A visit to Shayol Ghul.
After Neald had left, Sheriam started the day's regular business, and around mid-morning Mesaana came in. She looked fully rested and no trace of her injury remained.
She was quite pleased Neald was taken, but the Seanchan bothered her. She ordered the Bloodknife and the sul'dam woman brought to her, then took them off to a separate room and returned almost an hour later.
"Breaking the key on the Dreamspike takes too long, I want the Tower protected by evening, we will strike at the Seanchan then. With the Tower under my control, the information about al'Thor's plans, and one of Aybara's men turned, I dare say I can demand it is given to me. The visit to the Black Tower and Demandred will have to wait, we will go to Shayol Ghul first."
Sheriam swallowed hard. She had never been to Shayol Ghul but she would have to face up to it eventually. And she trusted Mesaana. Oh, of course if she failed or made any major mistakes, the Chosen would punish her as hard as ever, but that was to be expected. She believed as long as she did well, Mesaana would not randomly endanger her. And if Mesaana wanted her to go with her to Shayol Ghul or anywhere else, then she had good reason for that.
"Yes, High Mistress," Sheriam replied steadily.
Like she had done before their visit to Malkier, Mesaana instructed her, then they told Egwene they would be gone for a short while.
Mesaana took a deep breath. Then she opened the gateway. Even as she stepped through, she let her Mask of Mirrors drop, and as soon as Sheriam had stepped through behind her, she released the Source.
Sheriam looked around. She stood on a slight slope at the foot of the mountain, which towered before them. There were cracks and holes everywhere in rough rock, with steam rising from them, but the air was cold, so cold it took an effort to ignore it. She glanced up at the sky above her, saw rolling clouds and flashes of lightning streaking up and down and between clouds, even though no thunder could be heard. And not too far from them stood a large forge, a group of bedraggled people huddled in front of it, guarded by a few Trollocs.
For the past couple days, she had tried to practice to take notice of her surroundings, but now she wished she could make herself stop looking instead. But she couldn't, there was nowhere to look except at the scene around her.
She looked on as a dark, slow moving manshape emerged from the forge. He held a long, pale blade in a pair of thongs, and walked to a small stream of thick, dark liquid that ran down the mountain beside the building. He stuck the blade into the stream, taking care not to touch the water himself, and the blade came out pitch black. Turning back towards the forge, he took one of the prisoners from the group, and led his victim inside. Moments later screams rose from the building, screams that faded slowly rather than being cut off. The group outside barely reacted, standing around numbly as if they were drugged. Drugged with fear perhaps, anything truly numbing their senses at that final moment would lessen the effect on the blade.
She had known how the Myrddraal's swords were made, and yet it was unsettling to see it happen before her. No matter how hard she tried to be strong, she had shuddered when the screams rang out. She tore herself away, turning around to look at the valley that stretched away behind them.
Not that Thakan'dar was a great improvement, the arid flats littered with rock and debris, the horizon shrouded in its eternal fog, it hardly made a pleasant scene to look at. But at least it was uninhabited. Or mostly so, she started at the sight of what looked like a small cottage and a couple of outbuildings built on the slope of one of the foothills close by. Who ever would live here?
The thought of someone actually living in this bleak, hostile area was even more disconcerting than the forging of the blades, and Sheriam turned back toward Shayol Ghul itself.
Mesaana stood, outwardly utterly calm, but Sheriam had noticed the deep breath she had taken before Traveling, and knew even the Chosen wasn't completely unaffected by this place, and the prospect of facing the Great Lord himself, even though she must have been here many times before. Or because of that, for Sheriam understood well enough that not all those visits had been pleasant.
They waited without a word. Mesaana had told her that while she knew the way into the mountain, these days there was a tall Myrddraal called Shaidar Haran who decided whether anyone could or could not see the Great Lord, and who spoke for Him here and elsewhere. Perhaps it lived in the eerie cottage in the valley, if it stayed here rather than in the barracks elsewhere in the Blight?
