Kal was still considering whether he should pretend to be sick to avoid his chores when the new bloke finally arrived. Kal was skilled in many areas, but teaching was clearly not one of them, and Neya seemed to take a perverse pleasure in appointing him to dispense lessons to the younger kids. She claimed it would teach him to be more patient.

Well, Kal didn't want to be patient. He had spent his entire existence working for the benefit of others, and he was determined to enjoy what life he had left. He could just leave, of course – Bao claimed they were free to go at any time – but he couldn't just leave Abrazo behind, and taking him along would be a hindrance at best. In short, he was stuck here. For the time being, anyway.

The newcomer was not much taller than Kalayaan himself, although much more muscular, which was quite obvious since he was shirtless. His skin was a lighter shade than Kal's, but his hair was surprisingly pale. He wore his beard in two thick, knotted braids hanging down from either cheek. He appeared to be in his thirties.

The tattoos on his forearms marked him as a first-generation slave. People who were born into slavery didn't get these tattoos; they weren't considered a flight risk or potential troublemakers. The tattoos on his back indicated that he'd been owned by officials of the government. If he'd been the property of a noble, his chest would have been tattooed instead.

"You're Torn?" Kal asked him in a bored voice.

The older man grinned widely. "Aye. I was told to find Neya?"

Kal nodded tersely. "I'll take you to her."

They made their way through the tiny Ayyad encampment, which was part of the much larger camp the Freed had set across the valley. More former slaves still arrived every day, from all over the land. News did not travel fast in these parts. Likely, some areas weren't yet aware of the abrupt disappearance of the Sh'botay, or even of the Revolt, although it had taken place months ago. Already, there were thousands of people gathered here, men and women, and not a few children.

"I didn't catch your name, Ayyad," Torn said after a time of walking in silence.

"Kalayaan," he muttered in reply. He hated small talk and people who talked just to make conversation.

"Like the main character in that children's book, Wild Tales?"

Now that was unusual. Few of the Freed could read, except for those whose occupation had required it. "Yes, that's where I got the inspiration," he said. "Have you read it?"

"Yeah, I like to read when I can, even though I'm a slow reader," Torn admitted.

Slow or not, that was better than most people Kal knew. "I've got a few books. We could trade, if you have any."

"That'd be nice. I've been re-reading the same ones for the past fifteen years or so. It'd be good to have some new material. Books ain't easy to come by," he said sadly.

"Tell me about it," Kal concurred with a sigh. The things he'd had to do for these books… But they had been worth the trouble. Books allowed him to escape his shitty life whenever he wanted – or needed – to. "How's it going with the Freed?" he found himself asking. "Are they settling in?"

Torn snorted. "It's a flaming mess, let me tell you. Most of them can't adjust."

"Adjust to what?" Kal asked with a frown.

"Freedom," Torn explained. "The ones who were enslaved later in life have no problem whatsoever. Some of those have departed already, gone the moment Bao told them they were free to go. But the others, those who were born into slavery…" He trailed off with a shrug. "They've never known anything else. It's almost as though they're afraid to be their own person, or think for themselves. Most of them still ask permission to even go to the bloody latrines," he went on with a grimace.

"Do you think Bao made a mistake in releasing them?" Kal asked.

"Not at all, not at all," Torn said. "It will take time, that's for sure, but it was the right thing to do. We're centuries behind, compared to the bloody Westlands," he stated. "Bao will propel us forward in no time, though, see if he don't."

Just when he'd started to like the other man, he proved to be just another sheep mindlessly praising the mighty Bao. What was wrong with these people? No ulikar should have the right to rule in Shara, and it was ludicrous to believe Bao could be the Wyld. Was Kal the only one who saw him for what he truly was? Bao was just another petty tyrant, a power-hungry, ambitious, greedy man intent on preying on the weak and ignorant. He was manipulative, deceiving, and he thought too highly of himself. Of course, considering the way everyone behaved around him, it was no wonder Bao believed himself Kongsidi made flesh. At least Neya seemed aware of the problem. He wasn't sure what they could do about it, however. Even if they managed to convince other people that he had to be removed, Bao was a dangerous man, and that was without even taking his channeling abilities into account.

Torn appeared to notice his sudden silence. "You don't like him much, do you?" Kal let out a noncommittal grunt. "He's not all that bad, really, although not what I expected, I'll admit. You'd think the saviour of our people would be one of our people, wouldn't you?" He chuckled quietly. "And he's so flaming serious."

"I don't trust people who have no sense of humour," Kal muttered. One of his caretakers had been such a man. Kal still had nightmares involving him.

"Nor should you," Torn said wisely. "But I think he has one, actually. He seems able to comprehend jokes, in any case. He just doesn't react to them. Well, he must have a lot on his mind, what with being the flaming Wyld and dealing with bloody Galbrait, among other things."

"He's not the Wyld yet," Kal pointed out. He was convinced that the Revolt had been an accident, a chance happening. Bao had been at the right place, at the right moment. It didn't mean anything. No ulikar could hope to accomplish the rest of the Prophecies. Bao would never come out of the Hearttomb alive. No one ever did.

"True. He will be, though. Soon enough." He laughed when he saw Kal's expression. "I used to think like you. But Shendla… Do you know her?" Kal nodded. He had met her on a few occasions, although they had never actually talked. "She's a friend of mine. We've known each other a long time. I think she's right about him. He really is the one."

As far as Kal could tell, Shendla was enthralled by Bao and couldn't be trusted. He wasn't about to say that to Torn, however, not if she was his 'friend', so he decided to change the subject. "You don't behave like a slave," Kal told him.

