A/N: Quick note, in response to SugoiByoshin's review. I will admit that, starting out, I had no idea how the story was going to finish, which, on reflection, was a pretty stupid thing to do. After some thought, though, I do have a theory, which I think must be correct, as I am sure I have the next best thing to evidence that proves it. There are clues all over the place; most are red herrings, but I'll get around to revealing the answer pretty soon. The 'gars are closing in…

Chapter 7: Melatonin

She still wouldn't suspect. How could anyone suspect? I do not entirely believe the situation myself.

Asmodean

Quietly, Osan'gar stepped through the Gateway and closed it behind him as Aran'gar peered around the dim room. She never seemed to worry at all about being noticed, he had noticed, and he would not shed a tear if she got herself killed because of her lack of caution. As far as he saw it, only fools rushed in before seeing what was inside, although he had to admit that the chances of either of them being discovered here were very low.

It was midnight, and there was no light to be had from the new moon. Aran'gar had made a weave of saidin that shone a small amount of light around the room, which they had agreed beforehand would be all they would need. Now its pale light faintly illuminated the face of a girl, not past twenty Osan'gar would say had he been any judge, and beautiful too by the same token, with long dark hair lying across her face. She did nothing to move it, however; she was fast asleep. Osan'gar was absolutely certain of that fact. He had seen to it himself.

Once again, doubts about this idea assailed, more powerfully now they were actually there and about to do it. "Are you sure this will work?" he whispered, having asked the question half a dozen times already, having received the same answer each time, and knowing he would get the same answer this time as well.

"Of course," Aran'gar answered on cue, keeping her voice as low as his had been. Perhaps she was not as incautious as Osan'gar had thought. "After all, it's me. Don't you trust me?" She took the time to look back at him and smile the same slightly sickly grin she had done every other time he'd asked before leaning over the girl's bed, treading softly. She slowly waved a hand over the sleeping woman's face, then pulled up an eyelid with one thumb and peered into a vacant eye. Osan'gar almost had a heart attack, staggering around, trying to choke without making a sound, but Aran'gar failed to notice. She briskly removed her hand and stepped back, turning to him. "What did you do to her, anyway?"

Osan'gar found himself unable to speak. With some effort he managed to mumble, "Do you have any idea how stupid what you just did was?"

Aran'gar's eyes narrowed. "No," she said contemptuously, though she managed to keep her voice low. "And I don't care. Answer my question, then. What did you give to that girl?"

Giving up on outrage, he sighed and looked at the supine figure. "Melatonin," he said, thinking how nice it had been to be able to use his knowledge of biology in this Age for once. "It's naturally produced in the brain, to regulate sleep cycles. Once taken, it usually puts the subject to sleep quickly and in a manner with so few side effects that the subject might not even realise they were drugged at all. And, it is said to increase the vividness and clarity of dreams… though there isn't any real scientific evidence to support that," he added quickly. He disliked passing theory off as fact, even when he believed it. Or when he was relying on it, as he was now.

Aran'gar seemed more concerned with issues other than the finer points of scientific research, though. She looked at the girl and then back at him, a hint of nervousness in her eyes. "Are we sure this girl can really Dream? I'd thought that Talent was all but dead in this Age."

Osan'gar spread his hands in a gesture of helpless resignation. "This was your idea," he reminded her. "We don't have any choice but to trust Shaidar Haran here."

Her lip curled, showing what she thought of that, but he was right; the plan relied entirely on what the Myrddraal had told them. How it knew was anyone's guess, but then, it seemed to know everything, and who knew how it found anything out? The thought didn't make him any more confident. He felt himself dry-washing his hands again and made them stop. He didn't need any other distractions on top of what was already there.

He looked to Aran'gar. "Let's get on with it," he said, trying to sound brisk in the near silence. He realised how loud his voice sounded and paused; the only sound to be heard was the girl's slow and steady breathing. He had to focus more, if he didn't want to get them killed. He doubted the Aiel would be easy to deal with if they were found in here. Adjusting his collar anxiously, he went on. "I don't want to be standing around here all night."

Without looking at him, Aran'gar started to weave saidin. She didn't need to look at him, anyway; he half-thought he could feel her expression from where he was standing. At least that was the one thing they had agreed was safe before coming here. Neither of them thought there could be another saidin channeler within a hundred miles of Cairhien.

Through the Gateway Aran'gar created, Osan'gar could see the same wall that he knew lay on the other side, had he gone to look around it. The same wall, yet slightly different. It seemed to shimmer and flicker in a barely noticeable way, but unnerving once you knew it was there, and Osan'gar had already known it was there. He recognized Tel'aran'rhiod easily enough, and again he wondered if this really was such a good idea. Knowing what Aran'gar would do if he tried to back now still wasn't enough to prevent him registering objections. "Are you sure this will work?" he said for the twentieth time that night. Aran'gar paused in front of the Gateway and turned to him.