Sheriam's eye kept being drawn to the forgers, and the wait was long enough she observed small differences between them. The first one who had come out had quenched the blade, then taken one of the prisoners inside. A little later, another emerged who took his blade back inside first, before returning for one of the prisoners. And a third went back inside and did not reappear before the screams started, the victim apparently already inside while the forger worked on the blade.
It was uncanny to pay mind to the different ways the forgers worked, but better than to think about the prisoners and wonder whether any had come from Saldaean villages. Or whether their long wait meant the Great Lord was too displeased to hear Mesaana, would send them home or worse. No, better not let her thoughts drift. There, that forger took a prisoner as he held his just quenched blade, did that mean there were three of them at work or were there more who used the same method? Their methods was all that distinguished them, their faces, hair and clothing identical.
And then, without any warning, a voice like dry bones crumbling.
"Well, Mesaana. Considering the nature of your last visit here, I assume you have something good."
Sheriam did not wait for the Chosen's lead, but instantly dropped to her knees. Mesaana herself knelt just as quickly, but her voice was steady and clear.
"Yes, Lord, I do. I wish to speak to the Great Lord, I have important information."
"You can speak to me. Let's hear it." Sheriam hadn't known a Myrddraal's voice could sound so skeptical, and it took some effort not to flinch. That the skepticism was aimed at Mesaana made little difference, the Chosen had brought her here and if Shaidar Haran was displeased with Mesaana, she herself would hardly come away unscathed.
Mesaana clearly was more experienced at hiding her apprehension. While she was still kneeling -Shaidar Haran had not told her to get up- not a trace of hesitation could be heard in her voice as she told the Myrddraal how she now controlled the Tower, how they had learned about the Dragon's plans, and finally about the incident with the Dreamspike the previous night.
"The turnings have been felt, of course. Not strictly according to orders, and the Great Lord does not encourage creativity, but it seems to work. There is something to be said for greater numbers. About al'Thor, you will see Moridin and tell him what you just told me. The Dreamspike is yours to keep, tell Moridin to give you its key. I will take care of Graendal." Shaidar Haran paused for just a moment. "And one of Aybara's men taken, that is interesting. Kill the blacksmith and I will reward you."
"Yes, Lord," Mesaana replied.
Then Shaidar Haran walked over and stood directly in front of Sheriam. She dipped her head deeper in acknowledgment, but she was already bowed down as deep as was proper, and to bend further would be seen as a weakness rather than show greater respect.
"And why have you brought this?" the Myrddraal inquired.
If she had ever thought this Myrddraal was only a Myrddraal, the way it spoke of her would have quickly dissuaded her from that notion. She concentrated on not flinching.
"Sheriam is my second in command," Mesaana replied. "She needs to learn."
"An interesting choice."
"A choice made out of necessity at the time, but one that worked out well," Mesaana answered.
"Look at me," the dry voice commanded.
Sheriam looked up. Her heart beat wildly as the Myrddraal's eyeless gaze met hers and she felt an icy cold spread throughout her body, but she managed to look back and not blink. After an eternity, just as she felt she couldn't stand it a moment longer, Shaidar Haran turned away.
"Yes, interesting indeed. Rise, both of you, and I will transport you to Moridin's place. He has no Dreamspike but he has set some rather nasty traps against the uninvited, and he would not appreciate me telling you how to get around them."
Mesaana rose and so did Sheriam, making sure she was just a little behind Mesaana in getting up. As soon as they stood, their surroundings shimmered and changed. Sheriam started, she had never experienced this manner of Travel or even known it was possible, but clearly that was what had happened.
The place they had arrived in was sober, containing nothing but a number of plain, dark wooden chairs, most black with a few touches of red. The few windows had no glass in them and it was suffocating hot, especially after the icy cold of Shayol Ghul.
Even as they arrived, Mesaana channeled Air and Water, cooling the air around herself and Sheriam. Sheriam herself would not channel unless explicitly told to do so. Grateful for the cooler air, she looked around at the rest of her surroundings.
The walls of the room were a dark black stone, and at one end there was even a mantel set in them. It was hard to imagine this place being cold enough for a fire even in the heart of winter, but some desert places did get cold at night. She glanced at the windows, where a reddish light made it appear the strange fortress they had landed in was located in the middle of a pit of fire, but before she could move closer to see what was out there, the door opened and a man entered.
