Palace to ashes

Sorry about the fun songs

You old curmudgeon

"No, let me do it," Taim insisted. "The maids have seen enough blood for one night. Talk to them, make sure they don't tell anyone else about this."

"Darling, you cannot clean this entire floor by yourself." There was blood everywhere, and so many bodies… It was nauseating.

"I have to."

Natael sighed. He didn't have to; he felt that it was his duty. That was not the same thing. "Wouldn't it be easier to just…burn the place down?"

Taim looked at him with a scowl. "The whole palace? Are you insane?"

"Well…it's a good cover story. Atal revealed himself to be a Darkfriend, there was a confrontation… Something caught on fire and they were too busy fighting to put it out. It would explain how we lost all these Asha'man, too…" The Aes Sedai were not really a problem, since few people knew of their presence and, if they did, they didn't know what they were. They'd lost many men, though. Their families would demand an explanation.

"That's…" He slowly massaged his temples. "Yes, I understand your reasoning. I suppose…" He trailed off, his gaze unfocused.

Natael squeezed his shoulder to bring him back to reality, no matter how awful it was at the moment. "Don't worry about it. I'll talk to the maids, then I'll set the fire after all the living people have been safely evacuated. You should get some sleep."

"I should at least report this to al'Thor. That way, Logain will know, as soon as he finds the Dragon."

"It's not important right now," Natael admonished. "You have to sleep. You look like death."

Taim smirked. "Thanks, darling."

"Hey, you asked for complete honesty in our relationship. Telling you when you look terrible is just me doing my part. Now shoo. Take a sleeping draught if you must. I'll join you when I'm done cleaning up."

Taim mumbled under his breath, but he did leave. Natael was almost certain that he wouldn't go to bed, but at least he wouldn't have to deal with this nightmare.

"Gorman!" he shouted. The Asha'man must have been nearby, because he was at Natael's side two seconds later. "Where can I find the maid who witnessed most of the carnage?"

"She's in the kitchen, m'lord. I, um, shared some of the liquor you allowed me to take earlier. She's not drunk, though. She can hold her liquor, that one." He sounded impressed.

Natael started walking toward the kitchen and signalled for Gorman to follow. "What's her name? Does she have any family?"

"Her name's Tamzin. She, um, doesn't have any family here at the Black Tower, but she's…that is, she was Asha'man Ingozi's, um, sweetheart. He, um, was one of the men who swore the oath..."

And therefore one of those who had perished. Twenty-two Asha'man, dead. That left only eighteen of them; the rest had gone with Logain. A handful of Dedicated would be ready for a promotion in a few weeks, but if they couldn't open gateways, how were they supposed to recruit more men? Had Demandred even thought of that? Men still arrived from Caemlyn regularly, but it was a trickle compared to the numbers they had at the beginning.

"Gorman, how many people know what happened?"

"Just a handful, m'lord, all servants who work at night. We did our best to, um, contain the situation."

Natael nodded. "Good. Let me speak with Tamzin in private, then have them assemble in my study with the Asha'man."

Gorman saluted and left. He was more efficient than Natael had initially assumed. He took a deep breath before pushing the kitchen door open. There were two maids; he presumed that the one who was partially covered in blood was Tamzin. She sat on a stool, trembling hands holding a cup of clear liquid – the liquor Gorman had shared with her, certainly. The other woman was sitting on the floor, her back against the wall, hugging her knees. Not for the first time, Natael wished that Logain were here.

"I need to speak with Tamzin alone, please," he said. Neither woman reacted. Oh, bother. He squatted before the other maid, whose name he hadn't thought to ask. "Hello?" No response. "What's your name?" Nope, nothing.

"Her name's Ionadh, Lord Ghraem," Tamzin said. "She's very shy, even…" She trailed off and took a sip from her cup. "I mean, she's always shy."

"Ionadh, I need you to go to my study and wait there for a bit, yes? Can you do that, please?"

Apparently not. She was completely unresponsive.

