Mazrim lay behind Neya, as he often did, with an arm tightly wrapped around her shoulder. He liked it this way; when he held saidin, as he often did, he could feel her heart beating and hear her even breathing – and yes, her light snoring. He found it all very… comforting.
It had come as even more of a shock than he had anticipated, bonding her. He would never admit it to her, barely admitted it to himself, but he'd wanted her to convince him. He wanted to be close to her, no matter how wrong it was. He needed her.
He had tried to push her away; he had meant to, anyway, but he was still the man he'd been eleven years ago, when he stood on the edge of World's End. After all those years, after everything he'd been through, he was still the same wretched coward he'd always been. People never change, he reflected bitterly, they simply get better at concealing their flaws.
He had known that she truly cared for him. That much had been obvious. But his expectations were a far cry from what he had felt when he bonded her: this wasn't mere attachment or endearment. She loved him. Simply, genuinely, absolutely loved him. The feeling overwhelmed him utterly, and left him speechless with wonder.
She had stared at him with a puzzled look on her face, as if she couldn't quite figure out what she was getting from him. To be fair, he had no idea how he was feeling at the time. Numb and shocked, probably. The next part had left them both dazed. It was difficult to put into words how extraordinary it was, to be merged together so completely.
He'd had no visit from Moridin since Dumai's Wells, and Demandred hadn't shown himself in weeks now. He was worried about what they would do when they found out about Neya. In his mind, there was no doubt that they would find out - he was perfectly aware that they both had spies at the Black Tower. He simply wondered when. The fact that he'd had no one's life to be blackmailed with had been his only real advantage on the two Forsaken so far.
Mazrim knew he should remove the bond; he should have cut it off the moment Neya fell asleep. It was just so reassuring, to know she was there, so real, so close to him. To know that she cared. Being a Darkfriend, and an unwilling one at that, was truly a lonely path to follow, not to mention a hazardous occupation.
She was awakening slowly, he could feel it through the bond. He rolled on his back and she turned to wrap herself around him. "Are you alright?" she asked sleepily.
"Can't you tell?"
"Not really. If anything, the bond makes you even harder to read."
"What do you mean?" he asked uncertainly.
She was silent for a time, as if considering her answer. "I don't know. It's difficult to identify what you're feeling at any specific moment because there are so many different emotions all at once."
What was she saying? That he was mad? He couldn't be. He was protected. At least that was what Ishamael had told him. Could he really rely on the word of a dead madman? Or perhaps he'd been mad even before Ishamael came along. He could simply ask Neya to Delve his mind to find out. He would have, if he'd had the nerve. Instead he rolled over her until he was lying on top of her. "What about now? Can you tell what I'm feeling?" She chuckled. Then, just as things were getting interesting, someone knocked on the door. Since it was the middle of the night, it had to be important. Peace, it had better be important.
He got up, put on a robe and opened the door. For a second he thought no one was there, until he noticed the little girl staring up at him with large green eyes. It was the same girl who'd barrelled into him on the day he arrived; Ilawen, he thought her name was. She was also one of the two children Neya seemed to have taken under her wing after their father died at Dumai's Wells – and well before that, come to think of it. He crouched in front of her so as not to strain his neck. "What are you doing here, child?" he asked with all the patience he could muster.
"I can't sleep," she replied matter-of-factly. "But Karys is sleeping and I don't want to wake her. Can I stay here?" Without waiting for a reply, she pushed past him and stalked into the room. "Neya!" he heard her cry out a second later.
Standing up, Mazrim made his way back to the bed hesitantly. Surely Neya wasn't going to let the girl stay here all night, was she?
Neya had put on a robe and was sitting on the edge of the bed with Ilawen, the two of them whispering animatedly. Through the bond, he could feel Neya's concern and fondness for the child. How did she manage to care so much about so many people at once? She looked up at him and gave him an apologetic smile and a small shrug. Apparently, she was going to let the girl stay here. What was he supposed to do? It was his room!
"Can we play a game?" Ilawen asked enthusiastically.
Neya gazed up at him once more, the question plain on her face. "Fine," he said, feeling a little exasperated.
They all settled on the large bed with a deck of cards, but they didn't play for very long; after three games, the little girl began to nod off and Neya tucked her under the covers. She motioned for Mazrim to lie down next to her, cramming herself against him to leave enough space for Ilawen, who was sprawled on the left side of the bed. "Sorry about that," she said softly. "She has nightmares. They both do. That's why I sometimes spend part of the night with them."
"They shouldn't stay here. We should send them away, to an orphanage. This is no place for children, girls especially."
He felt Neya stiffen against him and received a spike of something… dangerous… through the bond. "What's that supposed to mean? What does the fact that they're girls have to do with anything? They've been here longer than you have, and they do their share of chores. Karys has even taken up the sword and trains with Saeric, too. Do you consider all women to be useless?" she asked him sharply.
Mazrim stared at the ceiling as she scolded him, feeling more baffled by the second. He hadn't said anything like that! Carefully, he turned on his side to face her as she finished speaking. She was looking at him fiercely, as if daring him to even answer. He cleared his throat. "I never said women were useless," he said, a little defensively. "I'm Saldaean, for crying out loud, I know better than anyone that a woman is as capable as any man. And I know first-hand that you're not useless. But this is a place for male channelers, not for little girls. Neya, I'm building an army of lethal weapons to be used in the Last Battle. Surely you can see why it's inappropriate for them to be here. I shouldn't have allowed families to settle here in the first place. That was a mistake. It's too late to take it back now, I know," he went on hastily when her eyes flashed, "but after what happened with Proctor, it should have been clear that this was a bad idea." He paused for a moment, inhaling deeply. "Neya, I know you care for them, but this is no place for a child to grow up, especially if their parents are not around," he told her quietly.
