Valan Luca's Grand Traveling Show & Magnificent Display of Marvels & Wonders [Ebou Dar (still)]

Aug 31, 2010 17:06

The boxlike wagon reminded Mat of Tinker wagons he had seen, a little house on wheels, though this one, filled with cabinets and workbenches built into the walls was not made for living in. Wrinkling his nose at the smells that filled the interior, he shifted uncomfortably on his three-legged stool, the only place for anyone to sit. His broken leg and ribs were near enough healed, and the cuts that he had suffered when that whole bloody building fell on his head, but the injuries still pained him now and then. Besides, he was hoping for sympathy. Women loved to show sympathy, if you played it out right.

"Listen, Aludra," he said, assuming his most winning smile and trying not to twist the long signet ring on his finger nervously, "by this time you must know the Seanchan won't look twice at fireworks. Those damane do something called Sky Lights that make your best fireworks look like a few sparks flying up the chimney. No offense meant."

"Me, I have not seen these so-called Sky Lights," she replied dismissively in her strong Taraboner accent. Her head was bent over a wooden mortar the size of a small keg, her waist-length hair pulled back with a blue ribbon and the white apron she wore over her dark green dress doing nothing to conceal how well it fit her, but Mat was more interested in what she was doing.

Well. As interested.

"In any event," she went on, unaware of his scrutiny as she ground a coarse black powder with a wooden pestle as long as her arm, "I will not give you the Guild secrets. You understand this, yes?"

Mat winced. He had been working her for days to bring her to this point, all the while dreading she would mention the Illuminators' Guild. "You don't have to worry about the Guild. You've been making nightflowers for how long and no one has come to stop you? Why, I'll wager you never see another Illuminator."

Mostly because of the rumors he'd heard coming out of Tarabon.

She crossed her arms under her breasts and sniffed. "Tell me!" she commanded.

"I was playing at dice with some Seanchan down near the docks," he said reluctantly, keeping a careful eye on the pestle. A woman could crack your skull on a whim, and his hip was aching and stiff from sitting still too long. He wasn't sure how quickly he could move from the stool. "The Guild doesn't exist any more, Aludra. The chapter house is gone. They refused to let Seanchan soldiers inside the compound and fought, tried to, when they broke in anyway. I don't know what happened, but half the compound exploded." Bloody and ashes, he didn't want to be the one to tell her this. "The Seanchan believed the Illuminators used the One Power and they gathered up everyone left alive at the chapter house, some Illuminators who had gone to Amador, and everyone in between who even looked like an Illuminator and they made them all da'covale. That means--"

"I know what it means!" she said fiercely. Swinging back to the mortar, she began pounding with the pestle so hard Mat began to be afraid that the whole place might explode if that powder, as he believed, was what ended up inside of fireworks. "You are wrong, my young friend. So long as one Illuminator lives, the Guild lives too, and me, I still live!" She wiped her hands against her cheek. "Besides, what would you do if I did give you fireworks? Hurl them at the Seanchan with a catapault?"

Mat snorted. His time at Fandom had given him a much better idea than that. "The tubes you use to toss nightflowers into the sky. Three hundred paces or more, you said. Tip one to the side and it will toss a nightflower a thousand paces. Those tubes are a lot smaller than a catapault. If they were well hidden, the Seanchan would never know where they were coming from."

Turning her head, she gave him a look of respect. "That is not bad for one who only saw the lofting tubes a few days ago."

Mat wasn't going to mention his time spent studying war in a different dimension. It really was a bit bloody stupid no one here had come up with something like a cannon before now.

"You will go now," she declared. "I have the work to do and you are distracting." She leaned in and in a decidedly warmer tone added, "I might think of kissing such a smart young man as you if you did not belong to another. You have such a pretty bottom."

He jerked erect, keeping his back to her. The heat in his face was pure outrage, but she was sure to say he was blushing. He could usually manage to forget what he was wearing unless someone brought it up. While he was flat on his back with his leg in splints and his ribs strapped and bandages just about everywhere else, Tylin had hidden all of his clothes. All that remained of his own were his hat and the black silk scarf tied around his neck. And the silvery foxhead medallion, of course. And his knives. But other than that! When he finally managed to crawl out of that bloody bed, the bloody woman had had new clothes made for him, with her sitting there watching the bloody seamstress! Snowy lace at his wrists almost hide his bloody hands if he wasn't careful, and more spilled from his neck almost to his bloody waist. His cloak was a brilliant scarlet, as red as his too-tight breeches, and edged with golden scrollwork and white roses of all bloody things. Not to mention a white oval on his left shoulder with Tylin's bloody House symbol. His coat was blue enough for a Tinker, worked in red and gold Tairen mazes across the chest and down the sleeves. He'd been able to convince Tylin to leave off the pearls and sapphires (though he wasn't about to dwell on exactly what he'd done to get that result), but the coat was far too short. Tylin liked his bloody bottom, too, and didn't seem to mind who saw it. He could just hear Arthur's voice in his head offering dry commentary on his outfit.

Settling the cloak on his shoulders--it offered some covering at least--he grabbed his walking stick and left the wagon with as much dignity as he could muster. "I'll return in two or three days," he said before slamming the door behind him.

Blood and ashes, he was ta'veren! He was supposed to shape the world around him! But here he was, stuck in Ebou Dar, Tylin's pet and toy, while everyone else was having a fine time elsewhere. It wasn't bloody fair.

Thom and Beslan were where Mat had left them, drinking with Luca in front of Luca's amazingly tacky wagon. Sprawled in a gilded chair he must have stolen from a palace, Luca was laughing and making expansive, lordly gestures until he spied Mat, then his smile faded to a sour grimace. Eyeing Mat up and down as if he had room to judge what another man was wearing, he swept his ridiculous cloak (red with stars and comets embroidered upon it, enough to make a Tinker weep) around himself in a wide flourish and announced, "I am a busy man. I have much to do." Without another word he strode away, cloak rippling like a banner.

Mat rolled his eyes. "Has he agreed yet, Thom?" he asked quietly.

"We can travel with him when he leaves Ebou Dar," the man replied, "for a price." He snorted and raked his hands through his white hand. "We should eat and sleep like kings for what he wants, but knowing him, I doubt we will. Unfortunately, he doesn't intend to leave until spring at the earliest."

Mat considered several choice curses. "Gives me more time for dice," he said instead as if it didn't matter. "If he wants as much as you say, I need to fatten my purse."

"My mother won't be pleased if she learns I'm helping her pretty leave Ebou Dar, Mat," Beslan said. "She will marry me to someone with a squint and a mustache like a Taraboner foot soldier."

After all of this time, Mat still winced. He couldn't get used to Tylin's son thinking what his mother was doing with Mat was all right. Well, Beslan did think she'd gotten a little possessive--only a little, mind!--but that was the only reason he was willing to help.

"Let's get back to the Palace," Mat said with a little groan. But it wasn't his leg this time, or the fact that Tylin would be waiting for him there that had him in pain. Those bloody dice has started tumbling in his head again. Something bad was coming his way.

Something very bad.

[OOC: Cribbed from Winter's Heart. Warnings for epic levels of teal deerness, outfit descriptions, Mat's incredibly enlightened views on women, and the use of the word bloody all. the. time.]

bloody dice, bloody beslan, bloody everything, bloody women, bloody tylin, ebou dar

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