Walking slowly and painfully, he walked to the Warder, suspended in the air. He softly put a hand over the man's mouth, and gave him a look he hoped the man could read. Gale moved behind the Warder and tore the remaining cloak material into strips. Praying the man would not cry out, or shout, he tried to carefully, bind the wounds, so the Warder could walk, if slowly and painfully. Walking to the table of instruments, he found a sharp one and cut the ropes, suspending the Warder, catching him as best he could so the man would not fall too hard.

Gritting his teeth against the fresh pain of his burned skin, he pulled the Warder up, trying to support him. Slowly they moved toward the doorway of the tent. Gale collected himself, and wove a mask of mirrors around them both, tying it off and releasing the source. He stayed out of the firelight, making for the edge of the woods. Calls came out to them, raucously, for it looked as if one Child was supporting another as they walked toward the woods, for he had given one of them a drunken appearance. Nothing to worry about, just one Whitecloak helping his ill companion to a place where he could sick up in peace.

They reached the woods and continued, going on for how long, Gale did not know. When he could stand it no longer, he dropped the Gaidin a little roughly against a tree, wincing. He found his own and leaned against it, ignoring the protests of his burned skin. The Mask had long since unraveled. He had never felt so helpless. He sat, not knowing what to do.

xxxx

Mikel allowed himself an elated smile when the man finally spoke the name. Such a simple thing to say. Alisain Drogorna. Aes Sedai of the White Tower. And a known liar. The Inquisitor had known from the look in the Gaidin's eyes that the words he spoke were truthful, at least from his perception. Unfortunately, there were still great risks in trusting his opinion; the words this witch spoke might well have been truthful... Lain could simply have believed it to be a lie. Perhaps he had simply been misinformed about the situation, rendering his point of view utterly useless. Either way Mikel did believe that the oaths existed in some form or another; the witches were so corrupted and debased from their own power that they needed some form of binding that would hold them to their vows. A true follower of the Light would not need such things... a promise should be enough for honest folk... it only confirmed in his eyes that all witches were tainted and impure.

"Yet there must be different levels of corruption," he murmured to himself once again, more and more certain of this fact with each passing moment. At least the witches who hold to their oaths are clawing onto some twisted form of unity and trust... better than those of them who have found some way to break the pledge. It truly made sense to Mikel; those who were fully immersed in Shadow must be the ones who could knowingly tell a lie. "Thank you Lain... thank you very much indeed." Finally he released the serving girl and quickly dismissed the wretch with a sharp clap of his hands. "You are hereby released for a three month leave of absence... and you will no longer work in my presence." The break would be needed for the wench to retain some vestige of sanity and she would lose even that if she were to ever serve near him again. "Go!"

She all but crawled out of the tent, staggering through the exit and screaming at the top of her voice as if loud noises would serve as some form of protection against the crazed Lord Inquisitor. Meanwhile the Children looked at him with varying levels of emotion in their eyes, some quite obviously horrified that he would use an innocent woman in his designs while others only appearing to pity him, a man clearly so obsessed with his job that he had lost even the ability to feel a hint of compassion. Most disturbing of all were the ones who seemed intrigued by his actions... even... pleased. Fools, all of them! Distracting themselves with emotion when there is a job to do.

"Do not be disheartened by your submission, Lain," Mikel said, turning his head back towards the Warder. "All of us have our limits... I would not have spoken a word had I been in your position just then... but as for the torture... suffice it to say that the first touch of a steaming pincer would loosen my tongue in good time." Why are you comforting him...? He is tainted by the White Tower, probably more lost to the Shadow than any living thing other than Shadowspawn. You cannot allow yourself to like him. "I truly am sorry for what pain I have caused you... in an ideal world, it would not have been necessary." Turning away towards the exit, Mikel shot back a few last words to the Gaidin. "I will expect a little more information from you with regards to this Aes Sedai but once I am fully satisfied, I will allow you a quick and clean beheading." That was usually reserved for the nobility but Lain deserved that much mercy. "One more day, Warder... one day and you can have your long rest."

