The Gathering Storm - By Robert Jordan & Brandon Sanderson Page 0,272

Abominations best killed quickly. In Seanchan, there had been a very few who—in their lust for an unanticipated edge—had tried to train these Tsorov’ande Doon, these Black-Souled Tempests. The fools had fallen quickly, often destroyed by the very tools that they sought to control.

Tuon steeled herself. Karede and the Deathwatch Guards around her grew tense. It was subtle—fists tightening at their sides, breaths inhaled and released slowly. Tuon didn’t turn toward them, though she made a covert gesture to Selucia.

“You are to maintain your calm,” the Voice said softly to the men.

They would do so—they were Deathwatch Guard. Tuon hated to make the comment, as it would lower their eyes. But she would not have a mishap. Meeting with the Dragon Reborn would be dangerous. There was no avoiding that. Even with twenty damane and sul’dam on each side of the pavilion. Even with Karede at her back and Captain Musenge and a force of archers watching from a covered rooftop just within bowshot. Even with Selucia at her right, tense and ready to pounce, like a jagwin on the high rocks. Even with all of that, Tuon was exposed. The Dragon Reborn was a bonfire inexplicably lit inside a house. You could not prevent it from damaging the room. You just hoped to save the building.

He walked directly to the chair opposite Tuon and sat down, never once questioning that she had set him as her equal. She knew that the others wondered why she still wore the ashes of mourning, why she hadn’t proclaimed herself Empress. The mourning period was over, but Tuon had not taken her throne.

It was because of this man. The Empress could not meet anyone, not even the Dragon Reborn, as an equal. The Daughter of the Nine Moons, however . . . this one man could be her equal. And so she had hesitated. The Dragon Reborn would not likely respond well to another setting herself above him, no matter if that other had a perfectly legitimate reason for doing so.

As he sat down, a distant flare of lightning arced between two clouds, though Malai—one of the damane who could tell fortunes of the weather—had insisted that no rain was near. Lightning on a day without rain. Tread very lightly, she thought, reading the omen, and be careful what you speak. Not the most illuminating of omens. If she trod any more carefully, she would have to take flight into the air!

“You are the Daughter of the Nine Moons,” the Dragon Reborn said. It was a statement, not a question.

“You are the Dragon Reborn,” she replied. Looking into those slatelike eyes, she realized that she had been wrong in her first impression. He was not a young man. Yes, his body might be that of a youth. But those eyes . . . those were old eyes.

He leaned forward slightly. Her Deathwatch Guards tensed, leather creaking. “We will make peace,” al’Thor said. “Today. Here.”

Selucia hissed softly. His words sounded a great deal like a demand. Tuon had shown him great respect by placing him at her level, but one did not give orders to the Imperial family.

Al’Thor glanced at Selucia. “You can tell your bodyguard that she can relax,” he said dryly. “This meeting will not turn to conflict. I will not allow it.”

“She is my Voice,” Tuon said carefully, “and my Truthspeaker. My bodyguard is the man behind my chair.”

Al’Thor snorted softly. So he was an observant man. Or a lucky one. Few had correctly guessed Selucia’s nature.

“You wish for peace,” Tuon said. “Have you terms for your . . . offer?”

“It is not an offer, but a necessity,” al’Thor said. He spoke with softness. All of these people spoke with such quick words, yet al’Thor’s had a weight to them. He reminded her of her mother. “The Last Battle comes. Surely your people remember the prophecies. By prosecuting this war of yours, you endanger us all. My forces—everyone’s forces—are needed in the struggle against the Shadow.”

The Last Battle would be between the Empire and the forces of the Dark One. Everybody knew that. The prophecies clearly showed that the Empress would defeat those who served the Shadow, and then she would send the Dragon Reborn in to duel with Lighteater.

How much had he fulfilled? He didn’t seem blinded yet, so that had yet to happen. The Essanik Cycle said that he would stand on his own grave and weep. Or did that prophecy refer to the dead walking, as they did