Even translating book titles from the Old Tongue was frustrating, gruelling work. Some words weren't mentioned in the lexicons, quite a lot of them. Others seemed to have more than one meaning, sometimes as many as four or five, none of them related in any way. Whenever she found something potentially interesting, she started by analysing the table of contents before settling to translate a few sentences from the book proper.

Most of what she'd uncovered up to this point held little interest. There were technical books recounting the various uses for weaves made by saidin and saidar and catalogues filled with descriptions of something called ter'angreal that she found no translation for; biographies of obscure characters; atlases and maps of lands she had never heard of. And then she'd found something very different, stashed behind yet another shelf, in a small alcove holding neatly lined-up books: the complete collection of Elan Morin Tedronai's published works.

At first she hadn't understood. Why would the man hide this particular set, as if it was more important than the other books? She'd tried to decipher the titles, but they were complex. She thought one was called Reality and the Absence of Meaning, and another The Dismantling of Reason or maybe The Disassembly of Reason. All in all, the translated titles were about as much help as they had been in the Old Tongue. She'd put them aside for the time being, carefully placing them back where she'd found them and hoping he wouldn't notice.

It had all clicked together when she'd re-read the thin leather-backed copy of A Brief Account of the Breaking. 'Ishamael, the Betrayer of Hope, once known as Elan Morin Tedronai…'

Eyes fixed on the page, she felt a stab of terror so strong she thought she might have fainted, had she not been lying in bed. It was impossible. The Dark One and all of the Forsaken are bound in Shayol Ghul, she recited, a litany that everyone knew.

And yet here she was, a captive in a cave carved in the side of a rock, or mountain, lost in the middle of the sea, detained by a man who could channel and whose eyes and mouth blazed fire. It almost made sense, if anything could still be said to make sense. It didn't explain why she was here, but at least she knew who she was dealing with. She would have been relieved, if she hadn't been quite so terrified.

He was back again. How long had it been this time? He seemed to keep away longer every time. She thought she'd been here for four months already, maybe five. This was only the fourth time she'd seen him in that stretch of time. After the day he'd eaten here for the first time, he'd been gone at least three weeks. Then he'd appeared in the middle of the night, asking for food again. She'd gone back to bed after serving him without a word. He hadn't said anything else and had been gone when she woke up the next morning. The third time, he arrived after she'd just started cooking her meal for the day. When she told him that he would have to wait, he rolled his eyes and left as abruptly as he had come.

He had been gone a month now, and she was worried he wouldn't come back at all. Not that it changed anything whether he was there or not, but he was her only way out of here. If anything happened to him, she would die here alone, forgotten. She hadn't yet managed to come up with a satisfactory idea on how to escape this wretched place, but she was absolutely certain that her best chance lay with him. She had to become closer to him, somehow. How she was going to accomplish that with him gone pretty much all of the time remained a mystery, though.

Well, he was here now. She'd awoken to find him sitting at the table, studying a map. He hadn't moved or said anything when she'd walked into the room. Not sure what to do, she'd settled to fix them both some breakfast. She placed the tray on the table and sat in front of him. The second chair hadn't been there the previous day, but she was past wondering about such trifles. They ate in silence for a while. He spoke suddenly, as if noticing her just then. "There you are. I was wondering whether you were still alive."

Against all odds, I am, she thought bitterly. A dozen sarcastic replies came to her, but she knew better than to utter them aloud. She made her tone as neutral as she could. "I was wondering the same thing about you." She itched to ask where he'd been, what he was doing that justified his staying out there for so long. What was happening in the world? She'd reflected that, if he truly was who she thought he was, it could mean that the world was under a greater threat than it knew. Though surely, if the Dark One were loose, she would know. Wouldn't she?

He gave her a twisted smile. "Alive as always. You've been taking good care of the place, it seems."

"Not much else to do. I'm not too keen on climbing or swimming," she said with a small shrug.

He chuckled wryly. "Surely you have found some books to your liking in this jumble," he said, gesturing toward the bookshelves.

Was this a trick question? Did he know she knew? Blood and ashes, calm down. He's just making conversation. "I have indeed. I'm becoming increasingly fluent in the Old Tongue," she told him casually.

"Are you now?" he said with a smirk. He added something in the Old Tongue, speaking too fast for her to understand more than a couple of words. One of those sounded a lot like the word for 'ignorant'. To be fair, she had never heard the language spoken aloud before. He chuckled again when he saw the look on her face, shaking his head. "You know nothing, pet."

I know more than you think, Betrayer of Hope. She gave him a sweet smile. "Then teach me."

He stared at her, face impassive. "Don't you think I have better things to do than try to instil ancient knowledge in you, pet?"

"I don't know. Do you?" She could have slapped herself. She was supposed to make him open up to her, not enrage him!

To her surprise, he laughed. As usual, the sound came out as a slightly deranged cackle. It was incredible how quickly his mood could turn. He sounded lucid enough when he talked, but it seemed clear to her that the madness inherent to channeling saidin was deeply rooted in him. "I suppose it's a matter of opinion," he replied thoughtfully. "I like to think that what I do is of the utmost importance, but what you and I find important are certainly two different matters entirely." He narrowed his fiery eyes at her. "Why do you want to learn the Old Tongue? Do you think it will somehow allow you to escape this place?" He sounded genuinely curious, as if he couldn't believe she could be so dim.

"No, but it will help me bear the crushing weight of boredom," she replied as nonchalantly as she could.

"Indeed. Well, I'm afraid you will have to bear it a little while longer, pet. The chase is coming to an end, I can feel it, but until then I must stay focused on the prey," he told her, eyes blazing.

She had no idea what he was talking about. She didn't think he would answer if she asked, however, so she let it go. "Afterward, then, when your… task… is completed. Unless you're planning on releasing me once you're done?" she added hopefully.

"Little pet, when my task is completed, I promise you, you won't be burdened by anything ever again. None of us will be," he said softly.

On that sunny note, he stood up and vanished once more.