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 sul’dam 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.
So far as she knew, since his raising, Beslan hadn’t made any plans to have her assassinated. Remarkable. Any Seanchan would have immediately begun scheming. Some would have tried an assassination; others would have decided to make only plans, but remain supportive. But all would have considered killing her.
Many on this side of the ocean thought differently. She’d never have believed it, if not for her time with Matrim. That was obviously one reason why Fortuona had been required to go with him. She just wished she’d interpreted the omens earlier.
Beslan was joined by Captain-General Lunal Galgan and a few members of the low Blood. Galgan was a wide-shouldered fellow with a crest of white hair atop his head. The other members of the Blood deferred to him; they knew he had her favor. If things went well here and with the reclamation of Seanchan, there was a good chance she’d raise him to the Imperial family. The ranks of the family would need to be refilled, after all, once Fortuona returned and restored order. Undoubtedly, many had been assassinated or executed. Galgan was a valuable ally. He’d not only worked openly against Suroth, but had suggested the assault on the White Tower, which had gone well. Extremely well.
Melitene, Fortuona’s der’sul’dam, stepped forward and bowed again. The stout, graying woman led a damane with dark brown hair and bloodshot eyes. Apparently this one wept often.
Melitene had the presence to look embarrassed at the weeping, and bowed extra low. Fortuona chose not to notice that the damane was acting so displeasingly. This one was a fine catch, despite her petulance.
Fortuona made a series of gestures to Selucia, instructing her in what to say. The woman watched with keen eyes, half of her head covered in cloth while she waited for the hair to grow there, the other half shaved. Fortuona would eventually have to choose another Voice, as Selucia was now her Truthspeaker.
“Show us what this woman can do,” Selucia said, Voicing the words Fortuona had signed to her.
Melitene patted the damane on the head. “Suffa will show the Empress—may she live forever—the Power of slicing the air.”
“Please,” Suffa said, looking pleadingly toward Fortuona. “Please, listen to me. I am the Amyrlin Seat.”
Melitene hissed, and Suffa’s eyes opened wide, obviously feeling a blast of pain through the a’dam. The damane continued anyway. “I can offer great bounty, powerful Empress! If I am returned, I will give you ten women to take my place. Twenty! The most powerful the White Tower has. I—” She broke off, moaning, and collapsed to the ground.
Melitene was sweating. She looked to Selucia, speaking quickly, nervously. “Please explain to the Empress of us all—may she live forever—that my eyes are lowered for not having trained this one properly. Suffa is amazingly stubborn, despite how quick she is to weep and offer others in her place.”
Fortuona sat for a moment, letting Melitene sweat. Eventually, she signed for Selucia to speak.
“The Empress is not displeased with you,” Selucia Voiced. “These marath’damane who call themselves Aes Sedai have all proven stubborn.”
“Please express my gratitude to the Greatest One,” Melitene said, relaxing. “If it pleases She Whose Eyes Look Upward, I can make Suffa perform. But there may be further outbursts.”
“You may continue,” Selucia Voiced.
Melitene knelt beside Suffa, speaking sharply at first, then consolingly. She was very skilled at working with former marath’damane. Of course, Fortuona considered herself good with damane as well. She enjoyed breaking marath’damane as much as her brother Halvate had enjoyed training wild grolm. She’d always found it a pity that he had been assassinated. He was the only one of her brothers who she’d ever been fond of.
Suffa finally got back onto her knees. Fortuona leaned forward, curious. Suffa bowed her head, and a line of light—brilliant and pure—cut the air in front of her. That line turned sideways along a central axis, opening a hole directly in front of Fortuona’s throne. Trees rustled beyond, and Fortuona’s breath caught as she saw a hawk with a white head streak away from the portal. An omen of great power. The normally unflappable Selucia gasped, though whether it was at the portal or the omen, Fortuona did not know.
Fortuona covered her own surprise. So it was true. Traveling wasn’t a myth or a rumor. It was real. This changed everything about the war.
Beslan walked forward, bowing to her, looking hesitant. She waved for him and Galgan to come to where they could see the forest glade through the opening. Beslan stared, mouth hanging open.
Galgan clasped his hands behind his back. He was a curious one. He’d met with assassins in the city, and had inquired about the cost for having Fortuona killed. Then, he’d had each of the men who quoted him a price executed. A very subtle maneuver—it was meant to show that she should consider him a threat, as he was not afraid of meeting with assassins. However, it was also a visible sign of loyalty. I follow you for now, the move said, but I am watching, and I am ambitious.
In many ways, his careful maneuvering was more comforting to her than Beslan’s apparently unwavering loyalty. The first, she could anticipate. The second…well, she wasn’t certain what to make of it yet. Would Matrim be equally loyal? What would it be like, to have a Prince of the Ravens whom she did not have to plot against? It seemed almost a fantasy, the type of tale told to common children to make them dream of an impossible marriage.
“This is incredible!” Beslan said. “Greatest One, with this ability…” His station made him one of the only people able to spe