"Well, I wasn't born one." He showed off his tattooed arms for emphasis. "I was a mercenary, working along the coast." 'The coast' usually referred to the lands in the Far East, near the Morenal Ocean. The people who lived there were part of Shara in name only; Kal doubted any of them knew the name of the Sh'botay. At least, that was what Mintel said. The abrishi seemed to have travelled a lot in his younger years. In any case, there was always fighting in those parts, and therefore plenty of work to be found for mercenaries. "I was enslaved four years ago, by some flaming noble who decided to take an interest in one of the silver mines over there. He brought a whole bloody army with him, the blasted son of a camel. Killed most everyone in our band, then sold the rest of us off to an acquaintance of his in Kigali. Made me work as a flaming porter at the Citadel. Me, a porter!" he said, spitting on the ground. That would explain why he approved of Bao's actions. The Citadel had been the first target of the Revolt.

"Why did Bao send you to us, exactly?" Neya had received a message earlier this morning, but all it said was to expect a former slave named Torn.

"Shendla sent me, actually. She wants me to keep an eye on things. She's… um… intrigued by the girl, the other ulikar," he replied carefully.

Why would Shendla send someone to spy on them? They weren't doing anything out of the ordinary. They spent most of their time giving lessons to the younger Ayyad. No one here was involved in matters of politics or anything even remotely interesting. Not for the first time, Kal wondered why Neya was here at all. Bao could have appointed anyone in her stead, any Sharan. Not that she bothered Kal; she was good at what she did, he had to give her that, and she was a fast learner. She was already fluent in their dialect and Mintel was teaching her isleh. But why bring someone from the other side of the world, someone so young and inexperienced? Not to mention that she clearly didn't think much of Bao. It simply didn't make sense. Then again, ulikar rarely made sense.

They were nearing her tent when Neya came out of it. "Kal! I was looking for you. Aren't you supposed to be with your group?" she asked him with an arched eyebrow.

"I was just on my way there, but then this one arrived," he said, cocking his head toward Torn. "That's the man we were told to expect."

Neya smiled at the former mercenary. "I'm Neya," she introduced herself, thrusting her hand forward in that odd manner she had. Torn looked at it in bewilderment. "Oh, sorry. Habit," Neya explained, letting her hand drop. "Why are you here? The message didn't say."

"I'm just here to help, however I can," he replied smoothly. "Shendla feels that you might be a little overwhelmed, since it's just the three of you to look after the whole bloody lot of them."

Neya frowned at him. "Shendla sent you? Does Bao know about it?"

Torn shrugged. "Probably. I didn't enquire."

Neya studied him a moment longer before she spoke again. "Can you read?" Torn nodded. "Then we'll split them into another group and you can teach them. I assume you can use that sword as well?" she asked, pointing at the large double-edged sword he carried on his back. Torn nodded once more. "Good. I need someone to practice with, and we can start teaching the boys as well," she said with a delighted grin. "I didn't know you were going to stay, however. We'll have to find a tent to accommodate you."

"He can stay in mine," Kal blurted out. What was wrong with him? He treasured the peace and quiet of his tent, and now he was inviting someone to share it with him? Even Abe didn't sleep there! "I mean," he went on quickly, "until we find somewhere else for you to sleep."

Neya snorted. "How generous of you," she said sweetly. "It's just for a day or two," she added with an apologetic smile in Torn's direction.

"I've slept in worse conditions," he assured her.

"I'll take your group," Neya told Kal with a resigned sigh. "Just show him around and help him settle down, will you?" Without waiting for an answer, she stalked away to attend to her lesson.

"Her accent is decidedly odd," Torn pointed out, "but she's doing well. I remember Bao during his first weeks here," he went on with a chuckle. "I could barely make out the bloody words coming out of him."

"You've known him since he first came to Shara?" Kal asked in surprise. "I thought you were at the Citadel."

"Oh no, no. I was a slave only for a few months, thank Kongsidi. Shendla works in the Library, see? It's part of the Citadel. She set me free when she found out I was there. I hadn't seen her in years, but she owed me."

"She bought your freedom?" How could she possibly afford that? Buying a slave's freedom cost even more than the slave himself, because you had to pay extra for the free labour no one would benefit from ever again. Only the wealthiest members of the affluent classes could afford that, as far as Kal knew, and even when they could afford it, they rarely bothered.

"She made some kind of deal with my owner," Torn explained. "At least, that's what she told me when I asked. The man's rotting corpse was found a few days later in the canal," he went on conversationally. So, Kal thought, the woman is more dangerous than she appears. No wonder Bao keeps her around. "Anyway, we were both going to the Capital and we met Mintel and Bao along the way. He had just arrived, though I'm not sure how he got here exactly. He said he'd been traded near the western border, but he doesn't look like a man who'd let himself be taken, even by flaming Aiel. Then again, why would anyone pretend to be a bloody slave?" he asked incredulously.

"I don't know, but he's clearly up to something, and I'm not talking about the Prophecies. There's something off about the man, I'm telling you," Kal said. "I don't like it."

Torn laughed it off. "Don't overthink it, man. He's an ulikar and a flaming channeler. He's not bloody likely to be sane." He stopped abruptly, glancing at Kal. "Ahem… Sorry about that." Kal shrugged unconcernedly. He knew the fate that awaited him. He had made his peace with it a long time ago. Torn went on quickly, in an attempt to shoo the awkward moment. "Anyway, what's the worst thing that could happen?"