Rand took a deep breath before pushing open the heavy inn door. The main hall revealed itself to be spacious, with dark wooden panels lining the walls and the welcoming warmth of two crackling fireplaces at each end of the room. The familiar scent of burning wood mingled with the irresistible aroma of freshly baked bread and seasoned meat, bringing an unexpected warmth to Rand's chest—and making Mat's mouth water.
Two maids were busy with chores that seemed more out of habit than necessity. One was sweeping the already spotless floor, and the other was polishing gleaming brass chandeliers in the corner. Both gave the newcomers polite smiles before returning to their tasks.
Despite the early hour, a dozen men occupied a few scattered tables—clean and apparently sober, which, considering the hour and the type of place, was surprising. None of them seemed pleased to see the boys, but neither was there any open hostility. It was a relief, albeit a small one.
The innkeeper appeared shortly. He was a stout man with a round, ruddy face, wearing a crisp white apron. His graying hair was combed back, a futile attempt to cover the bald spot at the top of his head. He looked like the type who liked to talk loudly and laugh even louder—and, Rand hoped, someone trustworthy.
"Master Gill?" Rand said, stepping forward. "A friend of ours recommended your inn. Thom Merrilin."
At the name, the innkeeper's smile faltered. His small, sharp eyes flicked from Rand to Mat and then quickly to the case Rand was carrying. The air grew tense all at once.
"Is something wrong?" Rand asked. "Do you know him?"
"I do," Gill replied, his tone dry and almost curt. His gaze lingered on the flute case more than on their faces. "Come with me."
He didn't wait for an answer. With a nod of his head, he gestured for them to follow him toward the back of the inn. Rand gave Mat a look—Mat still seemed more interested in the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen than the conversation. With a discreet tug, Rand got him moving.
As they passed through the kitchen, Master Gill stopped briefly to exchange a few words with the cook—a solid-looking woman with her hair in a tight bun and nearly as wide as the innkeeper himself. After that, he ushered them quickly through the back door into the cobbled courtyard of the stables. There, he cast glances in every direction, making sure they were alone, before turning to Rand with an inquisitive look.
"What's in the case, boy?"
"Thom's flute," Rand replied cautiously. He opened the case slowly, revealing the beautiful flute inlaid with gold and silver—a rare and unmistakable item for anyone who knew Thom. Mat's hand slid discreetly into his coat, as if expecting things to turn ugly.
Gill didn't take his eyes off the flute.
"Yes... I recognize it. Saw Thom play it many times. There's nothing else like it outside a royal court." His eyes sharpened like knives. "How did you get it? Thom would sooner lose an arm than give that flute away."
Rand swallowed hard and pulled the patchwork cloak from his back, unfolding it to reveal the colorful fabric and the edge of the harp case.
"He left it with me… Thom is dead, Master Gill," Mat added, his voice flat, lifeless.
Gill frowned.
"Dead, you say? How?"
"A man attacked us. Thom saved us, gave us the flute, and told us to run." Rand clenched his fists at the memory.
Gill slowly shook his head.
"I'll believe that when I see a body. Thom's harder to kill than you think, boys."
"I keep saying he's not dead," Rand snapped, irritation rising. "Mat, please, enough. Even Helena, who's always had patience for his nonsense, is starting to get annoyed."
The innkeeper sighed deeply and gave Mat a long look.
"Maybe he'll show up here in Caemlyn," Rand added.
"Caemlyn?" Gill raised an eyebrow. "That's the last place I'd expect to find Thom… except maybe Tar Valon." He paused as a stable boy passed by leading a horse, then lowered his voice. "I suppose you've had trouble with the Aes Sedai?"
"Yes," Mat grunted, just as Rand said:
"Why do you ask?"
Gill let out a short laugh.
"I know Thom. He'd dive headfirst into that kind of trouble—especially for two boys like you." His eyes drifted into old memories, but soon returned to seriousness. "Now… I'm not accusing anyone, but… either of you… happen to be able to, let's say… channel?"
Rand went pale. His blood turned cold.
"No! Nothing like that!" he answered too quickly. "There was even an Aes Sedai helping us."
Gill watched them silently for a few seconds before nodding.
"You seem decent enough. And if you're friends of Thom's, that's good enough for me. But… can you pay?"
"We can." Rand pulled out the pouch. "We want two rooms, side by side and away from the other guests."
"All right. I'll have them prepared. But first, come eat."
He led them back to the hall and seated them at a secluded table in a dark corner, away from curious eyes. He sat with them, his back to the wall, eyes scanning the room.
"Now, why don't you tell me everything? If I'm getting involved, I want to know what I'm stepping into."
Rand summarized their story, omitting anything about the One Power but mentioning the Trollocs, the Fades, their desperate flight, and even how he found Helena and took her under his protection. He told of being separated from the others and of the plan to head to Caemlyn and then to Tar Valon.
Gill listened in silence. When Rand finished, he grumbled:
"Helping you might bring me trouble. But it wouldn't be the first time. No bloody Darkfriend is going to make me turn my back on a friend of Thom Merrilin. Now, this girl from the north… if she arrives in Caemlyn, I'll know."
"And Elaida?" Rand asked quietly.
Gill hesitated. Then shook his head.
"I don't think so. Maybe… if you weren't connected to Thom. She's clever. She'd figure that out in an instant. The problem, lad, is you've stumbled into politics. And politics is like a misty swamp, full of venomous snakes."
Rand opened his mouth to ask something, but Gill suddenly straightened. His chair creaked under the weight.
The cook had appeared in the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on her apron. Seeing the innkeeper alert, she gestured to him urgently.
Gill grumbled.
"Might as well be married to her…"
And with a final warning glance at the boys, he headed toward the kitchen, leaving them alone with the steaming plates that had just arrived.