I'm aware that, for some arbitrary reason, RJ has declared Myrddraal sterile. May the man rest in peace, but I refuse to comply with such a pointless and limiting rule. Other Shadowspawn-related discrepancies are inadvertant (I have not read the Big White Book) but will not be changed.

I have, however, been reminded that Malkier was conquered about fifty years before TEoTW, so Shaila could not have gone there a century before it. Because the Thousand Lakes will be important later, this story now begins forty years before TEoTW; Chapter 1 has been changed accordingly.

United

Mierelan's dress clung damply to her, and every breath drew steamy, pungent air. Wiping sweat from her brow, she glanced at Seira riding beside her. "Did you know it would be this hot in the Blight?"

"Oh, it will get hotter," Seira breathed. "Much hotter." Her face was flushed and her green-gold eyes seemed to glow in the dimness. "You're Aes Sedai, silly. Can't you ignore heat?"

Mierelan tried to concentrate, to keep the heat from touching her. But it was hard to stay focused amid the squelching footsteps of their horses, the insufferable humidity, and the malevolent, shadowy forms of twisted trees all around. Every rustle and crack made her jump, fearful—and just a little hopeful—that something would jump out at them.

They had ridden to Lord Lossel's keep in northernmost Arafel, where he had received them kindly—and sent them off into the Blight the next morning, with only a young scout named Moriel for guidance. All day, they had trotted through the rising heat; following what Moriel claimed was Sila's trail. Now the light was fading, and she feared what darkness could bring.

"We should stay here for the night." The cheery voice broke her concentration as her horse suddenly stopped, and she turned to see Moriel holding the grey gelding's bridle.

"Why? It's still light." Seira reined in her sleek black mare beside them.

"See how the land rises slightly around us?" Dark braids swung as he turned about, indicating their surroundings. "We're in a small hollow, and approaching creatures might not notice us if they look straight ahead. Also, the trees are too dense for Dragkhar or other fliers to see us."

"Oh. I'll start gathering firewood."

"No, you won't," said Mierelan and Moriel together.

"Trollocs would smell the smoke from miles away," Moriel explained. "And flames would guide them right to us—then serve to cook us. Besides, some of these trees are poisonous; we'd die from breathing their smoke."

"I could weave a ward," offered Mierelan.

He shook his head with a gentle grin, teeth gleaming white in the gloom. "Shadowspawn can sense the Power. A ward would be a brilliant beacon to them. Listen, I'll tie up your horses and you can start setting up tents."

"All right. But first, I'd like to, um, examine these trees." She dismounted and hurried off, followed by a low call of "Don't touch the red-barked ones!"

Bloody self-important man, she thought, cheeks hotter than ever. He probably thinks we're a pair of sheltered ninnies with no sense of the danger we're in. Well, Seira certainly is! I've lived in the wilderness, before, though—but how was I supposed to know Shadowspawn can sense wards? Other animals can't! Blood and ashes, I don't understand this place at all!

Taking shears and a sample box, she carefully snipped off a bundle of leaves from a gnarled, black-barked tree. It had been fascinating to watch the trees' disease progress along their path, from speckling to mottling to deep decay. Perhaps by studying it, she could find a way to fight it. Of course, it wouldn't do to tell Seira that.

She reached for a higher branch—and froze. A face stared into hers from the foliage. A small, pale human face.

Whirling around, she hissed, "Seira! Moriel! Come quick!"

Both hurried over. "What?"

"Look at—" She pointed into the tree…at leaves. The face was gone.

"I don't see anything," said Moriel.

"Forget it. My mind is playing tricks, I guess."

"Yes, that can happen here. But please try to control it. My lord will punish me if I let an Aes Sedai go mad."

Suddenly, there was a great rustle overhead, as if something very large had flown over the treetops and grazed them in passing. A burst of wind sent all three staggering and knocked a tent-peg hammer out of Seira's hand.

"Sweet Aginor, what was that?!" she cried, curls blown wildly about.

Mierelan leaned on a tree, willing her heart to slow. "Probably something 'sweet Aginor' created. Are you scared yet, Seira? Do you see the danger you've put us in?"

