The Gathering Storm

by Brandon Sanderson

Page 58

  Tuon felt she should be shocked. But, oddly, she wasnt. So Matrim was not mistaken about this, she signed covertly to Selucia. And she had assumed Trollocs to be nothing more than superstition. She glanced at the heads again. Revolting.

  Selucia seemed troubled. Are there other things he said that we discounted, I wonder?

  Tuon hesitated. We shall have to ask him. I should very much like to have him back. She froze; she hadnt meant to admit so much. She found her own emotions curious, however. She had felt safe with him, ridiculous though it seemed. And she wished he were with her now.

  These heads were yet another proof that she knew very little of him. She reasserted control of the chattering crowd. Selucia Voiced, "You will silence yourselves. "

  The room fell still, though the Blood and the suldam still looked very disturbed. Tylee still knelt, head bowed, the soldier who had borne the heads kneeling beside her. Yes, she would have to be thoroughly questioned.

  "This news changes little," Selucia Voiced. "We were already aware that the Last Battle approaches. We appreciate Lieutenant-General Tylees revelations. She is to be commended. But this only makes it more urgent that we subdue the Dragon Reborn. "

  There were several nods from those in the room, including General Galgan. Beslan did not seem so quickly persuaded. He just looked troubled.

  "If it pleases the Highest Daughter," Tylee said, bowing.

  "You are allowed to speak. "

  "These last few weeks, I have seen many things that have given me thought," Tylee said. "Even before my troops were attacked, I was worried. The wisdom and grace of the Highest Daughter undoubtedly let her see further than one such as I, but I believe that our conquests so far in this land have been easy compared to what might come. If I may be so bold . . . I believe that the Dragon Reborn and those associated with him may make better allies than enemies. "

  It was a bold statement. Tuon leaned forward, lacquered nails clicking on the armrests of her chair. Many of the low Blood would be so in awe at meeting one of the Empresss household, much less the Highest Daughter, that they would not dare speak. Yet this woman offered suggestions? In direct opposition to Tuons published will?

  "A difficult decision is not always a decision where both sides are equally matched, Tuon," Selucia said suddenly. "Perhaps, in this case, a difficult decision is one that is right, but requires an implication of fault as well. "

  Tuon blinked in surprise. Yes, she realized. Selucia is my Truthspeaker now. It would take time to accustom herself to the woman in that role. It had been years since Selucia had corrected or reproved her in public.

  And yet, meeting with the Dragon Reborn, in person? She did need to contact him, and had planned to. But would it not be bettet to go to him in strength, his armies defeated, the White Tower torn down? She needed him brought to the Crystal Throne under very controlled circumstances, with the understanding that he was to submit to her authority.

  And yet . . . with Seanchan in rebellion . . . with her position here in Altara barely stabilized . . . Well, perhaps some time to think—some time to take a few deep breaths and secure what she already had—would be worth delaying her strike on the White Tower.

  "General Galgan, send raken to our forces in Almoth Plain and eastern Altara," she said firmly. "Tell them to hold our interests, but avoid confrontation with the Dragon Reborn. And reply to his request for a meeting. The Daughter of the Nine Moons will meet with him. "

  General Galgan nodded, bowing.

  Order must be brought to the world. If she had to do that by lowering her eyes slightly and meeting with the Dragon Reborn, then so be it.

  Oddly, she felt herself wishing—once again—that Matrim were still with her. She could have put his knowledge of this Rand alThor to good use in preparing for the meeting. Stay well, you curious man, she thought, glancing back at the balcony, northward. Do not dig yourself into trouble deeper than you can climb to freedom. You are Prince of the Ravens now. Remember to act appropriately.

  Wherever it is you are.

  CHAPTER 20

  On a Broken Road

  Women," Mat declared as he rode Pips down the dusty, little-used road, "are like mules. " He frowned. "Wait. No. Goats. Women are like goats. Except every flaming one thinks shes a horse instead, and a prize racing mare to boot. Do you understand me, Talmanes?"

  "Pure poetry, Mat," Talmanes said, tamping the tabac down into his pipe.

  Mat flicked his reins, Pips continuing to plod along. Tall three-needle pines lined the sides of the stone roadway. Theyd been lucky to find this ancient road, which must have been made before the Breaking. It was mostly overgrown, the stones shattered in many places, large sections of the roadway just . . . well, just gone.

  Sapling pines had begun to sprout at the sides of the roadway and between rocks, miniature versions of their towering fathers above. The path was wide, if very rough, which was good. Mat had seven thousand men with him, all mounted, and theyd been riding hard in the little under a week theyd spent traveling since sending Tuon back to Ebou Dar.

  "Reasoning with a woman is impossible," Mat continued, eyes forward. "Its like . . . Well, reasoning with a woman is like sitting down to a friendly game of dice. Only the woman refuses to acknowledge the basic bloody rules of the game. A man, hell cheat you—but hell do it honestly.

  Hell use loaded dice, so that you think youre losing by chance. And if you arent clever enough to spot what hes doing, then maybe he deserves to take your coin. And thats that.

