AN: I procrastinated like crazy on starting this. You can see why I rarely post chaptered fics. In any event, I'd like to send out a general thanks to all my reviewers. You guys keep me at it.

It's extra long this time. Merry Christmas. I might get the next chapter out before the end of January, since I should have some free time on my hands. We'll see. Otherwise it'll be a reverse birthday present.

WARNING: Rating is a little higher for this chapter because of a word used in the book. Also, SPOILER ALERT if you haven't read this far in KOD.

By the way, ALL CAPS is handtalk between Tuon and Selucia.

Disclaimer: insert standard disclaimer here

A Low Place

Tuon spent that night in contemplation more than in prayer. She did begin with an appeal to the Light. If Tarmon Gai'don was really approaching, as it seemed to be, then her empire would need all the help it could get.

However, she never had been one to sit and hope things worked themselves out. Nor could she worry about the hazy future when she had her own situation to manage. She couldn't suppress the feeling that things were rapidly tumbling out of her control.

Thinking back over the day, she found herself wondering how Toy had known the village was dead. She herself hadn't noticed anything wrong until after Toy pointed it out. How could Tylin's Toy have noticed something she had not? It was simply beyond comprehension.

Since she could not understand it, she brushed the enigma aside and focused on what she could do with what she already knew.

She needed to do something about finding the Dragon Reborn, so she could bring him before the Empress, may she live forever. Granted, it didn't seem likely that he would just amble into the show and ask to see the Empress, but once she was back in the Tarasin Palace she could do something. How could she draw him to her without getting her army slaughtered?

Though that was important, it was not the only thing that must be done. It would be advantageous to complete the Return before Tarmon Gai'don. Trying to fight a war on too many fronts could only end in disaster.

Of more immediate concern was resolving this current situation. She truly believed Toy would send her back. She thought she could trust his word and he seemed to intend to keep it. Before then, she needed to figure out if he was the one. If he was, why? What made him so special? And if not…where was this mysterious man she was destined to marry?

It was time to move things along. She needed to know. And she needed to win this game with no rules.

…...

She opted to keep Toy off-balance the next morning. She began by allowing him to ride beside her, and then refusing to speak. She refused to even smile at his jokes and his juggling, and wondered how he could be so light-hearted after the day before. After all, they had received evidence that the Last Battle was approaching. Add to that, a man had melted before their eyes. Surely Toy should be uneasy, at the very least. But he babbled as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred to give him unpleasant dreams, despite the obvious anxiety displayed by the show-folk.

She found herself becoming unaccountably angry with him due to his attitude. Was he so involved in his own pleasures, his own schemes, that he failed to notice the world around him? Must he really court her so obviously, with such poor sense of timing? Or did he simply not care that she had to bring the Dragon Reborn in front of the Crystal Throne before Tarmon Gai'don? She had more important things to worry about than how many balls he could keep in the air. In the grand scheme of things, it didn't really matter whether she loved or even liked the man she would marry. She just wanted to get this over with so she could do what she had to for the glory of the Empire.

Still…if she was going to remain here, riding her mare until she reached some unknown destination, she should make use of her time. There were things she wanted to learn, while she had the opportunity.

This was a good time to learn about the people she was going to rule for the Empress, may she live forever. Not just to learn, as Setalle Anan could tell her, but to experience. To observe, with her own eyes and ears, and make conjectures based on those observations.

Glancing at Toy, she wondered if she would ever be able to figure out the customs of these people. Every time she thought she had him figured out, he did something to surprise her.

……

They stopped at a town called Maderin around midmorning. Strange occurrences or not, nothing was going to stop Valan Luca from earning a little money. As the showfolk set about preparing for a performance, Tuon handed over her mare and entered her wagon.

Setalle Anan joined her, and they settled to a lively discussion of cultural practices on this side of the Aryth Ocean. When they came to an impasse in their debate, Tuon asked about Setalle's experience as an innkeeper.

"How is an inn different from a tavern?"

"An inn offers rooms to let. A tavern is basically just a common room."

"What is the common room for?"

"Food, drink, business, and games. I would serve a good meal, better than some get at home. And of course, inns and taverns offer many drinks. Wine is considered more the noble's drink, but the common folk drink ale."

"Are there a lot of fights in your inn?"

"Of course not! Whenever a fight started, I removed the perpetrators right away. They can take it outside, but a fight inside my common room chases off other customers. But I run a respectable inn, you know. Not a low place, a 'hell.' I cater to the higher end, merchants and nobles, not scoundrels and cut-throats. Not many scoundrels, anyway. Mat was a special case."

A glimmer of an idea was forming in the back of her mind. Tuon sent Selucia to fetch Toy while she quizzed Setalle. The da'covale had barely left when Setalle shook her head.