"Calm down, Miere. Why would I be scared? You really are tense, if you've started reading surprise as fear." Picking up the hammer, she ambled back to their tents.

"Don't worry about her going mad," Mierelan murmured to Moriel. "She already is."

A short time later they sat in a circle, silently eating bread and cheese. Seira wore a dreamy expression, but Moriel's eyes were alert and Mierelan was almost too nervous to swallow. The Blight grew darker every minute and she felt utterly unprotected.

Something bright flickered in the corner of her eye. A moment later, a most unexpected creature emerged from the woods.

It appeared to be a human girl, about twelve years old. Her Kandori-style clothes—loose yellow trousers and a short, dark-green coat—were worn and stained, her feet bare, but she looked quite healthy. Glossy black braids lay coiled on either side of a sweet, pale face. The face in the trees!

"Bhai'kaal," she said.

"Huh?" said Seira

The girl let loose an unintelligible babble of bizarre sounds that her mouth should not have been able to form. They all stared for a moment, then Moriel's eyes narrowed. "That's the Trolloc tongue!"

A thrill of fear spiked up Mierelan's spine. A human, speaking Trolloc! A Darkfriend spy of some kind? Or could it be…no. We heard of Sila before this child was even…even born. Oh no. No, it can't be.

She had looked into the girl's eyes, and no amount of denial could banish the sight. Black flames flickered and glowed within them—and they were tilted. It was not a trick of the light. Something ancient and demonic lived within that pretty face, and looked through distinctly Saldaean eyes. No.

"Who are you, child, and what are you doing here?" Seira's tone was calm and friendly, seemingly unconcerned, but her eyes nearly lit the glade.

The girl paused, frowning, and then brightened. "Oh, of course you speak human. I live here."

"And what's your name?"

"Shaila, daughter of Zear'ell and Sila."

"D-do you mean to say that your, your mother is Sila Darklover?"

"Not Darklover, just Sila." She knelt, looking into their saddlebags. "This food smells interesting; can I have some? I'm as hungry as a Trolloc with twins." She shuddered. "Well, not that hungry."

Mierelan had an urge to laugh. The fire-eyed daughter of a legend comes to our campsite and asks for food. And they say Brown sisters lead boring lives.

Since Seira looked too dazed to speak, she tried. "Ah, Shaila, could you bring your mother to uh, meet us?"

Shaila bit her lip. "Umm, I shouldn't really."

"Why not?"

"She doesn't want me talking to humans; she says they'll hurt me. But almost nothing does and you looked friendly, so…but I don't want her to know."

"Please," Seira breathed. "Tell her we won't hurt her, or capture her. We just want to meet her. Please."

"Oh, all right. I never got to be with humans before, so I'll bring her here. But she'll have our whole Trolloc colony with her because we're migrating, so if you two try anything you'll be sorry!" She ran from the clearing.

Mierelan turned to Seira. "What have we done? A horde of Trollocs will be heading our way!"

"For Aginor's sake, Miere, that's why we came here. Did you think we'd be lucky enough to catch her wandering alone again? Oh, I can't believe she's actually coming to meet us!" Seira got up and paced around the clearing, nearly skipping with excitement. "If you don't want to be there, go home with—hey, where's Moriel? He's gone! Moriel!"

"I'm here." Moriel emerged from the forest. "I slipped out of sight; couldn't have her thinking I'd gone to alert an assassin that Sila's coming. Luckily she didn't seem to remember I was there. I'll tell my lord you've succeeded."

"What are you talking about?" asked Seira.

"I'm going home, of course. You've found your Sila, so my mission is done, and I wouldn't be much help against a horde of Trollocs. You're Aes Sedai, you'll be fine. May good fortune follow you." He turned and ran.

"Come back, you—" Mierelan began to shout.

Seira tugged her arm. "Don't! He's gone, you'll just attract attention!"

"That treacherous little weasel! Now we'll never escape!" Mierelan shook with fear. "Trollocs are coming, and we're stranded!"

"For the last time, calm down. We'll be fine." Seira paced the clearing, practically skipping with excitement.

