DISCLAIMER: Once again, I own nothing. Sadly enough, not even the plot. Only Tuon's train of thought. All the dialogue is taken directly from Crossroads of Twilight, Chapter 3: Fan of Colors.



He looked different, thanks mostly to his clothes. He worn plain brown wool, and a brown cap tugged low over his eyes; it was easy enough to see he was trying not to attract attention by fading out of most people's notice. He looked around the wagon briefly before turning his eyes to her, but she didn't give him a chance to talk; she had been waiting long enough.

"Setalle has been keeping me informed," she said before he had even closed the door. "She's told me the story you have put about concerning me, Toy."

Quickly she reached behind her for a cup just as he stated, "My name is Mat," as if she were a fool.

But like he had proved the night he kidnapped her, this Mat Cauthon had very quick reflexes, dropping to the ground before the cup could reach him. Despite everything, she was still surprised; she knew she had fast hands, and not many could dodge them when she was angry.

And Tuon was angry now; she would very much have liked for it to hit him. "I am a servant, Toy? A thieving servant?" As she stood and grabbed the chamber pot, some small voice in the back of her head pointed out that she was throwing a tantrum like a petulant child. She told it to shut up. "A faithless servant?"

Tuon could see that Selucia was enjoying herself, but she was practical as well, having put up with many of Tuon's rages. "We will need that," she said, and reached up to take the chamber pot before squatting at next to her.

"We have plenty of these," Setalle said-the Light bless her.

Mat shot her a surprised look, and it amused Tuon to know that he was baffled over Setalle's lack of... guarding.

"Do you need help in there?" one of the soldiers from outside called.

"We have everything in hand," Setalle serenely replied. "Go on about your work. Don't dawdle."

Tuon studied the cup and couldn't help it when she felt a small smile appearing, wondering if he would be quick enough to dodge this one. She always enjoyed seeing what others were made of. "I will not be known as a servant, Toy," she repeated more softly. She hoped she sounded more convincing than she felt, because most of her anger had left her suddenly. Besides, she had a sinking feeling that Mat would not really care what others referred to her as.

"My name is Mat, not... that other thing." So he had already stated. He was now cautiously standing up, and Tuon suddenly remembered that he was injured. Good, she thought, and hated that another part of her was worried she had injured him further. To cover this, as though he could tell, she raised the cup in her hands threateningly. He didn't appear to notice it.

"I could hardly tell the showfolk I'd kidnapped the Daughter of the Nine Moons."

"The High Lady Tuon, peasant! She is under the veil!" Selucia was always a stickler for ceremony, but this was hardly the place, and Mat simply looked confused.

"It is of no import, Selucia. He is ignorant, yet. We must educate him. But you will change this story, Toy. I will not be a servant."

"It's too late to change anything," he replied, keeping his eye on the cup-a wise move, as Tuon realized that he had directly refused her. She could feel the glowing spark of her anger resurfacing, and she gladly fueled it as he continued.

"Nobody's asking you to be a servant."

Tuon resisted the urge to roll her eyes; did he think her a fool? And did he really think that he or anyone else could make her be one?

"I couldn't leave you behind to raise an alarm. I know Mistress Anan has explained it to you. I know she's already told you this, but I promise no one's going to hurt you. We're not after ransom, just getting away with our heads still attached. As soon as I can figure out how to send you home safe and sound, I will. I promise. I'll make you as comfortable as I can until then. You'll just have to put up with the other."

Her anger grew, especially with his offhand treatment of her, like... like a package! Who was he to send her "home safe and sound," like an inept child? Was he really planning to get rid of her as soon as possible? After all, she remembered, he hadn't been planning to kidnap her in the first place. Well, as long as the omens held, she had no intention of leaving.

"It seems I will see what your promises are worth, Toy." For some reason, she was sure that he would keep any promise he made.

Selucia, outraged that Tuon was letting him speak to her thus, hissed; Tuon hushed her with a sharp gesture to keep silent, and Selucia had enough grace to blush.