"He won't be eager to take you, you know. He's a good man, or as good as most men are, but he's still got some funny notions."

Tuon smiled a little. "Let me worry about that. Or do you think he has no experience with hells?"

"Oh, I'm sure he has. He's the sort who thrives on excitement. He likes to gamble, our Mat, and hells are good places to find a game. I just don't think he'll be willing to take you to one."

"I think you'll find that he'll do it in the end, anyway."

The door opened and Toy entered, looking none-too-pleased at being summoned. At least he had come. They had come a long way from the captor-prisoner relationship with which they had started this journey.

"I wish to visit the common room of an inn," Tuon told him without delay. She made it a demand and not a request. "Or a tavern. I have never seen the inside of either. You will take me to one in this town, Toy."

He seemed to sigh in relief. "That's easy enough. Just as soon as Thom or Juilin let me know it's safe."

He had agreed to the first part easily enough, so she added the second. "It must be a low place. What is called a hell."

She kept her amusement to herself as his mouth dropped open in shock. Tuon wondered whether it was because she wanted to visit such a place or because she knew what one was. Surely she had proved to him already that she was no fragile doll, to sit on a shelf? She broke horses and handled her own assassins, after all. She would like to see Toy manage as much.

Toy turned accusingly to Setalle. "Did you plant this fool notion in her head?"

"Why, what in the Light makes you think that?" Setalle inquired innocently. She hadn't, really. Even if she had, Tuon was perfectly capable of accepting or discarding the notion on her own.

Toy turned back to her and said severely, "It's out of the question, Precious. I walk into a hell with a woman like you, and I'll be in six knife fights inside the hour, if I survive that long."

The back-handed compliment made Tuon smile. As well as the opportunity to see a knife fight. The sort of fights she was used to did not involve knives. "Do you really think so?"

"I know so for a fact."

She waited for the delight he provoked to fade before reminding him, "Even so, Toy, you promised."

He sputtered in indignation for a moment. "I did not! I never agreed to take you to such a place."

"But you agreed to take me to an inn," she pointed out.

"I said it would be easy, but I certainly didn't agree to take you," Toy retorted edgily.

"The agreement was implied, Toy," she informed him. "I wish to see a hell."

"Absolutely not!" he shot back.

"Shouting won't make you right, you know. You did agree, and that is all there is to the matter," she replied equably.

He was sputtering some more, plainly casting about for some valid argument, when someone knocked at the door. Tuon paused for a moment before needling Toy with a reminder of good manners. "You see, Toy, that is how it is done. You knock and then wait."

Over her shoulder, she gestured to Selucia. ALLOW ENTRY.

Her maid straightened and called, "You may enter the presence." She acted just as if this were the receiving room of a palace and not a cramped wagon. That was well. It was Tuon's presence that mattered, not her surroundings.

Merrilin entered and bowed to her politely. Now there was a man who knew how to mind his manners. Even if he didn't necessarily mean them, he still did all the right things.

"My Lady," he greeted her before turning to Toy. "Harnan said he saw you strolling this way. I trust I'm not interrupting? I heard…voices."

Toy scowled at the deliberate pause. "You're not interrupting. What did you find out?"

"That there may be Seanchan in the town from time to time. No soldiers, but it seems they're building two farm villages a few miles to the north of the road and three more a few miles south. The villagers come to town to buy things now and then."

Toy was not quite able to smother his triumph as he said to her, "I'm afraid there's no jaunt into Maderin for you, Precious. Too dangerous."

Tuon folded her arms to let him know how she disdained his logic. "Farmers, Toy. No farmer has ever seen my face. You promised me a tavern or a common room, and you won't escape on this puny excuse."

"A common room should present no difficulties," Merrilin said before Toy could protest. "It's a pair of scissors or a new pot these farmers are after, not drink. They make their own ale, it seems, and don't much like the local brew."

Toy was not one to give in gracefully. "Thank you, Thom. She wants to see a hell."

Merrilin covered a laugh with a cough and knuckled his mustaches, but Tuon didn't care what he thought. He wasn't the one she needed to convince. "A hell," he repeated.

"A hell. Do you know a hell in this town where I might take her without starting a riot?"

Merrilin nodded after a moment. "I might just know a place at that," he admitted, speaking at a pace that was almost understandable. "The White Ring. I intend to go there anyway, to see what news I can pick up."

Toy blinked and appeared to consider before asking, "Should I get Harnan and the others?"

"Oh, I think you and I should be protection enough for the Lady," Merrilin said with a smile. That seemed to alleviate Toy's uneasiness.

He sighed. "Very well."

Tuon did not smile in her victory. Instead, she simply turned to Setalle. "Did you want to come along, Mistress Anan?" she asked graciously.

