A new toy for me

I love arguing with you

Yay, we won this round

Natael read the report a second time, his eyes widening. "Why am I only seeing this now?" he demanded.

The young Dedicated, Ideges, wrung his hands, staring at the ground. "Respectfully, Ghraem, Asha'man Mishraile assured me that he would take it to you right away… That was some time ago, though. Before we found out that he's…er, was a…" He nearly choked on the last word, which came out in a barely audible whisper: "Darkfriend." He went on in a halting tone. "After the…incident at your palace, Lord Taim had us arrest Asha'man Mishraile's…er, good friend, Dedicated Altmann. In case he was also a…"

"Darkfriend, yes, I'm aware of this." They had hanged Altmann the day after the fire. He'd attacked the men who were supposed to bring him in for questioning, which was an admission of guilt if ever there was one.

"It took us a while to sort through his things," the Dedicated apologised. "There was much correspondence, most of it indecipherable."

"What do you mean?"

"'twas written in some sort of code, m'lord. This report, they merely intercepted it, which is why it's not in their evil language."

"I'll take a look at the Shadow letters." He doubted he would be able to crack the code, but it was worth a try. There could be priceless intelligence in these messages – instructions from Demandred, insights into his plans, and perhaps more clues regarding his whereabouts. "Was there anything else of note?" He dearly hoped not. This was bad enough.

The Dedicated hesitated. "…no, Ghraem."

Natael sighed. "I know you're lying. Do you want to spend the next two months testing new recruits?" It was considered the most tedious chore among the Dedicated.

"Well, there was a…portrait. Of you, m'lord. A fairly accurate one, but it was…defiled. The eyes were scratched out, they drew a silly moustache, and, er…"

"Yes?" Natael prompted him, though he wasn't sure why. You'd think he had heard enough, wouldn't you?

"It was pinned to the wall just above the chamber pot." He cleared his throat, looking away. "There were stains…" he muttered.

"Classy," Natael said dryly. "Thank you, Dedicated. You are dismissed. If you happen to see M'Hael, please let him know that I need to talk to him in the study."

"I'm right here," Taim called from the door. Ideges saluted them both and made a quiet exit. "What's the problem this time?"

"Why do you assume it's a problem?"

Taim raised an eyebrow as he settled into the chair across from Natael. "Is it not?"

"Of course it is, but you shouldn't be so pessimistic all the time, darling, it's bad for you. You'll get wrinkles centuries before you're due."

Taim groaned in despair. "Just tell me."

"It seems that my old colleague Aginor – you may remember him as Corlan Dashiva – and some of his friends of a certain shade attempted to murder our lord and future saviour."

Taim's face didn't change. "The key word here is 'attempted', I think. They're not the first to try, and they won't be the last. Why is it so important?"

"Well, they're Asha'man… They're our responsibility."

"One could argue that they're al'Thor's responsibility. The amnesty was his idea."

"But we gave him the bad Asha'man on purpose… Something like this was going to happen sooner or later."

"Except that nothing happened," Taim countered. "Was al'Thor injured?"

"No, but…" Natael leaned forward on the desk. "Are you alright?" He was acting strangely. He'd spent the past few days wallowing in guilt over something that was entirely beyond his control; why was he suddenly intent on blaming al'Thor for this when he had to know that it was indeed partly their fault?

"If it was so bloody important, why didn't he come in person to let us know?" Taim said, ignoring Natael's last question. "We don't even know where he is. How could we have prevented it? He tells us nothing. He never visits. And yet he expects us to ward off the Light knows how many Forsaken and protect everyone…"

Ah…the guilt had shifted to anger. Anger that Taim had apparently decided to direct at the farm boy… As if not enough people felt angry at the Dragon Reborn already.

Also, this was how most of the Forsaken had become Forsaken (no matter how much they preferred the term "Chosen"). Natael didn't want Taim to follow that path. It would destroy him – destroy them both.