She saw Mat looking at her hand curiously, but instead he said, "Answer me a question, Tuon."

It wasn't even a request, but a command. And he had actually addressed her by name? He was either a fool or he simply didn't care. Despite her wish for it to be the former, that annoying voice made her quite aware that it wasn't.

She thought she heard Setalle mutter something, but Mat showed no reaction if she did. Selucia, remembering her last reprimand, simply clenched her jaw. For her part, Tuon simply glared, nursing her anger.

"How old are you?"

That was his question? Tuon suddenly realized he really did think her a child. Furious, she drew herself to her full height-not very tall, is it? that annoying voice was still there-and glared at him. "My fourteenth true-name day will come in five months." She cursed her inability to keep her voice as cool as she would wish. She thought she saw hope flicker in his eyes briefly as she said this, and she almost trembled with rage as she realized what he was thinking. "No; you keep your birth names here, don't you. That will be my twentieth naming day. Are you satisfied, Toy? Did you fear you had stolen a... child?" She hadn't meant to say that, because she didn't want to hear the answer.

But he simply waved his hands in front of himself, looking worried and trying to ward off her anger. "I just wanted to know, that's all. I was curious, making conversation. I'm only a little older myself."

She looked at him, not really believing. But again, her anger had spent itself, and she tossed the cup down and sat once again on the stool, arranging her skirts and trying to compose herself. She looked up at him through her eyelashes and noticed something missing.

"Where is your ring?" she demanded.

He thumbed his finger, as if just now realizing it wasn't there. "I don't wear it all the time." She realized that it would be out of place with his plain clothing.

But he had been wearing it the day he met her; Tuon remembered it well-the fox and the nine moons. She had had to repress a shiver when she first lay eyes on it-and him. What else could it be but an omen? She only hoped, for the hundredth time since trapped in this wagon, that she hadn't been wrong. There were too many consequences if she were.

Refocusing on him, she saw that he was leaning against the cabinet lazily, as if it never occurred to him to show respect. He was grinning too, as if he found something amusing.

Something suddenly came to her, and she let out a long breath. She asked in the Old Tongue, "Do you remember Hawkwing's Face, Toy?"

Setalle Anan blinked, surprised; she probably understood nothing. Selucia, after staring at her for a second, turned her frown to Mat, waiting for his response. Tuon simply watched him, not really knowing why she had asked, or even if he had understood.

His smile seemed to freeze, and for barely a second he seemed to be somewhere else, still looking at her but not really seeing.

Then just as suddenly he was drawing a deep breath and saying quickly, "Of course I don't! Light, Hawkwing died a thousand years ago! What kind of question is that?"

She slowly opened her mouth, but found that she had nothing to say. So he did understand. This Mat Cauthon became more and more confusing every second. She wondered what he was really doing in Ebou Day; surely he hadn't come there to be a queen's pet?

"A foolish one, Toy," she replied finally, just to say something. "I can't say why it popped into my head."

He seemed to relax at that, before saying, "My name is Mat. Mat Cauthon."

She was getting a childish delight out of ignoring this repetition of his, and spoke over him, having fully recovered her poise; she wanted to annoy him some more.

"I cannot say what I will do after returning to Ebou Dar, Toy. I have not decided. I may have you made da'covale. You are not pretty enough for a cupbearer, but it might please me to have you for one." It would be interesting, to be able to boss him around; that would most likely infuriate him, too. "Still, you have represented certain promises to me, so it pleases me now to promise, as well. So long as you keep your promises, I will neither escape nor betray you in any way, nor will I cause dissension among your followers. I believe that covers everything necessary."

She ignored the startled expressions of the other women and watched Mat, waiting to see what he would do.

He looked at her as if she were insane, and made a noise of disbelief. She had to remind herself that these people really had no honor, and would not believe the word of a prisoner. He most likely thought she would escape the first chance possible-which she would, she conceded, if she had not promised. Or if she had not seen the omens.

"Well, that does all right for you, but what about Selucia?"

