Beslan rose, though he kept his gaze averted. He was a fine actor.
"The Daughter of the Nine Moons expresses her condolences to you for your loss," Selucia said to him.
"I give the same to her for her loss," he said. "My grief is but a candle to the great fire felt by the Seanchan people."
He was too servile. He was a king; he was not required to bow himself so far. He was the equal of many of the Blood.
She could almost have believed he was just being submissive before the woman who would soon become Empress. But she knew too much of his temperament, through both spies and hearsay.
"The Daughter of the Nine Moons wishes to know the reason you have ceased holding court," Selucia said, watching Tuon's hands move. "She finds it distressing that your people cannot have audience with their king. Your mother's death was as tragic as it was shocking, but your kingdom needs you."
Beslan bowed. "Please have her know that I did not think it appropriate to elevate myself above her. I am uncertain how to act. I meant no insult."
"Are you certain that is the true reason?" Selucia Voiced. "It is not, perhaps, because you are planning a rebellion against us, and do not have time for your other duties?"
Beslan looked up sharply, eyes wide. "Your Majesty, I—"
"You need not speak any further lies, child of Tylin," Tuon said directly to him, causing gasps of surprise from the assembled Blood. "I know of the things you have said to General Habiger and your friend, Lord Malalin. I know of your quiet meetings in the basement of The Three Stars. I know of it all, King Beslan."
The room fell silent, Beslan bowed his head for a moment. Then, surprisingly, he rose to his feet and stared her directly in the eyes. She wouldn't have thought the soft-spoken youth had it in him. "I will not allow my people to—"
"I would still my tongue if I were you," Tuon interrupted. "You stand on sand as it is."
Beslan hesitated. She could see the question in his eyes. Wasn't she going to execute him? /// intended to kill you, she thought, you would be dead already, and you would never have seen the knife.
"Seanchan is in upheaval," Tuon said, regarding him. He appeared shocked at the words. "Oh, did you think I would ignore it, Beslan? I am not content to stare at the stars while my empire collapses around me. The truth must be acknowledged. My mother is dead. There is no empress.
"However, the forces of the Corenne are more than sufficient to maintain our positions here on this side of the ocean, Altara included." She leaned forward, trying to project a sense of control, offirmness. Her mother had been able to do so at all times. Tuon did not have her mother's height, but she would need that aura. Others had to feel safer, more secure, simply by entering her presence.
"In times such as these," Tuon continued, "threats of rebellion cannot be tolerated. Many will see opportunity in the Empire's weakness, and their divisive squabbling—if left unchecked—would prove the end of us all. Therefore, I must be firm. Very firm. With those who defy me."
"Then why," Beslan said, "am I still alive?"
"You started planning your rebellion before events in the Empire were made known."
. Here in Ebou Dar, there was order, even in the fields of tents and wagons outside the city. Seanchan soldiers patrolled and kept the peace; there were plans to clean out the Rahad. Just because one was poor was not a reason—or an excuse—to live without law.
But this city was just a tiny, tiny pocket of order in a world of tempest. Seanchan itself was broken by civil war, now that the empress had died. The Corenne had come, but recapturing these lands of Artur Hawkwing progressed slowly, stalled by the Dragon Reborn in the east and Domani armies in the north. She still waited to hear news of Lieutenant-General Turan, but the signs were not good. Galgan maintained that they might be surprised at the outcome, but Tuon had seen a black dove the hour she was informed of Turan's predicament. The omen had been clear. He would not return alive.
Chaos. She glanced to the side, where faithful Karede stood in his thick armor, colored blood-red and a deep green, nearly black. He was a tall man, square face nearly as solid as the armor he wore. He had fully two dozen Deathwatch Guards with him this day—the day after Tuon's return to Ebou Dar—along with six Ogier Gardeners, all standing along the walls. They lined the sides of the high-ceilinged, white-pillared room. Karede sensed the chaos, and did not intend to let her be taken again. Chaos was the most deadly when you made assumptions about what it could and couldn't infect. Here in Ebou Dar, it manifested in the form of a faction intent on taking Tuon's own life.
She had been dodging assassinations since she could walk, and she had survived them all. She anticipated them. In a way, she thrived because of them. How were you to know that you were powerful unless assassins were sent to kill you?
Suroth's betrayal, however . . . Chaos, indeed, when the leader of the Forerunners herself turned traitor. Bringing the world back into order was going to be very, very difficult. Perhaps impossible.
Tuon straightened her back. She had not thought to become Empress for many years yet. But she would do her duty.
She turned away from the balcony and walked back into the audience chamber to face the crowd awaiting her. Like the others of the Blood, she wore ashes on her cheeks to mourn the loss of the Empress. Tuon had little affection for her mother, but affection was not needed for an empress. She provided order and stability. Tuon had only begun to understand the importance of these things as the weight had settled on her shoulders.
The chamber was wide and rectangular, lit with candelabras between the pillars and the radiant glow of sunlight through the wide balcony behind. Tuon had ordered the room's rugs removed, preferring the bright white tiles. The ceiling bore a painted mural of fishers at sea, with gulls in the clear air, and the walls were a soft blue. A group of ten da'covale knelt before the candelabras to Tuon's right. They wore filmy costumes, waiting for a command. Suroth was not among them. The Deathwatch Guard saw to her, at least until her hair grew out.
As soon as Tuon entered the room, all of the commoners bowed on knees with foreheads to the ground. Those of the Blood knelt, bowing their heads.
Across from the da'covale, on the other side of the hall, Lanelle and Melitene knelt in dresses emblazoned with silver lightning bolts in red panels on their skirts. Their leashed damane knelt facedown. Tuon's kidnapping had been unbearable to several of the damane; they had taken to inconsolable weeping during her absence.
Her audience chair was relatively simple. A wooden seat with black velvet on the arms and back. She sat down, wearing a pleated gown of the deepest sea blue, a white cape fluttering behind her. As soon as she did, the people in the room rose from their positions of adulation—all save the da'covak, who remained kneeling. Selucia stood and stepped up beside the chair, her golden hair in a braid down her right side, the left side of her head shaven. She did not wear the ashes, since she was not of the Blood, but the white band on her arm indicated that she—like the entire Empire—mourned the loss of the Empress.
Yuril, Tuon's secretary and secretly her Hand, stepped up to the other side of the chair. The Deathwatch Guards moved in subtly around her, dark armor glittering faintly in the sunlight. They had been particularly protective of her lately. She didn't blame them, recent events considered.