She had to learn to channel, that much was certain. She couldn't risk hurting other people because of her ignorance. It grated on her that she would have to ask Moiraine after all. She had considered going to the Wise Ones but changed her mind when she saw what they had Egwene doing. Never in a million years could she manage to scrape like that unless her life was in imminent danger, not after what had happened with Lanfear. She wished Rand could have taught her instead, but if a man had been able to teach her, Elan would have done it a long time ago. No, it had to be Moiraine.

She reached the Aes Sedai's room just before noon. The older woman was talking quietly to her Warder inside the room. They both hushed when they saw her approach. "Moiraine Sedai, may I have a word?" she asked the diminutive woman as demurely as she could.

Moiraine studied her for a moment before nodding. "Come in, please," she said coolly.

Neya stepped inside, silently blessing the cool interior. She had trouble adjusting to the intense heat of the days. "I apologise if I was rude to you the other day," she began without preamble. "Can you teach me how to embrace the Source and channel?" she went on evenly.

The corner of Moiraine's mouth twitched slightly. "You do need guidance and discipline. I'd be glad to begin your training, but you must enrol in the White Tower as soon as we reach Tar Valon," she said firmly.

"I think I'll pass, but thank you for the offer," she told the Aes Sedai politely. This was not what she had come for. "I only need the rudiments, just enough to make sure I don't do anything stupid, so to speak," she went on.

Moiraine arched one eyebrow. "You are not aware of your own strength, are you, child?" Neya shook her head slowly. "Can you sense the ability to channel in myself?"

"I think so," Neya replied hesitantly. Suddenly her eyes widened. "Now you're glowing!"

Moiraine nodded. "I have embraced the Source. I am going to weave a simple thread of Air," she said.

Neya grinned at her enthusiastically. "I can see it! It's right there," she pointed in the direction of the thread of saidar.

"I assume that you have touched the Source before," Moiraine inquired.

Neya nodded gravely. "I have. Twice. But I don't know how I did it. My… friend… was seriously injured and I Healed him," she said carefully. "The first time… I don't remember it at all. I was scared and I panicked and all of a sudden I was filled with this odd sensation of joy and peace and everything made perfect sense," she explained haltingly. "I was unconscious for hours afterward, and I woke up with no memory of Healing him."

"And the second time?" Moiraine asked.

"It was pretty much the same thing," she answered, "but this time I was aware of everything I did. The weaves seemed to flow of their own accord, but I couldn't show you what I did even if I knew how to produce the weaves. And before you ask, yes, he survived, without any apparent ill effects," she added, thinking back on what Egwene had said earlier.

The Aes Sedai appeared to consider this. "What kind of injury did your… friend… sustain?" she asked eventually.

"Does it matter?" Neya countered defensively before cursing herself for a fool. She needed the woman's help. There was no sense in antagonising her. She took a deep, calming breath. "Sorry. He got burned the first time and was stabbed a few months later. It was certainly more than a scratch or a bruise," she said wryly.

"I see," Moiraine said noncommittally. "Let us start with the basics. You will try to embrace the Source," she went on. She explained how to do it and, when Neya couldn't work that one out, she described another way to achieve it. It failed again. Neya was becoming quite frustrated. It had been so easy before, when she didn't have to think about what she was doing. Finally, Moiraine told her to stop. "It appears that you have developed a block," she announced quietly. When Neya scowled, she clarified her meaning. "It is a coping mechanism unconsciously developed to avoid the reality of your ability to channel. It's not uncommon among wilders. Self-taught channelers, people who possess the ability inborn and have acquired some sort of control over the Power without formal training," she explained again when Neya opened her mouth.

"But what does it mean, concretely? How do I push past the block? Can I push past it?" Neya asked, already dreading the answer.

