Author's note

Just a heads-up: this chapter gets dark (and it's super long).

TW: mention of suicide.

Black Tower: zero

Demandred: I stopped counting

But wait, it gets worse

Natael was looking out the window at Logain's departing silhouette. The guards at the gate didn't try to stop him. There were only twenty people in his party; after a long discussion and hours of planning with Desandre and Lemai, they'd decided that it would be safer for most of the Asha'man and Aes Sedai to remain here at the Black Tower, considering what they intended to do. Logain had not wanted to leave at all, but someone had to talk to al'Thor.

"He's gone," he told Taim, who lingered in bed.

"Good. Everything is going according to plan."

So far, yes. But this was only the beginning. Convincing the Black Tower that Logain and Taim were at odds was the easy part.

"Tomorrow I'll announce that Logain went on a recruiting trip, and everyone will know that I'm lying to cover up the fact that he left because we fought."

Some pushing around, a few harmless punches… That was how Taim had described it when he'd first mentioned it. He'd ended up trying to choke Logain with his bare hands, and in return Logain had broken Taim's nose. And the things they'd yelled at each other… There was some pent-up rivalry between them, alright.

But Logain had not left angry. He was satisfied that everyone believed the fight had been an actual one, and not in the least staged – which, in the end, was the case. Still, when they'd met in Taim's study a few hours later, both men had laughed and complimented the other's injuries, though they were Healed by then. "Ugh, men," Natael had muttered, since there was no woman in the vicinity to utter the timeless remark and to roll her eyes with long-suffering fondness.

"Come back to bed," Taim murmured. "This may very well be our last night together and I don't want to waste a single minute."

"Demandred didn't tell us exactly when he would return," Natael noted, though he obediently joined Taim under the covers. "A few days, Atal said."

"I forbid you to mention either name when we're in bed," Taim said. "It's not conducive to a good night's rest. Or to…other things."

They spent some time doing those other things, but Taim was exhausted and fell asleep soon afterward. Natael watched him sleep for a while. Could it really be their last night together? He didn't want to think that. They'd had so little time…

Just as he was following Taim into slumber, there was a loud knock on the door. Natael was up in a second and, after hastily tying his robe, he opened the door while Taim rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

It was Atal. He leered unpleasantly. "The Master wants you to be ready for the demonstration in half an hour. Don't be late."

He disappeared in a gateway before Natael could respond.

"It's the middle of the bloody night!" Taim complained. "Why does Demandred always show up so early or so late?"

"I suspect it's because he has settled in a land where the sun sets at a different time than it does here," Natael said absent-mindedly.

"Seanchan?" Taim mused.

"Perhaps – far to the East, or far to the West. Either way, we're lucky that Logain didn't delay his departure even by an hour. Come on, we better get dressed. We want to look our best for…" Our own funeral? Demandred's? "…whatever's to come."

They assembled in Natael's ballroom. Yes, there was a ballroom in his palace – a good thing, too, because it was the only indoors room that could hold so many people: forty Aes Sedai and their bondmates, plus Toveine, Taim and Natael. They all awaited Demandred's arrival with various signs of agitation. They all knew the plan, except Atal, the only agent of the Shadow they knew of. His bondmate, Gylli, a short sister of the Yellow Ajah with luminous green eyes, was supposed to keep out of the circles, so as not to alert Atal.

There were going to be three circles. Taim, Toveine and Natael would link, with Taim in control. Desandre would form a circle of thirteen women and some of their bondmates and she would lead it. Adrielle Sedai of the Gray Ajah, Mezar's bondmate, would lead the last circle, which would include the rest of the women, all weaker channelers, with a few men thrown in. The rest of the Asha'man would provide personal wards for the leaders of the circles, in priority, and deal with the Myrddraal while the circles primarily targeted Demandred.

Natael didn't think it could go wrong. Demandred always came alone, and the thirteen Myrddraal didn't stand a chance. Besides, the Chosen couldn't possibly expect this. The Aes Sedai had been warned just now, at the last minute, as planned, so that even if there were Black Ajah sisters among them, they could not relay the information in time. They had operated the same way with the Asha'man, just in case. Only Desandre and Lemai could have betrayed them, but Natael had a good feeling about them.

He hoped he was right. Their lives literally depended on it.

