Natael waited for Neya and Taim to catch up with him before following the Amyrlin inside the command tent. None of them spoke. Neya was tense, with good reason. Demandred had completely ignored her. If she truly cared for him, she must be feeling a combination of relief and dread. Betraying Demandred always had dire consequences. When Barid Bel Medar decided that Lews Therin had betrayed him, by refusing to hand over the command of the armies of the Light, he had turned to the Shadow. Was Neya's betrayal responsible for the man returning to the Light? Natael still couldn't believe that his former associate had taken the deal. Of all the Chosen, he had been sure that Demandred was the less likely to renounce the Shadow, especially now.

Inside the tent, Cauthon was already looking at the battlefield map and talking with Demandred – or arguing, if the boy's erratic gesticulations were any indication.

"What am I supposed to help with?" Neya muttered grumpily. "I don't know anything about war."

"They probably just want you to confirm or infirm whatever Demandred tells them," Taim whispered back as they made their way toward the assembled generals and rulers. "They don't trust him, no more than they trust me." The Saldaean's features had taken on a dark cast the moment Demandred had opened the gateway. He'd likely hoped that the Chosen would turn down the Amyrlin's proposition, and to get Neya all to himself, by the looks of it. He followed her around like a lost puppy, now that the Light had accepted him back.

"And you really think they trust me?" Neya asked with a snort. Taim shrugged.

Cauthon looked up when his sister walked in. "Neya, how many soldiers are there in the Sharan army, exactly? Do you know?"

Obviously, he had already asked Demandred the same question, but the older man didn't say anything, though he did purse his lips slightly. He was as good as his word, Demandred was, and he disliked people doubting him. Neya was looking at Demandred, but he kept ignoring her. She exhaled slowly. "A handful of male channelers, about four hundred female channelers and I'm guessing about six or seven thousand soldiers of all sorts."

Cauthon frowned dubiously. Had Demandred lied, or was Neya simply wrong? To be fair, the Sharans must have suffered some losses since they'd arrived in the West, losses she might not be aware of. "Can you be a little more specific? How many archers, horsemen, foot soldiers?" Cauthon prompted her impatiently.

"I have no idea, Mat. I know I should have gathered better intelligence, but I guess I botched that part, too," she said bitterly. "In any case, he knows the exact numbers," she added, gesturing toward Demandred. "He has no reason to lie to you."

Cauthon eyed her doubtfully. "As you say. How soon do you think your replacement will show up, whoever it is?" he asked Demandred.

"We must assume that she is already in place, whether it is Hessalam or Moghedien," Demandred replied calmly. "We need to act fast. I must relocate my army, away from the Shadowspawn, and M'Hael's followers must be dealt with as soon as possible, before they can be organised to mount an assault."

"It's a shame that melting their brains didn't render them blindly loyal to Taim, only to the Shadow," Mat grumbled.

Taim stiffened and looked like he was about to speak, but thought better of it. Logain's expression soured, his hand tightening on the pommel of his sword. Natael expected Neya to scold her brother for his tactless words, but she was studying the map attentively, a small frown creasing her brow. "Given the current disposition, aren't you afraid that Lilen might play the same trick she used in M'Jinn in the second year of the War of Power?" she asked in a low voice. Everyone stared at her, and she seemed to suddenly realise that she'd spoken aloud.

How could she possibly know about that? Blast, was she hearing the voices of dead madmen in her head, too? Or had Elan told her about it? Blushing slightly, Neya shrugged in embarrassment. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Moghedien had nothing to do with what happened in M'Jinn," Demandred declared without a glance at Neya. "It was another of the…Forsaken. Dhaemon."

Neya frowned at him. "No, I'm fairly certain it was Lilen. Elan claimed that that Dhaemon fellow died in a skirmish earlier the same day, and he ordered Lilen to take over his forces. She might have disguised herself as the dead man, I suppose. Apparently, she does that a lot." Demandred finally turned his head sideways to stare at her. For that matter, everyone else did. Natael was about to speak, to tell them that she was in fact correct, but al'Thor's gorgeous half-brother forestalled him.

"Elan?" Galad Damodred repeated roughly. It was a wonder that Graendal hadn't taken him for her pet collection… Especially now that he led the Whitecloaks. "Isn't that the name that the Forsaken Ishamael abandoned when he pledged his soul to the Dark One? Elan Morin Tedronai?"

