You-ooooh-ooeeooh set my soul alight, WOTers, and so I have crafted yet another Wheel of Time Re-read, just for you. Now give me a pony!
Today’s entry covers Chapter 22 and 23 of Towers of Midnight, in which pretty much everyone has entitlement issues, or in some cases lack of entitlement issues (ha, that’s a pun), and some people’s issues annoy me a LOT more than others’ do.
What can I say, I feel entitled to make my own decisions on who I think IS a total douchenozzle, and who isn’t. Also, where’s my damn pony?
Previous re-read entries are here. The Wheel of Time Master Index is here, which has links to news, reviews, interviews, and all manner of information about the Wheel of Time in general, including the upcoming final volume, A Memory of Light.
This re-read post contains spoilers for all currently published Wheel of Time novels. If you haven’t read, read at your own risk.
And now, the post!
Chapter 22: The End of a Legend
Gawyn walks the Tower grounds, aimless now that he is forbidden from guarding Egwene’s door, and then goes back to find several Younglings dicing with some of the Tower Guard. He reprimands them for behavior unbecoming to Warder hopefuls, but when one of the men (Celark) confesses that some of the Younglings are now rethinking their ambitions to become Warders, he offers to speak with the Guard commander about letting those Youngling who want to remain soldiers join the Guard instead. Grateful, Celark asks if Gawyn will be joining them, but Gawyn answers he is on another path, and leaves. He goes to visit Bryne, to find the general making plans to defend Tar Valon itself against a Trolloc incursion.
It wasn’t until Gawyn stood there—smelling the musty scent of old paper and burning candles—that he felt the reality of the impending war. It was coming soon. The Dragon would break the seals of the Dark One’s prison. The place he had told Egwene to meet him, the Field of Merrilor, was marked in bright red on the maps. It was north, on the border of Shienar.
The Dark One. Loose upon the world. Light! It made Gawyn’s own problems insignificant.
Gawyn asks for Bryne’s advice on what to do about Egwene and her refusal to let Gawyn protect her. Bryne points out that the last time Gawyn decided to help Egwene against her wishes, they almost wrecked her attempt to reunite the Tower. Gawyn complains that Egwene makes no sense to him, and Bryne asks what he wants. Gawyn answers, to be Egwene’s Warder, but Bryne counters that he thought he wanted to marry her, and comments that those are two different things. He asks what Gawyn wants besides Egwene, and Gawyn answers, nothing. Bryne tells him this is his problem. He says that Gawyn has always acted with passion, but because his instincts are good, Gawyn has rarely had to deal with what happens when his passion leads him astray.
“A man is more than one drive, one goal. No woman wants that in a man. It seems to me that men who spend time making something of themselves—rather than professing their devotion—are the ones who get somewhere. Both with women, and with life itself.”
Siuan enters and (having been eavesdropping) ribs Bryne lightly for thinking he understands women, and then chastises Gawyn for thinking he could give orders to the Amyrlin. Gawyn leaves hastily, and wanders the halls until he finds himself near Egwene’s quarters. He realizes where he is and is about to leave when he hears footfalls. He peeks around the corner, but sees no one. Then he notices a patch of shadow near Egwene’s door which is difficult to focus on.
There was a flash of movement, and something spun in the air. Gawyn threw himself to the side, and steel struck stone. One boot on, he dropped the other as he pulled his sword free. The knife that had been thrown for his heart skidded across the tiled floor.
A figure in black flees down the corridor, and Gawyn chases it, bellowing an alarm. He loses the assassin for a moment, and then thinks to check the shadows. The assassin leaps out of the darkness next to a doorway and attacks with blinding speed, and Gawyn barely holds him off. The assassin flings another knife and runs again, too fast to be natural, and Gawyn loses him again. Chubain arrives and sends guards after the assassin, and Gawyn suddenly thinks that perhaps he had encountered the assassin on the way out rather than in. He sprints for Egwene’s quarters and barges inside, only to find himself trussed and gagged in Air and Egwene herself, wide awake and very displeased.
Incognito, Mat sits in an inn in Low Caemlyn, feeling naked without his medallion, talking to an old war vet named Chet. Chet is telling him that there are a lot of people asking about the leader of the Band, but advises Mat that he’d be a fool to go after him.