"Al'Thor is younger even than you, Taim, and he's spent most his life herding sheep. He's barely a man, and he has been burdened with the fate of the entire world. I know that you once coveted the title, but after being in charge of several hundred people for a few months, and failing them so many times, do you still wish you were the Dragon Reborn? Do you want that weight on your shoulders? Do you really believe that you would do a better job? You still haven't fully processed what happened at Dumai's Wells, let alone the whole Aes Sedai mess. Al'Thor has to process things like that weekly, if not daily."

Taim was staring at him, more surprised than angry now. "You're defending him? After everything? He could have-"

"We decided not to ask for his help at the beginning because we thought he couldn't be trusted. Now we've sent Logain on his trail in the hope that he's sane enough to forgive us and come to our aid, even if it's too late for the people we've already lost. Some of them can be saved, Taim. We still don't know if our latest strategy will work, if it will even buy us some time."

"I highly doubt it," Taim mumbled. "It's the most ridiculous idea I've ever heard. A child would have come up with something better."

"And yet you had no alternative suggestion," Natael reminded him. "We voted, Taim. The Asha'man were unanimous. You cannot deny them the right to defend themselves, no matter how…unorthodox the method." He waved the subject away. It had caused quite enough arguments. "You cannot blame al'Thor for what happened. You cannot blame yourself. The only person to blame is Demandred. The Shadow is the enemy, Taim. You must remember that. If they manage to divide us, they have already won. Besides, knowing al'Thor, he already blames himself for everything, even if he's not aware it's happened yet."

"That makes no sense."

"It would, to him."

Taim was silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "What happened to the Asha'man who attacked him?"

"They escaped."

"Does al'Thor expect us to hunt them down?"

"There were no instructions, merely a brief account of what happened."

Taim rolled his eyes. "As usual. Well then, we'll declare them deserters and traitors and await further information from al'Thor or from our eyes and ears."

Come to think of it, it was odd that their spies – few and scattered as they may be – had not reported the incident.

"Without gateways," Taim went on, "there isn't much we can do anyway."

"Good, you are both here," someone else said.

Oh, bother. "Back so soon?" Natael said in a resigned tone, looking up as Demandred entered the room without an invitation.

Taim had tensed visibly. "It's only been a week. We've only had time to Turn two-"

"Yes. I saw one of them outside." Natael nearly exhaled with relief. Taim's eyebrows rose, but he masked his surprise before Demandred could notice. "But it is not why I'm here today."

Ugh, what now?

Demandred shooed Taim out of his seat and took it for himself. Taim didn't complain; he leaned against the desk, arms crossed. Natael didn't think he'd ever seen Demandred sitting in the presence of potentially hostile people, and unshielded channelers at that. Was he tired? There were shadows under his eyes, but those had been there since the War of Power. He notoriously slept only a few hours a night, when he slept at all. "We have a problem."

That didn't bode well. The use of "we" was especially ominous.

"Lews…" The Chosen pinched the bridge of his nose. "Al'Thor has gone mad."

That was more than a problem. It was a bloody disaster. Natael didn't dare look at Taim, for fear of seeing his own despair reflected in his lover's eyes.

"What happened?" Taim enquired. He didn't sound desperate, or even worried. Vaguely curious, perhaps.

"Nothing has happened yet," Demandred replied. "But he plans to destroy the world."

"That doesn't sound like something the lad would do on purpose, let alone plan to do," Natael noted.

Demandred shook his head wearily. He'd never looked more vulnerable than he did at this moment. Should they try… He chanced a glance at Taim, but he was entirely focused on the Chosen. "What does he intend to do, precisely?"

"To cleanse saidin," Demandred replied in a murmur.

Natael gaped in shock, even more so when he realised that Taim was very nearly smiling. "Seems like a logical move. He wants an army of soldiers who aren't liable to go mad at any moment. After all, he has no idea that the Black Tower belongs to the Shadow. I'm not sure what's the problem… Untainted saidin would benefit us more than the Dragon." Natael didn't know why Taim bothered to pretend to be on the Shadow's side when Demandred clearly knew better, but perhaps he did so out of habit. Or to set an example for the poor recruits who were condemned to pretend the exact same thing until the Last Battle.

