Rand sat against the back wall of his cell.
The Forsaken had thrown him in here several hours before, and he had spent the time overcoming the pain of the battering they had given him.
At first, he couldn't stand at all, and every time he moved pain would shoot through his body. He lay on the floor for a long time, assessing the damage.
His body, especially his ribs, was a mass of bruises from the numerous kicks landed there. It made it hard to breathe. His head felt like someone had driven a knife through it, and then half-Healed it. Agonizing pain flared in his right arm every time he tried to move it, and something was wrong with his left ankle.
The side of his coat was soaked through with blood from the wound in his side that broken open. It throbbed and burned agonizingly.
Not to mention the fact that he was so thirsty he would kill for a waterskin.
He laughed bitterly. I must look a mess. But that was the least of his worries.
He had risen from the floor quickly, so he would not change his mind and fall back. Every part of his body screamed in protest, and he had braced himself against the wall, eyes tightly closed, until the wash of agony had passed. Then he had walked around his cell, or rather limped because of his ankle, fumbling against the shield between him and saidin
Finally he had sat down to think.
Aviendha was his first concern. When the feel of her came rushing back through the bond, he had nearly cried in relief that she was not dead. She did not even seem to be hurt, except for a bad headache. And she was thirsty, as he was.
She had cut herself on something; her hand stung. The pain sensation quickly faded. What remained was a sense of disgust, as if she had touched something dead or slimy and rotting. What could that be? The following feelings of shock and loss confused him.
Very soon after that, he had felt her begin to concentrate, as if she was trying to retrieve something lost in her memory. Whatever the Forsaken had done to her must have temporarily made her forget.
Rand sat there, leaning back on the wall with his eyes closed, reveling in the awareness of her that had been lost for what seemed like an eternity. She wasn't dead. That was all that mattered. I love you, Aviendha, he thought silently, again and again, as if the feeling could somehow carry through the bond.
Suddenly, his cell opened and he scrambled to his feet, gritting his teeth. Light, it feels like I've been stoned! Asmodean stepped in, grimacing slightly as he looked around.
"What do you want?" Rand asked rudely. What's wrong with you? Are you trying to provoke them?
"To give the Lord Dragon his water," Asmodean answered calmly, holding up a waterskin. Rand couldn't tell if he was mocking him or not.
"Don't call me that." He stepped forward cautiously, refusing to let the Forsaken see him limp, and took the skin. He shook it. "How do I know this isn't poisoned?"
Asmodean laughed. "That would be rather crude, my Lord Dragon. We could have killed you in Altono. What is there to be gained by poisoning you now?"
Rand considered, and then uncorked the skin and drank deeply. Nothing seemed to be wrong with the cool water, and it felt unbelievably refreshing, rushing down his dry throat.
When he lowered it, Asmodean was staring at him. "What?" he asked. This man is making me nervous . . . "Do you want revenge for how I made you teach me?" And I wouldn't put it past him. After all, he is one of the Forsaken.
"No," the other man said thoughtfully. He gave Rand an odd look. "I was your enemy. I was trying to ruin you. When Lanfear netted me for you, you could have made my life miserable, without consequence. But you did not."
"I'm not Semirhage," Rand said angrily. "I don't get pleasure out of ruining people's lives." He stared at the Forsaken. "Where is Aviendha?"
"I would not have been so . . . sparing," Asmodean said softly.
"Where is Aviendha?" Rand persisted.
The Forsaken sighed and let it go. "Safe in her cell, my Lord Dragon. I think Lanfear is talking to her."
Rand stiffened. What could she want with Aviendha? But he already knew. As the thought passed through his head, he could feel her tense through the bond, and he sensed that she was more aware of her thirst.
Rand felt irrationally guilty that he had had water and she had not. He turned back to Asmodean. "Have you given her water?"
"Lanfear is taking a skin to her." The other man frowned. "I don't know if she will give her the water, though."
"What do you mean?" Rand asked sharply.
"Oh, I don't know," Asmodean dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. "Let me ask you a question, though." He turned dark eyes on Rand. "Do you love her?"
"Aviendha?"
"No, Lanfear." The Forsaken was frowning again, but this time at Rand. "She loved Lews Therin, and Lews Therin loved Ilyena Sunhair."
"I hate Lanfear," Rand said with conviction. What does he care?
Asmodean was watching him curiously. "I must go," he said abruptly. He held out a hand, and Rand tossed him the skin. "Will you make sure Aviendha gets water?" he said, and winced. There was entierely too much pleading in his voice. Why am I asking him? He won't care. But, to his surprise, Asmodean hesitated, and then nodded.
When the man was gone, Rand once more sat against the wall, thinking. What is it about that man? He doesn't seem to hate me, like the others do. Does it have something to do with -
No.
He concentrated on Aviendha again. She was no longer tense; Lanfear must have left.