"Maybe…maybe we should go to your study, Lord Ghraem? If she won't move."

Uh. Outsmarted by a maid. He must be tired. "Let's do that."

After three flights of stairs, Natael was already missing gateways. He tried to conceal the fact that he was utterly out of breath by holding the door open for Tamzin. Once inside, she stood at a respectable distance from the desk, as if she were trying to disappear into the background. Well, that was probably what she usually did. Force of habit and all that.

When he felt confident that he could speak without wheezing, Natael offered her a seat, which seemed to surprise her. She sat down gingerly, at the very edge of the seat, her back straight. She was pretty, Natael noted. Not that it was in any way relevant. "I won't ask for a full account of the night's events, since you've already talked to Asha'man Gorman, but I need a favour from you, Tamzin."

"I won't blab, my lord. I never told anyone about the Aes Sedai. Please, you don't need to kill me. Or Ionadh. She won't snitch. She barely talks to anyone."

Natael gaped at her. It had never even occurred to him… Perhaps it should have, but he had not considered murdering the maids who'd witnessed the scene. "I…wasn't going to. But how did you know they were Aes Sedai?"

"The faces, Lord Ghraem. When I was little, my parents took me to the White Tower to be Healed, because I had a bad fever. I recognised them for what they were right away."

"Good. I mean…it's good that you kept it to yourself."

"My lord, if I may ask a favour…"

"Go on."

"Asha'man Ingozi wanted his remains to be returned to his native Arafel, if anything ever happened to him. He wanted to be buried next to his brother. Will that be…possible?"

Natael pretended to mull it over, but it was out of the question. Without a gateway, it was impossible. "I'm afraid not. We can't…that is, we have decided to suspend Travelling for the time being."

"Could I perhaps take a leave of absence to do it myself? On foot? I could borrow a cart…"

She really cared about the man. But Demandred had warned them: any woman who was caught leaving the Tower would be killed on sight. They wouldn't bother to figure out if she was an Aes Sedai or not. "I can't let you do that. It's too dangerous. Besides…we're going to burn everything down. The building, the bodies…all of it."

She bowed her head in disappointment. "I understand."

"Perhaps…you could hold on to his pins, or another keepsake, and travel to Arafel when…when it's safer. Bury something next to his brother's grave and mark the place."

"Yes, I think he would have liked that."

"Go retrieve it now. I will talk to the Asha'man, then we'll have to evacuate. Would you make sure that Ionadh is not in the kitchen when we set the palace on fire?"

"I will. Thank you, Lord Ghraem." She stood and curtsied, then left the room without turning her back on him. Very proper.

Gorman poked his head inside the room after she departed. "M'lord? I've gathered everyone as you asked. We were waiting outside until you were done…"

"Bring them in."

Eighteen Asha'man. Two more maids and a valet. Natael explained what they were going to do and once again asked that no one speak of what they'd seen. The servants would be relocated in Taim's palace. The Asha'man would have plenty of room there, too, now that their number had been so brutally reduced. He sent the servants away, then had to talk to the Asha'man alone.

"I'm sorry for what happened," he declared. "We tried our best to… Taim and I did what we could to prevent this. We really did. I'm sorry it wasn't enough."

"Will we have to swear the oath, Ghraem?" Asha'man Nuorekas enquired. He was nineteen, barely a man, but he was a capable channeler who could keep a cool head in stressful situations. "Or will the Forsaken demand that you…Turn us?"

Natael hesitated. He had no idea what Demandred would say or do, how he would react to this unexpected development, but Turning, at least, was out of the question. Without the Aes Sedai, Turning men would be a real hassle, a waste of time.

"What happened tonight is dreadful, obviously, but the silver lining is that there will be no Turning for quite some time. Perhaps the Aes Sedai did what they did with that knowledge in mind, or perhaps not, but either way they have saved the rest of you. Never forget this. The witches' sacrifice saved your lives."

"We won't forget, Ghraem. May they shelter in the palm of the Creator's hand, and may the last embrace of the mother welcome them home," Nuorekas murmured.