“Prince of Ravens, Lord of Luck. He faced old death himself and diced for his future, he did. Ain’t never lost a fight.”
Mat reflects on all the crazy stories he’s heard about both himself and Rand, as well as the sketches of himself circulating, and thinks that the larger his reputation grows, the more likely it is he’ll be challenged over it. Noal joins him, and comments that soon Mat will be more famous than Jain Farstrider, and also that Jain used to complain that fame isn’t nearly what it’s cracked up to be. Thom arrives next, and ribs Mat laughingly for his lofty exalted reputation. Noal says they know where the tower is now, but not how to get in; Mat counters that they know how, through the game, but Noal is skeptical.
“That game can’t be won, Mat,” Noal said, rubbing his leathery chin.
“And that’s the point of it. You need to cheat.”
Thom suggests trying to find out what they want, in order to make a deal. Mat replies that the Aelfinn and Eelfinn had to know they were coming, just as they’d known Moiraine was, and yet answered both Moiraine’s and Mat’s questions anyway; what they want is them. He opines that they can’t surprise the creatures unless they break the rules. Thom is reluctant, but Mat reminds him Moiraine specifically mentioned the game in her letter.
“She knows there’s no way to win when dealing with them,” Mat said. “No trades, Thom, no bargains. We go in fighting and we don’t leave until we have her.”
He offers to let Noal out of it, but Noal refuses, saying this is something he needs to do. Mat says they’ll bring lanterns and torches as well as some of Aludra’s fireworks for the “fire to blind.” Thom is appalled to realize Mat has the fireworks with him, and scoots away from his chair. Thom is bringing his harp and flute as well as several percussion instruments for “music to dazzle,” and Noal contributes throwing knives, shortswords, and chains made of pure iron for “iron to bind,” as well as an iron band to clip onto Mat’s spear. They reflect in silence on the task ahead of them.
That place was another world. The preparations he did with Thom and Noal might help, but they might also be useless. There was no telling until they stepped into that tower. It felt like not knowing if you had the right antidote until after the snake’s teeth were already clamped down on your arm.
Noal and Thom leave for the Band’s camp, taking the fireworks with them, and Mat wanders the streets for a while, ruminating on his life, until he suddenly remembers there is one person who knows more about the Aelfinn and Eelfinn: Birgitte. He heads for the Palace, unnerved by the unusually quiet streets, and is relieved to come across a mugging in progress. He quickly dispatches the thugs, killing one. He helps up the victim, who recognizes Mat and promptly attacks him. Mat fends him off and throws two knives, which to his shock pierce each of the man’s eyes. He finds a sketch of himself in the dead man’s possession and quickly leaves.
Birgitte watches a “play” with Elayne (a new entertainment she disapproves of) and reflects that even though she shouldn’t have her memories of her past lives, it still terrifies her every time one fades away; she feels like she has no place in the Pattern the way she is. She and another Guardswoman, Kaila Bent, make fun of the “play,” but Birgitte observes how Elayne has used it to get Ellorien in the same room with her.
She shook her head. Elayne was a queen. Volatility and all. She’d be good for Andor. Assuming Birgitte could keep that golden-haired head from being lopped off its neck.
Kaila returns and reports a disturbance at the Plum Gate; someone tried to sneak through and is now being held at the gatehouse. Birgitte takes the opportunity to escape and goes to check it out herself. She finds a wiry man with a scarf covering his face dicing with the guards who are supposed to be holding him.
“You could charm the helmet off a general on a battlefield, couldn’t you, Mat?” she said.
“Mat?” the man asked in a familiar voice. “I don’t know what you mean, my good woman. My name is Garard, a simple beggar who has a quite interesting past, if you care to listen to it—”
She eyed him with a firm gaze.
“Oh, bloody ashes, Birgitte,” he complained, taking off the scarf. “I only wanted to get warm for a spell.”
“And win the coin off my men.”
“A friendly game never hurt a man,” Mat said.