Demandred looked at Taim as if he had gone mad. "That's neither here nor there. There's a difference between wishing for something impossible and actually trying to do it. The fool is going to kill us all in the attempt."

"How so?" Natael asked. There was something that Demandred wasn't telling them.

"The idiot plans to use the Choedan Kal."

"Huh." That was all that Natael could manage. Demandred was right; if the lad used the sa'angreal, they would likely all die.

"What's the Choedan Kal?" Taim wanted to know.

"The most powerful sa'angreal ever created," Demandred replied. "So powerful, in fact, that it has never been used. It's too dangerous."

"The Choedan Kal is the reason why I was in the Aiel Waste," Natael added. "I was looking for the access key, and-"

"No one wants to hear of your dramatic failures, Nessosin," Demandred said impatiently. "We need to stop this madness."

Natael gave him an affronted look. "And how do you propose we do that?"

"Moridin wants us to be there when Lews…when al'Thor makes his attempt. We must foil him at all costs."

"We're supposed to try and stop him while he's channeling through the bloody thing?!" Natael exclaimed.

"He'll be focused on the task at hand," Demandred said. "He'll be distracted and vulnerable."

Taim sneered. "Yes, and I'm sure he'll be all alone out there… No guards or anything to keep intruders out of the area."

Demandred warned him not to be sarcastic in his presence with a glare. "A handful of these so-called Aes Sedai, the few remaining Asha'man that he has at his disposal… The rest will be non-channelers. We can easily remove these pawns from the game."

This was the real madness, in Natael's estimation: to underestimate the primitives of this Age. They may be ignorant and uncouth, but they were more resourceful and resilient than the Chosen gave them credit for. And they were bloody stubborn.

Taim remained impassive. "And how are we supposed to Travel there?"

"I will modify the Dreamspike so that you two can open gateways."

Natael slapped his forehead. Of course it was flaming Dreamspike! How had he not guessed that? Well, it didn't matter. There was nothing they could have done about it anyway.

Demandred stood. "I will notify you when the time comes. Be ready. And do speed the Turning along. Tarmon Gai'don approaches." Probably just to show off, he opened a gateway right there and disappeared through it.

Natael caught Taim trying to sneak a peek before it vanished. "It's always the same room," he muttered.

"Let's not worry about it now," Natael said. "We obviously have bigger concerns."

Taim eyed his former seat with a faint grimace, and ultimately decided to stay where he was, though he turned in Natael's direction. "Is it really that bad? I mean, if al'Thor succeeds…"

"I hate to agree with Demandred, but there's no way this will end well. For one thing, I doubt that what the boy wants to do is feasible, no matter how it's done, and for another… Well, even in our Age, we feared the power of the Choedan Kal."

"But you tried to steal the access key," Taim remarked. "You must have intended to do something with it."

"It was her idea," he mumbled. Taim frowned questioningly. "Lanfear wanted the key. The whole Aiel Waste scheme was her idea. I just…tagged along."

"Why?"

A fair question, but one that Natael preferred not to answer. "Well I…had nothing else going on," he replied evasively.

"Is it because she scared the living daylights out of you? You can say it without shame. I never had the pleasure to meet her – alive and awake – but I grew up with tales of the Daughter of the Night, who snatches naughty little boys in their beds at night and eats them…"

Natael chuckled. "Your parents didn't understand the purpose of a bedtime story, did they?"

"My mother rarely got the chance to tuck me into bed. This was the kitchen matron's favourite way of punishing me for stealing freshly-baked buns."

Natael stared. He'd never heard Taim mention anything from his past, let alone from his childhood. "What did your mother do?"

"I thought we had bigger concerns to discuss?"

Oh well. Another time, perhaps. "Indeed. By the way, it's not because I was scared of Lanfear…" He was. Always had been. Even before she became Lanfear. But that was beside the point. "I tried to…evade my responsibilities, after I came out of my long slumber in the Bore. I don't even know how Lanfear found me, but she said I had to help her, or else she would report me to Ishamael." He sighed. "As you know, he and I have a complicated relationship."