She was silent for a long time, and the bond was full of anger and frustration. He couldn't say if the anger was directed at him. "I am their parent," Neya said eventually. "For all intents and purposes, I am. They have no one else, and I won't have them sent to some orphanage where the Light knows what will happen to them. You can't send them away, Mazrim. Their father died for the Black Tower. They have as much right to be here as anyone else."
"Fine, they can stay here," he said with a resigned sigh. Peace, he couldn't refuse her anything, could he? "But I won't have them sleeping in my bed every flaming night." Neya snuggled closer to him without speaking. There was no need; he could tell exactly how she felt. The bond sent him waves of relief and – there it was again, that incredible, impossible love. What was he going to do about that?
Atal made his way briskly toward M'Hael's house – it was really more of a mansion now, almost a palace – when Karys approached him timidly. "Excuse me, Asha'man?"
Atal gave her a bright smile. "Hey there. What's going on?"
"Have you seen my sister?"
"Nope, sorry, love. Have you asked Neya? She's usually with her."
The girl shook her head dejectedly. "I went to Neya's room but she's not there. I don't know where they are."
"Well, Neya's probably with M'Hael." She spent a lot of time there, these days, even more than usual. He had dismissed the rumour that they were lovers, at first, but Taim had certainly changed since they came back from Dumai's Wells. The man was a puzzle. "I'm going there right now. Care to join me?" he asked the girl.
She nodded gratefully. "Yes, thank you."
It was a short walk. Atal knocked on the door and waited. They heard rapid footsteps coming their way and the door flew open. It was Ilawen, he realised with faint surprise. "Karys! Come quick, there's waffles! I was going to bring you some but Neya said I should wash up first," the girl said with a grimace.
Both sisters ran inside and M'Hael walked to the door. "Asha'man," the Saldaean greeted him perfunctorily. It still flustered him slightly to see the older man. Atal had been one the first man to begin training at the Black Tower, back when it had been known only as the farm, and he had also been one of the first to be raised to the highest rank. Full of his newly acquired authority, he had felt almost invincible, like nothing could stop him.
He had been on guard duty that night, keeping watch on the entrance. The task was left to lesser Soldiers during the day, but M'Hael preferred an Asha'man to be present at night, the only time when an attack could possibly make any sense, although Atal couldn't see how anyone would be stupid enough to launch an assault on a place full of channelers. At the time, M'Hael seemed to think Aes Sedai would come barging in at any moment. Taim had appeared sometime before dawn, looking thoughtful. He stood there beside Atal for a long time without speaking; he wasn't a man to make small talk and Atal knew that – he'd already tried to engage in conversation before, to no avail. So Atal waited. "I need you to do something for me, Mishraile." M'Hael never called anyone by their first names – except Neya, for some reason. It was surprising enough that he'd even used his name at all. He usually stuck to their rank. "I need you to spy on Neya. I think she's experimenting on something I've expressly forbidden her to experiment on."
It seemed simple enough. Atal agreed without bothering to ask what the forbidden experiment entailed. He would find out soon enough. On a whim, he had turned toward M'Hael and kissed him full on the mouth. He'd been told before that he should think more before he acted, that he should ponder the consequences of his actions. He often wondered how anyone ever achieved anything, thinking so much. He preferred to act and deal with the aftermath. He felt M'Hael stiffen, obviously caught off guard, but he pushed Atal away a moment later, not unkindly. "I think you're mistaking me," he said simply. Well, Atal thought, it was an honest mistake. The man was absolutely unreadable. Atal wouldn't have known if he'd never tried. It was a bit awkward after that, although M'Hael didn't make a fuss – he never did. It was done and forgotten already. "Have you considered Lothbrok?" Taim asked a moment later. "I think you might find what you're looking for there."
Trygg Lothbrok was one of the newest recruits, a stocky man in his early thirties with an impressive beard. As it turned out, M'Hael was right about the man. Atal briefly wondered how Taim could possibly know, but he didn't let it bother him. The man seemed to know everything that happened within the grounds, and most of what was going on in the world besides.
"A man arrived at the front gate half an hour ago, demanding to see you," Atal told M'Hael now. "He looked like something the cat dragged in, so we thought it better to have him at least take a bath first." He hesitated. M'Hael was studying him impassively, waiting for him to go on. "He says his name is Logain Ablar," Atal went on eventually. He would have dismissed him as insane and not bothered Taim with this at all, but the man appeared lucid enough, and was quite stubborn besides.
M'Hael frowned slightly at that. "Can he channel?"
Atal nodded. "Aye. He's strong, too, stronger than Narishma." At least as strong as M'Hael himself, as far as Atal could tell, but he wasn't about to say it out loud.
"Well then, it can't be Ablar. The man was severed months ago," Taim said dismissively.
"I know, but… He claims he's been Healed, M'Hael. By an Aes Sedai."
Taim grimaced slightly. "Brilliant. He's not a liar, he's a madman. Just what I needed," he muttered. Atal saw him check the small vial he kept in his coat pocket and shuddered involuntarily. Poison. "Bring him here," M'Hael ordered him eventually. He paused briefly as the cries of the girls having breakfast in the nearby room reached them. "In an hour," he added with a resigned sigh.