"Of course," she answered, the same way as she had already, but this time she did not smile. "I thought you wanted to hurry up and get it over with?" She didn't sound entirely confident, and Osan'gar could hardly blame her; what they were planning to do was not especially safe or wise, even for them. People had died in Tel'aran'rhiod, or at least, so it was thought if never proved; those who entered in the flesh and failed to return were simply never heard from again. There were many dangers in the Unseen World.

Hesitantly, Osan'gar followed her through the Gateway. Aran'gar closed it behind them. Now, the whole room looked darker, odd in a way Osan'gar couldn't articulate exactly. He never could. The sleeping girl was still there, though; probably enough proof that she had the Talent. Anyone with a little power could be trained to enter Tel'aran'rhiod, and affecting it properly required skill, but even in the Age of Legends, it was rare for someone to be born with the ability to see the future through Dreams, even if the Dreams often made little sense, even to the one who saw them. Not even Moghedien had had that particular skill, and she was more powerful in Tel'aran'rhiod than anyone else Osan'gar had ever seen. Yet skill it was; according to Shaidar Haran, there were many others in this camp, all Aiel, with similar abilities, but this one had been injured when she was foolish enough to incur Lanfear's wrath, and besides, none of them were as powerful or as 'pliable' as this one. The Myrddraal had smiled unpleasantly when it said that; Osan'gar did not want to know what it had meant.

But the girl was still there. Not just anyone could enter Tel'aran'rhiod, not for any long than a few seconds, anyway. Now they had to enter her dreams unnoticed, a task in itself, although Osan'gar was convinced that melatonin would help with that. It did have some side effects, of course, but he had been very exacting with dosage. Nobody had ever understood the workings of the human body as well as he did, in this Age or any other. And if the girl suffered some discomfort as a result of this, then what difference did that make? It mattered little to Osan'gar. As long as they did this part correctly, she would have no reason to ever suspect anything had happened.

Osan'gar stood silently while Aran'gar reached into the dream, and a light seemed to expand from the figure, taking on form as it did so. Now Osan'gar could see shapes and colours within it, being pulled in with Aran'gar, while at the same time they both made sure they didn't get drawn too far in, for fear of being trapped until the girl woke. Without having the Talent of dreamwalking, it was considerably more difficult to do, but it could be done, if one was strong enough. Only dreamwalkers could enter the between space from which all dreams could be seen and manipulated.

Inside the dream, Osan'gar could see two figures sitting face to face amidst darkness. One was Rand al'Thor, which was little surprise; apparently the girl knew him well. The other was a woman Osan'gar didn't know, although he noted with interest Aran'gar's start of recognition upon seeing her face. They both wore expressions of pain on their faces, and Osan'gar could see that they were connected by two cords of pure darkness emanating from al'Thor's side. He wondered at them. One looked oddly like his own connection to the Great Lord, protecting him from the taint on saidin. The other was similar, but different in some way Osan'gar couldn't put his finger on. They were definitely different, though. They repelled each other, almost seeming to be fighting despite the fact they wouldn't touch each other.

Rand and the woman were focused absolutely on the cords, and Osan'gar could see that the black threads moving closer together, though they resisted fiercely. Sweat poured down the faces of the two figures, but they remained motionless. Osan'gar wondered how he could make them out against the blackness all around, and suddenly there was something else in the dark. Other people, racing towards the two figures from every direction. Somehow he knew that they had to reach al'Thor before the cords touched, although he didn't know what would happen if they failed. Something… momentous. But the figures seemed to be slowing. Osan'gar could only just make them out, even though he could see the two in the centre perfectly well; the others seemed almost to be a part of the dark surrounding everything. Yet he could see that they were slowing, or being blocked by obstacles just out of Osan'gar's vision.

One of the figures finally got close enough to the centre to stop what was happening. Osan'gar looked with shock on the face that did not see him, a face covered in triumphant glee. His face. But as the other Osan'gar was about to strike, the blackness seemed to rise up around him, around his face and throat. The man had just enough time to give a muffled cry before the dark swallowed him. The real Osan'gar stared, eyes wide as saucers. At least, he thought he was the real Osan'gar; he was not so sure anymore.

Through all of this, the man and the woman sitting on the ground had not moved at all. They barely seemed aware of their surroundings. All that mattered to them were the two cords, which were now so close, so very close together.

The black cords touched and –

Suddenly, Osan'gar felt as though he were falling backwards. He scrabbled around himself, trying to clutch at something, to save himself, but nothing was there. He almost screamed – and found himself looking into Aran'gar's eyes, a mix of annoyance and concern in them. He staggered, and looked around. He was no longer in the dream, not totally; he was outside, looking in. He could still see the figures, blurred and distant, but he didn't want to look. He focused on Aran'gar. "What happened?"