"Selucia follows my wishes, Toy." She was impatient, knowing he was only trying to stall for time.

He spat on his hand and held it out.

"Your customs are ... earthy," Tuon said, mimicking him and shaking his hand; it was callused and gripped hers firmly to seal the agreement. Agreement. Suddenly what had been pestering her ever since she first saw it had to be voiced. "'Thus is our treaty written; thus is agreement made.' What does that writing on your spear mean, Toy?" It seemed important that she know now.

But Mat didn't appear to have heard it. The moment his hands touched hers, his eyes had once again gone blank for barely the span of a heartbeat.

Someone knocked on the door, and he spun, pulling knives out of his sleeves. She would have been amused at his startled action but for the fact that he really seemed worried.

"Stay behind me."

Another order.

It was Thom Merilin, one of Mat's... followers? She wasn't quite sure the relationship between the two; both seemed to respect the other, but Merilin, for all his age, obeyed every order Mat gave him. It was another thing about him to be figured out.

"I trust I'm not interrupting anything?"

Tuon watched Mat slip his knives up his sleeves, and she suddenly wondered if she had underestimated him from the start. How many knives did he have?

"What did you find out, Thom?"

The old man limped into the wagon and pushed back his hood, wet with rain. "The streets are full of rumors about her, but nothing about her disappearing," he indicated Tuon. "I bought drinks for a few Seanchan officers, and they seem to believe she's snug in the Tarasin Palace or off on an inspection trip. I didn't sense any dissembling, Mat. They didn't know."

Of course not, the old fool. Well, Merilin wasn't a fool; she knew that much. She settled on speaking to Mat, then.

"Did you expect public announcements, Toy? As it is, Suroth may be considering taking her own life for the shame." Which wouldn't bother her in the least; she had never liked the woman. Even if this had been a mistake, at least one small good thing would come of it. "Do you expect her to spread such an ill omen for the Return about for everyone to see on top of that?"

Mat ignored her, looking preoccupied-it annoyed her how he seemed to be quite good at ignoring her-but Merilin eyed her with interest; but whether over her words or what she could not say.

"There's more, Mat," he continued, turning to him. "Tylin's dead. They're keeping it quiet for fear of disturbances, but one of the Palace Guards, a young lieutenant who couldn't hold his brandy, told me they're planning her funeral feast and Beslan's coronation for the same day."

Tuon blinked. She was surprised that this upset her, although she hardly knew the woman. Did her death have anything to do with Tuon's sudden disappearance? Or perhaps the disappearance of the queen's toy?

"How?" Mat demanded. Suddenly, Tuon wasn't so upset that Tylin was dead. Was he upset at all? she wondered.

She could see Merilin hesitating about whether or not to tell. "She was found in her bedchamber the morning after we left, Mat, still bound hand and foot. Her head.... Her head had been torn off."

Suddenly, Mat sat on the floor, or rather collapsed, directly in front of Tuon. Setalle felt his cheek with a worried expression on her face, like a mother worried about a child's fever. Tuon briefly wondered what Tylin's death meant to this woman, who was not an Ebou Dari but had lived there. It was a fleeting thought, and she refocused her attention on Mat and Merilin as they continued.

"The Windfinders?" Mat said.

"According to what that lieutenant said, the Seanchan have settled on Aes Sedai for the blame. Because Tylin had sworn the Seanchan oaths. That's what they'll announce at her funeral feast."

"Tylin dies the same night the Windfinders escape, and the Seanchan believe Aes Sedai killed her?" Mat said, incredulous. "That doesn't make sense, Thom."

"It could be political, in part, but i think that's what they really believe, Mat. That lieutenant said they're sure the Windfinders were running too hard to stop or go out of their way, and the quickest path out of the palace from the damane kennels goes nowhere near Tylin's apartments."

Mat simply grunted. His shoulders were hunched, and Tuon wondered if he was thinking about Tylin much. Of course he is, fool; didn't he just hear she was dead?