They wouldn't give Demandred a chance to find his bearings, either. The moment he came out of the gateway, they would balefire him.

Natael didn't like to toy with the deadly weave, but Taim had eventually convinced him. If they didn't use it, Demandred would return, and he'd be angrier than ever, especially if he ended with a body that was not to his liking. Natael briefly imagined Barid's horror if he was somehow returned to this world inside Lews Therin's old body… Of course, that body had become part of a mountain, but the Great Lord must have an assortment of look-alikes precisely in case Demandred died a non-permanent death. The Great Lord could be a real jerk and he had a perverted sense of humour.

Yes, Natael was fairly confident in their chances. They had thought of everything, had they not?

It was too late, anyway. A gateway had appeared.

Myrddraal came pouring out of it. The channelers waited – they had to hit Demandred first.

And here he was, looking quite majestic in a white shirt, black trousers and a deep blue velvet coat. Great clothes to die in, Natael thought just as everyone seized the Source and linked. They hadn't had a chance to practice, but they came together smoothly. Taim used balefire before Demandred could do or say anything.

The blinding beam of destructive light went through Demandred. The wall behind him vanished, revealing part of the main hall. The Chosen rolled his eyes then glanced down at the spot where the weave should have hit and disintegrated him.

Everyone was staring at him in shock, but Taim recovered quickly, just like Desandre. They liberally attacked with weaves of all elements. Demandred remained unscathed.

It wasn't a ward, Natael thought. A ward would have repelled their weaves. It was almost as if…

As if Demandred wasn't there at all.

"It's a projection," he murmured. One of the most complex weaves in existence, and difficult to maintain. Indeed, Demandred flickered for an instant.

"You actually did it," the projection said when the channelers ceased fire. "You tried to kill me. Your stupidity never ceases to amaze me." The voice broke in places and Demandred flickered again.

He's always three steps ahead.

They were going to die, Natael realised. This night had been their last, just as Taim had predicted. He fumbled blindly for Taim's hand and squeezed tightly when he found it. Taim nearly crushed his fingers in return.

Please, kill me first. That was a horribly selfish wish, but he couldn't bear to see Taim die before him, even if he outlived him only for a second.

"Unlink now, and I will consider giving you a second chance," the projection said. "Or is it your third already? I've lost count."

That had to be a lie. He couldn't let them live after such a rebellious move.

Desandre shouted wordlessly and threw her hands toward the Myrddraal. Three of them exploded, but the rest remained immobile.

Demandred shrugged. "Eh, I have spares. Atal?"

Natael turned to look for the rat, but it was too late. He was behind Desandre, knife in hand. He cut her throat wide open. The Aes Sedai who was closest to her screamed as blood spattered the right side of her face, and a few others stepped aside, their eyes wild. It was rational to assume that the link they were forming was gone.

Demandred nodded approvingly. "Adrielle?"

"As you command, Great Master," the beautiful Gray whispered. She gestured at her sisters from the other circle and they stared at her in horror. Natael couldn't tell what she'd done, but presumed that they'd been shielded. The rest of Adrielle's circle moved as far from her as they could when they realised that there was a member of the Black Ajah in their midst, but they couldn't leave the circle while Adrielle had the lead.

"Release saidin, Taim," the projection commanded. "Release it and your men will live. You will live. Adrielle's circle is more powerful than yours. She'll kill everyone in this room, if I command it."

Taim turned to Natael. He looked older than he did an hour ago, his eyes bright with rage, but he knew they were defeated. They had made an impossible mess of things. Demandred had once again foiled their plans, and he wasn't even here.

Should they die in a blaze of glory, in an attempt to kill at least Adrielle or Atal? Or should they surrender, in the hope that their men and the Aes Sedai of more colourful Ajahs would be spared?

Taim surrendered the lead of the link to him and let go of saidin. Atal shielded him right away. It was Natael's decision now. He looked at the men, at the Aes Sedai. He noticed that no one was taking any initiative; they awaited his orders. They did respect him.

The fools.

"Alright, you win," he told the projection. He released the Source and signalled for the non-linked men to do the same.

Atal shielded him, too and, as soon as the Asha'man let go of saidin, more people came out of the gateway. Men, bearing tattoos and not a lot of clothes, snarling and jeering wordlessly. There were about twenty of them…all channelers. They shielded the Asha'man. The ballroom was now quite crowded.

