Robert Jordan - A Memory of Light

“Tell me something, Empress,” Rand said. “What would you all have done if you’d returned to these shores and found Artur Hawkwing’s armies still ruling? What if we hadn’t forgotten our oaths, what if we had stayed true? What then?”

“We would have welcomed you as brothers,” Tuon said.

“Oh?” Rand said. “And you would have bowed to the throne here? Hawkwing’s throne? If his empire still stood, it would have been ruled over by his heir. Would you have tried to dominate them? Would you instead have accepted their rule over you?”

“That is not the case,” Tuon said, but she seemed to find his words intriguing.

“No, it is not,” Rand said.

“By your argument, you must submit to us.” She smiled.

“I did not make that argument,” Rand said, “but let us do so. How do you claim the right to these lands?”

“By being the only legitimate heir of Artur Hawkwing.”

“And why should that matter?”

“This is his empire. He is the only one to have unified it, he is the only leader to have ruled it in glory and greatness.”

“And there you are wrong,” Rand said, voice growing soft. “You accept me as the Dragon Reborn?”

“You must be,” Tuon said slowly, as if wary of a trap.

“Then you accept me for who I am,” Rand said, voice growing loud, crisp. Like a battle horn. “ I am Lews Therin Telamon, the Dragon. I ruled these lands, unified, during the Age of Legends. I was leader of all the armies of the Light, I wore the Ring of Tamyrlin. I stood first among the Servants, highest of the Aes Sedai, and I could summon the Nine Rods of Dominion.”

Rand stepped forward. “ I held the loyalty and fealty of all seventeen Generals of Dawn’s Gate. Fortuona Athaem Devi Paendrag, my authority supersedes your own!”

“Artur Hawkwing—”

“My authority supersedes that of Hawkwing! If you claim rule by the name of he who conquered, then you must bow before my prior claim. I conquered before Hawkwing, though I needed no sword to do so. You are here on my land, Empress, at my sufferance!”

Thunder broke in the distance. Mat found himself shaking. Light, it was just Rand. Just Rand . . . was it not?

Tuon backed away, eyes wide, her lips parted. Her face was full of horror, as if she had just seen her own parents executed.

Green grass spread around Rand’s feet. The guards nearby jumped back, hands to swords, as a swath of life extended from Rand. The brown and yellow blades colored, as if paint had been poured on them, then came upright—stretching as if after long slumber.

The greenness filled the entire garden clearing. “He’s still shielded!” the sul’dam cried. “Honored One, he is still shielded !”

Mat shivered, and then noticed something. Very soft, so easy to miss.

“Are you singing?” Mat whispered to Rand.

Yes . . . it was unmistakable. Rand was singing, under his breath, very softly. Mat tapped his foot. “I swear I’ve heard that tune somewhere, once . . . Is it ‘Two Maids at the Water’s Edge’?”

“You’re not helping,” Rand whispered. “Quiet.”

Rand continued his song. The green spread to the trees, the firs strengthening their limbs. The other trees began to shoot out leaves—they were indeed peach trees—growing at great speed, life flooding into them.

The guards looked about themselves, spinning, trying to watch all of the trees at once. Selucia had cringed. Tuon remained upright, her eyes focused on Rand. Nearby, the frightened sul’dam and damane must have stopped concentrating, for the bonds holding Mat vanished.

“Do you deny my right?” Rand demanded. “Do you deny that my claim to this land precedes your own by thousands of years?”

“I . . .” Tuon took a deep breath and stared at him defiantly. “You broke the land, abandoned it. I can deny your right.”

Behind her, blossoms exploded onto the trees like fireworks, white and deep pink. The bursts of color surrounded them. Petals sprayed outward with their growth, breaking from the trees, catching in the wind and swirling through the clearing.

“I allowed you to live,” Rand said to Tuon, “when I could have destroyed you in an instant. This is because you have made life better for those under your rule, though you are not without guilt for the way you have treated some. Your rule is as flimsy as paper. You hold this land together only through the strength of steel and damane , but your homeland burns.

“I have not come here to destroy you. I come to you now to offer you peace, Empress. I have come without armies, I have come without force. I have come because I believe that you need me, as I need you.” Rand stepped forward and, remarkably, went down on one knee, bowing his head, his hand extended. “I extend my hand to you in alliance. The Last Battle is upon us. Join me, and fight.”

The clearing fell still. The wind stopped blowing, the thunder stopped rumbling. Peach blossoms wafted to the now-green grass. Rand remained where he was, hand extended. Tuon stared at that hand as if at a viper.

Mat hurried forward. “Nice trick,” he said under his breath to Rand. “Very nice trick.” He approached Tuon, taking her by the shoulders and turning her to the side. Nearby, Selucia looked stunned. Karede was not in much better shape. They would not be any help.

“Hey, look,” Mat said to her softly. “He’s a good fellow. Hes rough at the corners sometimes, but you can trust his word. If he’s offering you a treaty, he’ll make good on it.”

“That was a very impressive display,” Tuon said softly. She was trembling faintly. “What is he?”

“Burn me if I know,” Mat said. “Listen, Tuon. I grew up with Rand. I vouch for him.”

“There is a darkness in that man, Matrim. I saw it when last he and I last met.”

“Look at me, Tuon. Look at me.”

She looked up, meeting his gaze.

“You can trust Rand al’Thor with the world itself,” Mat said. “And if you can’t trust him, trust me. Hes our only choice. We don’t have time to take him back to Seanchan.

“I’ve been in the city long enough to have a little peek at your forces. If you’re going to fight the Last Battle and recapture your homeland, you’re going to need a stable base here in Altara. Take his offer. He just claimed this land. Well, make him secure your borders as they are and announce it to the others. They might listen. Take a little pressure off you. Unless, that is, you want to fight the Trollocs, the nations of this land, and the rebels in Seanchan at the same time.”

Tuon blinked. “Our forces.”

“What?”

“You called them my forces,” she said. “They are our forces. You are one of us now, Matrim.”

“Well, I guess I am at that. Listen, Tuon. You have to do this. Please.” She turned, looking at Rand, kneeling in the middle of a pattern of peach blossoms that seemed to have circled out from him. Not a one had fallen on him.

“What is your offer?” Tuon asked.

“Peace,” Rand said, standing, hand still out. “Peace for a hundred years. Longer, if I can make it so. I have persuaded the other rulers to sign a treaty and work together to fight the armies of the Shadow.”

“I would have my borders secured,” Tuon said.

“Altara and Amadicia shall be yours.”

“Tarabon and Almoth Plain as well,” Tuon said. “I hold them now. I will not be forced from them by your treaty. You wish peace? You will give me this.”

“Tarabon and half of Almoth Plain,” Rand said. “The half you already control.”

“I would have the all of the women this side of the Aryth Ocean who can channel as damane ,” Tuon said.