"Yes…indeed. Um, has anyone seen the Myrddraal?"

"The Aes Sedai wanted to destroy the Shadowspawn, m'lord," Gorman said, "but they couldn't find them. We assume that they left when they saw what was going on."

Natael doubted that. Humans would have been afraid for their lives, but Myrddraal couldn't feel fear. They instilled it in others, but never experienced it. "They must still be here. Concealed in the shadows, awaiting Demandred's return."

"Should we locate them and slay them, Ghraem?"

"No, leave them be. On their own, they're useless for Turning. Demandred will want them back so they can be put to better use." He stood. "Gather your things, Asha'man, and make sure there's no one else in the building. We'll set the fire in half an hour."

They waited in Taim's study.

The fact that they had to wait for so long was a good thing, in Natael's opinion. It meant that, if Demandred still had Darkfriends at the Black Tower, they didn't have a direct way to contact the Chosen. If he had heard about last night's events, surely he would have showed up before nightfall.

"Is he going to kill us, this time?" Taim enquired. He didn't seem worried or really interested in the answer; he was just making conversation. He had not slept at all, just like Natael had predicted, but he had pretended to be asleep when Natael had returned from the smoky remains of his palace, well past dawn. Burning the place down was the easy part; the fire had to be controlled and put out when enough of the building was destroyed by the flames. It had taken hours.

Natael had made an announcement to the people – most of the Black Tower population, really – who had assembled to witness the fire. He explained that Atal Mishraile had betrayed them, and that many brave Asha'man had given their lives to stop his evil plan to destroy the Black Tower. No one questioned his words. Demandred was right about Blondie: nobody liked him very much.

Natael had given everyone the day off, following this tragedy, so that the families of the fallen Asha'man could grieve in peace and decide what they would do next. Natael invited them to stay at the Black Tower, insisting that they were safer here than anywhere else in the world.

There would be a memorial ceremony the next morning, he had told them. Taim and he may not be alive to see this through, but Gorman and the rest of the Asha'man would, certainly.

"He might," Natael replied in the same tone. He was exhausted. Unlike Taim, he wanted to sleep and had no doubt that he could, but there was simply no time. "In his rage, he might. If he can control his temper…probably not."

He won't kill me, anyway. Taim's life was the one that was really at stake here, which bothered Natael more than anything else. But what could he do about it? He would duel Demandred to the death if it came to it, but he had no chance of winning.

All they could do was wait. They did so in silence, sitting side by side on the desk, Natael's hand covering Taim's.

The moon was high in the sky when the Chosen finally returned. Demandred used the door, for once, though he didn't knock, of course. He didn't kick it open, either. He stood tall in the doorframe, arms at his side. His fists weren't clenched. His face was as impassive as usual. "Well. You did it, Joar. You actually did something I did not expect."

In other circumstances, Natael would have gloated. Rarely had anyone gotten the drop on Demandred, arguably the greatest general the world had ever known. In this case, though, he had to convince Demandred that he was not responsible for this tragically convenient development. "It was their own decision, Barid. Believe me, we were as surprised as you are."

"In fact, had they submitted the idea to us beforehand, I would have refused," Taim added. "We took a gamble last night, attacking you, but this is a different matter entirely."

They weren't even lying. It was a good thing that the Aes Sedai were gone, but they would never have agreed to this madness, had they known what the women were planning. There was much distrust and little liking between them, but they were human beings. That was a lot of people to sacrifice in the vague hope that it would solve a single problem.

Demandred asked something that Natael had never expected to hear from him, no matter the addressee. "How are you feeling, Joar?"

Natael and Taim exchanged a confused look. "I'm…fine?" he said eventually. "Bit tired, though."

"Why do you ask?" Taim demanded, his voice heavy with suspicion.

"Were you not devastated by what happened to that woman you bonded? The Turning, then her sudden death?"

Natael felt a spark of anger. "By the blood falls! Is that why you commanded me to remain bonded to her? Why you wanted her to be Turned before the rest? In the hope that it would torment me?"