That seemed to amuse the woman. "Not this time. I've seen quite enough hells to last a lifetime."

"You'll need to keep your hood up, Precious," Toy added as Tuon and Selucia began preparing for their outing. "There's no telling how many farmers might have seen you without you knowing."

Tuon was becoming exasperated with his caution. "Toy, I have met many farmers while visiting the country, but they very properly kept their eyes on the ground even if I allowed them to stand. Believe me, they never saw my face." He seemed a bit taken aback at that, for he had no reply.

Toy took her hand and placed it on his wrist. Tuon considered the gesture, and decided the escort was not inadvisable. He was doing what she wanted, after all, and it would be wise to let him have his way a little.

The walk to town was not long. It took longer to get out of the busy show than to actually cross the distance to the gate. The guards there let them in without any of the respectable behavior to which Tuon was accustomed. Eyeing their ragged line and poor postures, she supposed she should be surprised that they even managed to put their boots on the right feet. Whoever trained these men obviously cared nothing for discipline.

For some reason, Thom Merrilin stopped to talk with the head of the guards, so Toy halted them as well.

"A heavy guard, Captain. Are there brigands in the area?"

"No outlaws around here," replied an older guard. "The Seanchan cleaned out the few we hadn't caught. Move along, now, old fellow. You're blocking the way." This was obviously a falsehood. Tuon wondered why the man was so bothered by the question.

"The Seanchan said we didn't set enough guards," a younger fellow spoke up, "and Lord Nathin listens close when the Seanchan talk." Tuon would have nodded at that, if she weren't listening so closely to the conversation. It was well that these people learned to serve and obey.

The older guard struck the speaker on the back of the head, making him stagger. "You watch your mouth with people from off, Keilar, else you'll be back behind a plow before you can blink. My Lord," he called toward Toy, "you want to call your servant before he gets himself in trouble."

"My apologies, Captain," Merrilin said quickly. He did a very good impression of a humble servant properly chided. Once again, Tuon made note of the man's exquisite acting ability. This man was far more than he appeared. Come to think of it, what was he claiming to be? A gleeman? That couldn't be right. "No offense meant. My apologies."

As soon as Merrilin reached the three of them, Toy rebuked him, "He would have thumped you, too, if I hadn't been here. He almost did, anyway. And what did you learn that was worth risking that?" Interesting that Toy understood that, despite his denial of nobility.

"I wouldn't have asked without you, in that coat," Merrilin replied cheerfully as he led the way into town. "The first lesson is what questions to ask. The second, and just as important, is when and how to ask. I learned there aren't any brigands, which is always good to know, though I've heard of very few bands big enough to attack something as large as the show. I learned Nathin is under the Seanchan thumb. Either he's obeying a command with those extra guards, or he takes their suggestions as commands. And more important, I learned that Nathin's armsmen don't resent the Seanchan."

While Toy expressed disbelief, Tuon marveled at how much this man gleaned from a few casual sentences. He was obviously a very good spy. She almost wished he could be one of her Listeners.

"They didn't spit when they said his name, Mat. They didn't grimace or growl. They won't fight the Seanchan, not unless Nathin tells them to, and he won't." He sighed. "It's very strange. I've found the same everywhere from Ebou Dar to here. These outlanders come, take charge, impose their laws, snatch up women who can channel, and if the nobles resent them, very few among the common people seem to. Unless they've had a wife or relation collared, anyway. Very strange, and it bodes ill for getting them out again. But then, Altara is Altara. I'll wager they're finding a colder reception in Amadicia and Tarabon. We'd best hope they are, else…" He trailed off, but he didn't not need to speak his thought aloud for Tuon to follow it.

She found it very strange that these people were so adamant about resisting Seanchan rule. They were the rightful rulers, after all, returning after a thousand years. Everything had been theirs once, and would be again. But they were not cruel masters. Why should the common people complain? Life under the Empire was fair. Everybody might have to work, but everybody also ate and slept under a sturdy roof. Once a place had been pacified, most of the common folk didn't even need to worry about being assaulted in some way. The army was disciplined and skilled. Crime was negligible, since criminals were quickly apprehended and sold as property. Sometimes it took communities a little while to adjust to the idea of selling people, but it was no different than the current local institution of servitude. As for marath'damane, well, they would eventually see why it was necessary. It was always hard to realize that a loved one was not what you thought, but most soon came to realize that it was better this way. Left alone, many marath'damane would die, anyway.

It must just be stubbornness, she supposed. These people were used to living life one way, and were opposed to the idea of the Return. They simply needed to be brought to understand that life wouldn't change much, except for the better.

