It wasn't until late evening that Neya could finally afford to take a break. She found Mintel near the well, smoking his pipe and reading in the light of a single candle. "You'll ruin what's left of your eyesight, reading like that," she told him with mock sternness. They spoke a mix of languages when addressing each other – the Common Tongue, the Sharan dialect, isleh, the Old Tongue. Neya wanted to progress in the Sharan dialect quickly because, ultimately, she thought it best for the Ayyad to learn that language. The Common Tongue was rarely used in these parts. Foreigners had never been welcome in Shara. The Aiel were tolerated near the Waste border, but only long enough for them to trade their goods.

Mintel grinned at her, showing his six remaining teeth. "There's not much left to ruin. You look like you have questions, child."

"I always have questions," she said brightly. "Who is Shendla?" The old man chuckled softly. "What? What's funny?"

"She is not his lover, if that is what you wish to know," he said with an amused chortle.

Neya frowned at him. "That was not specifically what I wanted to know, no. Why should I care if she's his lover or not?" Her eyes widened in sudden realisation. "Mintel!" she said, truly offended now. "Are you out of your mind? Light burn you, I don't care about him!" she told him fiercely. It wasn't the first time the abrishi had made such allusions, and Neya had only been here for a few days. Why would he ever think that? "I'm just curious about her, that's all. She spent her whole time here staring at me, and I'd like to know why."

"It's a shame, you would be good for him," Mintel said with yet another guffaw when he saw her outraged stare. He raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Alright, alright. Shendla is a scholar with great knowledge of the history of our land. She is in charge of the archives at the Library."

"Why would Bao need to keep a librarian at his side?"

"I believe he is trying to find a specific artefact, or perhaps several artefacts, and they are working together to localise them," Mintel replied.

"What kind of artefact?" It had to be an angreal or a ter'angreal, most likely, although why Demandred thought he could find anything useful in this Light-forsaken land was beyond her.

"I'm not sure. It seems he has managed to acquire part of it months ago, just before the Revolt, but he appeared quite… disappointed… when he found it." The hesitation seemed to imply that Bao had been enraged rather than disappointed. But what kind of artefact could be separated into several pieces?

"What was it, the part he found?" Mintel shook his head. He didn't know. "What happened exactly? Why was there a rebellion?"

"Not just a rebellion, a revolution," Mintel corrected her. "Bao wished to penetrate inside the Grand Blessed Citadel to obtain this object. We accompanied him to Kigali, the northernmost city on the side of the Aiel Waste. The mass execution was scheduled at noon that day. Fourteen slaves were to be hanged."

"Why? Were they criminals?"

The old man shook his head. "Not criminals. Slaves." He looked up at her with a sad smile. "There is much you do not yet know about our customs, mala." She wasn't sure what the word meant in isleh, but in the Old Tongue, it would translate to something like 'daughter', with a denotation of importance. It was probably a term used by the abrishi toward younger people, since he called the boys – as well as Bao – either 'son' or 'child' or their Ancient equivalents. "Mass executions take place – or they did, before Bao outlawed them – on the Feast of All Hallowed Ancestors. They served as a reminder to the slaves that they must not attempt to rise against the people who own them."

Neya still had trouble coming to terms with slavery and all it entailed. It was a concept she had never been confronted with before, and one she could not comprehend. Demandred may be what he was, but she supported his decision to render it illegal. "Are you saying," she asked Mintel with mounting horror, "that every year, they simply picked some slaves at random and hanged them just for show?"

Mintel sighed deeply. "Yes. The guards would choose seven women and seven men, indiscriminately, and all the other slaves present in the area would be assembled to witness the hanging. Bao reacted in the same repulsed manner when he found out, you know. You and he are not as dissimilar as you seem to think, mala," he went on idly.

She let that last remark slide. Light, but the old man could be stubborn. "But why?" she asked instead. "Were there many attempts at rebellion, that they would need to remind them every year?"

"Only one, six hundred years ago, as far as I know. Shendla may be able to tell you more."

