Chapter Text
Tuon's heart was already racing at her first glimpse of Toy. The woman had barged straight into Tylin's apartments like the gusts of wind outside, flinging the doors wide and her hat across the room. Anyone would have been startled, even someone without Tuon's personal history of assassination attempts.
That wasn't the entire reason her heart was beating faster, of course. Tylin's Toy was incredibly attractive, even dirty and disheveled. Maybe especially dirty and disheveled. Tall and athletic, with heaving bosom, shoulder-length brown hair and carnelian eyes alight first with rage and then with dawning horror. She was animated, feral, breathtaking. Tuon was suddenly very glad for her veil and dark complexion, which combined to hide the heat in her face. Not that Toy seemed to be looking at her in particular... Frustrating.
Tylin was clearly embarrassed, perhaps beyond even what could be expected, accounting for the liberties taken in these lands. She kept commanding Toy to head down to the kitchens, and then the baths, but the woman continued to stare at the fireplace, unhearing. Perhaps she was in shock, but it couldn't just be from seeing guests in Tylin's rooms, could it? The mud and dirt and--yes, scrapes and blood--suggested an alternate explanation. One that would show why Tylin was so eager to send away the evidence. This would have to be addressed immediately, before Tylin and Suroth thought they could hide mismanagement or failures from her.
"This woman has been set upon," she said, rising. "You told me the streets were safe, Suroth!" Tuon let her tone match her new mood of cold disappointment. "I am displeased."
"I assure you, Tuon, the streets of Ebou Dar are as safe as the streets of Seandar itself," Suroth replied, sounding appropriately concerned. And just how safe are the streets of Seandar, Suroth? Tuon refrained from saying. They had never been particularly safe for her.
The male da'covale attempted to soothe Suroth with more wine, but Suroth's attention was focused on Tuon now, as it should be. Tuon waved him away. It was not yet time for kissing and making up. Speaking of kissing... no, it was entirely inappropriate to be wondering about that right now. Besides, the woman was Tylin's, and it would be a grave injustice to poach from her host and vassal, absent signs of mistreatment. Such as... cuts and scrapes? Indeed.
"I am displeased, Suroth," she repeated. "You have recovered much, and that will please the Empress, may she live forever, but your ill-considered attack eastward was a disaster that must not be repeated. And if the streets of this city are safe, how can she have been set upon?"
Suroth seethed with suppressed shame--her hands gripped the chair and the winecup tightly--and shot a look at Tylin that invited her to share in Tuon's stated displeasure. Tylin lowered her eyes, accepting the blame, but Tuon did not intend to let Suroth shift all of it to Tylin. Tylin had not been responsible for fifty thousand Seanchan soldiers!
"I fell down, that's all," Toy suddenly said. That set the torm on the horselines! Tuon was so genuinely startled, she couldn't hide her expression. She picked up the winecup, intending to take a steadying sip. "My Ladies," Toy added, with a slightly sick smile. Well, this was a lie if she'd ever heard one. Tuon shifted, about to speak, when Anath shot out her hand and whipped away her winecup as if it held poison. She flung it into the fireplace with much the same vehemence as Toy had used with the flat-brimmed black hat. Anath had the right--even the duty--to discipline her in public, if needed, but this was very abrupt.
"You are being foolish, Tuon," she said. "Suroth has the situation here well in her control. What happened to the east can happen in any battle. You must stop wasting time on ridiculous trifles."
Was she being ridiculous? Perhaps. But she did not think she was wasting time. Security problems in the city were diagnostic of larger issues. Was it not said that a child with a bag of gold could ride safely from end to end of the High King's empire? Ebou Dar would not reach that level overnight, but there was no room for complacency. Besides, she wanted to know what Toy was hiding.
Acknowledging the reproof with a small nod, she replied, "You may be right, Anath. Time and the omens will tell. But the young woman plainly is lying. Perhaps she fears Tylin's anger. But her injuries clearly are more than she could sustain falling down unless there are cliffs in the city I have not seen." That was perhaps a touch too dry, but Anath had been on the same raken survey she had. They both knew perfectly well there were no large elevation shifts in this seaside city.
Toy lounged on the staff she'd brought, feigning insouciance and favoring one of her long legs. "I was hurt the day your lads took the city. Your lot were flinging around lightning and balls of fire something fierce." Tuon noted the distancing language. This was not someone who welcomed the Corenne. "I'm just about healed, though, thank you for asking." The presence of the staff corroborated her story of previous injuries, and maybe went some way towards explaining the fresh ones. But Tuon was very good at catching lies, and Toy was lying about falling down, or at least not telling the whole truth. She needed to get closer to Toy. To examine her wounds, of course.