He was tall, with broad shoulders and black hair. Mesaana had not instructed her for this, the visit unexpected, but Sheriam knew it had to be Moridin when Mesaana respectfully bowed her head. Sheriam knelt deep, then raised herself up to one knee and remained like that as she sat behind Mesaana.
"I can't remember summoning you," Moridin said without so much as acknowledging Mesaana's greeting. His voice was deep and there was something eerie about his bright, blue eyes.
"Shaidar Haran sent me," Mesaana replied. "I have valuable information about al'Thor's plans."
"He did? Well, let's hear it." Moridin's voice was flat, disinterested.
He did not invite Mesaana to sit down and she did not do so uninvited. It was clear that while things had gone well these past few days, and she still stood above Moghedien and Cyndane, Mesaana did not stand high among the Chosen. Only when she told Moridin about the Dragon's visit to the White Tower did Moridin's expression slowly become one of slight interest.
"We will be able to take him either at the Field of Merillor or at Shayol Ghul," Mesaana finished.
"He must be allowed to come to Shayol Ghul," Moridin said decisively. "Before that he is not to be harmed."
"As you wish," Mesaana replied.
"See that you don't forget it," Moridin warned. "Semirhage did."
Mesaana frowned but did not reply to the remark.
"About the Tower, how come it is whole while I ordered it broken?" Moridin asked sharply. If the information about the dragon's plans had been welcomed by Shaidar Haran, Moridin seemed to care very little. Sheriam held her breath, somehow this man scared her more than Shaidar Haran had.
"It is whole but it is mine," Mesaana replied confidently.
"You said that before," Moridin remarked skeptically. "I see you have the Keeper of those so-called Aes Sedai again, but a lot of good that did you last time."
For the first time he as much as glanced at her, and Sheriam felt her breath catch in her throat. He really was worse than Shaidar Haran! His expression was one of utter disdain and she now noticed his eyes had small flecks of black in them, shooting across them constantly. Sheriam had never seen the like before, did not know what it meant.
"My previous claims may have been a bit premature," Mesaana admitted. "But no more. The Amyrlin and the entire Hall are mine, and they will not break free."
For a moment Moridin's face showed his skepticism, then he seemed to realize what she meant. "You turned them to the Great Lord? The al'Vere girl could be useful perhaps, but why take all those others, they can barely channel."
"By our standards. They are useful in numbers." Mesaana shrugged.
"Mesaana's Children indeed," Moridin smirked.
If Mesaana was affected by the insult, she did not show it. "Shaidar Haran also said you'd give me the key to the Dreamspike one of Graendal's minions carelessly allowed to be dropped on me last night," she said smoothly, changing the subject.
Moridin started. "That was supposed to trap Aybara," he burst out angrily.
"Obviously it didn't," Mesaana remarked. "It ended up in Tar Valon, where it hindered my people in their operations."
Sheriam noticed Mesaana did not mention she had been injured in the process, as she had to Shaidar Haran.
"Graendal is a bungling fool. I hope at least the other tool I lent her is still useable."
"The Man with Two Souls was wounded, but not seriously so. He should be fine," Mesaana replied. "More so than Graendal, Shaidar Haran mentioned he would see to her."
"Perhaps I will be able to add to my little collection," Moridin said, stroking two small, crystal and wire cubes he wore on a chain around his neck. "And speaking of punishments, would you like to see what became of your last pet Aes Sedai?"
"Alviarin?" Mesaana blinked. "You found her?"
"She found me, or rather she found Shaidar Haran," Moridin explained. "She foolishly thought he would approve of her escape from the Tower, saving herself and a few others high in the Black."
His tone made it abundantly clear how high he valued even those high in the Ajah.
"You have her here?" Mesaana asked. She gave a brief, grim smile. "Yes, I would like to see her."
"She has been providing me with some mild entertainment," Moridin replied. He gestured with his head. "Come, I will take you to her."
Moridin still had not directly addressed her, but Mesaana winked her with her hand, telling Sheriam to follow. She got up and stayed close to Mesaana while Moridin led the way through broad, stone halls.