She tells the men they can release “Master Cauthon” to her custody, and one of them recognizes the name as belonging to “the Raven Prince.” Mat stalks out in a huff, and complains to Birgitte that he’s getting “too bloody famous” for his own good. Birgitte advises him to wait until it tracks him across generations. Mat drags her out for a drink, though she warns him she won’t be drinking alcohol for fear it will affect Elayne’s babies. Mat confesses he came to see her, not Elayne, and Birgitte almost leaves when she realizes he wants to talk about the Tower of Ghenjei, but Mat convinces her to hear him out, and tells her a friend of his is trapped there, and he owes her a debt. Birgitte tells him they’ll never get anywhere if they go through the portals, and Mat asks about going in through the tower. Birgitte tells him that way the treaties won’t be in effect, so the creatures are free to draw blood, and they will still win. Mat asks about cheating with iron, music and fire, and Birgitte says that even then, only one out of thousand will make it out.
He hesitated, then fished a small handful of coins out of his pocket. “What do you think the odds are that if I toss these into the air, they will all come up heads? One in a thousand?”
He tossed them above the table. They came down in a spray, hitting the tabletop. Not a single one of them bounced or rolled from the table onto the floor.
Mat didn’t look down at the coins. He met her eyes as they all rolled and vibrated to a stop. She glanced at them. Two dozen coins. Each had landed face up.
“One in a thousand is good odds,” he said. “For me.”
Exasperated, Birgitte points out that even Mat misses once in a while, but he replies that he has to take the chance, and asks how she knows so much about it. She tells him that she’d gone in, in one of her past lives, and that she and Gaidal had both died inside; she is rather irked that that particular legend did not survive. Mat is unnerved by her story, but undeterred. Birgitte tells him that iron, fire and music will help, but be less effective the longer they are used. Mat asks what they want.
“Emotion,” Birgitte said. “That’s why they built portals into our world, that’s why they entice us in. They feed off what we feel. They like Aes Sedai in particular, for some reason. Perhaps those with the One Power taste like a strong ale."
Mat shivered visibly.
She warns him that the inside will be confusing, but if he can reach the grand hall he’ll be able to make a deal, though she never made it. Mat is further unnerved to hear she was lost in the tower for over two months before dying, and comments that Moiraine had better appreciate his efforts. They are interrupted when Birgitte feels a jolt of anger and pain from Elayne, and she and Mat dash out.
YAY, MAT AND BIRGITTE. They are still my very favorite friendship in all of WOT, and pretty darn high on my list of best relationships overall, romantic or otherwise. I grinned like a loon when Birgitte found Mat in the guardhouse and knew immediately who he was. They are just fun together, and I heart them.
That said, 90% of Mat’s POV in this chapter was pure infodumping on the topic of How You’re Probably Going To Die Horribly In Alternate Dimensions, Yay. This is not to disparage it on its merits, necessarily, because that information needed to be gotten across, and I enjoyed it perfectly well the first time around, but it’s the kind of thing that I rather wish I’d been able to skim over now that I already know this stuff.
But no, I had to summarize it this time. My life of hardship, how do I stand it. Woe.
Also, it’s adorable how Mat thinks there’s any chance that that ball o’ fame is going to stop rolling now it’s gotten started. Sorry, dude, that cat is pretty firmly out of the bag: you’re a living legend whether you want to be or not.
There was a lot of commentary in this chapter, in fact, about the not-always-awesome consequences of being a living legend, not just from Mat but from Noal/Jain, who certainly knows a thing or two about the subject, and from Birgitte, who is the actual literal version of the term. (Though it was kind of hilarious that Birgitte was simultaneously disgruntled that one of her legends had been forgotten.)
But even acknowledging the sucky aspects of it, I still admit to a certain perverse vicarious delight in Mat’s fame anyway. Shame on me!
Gawyn: *headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk*
The Dark One. Loose upon the world. Light! It made Gawyn’s own problems insignificant.
AND YET YOU CONTINUE TO NOT SHUT UP ABOUT THEM. GRARGHGHRHHBLARGLEAAAAHHHH
Sheesh. At least Bryne is there to speak sweet, sweet words of not-stupidity, even if Gawyn doesn’t listen. Because, dude: thank you. Exactly.
You know, I remember that the big upcoming showdown with the Black Knives (or whatever they’re called) and Gawyn induced me to mostly forgive him for his asshattery on first reading, but I’m really wondering whether that feeling will survive this more detailed examination of how incredibly much Gawyn is That Guy. We shall see, I suppose.
