AN: I waited way too long to actually work on this chapter. Then school got in the way. And this chapter did not want to be written. We argued. It wasn't pretty. So, the quality may not be the best. It's somewhat longer than average, though, so please don't throw things at me. As usual, I adore constructive feedback. Many thanks to everyone who reads, and especially those who review. I love watching my hit counter go up.
The next chapter will be in Mat's pov. That should be fun. Hopefully I'll manage to post it by June.
Disclaimer: It never was and never will be mine. All credit goes to Robert Jordan. Most of the dialogue and the plot come from Knife of Dreams 540-551.
A Pleasant Ride
They didn't exactly hurry back to the show, but they didn't dawdle, either. As soon as they arrived, Toy cornered Valan Luca and gave him a brief account of the situation. Luca started sweating immediately and promised to procure horses for them.
In the meantime, Toy found the rest of his people and started giving orders. "Pack everything you absolutely need and leave the rest. We're not taking the wagons, so make sure you really need it. We'll be leaving as soon as Luca gets horses for us."
The Redarms and the servants went to work without so much as an eye-blink, following orders like good soldiers. Juilin and Mistress Anan gave him doubtful looks but didn't argue. Aludra murmured a question about her supplies and received an answer that pleased her enough to send her to work. On the other hand, Leilwin, Domon, and the marath'damane still believed they should be in charge and disliked taking orders from anyone. Toy sighed and told them why they were in a hurry. Then he simply ignored the "advice" of the marath'damane and ducked into his tent with his servants
After sending Selucia to begin packing, Tuon followed him without hesitation. If those wounds were not properly dealt with, he would slow them down as they traveled. He had stripped down to his smallclothes and both of his servants were applying sewing needles to his flesh. Their work was methodical and efficient, though not precisely gentle or careful.
The marath'damane were also present, creating an almost unbearable crowd in the modest tent. Each of them tried to offer their services for healing. The one that seemed to have two men devoted to her—Joline?—was the most insistent. Tuon's eyes narrowed. She did not trust that woman. She could not wait until she had that woman properly collared again.
Still, they had a point. After the woman threw up her hands in defeat, Tuon spoke up. "Don't be foolish, Toy. This Healing is a wonderful thing. My Mylen knows it, and I taught it to my others, too." She spared a brief thought for her damane, safely tame and so eager to please her, before continuing. "Of course, many people are foolish about having the Power touch them. Half my servants would faint at the suggestion, and most of the Blood, too. I shouldn't be surprised. But I wouldn't have expected it of you."
Even her dig at his pride was not enough to overcome his stubborn insistence on healing the hard way. Tuon glared at him, letting her disapproval radiate throughout the cramped little tent. She shooed the marath'damame out impatiently, since they could do nothing, and watched as the two servants finished their work. She felt no sympathy when he winced or bit off a curse: it was his own fault. Toy pulled on fresh clothing—what he had been wearing would require so much work to be wearable that it wasn't worth saving—with only a hint of stiffness. Then he strode out of the tent with something resembling his usual vigor.
Tuon shook her head at his foolishness and walked out at a more sedate pace. She returned to her wagon—not hers anymore after today, not that she minded. Selucia was within, carefully folding or rolling all her fine silk dresses. At least all her silk fine cloth had been made into dresses already. They would not have access to skilled seamstresses for some time. Selucia paused in her packing to help Tuon into a dress suitable for riding long distances. The maid had already changed, though her own clothing would not suffer from riding. Despite their unprecedented situation, Selucia still remembered her duties and her sensible attitude. Not for the first time, Tuon was pleased that she had kept this woman in her service.
Once Tuon had changed, she went straight to the Lucas' huge wagon. She knocked and was invited in. Mistress Luca, the sole occupant, stood and curtseyed briefly to her as she entered. "To what do I owe this honor, High Lady?"
"I was wondering if you had a few things I might purchase," Tuon replied, glancing around the interior. "In particular, do you by any chance have medical supplies? Bandages, balms, ointments, herbs for fever, and such?"
"I believe I have, High Lady. Just you wait a moment."
Tuon watched closely as Mistress Luca gathered various jars and packets and placed them in a traveling bag. The woman suggested other things she thought Tuon might need—spices, handkerchiefs, and a sturdy knife, to start—and Tuon either assented or politely declined. In the end, everything made a sizable package. They settled on a price—respectful they may be, but the Lucas did nothing for free—and Tuon bid the woman a cordial goodbye. She was not unwilling to end their acquaintance.