Natael briefly tried to figure out who these newcomers were and where they hailed from, but he honestly had no idea. Seanchan slaves, mayhap? They looked like primitives, even more uncouth than the Aiel. But the Seanchan killed men who could channel, didn't they? They only enslaved female channelers.

Anyway. It didn't matter at this point. Natael had to salvage something from this wreckage. "Do what you will with me, Barid. It was my idea. Don't punish the others for it."

The projection winked out of existence, and a few seconds later the real Demandred stepped out of the gateway. "Predictable as you are, I assume that your initial plan was to make them all swear the oath, to avoid having to Turn them."

Natael nodded. There was no point denying it.

"You promised everyone that you'd reverse the oath as soon as you could obtain a Binding Rod, so that the sheep would get along with your ludicrous plan."

Natael said nothing. Demandred was monologuing; their fate would be sealed when he was done pointing out their many failings and crushing their hopes and dreams.

"And I take it that Logain has left to seek exterior assistance, since you're so clearly unfit to deal with me on your own, even when you outnumber me eighty to one."

Blood and ashes! They had not even had a chance to lie to him about Logain. "We had no way of knowing that Adrielle was Black Ajah!" Desandre had vouched for all of her sisters – she'd actually recommended Adrielle as the lead of the last circle, because she had more experience with linking.

"Is Logain looking for Lews Therin?" Demandred went on, ignoring the last remark. Nobody replied, but he took their silence as confirmation. "Well, I wish him luck with that." Demandred was not the sarcastic type, so it was difficult to tell if he was serious or not. Perhaps he simply didn't care. He didn't consider any of them a threat.

"Now. We've wasted enough time on social niceties, I think. Taim, pick out ten of your men. They will swear the oath tonight. Adrielle, select twelve of your sisters for the same purpose. You will Turn the rest later." He narrowed his eyes as he surveyed Natael. "I strongly suggest that you do not send them away. There will be guards outside from now on. Any woman leaving the Tower will be balefired on sight." Adrielle was already marching twelve Aes Sedai in front of the Chosen. Taim had not even started. Natael released his hand and gestured for him to do the same.

Just when he registered the fact that the gentlemanly thing to do to spare his lover would be to select the men himself, he realised that they didn't need to do it. Nearly half of their Asha'man took a step forward, volunteering for the ordeal.

Oh, the fools. The loyal fools.

"Furthermore," Demandred went on, paying no attention to the selection process, "you will no longer Travel out of the Black Tower. You won't be able to open gateways."

Natael scowled darkly. How was that even possible? But Demandred didn't expand on the matter. He glanced at the men aligned in front of him. "Too many. Atal, pick ten of them." It was done at random, as far as Natael could tell. "Good. Now form a line and listen carefully. You will all swear the same oath, and I do not intend to repeat it for each and every one of you."

It was done in record time. The first Aes Sedai in line, a pretty White named Meline, tried to make a run for it. It was her bondmate who caught her. He whispered soothing words until she stopped sobbing. Demandred looked on impatiently. "The next one who does that will be locked up with my men for the rest of the night, and their bondmate with the Myrddraal." That threat hurried the process along.

Natael was looking forward to burying himself under the covers, holding Taim close and praying that this had merely been a terrible nightmare.

But the nightmare was far from over.

"Now," Demandred intoned. "The demonstration."

Natael shook his head. "There's no need for a demonstration," he said. "I'm sure that everyone will happily take the oath. Great Master," he added for good measure. "Really, there's no need to Turn anyone at all. It would be a waste of-"

Demandred's lips quirked into a smirk. It was disturbingly reminiscent of Taim's smile, except that Taim's was devoid of cruelty. "Well, you do need to be punished in some fashion," he said. "Moreover, I expect you to begin the Turning of all your recruits as soon as tomorrow."

Tomorrow. They had to come up with an excuse not to Turn everyone by tomorrow.

It was impossible.

And Demandred was sure to check up on their progress – Atal reported to him daily, if not hourly.

Perhaps everyone could study the poor sod who was about to be Turned and pretend to have had their souls wiped out? Natael could give lessons in theatrics-

"Taim," Demandred said. "You will serve as an example. Natael is a capable administrator, I'm sure he can manage the Black Tower on his own."