"I'm aware," Taim said curtly. Ooh, was this a hint of jealousy Natael detected in his voice? How sweet. "Isn't there a way to…disable the sa'angreal?"

"If there was one, I'm fairly certain that Elan would know of it, and he would have done so already."

"What can we do, then? Any suggestions?"

"I'm afraid not," Natael said. "If Logain has somehow already reached the boy, he may be able to talk some sense into him, but that's a long shot. If you didn't know about the Choedan Kal, Logain probably doesn't, either. Besides, he would be tempted to let al'Thor give it a try regardless of the risks, considering the potential reward…"

"Well, so am I," Taim said. "Imagine if-"

Natael shook his head. "It's not going to happen. Our best hope is to shut down the operation before al'Thor can begin channelling through the Choedan Kal. After that, he'll be virtually unstoppable."

"But he will be focused on the task at hand, like Demandred said. He'll be counting on his guards to ward off an assault. If we can buy him enough time-"

"So you're not only willing to give this madness a chance, you actually want us to help the lad destroy the world?"

"Weren't you berating me to give al'Thor the benefit of the doubt just half an hour ago?"

"That was before Demandred informed us of his plan!"

They glared at each other. Taim relented after a moment, sighing heavily. "Look, I didn't give your idea any credit and, against all odds, it seems to be working. And it was the most insane idea I've ever heard. I never thought we could pull it off, not for one second. Granted, Demandred had other things on his mind, but-"

"That's completely different!" Natael insisted. "Don't compare my elegant solution to a thorny problem with al'Thor's unrealistic schemes."

"What do you propose, then? That we go there and actually try to kill al'Thor?"

"Stop him, not kill him. I don't think that they want him dead."

"Well, do what you want. But if there's even a slight, nay, an infinitesimal chance that al'Thor accomplishes his goal… I'm willing to take it. You can pretend to follow orders while I deal with the other Chosen, or whoever they send. Don't complain to me afterwards about any fireballs singeing your fancy clothes, though," he added with a smirk.

Natael hesitated. He was tired of arguing. Did it really matter? It always came down to the same conclusion: they were likely to die whatever they decided to do. "Fine, fine, you win. Again."

"Again?" Taim exclaimed. "You always win our arguments! You always get your way!"

"It's not a competition, darling. It's all about compromise."

"Don't play the old wise man card," Taim warned him. "It never works."

Probably because Natael was far from wise. Or old. The three thousand years he'd spent inside the Bore didn't count; they'd been over that several times.

There was a knock on the door. They both said, "Come in!" at the same time, but Natael didn't mind that anymore.

It was Asha'man Gorman. His eyes were blank. He bowed and spoke tonelessly. "Great Masters. You summoned me?"

Taim really smiled, for once. "You can drop the act, Asha'man. He's gone, and he has more important things to do than spy on us at the moment."

"Great performance," Natael congratulated him. "We think he bought it."

Gorman relaxed, his shoulders slumping. "Thank the Light. It's harder than it looks, m'lords, to be utterly expressionless all the time. Especially when, um, Demandred is staring right at you. I thought for sure he'd see the fear in my eyes, or notice that I was sweating…"

"If he did, he didn't comment on it," Natael said, "and Demandred rarely misses an opportunity to tell me I've done something wrong. We're in the clear for now. We'll have to pick another recruit soon, though. That's why I wanted to talk to you. Have you decided on anyone?"

"Aye. Another Dedicated, Ghraem. Um, Attur, his name is."

"Good. We'll fill him in tomorrow and I'll teach him how to behave like a soulless person." He was really good at this, for some reason. Maybe because he'd spent so much time around zomaran, after he joined the Shadow. These creepy creatures used to be at every event.