  "A woman, though, shell sit down to that same game and shell smile, and act like shes going to play. Only when its her turn to throw, shell toss a pair of her own dice that are blank on all six sides. Not a single pip showing. Shell inspect her throw, then shell look up at you and say, Clearly I just won.

  "Now, youll scratch your head and look at the dice. Then youll look up at her, then down at the dice again. But there arent any pips on these dice, youll say.

  " Yes there are, shell say. And both dice rolled a one.

  " Thats exactly the number you need to win, youll say.

  " What a coincidence, shell reply, then begin to scoop up your coins. And youll sit there, trying to wrap your head bout what just happened. And youll realize something. A pair of ones isnt the winning throw! Not when you threw a six on your turn. That means she needed a pair of twos instead! Excitedly, youll explain what youve discovered. Only then, do you know what shell do?"

  "No idea, Mat," Talmanes replied, chewing on his pipe, a thin wisp of smoke curling out of the bowl.

  "Then shell reach over," Mat said, "and rub the blank faces of her dice. And then, with a perfectly straight face, shell say, Im sorry. There was a spot of dirt on the dice. Clearly you can see that they actually came up as twos! And shell believe it. Shell bloody believe it!"

  "Incredible," Talmanes said.

  "Only thats not the end of it!"

  "I had presumed that it wouldnt be, Mat. "

  "She scoops up all of your coins," Mat said, gesturing with one hand, the other steadying his ashandarei across his saddle. "And then every other woman in the room will come over and congratulate her on throwing that pair of twos! The more you complain, the more of those bloody women will join the argument. Youll be outnumbered in a moment, and each of those women will explain to you how those dice clearly read twos, and how you really need to stop behaving like a child. Every single flaming one of them will see the twos! Even the prudish woman who has hated your woman from birth—since your womans granny stole the other womans grannys honeycake recipe when they were both maids— that woman will side against you. "

  "They are nefarious creatures indeed," Talmanes said, voice flat and even. Talmanes rarely smiled.

  "By the time theyre done," Mat continued, almost more to himself, "youll be left with no coin, several lists worth of errands to run and what clothing to wear and a splitting headache. Youll sit there and
stare at the table and begin to wonder, just maybe, if those dice didnt read twos after all. If only to preserve whats left of your sanity. Thats what its like to reason with a woman, I tell you. "

  "And you did so. At length,"

  "You arent making sport of me, are you?"

  "Why, Mat!" the Cairhienin said. "You know Id never do such a thing. "

  "Too bad," Mat muttered, glancing at him suspiciously. "I could use a laugh. " He looked over his shoulder. "Vanin! Where on the Dark Ones blistered backside are we?"

  The fat former horsethief looked up. He rode a short distance behind Mat, and he carried a map of the area unrolled and folded across a board so he could read it in the saddle. Hed been poring over the bloody thing the better half of the morning. Mat had asked him to get them through Murandy quietly, not get them lost in the mountains for months!

  "Thats Blinders Peak," Vanin said, gesturing with a pudgy finger toward a flat-topped mountain just barely visible over the tips of the pines. "At least, I think it is. It might be Mount Sardlen. "

  The squat hill didnt look like much of a mountain; it barely had any snow atop it. Of course, few "mountains" in this area were impressive, not compared to the Mountains of Mist, back near the Two Rivers. Here, northeast of the Damona range, the landscape fell into a grouping of low foothills. It was difficult terrain, but navigable, if one were determined. And Mat was determined. Determined not to be pinned in by the Sean-chan again, determined not to be seen by any who didnt have to know he was there. Hed paid the butcher too much so far. He wanted out of this hangmans noose of a country.

  "Well," Mat said, reining Pips back to ride beside Vanin, "which of those mountains is it? Maybe we should go ask Master Roidelle again. "

  The map belonged to the master mapmaker; it was only because of his presence that theyd been able to find this roadway in the first place. But Vanin insisted on being the one to guide the troop—a mapmaker wasnt the same thing as a scout. You didnt have a dusty cartographer ride out and lead the way for you, Vanin insisted.

  In truth, Master Roidelle didnt have a lot of experience being a guide. He was a scholar, an academic. He could explain a map for you perfectly, but he had as much trouble as Vanin making sense of where they were, since this roadway was so disjointed and broken, the pines high enough to obscure landmarks, the hilltops all nearly identical.

  Of course, there was also the fact that Vanin seemed threatened by the presence of the mapmaker, as if he were worried about being unseated from his position guiding Mat and the Band. Mat had never expected such an emotion from the overweight horsethief. It might have been enough to make him amused if they werent lost so much of the flaming time.

  Vanin scowled. "I think that has to be Mount Sardlen. Yes. Its got to be. "

  "Which means . . . ?"

  "Which means we keep heading along the roadway," Vanin said. "The same thing I told you an hour ago. We cant bloody march an army through a forest this thick, now can we? That means staying on the stones. "

  "Im just asking," Mat said, pulling down the brim of his hat against the sun. "A commanders got to ask things like this. "