The ground seemed to crumble under Natael's feet. "No, no, no, you can't do that." He thought he was shouting, but the words came out in a low murmur, barely audible. At his side, Taim had gone pale, but he held himself upright. Defiant to the end.

But it couldn't end like this! Natael stomped forward. "This is a waste of resources, Barid. He's nearly as powerful as al'Thor. With Tarmon Gai'don upon us, you can't just-"

"We're going to Turn him, Natael, not kill him. He will serve us in the Last Battle just as well. And it will suppress his murderous attitude toward me, which I consider a bonus."

"He won't be of any use to you," Natael growled. "Because he'll be dead. I won't let him live like that. And I won't live without him. I'll burn this whole place to the ground and turn myself into a bloody mountain, if you take him from me. You'll lose us both. You'll lose the Black Tower. Might as well kill us now…or Turn someone else." That was, once again, horribly selfish, not to mention a dangerous gamble. But Demandred was a gambler. Could he afford to squander two of the most powerful male channelers alive and their hundreds of recruits? How would the Dark One react to this?

"I could take over for them, Great Master," Atal offered. He sounded petulant…or jealous. Perhaps because Natael had never threatened to turn into a mountain for him. "We don't need them. If we dispose of them now, I promise you that, by next week, every single man and woman of the Black Tower will worship the Great Lord of the Dark, as I do. All of them, including the servants and the children."

The taint must have melted his brains. Who would Turn an innocent child, for pity's sake?

Demandred didn't seem to hear anything the weasel was saying. His gaze was still on Natael, though he glanced at Taim once or twice. His face was as expressionless as usual, but there was a strange, indescribable look in his eyes.

"Besides," Natael pointed out as an afterthought, "you only have ten Myrddraal now."

"I told you I have spares. There are sixteen more waiting on the other side of the gateway," Demandred replied absent-mindedly. "I knew you'd try to take out some of them when you realised you couldn't kill me."

Usually, when he said things like that, he sounded smug, but he appeared preoccupied by Natael's speech. "I could shield you and tie it," he said in a low voice, in the Old Tongue. His eyes were still on Natael, but unfocused. "No, that wouldn't work. You may need to defend yourself." Was he talking to himself now? "We still need you for the Last Battle. You will serve, in the end, one way or another, whether you like it or not." There was a pause as, Natael supposed, the voices in Demandred's head debated his options. Was he mad? Natael had been led to believe that the taint couldn't affect the Chosen, but what if that, too, was a lie? "I can't leave Blondie in charge, he's not competent enough and everyone hates him."

Blondie? That had to be Atal. Natael would have laughed at the nickname, in other circumstances.

"And Taim is extremely competent, no doubt about that. Turn Asmodean instead of him? No, that's forbidden." Demandred sighed. "Curse Elan and his whimsies."

Natael wondered if the Chosen remembered that he could understand the Old Tongue and, for that matter, so could Taim, at least in part. Natael had been teaching him.

"You do realise that this will have to end someday, yes?" Demandred said in the Common Tongue. "Your ridiculous attempts to get the best of me, your will to defy the Shadow. You cannot win. You will be subdued eventually. I will Turn you both myself, when the time comes, if there's no other option. If you refuse to accept the boon that has been offered you. A second chance for you, Asmodean, and an opportunity to surpass almost everyone else, Taim. Immortality, untainted saidin. Why are you being so stubborn about this? What does the Light have to give you, but a chance to sacrifice yourself in vain?"

Once again, under different circumstances, Natael would have agreed. But the Light did have something to offer that the Shadow could never match: Taim.

"I volunteer," someone said suddenly.

Everyone turned to look at Toveine, including Demandred. "Volunteer for what?"

"Turn me, Forsaken. I volunteer for it."

There was a collective gasp among the crowd. Taim was shaking his head. "Don't be silly, Toveine. Why would you do that? Do you have any idea-"

Demandred raised a hand. "Let the woman speak."

Let the woman sacrifice herself, burn you! Natael wanted to shout to Taim. She's trying to save you! For literally no reason that Natael could fathom but, to be honest, he didn't care. He didn't like Toveine. Nobody did. It was a win-win solution – Toveine was asking for it, and they'd be rid of her repulsive personality, once she became a mindless monster.

