Towers of Midnight (99 page)

"That isn't going to happen," Perrin said softly. "The Two Rivers will have lords, now. I fought it fot a time. You may, too, but it won't change anything."

"Perhaps," Elayne said. "But recognizing you would be to agree that a man can just claim a title within my nation, then keep it by stubbornly gathering an army. It makes for a terrible precedenr, Perrin. I don't think you realize the predicament you've put me in."

"We'll muddle through," Perrin said in that stubborn tone he used when he wasn't going to budge. "I'm not stepping down."

"You're doing a poor job of persuading me you will accept my authority," Elayne snapped.

Not good, Faile thought, opening her mouth to jump in. A clash here would not serve them well.

Before she could speak, however, another voice cut in. "Daughter," Morgase said softly, drinking her tea. "If you plan to dance with ta'veren, be sure that you know the proper steps. I've traveled with this man. I've seen the world bend around him; I've seen bitter enemies become his allies. To fight the Pattern itself is to try to move a mountain with a spoon."

Elayne hesitated, looking at her mother.

"Please forgive me if I overstep myself," Morgase continued. "But Elayne, I promised these two that I would speak for them. I told you I would. Andor is strong, but I fear it could break itself against this man. He does not want your throne, I promise it, and the Two Rivers does need supervision. Would it be such a terrible thing to let them have the man they themselves have chosen?"

The small room fell silent. Elayne eyed Perrin, sizing him up. Faile held her breath.

"All right," Elayne said. "I assume you've come with demands. Let's hear them so we can discover if there's anything that can be done."

"No demands," Faile said. "An offer."

Elayne raised an eyebrow.

"Your mother is right," Faile said. "Perrin does not want your throne."

"What you two want may be irrelevant once your people get an idea in their minds."

Faile shook her head. "They love him, Your Majesty. They respect him. They'll do what he says. We can and will put down ideas of Manetheren rising again."

"And why would you do that?" Elayne asked. "I know how fast the Two Rivers is growing with those refugees coming in over the mountains. Nations could rise and fall with the coming of the Last Battle. You have no reason to give up the chance to form your own kingdom."

"Actually," Faile said, "we have good reason. Andor is a strong nation, and prosperous. The towns in the Two Rivers may be growing rapidly, but the people have barely begun to want a lord. They're still farmers at heart. They don't want glory; they want their crops to survive." Faile paused. "Perhaps you're right, perhaps there will be another Breaking, but that's only more reason to have allies. Nobody wants civil war in Andor, least of all the Two Rivers folk."

"What do you propose, then?" Elayne said.

"Nothing, really, that doesn't exist already," Faile said. "Give Perrin an official title and make him High Lord over the Two Rivers."

"And what do you mean by 'High Lord?" Elayne asked.

"He'd rank higher than othet noble Houses in Andor, but beneath the Queen."

"I doubt the others would like that," Elayne said. "What of taxes?"

"The Two Rivets is exempt," Faile said. As Elayne's expression soured, she continued quickly. "Your Majesty, the throne ignored the Two Rivers for generations, not protecting them from bandits or sending workers to improve their roads, not giving them anything in the way of magistrates or justices."

"They didn't need it," Elayne said. "They governed themselves fine." She left unsaid that the Two Rivers folk would probably have tossed out tax collectors, magistrates or justices sent by the Queen
 
but she seemed to know it.

"Well," Faile said, "nothing needs change, then. The Two Rivers governs itself."

"You could have tariff-free trade with them," Alliandre said. "Something I already have," Elayne said.

"So nothing changes," Faile said again. "Except that you gain a powerful province to the west. Petrin, as yout ally and subject lord, will agree to marshal troops in your defense. He will also call up his sworn monarchs to your allegiance."

Elayne glanced at Alliandre. She'd probably heard of Alliandre's swearing from Morgase, but also would want to hear it for herself.

