DISCLAIMER: Wheel of Time belongs to Robert Jordan; none of these characters are mine. Most of the dialogue is taken from Chapter 28 of Crossroads of Twilight, "A Cluster of Rosebuds."
The night air was crisp and clear, and her first few deep breaths outside nearly made Tuon dizzy. It was all she could do not to grab a horse and run off, just to move, be in control. But she restrained herself like always, and her hood hid her roaming eyes that were taking in every inch of the dark campsite. She could finally identify the sounds to their images; without all the showfolk rushing about, it was more like a slumbering beast that would wake itself up the next morning for another chaotic day.
She took a slight opportunity to sneak a glance at Mat, who was walking along beside her; he himself was looking behind them, where Setalle and Selucia strolled. Her lips twitched as she recalled his affronted look when he heard why the two women were accompanying them--apparently he didn't like being called a "rogue" (Tuon was sure she could handle herself, and had also been insulted when Selucia insisted on coming; but Mat's disgruntled look had appeased her, as well as Selucia's reminder that her job was to keep Tuon safe).
As they were walking, Tuon was also extremely aware of his attempts to get her to talk--he actually appeared to be curious about her; but she was the one that needed to know more about him--he was still a mystery, the more she was around him. She heard his men outside her wagon calling him "My lord"--not to mention the fact that he had been a queen's toy!--yet he spoke of growing up on a farm, the Two Rivers.
It crossed her mind briefly that he was being deceptively simple so that she wouldn't know who he was, but when he spoke of his home it was too real to be a lie, she was sure. Another reason you're a fool--you know better than anyone not to trust! But she couldn't help enjoy listening to him talk about his home, however much she tried to resent that feeling.
Doing her best to ignore his inqueries, she tried her own simple questions; anything to nudge an answer out of him that would add another piece to the puzzle. Earlier in the day she had tried to look for omens, or anything, to tell her what to do; nothing came, leaving her with only her previous determination to get to the bottom of this man--he must be central to it all.
"Your father trades horses. And what do you do, Toy?"
For some reason, he looked over his shoulder again--was he worried someone might overhear?
"I'm a gambler," he said.
Tuon was glad, for once, that she wore her hood; it wasn't his answer that bothered her--it hardly meant anything--but he sounded exactly like her father did years ago.
"My father called himself a gambler."
Her memory of him was, at best, dim; but the lessons he taught her were still fresh in her memory--they were the only thing that had kept her alive thus far. Sometimes she would recall random memories: leaning over a stones board with him as he taught her the importance of strategy; that very first horse he bought her to train; the shock that had to be masked behind a face of indifference when she learned of his death.
"He died of a bad wager."
That ended the conversation for the evening.
"What do you do for fun, Tuon?" Mat asked her the next night.
She had gotten used to him calling her by her name, but it still didn't stop the shiver from going down her back.
"Just because you enjoy it," he continued. "Aside from playing stones."
Tuon almost laughed--there wasn't much to do for fun as the Daughter of the Nine Moons. They came to a halt at a cage with a black lion in it. A small stab of nostalgia hit her as she remembered the animals she saw in Seanchan; this one was different somehow, though. What was it?
"I train horses and damane," she replied honestly, realizing that those were the few things she actually enjoyed doing. It was something about the struggle of her will against another's. She knew, without boasting, that she was one of the best sul'dam in Seanchan, simply because she never backed down from the thrill of a challenge. Perhaps that was what interested her to this man beside her--a new challenge. This whole land was a challenge.
Lost in her thoughts, she suddenly realized what was different about the lion--"Does he really have a black mane? There are no lions with black manes in all of Seanchan."
She noticed that Mat seemed somewhat taken aback by her answer; of course, she shouldn't be surprised, as he had risked certain death freeing Light knows how many damane from Ebou Dar. She wondered how these people could simply let marath'damane run wild; not just wild, but in actual positions of power. She was sure she would never understand.
She ignored what Mat said to her next, for there was one question she was dying to ask, but she refused to sound like a simpering serving girl trying to catch the eye of a man. But, Light curse it all, she couldn't resist any longer; she had heard too many of Setalle's stories . . .
