Prologue: Death is no escape.

Verin felt herself grow more tired, her limbs heavy. The poison had taken effect slightly quicker than she had thought, and she had not said as much as she wanted to, but she'd covered the important things at least. Egwene would be able to do what was needed, she had confidence in the young woman. She stopped fighting the effects of the poison, allowed herself to fall asleep. Death would come soon after.

She wasn't sure how long it had been, when awareness returned. She was disoriented, she was definitely awake but something was different. Only then she realized she could not feel her body. Was she paralyzed, or held by the Power somehow? She concentrated but could not feel anything, anything at all. Then she remembered what had happened. She had done it, had given Egwene the information she needed! Then her satisfaction melted away as a voice crashed into her mind.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE

So the Dark One had noticed. She had considered the possibility, had known he was called Lord of the Grave, and that his power reached beyond death. But she had prepared too. Drawing on a lifetime of mental discipline, she left her mind blank, not answering.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE

The voice crashed into her mind again. Verin ignored it.

Now she felt as if something tried to pry at her mind, burrow into her head -if she'd had one. She did not make up any excuses, lies might be detected. But no matter how many tales she had researched, not once had she heard of the Dark One being able to read someone's thoughts literally, before or after death. She stayed silent as before.

The prying went deeper, deeper, then disappeared. She did not allow herself to feel relief or hope that she had won. The Dark One would not give up so easily, and hope was one of the most dangerous things. Leaving prisoners alone, even allowing them to believe in release or escape, then dashing those hopes, it was one of the more effective ways of torture. But it was time consuming as well. As long as she could hold out for a little while, a day or perhaps two, Egwene should have been able to act on the information she had. Even held captive, she had contacts with several allies, Verin had seen evidence of that in the short time she had spent in the Tower.

Suddenly she felt something wrench at her mind and she blinked. Literally blinked, because she had eyes again. Then she clenched them shut just as quickly, the light unbearable after the darkness, or simple nothingness, she had floated in. She felt the rest of her body. She was laying on her side on a cold, hard floor, smooth as tile or marble, and she was naked.

Carefully, squinting against the harsh light, she opened her eyes for the second time and looked at herself. It wasn't her own body, but she had known that from the feeling alone. More slender, much younger, and she saw long, brown hair spread out on the floor beneath her face, lighter brown than hers had been even in her youth. It wasn't just a younger version of herself, she was taller now and she had never been this slim. She raised a hand, the fingers long, slender and soft.

"If you are done admiring yourself, perhaps you can tell me what you have done. Although you are right, it is a rather nice body you have. It will be a pity if I have to maim it too much."

The voice was like dry bones crumbling, a Myrddraal without doubt. The cold fear crept into her in spite of all her carefully built mental disciplines, and in a reflex, against all better judgment, she reached for Saidar. No, she was shielded.

"Really, Verin, your lack of control disappoints me. You can't think I would allow that."

Verin chided herself for her lapse of concentration. She had worked so hard on her mental disciplines, and here she was making mistakes while the interrogation was barely started! It was finding herself in a strange body that threw her off, while she knew it could be done, it was something she had not expected. But it was mental disciplines she had trained, her body should not matter much. The physical pain that was to come she could deal with, even if this body was not trained in it.

She heard soft footsteps, almost unheard even on the marble, and black boots came into view. She looked up, felt a cold fist clench her heart as what she had not allowed herself to think was confirmed. Shaidar Haran! With great effort she kept her face calm.

The tall Myrddraal shook his head as he looked down upon her. "You try so hard to be brave, but I can see your muscles tense up, hear every irregularity in your breathing."

He stepped forward, knelt down next to her and ran a cold hand over her body, stroking softly as one would pet an animal.

"You forget rather more than your face is exposed to me."

This time she did relax her body, managed to pretend his touch did not affect her.

Shaidar Haran smiled.

"That's the spirit." Then the smile disappeared as he stood up abruptly, turned and walked to a table set against the far wall. "I would enjoy breaking you slowly, but we have little time."

Verin watched, still motionless, as he picked up a small box from the table.

"Get on your knees."