Outside, she handed the pack to Selucia and went to Akein. She stroked the mare's neck as she waited for everything to be ready. She saw that Master Luca had returned, and wondered what they were going to do with three-score packhorses. Then she saw that the woman with all the braids was directing the Redarms as they loaded her things onto the beasts. Tuon frowned. Was all that truly necessary? What use would the woman have for her crude sky-lights when they were in the forest? And yet, Toy made no comment, though he had clearly seen what she was doing. The man was everywhere, chivvying people to move faster and glancing anxiously towards town.
At last, they were ready to leave. There was one last round of goodbyes before they mounted up and set off down the road. Each of the Redarms took one string of packhorses and Leilwin's husband Domon took the fourth. Tuon rode at the head of the procession with Toy and Selucia. She did not look back.
They followed the road until the last of the farms were behind them and the town was only a memory beyond the horizon. Then they left the road and took to the forest. Their progress would be much slower off the road—especially with so many pack-beasts—but there was less chance they would be found by men after their blood, either. Besides, what did they have to hurry for? Tuon didn't mind. Traveling off the road was like an adventure, and ever so much more interesting that parading through a city. Judging by the excited comments made by Olver as he bounced up and down in Wind's saddle, she was not the only one who thought so.
They stopped as soon as the light began to fail, and found a campsite. Someone had thoughtfully purchased a few extra tents, but quarters would still be tight. Fortunately, Tuon would not be expected to share with anyone but Selucia and Mistress Anan. After they ate, Toy somehow found time for one game of stones before Tuon shooed him out so she could sleep. Despite the circumstances, she found herself unaccountably pleased that Toy had not dropped their game. That didn't mean, of course, that she was going to let him continue to call her by his silly pet name. That game had already ended.
The next morning, she occupied herself with questioning Toy as they rode. She tried quizzing him on the political situation—just to see if he knew anything she didn't, or had heard something from Master Merrilin—but he adamantly pretended ignorance. Instead, she asked about the foliage and wildlife around them. He was a better source of information here, but she had been raised in a palace and didn't really understand the difference between an oak and an elm.
Several of the men—most often Vanin, the Redarms, or the two men who looked to Joline—left the group from time to time and rode into the trees on either side of them. Occasionally, one returned to warn them about a nearby village or deliver the results of their hunting. She was pleased to see that most of them nodded respectfully to her when they came to report to Toy. Even if his attitude was not yet satisfactory, his men knew how to treat her. She mused idly about that difference in character, and wondered—not for the first time—why these men followed a man like Toy. She could not understand what bound such a disparate group of people together.
She understood that they had escaped from Ebou Dar together, but why? For what reason had they all been included in Toy's plan? Why had he rescued the marath'damane? Why take the braided woman with the sky-lights? Why did the Redarms answer to Toy? Why was Leilwin with them? And what was the reason he had taken Tuon? Oh, she had an inkling—she knew her part of it, anyway—but she could not fathom the reason on his part. She wanted to know, to unveil the mystery, and someday, he would tell her.
They stopped at midday to rest the horses and eat. Vanin had found them a pleasant clearing with a stream nearby. The servants set about digging a fire-pit and a refuse pit while the Redarms created seating arrangements with their hatchets. It wasn't exactly a fine dining hall, but it would do. Tuon thought the setting was rather quaint. It was certainly an experience she had not had before, and she had already decided to make the most of such things.
Her bird leg, when it was handed to her, was greasy and plain. There was a taste to it that reminded her of ashes, and she found herself hoping there would be some variety in their meals from now on. Still, she was hungry after riding all morning and she was too well-bred to make complaints when there was no other choice.
Toy finished his rabbit leg and discarded the bone. His servant swooped in to pick it up almost before it had touched the ground. Toy ignored the dour man, moving his hands towards his legs to wipe them off.
Tuon raised her eyebrows at him and freed one pf her hands. THOUGH WE ARE NOT IN A PALACE, ETIQUETTE IS STILL APPRECIATED. Selucia sniffed, conveying their disapproval clearly to Toy.