Toveine took a step forward. "I have failed my sisters. I led them into a vicious trap. It's my fault that they will all end up serving the Shadow." Her voice trembled slightly, but her back was straight, her expression cold and haughty. "I accept this as punishment for my failure. Let me be the first, so that the others will...come to the right decision."

Natael was all for it, but he had to admit that Toveine was exaggerating. She deserved a good strapping, perhaps, but Turning? No one deserved this. Surely her sisters were going to talk her out of it.

"You are still bonded to Natael, yes?" Demandred asked. Toveine nodded, her face twisting into a grimace at the reminder. "Mm. Yes, that is… That will be an adequate alternative, I think. After all, that was the plan, initially."

Natael glanced at the rest of the Aes Sedai. None of them said a word, not even to each other. They were all staring at the ground.

Taim, Logain and Natael had considered sacrificing Toveine, sure, but…well, that was before they decided to attempt-murder Demandred. The idea had been quickly discarded – Desandre had been shocked to hear it, in fact. But Desandre was dead.

Were they really going to let it happen? Taim looked as conflicted as Natael felt. They both had good reason to despise Toveine, but-

Demandred had moved closer to the gateway and was saying something in a foreign language that even Natael didn't recognise. It reminded him vaguely of the Old Tongue, but the words were warped and sounded wrong. A few seconds later, three Myrddraal emerged from the gateway.

There were thirteen now.

"Atal, fetch a chair." The lad ran to obey. "The men who have sworn the oath will stand on this side," Demandred went on, indicating the place where they should stand. "Adrielle, you will not participate, but you will demonstrate for your peers, so that the women can copy your weaving later."

The Asha'man advanced reluctantly. They kept glancing at Taim and Natael for clues, for any indication that they should do something, anything, to prevent this. Taim shook his head sadly. There was no avoiding this. Only a miracle would save Toveine now, and Natael didn't believe in miracles.

Atal returned quickly and the Myrddraal gathered on the side opposing the Asha'man. Some of the recruits were shivering.

Demandred cleared his throat. "Natael, Taim – we need thirteen channelers in total."

Oh. Right. Natael was usually better at mathematics but, after Taim had narrowly avoided being Turned, he'd stopped worrying and had not considered the fact that he'd have to participate. He tasted bile at the back of his throat. He'd never done this before. He'd never expected to have to – this was a task reserved for Darkfriends, not Chosen. This time, it was Taim who sought out his hand.

"Hurry up, we've wasted quite enough time already," Demandred urged them.

They stood at the end of the line. Natael was next to a sniffling Einar, whose eyes were red-rimmed. He had not gone on a revengeful killing spree following Desandre's brutal murder, but he'd felt it, alright. Natael wondered what would happen to himself, when Toveine was Turned.

Demandred gestured to his tattooed men, who removed the shields of the newly sworn in Asha'man, then Atal began the Turning process. The Asha'man, Taim and Natael imitated him.

The good news was that it didn't last long – with so many male channelers against her, Toveine didn't stand a chance.

The bad news was that it was the second-most horrifying thing Natael had ever witnessed, and he had been around during the War of Power. The first place would always be attributed to Trollocs devouring live humans, but this was a close contender.

The Asha'man were either white or grey in the face. One of them was crying. Taim looked like he was about to be sick.

As for Toveine…why, she'd never looked better. She was smiling, though it was distorted into an inhuman rictus. She'd screamed for about five seconds, but it had been cut short. She'd had convulsions. And then it was done, in under a minute. She'd sat up straight in the chair, her empty eyes staring at nothing. The bond she shared with Natael was not profoundly altered, but it had gone…flat. As if Toveine were in a coma, or sound asleep. There was no emotion, no pain, nothing strong enough for him to feel. She might as well be dead.

"Good work," Demandred said. "Get some sleep now. We'll start again tomorrow. Atal, Adrielle, keep the cattle in line until then. Make use of the other Friends of the Dark if need be. Taim, Natael…I trust you won't do anything even more idiotic than your pathetic attempt on my life. You would live to regret it – well, one of you would. The other would suffer the same fate as your mother, Natael."

Natael numbly turned around, but the Chosen had already disappeared through the gateway. His exotic channelers tied the shields they maintained on the Asha'man then followed their master.