She ignored the command.

Only a few heartbeats later, she was picked up by invisible weaves of the Power and forced onto her knees, back bent down low. She gasped. Myrddraal couldn't channel! So much she had known and still too much she had missed. She forced herself to breathe normally again, but of course Shaidar Haran had long noticed her shock.

"Surprised?" he enquired, almost pleasantly.

Yes she was, but she managed to regain control of her emotions quickly each time. Still, the first glimmer of doubt started to worm into her mind. Had she underestimated the kind of interrogation she would be subjected to? She pushed it down just as quickly. If she allowed herself to doubt her abilities, then she would be lost.

Shaidar Haran walked back towards her, then two stools flew through the air and landed in front of her.

Verin no longer reacted to seeing him channel, kept her breathing perfectly even.

The Myrddraal sat down on the taller of the two stools.

"I suppose asking you to give me your hand is useless," he remarked, even as he reached out and took her left wrist. She tensed, resisted, but his physical strength was greater than that of any man. He placed her hand on the smaller stool, palm down, then she felt the Air solidify across the back of her hand and her wrist.

"People always think of great torture chambers filled with large, ingenious instruments," Shaidar Haran said, as he looked at the small box he had held in his other hand. "But really, a few very small items can be just as effective."

He opened the box, it rattled slightly. Then he took out five short, thick but sharp pins and placed them carefully on the edge of the small stool. He closed the box and put it aside, on the floor.

Verin watched, her apprehension and breathing under control. She would embrace the pain as she had learned from studying many disciplines in her past life.

Shaidar Haran picked up the first of the pins, paused once more as he seemed to decide where to start. He placed the tip under the nail of her index finger, and pushed.

Pain shot up her finger, lanced through her hand all the way up her arm. Verin gasped loudly, the pain worse than she had imagined. But she managed to bite back a scream.

The Myrddraal took the second pin, but this time, more prepared, Verin managed to stay completely silent. At the third she had to bite her lip. The fourth, under her pinky nail, made her gasp again and she pulled back, muscles straining against the bond. When the fifth pin was pushed under the nail of her thumb she was sweating and tears leaked down her face, but still no sound louder than a gasp had crossed her lips.

Shaidar Haran looked at her intently with his eyeless gaze. "Stubborn like an Aiel. But I will find your voice."

He reached down, pushed down on the end of one of the pins, pulled another one sharply up, twisted a third side to side.

Verin screamed. Her resolve melted away under the pain that shot up her arm, her hand aflame, and she bellowed, writhing as she pulled against the bonds that held her.

Shaidar Haran did not let up, it was not merely screams he wanted. He continued to play with the pins stuck under her nails, while Verin cried out. It seemed to go on for a long time.

Her voice grew hoarse, but in a way it was a relief to scream. It was a way to let out some of the pain and fear she felt, and simple screams would not give anything away. She would not beg him to stop, would not talk about what she had done. Not yet.

Finally the constant fiddling with the pins came to an end. The throbbing pain barely lessened, but at least there were no new shoots of fire lancing up her arm. Verin stopped screaming, slumped in the bonds, breathing hard.

Shaidar Haran reached out, petted her on her head. "You think that hurt?" he asked. He got up, and Verin could hear him walk to the table. She raised her head, saw him pick up a bowl and a small knife.
Shaidar Haran sat back down, stroked her fingers with one of his, then, one by one, he pulled the pins out and laid them aside. But before Verin had any time to feel relief, she felt something take the nail of her index finger and tug. She yelped as the nail was pulled out of the nail bed.

Then Shaidar Haran reached into the bowl, and she felt all blood leave her face as she saw the ice pepper in his hand.

"No," she said softly before she could stop herself.

For a moment Shaidar Haran looked at her, then shook his head. "No, you aren't ready to talk yet."

And she wasn't. She clenched her teeth as she watched Shaidar Haran cut open the pepper, then pick up the pin. And she howled as he put the pepper on her ravaged finger, then pinned it in place, pushing the pin clear through the flesh, almost effortlessly with his superhuman strength. She howled, writhed, then passed out, only to be brought back to consciousness with a weave that burned like fire throughout her body.

