Moridin dismissed Cyndane with a perfunctory flick of his wrist. He would have no further use of her this day. She was only useful as a display of his authority to the other Chosen – Moridin could have announced himself the news of al'Thor's plan, but a reminder of his position was occasionally necessary. Some of his subordinates appeared eager to be rid of him – as was expected of them. Ambition was a necessary trait to survive in their... line of work.
There was something different about Demandred, Moridin had noticed. His time in Shara had changed him, and it became more apparent each time they met. He was still his sombre, imperious self, but he seemed oddly protective of the primitive Eastlanders he was manipulating. Moridin had only the vaguest idea what Demandred's plan was. He hadn't really bothered to look into it, and he had very few spies in Shara – all of them hastily acquired once he'd realised where his old friend had established himself.
Moridin was not worried, however. If any of the Chosen did manage to come up with something useful for the battle to come, it was Demandred.
He did not understand why Demandred had suddenly removed Neya from the Black Tower, but it appeared to be a good move. It was about time Taim began creating new Dreadlords – willing or unwilling ones, it mattered little to Moridin. The Saldaean was well-established in his position of leadership, and Moridin didn't think that Logain Ablar would prove to be an obstacle in the long term. He was merely a minor disturbance.
They could use a few more Chosen as well as Dreadlords, but such power was not granted lightly by the Great Lord of the Dark. No one of this barbaric Age had yet been Chosen – no one truly deserved it. And yet they needed to bolster their ranks. Taim seemed an obvious candidate, despite his unwillingness to serve the Shadow. Still, the man had proved weak before; he was at his weakest now. He wouldn't be able to resist the offer, not now that Neya's life hung in the balance, and the man was intelligent enough to know that Moridin had other ways to persuade him. He was loath to threaten innocent children, but they were running out of time. He would do what had to be done – or rather, have someone else do it. Being Nae'blis did have its perks.
Moridin knew that Demandred kept a close watch on Neya, but also that the girl was free to come and go as she pleased. She'd apparently been appointed as caretaker to the creatures that passed for male channelers in Shara. Moridin couldn't figure out why. Neya had experience with male channelers, yes, but she knew nothing of the land and its people – or channeling itself, for that matter. She had very little use that Moridin could see, in truth, beyond her Healing abilities. Yet there was always a good reason behind Demandred's actions, although it was rarely obvious to anyone but him. He was as secretive now as he'd ever been.
Demandred didn't know as much about Neya as he believed, of that Moridin was certain – he had been the Chosen's primary source of information, after all. Demandred knew that Neya had been captured by Moridin's previous incarnation, but not the extent of it, not quite. He knew about her brief time in Lanfear's dungeons. He also knew about Asmodean, about her and Taim – but every Chosen knew of that. They all had spies among the Aiel and at the Black Tower.
Moridin had not forbidden harm to come to Neya, or given orders for her life or death; in fact, he had made no mention of her at all. Demandred was the only one who'd connected the dots and realised she might be more important than she appeared – she had already survived two of the Chosen, and she had tamed Asmodean and kept him exactly where al'Thor wanted him: in the Light. Her relationship with Taim, that the others had dismissed as inconsequential, had retained all of Demandred's attention. Moridin wondered if the man suspected the truth, and if that was why he had decided to keep the girl for himself.
Then again, Moridin had learned that where Neya was concerned… Well, she was what she was. It was difficult to determine why anything happened to her – or around her.
He missed her a bit, he had to admit. She'd been part of his life for quite a while – a fleck of time in his absurdly long existence, yes, but she had saved his life twice, and that had left a mark, though not a physical one. Love might be a strong word for what he felt toward her; he was simply fond of her. He'd hate for anything to happen to her, although he suspected she would be fine, at least until the Last Battle. She had a role to play, a significant one, and Moridin was curious to know what it was. He had been waiting to find out for years.
Neya couldn't feel anything coming from Mazrim through the bond. She didn't think it was the distance; she was afraid that he was masking his emotions from her on purpose. That didn't bode well, although she had to consider the fact that he hadn't severed their bond. It wasn't any use to him, so it had to mean something.
She tried to send him positive emotions, but there was no telling if he felt them or not. She did that every day in the beginning, but after a while it felt more and more pointless. He never returned anything. She gave up after a few weeks. She was on her own; he wouldn't come to her rescue. Nobody would. Nobody ever did.
Bao visited only occasionally, and he never stayed more than a few minutes, which suited her just fine. Everything was working out incredibly well, considering what they'd begun with. Most of the Ayyad progressed slowly but steadily, and a handful proved to be above average. Between sword practice and lessons and chores, time flew by.
Three weeks after his first visit, Bao made another appearance. He seemed irate, an unusual display of emotion from him, and he was alone, this time. He marched right up to Neya and commanded her to follow him in her tent. "What do you know of al'Thor's plan to cleanse saidin?" he demanded before Neya was fully settled on the ground.
