she must retake what had been lost a thousand years ago. And to do that, she must deal with this man who, her mainland agents told her, claimed to be the Dragon Reborn. If I cannot find a way to deal with him, the displeasure of the Empress will be the least of my worries .
Turning smoothly, she entered the long room fronting the terrace, its outer wall all doors and tall windows to catch the breezes. The pale wood of the walls, smooth and glistening like satin, pleased Suroth, but she had removed the furnishings of the old owner, the former Atha’an Miere governor of Cantorin, and replaced them with a few tall screens, most painted
with birds or flowers. Two were different. One showed a great spotted cat of the Sen T’jore, as large as a pony, the other a black mountain eagle, crest erect like a pale crown and snowy-tipped wings spread to their full seven feet. Such screens were considered vulgar, but Suroth liked animals. Unable to bring her menagerie with her across the Aryth Ocean, she had had the screens made to depict her two favorites. She had never taken kindly to being balked in anything.
Three women awaited her as she had left them, two kneeling, one lying prostrate on the bare, polished floor, patterned in inlays of light and dark wood. The kneeling women wore the dark blue dresses of sul’dam , red panels embroidered with forked silver lightning on the breast and on the sides of their skirts. One of the two, Alwhin, a sharp-faced, blue-eyed woman with a perpetual glower, had the left side of her head shaved. The rest of her hair hung to her shoulder in a light brown braid.
Suroth’s mouth tightened momentarily at the sight of Alwhin. No sul’dam had ever before been raised to the so’jhin , the hereditary upper servants of the Blood, much less to a Voice of the Blood. Yet there had been reasons in Alwhin’s case. Alwhin knew too much.
Still, it was to the woman lying facedown, all in plain dark gray, that Suroth directed her attention. A wide collar of silvery metal encircled the woman’s neck, connected by a shining leash to a bracelet of the same material on the wrist of the second sul’dam , Taisa. By means of leash and collar, the a’dam , Taisa could control the gray-clad woman. And she had to be controlled. She was damane , a woman who could channel, and thus too dangerous to be allowed to run loose. Memories of the Armies of the Night were still strong in Seanchan a thousand years after their destruction.
Suroth’s eyes flickered uneasily to the two sul’dam . She no longer trusted any sul’dam , and yet she had no choice but to trust them. No one else could control the damane , and without the damane … . The very concept was unthinkable. The power of Seanchan, the very power of the Crystal Throne, was built on controlled damane . There were too many things about which Suroth had no choice to suit her. Such as Alwhin, who watched as if she had been so’jhin all of her life. No. As if she were of the Blood itself, and knelt because she chose to.
“Pura.” The damane had had another name when she was one of the hated Aes Sedai, before falling into Seanchan hands, but Suroth neither knew what it had been nor cared. The gray-clad woman tensed, but did not raise her head; her training had been particularly harsh. “I will ask again,
Pura. How does the White Tower control this man who calls himself the Dragon Reborn?”
The damane moved her head a fraction, enough to shoot a frightened look at Taisa. If her answer was displeasing, the sul’dam could make her feel pain without raising a finger, by means of the a’dam . “The Tower would not try to control a false Dragon, High Lady,” Pura said breathily. “They would capture him, and gentle him.”
Taisa looked an indignant question at the High Lady. The answer had avoided Suroth’s query, had perhaps even implied that one of the Blood had spoken untruth. Suroth gave a slight shake of her head, the merest sideways motion—she had
Turning smoothly, she entered the long room fronting the terrace, its outer wall all doors and tall windows to catch the breezes. The pale wood of the walls, smooth and glistening like satin, pleased Suroth, but she had removed the furnishings of the old owner, the former Atha’an Miere governor of Cantorin, and replaced them with a few tall screens, most painted
with birds or flowers. Two were different. One showed a great spotted cat of the Sen T’jore, as large as a pony, the other a black mountain eagle, crest erect like a pale crown and snowy-tipped wings spread to their full seven feet. Such screens were considered vulgar, but Suroth liked animals. Unable to bring her menagerie with her across the Aryth Ocean, she had had the screens made to depict her two favorites. She had never taken kindly to being balked in anything.
Three women awaited her as she had left them, two kneeling, one lying prostrate on the bare, polished floor, patterned in inlays of light and dark wood. The kneeling women wore the dark blue dresses of sul’dam , red panels embroidered with forked silver lightning on the breast and on the sides of their skirts. One of the two, Alwhin, a sharp-faced, blue-eyed woman with a perpetual glower, had the left side of her head shaved. The rest of her hair hung to her shoulder in a light brown braid.
Suroth’s mouth tightened momentarily at the sight of Alwhin. No sul’dam had ever before been raised to the so’jhin , the hereditary upper servants of the Blood, much less to a Voice of the Blood. Yet there had been reasons in Alwhin’s case. Alwhin knew too much.
Still, it was to the woman lying facedown, all in plain dark gray, that Suroth directed her attention. A wide collar of silvery metal encircled the woman’s neck, connected by a shining leash to a bracelet of the same material on the wrist of the second sul’dam , Taisa. By means of leash and collar, the a’dam , Taisa could control the gray-clad woman. And she had to be controlled. She was damane , a woman who could channel, and thus too dangerous to be allowed to run loose. Memories of the Armies of the Night were still strong in Seanchan a thousand years after their destruction.
Suroth’s eyes flickered uneasily to the two sul’dam . She no longer trusted any sul’dam , and yet she had no choice but to trust them. No one else could control the damane , and without the damane … . The very concept was unthinkable. The power of Seanchan, the very power of the Crystal Throne, was built on controlled damane . There were too many things about which Suroth had no choice to suit her. Such as Alwhin, who watched as if she had been so’jhin all of her life. No. As if she were of the Blood itself, and knelt because she chose to.
“Pura.” The damane had had another name when she was one of the hated Aes Sedai, before falling into Seanchan hands, but Suroth neither knew what it had been nor cared. The gray-clad woman tensed, but did not raise her head; her training had been particularly harsh. “I will ask again,
Pura. How does the White Tower control this man who calls himself the Dragon Reborn?”
The damane moved her head a fraction, enough to shoot a frightened look at Taisa. If her answer was displeasing, the sul’dam could make her feel pain without raising a finger, by means of the a’dam . “The Tower would not try to control a false Dragon, High Lady,” Pura said breathily. “They would capture him, and gentle him.”
Taisa looked an indignant question at the High Lady. The answer had avoided Suroth’s query, had perhaps even implied that one of the Blood had spoken untruth. Suroth gave a slight shake of her head, the merest sideways motion—she had
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