Gasping for breath, she hung in the bonds of Air. Somewhere on the periphery of her mind she noticed she had soiled herself, but she didn't even care. All she knew was that she hurt and it was far from over.

"That was only one finger," Shaidar Haran told her. "Perhaps, you are beginning to consider telling me what you did?"

"No," Verin hissed between her teeth. She couldn't, she really couldn't, she had to give Egwene time to act.

"Your choice," Shadar Haran remarked, even as he reached into the bowl for another ice pepper.

Her next nail was pulled out, and the pepper pinned in its place. Then a third, the fourth, and fifth. Verin no longer cared how much she screamed or cried, and she passed out twice more. Shadar Haran did not pause in between to ask her if she wanted to talk, and she did not beg him to stop. Finally he was done, her hand throbbed and burned as if it was held in boiling oil. But she had held out.

As the bonds of Air around her hand and wrist were released, she lacked even the strength to hold her hand up. It slipped off the small stool, and she cried out as the protruding pins hit the floor. Then she screamed in even more horror as Shaidar Haran grasped her other hand, the right one, to put it in place of the first one.

"No, no!" She could not help herself. She struggled, tried to pull lose with all her strength, then clenched her fist as he pulled her arm forward in spite of her struggles. He pried her fingers open, snapping the bone of one of them in the process. As tears streamed down her face, he put her hand down and wove the bonds of Air around it.

"If you want me to stop, you only have to tell me what I want to know," Shaidar Haran said.

She shook her head weakly. "No," she whispered.

With a small shrug, Shaidar Haran retrieved five more pins from the small box.

On the left hand, Verin had managed to stop herself from screaming as the pins were inserted, now she did not know how she had managed that. She yelped with each one, and as the Myrddraal started to tug and turn and wriggle them, she thought her voice would give out. He kept it up longer, far longer than with her left hand, or so it seemed to her. She passed out twice more, each time awakening to constant agony, only the third time when she found herself slumped in the bonds did he no long play with the pins. Which could hardly be called a relief.

Shaidar Haran reached for the bowl, then paused as he studied her.

"This is your last chance to talk. If you do not take it, I will not stop until I am done with this hand," he told her.

She wanted him to stop, anything to make him stop, but she thought of the number of Black, of those in influential positions like Sheriam, Moria, Alviarin, Duhara, Sedore, Velina, Katerine.. Not to mention Mesaana who had placed herself in the Tower. If she did not hold out, Verin was sure the Tower would be lost. She shook her head weakly.

The next moment, she was gagged, no longer able to plead even if she wanted to. She cried and struggled as Shaidar Haran pulled out the first nail. By the second nail, she knew she had made a mistake. She couldn't, couldn't hold out any longer. But she could not speak, and she knew Shaidar Haran would not listen if she had been able to. She passed out, was wakened, lost consciousness again, she lost count of how many times it had been. He pinned the ice pepper on her third finger, her fourth, and when Shaidar Haran rubbed, almost caressed her thumb before pushing the last pin through the flesh, Verin knew he had won. The only hope she had left was that maybe it had been long enough, she hadn't held out near as long as she had wanted to but surely she had been here all night, at least.

The gag dropped and she burst out, "Egwene has it." If the girl hadn't taken quick action, it would mean her death. And the fall of the White Tower. But Verin no longer cared. No, that was wrong, she did care. It just wasn't enough to make her bear more of this.

"Has what?" Shaidar Haran inquired calmly.

"The names of the Black, all I could find. I wrote them in a notebook, in code, and I gave it to Egwene. I had a Bookstrap. And I wrote letters." She was babbling now, not telling what she had done in a coherent manner, but Shaidar Haran listened, asked questions, and Verin answered them all.

Finally she had told everything, and Shaidar Haran seemed satisfied. She felt the bonds of Air disappear and she slumped down, crouching over her ruined hands protectively. Once more she felt Shaidar Haran's hand pat her on the head.

"There is clean water in the bucket near the wall behind you. You may remove the pins and wash up," he said.