Chapter 23: Foxheads
At the play, Elayne carefully ignores Ellorien and examines Mat’s medallion, marveling at the intricacy of its creation, far outstripping the dream rings’. She has a copy in her pouch, but it does not deflect more powerful weaves like the original, and also one cannot channel while holding the copy as one can with the original. Frustrated, she briefly toys with the idea of giving a copy to Mat and keeping the original, but firmly squashes the temptation and puts them both away. The play ends, and Elayne claps politely before exiting to a sitting room, other guests following. Elayne ignores Ellorien again, talking to Sylvase Caeren instead, who asks icily why Ellorien was invited.
“House Caeren was at odds with Trakand once, too,” Elayne said. “Often, those whose loyalty is most difficult to win are the most valuable once it is yours.”
To herself, she thinks it is also about righting the wrongs her mother did to Andor while under Gaebril’s influence. Sylvase asks how her secretary is doing, and Elayne replies “well enough,” though she hasn’t allowed him to do anything too “drastic” yet in his questioning of the prisoners. She thinks it is a conundrum; the Black sisters know their fate is sealed, so they have no reason to talk to her unless she either bargains with them or tortures them, and she is not sure she wants to stoop to the latter or even if it will do any good, since Ispan had had some kind of binding on her that prevented her from talking anyway. Then a thought occurs to her, and she excuses herself to Sylvase. She goes to leave without speaking to Ellorien, and then Ellorien stops her to demand if she was invited only to be ignored.
“Not at all,” Elayne said. “I was merely under the impression that you would have a more pleasant time if I did not force you to interact with me. This evening was not intended for political purposes.”
Ellorien frowned. “Well what was it for, then?”
“To enjoy a good ballad, Lady Ellorien,” Elayne said. “And, perhaps, to remind you of days when you often enjoyed entertainment in the company of House Trakand.” She smiled and nodded slightly, then left.
Let her think about that, Elayne thought with satisfaction.
Kaila tells Elayne Birgitte has gone to the gates to “question” Matrim Cauthon, which Elayne interprets to mean they have gone out drinking. She sends for a black cloak, and embraces the Source, though it takes three tries, and weaves the Mirror of Mists to make herself appear as a frightening, red-eyed, faceless figure before inverting the weaves and tying them off. She instructs her guards to leave her and to turn off the lights, over their protests. She then Travels from the room to the dungeon cell where Chesmal is incarcerated. On seeing her, Chesmal prostrates herself, and Elayne thunders imprecations at her for allowing herself to be captured, and demands to know what she has done that she should be allowed to live. Chesmal wails that she has discovered that one of the two men who must be killed “at all costs” is in Caemlyn; Elayne recognizes Mat from her description, and demands to know how Chesmal knows about him, since Mat had not arrived in the city until after the Black sisters’ imprisonment. Chesmal says they are planning an assassination, and is confused when Elayne asks how she can do that from a prison cell; Elayne then curses herself for the slip.
“Great One,” Chesmal said. “I have been following my orders carefully. We are almost in a position to begin the invasion, as commanded. Soon, Andor will be awash with the blood of our enemies and the Great Lord shall reign in fire and ash. We will see it done.”
This alarms Elayne considerably. Then Chesmal asks if Elayne is the same Chosen who visited before, and Elayne whips her with Air and says she must test Chesmal’s ignorance. Chesmal says she knows the deadline is approaching, but before she can say more, Sylvase’s secretary enters with Temaile and Eldrith. Temaile kneels immediately, but Eldrith hesitates, and Elayne shields her. Eldrith shouts that she is a dupe before Elayne can gag her, though, and Temaile and Chesmal both go to attack. Elayne shields Chesmal, and Temaile’s weaves bounce off the medallion, but the secretary attacks her physically, knocking her down.
Pain laced out from her shoulder, and she felt something crack. Her shoulder bone? The babes! she thought immediately. It was a primal flash of horror and instant terror that defied all thoughts about Min and viewings. In her surprise, she let go of the gateway leading back to her room above. It winked out.
She throws the secretary off her, but he grabs the medallion and takes it with him, and Elayne and Temaile get into a standoff, which Elayne soon wins, knocking Temaile unconscious. The secretary bolts for the door, and Elayne throws Chesmal at him. He goes down, and Elayne binds all of them and retrieves the medallion, now in considerable pain, and knows Birgitte is on her way.