The wide corridors were as bare as the room they had arrived in, tiled in red and black, and in one place became an open gallery, finally allowing Sheriam a view of the outside. An arid, red landscape showed, with fields of poor, struggling crops. On the far field a group of bedraggled people worked, with a number of black clad guardsmen watching their surroundings more than the workers. The sun shone down hard, causing the reddish light she had noticed earlier. As hot as it was in here, out in the sun it had to be almost unbearable. They had to be deep within the Blight, far beyond Shayol Ghul and Trakan'dar.
Mesaana seemed to pay no mind to her surroundings, although Sheriam now knew she always watched far closer than she appeared to do.
After a brief walk, they turned into a short, wide corridor at the end of which large, double doors were set in the stone. The doors were heavy, black wood and ornately carved, and opened before them as they approached. Did Moridin channel even to open a door? She followed the Chosen into a large throne room beyond.
Here, too, there was barely any furniture. A large throne done all in black sat on a dais, and against the wall stood a few tables that held such mundane items as a tea setting and writing implements. The walls were covered with tapestries, also done in reds and black, on each side were large doors leading elsewhere, and the tiled floor was patterned in the same colors.
And in the far corner, suspended in the air about a span above the floor, hung Alviarin. She was naked, her body was covered in angry red welts and sores, and she was hogtied, arms and legs held tightly in invisible bonds. She struggled as she saw the three of them come in, but she made no sound. She had to be gagged as well.
"You're lucky. Here's your chance to tell Mesaana how sorry you are for running off," Moridin said.
Alviarin's eyes opened wide and almost at the same time she crashed to the floor as Moridin released the bonds. With no way to catch herself, Alviarin smacked on the floor, flat on her stomach, and the bone cracked as she hit her chin on the tiles. She let out a gasp, lacking breath for a scream. Even so, she almost immediately started to struggle to get her hands and knees under her, moaning at the effort. How long had she been tied up in the air?
Sheriam had in the past week found the reports about Alviarin, knew she had been displaced as Keeper, served a penance harder than any she herself ever administered in her time as Mistress of the Novices, and then of course she had to face Mesaana with those failures hanging over her. Every woman had a breaking point, -at least any who hadn't been trained by the Aiel, she added, thinking of Egwene- and it no longer surprised her that Alviarin had ran off. But understanding and forgiveness weren't the same thing. She watched without pity as Alviarin dragged herself over to Mesaana's feet.
Blood trickled from her mouth and her voice was thick, almost unintelligible, but she pleaded. "Please take me back to the Tower, Great One, forgive me, take me from here, please."
Alviarin was bowed down far too low to see the Chosen's face, but if she could have, she might have known she would fare little better in Mesaana's hands. Sheriam however could see the Chosen's look of disgust, and when Alviarin came close enough to touch the hem of her skirts, she channeled and whipped her in the face with a lash of Air.
"Don't you touch me," she snapped.
Alviarin fell back with a desperate sob.
"I would like to take her with me," Mesaana said to Moridin, her voice icy daggers.
"No. I said she's been somewhat entertaining, and I don't share my toys," Moridin replied.
Even as he spoke, Alviarin was hoisted up into the air again, arms and legs forced behind her back. She struggled, her sobs becoming strangled from lack of breath even before she was gagged.
"You can however have the others who came with her, or two at least," Moridin continued casually. "The last one, -what was her name, she had long black hair?- was careless about checking her bedding and was bitten by a stick. But the others are still alive and of little use to me."
"Then I would like them back," Mesaana said.
Moridin walked over to the doors on the left, which opened onto a balcony overlooking the same fields Sheriam had seen earlier. Moments later, Evanellein and Melvara were deposited in front of Mesaana. Evanellien with a gasp, Melvara let out a startled squeak.
Even if Sheriam hadn't seen the laborers in the far field, it would've been clear the two sisters had been put to work under harsh circumstances. They were sunburned, their dresses which had been altogether too fine for work in the fields torn in several places, and a reddish dust covered skin and clothing alike. They both had a strip of cloth tied around their head, and streaks of sweat stained with more dirt ran down their face. Melvara wore boots which were scuffed but whole, but Evanellein's slippers were falling apart. And both had more strips of cloth wrapped around their hands, which were blood stained and covering what must be broken blisters from the hoes and other tools.