Finally departing from the tent, he ordered the guards to remain alert and told the herb doctor to administer a further dose of that tea to the Asha'man within the next fifteen minutes. That one has not given away so much as a slither of information yet... Mikel mused, reminding himself that Lain was not the only valuable commodity held in that tent. Yet even a Lord Inquisitor needed a respite at times... causing suffering to others was a draining experience, to say the least. There was also other business to attend to; the question was, who should Mikel send out messages to? Not many amongst the Children share my beliefs... my belief that not all witches bathe in the Shadow would be construed as treason by most. Perhaps even by the Lord Captain Commander, sensible as he may usually be. He would send word to his agents in Tar Valon that he desired information about this woman... this Alisain Drogorna. It would be best to write down that name as well; even the slightest mistake in spelling or pronunciation could ruin all his plans. I will find them though... I will find these Shadow Circles. I vow it.

It was this thought that spurred him on as he sat down in his own tent once more and began scribbling out various messages, some addressed to the Lord Captain Commander, others to his Eyes and Ears and still more to those of the Hand that were under his direct command. The letter to the Commander mentioned only his suspicions about the numbers of Aes Sedai and Gaidin; that information alone would suffice to raise his prestige amongst the Children. It was a great risk indeed to not mention what else he had discovered but Mikel was willing to put even his own life in the balance if it served to unearth the Shadow. I will find the Circles.

"My Lord Inquisitor," a breathless voice announced, marching into the tent with a fearful look in his eyes. "The prisoners... they have both escaped... the Asha'man... he used the Power... guards, my Lord... dozens dead." Mikel nodded thoughtfully. Curious indeed... the tea had been far less effective than he might have hoped for. Surprisingly though, he did not feel fury; the truly important information had been unearthed, Lain had given him the key to the Shadow, Mikel was certain of it.

"Arrest the herb doctor for incompetence but advise the Lord Captain that chasing the pair would be in vain." The boy Asha'man would not be caught by surprise a second time. People learned from their mistakes and if he had the same sort of training as the majority of these Black Tower fellows then recapturing the boy might well end in hundreds of casualties. Perhaps even a whole legion. It was not worth the sacrifice. "You are dismissed, Child." There was work to be done.

xxxx

Words vaguely registered in Lain's ears; thanks from the Monster, him releasing the poor girl... the girl with Mileni's face... Screams from the girl's throat as she stumbled out of the tent... Mutters of discontent from the more human Whitecloaks...

"...I will expect a little more information..." His body tensed. Would the filthy Creature keep his promise? To see Mileni again... was that still too much to ask? "...once I am fully satisfied, I will allow you..." He relaxed again, releasing his tensed muscles. Mileni. Just one day... As he heard the Creature finally leave the tent, he opened his eyes slightly, peering out of tiny slits. The guards stood straight, firmly staring at both him and the Asha'man. Mostly the latter, though. A broken, mutilated Gaidin held no threat; not to them, not to anyone. His eyes slid shut once more as a few of the guards shifted to force-feed some vile concoction to the other prisoner. Sleep took him.

He woke at a rustling behind him, the direction of the Asha'man. He opened his eyes, mildly curious as to what was happening- and if the Monster had returned. A glance to the entrance of the tent relieved the last fear; he was not back. His eyes closed again, then snapped open. Where were the guards? The movement behind him suddenly took on more meaning. Could it be? Was escape actually possible? Do I care?

A hand suddenly clamped over his mouth, the Asha'man standing at his side. Eyes wide, Lain stared back at him, staying silent. Understanding the look in the man's eyes, he bit his lips as he moved behind Lain. Ripping sounds ensued, and blinding pain hit Lain between the eyes as strips of cloth were carefully wrapped around his ruined leg. As he was still blinking the stars away, he fell, his ropes sliced. The Asha'man clumsily caught him as he fell, slowing his descent.

The man pulled at him, trying to stand. Realization dawned on him as he wrapped his left arm around the man's neck, his right hanging useless and ignored at his side. He hopped carefully on his less-injured leg, moving slowly towards the entrance. This will never work, he thought vaguely. Never... Yet Whitecloaks nodded and called at them as they moved, laughing. As they reached the woods, Lain was numb with shock and pain, disbelief coursing through his body. After a while, they dropped to the ground wearily, Lain falling against a tree. Another wave of agony shot through his right arm, which he had landed on, but he barely noticed. He stared in disbelief at his rescuer, who leaned against his own tree, covered with burns, his hands ruined.

"You..." he began, in a voice hoarse with screams. "You... Thank you..." he murmured. "How... How did you..." He shook his head. It didn't matter. "I don't suppose you can Heal," he said wearily, twisting to re-bind his leg. Blood had begun pouring from the wound again, and he stuffed the cloth into it, tearing strips of his trousers to secure it. "I don't think it would help at this point anyway," he muttered under his breath, closing his eyes and leaning backwards.