There wasn't much she could do about that, now, so Tuon redirected her attention to her surroundings. The three and four story buildings were nothing like what was in Seanchan, and they were even different from the buildings in Ebou Dar. However, that was not what caught her interest. What she noticed were the people. Never before had she walked a town without all the people stopping to kneel and hide their faces. Usually she didn't walk through towns at all. So this was a new experience. Men and women hurried by without taking any apparent notice of her at all. She wasn't sure she liked the feeling of being ignored.

She saw children dashing about playing some game, and wondered what the rules were. The only game she had played as a child was Stones. Daes Dae'mar didn't count. She pondered the ridiculous statement that a man could sharpen knives to cut wishes, wondering who would believe such a tale. A woman with two swords on her back caught her eye and was dismissed. When she saw the woman in the sheer red dress, she paused to wonder how she would look in such a garment but she hardly thought it was decent on anything but da'covale. She saw more vendors than she had ever seen in her life. She drank in every moment like a strange new wine. This experience was already liberating, and they had not even reached the hell yet.

Merrilin led them along alleys and narrow twisting streets. Tuon wondered how he knew where they were. Half the time she couldn't even see the sun in the constricted patch of visible sky. Whenever someone pushing a barrow or cart came along, Toy pushed her against the wall out of the way. She didn't really appreciate being manhandled like that. She was perfectly capable of getting herself out of the way. Then again, arguing at this point would serve no purpose.

Finally, they arrived at the White Ring. Tuon considered the sign—a lace ring—and decided it looked like a dubious place. Toy checking his knives so obviously only confirmed it.

"Ah, yes. A wise precaution," Merrilin muttered. He went through the ritual of checking his own knives. Idly, Tuon wondered how many weapons the two men had between them.

She was not the only one to notice their behavior. Selucia was not quite so fond of this adventure as her mistress. MY LADY, IF THIS PLACE IS REALLY SO DANGEROUS, PERHAPS WE OUGHT NOT ENTER.

Tuon replied without hesitation. DON'T BE SILLY. WE HAVE COME THIS FAR. I WISH TO SEE THIS PLACE.

I AM IN CHARGE OF YOUR SAFETY. I DO NOT LIKE THIS PLACE.

I THINK IT LOOKS EXCITING. BESIDES, TOY WILL NOT LET ANY HARM COME TO ME.

HE DID NOT WISH TO BRING YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE. PERHAPS IT WAS BECAUSE HE KNEW HE COULD NOT KEEP YOU SAFE.

ENOUGH. I WISH TO ENTER AND THAT IS THAT. IT WILL BE WELL.

Selucia surrendered with ill grace, lowering her eyes. It was not really her place to argue with Tuon, even over the latter's safety. To let her know there were no hard feelings, and to reassure her as hand-talk had not, Tuon said, "It will be well. You will see. It will be well."

Toy seemed to take some heart from her words as well. He offered her his wrist again and led her inside. Within was a paneled room with many small tables. A woman was singing near the fireplace, and there were perhaps twenty or thirty men and women seated about the room. As eager as Tuon was to see a common room, it did not look like the sort of place where fights were likely to happen. Where were the stains, the rickety furniture, the patched or ragged clothes? This was not at all what she was expecting from a low place.

"Are you certain this is a hell, Master Merrilin?" she asked softly.

"I assure you, you won't find a bigger collection of thieves and rascals anywhere in Maderin at this hour," Merrilin answered in a muffled voice.

Tuon noted his choice of wording but did not dispute it. She walked over to view the singer, who sang in a coarse voice. Tuon would never consider buying a da'covale with such a poor sense of pitch and rhythm. Either the patrons did not care how badly she sang, or they were more interested in the woman's state of undress. Tuon listened closely to the words—the normally fast speech these people affected was further mangled by putting words to a melody—and managed not to react when she realized it was about a girl with far too many lovers. In comparison with the object of her song, the singer seemed almost a proper, respectable woman.

Satisfied that at the very least the inn was a little bit disreputable, Tuon returned to Toy and Merrilin. "I expected rougher garb on the patrons, and perhaps a fight or two, but the song is too salacious for a respectable inn. Though she is much too covered to sing it properly, in my opinion. What is that for?" she demanded when Toy handed a coin to Merrilin.

"Oh, I thought you might be disappointed that only the more successful blackguards were present—they aren't always so colorful as the poorer sort—but Mat said you'd never notice," Merrilin said off-handedly as he tucked the coin away.

Tuon glared at Toy, who seemed about to speak and thought better of it. He glanced away and watched the innkeeper, a round woman in a gray dress, approach. Merrilin slipped away with a murmured, "By your leave, my Lord, my Lady."

The woman curtsied deeply and asked what they wished. Toy asked for wine, but Tuon meant to make the most of this experience. She over-rode his order calmly. "Ale. I've never tasted ale. Tell me, good mistress, is it likely any of these people will start a fight any time soon?"