“Hello, my Queen,” a man’s voice whispered in her ear right before a second pain blossomed in her side. She gasped, stumbling forward. A hand reached out and yanked the medallion from her fingers.
Elayne sees it is Doilin Mellar, and realizes she’s lost Chesmal’s shield. Chesmal shields her.
She couldn’t die. Min had said… We could be misinterpreting. Birgitte’s voice returned to her. Any number of things could still go wrong.
Mellar then demands that Chesmal Heal her, to Chesmal’s outrage; he retorts that Elayne was promised to him, and he won’t let her die until he’s had time to “enjoy” her. Chesmal tells Elayne that she’d saw through the ruse the whole time as she goes to Heal her, and Elayne remembers she still has the medallion copy.
Elayne’s veins became ice water, her body overwhelmed by a wave of Power. She drew in a deep breath, the agony in her side and shoulder vanishing.
“There,” Chesmal said. “Now, quickly, we need to—”
Elayne whipped free the other medallion and held it up. By reflex, Chesmal grabbed it. That made the woman unable to channel. Her weaves vanished, including Elayne’s shield.
Elayne sets Chesmal on fire, and tries to do the same to Mellar, but he is holding the original medallion, so it doesn’t work. She pushes Eldrith (who is still shielded and tied) between them, and Mellar leaps forward and slits Eldrith’s throat, and then apologizes, saying “orders are orders” before stabbing Temaile as well. Desperate to keep him from taking the medallions, Elayne weaves Earth to pull the ceiling down on him, but he scrambles out from the rockfall and flees. Then she sees he’d left one of the medallions behind, and Elayne is deeply relieved to find it is the original. Mat and Birgitte arrive soon after, and tell her the Guards and Kin on guard at the dungeon are all dead.
Elayne pressed her hands to her abdomen. Her babes would be all right, wouldn’t they? “I did something very rash, Birgitte, and I know that you are going to scream at me for it. But would you first please take me to my rooms? I think we should have Melfane look at me. Just in case.”
An hour after the assassination attempt, Egwene comes back to her rooms where Gawyn is waiting for her. She asks if he realizes what he’s done, and replies he saw an assassin outside the door of the woman he loves and went to check on her. Egwene counters that he sprung her trap, and now everyone, including the assassin probably, knows about it.
“Light, Egwene! You talk as if I did it on purpose. I was only trying to protect you.”
“I didn’t ask for your protection! I asked for your obedience! Gawyn, don’t you see the opportunity we’ve missed? If you hadn’t scared Mesaana away, she’d have walked into my traps!”
Gawyn counters that it wasn’t Mesaana, it was a man who fought with a sword, and Egwene asks what he would have done if it had been Mesaana, besides die; Gawyn has no answer for that. She says the murderer will be more careful now, and more people may die because of Gawyn. Furious, Gawyn tells her that if she can’t stand to be looked after, then maybe no man would do to be her Warder. Egwene replies that perhaps he is right, and leaves. Gawyn slips out while she is occupied and finds Chubain, who shows him the knife the assassin had thrown, which is inset with three blood-colored stones. He keeps the knife, and discusses his offer to the Younglings who don’t want to be Warders; Chubain accepts the proposal, and Gawyn asks him to watch over the Amyrlin. Chubain asks where he will be.
“She made it clear that she wants no Warder,” Gawyn said, his mind drifting back to the things Bryne had said to him earlier. What did he want, aside from Egwene? Perhaps it was time to find out. “I think it’s past time I went to visit my sister.”
He gathers his things and goes to the Traveling ground, where he has the sister on duty make him a gateway to Caemlyn.
Lan is incensed to see that old Nazar, one of three newcomers who’d simply started riding with him without asking permission, is carrying a flag of Malkier in his saddlebags, but Nazar ignores him. Lan stalks back to camp, only to find that eight more men (three Malkieri merchants and five Shienarans) have appeared there. Andere shrugs that they met them earlier and suggested they wait on the roadway to meet them. The merchants kneel to Lan, weeping, and say they have brought what they could to the cause of the Golden Crane. Lan starts to tell them he doesn’t need what they brought, but Andere stops him and directs his attention past the trees.
