Robert Jordan - A Memory of Light

Mat felt sorry for this poor fool caught sneaking into the palace. Maybe the man was an assassin, but he could just be a beggar or other fool looking for excitement. Or he could be . . .

. . .the Dragon Reborn.

Mat groaned. Yes, that was Rand they led along the path. Rand looked older, more weathered, than the last time Mat had seen him in person. Of course, he had seen the man recently in those blasted visions. Although Mat had trained himself to stop thinking of Rand to avoid those colors, he still slipped on occasion.

Anyway, seeing Rand in person was different. It had been . . . Light, how long had it been? The last time I saw him with my own eyes was when he sent me to Salidar after Elayne. That felt like an eternity ago. It had been before he had come to Ebou Dar, before he had seen the gholam for the first time. Before Tylin, before Tuon.

Mat frowned as Rand was led up to Tuon, his arms bound behind his back. She spoke with Selucia, wiggling her fingers in their handtalk. Rand did not seem the least bit worried; his face was calm. He wore a nice coat of red and black, a white shirt underneath, black trousers. No gold or jewelry, no weapon at all.

“Tuon,” Mat began. “That’s—”

Tuon turned from Selucia to see Rand. “ Damane! ” Tuon said, cutting Mat off. “Bring my damane! Run, Musicar! RUN !”

The Deathwatch Guard stumbled backward, then ran, yelling for the damane and for Banner-General Karede.

Rand watched the man go, nonchalant though he was bound. You know, Mat thought idly, he kind of does look like a king. Of course, Rand was mad, most likely. That would explain why he had strolled up to Tuon like this.

Either that, or Rand was just planning on killing her. Bonds did not matter one bit to a man who could channel. Blood and ashes, Mat thought. How did I end up in this situation? He had done whatever he could to avoid Rand!

Rand met Tuon’s stare. Mat took a big breath, then jumped in front of her. “Rand. Rand, here now. Let’s be calm.”

“Hello, Mat,” Rand said, voice pleasant. Light, he was mad! “Thank you for leading me to her.”

“Leading you . . .”

“What is this?” Tuon demanded.

Mat spun. “I . . . Really, it’s just . . .”

Her stare could have drilled holes in steel. “You did this,” she said to Mat. “You came, you lured me to be affectionate, then you brought him in. Is this true?”

“Don’t blame him,” Rand said. “The two of us needed to meet again. You know it is true.”

Mat stumbled out between them, raising one hand either direction. “Here now! Both of you, stop. You hear me!”

Something seized Mat, hauling him into the air. “Stop that, Rand!” he said.

“It isn’t me,” Rand said, adopting a look of concentration. “Ah. I am shielded.”

As Mat hung in the air he felt at his chest. The medallion. Where was his medallion?

Mat stared at Tuon. She looked ashamed for a brief moment, reaching into the pocket of her gown. She brought out something silver in her hand, perhaps intending to use the medallion as protection against Rand.

Brilliant , Mat thought, groaning. She had taken it off him while he slept, and he had not noticed. Bloody brilliant.

The weaves of Air set him down beside Rand; Karede had returned with a sul’dam and damane . All three were flushed, as if having run quickly. The damane had been doing the channeling.

Tuon looked over Rand and Mat, then began gesturing with handtalk at Selucia with sharp motions.

“Thanks a bundle for this,” Mat muttered to Rand. “You’re such a bloody good friend.”

“Its good to see you too,” Rand said, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Here we go,” Mat said with a sigh. “You’ve pulled me into trouble again. You always do this.”

“I do?”

“Yes. In Rhuidean and the Waste, in the Stone of Tear . . . back in the Two Rivers. You do realize that I went south, instead of coming to your little party with Egwene in Merrilor, to escape ?”

“You think you could stay away from me?” Rand asked, smiling. “You really think it would let you?”

“I could bloody try. No offense, Rand, but you’re going to go mad and all. I figured I’d give you one less friend nearby to kill. You know, save you some trouble. What did you do to your hand, by the way?”

“What did you do to your eye?”

“A little accident with a corkscrew and thirteen angry innkeepers. The hand?”

“Lost it capturing one of the Forsaken.”

“Capturing?” Mat said. “You’re growing soft.”

Rand snorted. “Tell me you’ve done better.”

“I killed a gholam ,” Mat said.

“I freed Illian from Sammael.”

“I married the Empress of the Seanchan.”

“Mat,” Rand said, “are you really trying to get into a bragging contest with the Dragon Reborn?” He paused for a moment. “Besides, I cleansed saidin. I win.”

“Ah, that’s not really worth much,” Mat said.

“Not worth much? It’s the single most important event to happen since the Breaking.”

“Bah. You and your Asha’man are already crazy,” Mat said, “so what does it matter?” He glanced to the side. “You look nice, by the way. You’ve been taking better care of yourself lately.”

“So you do care,” Rand said.

“Of course I do,” Mat grumbled, looking back at Tuon. “I mean, you have to keep yourself alive, right? Go have your little duel with the Dark One and keep us all safe? It’s good to know you’re looking up to it.”

“That’s nice to hear,” Rand said, smiling. “No wisecracks about my nice coat?”

“What? Wisecracks? You aren’t still sore because I teased you a little a couple of years ago?”

“Teased?” Rand said. “You spent weeks refusing to talk to me.”

“Here now,” Mat said. “It wasn’t all that bad. I remember that part easily.”

Rand shook his head, as if bemused. Bloody ungrateful was what he was. Mat had gone off to fetch Elayne, as Rand had asked, and this was the thanks he was given. Sure, Mat had been a little sidetracked after that. He had still done it, had he not?

“All right,” Mat said very softly, tugging at the bonds of Air holding him. “I’ll get us out of this, Rand. I’m married to her. Let me do the talking, and—”

“Daughter of Artur Hawkwing,” Rand said to Tuon. “Time spins toward the end of all things. The Last Battle has begun, and the threads are being woven. Soon, my final trial will begin.”

Tuon stepped forward, Selucia waving a few last finger-talk words toward her. “You will be taken to Seanchan, Dragon Reborn,” Tuon said. Her voice was collected, firm.

Mat smiled. Light, but she made a good Empress. There was no need to filch my medallion, though, he thought. They were going to have words about that. Assuming he survived this. She would not really execute him, would she?

Again, he tried the invisible bonds tying him.

“Is that so?” Rand asked.

“You have delivered yourself to me,” Tuon said. “It is an omen.” She seemed almost regretful. “You did not truly think that I would allow you to stroll away, did you? I must take you in chains as a ruler who resisted me—as I have done to the others I found here. You pay the price of your ancestors’ forgetfulness. You should have remembered your oaths.”

“I see,” Rand said.

You know, Mat thought, he does a fair job of sounding like a king, too. Light, what kind of people had Mat surrounded himself with? What had happened to the fair barmaids and carousing soldiers?