Toy met her gaze and insolently rubbed his hands on his breeches. Tuon's hands spoke again. IF HE THINKS HIS ARROGANCE WILL IMPRESS ME, HE WILL SOON FIND OTHERWISE. AS IT IS, I THINK I SHOULD GIVE HIM A BATH. PERHAPS WITH SCENTED OILS. Selucia laughed, as she was meant to, and that pushed Toy off-balance. Insolent he might be, but he liked being laughed at no more than the next man.
Mistress Anan added to the man's discomfort with her own comments, spoken just loud enough to be heard by everybody. Tuon relished her crisp insults, listening in delight. "She might have said men are pigs, or just that you are. She may have said you are a mud-footed country lout with dirt in your ears and hay in your hair. Or she might have said—"
"I think I see the direction you're going," Toy almost snarled. His face was by now redder than the rosebuds pinned to Tuon's dress. She couldn't help laughing a little at how completely his show of rebellion had been turned on its head.
He glanced at her only once, scowling, and then pulled out his pipe. He loaded it and lit it with a fire-striker—one of Aludra's toys.
"The strikers, they should not be wasted," the braided woman rebuked him from over her stones game with Merrilin. "Me, I must be in the same place for two days to make more. Men always find ways to make work for women, yes?" Toy didn't look at her, but his mouth went tight.
Tuon finished her portion of the roasted bird and handed it to Selucia to dispose of in the pit one of the servants had dug. Then she rose, resisting the urge to smooth her skirts or brush away the dead leaves and bark that clung to the material. She was dressed in practical clothing—silk did not do for riding—but that was no reason for her to neglect her appearance.
I WISH TO RINSE MY HANDS. UNLIKE SOME PEOPLE, I DO NOT SIMPLY ABANDON CIVILIZED BEHAVIOR ONCE I AM AWAY FROM THE CITY.
Selucia was at her side in a moment as she headed towards the stream. OF COURSE, HIGH LADY, THOUGH I REGRET THAT WE HAVE NOT THE TIME TO UNPACK THE SOAP.
I CAN MAKE DO FOR NOW. BESIDES, IT MIGHT BE BEST TO SAVE THE SOAP FOR CLEANING UP THAT STRAY PUPPY I SEEM TO HAVE ADOPTED.
INDEED. SINCE LEAVING HIS LAST MISTRESS, HE HAS BEEN MOST SADLY NEGLECTED, Selucia agreed with a smile.
They were halfway to the stream when a scream sounded behind them. Tuon glanced over her shoulder to see the da'covale—Thera, wasn't she?—practically in hysterics as a long black snake slithered past her. Both Leilwin and Juilin drew their swords and made to kill the thing, but Toy stopped them.
"Let it go, Juilin. It's heading away from us. Let it go."
After a moment, both obeyed him. As the man wrapped his arms around the whimpering da'covale—Tuon would have sneered in contempt if she hadn't been trained to hide her emotions—he asked, "What kind is it, anyway?"
Toy reluctantly replied, "A blacklance." Juilin stiffened and glared after the snake as if he were tempted to go after it anyway. His fear could not have been plainer even if he had shouted. Tuon hmmed deep in her throat and beckoned to Selucia. IT IS NO THREAT NOW. LET US CONTINUE.
She bent to rinse her hands as Toy spoke from the clearing. She paid no attention to his attempts to hurry her along, taking care that her face and arms were clean. Selucia produced a small towel to dry off with as they walked back. She handed the towel to her maid and went to stand in front of Toy.
"A strange man, who lets poisonous serpents go," Tuon said thoughtfully. "From the fellow's reaction, I assume a blacklance is poisonous?"
"Very," he admitted. "But snakes don't bite anything they can't eat unless they're threatened." He started to mount. Eyeing the stiff way he moved, Tuon made a decision.
"You may kiss me, Toy." She ignored the sudden stares and Selucia's silent disapproval. She kept her gaze steady on the flabbergasted man.
"Now? When we stop tonight, we could take a stroll alone—" he stammered.
"By tonight, I may have changed my mind, Toy. Call it a whim, for a man who lets poisonous snakes go." It took a brave man or a foolish one to ignore danger nearby. She hadn't quite decided which one he was yet.
Toy only hesitated for one more moment before he removed his hat, stuck his spear in the ground, removed his pipe and gave her a peck on the lips. He was so perfunctory about it, so bashful, that she was forced to wonder. Either those stories Mistress Anan told her were vastly exaggerated, or Toy was…she wasn't sure what he was. Obviously he was not taken with her. In that case, he must have some ulterior motive for courting her, but she found that hard to credit.