Two dozen wagons were approaching, each piled high with supplies—weapons, sacks of grain, tents. Lan opened his eyes wide. A good dozen warhorses were hitched in a line, and strong oxen pulled the wagons. Teamsters and servants walked alongside them.
“When they said they sold what they could and brought supplies,” Andere said, “they meant it.”
Lan complains that they will never be able to move with stealth now, and Andere shrugs. At length, Lan decides they will pose as a Shienaran supply caravan, and tells the others they will swear not to reveal who he is or send word to anyone else.
Nazar looked like he would object, but Lan silenced him with a stern look. One by one, they swore.
The five had become dozens, but it would stop there.
Holy hell, this was the chapter that would not frickin’ end.
Okay, let’s deal with Elayne first. I can just see the anti-Elayners lining up at the comment gate, so we might as well get that done right off.
And here’s my thing: did she act stupidly? Hell to the yes she did. No question, no argument from me on that score.
HOWEVER, the subterfuge itself wasn’t actually a bad idea, in my opinion. Ethically responsible, even, as an alternative to torture. Where Elayne was stupid was in insisting on going in and doing it herself, with no backup and no fallback plan. That part was just rank foolishness, and there’s no excuse for it.
In my view, Murphy’s Law isn’t so much a manifesto on futility as it is a caution to prepare for any eventuality, especially when it comes to tactics. So sure, the odds against Lounalt (the secretary) waltzing in there with Eldrith and Temaile in tow right when Elayne was busy impersonating a Forsaken might be astronomically high, but if you PREPARE for as many eventualities as you can, even the wildly improbable ones, then maybe your ass will not end up grass quite so often, hmm?
At the very least, you have to assume that your mission will go belly-up in some way that you can’t foresee, and attempt to have some kind of panic button in place for when that happens. And no, having your psychically-bonded Warder only halfway across town does not count, Elayne. Sheesh. And Elayne had better thank her lucky stars that Mellar ended up holding onto the copy medallion and not the real one.
(You think Mat’s luck rubs off on objects that are important to him? Hmm…)
And again, Elayne justifies her actions to herself by using Min’s viewing, which I think we’ve already pretty well beaten into the ground why that’s a boneheaded idea of epic proportions. No, Elayne, you do get to make things mean only what you want them to mean! Argh.
What I do appreciate is that Elayne’s insane overconfidence was recognized as such by the text, and there were appropriate consequences for it. And, moreover, that Elayne herself does actually learn from the experience (as least as far as I can recall).
Also, I do give Elayne props, at least, for being fairly clever and thinking-on-her-feet once the thing did go FUBAR. I kind of liked, really, that she made both mistakes and brilliant moves in her reactions (I really chuckled when she physically threw Chesmal at Lounalt), which is a hell of a lot more realistic than having everything proceed in a Jackie Chan-like ballet of frictionless wire-assisted kung-fu improbableness. That shit is just boring.
That said, WHY IS MELLAR NOT DEAD YET, THIS IS PISSING ME OFF, I HATE HIM A LOT. That is all.
Also also: Jaq Lounalt, torturer extraordinaire, turns out to be a Darkfriend. I’ll just be over here completely failing to contain my deep and abiding shock at this development.
Also cubed: nice hint at the upcoming Trolloc invasion, which I totally missed the first time around. Like, what Chesmal said didn’t even register with me initially. Bad Leigh, no biscuit. But then, I never see these things coming, so I have no idea why I’m surprised.
Okay, moving on: to Gawyn! Let’s see, what do I have to say here?
*headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk* *headdesk* *head- Oh, wait, you’re leaving? Like, for reals?
You are actually taking Bryne’s advice and getting your supermassive black hole of entitlement issues up out of Egwene’s grill for two seconds? Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle!
I mean, you’re still a douche, dude, but at least you’re being a douche from several hundred miles away now. Words cannot express what an improvement this is.
As for Lan: Hahaha, he is so put upon and adorable. I love how everyone just keeps shrugging at his objections. You’re gonna be a king whether you like it or not, buddy.
This whole storyline is strongly reminding me of something similar, in fact, and I can’t put my finger on what it is. Other than Perrin’s shtick, I mean, or the other involuntary lordenings rather rife in WOT. Any ideas from outside WOT?
Tell me tell me tell me! And in the meantime, have a lovely week, and come back next Tuesday for Moar! With my pony!