Moiraine pursed her lips, reflecting on the matter. "Blocks can be removed, although like the block itself, the method employed to break it depends on the individual. In your case, it is assumed that you can only access the Source when someone has been grievously hurt, or maybe even when that particular person has been hurt. We must therefore find a way to bypass this necessary circumstance," she went on. "In the White Tower, the most common means is to beat the block out of the channeler," she stated conversationally. "Suffering a great shock or traumatic experience has also been known to break down a block. I'm afraid there is no easy way to find out."

Neya stared at her for a long time, pondering this. "So maybe asking the Wise Ones for training wasn't such a bad idea after all," she said with a faint grimace. "They'd probably be happy to beat it out of me. But I won't do that. I don't need to channel. When I do need to, it will mean someone has been injured, so the block won't matter anyway. So why bother?" she asked with a small shrug.

"It is dangerous, but you already know this, I suppose. The risk that you might burn yourself out when you do embrace the Source will be greater, as you have not learned the proper discipline. Your best option would be to accompany me to the White Tower," she said again.

Neya was shaking her head. "I have no intention of becoming an Aes Sedai," was all she said.

"What else would you do? You are what you are, child, and sooner or later this simple fact will catch up with you," Moiraine told her.

"I can become whatever I want to be. I want to travel the world, be my own woman. I don't want a leash," she replied earnestly.

Someone called the Aes Sedai's name outside the room, probably Lan. Moiraine turned to Neya briefly, standing up. "We will talk again, soon. In the meantime, be careful," she cautioned as she left.

Neya returned to her room afterward, mulling over her conversation with Moiraine on the way back. She decided to ask Natael for advice. After all, despite the fact that he was behaving like a moody, spoiled brat, he was one of the most powerful channelers alive, with the knowledge of the Age of Legends.

As usual, the man was sprawled on his cot, plucking idly at the cords of his harp. He looked as melancholy as she'd ever seen him. "Natael?" she said softly. "Can we talk?" She sat next to him on the cot without waiting for an answer. Obviously annoyed at her interruption, he sighed heavily. He didn't bother to reply, however, and never took his dark, sulking eyes off his harp. "I have a block. I can't embrace the Source whenever I want to. What do you know of such things?" she questioned him.

He sighed again, to make sure she knew how much she was exasperating him. "Not much. Blocks – bars, as we used to call them – were an extremely rare occurrence in my days. There were no such things as wilders back then," he told her. "What kind of bar is it?" he asked after a brief hesitation.

"Moiraine says I can't touch the Source unless someone gets hurt. She also said it might be tied to a specific person, since I've Healed him twice under similar circumstances."

"Ishamael," Natael whispered. Neya nodded. The former Forsaken seemed to consider this. "What an odd relationship you two must have had," he went on in a low voice, speaking almost to himself. "Did he ever tell you why you were there in the first place? I know you held back a lot of information from Lanfear that day," he told her pointedly, meeting her eyes. "How you managed that is beyond me, but you obviously did."

"I don't know either," she said with a small shrug. "To answer your question, he told me once that fate had brought us together. That's all he ever said on the subject."

Natael surprised her by letting out a dry, mirthless chuckle. "That was always his favourite justification," he said with a sneer. "He did a great many things on a whim, Ishamael did. When we inquired about them, he would say it was meant to be, that it was fated, or that it was the will of the Pattern," he said disdainfully. "I suspect he had no idea why he did anything, most of the time."

Neya smiled fondly. "I suspect you are right. But back to the matter at hand," she prompted him.

"I told you, girl, I don't know much about bars. I can't help you, even if I wanted to, and I'm not sure I do," he said before she could go on. Just like that, he was all gloomy again. Light, but the man could be irritating! His mood seemed to change every other minute. Was he mad, like Elan? And Lanfear, for that matter. Maybe spending millennia confined in Shayol Ghul had addled the Forsaken's brains.

It seems that she would have to deal with the block on her own. There was no way she would go to the Wise Ones for help. She would never let anyone hurt her again, not if she could prevent it.

Natael had begun to play, a doleful lament she thought she had heard before. Elan hadn't known many joyful tunes. Light, how she missed him.