No matter how startled they were at being plucked from the fields in this manner, both sisters had immediately knelt down, bowing deep. They could not know Mesaana but they knew Moridin.
"I am Mesaana," the Chosen told them. "The two of you will return to the Tower with me."
Both sisters started, Melvara gasped and Evanellein looked up with a start before lowering her head even deeper to the ground.
"Forgive us for running, High Mistress," Evanellein said. "She did not tell us anything until it was too late to return, please believe us."
"If I had any doubt about that, you would be up in the air like her already," Mesaana replied. Ignoring the two sisters' stammered words of thanks and praise, she turned to Moridin. "The key before I leave?"
Moridin grimaced, clearly not all happy but even he could not go against an order of Shaidar Haran. "Spirit five six three overlaid by Water and Air right to left, then Earth fourteen as you open. No Fire."
Sheriam didn't understand a word of those instructions, but Mesaana nodded. "Then if I may?"
Moridin returned her nod and Mesaana channeled. A gateway to the Tower first. She stepped through and gestured for the two rescued sisters to follow. Likely Mesaana did not want Moridin to know they were also turning all the Black, something he could no doubt find out from Moghedien and Cyndane, but as long as they didn't take these two to Malkier directly, perhaps he would not think to ask.
The sisters were startled to appear in Sheriam's anteroom, and threw uneasy glances at the inner door.
"Egwene al'Vere is ours," Mesaana told them. "So is the Hall and a good part of the rest of the Tower. Not everyone yet, though, so I suppose we will quarter you elsewhere for the time being. Unless you think they could claim a kidnapping?" The last was addressed to Sheriam.
She shook her head. "Too close to what we did to Maigan and Annisha. Better to play it safe and take them to the farm, it will not be for very long."
Mesaana nodded. "The farm it is. Malkier first, of course. You secure them while I show the others how to use the key. Any Black and those you trust of the Turned should learn." She paused. "Except for Saerin, Marris, Karale, Atuan, Dawn, Irna and Cheryl. I need them for the raid on the Seanchan tonight and if any of them get captured, they should not know how to work the Dreamspike."
Even as she spoke, Mesaana opened the gateway to Malkier and Sheriam acknowledged the order as she followed. So did Evanellein and Melvara. The two Black sisters looked completely baffled but moved quickly enough, even when they saw the Myrddraal.
"We have been turning the sisters who fought for the Light to the Great Lord, but we also ensure the loyalty of the Black Ajah. It does no harm. Each of you watch as I secure the other, then after you get cleaned up and at the farm and are rested, you can both help with the circles," Sheriam told them.
She looked around to see which of the Yellow were present, and saw Talva and Larissa had noticed their arrival and the state the sisters were in, and were already coming over. The two Delved and channeled and the sunburn faded, as well as the blisters and other sores.
"If there is anything beyond rest and a change of clothing you need, Kerryn and Leesa will take care of it. They run the farm," Sheriam said.
"We will be fine," Melvara said, even as she unwound the strips of cloth from her hands and flexed her fingers. "But Katerine, she was bit by a Stick, it was terrible. It got her on the small of her back, we tried to Heal but the flesh turned black no matter how we tried to stop it." She shuddered visibly at the recollection.
"One more for Alviarin. That makes sixteen dead because she ran," Sheriam said grimly.
The circle gathered around her and she linked with the others.
"Who were caught?" Evanellein asked. "Moridin told us the number but he hardly cared for even our names."
Sheriam named them and Evanellein cursed.
"I should have known something was wrong. I knew the pressure Alviarin had been under. I take responsibility for the deaths of those in the Grey, it was my fault for following her blindly."
Sheriam considered. It wasn't generally accepted to question orders in the Black, some orders could be very harsh or unpleasant or inexplicable, and it was usually unwise to question the reasons behind them. On the other hand, it would have saved lives if Evanellein had refused to go with Alviarin. And the Sitter had not even been on Verin's list! But you just couldn't have it both ways.