"I swore fealty to Lord Perrin," Alliandre said. "Ghealdan had long lacked strong allies. I meant to change that."

"Yout Majesty," Faile said, leaning forward, tea cupped in her hands before her. "Perrin spent several weeks with some Seanchan officers. They have created a great pact of nations allied beneath one banner. Rand al'Thor, though you may trust him as a friend, has done the same. Tear, Illian, and maybe now Arad Doman are beneath his rule. Nations join rather than split, these days. Andor looks smaller by the hour."

"That's why I did what I did," Alliandre said.

Well, in Faile's view, Alliandre had been caught up by Perrin as a ta'veren. There hadn't been much planning. But Alliandre might see it otherwise.

"Your Majesty," Faile continued, "there is much to gain here. Through my marriage to Perrin, you gain a tie to Saldaea. Through Alliandre's oaths, you gain Ghealdan. Berelain also follows Perrin and has often mentioned her desire to find strong allies for Mayene. If we were to speak with her, I suspect she might be willing to make an alliance with us. We could create our own pact. Five nations, if you count the Two Rivers as one
 
six, if you do take the Sun Throne, as rumor claims you will. We are not the most powerful nations, but the many are stronger than the one. And you would be at our head."

Elayne's face had lost almost all of its hostility. "Saldaea. What are you in its line of succession?"

"I'm second," Faile admitted, which Elayne probably already knew. Perrin shifted in his chair. She knew he was still uncomfortable with that fact; well, he would simply have to get used to it.

"Second is too close," Elayne replied. "What if you end up with the throne of Saldaea? I could lose the Two Rivers to another country that way."

"This is easy to fix," Alliandre said. "If Faile were to ascend, one of her and Perrin's children could continue as Lord of the Two Rivers. Another could take the throne of Saldaea. Put it in writing, and you will be protected."

"I could accept such an arrangement," Elayne said.

"I don't have problems with it," Faile replied, looking at Perrin.

"I suppose."

"I should like one of them myself," Elayne said thoughtfully. "One of your children, I mean, to marry into the Andoran royal line. If the Two Rivers is to be ruled by a lord with as much power as this treaty would give him, then I would love to have blood connections to the throne."

"I won't promise that," Perrin said. "My children will make their own choices."

"It is sometimes the way of nobility," Elayne said. "It would be unusual, but not unheard of, for children like ours to be engaged from birth."

"We won't do it that way in the Two Rivers," Perrin said stubbornly. "Ever."

Faile shrugged. "We could offer encouragement, Your Majesty."

Elayne hesitated, then nodded. "That will be fine. But the other Houses won't like this 'High Lord' business. There'd need to be a way around it . . ."

"Give the Two Rivers to the Dragon Reborn," Morgase said.

Elayne's eyes lit up. "Yes. That would work. If I gave the area to him to be his seat in Andor . . ."

Faile opened her mouth, but Elayne cut her off with a wave of the hand. "This isn't negotiable. I'll need some way to convince the other lords and ladies that I'm right to give the Two Rivers so much autonomy. If the lands are granted to the Dragon Reborn, giving him a title in Andor and making the Two Rivers his seat, then it will make sense for your home to be treated differently.

"The noble Houses of Andor will accept this, since the Two Rivers is where Rand came from, and Andor does owe him a debt. We'll have him appoint Perrin's line as his stewards. Instead of capitulating to tebels within my borders, I'll be seen allowing the Dragon Reborn, the man I love, to elevate his good friend. It might also give us some ground against the Illian-Tear pact you mentioned, who are bound to claim that theit ties to Rand give them the right of conquest." She grew thoughtful, tapping the side of her cup.

"That seems reasonable," Perrin said, nodding. "Steward of the Two Rivers. I like the sound of that."

"Yes, well," Faile said. "I guess it's settled, then."