"Mistress Anan tells me you're a scoundrel, Toy." When she looked at him, he was blinking at her, like an owl, and she was glad to see that he was startled by her question--he seemed too sure of himself, and it unnerved her; putting him off balance was satisfying. "How many women have you kissed?" And then she was not so glad to realize that she very badly wanted to know the answer to this question.
She dimly heard the lion in the cage cough, but paid it no heed, her eyes fixed on Mat. He broke the contact first, and looked away, up at the sky.
"Looks like rain's coming again," was his answer, although the sky was perfectly clear. "Selucia will have my hide if I get you back soaked."
She felt her lips twitch and an involuntary laugh sound quietly in the back of her throat. She wondered why she wasn't indignant that he didn't answer--whether because he didn't think it proper to tell her, or because he was embarassed, she didn't know.
Every night Selucia tried to pry information--respectfully--out of Tuon about what she and Setalle had not been able to hear. And every night Tuon remained closed-mouthed, just smiling slightly as Selucia's speculations. Setalle never said anything, just watched her every once in a while with that infuriating calmness.
But after that walk to the lion's cage, she was surprised--and by no stretch rather angry--when he didn't return for two days. She was almost convinced that it had to do with their last conversation, though which part of it she didn't know. It couldn't have been her question; Setalle, who claimed to have an affection for the infuriating man, said worse things about him every day. She wondered if it had to do with her interest in damane, though that hardly made any sense either.
"I can't believe I have to sit in this cell for days simply because he won't stop by!" she railed, with only Selucia as her sympathetic audience. "We had an agreement, did we not? He can't just choose to not come!"
It was this very attitude that led her, out of spite, to ride on the wagon seat next to Setalle in the hopes that Mat would notice she wasn't going to be treated like a criminal locked up. She wasn't so angry that she was careless, however, and she took particular caution in making sure she was covered in her dark cloak.
She saw the Seanchan soldiers before she saw anyone else in the town; they were nearly impossible to miss. She willed herself to be calm, and remained where she was beside Setalle who, as always, appeared unruffled. As they approached closer to the town and the Seanchan eyeing the wagons, she peeked around the edge of her hood and saw Mat. He was riding near her wagon, trying not to look at her but failing most of the time--though she was sure she was the only one who noticed. She knew that she was torturing him by sitting here, and he was waiting for her to call out for help. Although she was slightly insulted, not being used to having her word distrusted, she could hardly blame him for his nerves--she knew exactly what her people did to enemies like him. But she was also sure that he was grudgingly beginning to trust her, and it gave her an idea for another way to take a little more control over the situation.
She would just have to wait until the next time he came to her wagon.
Originally posted: March 27, 2005
A/N: I thought for a while that I wasn't going to continue this fic, but then decided that I should at least end it with more of an actual conclusion. I probably will add one or two chapters more to tie it off; and by then the next WoT book will almost be out, and you can read something much better (:
And just a few responses for some very kind reviewers:
Atiaran: I definitely agree that Tuon is a good match for Mat, from what I've seen. They're both very strong willed, and they need someone just as clever and strong to keep up. Thankyou for reviewing.
Mesaarah: I agree that the last chapter was rushed; I definitely wish I could redo it again and include more dialogue and stretching it out a bit. I was just in way too much of a hurry to get it posted : Thankyou.
shaiel: Yes, this whole fic was just to amuse me until Jordan finally gets the next book out. I'm glad you're enjoying it (:
sophiedb: My opinion is that Tuon didn't know she can channel before she hears Egeanin say so in the last chapted of hers in CoT; so if you remember she actually does learn that she, and all sul'dam, can channel. I'm looking forward to writing that bit, if I ever get to it...
spencer4ever: I've read a theory on about Setalle as the foretold "One who is no longer" (I don't know if those are the exact words; I'm much too lazy to search for it). So that's where I became convinced that Setalle is a stilled Aes Sedai--and, IMHO, there are tons of hints lurking about her chapters if you read carefully (especially her interaction with Joline in CoT). Anyway, it's good to know someone likes Olver! But for me, the only good part about him is I'm not forced to suffer through any POV chapters! Thanks for your review (:
And thanks to A Lurking Reviewer, Catticus, JakOTheShadows, Niani, wisteria4444
Review, please? (winsome smile)