"Whether it was or not, you have done enough penance in those fields. Take your place in the circle and watch closely so you can take part after you're rested."
Evanellein nodded. Melvara laid down on the table and Sheriam wove the turning. Then the two switched places. Some of the Black in the circle switched out as well, those already taught the key to the Dreamspike joining while others left the link to be taught by Mesaana. Again Sheriam enjoyed the rush of power from the full circle.
When she was done, Mesaana was also finished with her instructions. The Chosen called Talva over.
"See those two off to the farm, and teach the key to the Dreamspike to Leesa and Kerryn. They will need to know how to use it when necessary. We are returning to the Tower, continue as you were."
Talva knelt with a quick assurance she would do as ordered, and Mesaana turned back to Sheriam.
"Watch." she said, and she wove a brief but complicated series of flows before she Traveled. Sheriam looked on closely and registered them even as they stepped through into the countryside some distance north of Tar Valon. There, Mesaana wove the same key, followed by a slightly different gateway.
"This opens the way to Tel'aran'rhiod, it is rarely used. It is dangerous to enter in the flesh, even if you know what you are doing, and rarely necessary. We won't be entering either except to pick up this."
She stepped through, reached down into a thicket and returned into the real world holding a long spike.
"Now watch. I will show you how to activate and deactivate it." The Chosen channeled the flows of the key, then added Spirit as she twisted some of the wires the spike was made of. Then she did the same thing in reverse order.
"Turn it off, turn it on. Try it."
Sheriam took the spike and channeled carefully. She felt the wires loosen as she did -before they wouldn't budge.
"That's it," Mesaana said, satisfied. "We will take it to the Tower in the off position and teach those still working on the turnings the key before activating it. None of those who haven't been turned though, and none who can't fully be trusted. Let those who haven't been turned believe that only the Hall and a small group of sisters who will open gateways for the others from the Traveling grounds have been taught how to work it."
That was how the weaker sisters had to get around at all times, and where many of those not of the Black still had to return -they had not shared the use of the Eye with everyone, so not all knew how to return safely to a busy location. Some sisters would no doubt protest, not in the least place Lelaine -who, Sitter or no Sitter, Sheriam was not going to trust with the key- but she could deal with that. There had been unpopular decisions before. She acknowledged the order.
"It may be some effort to get to everyone without those who should not be taught catching on, but see to it that it is done today. I want to activate the Dreamspike this evening, before the raid on the Seanchan."
"It shall be done." Sheriam promised.
Mesaana was already opening the gateway back to Sheriam's anteroom.
"Tell Saerin, Dawn and Cheryl to come to the Aringill house. Nynaeve too, she has been at the Tarasin palace. Have them bring the Bloodknife and the sul'dam, I have most of the information I need but additional questions may come up."
"Yes, High Mistress." Sheriam set to work, sending novices out to find the Black and sending those out to find and teach others. She set up a schedule of those who would channel the gateways from the Traveling grounds, and designated a small plot in the city to be used as a Traveling area for those who came in from elsewhere. The Tower held more than a few properties not actually on the Tower grounds; grain storages, small plots of houses for retired servants, and other assorted properties that had been acquired at some point or other over the centuries. A small property with a large courtyard -perhaps it had once been a wagon yard- was located conveniently close to the Southharbor Road.
She sent the messages informing the sisters about the restricted travel and the use of the new traveling grounds out at the same time, which made for a good cover, since now all the sisters would receive a message. That the actual message was different for some, only the Black and the trusted turned would know.
-0-
Verin sat and rested on a bench in the main room of Shaidar Haran's house. She should start cooking for supper, it still took her long with her hands. Some fingers were healing, ten days after the torture session, but some had gotten infected, and the broken finger still hurt with every move. She had fashioned a splint from a piece of firewood but she had not succeeded in immobilizing it completely, and it was still painful to work with it.
She got up to walk to the kitchen when, seemingly out of nowhere, a naked woman appeared in the middle of the room. Travel with the True Power still startled her, completely unfelt and also without the usual door-like gateway even the men made using Saidin. Another one of the Black who had tried to betray the Dark One and was resurrected?