She stared up at him in confusion. "Cleanse saidin? Of the… taint?" Bao nodded tersely. What was he going on about? "He never said anything about that. Is it even possible?" she asked sceptically.
Bao scowled darkly. "It should not be. He intends to use the Choedan Kal, with the assistance of a female channeler."
He had lost her completely. Choedan Kal? What in the Pit of Doom was that? "And what exactly am I supposed to do about it?" Neya asked faintly.
"Do you know who might assist him in this senseless task?"
"No, I don't. How would I know?" She hadn't heard from Rand in weeks. "Bao, he never told me anything about his plans or intentions. Except for the Black Tower, obviously," she amended. "Besides, I have no idea what a… Choedan Kal is," she added.
Bao fixed his angry eyes on her for a long time, his mouth set in a tight line. She did her best not to shudder or drop her gaze and almost succeeded. "Darkness within!" she heard him mutter under his breath.
The words were out before she could swallow them back. "Tsk, language." She did swallow when he sent a murderous glare in her direction. "If you don't think it's possible, why are you so worried about it?" she went on hurriedly.
"The Choedan Kal are two sa'angreal, the most powerful ones ever created. Using them to attempt this folly would require amounts of Power that have never been wielded in living memory. The Choedan Kal were never tested; it was unanimously agreed that they were too dangerous. Foolish boy!" he said scornfully. "He could break the world before the Last Battle even begins!" Bao stood up angrily and started pacing in the tiny space of her tent.
Well, that would be a bother, Neya had to admit, but more pressingly, she had to calm Bao down before he did anything rash to ease his rage. She didn't want to find out exactly how deathly he could be. "Can I help in any way?" Probably not, but it cost nothing to ask.
"Little girl," he said condescendingly, "you can barely channel to start a fire. What do you think you could possibly do about this?"
"Well, you're the one who came to me with this," she replied crossly. "And whatever happened to calling people by their first names?" Being irritated was no excuse to be rude, her mother always said.
Bao threw her another baleful glare. "Watch your tone."
Neya wondered if he'd embraced the Source, or if he was merely radiating violence and danger. "Why do I have to watch what I say?" she complained, oblivious to Bao's dreadful mood. "Torn says worse things to you all the time and you never scold him." It was hardly fair. The man was even allowed to curse in Bao's presence!
"Torn has pledged his life to me," Bao informed her flatly.
"You want me to pledge myself to you? I would, you know. You're not as bad as all that. If your intent truly was to save the world, as they all seem to believe, I really would do it. But I don't think that's what you have in mind, is it?" she said dryly.
"I will do better than that," he replied softly. His anger was fading slowly; he had stopped pacing. "I will cleanse this pathetic world, I will purge it with fire, and from its ashes I will build a new world. A new Age will dawn, one that will make the Age of Legends pale in comparison." His dark eyes shone with fervour.
Oh, so he is mad, Neya thought with mounting horror. And he had seemed so lucid – at least compared to Ishamael and Lanfear. She cleared her throat. "Is that so?" she said guardedly.
"It was promised," he murmured.
"By the… Great Lord," she went on dubiously.
"You must not force yourself to use that term, if you do not wish to. It matters little."
"So the Dark One promised you that you could rule this fancy new world if you destroyed Rand and ensured that the Shadow won the Last Battle," she summed up. "But how can you believe anything it says? It is called the Father of Lies for a reason." Everyone always referred to the Dark One as if it were male, but she didn't think the Dark One was supposed to have a gender. It was an entity, not a person.
Bao was silent for a long time, eyeing her thoughtfully. "If the Great Lord should renege, I shall take what was promised. What is rightfully mine," he said fiercely.
"That's not what I meant," Neya explained patiently, although she wasn't certain why she was even bothering to reason with him. But she had started the debate now, and she would see this through. "Bao, I just don't think there will be a world to rule if the Dark One has its way. Why would it allow you, or anyone else, for that matter, to live once it has obtained what it wants? It is the Lord of the Grave, the Destroyer of Light. Why should it allow you to create a bright new world, when all it wants is death and darkness and chaos? How can any of you be so naive as to actually believe anything it says?" she asked him earnestly. "Has the promise of power and immortality rendered you all stupid?" It was so obvious to her; she couldn't understand how Bao did not see it – sane or not, he was an intelligent man.
Neya realised she was far off-limits – Light, had she really just called him stupid? – but she didn't care. It was too late, in any case.
Bao had crouched in front of her when she began ranting. His anger seemed to have drained out of him. His face was absolutely still; a skull would have been more expressive. "You have some valid points," he said dispassionately as he rose to his feet and exited the tent.
Neya stared after him with her mouth hanging open.