You have got to be kidding me, Neya thought disbelievingly. Once again, she found herself at the mercy of one of the Forsaken. Honestly, it was becoming tiresome.
The knot of emotions that was Mazrim had receded to a faint impression in the back of her mind. She must have travelled a long distance for him to feel so far away. Oddly, she thought he was somewhere ahead of her, when she'd just turned her back on him. She had no idea which way was which, however. As far as she knew, she could be in the Blight or in flaming Seanchan.
Neya considered the room she'd just walked into. It was vast and very white, and decorated with tasteful furniture and a few exotic-looking plants. There was a large balcony in front of her, with colourful drapes hanging in the arched doorway leading outside. It seemed to be daytime, although she couldn't see the sun; she must have travelled very far indeed. She didn't dare even turn around to get a better impression of the rest of the room. He'd said not to move, so she didn't move. She knew better than to disobey one of the Forsaken, especially Demandred.
Demandred, the one who twists the blade. Of all the Forsaken, he was the one who scared her the most. Elan used to say he was driven by his hate of Lews Therin and that nothing would make him deviate from his course once he had his mind set. He was meticulous, austere, and valued loyalty and honour above all, although his concept of honour was his very own.
At least she hadn't ended up with Graendal. Demandred was likely more dangerous, but Jay said he only used Compulsion as a last resort, unlike Graendal. Neya might retain her ability to think for herself, if she was careful.
The Forsaken joined her only moments later. Neya felt Mazrim rush back in her mind as the gateway opened behind her. The bond was a tangle of confusion and cold rage. Of course, from the way she'd reacted upon spotting Demandred, Mazrim might assume she was serving him. The fact that Demandred was there in the first place seemed to indicate Mazrim himself was a Darkfriend, or at least a puppet to the Forsaken. Jay had been right. They had gotten to him after all. Neya wondered how she hadn't figured it out, with the bond they shared. Then again, Mazrim's mind was ever a maze of feelings and emotions. Neya hadn't made much progress in reading it in the few days since he'd bonded her.
Knowing the gateway would close in an instant, Neya concentrated on sending positive emotions through the bond. It was gone again only a second later. She hoped he had caught the gist of it.
Abruptly, it dawned on her that she was alone in a room with a complete stranger and wearing no clothes at all. She did her best to cover herself with her hands and felt herself blush as Demandred came into view, although he kept his eyes on hers. The fact that he was stunningly handsome somehow made it even worse. She had recognised him right away, thanks to the photograph on Elan's copy of Barid Bel Medar's biography. He hadn't changed since the photograph was taken, thousands of years ago.
Neya lowered her eyes to fix her feet, feeling self-conscious.
"You are Neya al'Kane," Demandred said matter-of-factly. She nodded tersely. "Do you know who I am?" She nodded again. "Good. You are in the land known as Shara, if you were wondering." Shara? The land beyond the Aiel Waste? She knew absolutely nothing of it, besides the obviously exaggerated facts gleaned in Jain Farstrider's adventures. Demandred cupped her chin in his hand and lifted her head until she was looking at his face. "You will look me in the eyes, girl. The only people here who keep their eyes on the floor are slaves, and as it happens, I have just abolished slavery. You will call me Bao. Sharans do not bother with second or third names or other frivolities. Is that clear?" he asked softly. She nodded once more. "Speak up, girl."
"Yes, it is clear, Bao," she muttered.
It was all she could do to meet his eyes. They were like stones; his face was so still he could have been a statue. He released his grip on her. "Good," he said again. "I have brought you here for a reason. You will be in charge of the male Ayyad." Neya frowned in confusion. He had brought her here for a specific reason? She had assumed she was serving as leverage to insure Mazrim's continued obedience or loyalty, or both. And what in the Pit of Doom was an Ayyad? Suddenly, she realised that the Forsaken hadn't even bothered to shield her. Not that she was about to try anything, of course. She knew very little that wasn't related to Healing. "They are what the Sharans call male channelers. They will be taught to channel properly in a few weeks. What I need from you now is to teach them to be… human." Her frown deepened. What was he talking about? "The Sharans are a harsh people. They have taken drastic measures to insure that male channelers would cause no trouble. They used them for breeding purposes," he explained flatly, and her face must have changed at that. "Yes, you heard correctly. They were paired with the female Ayyad, the equivalent of those so-called Aes Sedai of yours, to engender more channelers. Then, as they reached their twenty-first year, if the madness had not taken them yet, they were executed. In the meantime, they were kept in small enclosed villages, isolated from the outside world, and raised like cattle for the slaughter. None of them can read and few can even talk properly. They behave like animals." He was looking at her intensely. "I have freed them, and they have chosen to pledge their lives to me in return, but they need to be taught how to be, before they can be taught anything else."
