Tarasin Palace, Ebou Dar [Midwinter. Still. At least the heat broke?]
"Suroth is going to show me how much of Altara I control now, pigeon," Tylin told Mat, idly tracing her one of his scars with a long, green-laquered fingernail as they laid in bed together. "It wasn't her idea, actually. Tuon thinks it will help me if I see with my own eyes, and what that girl suggests, Suroth does. She would like to see it done by yesterday, though. We'll be going by to'raken, so to cover the ground quickly--as much as two hundred miles in a day, it seems." She chuckled. "Oh, don't look sick, piglet. I won't make you climb on one of those things."
Mat heaved a great sigh of relief. It hadn't been the prospect of flying that upset him--he had liked what little he'd tried of it in Karla's dream web...thing--but if he was out of Ebou Dar for any amount of time, the Light only knew what idiocy Beslan would get up to, and the captive Aes Sedai would no doubt try to escape on their own and get everyone killed.
"I'll be gone little more than a week, sweetling. Hmmm." Her green fingernail traced the foot-long puckering scar that slanted across his ribs. "Shall I tie you to the bed to keep you safe?" Returning her wicked smile with his most winning grin took a bit of effort. Mat was fairly certain she was joking, but only fairly.
Tylin hadn't been kidding about Suroth's impatience. In little more than two hours, Mat--stuffed into a brilliantly red coat-and-breeches combination with falls of lace at his wrists and neck that only made the red seem redder--was up on his horse Pips for the first time since a building had collapsed upon him and making his way back from the docks where he'd accompanied Tylin, Suroth, and a cast of bloody thousands for their expedition.
His leg was beginning to stiffen up on him, but he couldn't pass up the opportunity to get some real intelligence on how difficult it was going to be to smuggle a few Aes Sedai out of the city. By the time he was back in Mol Hara Square, he'd counted more than twenty sul'dam patrolling the docks with damane, poking their noses into any boats leaving that were not Seanchan. He sighed as he dismounted, and only half because the exertion had hurt. The only way out seemed to be through the city gates--only guarded by a two or three sul'dam and their damanes and then fleeing to Luca's bloody circus. And he had a week to figure this out.
He went back to his room, dispatching his manservants to dig his real clothes out of the moldy closet full of Beslan's old toys where the queen had stashed them, and his eyes lit upon the invitation to Fandom's homecoming. He wouldn't bring any of the girls back to Ebou Dar--he wouldn't risk them with this many sul'dam around--but maybe Merlin. The Seanchan weren't looking for men who could channel (not that he blamed them, it was the first sensible thing he'd seen them do), but he could certainly use that to his advantage.
Fifteen minutes later, dressed in a simple blue coat and black breeches--no bloody lace--he was accidentally making teeth impressions into the soft gold of the pen he was wielding as he wrote up a letter to send to Arthur, inviting him and Merlin to visit.
Immediately.
He could already hear the dice beginning to rattle in his head.
[OOC: Adapted from Winter's Heart by Robert Jordan. I swear we'll be in a new book soon.]
Mat heaved a great sigh of relief. It hadn't been the prospect of flying that upset him--he had liked what little he'd tried of it in Karla's dream web...thing--but if he was out of Ebou Dar for any amount of time, the Light only knew what idiocy Beslan would get up to, and the captive Aes Sedai would no doubt try to escape on their own and get everyone killed.
"I'll be gone little more than a week, sweetling. Hmmm." Her green fingernail traced the foot-long puckering scar that slanted across his ribs. "Shall I tie you to the bed to keep you safe?" Returning her wicked smile with his most winning grin took a bit of effort. Mat was fairly certain she was joking, but only fairly.
Tylin hadn't been kidding about Suroth's impatience. In little more than two hours, Mat--stuffed into a brilliantly red coat-and-breeches combination with falls of lace at his wrists and neck that only made the red seem redder--was up on his horse Pips for the first time since a building had collapsed upon him and making his way back from the docks where he'd accompanied Tylin, Suroth, and a cast of bloody thousands for their expedition.
His leg was beginning to stiffen up on him, but he couldn't pass up the opportunity to get some real intelligence on how difficult it was going to be to smuggle a few Aes Sedai out of the city. By the time he was back in Mol Hara Square, he'd counted more than twenty sul'dam patrolling the docks with damane, poking their noses into any boats leaving that were not Seanchan. He sighed as he dismounted, and only half because the exertion had hurt. The only way out seemed to be through the city gates--only guarded by a two or three sul'dam and their damanes and then fleeing to Luca's bloody circus. And he had a week to figure this out.
He went back to his room, dispatching his manservants to dig his real clothes out of the moldy closet full of Beslan's old toys where the queen had stashed them, and his eyes lit upon the invitation to Fandom's homecoming. He wouldn't bring any of the girls back to Ebou Dar--he wouldn't risk them with this many sul'dam around--but maybe Merlin. The Seanchan weren't looking for men who could channel (not that he blamed them, it was the first sensible thing he'd seen them do), but he could certainly use that to his advantage.
Fifteen minutes later, dressed in a simple blue coat and black breeches--no bloody lace--he was accidentally making teeth impressions into the soft gold of the pen he was wielding as he wrote up a letter to send to Arthur, inviting him and Merlin to visit.
Immediately.
He could already hear the dice beginning to rattle in his head.
[OOC: Adapted from Winter's Heart by Robert Jordan. I swear we'll be in a new book soon.]