"Why else?"

Natael scoffed. "But why? What have I ever done to you? We've never worked together, and I don't remember even talking to you. It can't be because I betrayed the Shadow. You hated me before that. You've always despised me."

"You know perfectly well why, you kjasic buffoon!" Demandred thundered. Oh, now he was in a rage.

Taim arched an eyebrow, but Natael was absolutely mystified. "What, did I maim someone you knew? Is it because of that one time I talked with Ilyena and made her laugh?"

Demandred rolled his eyes. "The songs, you idiot. The bloody songs."

Natael stared blankly at the Chosen for a moment, then he understood. Unfortunately, his first reaction was to laugh. Demandred's eyes flashed with fury.

"You hate him because of his music?" Taim said. "He's really not that terrible."

That cut the laughter short. "'Not that terrible'?" Natael repeated in a strangled voice, letting go of Taim's hand. Demandred was all but forgotten. "Wow. Just…wow. What wonderful praise, my dear." Not that terrible?! "You uncultured swine! I'm the greatest musician who has ever lived!"

"You're average and you know it," Demandred said. "Elan knew it, too. He just wanted to recruit you, and your ego had to be flattered."

"But you can't dislike someone so strongly simply because you find their music…average," Taim said.

"That's not what he's talking about," Natael said dryly. Did Taim even realise how insulting he was being? He was worse than Demandred! "He means the songs that I used to perform at Shayol Ghul. It's their content that he disliked, not the performance itself." He sighed. "It all started with Lanfear. She was always late to our meetings, you see. Hours late, sometimes. We had to pass the time. Some played sha'rah, others gambled at cards or dice. A few actually made conversation, but that was a rare occurrence. We couldn't drink, because it was best to attend these meetings sober, and food spoils quickly, that close to the Bore. One day I came up with an idea for entertainment. I made up a song about Lanfear and her fashionably late arrivals. Sammael nearly choked on his own laughter. Even gloomy Moghedien sang along, in the end. It became our unofficial anthem, and I would perform it at every meeting. Soon, whenever someone was late or had simply not been summoned, I would write a few lines about them and sing. It became a tradition, of sorts. And…well, Demandred was usually punctual to a fault, but…"

"There was an ambush!" Demandred complained. "I wasn't late on purpose, burn you!"

"I would never have dared," Natael hastened to say, "but the others insisted! You were the only one who didn't have a song."

"I never asked for one!" Demandred growled.

"You people are insane," Taim muttered. "Flaming mad."

Demandred rounded on him. "You wouldn't say that if he made a song about you. It was hurtful and humiliating. There was nothing amusing about it."

"Because it was too close to the truth?" Natael wondered innocently.

The Chosen's jaws were clenched. "I swear, the moment Elan has his back turned, I will kill you with my bare hands, Joar. But I'll murder Taim first, so you can watch."

Taim feigned to ignore that threat. "I was so sure you hated him because of…well, me. I mean, because we're together." He was turning redder with every word. "Because he likes men."

That took Demandred aback. "Why in the Pit of Doom would I even care about that? It's a risky tactic, but that's his problem, not mine."

"Tactic?" Taim repeated in a puzzled tone.

Of course Demandred would believe that Natael was with Taim for tactical reasons. The man wouldn't know affection or caring if it bit his hooked nose. "The people of this Age can be surprisingly judgemental about that sort of things, actually," Natael noted.

"Well, not in-" The Chosen cut off abruptly. Taim and Natael stared at him. Had he been about to reveal the name of the nation or city where he had established himself? Could Demandred come so close to making such a gigantic blunder? He must be rattled. Regardless, that was another clue, which Natael stored carefully in his mind. A land where two men could be together without raising eyebrows. Interesting. Maybe they should move there, when they figured out where it was.

Demandred did his best to pretend that nothing had happened. "Enough about the past, enough about the dead Aes Sedai. You will stay the course. The plan is still to Turn as many men as you can before the Last Battle."