"But… why me? You do know I'm not a Darkfriend, don't you?" she asked in a puzzled voice.
"Evidently. I am aware of your… history… with some of the other Chosen as well. But you have experience, from your time spent at the Black Tower. And you know… al'Thor." The pause before Rand's name was almost imperceptible, but it had been there. "You come from the same village. I intend to make use of that knowledge."
Light, how much had Mazrim told him? "And what makes you think I will do what you ask? That I won't try to sabotage whatever you're planning?" she asked defiantly. She would be damned if she let herself be trodden on once more without putting up a fight.
The man would have made even Lan Mandragoran look jolly. Light, but he was cold. "My people in Cairhien and at the Black Tower tell me you are a Healer. Unless you are like Semirhage, and I do not think you are, that means you care about other people. When you see the Ayyad, I doubt you will even consider sabotage. They are not Friends of the Dark, and they genuinely need you." He seemed incredibly earnest, for all his stone-cold attitude and even worse reputation. And he had a point; it wasn't like Neya to leave innocent people to their fate without at least trying to help. Curse the bloody man, he knew exactly what he was doing by bringing her here.
"Alright, fine," she said with an exasperated gesture of her hands. What else could she do? "Just take me to them and I'll do what I can. Do they even speak the Common Tongue, or the Old Tongue? I don't know the first thing about this flaming place."
"You will not be alone. I have put someone else in charge while I was considering the right person for the task. His name is Mintel. He will assist you, and teach you what you need to know about Shara and its customs. He is fluent in a dozen languages, including the Common Tongue. It will not be a problem as far as the Ayyad are concerned, however. As I said earlier, most of them cannot even speak. You may teach them the Common Tongue if it is more convenient." He scowled slightly. "You will not use that language again."
That language? But he just said she could teach it to them! "I'm not following," she said slowly.
"Do not cuss, girl," he said with faint exasperation.
Oh, that language. "My apologies. Bao, may I have something to wear before you send me to the male channelers who don't know how to behave?" she asked wryly before cursing herself for a suicidal fool. Burn her, she had to watch her tongue around the man.
He stalked away without a word and came back with a plain white dress. Ugh, not a dress, she thought sourly. It had to be white, too. The colour reminded her too much of Lanfear. "Don't you have anything else, by any chance? Some breeches, perhaps?"
"Get dressed, girl. We leave in a minute." Reluctantly, she put on the dress. Demandred turned politely around as she did so, as if he hadn't been watching her for minutes when she was stark naked.
"Do you know how to mask your ability to channel from other female channelers?" he asked when she was decent.
"Um… no. I didn't even know I could do that." That was the simple truth.
"I thought not. You have not received any formal training, have you?"
She shook her head. "Formal or informal, I have no training whatsoever. I've taught myself a few things, but besides Healing, there's not much I can do," she admitted. Then berated herself for telling him that.
Demandred walked away once more and she heard him rummage somewhere on the other side of the room. She still hadn't seen the rest of it. "Lift your hair up," he commanded from behind her. She complied without hesitation and felt him place a necklace around her neck. It was heavy. When he was done, she looked down at the piece of jewellery. It was a large, intricately carved necklace of solid gold sprinkled with tiny colourful gems. It had to be gold, judging from the weight. The pattern represented exotic flowers. It was beautiful, if utterly unpractical. She scowled at the Forsaken questioningly when he planted himself in front of her once more. "It is a ter'angreal, an artefact made during the Collapse. You must not remove it under any circumstances. It will conceal your ability to channel from the female Ayyad," he explained. "My alliance with them is… tenuous. It is a work in progress."
Why was he telling her all that? Why did he appear so confident that she would do everything he asked? "Aren't you going to shield me?" she asked instead.
He arched an eyebrow. "Not unless you give me a reason to. I will trust you until you prove yourself unworthy of my trust, if you should ever be foolish enough to do that. I strongly suggest that you do not try my patience." His voice was a bare whisper as he finished. He seemed to radiate danger.
"I wouldn't dream of it," she assured him. She would sooner fight a pack of lions with her bare hands than cross Demandred. He nodded almost imperceptibly and, without another word, he opened a new gateway.