She folded her arms and peered through her eyelashes at him as she had seen a woman do once at the show. "Do I remind you of your sister? Or perhaps your mother?" she demanded. Was he really only toying with her? If so, he would receive a painful awakening from his delusions. She would not be bested in such a way.
She didn't know whether it was her comment or the laughter coming from their spectators that did it, but Toy's face firmed. He briskly emptied his pipe and tucked it away in some pocket, hung his hat on his spear, and reached for her. His arms went around her almost before she knew what was happening. She could feel the muscles in his arms and chest. With them came a peculiar feeling that she firmly ignored, tucking it away where she need not think about it. He bent his head to hers and captured her willing lips.
He was fiery-hot and moist and electric. She had not known a person could do such things with just his mouth. She tried to match him, to undo him as he was undoing her, making her knees weak and her hands shake.
Finally he let go. She stood for a moment gathering her wits. She had not expected anything so intense, despite Selucia's stories. Someone whistled, and Toy smirked a little. That brought her fully back to herself. She was not a prize to be won.
She raised her fingers to touch his cheek. "I thought so. You're feverish. Some of your wounds must be infected."
He blinked and made as if to kiss her again, but she pushed him away impatiently. "Selucia, fetch the box of ointments I got from Mistress Luca."
Toy protested as the da'covale hurried to obey. "We don't have time for that now. I'll smear on something tonight." Since they were in no hurry to get to their destination, whatever that even was, Tuon ignored his excuse.
"Strip off, Toy," Tuon commanded. "The ointment will sting, but I expect you to be brave." If she brought his pride into it, he wouldn't make a sound, though he would yell and carry on otherwise. Men were funny that way.
"I am not going to—!" he yelped, alarmed.
"Riders coming," one of the red-arms informed them. He was already in his saddle and prepared to leave. "One of them's Vanin."
Toy immediately turned away from Tuon and swung into his own saddle. He looked towards the approaching riders. Frowning a little, Tuon turned and gestured for Akein to be brought to her. She mounted quickly, ready to meet whoever the scout had brought back as befitted her station. Who in the Light could the man have found out here?
The two riders slowed as they approached Toy—and they were aiming for Toy. Tuon was surprised by the look on Toy's face: a sort of sick surprise. Toy knew this man, and did not expect him to be here. Master Vanin stopped behind the other man, letting the newcomer approach alone.
Tuon studied the strange man, automatically noting everything about him and considering how he might affect her. He was a small man, both short and thin. The front of his head had been shaved and powdered, and she wondered what that indicated. He was dressed in a dark coat and cloak, which only accentuated his pale skin. His only decoration seemed to be a small red hand, sewn onto his coat and cloak, and a red armband. That too must signify something—perhaps the same thing as the so-called 'Redarms' that answered to Toy. His expression was grim, and he seemed wary, though Tuon was unsure whether that was because of the forest or whatever made Toy look so displeased. He sat in his saddle with the ease of long practice and the demeanor of the Blood. What Tuon couldn't determine was what in the world this man—surely a noble, and clearly not an Altaran—could have had to do with Toy.
"Vanin brought me up to date, Mat," the man said in crisp, quick tones. "I was sorry to hear about Nalesean and the others. A good man, Nalesean. They all were."
"Yes, they were," Toy replied curtly. "I assume Egwene never came to you for help getting away from those fool Aes Sedai, but what in the bloody flaming Light are you doing here? At least tell me you haven't brought the whole bloody Band three hundred bloody miles into Altara with you."
Tuon briefly entertained the thought of reprimanding him for his coarse language, but she had other things to consider. Who was this Egwene? How was this person—a woman?—involved with the marath'damane? How was Toy involved with them? What was the Band, and what was the connection between Toy and this man?
"Egwene is still the Amyrlin," the other man answered, seemingly unperturbed by Toy's language or tone. Tuon wondered what exactly an Amyrlin was. She was certain she had heard something about such a person once or twice since arriving in Ebou Dar. The rest of the conversation was not very enlightening, leaving her with more questions and no answers. What was an 'Accepted,' for instance? Then the conversation between the two men moved on to the 'Band,' which seemed to be a small army. Judging by Toy's comment about payment, it must be his army. The very idea of him having an army was a little strange, and the notion of responsibility was almost impossible to fathom. Toy did not seem like a man to consider things like how he was going to pay his men in the future. Then, the man—Talmanes?—said something that made Tuon's eyes narrow.