Natael had almost forgotten about the other Aes Sedai, mainly because they'd remained entirely silent during the whole awful affair. He'd expected tears, remorse, fear. But their faces were blank, as if they were the ones who'd been Turned. "May we return to our rooms, Ghraem?" one of them asked politely. He couldn't remember her name. He could barely remember his own.

He tried to reply, but no sound would come.

Atal sniggered. He sounded more and more like Coteren, the brainless bully they'd ditched after Dumai's Wells. "You do realise that he's not really in charge here, yes? You will obey me, from now on, cattle."

Everyone ignored him. Even Adrielle rolled her eyes.

"Yes, you may return to your rooms," Taim told the Aes Sedai. "We'll…convene tomorrow."

To try to get ahead of this thing, Natael wondered? How could they? Everyone would have to take the oath. That was the best thing they could hope for, but even that seemed unlikely, at this point. Turning was frighteningly fast, and Demandred wouldn't want to waste his precious time swearing everyone in. But perhaps the Chosen would be in a more sunny disposition the next day. They could try to convince him…

"Everyone, get to bed," Taim said in a louder voice. "We will make arrangements in the morning."

Atal started to protest, but Adrielle grabbed his arm and whispered a few harsh words in his ear. They herded the Aes Sedai out of the ballroom, and the Asha'man followed.

"Maybe Desandre had the right of it," Taim murmured when they were back in his chambers. He was seated on the edge of the bed.

"She's certainly better off wherever she is," Natael concurred. He was pacing the room. He felt restless.

"We should consider…" He trailed off, but he looked into Natael's eyes. He didn't need to finish his sentence.

Mass murder, followed by suicide. It had crossed Natael's mind, in the short time they'd worked on Toveine. If the Light couldn't have the Asha'man, then nobody could. If the Shadow truly claimed the minds of the hundreds of recruits they'd assembled here, not to mention the Aes Sedai… It would be a devastating blow to the armies of the Light, when the time came.

Their options were growing scarce.

"We could disperse the men," Natael suggested. "Send them away in groups of ten or twenty and scatter them across the lands. They should be safe, that way." Although without gateways, they wouldn't go very far…

"That's something to think about," Taim said, though without much heart. "We should get some rest, Nate."

"Not sure I can sleep…"

"Then let's not sleep. But come to bed anyway."

Natael's shirt had just come off when something inside him snapped. He gasped loudly against Taim's mouth, and Taim misinterpreted it at first. Natael gently pushed him away, breathing hard. "There's something wrong," he said.

"Are you hurt?" Taim asked, a concerned look in his eyes.

Natael shook his head. "It's Toveine. The bond…it's gone."

Taim didn't have time to enquire further; a scream pierced the night. They gathered their clothes in a hurry, but the door banged open before they could investigate. "M'Hael," Asha'man Gorman panted, "Ghraem." He gulped down some air. "The Aes Sedai…"

"Did they kill Toveine?" Natael demanded. She had to be dead. Only he could remove the bond.

Gorman hesitated. "Er…yes, m'lord, but, um…also…"

"What?" Taim snapped. "Speak, man!"

"They're all dead. The Aes Sedai, that is."

Taim and Natael exchanged a confused look. Had the man gone mad? It was impossible!

"And, um, a few of the men."

What in the Pit of Doom? "What happened?" he barked at the poor Asha'man. Don't shoot the messenger, he reminded himself.

"Well, um, it appears that…the ladies ganged up to attack Adrielle Sedai. Um, because she was Black Ajah, I guess…" He trailed off.

"Yes?" Taim prompted him.

Gorman cleared his throat. "They were shielded, so they strangled her with...with her own shawl. Mezar tried to defend her…um, for some reason." Well, he was bonded to her. Black Ajah or not, there was a connection between them. "So they killed him, too." Gorman nodded.

And Adrielle's death had released at least some of the Aes Sedai from their shield, certainly. "Alright, that explains the death of three people, out of forty or fifty. What about the rest?"

"They must have killed Gylli next, because Atal came running. Maybe they used her as bait. Anyway, the Aes Sedai who could channel blasted Atal apart." He gagged. "There were bits of him everywhere on the floor and walls."

This, at least, was very satisfying. Natael only regretted that he hadn't been there.

"And then?" Taim asked wearily. He was so tense, the tendons in his neck stood out.