Fighting to restrain her panic, Mierelan huddled against a tree, clutching at a pendant around her neck. The coiled pink shell had come from Tremalking, or so claimed the Sea Folk merchant who had sold it to her in Tear. Oh, to be on that distant island far from anywhere with a memory of Shadowspawn! Or safe in the White Tower gardens, sitting with Talan as they read aloud to each other in turns. Sweet, strong, learned Talan; the young Ogier would never dream of harming anyone. Why did I leave?

What calm she had mustered was shattered as something small hurtled from the forest. Hastily seizing the One Power, she hurled a weave of Air at the thing, pinning it to the ground.

Writhing and snarling in the muck was a sturdy little girl—a girl with a blunt muzzle, clawed paws instead of feet, and short fur covering her otherwise-naked body. Both women stared.

"Is that a Trolloc child?" whispered Mierelan.

"Of course it is!" murmured Seira. "I never thought to see one…"

Mierelan was captivated. Those wild, long-lashed brown eyes between pointed ears and sharp little teeth, that smooth melding of paw with human leg—truly a fascinating creation. The thrill of examining a new specimen had finally caught up to her. No wonder Seira wanted to study the Blight!

Human voices sounded just beyond the clearing, whispers at first, then angry shouts in the guttural Trolloc tongue; Shaila's voice intermingling with an older female one. A moment later, a woman strode out from the trees.

She was tall and fairly young, with unmistakably Saldaean features. She wore a black skirt, a breastplate of black armor in overlapping plates, and a long black cloak fastened with a pin shaped like a bright red trident. She would have matched Lord Lossel's description exactly but for one thing: her face was twisted with frightened fury.

"Who are you," she hissed, "and what do you want with me? I don't care if my father's dead or if all of Saldaea is up in flames! This is my home and I'm never going back! I don't care how you found me, go away!"

"We mean you no harm," said Mierelan hastily. "I am Mierelan Lutrassi and this is Seira Kestryn. We are Aes Sedai of the Brown—"

Sila's eyes widened further; her face suddenly shone with sweat. "Aes Sedai," she whispered. "Shadowkillers." Her voice rose hoarsely. "Go on, kill me, and bring the wrath of a Trolloc fist upon you! See if your might prevails against two hundred! I'll die knowing the world was rid of two of you!"

Mierelan was confounded. She had faced fear of Aes Sedai throughout her journeys, in peasant villages, but never such terror and loathing. The poor child thought they had come to kill her, and in truth many sisters—Narika came to mind—would have wanted to. She's going to set her Trollocs on us if we don't convince her immediately not to! But how do I do that?

Seira stepped forward. All of her girlish excitement had vanished; she radiated serenity and confidence as if she'd worn a shawl for centuries. "Please listen," she said. "My companion and I have not come to kill you, or take you back to Saldaea. We have come to learn from you. Long ago, I made it my goal to learn all I could of the Blight and its creatures. I have worked at gathering all of the knowledge that may be found in the human lands, but you know more than anyone else in this world. We will not harm you, or any creature here, except in absolute self-defense. This I swear, by the Ojni Daeg and the First Birth, by the Hand of Aginor."

By the what?

Slowly, fear melted from Sila's face. She looked at Seira long and hard, black eyes meeting amber-green, and then pointed to the Trolloc child in the mud. "Release her."

Mierelan released the weave. The little creature sprang up, growling, but ran from the clearing at a guttural command. Sila nodded to herself.

"You're lucky my Myrddraal lover just left on a raid. For the next fortnight, you may travel with us. I'm intrigued that you know so much about our lore. But any move to harm, and you will die."

Seira reached out hesitantly to clasp Sila's arm. "I promise you won't regret this. I've waited ten years." She turned. "Come on, Miere! We're going to travel with Sila Darklover!"

And Trollocs! I can't believe this is actually happening! But…how can I resist now?

"Your friend seems reluctant," observed Sila.

"I'm not, really!" said Mierelan hastily, not wanting to arouse any suspicion of false interest. "I just can hardly believe that you've lived with a Myrddraal for so long. They're said to drive women insane."

Sila grinned, her face becoming lovely. "Oh, I'm quite insane."

Seira abandoned serenity and clapped her hands like a child in sheer joy.

What have I gotten myself into?