place to stop the Trollocs when they try to surge over the riverbed. That’s what your forces are for.”
    “We’ll go,” Elayne said.
    “We?” Birgitte barked.
    “I’m riding with my troops,” Elayne said, walking toward the horselines.
    “Its increasingly obvious that I wont be able to do anything here, and Mat wants me away from the command position. I’ll bloody go, then.”
    “Into battle ?” Birgitte said.
    “Were already in battle, Birgitte,” Elayne said. “The Sharan channelers could have ten thousand men assaulting Dashar Knob, and this cleft, in minutes. Come. I promise I’ll let you put so many Guards around me that I won’t be able to sneeze without spraying a dozen of them.”
    Birgitte sighed, and Mat gave her a consoling look. She nodded farewell to him, then walked off with Elayne.
    All right, Mat thought, turning back toward the command building. Elayne was doing what she had to, and Talmanes had caught his signal. Now the real challenge.
    Could he coax Tuon into doing what he wanted?

    Galad led the cavalry of the Children of the Light in a sweeping attack along the Mora, near the ruins. The Trollocs had constructed more raft bridges here, and bodies floated as thick as autumn leaves on a pond. The archers had done their work well.
    Those Trollocs that finally crossed now had the Children to contend with. Galad leaned in low, lance held firmly, as he split the neck of a hulking, bear-faced Trolloc; he continued forward, lance tip streaming blood, the Trolloc falling to its knees behind him.
    He guided his mount Sidama into the mass of Trollocs, knocking them down or causing them to leap out of the way. The power of a cavalry charge was in numbers, and those Galad forced aside could be trampled by the horses following him.
    After his charge came a volley from Tam’s men, who launched arrows into the main body of Trollocs as they stumbled onto the banks of the river. Those behind pushed over them, trampling the wounded.
    Golever and several other Children joined Galad as their charge— which swept lengthwise across the front rank of Trollocs—ran out of enemies. He and his men reared and turned, lances up, galloping back to locate small groups of men separated and fighting alone.
    The battlefield here was enormous. Galad spent the better part of an hour hunting out such groups, rescuing them and ordering them to the ruins so that Tam or one of his