She went across the room to the taller woman and reached up to secure her face for inspection. At first Toy jerked back, like a nervous horse, but then she started pouting and stood still. Her face was dirty, and streaked with runnels of sweat besides, as if she had been fighting, or perhaps sprinting. The sprinting was unlikely, with that leg injury. But the dirt couldn't hide her lovely bone structure and good color. Turning Toy's jaw, she confirmed the scrapes were superficial and would heal well if cleaned soon. She felt a jaw muscle pulse under her hands and stifled a shiver. Time to pursue other questions.
"You fought us?" she asked. "You have sworn the oaths?"
"I swore," she muttered. "For the other, I had no chance."
"So you would have," she said, half to herself. If a person was not honorable enough to be held by oaths, more shameful methods had to be employed. Tuon pushed down an obscure sense of disappointment. Why should she care overmuch about the character of Tylin's Toy? Beauty wasn't everything.
Trailing her fingers around Toy's clothing- she was looking for rips and tears, she told herself firmly- she tried not to notice the generous curves of her breasts, or of her buttocks in those tight breeches. Breeches! On a woman! It did seem practical, but it was one of the stranger Ebou Dari customs she'd seen yet. If it was Ebou Dari in the first place. Toy had a different accent than the Altarans, a kind of smoky burr. And that scarf- she touched it, noting that it was made of fine silk. And what was it she felt under it, at her neck? Was that a scar? Had someone tried to behead her? Or hang her? What was this woman's story?
Shifting, she busied herself examining the embroidery on Toy's cloak. It was a pattern she'd never seen before. Surely worthy of some additional study, and if she held it at this angle she had an incredible view of those shapely calves... sighing inwardly, she moved her gaze up to Toy's hand. There was a signet ring there- could it be her family sigil? Peering closer at it, she froze. It was a fox, apparently startling two ravens into flight, with a crowning border of--oh, Light's own truth, as if she didn't already know this was an omen--phases of the moon. Nine phases of the moon.
Tuon stood stock-still, trying to fight off the wave of dizziness that was threatening to claim her for the first time in a decade.
Beware the fox that makes the ravens fly, for she will marry you and carry you away.
Beware the woman that remembers Hawkwing's face, for she will marry you and set you free.
Beware the woman of the Red Hand, for her you will marry and none other.
Was this grimy, gorgeous enemy of the empire her future wife?
Anath cut into her thoughts. "The girl told you how she was injured. If you want her, then buy her and be done. The day has been long, and you should be in your bed."
With difficulty, Tuon tore her gaze away from the ring, and dared to look at Toy's face again. No new secrets or omens were revealed. "Good advice, Anath." A sensible first step: ascertain Toy's legal status. If she was Tylin's by law, perhaps that meant she was not the one. It would be terribly embarrassing to marry manumitted property, though she would do it, if that was what the Pattern wove.
"How much for her, Tylin?" she said, keeping eye contact with Toy. "If she is a favorite, name your price, and I will double it."
That produced a reaction in Toy, who almost lost her balance on the staff. More strangely, it also produced a reaction in Tylin, who spluttered into her wine and started coughing. Finally, Tylin answered. "She is a free woman, High Lady. I... I cannot sell her."
So. She was not property. Yet Toy had a rather ironic expression. Did she disagree with the assessment? Or was she offended that Tylin would have considered letting her go? Looking past Toy, Tuon was suddenly aware of Anath's impatient stare from the corner. She could not let Anath know that her interest in Toy continued past this point. She could not let anyone know, not even Selucia. They would not understand, and she could not explain, not yet.
Besides, she had disrupted the balance of power here by her arrival, and by her attention to Tylin's Toy. Tylin must be imagining that Tuon meant to supplant her in every particular! Turning towards her, Tuon spoke words of reassurance. "You are afraid, Tylin, and under the Light, you should not be."
She lifted her veil and kissed Tylin as if she had already been raised to the High Blood, once on each eyelid and once on the lips. Formal greetings like this were light to begin with, but Tuon made sure to be especially gentle, for Tylin was still stiff with shock and fear. When she straightened back up again, Tylin's lips were parted in surprise and her eyes were wide. She was attractive, certainly, though not to Tuon's taste. "You are a sister to me, and to Suroth," Tuon added, more for Suroth's ears than Tylin's. "I myself will write your name as one of the Blood. You will be the High Lady Tylin as well as Queen of Altara, and more, as was promised you."
Anath huffed, loud enough to be heard by everyone.
"Yes, Anath, I know. The day has been long and arduous, and I am weary." She shifted her veil back into place. "But I will show Tylin what lands are in mind for her, so she will know and be easy in her mind. There are maps in my chambers, Tylin. You will honor me by accompanying me, there? I have excellent masseusses."
"The honor is mine," Tylin responded, though she did not sound much more reassured than before. Tuon and Suroth stood, along with Tylin, and Tuon made sure not to look again at Toy as they made ready to leave.