The woman seemed taken aback at the question. Misinterpreting the motive behind the question, she assured Tuon, "No need to worry, my Lady. It happens from time to time, if they get too far in their cups, but I'll settle them down hard if it does."

"Not on my account," Tuon replied magnanimously. "They should have their sport."

The woman seemed uncomfortable with Tuon's statement, and barely curtsied before hurrying away and called for the serving girl to bring wine and ale.

"You mustn't ask questions like that, Precious," Toy told her quietly as he led her to a table. Selucia took Tuon's cloak and held her chair for her before taking her place at her mistress' shoulder. Tuon hardly noticed as she listened to Toy's explanation. "It isn't polite. Besides, it lowers your eyes."

Tuon nodded to herself. "Your customs are often very peculiar, Toy. You will have to teach me about them. I have learned some, but I must know the customs of the people I will rule in the name of the Empress, may she live forever."

"I'll be glad to teach you what I can," Toy said as he shed his cloak. "It will be good for you to know our ways even if you end up ruling a sight less than you expect to." He set his hat on the table, making both Tuon and Selucia jump. Tuon hurriedly relocated it to an open chair.

"That is very bad luck, Toy. Never put a hat on a table." She made the sign to ward off evil, just in case she had not removed it quick enough. What was the man thinking?

"I'll remember that," he said, as if he did not believe her. As if he did not appreciate her attempts to educate him. And why didn't he? She was willing to learn from him, so why should he not learn from her? Someday he would belong to the Empire, so he ought to know their customs, just as Tuon ought to know his.

"I have decided you will not do for a cupbearer, Toy. Not until you learn meekness, which I almost despair of teaching you. Perhaps I will make you a running groom, instead. You are good with horses. Would you like trotting at my stirrup when I ride? The robes are much the same as for a cupbearer, but I will have yours decorated with ribbons." Remembering something she had heard in the palace in Ebou Dar, she added, "Pink ribbons." He colored most satisfactorily at that addition. Making him a running groom was not a bad idea, actually. The only talent she had seen from him thus far pertained to horses, and she would have to make use of him somehow if this all fell through.

The serving woman arrived with their drinks just then. Toy avoided looking at her and didn't even reply to the smile she gave him when he paid her. She had never seen him with such a blank expression. After the woman left, Tuon chided him, "You could have smiled back at her, Toy. She is very pretty. You were so stone-faced, you probably frightened her." Cautiously, she sipped her ale. To her surprise, it tasted good. It was not quite like wine—both the flavor and the texture were different—but it was palatable. "This is actually quite good."

Toy sighed and sipped his own drink. Returning to the previous conversation, Tuon asked, "Tell me about your customs, Toy. How must one behave in a hell?"

Toy's mouth twitched. "That's easy. Keep to yourself, ask no questions. Sit with your back to a wall and near a door in case you need to leave suddenly. Know at least two ways out of the room. If a fight starts, get out of the way or you're likely to get caught up in it. Better not to go at all, of course, but if you have to, it's best to be polite to everybody. People have short tempers in such places."

That was simple enough to remember, even if Tuon was not likely to need the knowledge again. "And how does that differ from a respectable inn?" she inquired as she sipped her drink. Her mug had been filled very full, and it was taking her awhile to drink it.

"Well, fights are less likely, for one thing. Some questions are alright, but too many will arouse suspicion. It's still a good idea to know several ways out. Be polite to the bouncer, the serving maids, and the innkeeper."

"What about courts or palaces? How would you behave before a king?"

"Well, I've not seen many kings. In Tear it's a good idea to step lightly around the High Lords." Tuon sniffed at the audacity they had to call themselves High Lords, but Toy continued on without appearing to notice. "They're very hung up on their own rank, there. The Stone of Tear is a big place, and the High Lords aren't too keen on visitors. The Court in Caemlyn is a bit less elaborate. It's not quite as hard to get an audience with the queen, or it wasn't when I was there. Oh, and in Shienar everybody is very polite. They're a hard people, but honor is very important to them. I'm afraid I haven't much experience with any other courts."

"So you have traveled widely, and been in other palaces than the Tarasin." She finished her ale before she continued. "But you are not nobly born, it seems. I thought you must not be." The question then became how he had come to be treated as a noble, with retainers and silk coats? Had he done something to earn his rank, as some commoners were raised to the Blood in Seanchan?

"That I am not," he said quickly. "Nobles…" He opted not to finish that sentence, but he hardly needed to. For a man who spent time with nobles—who dallied with a queen!—he was rather averse towards them. Studying him, with his silk coat and confident demeanor, she thought he might even look at home in the palace in Seandar, once he shaved his head. In any event, the conversation seemed to be over. That was fine. There were two things Tuon still wished to see, here, and she had a feeling Toy would refuse point-blank if she told him to start a fight.