Neya appeared taken aback for a moment, but she recovered quickly. "It is. It was. I…um, spent some time with him," she admitted, her cheeks colouring again. "Before I came to Rhuidean, I was his…captive."

"Light have mercy!" Damodred hissed. "Are we really going to listen to this woman? She has been around the Forsaken for the Creator alone knows how long! Mother," he said, turning to the Amyrlin, "I understand that she was your friend, a long time ago, but she cannot be trusted. None of them can be trusted," he went on, indicating Demandred, Taim and even Natael himself. As if he hadn't proven his loyalty time and again! "It's a trap, I'm certain of it. An elaborate one, but I wouldn't put it past the Forsaken to imagine something so twisted," Damodred told them fervently. "They're clearly working together to undermine us."

"Galad, please, calm down," the Amyrlin said quietly. "We cannot afford not to trust them. We all agreed to this," she told him sternly.

"Reluctantly," Galad retorted. "Mother, did you know about the time she spent with Ishamael? Did anyone know? What about the fact that she knew who this one was," he went on, pointing at Natael, "when no one else did?" Min cleared her throat loudly, but the Lord Captain Commander of the Children of the Light affected not to hear. "And not to be crude, but it seems clear to me that she has laid with at least some of them," he added with a contemptuous grimace.

"Hey now, you watch your tongue!" Cauthon warned him.

Neya raised a hand. "Actually, I bedded all four," she told Damodred sweetly. Cauthon's mouth fell open. In other circumstances, Natael would have laughed. "Mat knew about Ishamael," Neya went on, "and Rand knew about Ishamael and Jasin – Asmodean, Natael, whatever you're calling him now. Rand sent me to the Black Tower and he brought Mazrim there himself. I also spent over a month in a cell in Lanfear's den, if you truly want to know everything. And before you ask, no, I didn't bed her," she spat out sourly. "I'm ta'veren, pretty boy, and I'll wager I've been through a bloody lot more than you have in the past two years. To the Pit of Doom with your scorn and flaming righteousness!" She was panting by the time she was done. Taim placed a hand on her shoulder and murmured something inaudible to everyone else. Neya closed her eyes in an obvious attempt to regain her composure.

"It's all true," Natael put in quickly. "Al'Thor knew everything. And Min, too. It's not Neya's fault that they chose not to tell anyone else. Give her a break, pretty boy," he added firmly when Damodred tried to retort. 'Pretty' was too weak a word to describe him, but references to his physique obviously bothered him, so it would do.

"Can we focus on the matter at hand? You know, the Last bloody Battle?" Cauthon enquired, clearly anxious to change the subject. "Neya, what did you mean earlier? About M'Jinn?"

"Bao can explain better than me," she replied dismissively. "He was there. Moghedien defeated him, took him by surprise, not long before he turned to the Shadow." As Bao launched into a concise explanation, Neya walked away from them and sat down on the ground. Taim imitated her and, a moment later, Natael decided to join them. As expected, no one was interested in his opinion on the strategy to adopt; he might as well rest before the fighting resumed. Surely they would want him to fight, now that they knew who he truly was? They would want him to prove himself – yet again.

When Taim saw Natael approach, he interrupted the speech he'd been making. "Do you want some water?" he asked Neya, pointedly ignoring Natael.

She smiled wanly. She looked exhausted. "Yes, some water would be great. Thank you."

"I could do with some wine," Natael put in. Taim gave him a flat look, but he stood up. Natael grinned after him. He was the kind of person Natael liked to watch from behind. Neya chuckled softly and he returned his attention to her. "What?" he asked innocently. "I'm just looking."

"Well, you can't look at him like that," she scolded him good-naturedly. "He's mine." She said it with a smile, but Natael could tell that she was only half-joking. She seemed very possessive of the young man.

"I thought you and Demandred–"

"Yeah, well, that's not going to last, is it?" she said sharply. "Looks like I bungled everything with impressive thoroughness." Then, unexpectedly enough, she laughed softly. "Although, come to think of it, if I can manage to salvage anything from our marriage…" Natael frowned. Marriage? Demandred had married her? Blood and ashes!

Neya was studying him with calculating eyes. "What?" he asked slowly. He didn't like the mischievous gleam in her eyes. It reminded him of Cauthon's gaze, sometimes, though he knew that they weren't related.