"You were getting pulled too far into the dream," she answered quietly. "I dragged you back out. What was that?" With a jolt, Osan'gar realised that she had been one of the other figures in the dream, though he didn't remember seeing any of the faces.

He shrugged, clasping his hands together. "I don't know. These dreams could mean anything. They may not even be the certain future, just one of a number of possible ones that may or may not come true." Ishamael had told him that. He had only listened at the time because you never knew when some information would be useful, and now that was being proved correct. "Attempting to interpret it would almost certainly fail, and then we would be chasing after an incorrect future and be surprised by the real one."

Aran'gar nodded. "So we should just forget about it," she said, but Osan'gar could see from the look in her eye that she planned to keep it in the back of her mind. For himself, he wasn't sure if he wanted to think about it, never mind remember it. But that wasn't important now. They still had their job to do.

"Yes," he muttered. "We've already wasted enough time. The way time moves here, it might already be morning." Aran'gar nodded again, and turned back to the dream. It was blank, now; the dream was over, and awaiting a new one. All they had to do was twist it towards their own needs. Of course, that was easier to say than it was to do.

"I wish Moghedien were here," he added under his breath, but Aran'gar evidently heard him, since she looked at him in surprise and more than a hint of scorn. "Now there's a sentence I never thought I'd hear," she said derisively, though she must have known what he had meant. He looked at her, but already she was looking into the dream, manipulating it. A man appeared in the void. Asmodean. Perhaps the girl would recognize him, and perhaps not, but if it yielded the clue they needed, then it made little difference.

"Are you sure this will work?" Osan'gar said again, and this time hurriedly clarified the statement before receiving a stock answer. "I mean, Asmodean died in the past, not the future. How will this show us anything to do with his death?"

"Well, the only event in the future that could possibly involve Asmodean is our discovering who killed him. Right?" Osan'gar shrugged, but assented. "So, the dream will show us something to do with that. Hopefully, that will give us enough clues to be able to discover the truth."

Osan'gar's brow furrowed. "But if we use the information we get from the dream to catch Asmodean's killer, then that future only came about because we saw the dream, but the dream would have showed us a future that wouldn't have happened unless we'd seen it, so…"

"Try not to think about it," Aran'gar interrupted, seeing where this was going. "As long as it works, who cares about whether or not it makes sense? Besides, I think something's happening, so be quiet and watch."

She was right. Other shapes and figures were appearing around Asmodean in the dream, although too faint to make out. Steeling himself, Osan'gar drew closer, trying to see. As soon as they had a single clue, they could leave, which he looked forward to. But the figures were still murky. Hardly surprising, really; neither of them had expected it to be easy. Closer still. Now he could see two people in red; one male and one female, he thought, though he wasn't certain at this distance. Closer still. How far had he been in the other dream? It had all seemed real, then. Now it was blissfully distant, but he needed to get closer. He needed to see.

He stopped slowly, and Aran'gar paused beside him. They could see now. The ever-present darkness still clouded his view, though. He thought it must represent the Shadow; it had seemed much thicker around himself and others of the Dark than around al'Thor and Lightfriends. It didn't seem to stick to Asmodean as much, though. Well, he was a traitor, but Osan'gar had thought he still clung to the Shadow in secret. And indeed, there were still threads connected to him, though he was trying to shake them off. But if he was right, then what had it meant when those shadows had overpowered him and… Osan'gar shuddered to think of it again. Best to forget about it, he thought.

The clearest figure in his eyes other than Asmodean was a familiar looking man, tall with dark hair, dark face and a hooked nose that slightly marred his otherwise handsome features. At first Osan'gar had thought it was Demandred, but it couldn't be; the shadow only barely touched this man, but Demandred would surely be as entrenched in it as Osan'gar himself. He could not believe Demandred would be a traitor. Yet this man, while still touched by the darkness, was still free of it. Perhaps a Darkfriend, and perhaps not. Maybe neither. Osan'gar and Aran'gar watched the man, but he just stood there, looking for something. Two more figures appeared from the shadows, and Osan'gar started dry-washing his hands again when he realised they were himself and Aran'gar. The tall man pointed to the two other figures, a look of pleading in his face. Osan'gar – the real Osan'gar – and Aran'gar looked at the figures, but their faces were blurred as the shadows swallowed them.

And Asmodean stood in the middle of all this, not moving, just clutching and shaking at the cords tied to him. And slowly, he too disappeared.

Osan'gar jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned, and saw Aran'gar, gesturing that it was time to go. "We've learned all we can here. No need to hang around."

"But what have we learned? What are we going to do now?" Osan'gar didn't want to linger here any longer than necessary either, but he didn't want to have to come back either, when they discovered they still didn't know enough. But Aran'gar shook her head.

"Now we do all we can do. Follow the tall man."