ORDER ME ANOTHER ALE, she ordered over her shoulder. Selucia obeyed by clapping her hands to summon the serving girl.

"You called yourself a gambler, and Master Merrilin named you the luckiest man in the world," Tuon remarked as the serving girl came running. She had taken Selucia's order and run off before Toy replied.

"I have luck sometimes."

"Let's see whether you have any today, Toy." Tuon glanced toward the table where a dice game was in progress. Toy took the hint and stood to offer her his arm. She took it and let him lead her over to the game.

"May a stranger join your game, my good fellows?" Toy asked jovially. Three of the men reacted negatively, but the woman replied with an affirmative. By the slur in her words, Tuon guessed that the woman might be drunk.

Toy and Tuon seated themselves and watched the game for a round or two. Tuon did not really understand the rules, but Toy seemed to grasp them quickly. He laid a silver coin on the table as his wager and rolled the dice. Four fives came up.

"Is that a winning toss?" Tuon inquired. Four fives seemed like they would be good.

"Not unless I match it," Toy replied evenly as he scooped the dice up again, "without tossing a fourteen or the Dark One's Eyes first." He shook the cup and rolled them again to show four fives. Perhaps he really was as lucky as he claimed, to get a match on the first try.

The older fellow at the table stood up suddenly. "I've had enough," he announced, and began gathering his winnings.

"You're leaving, Vane? Now?" one man demanded. Perhaps there was more going on here than just a dice game.

"I've had enough, Camrin," Vane growled, and stamped his way to the exit.

The woman leaned over to pat the third man's wrist. "Just means I'll buy my lacquerware from you, Master Kostelle. You and Master Camrin."

Kostelle chuckled, not at all put out by Vane's departure. "So it does, Mistress Alstaing. So it does. Doesn't it, Camrin?" Tuon wondered what that was about, before she remembered Mistress Anan's mention of business. Perhaps this was what she meant.

"I suppose. I suppose." He matched Toy's wager again, and Toy spun the dice. Tuon felt some disappointment on seeing a fourteen. Perhaps Toy was not as lucky as he claimed, after all.

"Oh. You lost."

"I won, Precious. That's a winning toss if it's your first. Another?"

The next roll totaled fourteen as well, as did the next and the one after that. Over and over he rolled fourteen, never the same combination twice. Tuon could not imagine how he was doing it. Neither could anybody else, if the number of spectators was any indication. Toy grinned at her once, a smile of pure pleasure. She nodded back at him, giving him all the encouragement he needed. He certainly seemed to be in his element, here.

Suddenly, he froze. It was only an instant, but something had obviously made him uneasy. Tuon followed his gaze to Mistress Alstaing curiously, but saw nothing amiss. Even so, Toy announced, "One last toss, and I think I'll call it done. Mistress Heilin?" He handed the innkeeper a fistful of coins. "To celebrate my good fortune, serve everybody what they want to drink until those run out." This brought murmurs of appreciation from the onlookers. Tuon knew what he was doing. She had done similar things on a much grander scale. Make a gift to a group of people, make them beholden to you, and they were less likely to cause trouble. It was a wise move, and surprisingly cunning for the bumbling country boy he often seemed. She wondered if he realized it, or was just being generous.

"He can't keep this run going forever," Camrin muttered. "What say you, Kostelle? Halves?" He slid a gold coin across the table. "If there's only to be one more toss, let's make a real wager on it. Bad luck has to follow this much good." After a moment, Kostelle nodded and added his coin.

Toy sighed and shook the dice. He spun them out, watching with everyone else as they bounced off the coins and settled, all showing a single dot. The men laughed and divided their winnings while the onlookers drifted off. Tuon turned to Toy, to find him watching Mistress Alstaing again. She couldn't determine the reason, since the woman wasn't particularly pretty. After a moment, he recalled himself and stood to lead her back to their table.

"So your luck is not endless, Toy. Or is it that you are only lucky in small things?" she asked.

"Nobody has endless luck, Precious. Myself, I think that last toss was one of the luckiest I've ever made."

"Oh?"

"The Taraboner woman was not as drunk as she seemed. I don't think she was drunk at all. She was playing those fellows along, and she was suspicious of me. If I had won that toss, she might have made an accusation. That would have gotten every man there to pull out his knife and attack me. Losing right then made it clear that I wasn't cheating. How could I be, since I walked away with no more than I sat down with? It eased their suspicions. Buying drinks for everyone served the same purpose. Few men are generous with cheated coin." He pulled out the chair for her, but she didn't take it.