And she was still thirsty.
The Forsaken had thrown him in here several hours before, and he had spent the time overcoming the pain of the battering they had given him.
At first, he couldn't stand at all, and every time he moved pain would shoot through his body. He lay on the floor for a long time, assessing the damage.
His body, especially his ribs, was a mass of bruises from the numerous kicks landed there. It made it hard to breathe. His head felt like someone had driven a knife through it, and then half-Healed it. Agonizing pain flared in his right arm every time he tried to move it, and something was wrong with his left ankle.
The side of his coat was soaked through with blood from the wound in his side that broken open. It throbbed and burned agonizingly.
Not to mention the fact that he was so thirsty he would kill for a waterskin.
He laughed bitterly. I must look a mess. But that was the least of his worries.
He had risen from the floor quickly, so he would not change his mind and fall back. Every part of his body screamed in protest, and he had braced himself against the wall, eyes tightly closed, until the wash of agony had passed. Then he had walked around his cell, or rather limped because of his ankle, fumbling against the shield between him and saidin
Finally he had sat down to think.
Aviendha was his first concern. When the feel of her came rushing back through the bond, he had nearly cried in relief that she was not dead. She did not even seem to be hurt, except for a bad headache. And she was thirsty, as he was.
She had cut herself on something; her hand stung. The pain sensation quickly faded. What remained was a sense of disgust, as if she had touched something dead or slimy and rotting. What could that be? The following feelings of shock and loss confused him.
Very soon after that, he had felt her begin to concentrate, as if she was trying to retrieve something lost in her memory. Whatever the Forsaken had done to her must have temporarily made her forget.
Rand sat there, leaning back on the wall with his eyes closed, reveling in the awareness of her that had been lost for what seemed like an eternity. She wasn't dead. That was all that mattered. I love you, Aviendha, he thought silently, again and again, as if the feeling could somehow carry through the bond.
Suddenly, his cell opened and he scrambled to his feet, gritting his teeth. Light, it feels like I've been stoned! Asmodean stepped in, grimacing slightly as he looked around.
"What do you want?" Rand asked rudely. What's wrong with you? Are you trying to provoke them?
"To give the Lord Dragon his water," Asmodean answered calmly, holding up a waterskin. Rand couldn't tell if he was mocking him or not.
"Don't call me that." He stepped forward cautiously, refusing to let the Forsaken see him limp, and took the skin. He shook it. "How do I know this isn't poisoned?"
Asmodean laughed. "That would be rather crude, my Lord Dragon. We could have killed you in Altono. What is there to be gained by poisoning you now?"
Rand considered, and then uncorked the skin and drank deeply. Nothing seemed to be wrong with the cool water, and it felt unbelievably refreshing, rushing down his dry throat.
When he lowered it, Asmodean was staring at him. "What?" he asked. This man is making me nervous . . . "Do you want revenge for how I made you teach me?" And I wouldn't put it past him. After all, he is one of the Forsaken.
"No," the other man said thoughtfully. He gave Rand an odd look. "I was your enemy. I was trying to ruin you. When Lanfear netted me for you, you could have made my life miserable, without consequence. But you did not."
"I'm not Semirhage," Rand said angrily. "I don't get pleasure out of ruining people's lives." He stared at the Forsaken. "Where is Aviendha?"
"I would not have been so . . . sparing," Asmodean said softly.
"Where is Aviendha?" Rand persisted.
The Forsaken sighed and let it go. "Safe in her cell, my Lord Dragon. I think Lanfear is talking to her."
Rand stiffened. What could she want with Aviendha? But he already knew. As the thought passed through his head, he could feel her tense through the bond, and he sensed that she was more aware of her thirst.
Rand felt irrationally guilty that he had had water and she had not. He turned back to Asmodean. "Have you given her water?"
"Lanfear is taking a skin to her." The other man frowned. "I don't know if she will give her the water, though."
"What do you mean?" Rand asked sharply.
"Oh, I don't know," Asmodean dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. "Let me ask you a question, though." He turned dark eyes on Rand. "Do you love her?"
"Aviendha?"
"No, Lanfear." The Forsaken was frowning again, but this time at Rand. "She loved Lews Therin, and Lews Therin loved Ilyena Sunhair."
"I hate Lanfear," Rand said with conviction. What does he care?
Asmodean was watching him curiously. "I must go," he said abruptly. He held out a hand, and Rand tossed him the skin. "Will you make sure Aviendha gets water?" he said, and winced. There was entierely too much pleading in his voice. Why am I asking him? He won't care. But, to his surprise, Asmodean hesitated, and then nodded.
When the man was gone, Rand once more sat against the wall, thinking. What is it about that man? He doesn't seem to hate me, like the others do. Does it have something to do with -
No.
He concentrated on Aviendha again. She was no longer tense; Lanfear must have left.
And she was still thirsty.