A Memory of Light

probably all right. He nodded toward the crossbow, which was still leveled toward him. “Are you going to . . ”
    She paused, then sighed and lowered it.
    “Many thanks,” Mat said. “You could put a mans eye out with that thing, and normally I wouldn’t mind, but I’m running short on eyes these days.”
    “What did you do?” Selucia asked dryly. “Go dicing with a bear?”
    “Selucia!” Mat said, walking past her to enter the rooms. “That was quite near to a joke. I should think that, with a little effort, we might be able to grow you a sense of humor. That would be so unexpected, we could put you in a menagerie and charge money to see you. ‘Come see the marvelous laughing so’jhin. Two coppers only, tonight . . .’ ”
    “You bet the eye on something, didn’t you?”
    Mat stumbled, pushing open the door. He chuckled. Light! That was strangely close to the truth. “Very cute.”
    It’s a bet I won, he thought, no matter how it may seem. Matrim Cauthon was the only man to have diced with the fate of the world itself in the prize pouch. Of course, next time, they could find some fool hero to take his place. Like Rand or Perrin. Those two were so full of heroism, it was practically dripping out their mouths and down their chins. He suppressed the images that tried to form. Light! He had to stop thinking of those two.
    “Where is she?” Mat asked, looking about the bedchamber. The sheets of the bed were disturbed—he earnestly did not imagine pink ribbons tied to that headboard—but Tuon was nowhere to be seen.
    “Out,” Selucia said.
    “Out? It’s the middle of the night!”
    “Yes. A time when only assassins would visit. You are lucky that my aim was off, Matrim Cauthon.”
    “Never you bloody mind that,” Mat said. “You’re her bodyguard.”
    “I don’t know what you mean,” Selucia said, making the little crossbow vanish into her robes. “I am so’jhin to the Empress, may she live forever. I am her Voice and her Truthspeaker.”
    “Lovely,” Mat said, glancing at the bed. “You’re decoying for her, aren’t you? Lying in her bed? With a crossbow ready, should assassins try to sneak in?”
    Selucia said nothing.
    “Well, where is she?” Mat demanded. “Bloody ashes, woman! This is serious. General Galgan himself has hired men to kill her!”
    “That?” Selucia asked. “You’re worried about that!"
    “Bloody right, I am.”
    “Galgan is nothing to worry about,” Selucia said. “He’s too good a soldier to jeopardize our current stabilization efforts. Krisa is the one you should be worried about. She has brought in three assassins from Seanchan.” Selucia glanced at the balcony doorway. Mat noticed for the first time a stain on the floor that might have been blood. “I have caught two so far. Pity. I assumed you were the third.” She eyed him, as if considering that he might— against all logic—somehow be that assassin.
    “You’re bloody insane,” Mat said, tugging on his hat and fetching his ashandarei. “I’m going to Tuon.”
    “That is no longer her name, may she live forever. She is known as Fortuona; you should not address her by either name, but instead as ‘Highest One’ or ‘Greatest One.’ ”
    “I’ll call her what I bloody well please,” Mat said. “Where is she?” Selucia studied him.
    “I’m not an assassin,” he said.
    “I don’t believe that you are. I am trying to decide if she would like me to tell you her location.”
    “I’m her husband, am I not?”
    “Hush,” Selucia said. “You just tried to convince me you weren’t an assassin, now you bring up that? Fool man. She is in the palace gardens.”
    “It’s the—”
    “—middle of the night,” Selucia said. “Yes, I know. She does not always . . . listen to logic.” He caught a hint of exasperation in her tone. “She has an entire squad of the Deathwatch Guard with her.”
    “I don’t care if she has the Creator himself with her,” Mat snapped, walking back toward the balcony. “I’m going to go sit her down and explain some things to her.”
    Selucia followed and leaned against the doorway, raising a skeptical gaze to him.
    “Well, maybe I won’t sit her down, really,” Mat said, looking through the open screen at the gardens below. “But I will explain to her—logically—why she can’t just go wandering in the night like this. At least, I’ll mention it to her. Blood and bloody ashes. We really are high up, aren’t we?”
    “Normal