He was very experienced in these situations, she could see. But was it only experience, or something more? What was it about this man that put her on edge and eased her at the same time? As the silence dragged on, she said, "You may do very well in Seandar." She would look forward to it. Then she handed him her mug. "Guard this until I return."

He reacted badly at that. "Where are you going?"

Tuon only just managed not to sigh or stamp her foot. "If you must know, I am going to the necessary, Toy."

He had the decency to look shamefaced. "Oh. The innkeeper can tell you where it is. Or one of the serving women."

"Thank you, Toy. I'd never have thought to ask." As she walked away, she said to Selucia HE TRULY SEEMS TO BELIEVE I AM A CHILD. BUT THEN, HE PROBABLY WOULD NOT HAVE THE SENSE TO ASK, BEING A MAN.

The innkeeper was perfectly willing to tell a lady where the necessary was, but she rudely kept her gaze on Tuon's face when she did. And she added a comment about her handsome lord, and how she wouldn't encourage him to risk all that money. But of course the lady knew what she was doing and did she need anything else? Tuon wondered where this sudden talkative mood had come from.

THE WOMAN TALKS ENTIRELY TOO MUCH, she told Selucia, BUT SHE WAS RIGHT ABOUT TOY. That made Selucia smile.

She took her time when she was done, adjusting her dress and considering the game she had seen. With the way Toy's eyes had lit up, she had been hard-pressed not to smile back at him. And the way he had dispelled tension she had not even noticed was nothing short of deft. If he applied that luck and ingenuity to important matters instead of dice games, he might actually make a respectable husband.

Eventually, they returned to the table. Toy rose immediately when he saw them, and gathered up Tuon's cloak. She noticed Merrilin had returned, and was standing as well. "We're leaving," Toy said as he attempted to drape her cloak about her. Selucia took it from him with a glare. Toy should know better than to preempt Selucia's prerogative.

"I haven't seen one fight yet," Tuon protested, garnering startled looks from the patrons.

"I'll explain outside," he insisted quietly. The tone of her voice suggested this was no whim. Something had happened. Or, since Merrilin was back, he had learned something important. Studying his face, she knew it did not matter which it was. He was not going to budge an inch on this. There was a strange look in his eyes, that she had seen only occasionally in those who wanted to protect her, not the least of which was Selucia. She could not argue with that. Not here, not now. Later, maybe, he would pay for his presumption.

She nodded her acquiescence. Selucia placed her mistress' cloak, and then donned her own. They left at a deceptively casual pace. As soon as they reached the street, Toy hurried them along, explaining as he walked. His eyes darted everywhere but to her, betraying his unease.

"The Seanchan are waiting for us on the border of Murandy. They're looking for an imposter of your description. They're out for blood. They'll kill you if they see you, and ask questions afterwards. We've got to find some horses and leave the show. I'm hoping Vanin knows a few discreet ways out of Altara that will let us avoid any trouble."

Tuon considered the information coolly. This was an obvious plot to remove her from the succession. How anyone had known where she was was immaterial. She immediately began considering who had concocted this scheme. Once she slipped through their net, she would have to pay them back. "It could be Ravashi or Chimal. My two nearest sisters in age. Aurana is too young, I think, only eight. Fourteen, you would say. Chimal is quiet in her ambition, but Ravashi always believed has always believed she should have been named just because she is older. She might well have sent someone to plant rumors should I disappear for a time. It is really clever of her. If she is the one." Toy seemed startled at her attitude, though she couldn't imagine why. She had told him that her siblings had tried to kill her, and she them. This was hardly the first attempted assassination she had faced. At that, she had more warning than she usually did.

"This plot could be dealt with easily if the High Lady were in the Tarasin Palace where she belongs," Selucia remarked.

Tuon spun and berated her maid. DO YOU REALLY THINK SO? I WOULD BE EASY FOR ASSASSINS TO FIND THERE, WOULD I NOT? IT IS NOT HIS FAULT. I CHOSE TO GO WITH HIM. I BELIEVE IT IS IMPORTANT THAT I BE HERE. REMEMBER YOUR PLACE AND DO NOT QUESTION MY JUDGMENT!

Selucia went to her knees in submission. MY EYES ARE LOWERED.

Tuon dropped her hands and stared at her maid for a long moment. She told herself that Selucia was only looking out for her safety. It was not an intended insult. Once she had herself under control, she lifted the other woman to her feet. YOU ARE FORGIVEN.

FORGIVE ME FOR MY PRESUMPTION.

YOU ARE FORGIVEN Tuon said again, and smiled to let her know it was truly well.

"Will you tell me what that was all about?" Toy demanded. Tuon turned to look at him, but decided to ignore his foolish question.

"What are your plans, Toy?"