"…the Dragon Reborn will give you estates, and grand ones. He has raised men to rule nations, so I hear, and you grew up with him."
Was that a fact? And here Toy had pretended to know nothing about the Dragon Reborn. From the matter-of-fact manner of Talmanes' comment, it seemed that this gifting of estates was more expected than hypothetical. That implied some measure of intimacy. Seeing as Toy had implied the opposite, Tuon found herself somewhat peeved. He had lied to her—by omission, perhaps, but still a lie—and she detested being lied to. She took it as a matter of course most of the time, but the man who was trying to court her ought to know better. Her hand moved almost of its own accord. LET US INTERRUPT THEM NOW.
"That's as may be," Toy allowed grudgingly.
Selucia cleared her throat as Tuon prodded Akein forward. She sat her saddle as she would for a parade rather than a gallop through the countryside. She did not speak, waiting for Toy to realize his duty. When he did not, Selucia glared at him and cleared her throat again. Tuon resolved that once they returned to civilization she would thoroughly instruct him in proper etiquette.
At last, Toy got the point. "Tuon, allow me to present Lord Talmanes Delovinde of Cairhien. His family is distinguished and ancient, and he has added honors to its name." Tuon doubted his family was anywhere near as distinguished as the lowest of the High Blood, but she inclined her head to him briefly all the same. She would model proper behavior, even if Toy was incapable of recognizing it. "Talmanes, this is Tuon." Tuon noted the lack of titles, her lips twitched just once before she could still them. Selucia was not so contained; she glared fit to flay the man with her eyes.
Though Toy tried to do her this disservice, it was obviously wasted. Master Vanin had seemingly briefed this Lord Talmanes, for the short man bowed as low as was possible without falling from his mount. That would be a point for Tuon, then. She was almost tempted to smile.
Toy made a displeased noise and grabbed his hat and spear. He knew she was winning, too. So, as he always seemed to do, he changed the subject. Perhaps he thought she would forget that he had made a fool of himself. He should know by now that she would not.
"We were ready to move on, Talmanes. Take us to where your men are waiting, and we'll see if we can have as good luck avoiding Seanchan on the way out of Altara as you had on the way in." His tone was brusque and businesslike. Tuon wondered whether he had any respect for nobility at all.
"We saw a good many Seanchan," the lord said, turning his mount to ride beside Toy. "Though most of the men we saw seemed to be Altaran. They have camps scattered everywhere, it seems. Luckily, we saw none of those flying creatures I have heard of. But there is a problem, Mat. There was a landslide. I lost my rear guard and some of the packhorses. The pass is well and truly blocked, Mat. I sent three men to try climbing over with the orders sending the Band to Andor. One broke his neck, and another his leg."
Toy halted his gelding, his face like stone. "I'm guessing this is the same pass Vanin was talking about?"
As Talmanes nodded, Vanin spoke from behind them. "Bloody right, it was. Passes don't grow on trees, not in mountains like the Damonas."
"Then you'll have to find another one," Toy informed him confidently. "I've heard you can find your way blindfolded at midnight. It should be easy for you." Toy certainly had a strange way of talking to his subordinates. Tuon did not see the need to bolster the confidence of her da'covale. They did what she told them to do, or she got rid of them. It was a simple arrangement.
Vanin scoffed. "Find another pass? Find another pass, the man says. You don't just go find another pass in new mountains like the Damonas. Why do you think I only knew the one?" The man's speech was garbled almost too badly for Tuon to understand him. He must be very out of sorts. Usually he was easier to understand than Toy was.
"What are you talking about?" Toy demanded.
As Vanin explained, Tuon watched Toy. She saw understanding dawn, and then something that looked like suppressed panic crossed his features. The expression didn't last long, however. If she had learned anything about this man in the last month or so, it was that he was too stubborn for his own good. That stubborn determination came to the surface now as Toy looked at each of them.
"Let's ride. I have to think."
If Tuon had been the kind to gamble, she would have wagered Toy would not turn around. There was no way he was going to lead them back towards Ebou Dar, danger or not. So what, exactly, was he going to do? Tuon rather thought the answer to that question might turn out to be the most significant thus far. Perhaps it would even be the last piece to the puzzle that was the man she would marry.
