"Well," Mat said, reining Pips back to ride beside Vanin, "which of those mountains is it? Maybe we should go ask Master Roidelle again."
The map belonged to the master mapmaker; it was only because of his presence that they'd been able to find this roadway in the first place. But Vanin insisted on being the one to guide the troop—a mapmaker wasn't the same thing as a scout. You didn't have a dusty cartographer ride out and lead the way for you, Vanin insisted.
In truth, Master Roidelle didn't have a lot of experience being a guide. He was a scholar, an academic. He could explain a map for you perfectly, but he had as much trouble as Vanin making sense of where they were, since this roadway was so disjointed and broken, the pines high enough to obscure landmarks, the hilltops all nearly identical.
Of course, there was also the fact that Vanin seemed threatened by the presence of the mapmaker, as if he were worried about being unseated from his position guiding Mat and the Band. Mat had never expected such an emotion from the overweight horsethief. It might have been enough to make him amused if they weren't lost so much of the flaming time.
Vanin scowled. "I think that has to be Mount Sardlen. Yes. It's got to be."
"Which means . . . ?"
"Which means we keep heading along the roadway," Vanin said. "The same thing I told you an hour ago. We can't bloody march an army through a forest this thick, now can we? That means staying on the stones."
"I'm just asking," Mat said, pulling down the brim of his hat against the sun. "A commander's got to ask things like this."
felt she should be shocked. But, oddly, she wasn't. So Matrim was not mistaken about this, she signed covertly to Selucia. And she had assumed Trollocs to be nothing more than superstition. She glanced at the heads again. Revolting.
Selucia seemed troubled. Are there other things he said that we discounted, I wonder?
Tuon hesitated. We shall have to ask him. I should very much like to have him back. She froze; she hadn't meant to admit so much. She found her own emotions curious, however. She had felt safe with him, ridiculous though it seemed. And she wished he were with her now.
These heads were yet another proof that she knew very little of him. She reasserted control of the chattering crowd. Selucia Voiced, "You will silence yourselves."
The room fell still, though the Blood and the sul'dam still looked very disturbed. Tylee still knelt, head bowed, the soldier who had borne the heads kneeling beside her. Yes, she would have to be thoroughly questioned.
"This news changes little," Selucia Voiced. "We were already aware that the Last Battle approaches. We appreciate Lieutenant-General Tylee's revelations. She is to be commended. But this only makes it more urgent that we subdue the Dragon Reborn."
There were several nods from those in the room, including General Galgan. Beslan did not seem so quickly persuaded. He just looked troubled.
"If it pleases the Highest Daughter," Tylee said, bowing.
"You are allowed to speak."
"These last few weeks, I have seen many things that have given me thought," Tylee said. "Even before my troops were attacked, I was worried. The wisdom and grace of the Highest Daughter undoubtedly let her see further than one such as I, but I believe that our conquests so far in this land have been easy compared to what might come. If I may be so bold ... I believe that the Dragon Reborn and those associated with him may make better allies than enemies."
It was a bold statement. Tuon leaned forward, lacquered nails clicking on the armrests of her chair. Many of the low Blood would be so in awe at meeting one of the Empress's household, much less the Highest Daughter, that they would not dare speak. Yet this woman offered suggestions? In direct opposition to Tuon's published will?
"A difficult decision is not always a decision where both sides are equally matched, Tuon," Selucia said suddenly. "Perhaps, in this case, a difficult decision is one that is right, but requires an implication of fault as well."
Tuon blinked in surprise. Yes, she realized. Selucia is my Truthspeaker now. It would take time to accustom herself to the woman in that role. It had been years since Selucia had corrected or reproved her in public.
And yet, meeting with the Dragon Reborn, in person? She did need to contact him, and had planned to. But would it not be bettet to go to him in strength, his armies defeated, the White Tower torn down? She needed him brought to the Crystal Throne under very controlled circumstances, with the understanding that he was to submit to her authority.
And yet . . . with Seanchan in rebellion . . . with her position here in Altara barely stabilized . . . Well, perhaps some time to think—some time to take a few deep breaths and secure what she already had—would be worth delaying her strike on the White Tower.
"General Galgan, send raken to our forces in Almoth Plain and eastern Altara," she said firmly. "Tell them to hold our interests, but avoid confrontation with the Dragon Reborn. And reply to his request for a meeting. The Daughter of the Nine Moons will meet with him."
General Galgan nodded, bowing.
Order must be brought to the world. If she had to do that by lowering her eyes slightly and meeting with the Dragon Reborn, then so be it.
Oddly, she felt herself wishing—once again—that Matrim were still with her. She could have put his knowledge of this Rand al'Thor to good use in preparing for the meeting. Stay well, you curious man, she thought, glancing back at the balcony, northward. Do not dig yourself into trouble deeper than you can climb to freedom. You are Prince of the Ravens now. Remember to act appropriately.
Wherever it is you are.
CHAPTER 20
On a Broken Road