"Not Ebou Dar, if that's what you're thinking, Precious. If one army is out to kill you, then they probably all are, and there are too many soldiers between here and Ebou Dar. But don't worry; I'll find some way to get you back safely."

"So you always…" she saw a flicker at the corner of her vision, and raised her gaze. Seven or eight men were coming around the corner with swords out. Her eyes widened, and Toy glanced over his shoulder to see what she was looking at. He spun and drew his knives, shouting, "Run, Tuon! Thom, get her away from here!" Even as Tuon moved to back away, he was throwing his knives. Two men dropped just like stones. Before they were down, Toy drew two more knives from his boots and dashed forward, towards danger.

It was fascinating to watch, but she supposed she really ought to move. Turning, she saw six more men coming at them from the other direction. Selucia and Merrilin were already moving to intercept them. Tuon turned so she could see both fights, and stayed in the middle. Otherwise both Toy and Selucia would lecture her later for risking her life unnecessarily. Besides, all three of them seemed fully capable of dispatching their attackers without her help.

Indeed they were. The fights ended at almost the same time. As the sixth man dropped on one end of the street, Toy faced his last opponent on the other. For some reason, he paused and said, "You can't hope to finish what the others failed in together. Run. I'll let you go unharmed." Tuon could not believe it. What was he thinking?

His foolish offer seemed to enrage the woman, for she rushed at him with a scream. Toy dodged backwards, unwilling to strike, and then he slipped. Almost without thinking, Tuon moved the last few paces and grabbed the woman's wrist. She twisted the woman's arm behind her back in a move she had practiced over and over again and then struck her throat. Tuon turned her attention to Toy as soon as the woman started choking.

"I told you to run," Toy said absently. He was swaying on his feet, his adrenaline obviously fading.

"You very nearly let her kill you, Toy. Why?" Tuon demanded.

"I promised myself I'd never kill another woman." After a moment, he remarked, "Looks like I've ruined this coat." Then he winced, appearing to notice his numerous cuts for the first time.

It was the strangest thing, Tuon thought. He fought without mercy or fear, outnumbered and against weapons with a longer reach, and then could not even raise his knives against a woman. It was a foolish, although endearing, disability. And then he made some light-hearted, insignificant comment as if he had not almost died! She wondered if she was going to have to watch him to make sure he didn't get himself killed.

Absently, she noted the conversation between Merrilin and Selucia. The old man had been surprisingly spry in the fight. And observant. Of course, it would have been hard for him to miss Selucia calmly disabling two men. He seemed willing to keep his mouth shut, though, so Tuon dismissed the matter. There were other things to worry about.

"This one can't live to be put to the question, and she can't talk if she somehow managed to," Tuon stated as she considered her victim. Indifferently expedient, and recognizing that Toy would not be able to do it, she took the woman's knife and stabbed her through the heart. The choked, rasping breathing cut off. "A mercy she did not deserve, but I see no point to needless suffering. I won, Toy."

"You won? What are you talking about?"

"You used my name before I used yours, so I won." The game had only lasted seven or eight days, and the outcome was not a surprise. Still, the fact that he had shouted her name under such stressful circumstances gave her a little tingling feeling. Just a little one, and she suppressed it quickly. Much better to be annoyed at his presumption—telling Merrilin to get her to safety—or his personality quirks.

Toy whistled softly and then went to retrieve his knives. He paused over one of the bodies, studying the face. Then he tucked the knife away as he stood. "Our plans have changed, Thom. We're leaving Maderin as fast as we can. Luca will want to be rid of us so much that he'll let us have all the horses we need."

"This must be reported, Toy," Tuon reminded him. Surely he knew this? "Failure to do so is as lawless as what they did."

"You know that fellow?" Merrilin inquired, as if Tuon had not spoken.

Toy nodded. "His name is Vane, and I don't think anybody in this town will believe a respectable merchant attacked us in the street. Luca will give us horses to be rid of this." Surprised, Tuon glanced back at the dead man. It was the merchant who had left when the game started. That was strange. She had always thought merchants were the type to hire killers, not lead them. Strange indeed.

Then Toy offered her his wrist again, and she decided merchants were not the strangest people here, after all.

AN: And that's where I'm stopping, seeing as this chapter is already 8 times my usual length. Never fear, I intend to describe their escape just a little bit more than RJ did. I just have to stop somewhere and this is it.

I think my interpretation of Tuon's character has changed since I started this story. And I've decided, since this is fanfiction, I can make her personality what I want and stop worrying about RJ's interpretation. So, as we get into the chapters where I have more freedom, expect some deviation from the book (just a little) as I take it.

Also, I haven't decided yet what to do for the part that is in her pov in the book. I was thinking I would just summarize it and give a few all-around thoughts. Any suggestions?