Remove the pins, herself? While she had no use of her hands? She shuddered at the thought of even the slightest touch to the pins stuck in her flesh, but she knew he would not help her.

"Yes, High Master," she whispered. He had told her to address him like that, as if he were one of the Forsaken.

"I will return." Shaidar Haran said, and walked towards the only door in the room. No doubt to send out messages to warn the Black, and Mesaana, and those who would command the armies at Caemlyn. Or would it be too late? She had to know.

"How long?" It came out a whisper, but Shaidar Haran had very accurate hearing. He stopped, turned.

"What?"

"How long have I been here?" Verin asked.

Shaidar Haran laughed. Laughed, a Myrddraal! "You died just three hours ago," he told her, then walked out of the room.

Verin stared after him. It had only been three hours? Then all was lost, all was for naught. She looked at her hands, ugly purple bruises spreading far up each finger, burning under the ice peppers as if they were on fire. She was allowed to take the peppers off but she couldn't muster the strength to work out the pins, or to crawl over to the bucket of water to dilute the vicious juices. She sagged down, hands laid carefully in front of her so the pins were disturbed as little as possible, and cried.

-0-

A little later Verin heard a woman scream and plead. She couldn't tell who it was, the voice was distorted through the closed door and regularly broke. Was it Alviarin, or Sheriam, or even Mesaana? She didn't know, and for all but the last, she could not even feel satisfaction about the fact that Shaidar Haran was clearly displeased with whoever it was. She knew what she had tried to do would have caused over two hundred Aes Sedai to be Stilled and executed, but it was necessity, she couldn't and never would relish their pain.

Soon after, the screams stopped and Shaidar Haran returned. Verin was still in the same position on the floor. She raised her head.

"The al'Vere girl should be taken care of," Shaidar Haran said, and smiled in response as she sighed. He walked over to her, knelt down next to her as he had when she had just been resurrected.

"So you haven't cleaned up yet. These won't get any better if you leave them like this." He flicked one of the pins stuck through her flesh, and she inhaled sharply. "You bear pain well, few people have lasted even half as long."

Verin glared down at the floor. What did he want now, he had won, did he expect her to thank him for the compliment? It was irrelevant how long she had lasted compared to others, it had not been enough.

"Playing dumb again I see. No matter, I am sure you have told me all I needed to know." He ran a finger down her back, stroking softly. "I reward those who serve me well." Then he dug in his nails, sharp as knives. She felt the skin part, the cut so sharp it was not even truly painful just yet. "But I always punish those who disobey me," he continued in the same tone of voice.

Verin remained silent, the cuts on her back were nothing compared to what she had been through before. Abruptly Shaidar Haran got up.

"Tomorrow morning you start your duties as my servant. What shape your fingers are in is no concern of mine."

Now Verin looked at him, wide-eyed. With anything short of Healing, any manual labor was going to be agony for days. But she did not doubt he would force her to do the work, and he would even if she still had the pins through her fingers. She looked down at her hands, shuddered, then raised her right hand and took the pin protruding from her thumb in her teeth, pulled. She hissed in pain as the pin came free, and blood started to trickle from the wound. But there was a slight, ever so slight, relief too when the ice pepper fell away from the exposed nail bed. One down, only nine to go.

Once again she steeled herself and tried to remain stoic as she pulled out the pins one by one. Sometimes a moan or hiss escaped her, but she did not cry out, and in spite of feeling utterly exhausted, to the point where her hand shook each time she lifted it, she did not pass out.

Shaidar Haran stood watching her all the time. When she pulled the last pin out, he nodded at her. "Very sensible." At the same time, the bucket of water lifted from the floor and landed next to her.

Verin looked at it as if it were a viper about to strike her. Was this just another trick to break her? She wanted to shun the bucket, but her hands still burned. And he had already won, her life work was lost. What help would it be to the world if she resisted him, would she only hurt herself? She had always been proud of her ability to be sensible, and being stubborn when nothing was gained by it wasn't it. And even if she did yield now, that didn't mean she would have to do the same if there ever came another opportunity to fight. She put her hands into the cool water.