"The taxes," Elayne said, as if she hadn't heard. "You put them into a trust to be administered by Perrin and his line, with the understanding that if the Dragon ever returns, he can call upon them. Yes. That gives us a legal excuse for your exemption. Of course, Perrin will have authority to dip into those funds to improve the Two Rivers. Roads, food stores, defenses."

Elayne looked at Faile, then smiled, taking a long drink of tea. "I'm beginning to think it was a good idea not to execute you."

"That's certainly a relief," Alliandre said, smiling. As the least power-ful one in the union, she stood to gain a lot from the alliances.

"Your Majesty
 
" Faile said.

"Call me Elayne," she said, pouring a goblet of wine for Faile.

"Very well, Elayne," Faile said, smiling and putting aside her tea, then accepting the wine. "I need to ask. Do you know what is happening with the Dtagon Reborn?"

"Ox-brained lummox," Elayne said, shaking her head. "The bloody man's got Egwene all riled up."

"Egwene?" Perrin asked.

"She's Amyrlin, finally," Elayne said, as if the fact had been inevitable. Perrin nodded, though Faile found herself amazed. How had that happened, and why wasn't Petrin surprised by it?

"What's he gone and done?" Perrin asked.

"He says he's going to break the remaining seals of the Dark One's prison," Elayne said, frowning. "We'll need to stop him, of course. Foolish plan. You could help with that. Egwene's gathering a force to persuade him."

"I think I could be of help," Perrin said.

"Do you know where he is currently?" Faile asked. Perrin had a good idea, from his visions, but she wanted to know what Elayne knew. "I don't know," Elayne said. "But I do know where he will be . . ."

Fortuona Athaem Devi Paendrag, ruler of the Glorious Seanchan Empire, marched into her Teaching Chamber. She wore a magnificent gown of golden cloth, cut after the highest Imperial fashion. The skirt split at the front to just above the knees, and was so long that it took five da'covale to catry the sides and train.

She wore an ornate headdress, of gold and crimson silk with beautiful silken wings shaped like those of an owl taking flight, and her arms glittered with thirteen bracelets, each of a different gemstone combination. She wore crystal at her throat in a long strand. She had heard an owl above her window the last night, and it had not flown away when she looked out. An omen indicating great care should be taken, that the next days would be ones of important decisions. The proper response was to weat jewelty with powetful symbolism.

When she entered the chamber, those inside prostrated themselves. Only the Deathwatch Guard
 
men in armor of blood red and deep green
 
 
was exempt; they bowed, but kept theit eyes up, watching for danger.

The large chamber was windowless. Lines of stacked pottery stood at one end, a place for damane to practice weaves of destruction. The floor was covered in woven mats where stubborn damane were sent to the ground, writhing in pain. It would not do for them to be harmed physically. Damane were among the most important tools the Empire had, more valuable than horses or raken. You did not destroy a beast because it was slow to learn; you punished it until it learned.

Fortuona crossed the chambet to whete a proper Imperial Throne had been set up. She commonly came here, to watch the damane being worked or broken. It soothed her. The throne was atop a small dais; she climbed the steps, train rustling as her da'covale carried it. She turned to face the room, allowing the servants to arrange her dress. They took her by her arms and lifted her back into the throne, draping her long golden skirts down the front of the dais like a tapestry.

Those skirts were sewn with the writings of Imperial power. The Empress IS Seanchan. The Empress WILL live forever. The Empress MUST be obeyed. She sat as a living banner to the might of the Empire.

Selucia took her position on the lower steps of the dais. This done, the

courtiers raised themselves. The damane, of course, remained kneeling. There were ten of them, with heads bowed, their suldam holding their leashes and
 
in a few cases
 
patting them affectionately on the heads.

King Beslan entered. He'd shaved most of his head, leaving only a dark strip on the top, and seven of his fingernails had been lacquered. One more fingernail than anyone on this side of the ocean, excepting Fortuona herself. He still wore Altaran clothing
 
a uniform of green and white
 
 
rather than Seanchan robes. She had not pressed him on this.