Natael frowned. "You can't be serious. We have no women, Barid. How are we supposed to-"

"You know as well as I do that channelers of the opposite gender are not a requirement, Joar. They facilitate Turning, but are not necessary to it."

"Don't do this, Barid. I'm sorry, alright? I apologise for the song and its irreverent lyrics. Come on, only half a dozen people even remember-"

"It's 'Great Master', to you, worm!" the Chosen barked. "You will obey me. I expect to see mindless Dreadlords whenever I come to visit and, since Atal is gone, there will be no warning."

Natael opened his mouth again, but Demandred forestalled him. "I will not bring the Binding Rod again. You will Turn every single one of your channelers before Tarmon Gai'don, and that is final. And don't you dare murder your own recruits. Atal may be gone, but I still have eyes and ears at the Black Tower. Now get to work, you maggots!"

"What was the song about?"

Natael turned to Taim, scowling. "Really? That's what you retained from this entire interaction?"

Taim shrugged. "Nah, there's also the Turning, you being mad at me… But I'm curious. Was it about Lews Therin? I bet it was."

"Obviously. I compared them in…various ways. I suggested that Demandred joined the Shadow because Lews spurned him and replaced him with another, more attractive bimbo. It wasn't the fact that they were both men that made it funny," he clarified when he caught the look on Taim's face. "You heard Demandred. He doesn't care about these things. It's just because it was Lews Therin, and he hates Lews more than he hates me. Which, apparently, is still quite a lot. I never imagined… It was during one of our last meetings before the Bore was sealed that I made up the Demandred song, so it didn't become the famous Lanfear ballad everyone knew by heart and loved, but it was…catchy. I didn't even know he'd heard it, honestly. Everyone knew better than to say such things where Demandred could hear."

"I'm sure these songs will make a brilliant return when we've defeated the Shadow," Taim said. "But until then-"

"Only if they're sung by someone who is more than not that terrible," Natael noted. Did he sound bitter? Of course he did. Taim's opinion was the only one that mattered, and Taim didn't care for his music. It was the Elan debacle all over again.

"You have to know I didn't mean that," Taim protested. "Nate, I know nothing about music. I resent the words 'uncultured swine', but in this particular instance, it's true, I am. You sound good to me. More than good. Come on, don't be so grumpy. You know I love you…r music. Your music." He cleared his throat. "You were right, we should focus on the matter of Turning."

"Aw. I love you…r awkward attempt at changing the subject," he said with a bright smile. It was nothing like the Elan debacle. If anything, it was the exact opposite. His heart wasn't shattered; it was fuller than ever. In fact, despite the circumstances, he felt almost...happy.

"This is a pretty serious issue, Nate," Taim scolded him, though he was clearly holding back a smile. "What will happen if we use men to Turn other men? What's the difference with what we did to Toveine?"

"I don't know, exactly. I've never seen it done. The Chosen usually avoid it, because it takes time, and it drains the channelers. The ones who do the Turning and the ones being Turned," he explained. "I'm guessing it will be awful. Are we really going to do it?"

"Do we have a choice?" Taim asked quietly. "Except…what Demandred forbade us to do. You know…killing everyone, including ourselves."

"Maybe we should discuss the situation with the Asha'man. We've made all the important decisions on our own so far, and look where it led us… They may have suggestions. Hopefully good ones. But it'll have to wait until tomorrow. I need sleep, and so do you. Come to bed."

Taim followed him to the bedroom without protest. They snuggled comfortably under the covers. Natael was already half-asleep, but Taim had one last request: "I don't think I can sleep until I've heard the song." Natael groaned. "Please?"

"It's in the Old Tongue. You speak it decently now, but I doubt you can understand the masterful wordplay and subtle innuendos..."

"Try me."

Natael made a show of being forced to sing against his will, but of course he didn't mind. He would stop performing when he was dead, not a moment sooner.

He ended up singing half of his Shayol Ghul repertoire before realising that Taim had fallen asleep.