Was his idea to give lessons in theatrics to some of the men to give the illusion that they'd been Turned to the Shadow insane? Perhaps, but it was brilliant. So simple, so easy to implement. It was hard on those recruits, though. Gorman had volunteered, but they had to use Soldiers and Dedicated, too, otherwise Demandred would get suspicious. The Chosen knew that the Asha'man were aware of everything that was going on. That meant that they had to trust more recruits with their secrets, but as long as it worked… The ploy was merely supposed to buy them some time, anyway. It would not hold until the Last Battle. Although if Demandred had one flaw, it was that he sometimes had trouble reading people. If the recruits managed to keep in character whenever they were outside, it could work for some time… Weeks, or even months, if they were especially lucky and didn't accidentally hire a Darkfriend. Natael trusted Gorman, though. The Asha'man was an excellent judge of character. Informally, he was their new Damer Flinn. (Though Natael did miss the codger. He hoped he was alright.)

"Thank you, Gorman," Taim said. "Get some rest, you deserve it."

"Don't forget to-"

"I know, Ghraem. Always stay in character unless you give me permission to, um, act normal." He chuckled softly. "I hope I don't forget how to be normal when this is all over." With that, he left.

"He's a very optimistic chap, isn't he?" Natael commented. "'When this is all over'. Aw. If he only knew."

"Mm, you did tell me not to be so pessimistic all the time… Take your own advice, perhaps?" Taim suggested, a half-smile on his lips.

Natael grunted. "Again, that was before Demandred came bearing bad news…"

Taim went around the desk and massaged Natael's shoulders. "Don't pout so much, darling, you'll get wrinkles."

"I hate it when you use my wise words against me," he grumbled.

"I know what will cheer you up," Taim said. He squeezed Natael's shoulders. "Come with me."

Natael followed him. "While I love that going to the bedroom is your answer to all of our arguments these days, we should continue our discussion about-"

"You agreed with my plan, if I remember correctly. What else is there to talk about? We can't exactly make plans, since we have no clue when or even where it will happen. Forget about it for the night."

Taim opened the door their bedroom. Natael was already unbuttoning his shirt, but he froze in his steps when he caught sight of something inside the room. Whatever it was, it was large, but it was covered by a sheet. "Is that…a full-length mirror? I thought you didn't want me to have one because it would take me even longer to dress in the morning…"

Taim said nothing, but he was smiling again. Whatever the surprise was, he was proud of himself. In a grand, theatrical gesture, he removed the sheet.

Natael was rarely rendered speechless, but this was one of these times.

A harp. A pedal harp, not the small one he usually carried strapped to his back.

"You couldn't stop singing the other night, but I haven't heard you play any instrument lately. I thought…perhaps if it was your favourite instrument, you'd feel more-"

"No one has ever…" His speech was returning, but there was something wrong with his voice. His eyes felt…humid. "That's the most thoughtful…" He had to clear his throat. Flaming ashes, was he going to cry?

Ugh, Taim was grinning now, like a bloody madman. Infuriating as it was, though, Natael had never loved him more. He even considered saying it. Was it too soon? Was there ever a good time to say that? Not half-jokingly, as they'd done recently, but…sincerely?

No. He was feeling emotional because of the harp. He couldn't say it now. Taim was bound to believe that he had to buy Natael shiny new things for him to be happy, if he said it now.

That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, though.

"Nate? Do you like it?" Taim's grin had faded; he looked hesitant. "Is there something wrong with it?"

"No, it's perfect. It's bloody perfect. I just don't know what to say."

"Thank you?" Taim suggested.

Natael chuckled and moved closer to him. "Thank you." He put his arms around Taim's neck and kissed him deeply. "I didn't get you anything, though," he said some time later.

Taim was a little out of breath. "Well, thanks to you, we haven't had to kill anyone in a few days. That's a great gift."

"I want to thank you more properly, but I'm dying to-"

"Of course," Taim said. "Go on, try it."

It really was perfect. The music flowed, gentle, melodious, filling his ears and his mind. He may have actually cried at some point, but he didn't care. It had been too long. When he was done, he stood and planted himself in front of Taim. He was smiling again. Too much smiling would give him wrinkles, too, but Natael didn't care about that, either. They'd be lucky if they lived long enough to be old and wrinkled. He took Taim's hands and stared into his eyes. "I love you."

"Oh, I know." He laughed, presumably at the offended look on Natael's face. "I love you, too, old man. Now come to bed. There must be some argument we haven't settled yet."