Only one attempt in six centuries, and they still worried about an uprising. Well, in the end, it seemed they had gotten one. "I assume Bao freed the slaves and prevented their execution, somehow," she said.

Mintel nodded. "Bao was beside himself when he finally came out of the Citadel. He saw the gallows, blasted them apart, killed the executioner and the guards, thus revealing his ability to channel to all. The slaves… They were waiting for this," the abrishi went on. "For something like this. It is mentioned in the Prophecies. 'There will come a man who will sow chaos and dissension, and sever all bonds, breaking all men free of fate's chains.'"

"Prophecies?" Neya repeated with a frown. "You mean the Prophecies of the Dragon?"

The old man shook his head. "Our prophecies are not yours, ulikar." That meant 'outsider', Neya knew. It was one of the first words of the isleh language she had picked up since her arrival, mainly because Kal used it so often to address her. It was the first time Mintel had employed it, however. "But if you want to learn more, you must ask Shendla. It is her… area of expertise."

"And the female Ayyad? What's their part in all this?" Neya asked. If Shendla wasn't one of them, Neya had yet to meet one, which often caused her to wonder why Bao had bothered to give her the necklace ter'angreal that concealed her ability to channel.

"The Revolt put the higher spheres in turmoil. Bao declared all slaves freed, men and women and children, and they all turned against their former masters. It was bloody. Bao put an end to the carnage after a few weeks by uniting both sides, the Freed on one hand and the leaders of our nation, the female Ayyad, on the other."

"The Ayyad are leaders of Shara? I thought it was the… Sh'botay?" She wasn't sure of the name, or title, or whatever it was.

Mintel barked a rough laugh. "They are purely ornamental, the Sh'botay and his consort, or the Sh'boan and hers. The female Ayyad rule over Shara as surely as the sun rises in the east. Have you not wondered why the Sh'botay or Sh'boan dies after seven years of reign?"

"The Will of the Pattern?" She'd heard or read that somewhere. "But it makes much more sense that the Ayyad orchestrate it," she granted. "But why? And why have they suddenly removed them altogether?" The latest Sh'botay and his consort had vanished weeks ago.

"I do not believe it was the work of the Ayyad. Strange things are happening. The Dragon has been Reborn in the West, the Wyld has been revealed in the East. The Prophecies are becoming reality. Both ours and yours, it seems," he added thoughtfully.

Neya chewed on that for a long time. She wondered if she could lay her hands on these Sharan prophecies somehow. Demandred was clearly using them to his advantage, manipulating the Sharans into believing he was their… Wyld. Was he supposed to be their saviour, or something like that?

Light. Rand probably had no idea where Demandred had established himself, and here he was, gathering an entire nation to fight for the Shadow in the Last Battle. Neya had to warn him somehow, or disrupt Demandred's plans, if she could.

"Mintel, what happens to the channelers who are not born of the Ayyad?" she asked abruptly. She had almost forgotten about that.

"The women are brought to the female Ayyad, to serve them. They are not considered well-bred, you see, so they cannot be allowed to channel or to hold high offices, unlike the other Ayyad. It is believed that they are cursed." Pretty much what she'd expected. Sharans held to some truly barbaric beliefs. She braced herself for the rest. "The males are severed and executed on sight by the authorities, although it rarely comes to that."

"Why is that?" she asked with a scowl.

"Family and friends who discover a male channeler among them will usually take care of the matter themselves." She gaped at that. It was even worse than she had thought. "It is customary," the old man went on conversationally. "It is considered bad luck and worse to be acquainted with a male channeler in any way. People will therefore dispose of these poor souls swiftly and as discreetly as possible."

Neya was shaking her head in disbelief. Then again, she thought, is the Red Ajah's way preferable? The men are stilled, not killed, but is it really a kinder fate? She thought of Mazrim and his little vials of poison. A mercy, he had told her. Just because the Sharan way was not the one she was used to, meant it was worse. Maybe there simply was no good or bad way to deal with this.