"A handful of Dedicated and Soldiers arrived next, I'm told. Likely Darkfriends." He spat at Natael's feet, but Natael didn't hold it against him. "The ladies made short work of them."

Blood and ashes, they would have to pry all the details out of him, wouldn't they? "And then?" Natael prompted him.

"One of the Aes Sedai must have stolen your supplies of, um, mercy poison, m'lord. After the initial bloodbath, they seem to have passed peacefully enough. There wasn't enough for all of them, though, so, um…they found other ways."

Goodness. They were a determined lot, he had to give them that. "Who screamed? Was it one of them?"

"Oh, no, m'lord, that was the maid who found them. And there was another maid in the corridor when it all happened, which is how I know how things went down. She's, um, a bit, um…"

"Shell-shocked?" Natael supplied.

"Traumatised?" Taim offered.

"Hysterical," Gorman said. "That's the word I was looking for, m'lords."

Understandably so.

Well. Aes Sedai couldn't harm others unless their lives were at risk…but apparently they could harm themselves whenever they felt like it. Or did they feel that their lives were at risk? That was entirely possible, given the circumstances. He had ordered Toveine not to harm herself, but the other Asha'man had had no reason to give the same command to their bondmates. Who would have thought it was necessary?

Gorman cleared his throat. "Um…also…"

Oh, come on! It couldn't get any worse than this, surely. "What?"

"Einar and the other men who had to take the oath followed the Aes Sedai's example. And, um…well, with their bondmates dead, some of the rest… I s'pose they were…distraught, and…"

"You said a few of the men!" Natael exclaimed. "Blimey, how many are dead?"

"Three Dedicated, two Soldiers and, um…" He gulped down noisily. "Er…twenty-two Asha'man, m'lord."

Twenty-seven men. They'd lost twenty-seven men in one night. In one hour.

That was when he noticed that Taim was no longer standing at his side. He'd taken a seat in one of the chairs. He looked absolutely wrecked by the report. "Er, Gorman, thanks for…" Having the guts to deliver the news? The man must have been terrified out of his wits. "Go down to the kitchens and tell Annie I said you could have a drink. Have a bottle of your choice. We'll take care of the rest. Go on." He shooed the Asha'man.

He joined Taim and sat on the armrest. "Are you alright?" Stupid question. He looked terrible, and no one in their right mind would be alright after hearing this. "Anything I can do? Do you want some wine? A massage? Both?"

Taim shook his head. "We're doomed. I mean, we were already doomed, but this is…"

The last straw, Natael thought. Except it wasn't. It was the opposite. "Don't you see?" he murmured. "The Aes Sedai saved us. I doubt that it was their primary intention, but they did."

Taim glared at him as if he'd gone mad. "Forty women died tonight, Nate, and more than half of our remaining Asha'man."

"Yes, but if we have no female channelers, we can't Turn the men who are still alive," he explained. He doubted that the women had sacrificed themselves for their sakes, but perhaps they had at least thought of that. After all, they were servants of the Light. "And they rid us of several Darkfriends. Including bloody Atal. Best of all, Demandred can't blame us – Adrielle and Atal were supposed to keep them alive until tomorrow, not us."

Taim's face froze for a moment. "Well, I suppose so, but… The human cost…"

"…is lesser this way," Natael finished for him. He knew how it sounded, and it may be callous, but it was the truth. The sad, sad truth. Appalling as it was, it was the best thing that could have happened. "It was them or the entire Tower. Demandred will be in a rage, but what can he do? Until the rebel Aes Sedai or the White Tower send emissaries, or an army, we're in the clear. There'll be no Turning for a while. Hopefully until Logain makes contact with al'Thor and returns with help." He leaned his head in the crook of Taim's neck. "There's hope for us yet, my love."

"Really?" Taim whispered. "Because I'm beginning to think that Turning me won't be necessary. My soul is already as black as it can get."

"It isn't your fault. The Aes Sedai made their decision." Just like Toveine knew they would. Had she foreseen this? Was that why she'd sacrificed herself? "Besides, I won't let Demandred Turn you. I wasn't bluffing, earlier, you know."

"I know. I'd do the same for you."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, but they had already indulged too much. They had quite a lot of bodies to bury before morning, and an elaborate cover-up story to invent.