She gestured with her hand to Selucia, who obediently dictated, "The marath'damane had reason to murder Tylin. They must fear her example for others. What reason had the damane you speak of? None. The hand of justice requires motive and proof, even for damane and da'covale."

Everyone was looking at her, except for Mat, who looked over his shoulder at Tuon. She remembered him curiously looking at her hand gesturing before.

She carefully schooled her features and, making sure her voice was even, said, "Did you care for Tylin so deeply?"

"Yes. No. Burn me, I liked her!" He turned away from her and brushed his hand through his hair, knocking off the cap as he did so.

She didn't know if she liked his answer, or his turning away from her. If he didn't love her, then why...

Why a lot of things, she thought, bemused.

Mat continued, more to himself that anyone else, "And I left her tied up and gagged, so she couldn't even call for help, easy prey for the gholam. It was looking for me. Don't shake your head. Thom. You know it as well as I do." He sounded tired, and frustrated, and something else.

"What is a ... gholam?" she asked, and looking at the other two women she knew she wasn't the only one who had never heard of this.

"Shadowspawn, my Lady," Merilin answered, frowning; he looked worried, and she thought that he was even frightened of this... gholam. "It looks like a man, but it can slip through a mousehole, or under a door, and it's strong enough to..." he trailed off. "Well, enough of that. Mat, she could have had a hundred guards around her, and it wouldn't have stopped that thing."

So the "something else" was guilt. He was guilty over Tylin's death, and Tuon hoped it was only guilt.

But this gholam; surely it was impossible, but she did not think either one of them would feel the need to invent something like this.

"A gholam," she murmurred. She rapped Mat's head sharply with her knuckles, tired already of his brooding. He turned to look at her as if he didn't quite believe she had just done that, clasping his head with his hand. "I'm very happy that you show loyalty to Tylin, Toy," she lied, "but I won't have superstition in you. I will not have it. It does Tylin no honor." He looked increasingly incredulous with every word.

Another fist hammered on the door. Tuon found it only slightly amusing that after days of nothing, suddenly her little wagon could hardly fit anyone else.

It was a man, wearing an ordinary brown cloak and clothes, but he looked dangerous. He focused on Mat, but not before staring at Selucia's... assets for longer than necessary.

"Joline wants you, Cauthon," he said.

Joline? The name sounded familiar, but she didn't like the fact that Mat was being ordered away from her before she was finished with him. She still had several more questions.

"Who is Joline?" Tuon demanded. They simply ignored her.

"Tell Joline I'll see her once we're on the road, Blaeric."

"She wants you now, Cauthon."

Mat seemed to give in, too tired to argue with Blaeric, and stood up with a sigh.

"Who is Joline, Toy?" She didn't mean it to come out that way, but she couldn't keep the annoyance out of her voice. Or the jealousy, rather. Shut up.

"A bloody Aes Sedai," Mat grumbled, not even looking at her.

Tuon, despite everything, felt her mouth drop open in shock. And then Mat and the other two men were out of the wagon, in the rain, and she was once again in her tiny wagon with only Setalle and Selucia.



Originally posted: April 10, 2004

A/N: Ah, well, hello. I'm glad you've read thus far. I think I shall state a few things:

1) This is my first fanfiction. I never intended to write one, but I've found Tuon increasingly admirable as I've reread the last two books, and thus I wanted to give my small insight into who I think she is.

2) I guess I should state the obvious in that I took a few liberties with interpretations, such as Tuon's question "Do you remember Hawkwing's face, Toy?" Nothing in the text really leads me to assume she asked the question in the Old Tongue, but it just occurred to me once, I wonder what it'd mean if she did? And so I wrote it that way-because it'd be really interesting if she did ask in the Old Tongue.

3) I'm sure a lot of people will disagree with certain things that she thinks, or what kind of a person I'm representing her as. But as her character is somewhat limited so far and with limited appearances-only one POV of hers-I largely based my interpretation on Mat's views and her dialogue. I hope it's not incredibly off the wall.

That's about it. I have no idea when I'll update again. Reviews are appreciated.