"If I did manage to earn my place back at Bao's side, somehow, and you and Mazrim were to…um, keep each other company…" She trailed off, blushing furiously.

Natael stared at her, eyes narrowed. "I don't like where this is going." Was she implying what he thought she was implying? No, surely not.

"Why not? You would get along marvellously well. Besides, you and Bao will live for an approximately even number of years, just like Mazrim and I will. So, when you and Bao are both dead, we could be together," she went on with a perfectly straight face, although her cheeks were still red.

Natael gaped at her for a second before bursting out laughing. He couldn't believe she'd just said that. Out loud. Had she gone utterly mad?

Natael was dimly aware that Taim had returned and was scowling at him. "What's wrong with him?" Taim asked dryly. "Has the taint corrupted his mind? What could possibly be so amusing at a time like this?"

"Why, me, of course." Neya grinned up at him, taking the goblet of water he was offering. Taim snorted in disbelief.

"Do you really want to know what we were talking about?" Natael asked, trying to keep his mirth contained.

Taim shrugged, but Neya shook her head emphatically, which caused Taim to frown at her. "It was nothing," she said quickly, an even brighter blush slowly creeping on her cheeks. "Hardly the time or place," she muttered. She buried her face in her goblet as best she could.

Taim looked at Natael questioningly, clearly hoping for a more explicit answer, but Natael spread his hands in apology. It truly wasn't a good time – though he doubted there would ever be a good time to talk about this. Abruptly, he realised that Taim had brought him back a goblet of wine and was offering it to him hesitantly. Natael flashed him a flirtatious smile as he accepted the drink, bowing his head slightly in thanks. The Saldaean appeared mystified, but he didn't remark upon it. He sat down close to Neya, and the two of them started talking in low voices, though Taim kept stealing glances at Natael.

It didn't bother him to be excluded from their hushed conversation. He had just decided that Taim would be his. Not because Neya had emitted the idea – or not only because of that. There was something about the man that was simply…irresistible. Natael had never been good at resisting temptation, and Neya had practically given him her blessing to pursue the younger man. She wanted him to.

Natael would gladly oblige. He liked a challenge and, judging by the look of utter adoration Taim was giving Neya, it was going to be a challenge indeed.

Shendla took a small moment to congratulate herself. It had all worked out for the best.

Mintel had joined her in Bao's tent and was sitting cross-legged on the ground. "Well, we have our orders," Shendla stated.

Mintel nodded, grinning. "I must meditate briefly, to thank Kongsidi. Then I will inform the generals of Bao's new plans," he offered. "Will you talk to Galbrait?" Shendla nodded in assent. The old man closed his eyes, his respiration slowing. Shendla left him to his meditation to find the leader of the Ayyad.

She had been worried when she'd realised that Bao was heading for Saseko's tent, earlier. In fact, she had followed him, blade unsheathed, ready to put an end to this foolishness right there and then. She wasn't sure if she would have killed the hussy or Bao himself, but someone would have died, that was certain. She couldn't have let him ruin everything now, especially like that.

She had followed him to the Ayyad's camp, but Bao had stepped out of Saseko's tent before Shendla could reach it. He'd stalked past Shendla without a word, looking determined. Curious, Shendla had walked on and lifted the flap of the Darkfriend's tent. Saseko had jumped a foot in the air in fright and had greeted Shendla with a baleful glare. "What did he want with you, girl?" Shendla had demanded sharply.

"I don't know," Saseko had spat out. "The Wyld walked in unannounced and just…stared at me for a moment," she said, her delicate brow creased. "Then he muttered something in this…Old Tongue and stormed off. What is wrong with him?"

Shendla smiled at her, in a way that made the younger woman recoil. "Nothing is wrong with our king. Quite the opposite, in fact. Finally, he is doing the right thing." She had left the tent without another word, leaving the Darkfriend to puzzle out her meaning.

Shendla was making her way toward the Ayyad's camp once more to find Galbrait and announce the good news. There was a lot to see to while Bao settled the terms of his… Well, it wasn't surrender. The man wasn't yielding, or giving in. He was simply bending to the will of the Tapestry to fulfil his destiny, at long last, as prophesised. And now, the Last Battle could begin in earnest.

This was Shendla's last lucid thought, just before her mortal soul was forcibly wrenched out of the Tapestry, every fibre of her body dissolving into nothingness.

As the shadowed figure moved to take her place, it was as though Shendla had never existed at all.