She did not recognize the woman. Sweat matted the blonde hair, long and curly, and her skin was an angry red, as if she had been scalded all over. Welts stood out in an even deeper red, and blood trickled from broken skin in more than a few places. Her eyes were closed, she was breathing but Verin was not sure whether she was conscious.
"Are you awake? Who are you?"
No response.
She approached, knelt down and carefully reached out, touching the woman's head as lightly as she could. The woman's eyes snapped open and she flinched as if even her scalp had been scalded underneath her hair -which was quite possible, Verin thought.
"Don't touch me, worm!"
Verin pulled back, aghast. Only the Forsaken would use that kind of tone, but she couldn't be, could she? For one moment, hope rose inside her, but no, the woman did not look like the descriptions of Mesaana. Not unless she had died and received a new body, too. Graendal?
"Tschk!" Shaidar Haran said from where he too had silently arrived. "You stand no higher than her, not anymore. I thought you would understand that after what I did to you, but perhaps I need be a little more clear?"
"No!" The woman screamed, her voice shrill and her eyes wide in panic. "No, please, no!"
Verin watched as the woman scrambled to her knees, shaking and pleading. She didn't judge her behavior, Verin had no way of knowing what had been done to her and she didn't doubt Shaidar Haran could break anyone if he desired to do so. She herself hadn't lasted anywhere near as long as she had foolishly thought she would.
Shaidar Haran did not move, apparently satisfied with the pleas and sobs. He waited until the pleas died down to a whimper, and longer.
Verin hardly dared to breathe. Shaidar Haran had not struck out at her at random, but only a fool would draw his attention. She started when he addressed her.
"Verin, show Graendal where you sleep, get her dressed, and get her straw and a horse blanket from the stables."
So it was Graendal. Verin glanced at her even as she knelt deep, noticed she was still shaking.
"Yes, High Master," she replied.
Shaidar Haran turned to Graendal. "Your work starts tonight. Verin will show you what needs be done, try not to mess up."
Without waiting for a reply, he left by the door, and Graendal let out an audible sigh.
Verin looked at her coldly. The Forsaken must have failed greatly to end up here! She felt a little hope, even if the Black Ajah and Mesaana were still free in the White Tower, at least elsewhere the Dark One was less successful.
"Come," Verin said, with a gesture of her head.
"Don't you dare give me orders," Graendal hissed.
"He ordered me to show you around, and that's what I'm going to do," Verin said decisively. She sounded more confident than she felt. She didn't relish sharing her predicament with one of the Forsaken, and she feared that if Graendal made it impossible to follow the orders Shaidar Haran had given, he would be indifferent who was to blame, instead would punish them both.
Fortunately Graendal must have realized the same thing, and she was not eager for more punishment either. She got up, slowly, wincing at every move. She glared, and Verin met her eye for a few moments before she turned and walked out of the room. She would not let herself be intimidated by Graendal, not anymore, not after what Shaidar Haran had said.
The house was small, a closet with maid's clothing and supplies between the kitchen and the door leading down to the cellars. Verin opened it, pulled out a linen shift and a rough, woolen dress. She handed them to Graendal, who took them with an expression of extreme distaste, then gasped and almost dropped the bundle as she flinched from the touch of the coarse fabric on her arms.
"I can't wear this!" Graendal exclaimed, horrified, and Verin thought the Forsaken was referring to the pure practical matter of putting the garments on her singed skin, as much as to the extreme humiliation for her to wear such a crude, simple dress.
Verin could have pointed out she could hardly remain naked, or that the results of defying an order would be even more painful, but Graendal knew all that. She watched impassively as Graendal shuddered, hesitated, then with an agonized gasp pulled the shift over her head, followed by the dress. The woman winced, twitching as if she were bitten by a hundred ants. Rough wool did prick, even on uninjured skin, but Verin felt no compassion. The Forsaken had done much worse to others, so now for once the tables were turned.
Moving on, Verin went into the kitchen, opened the door to the small den where she slept. She had no cot, no pillow, just a pile of straw and a blanket. Graendal stared at the small room, mouth open and eyes wide.
Going out through the back door, Verin went to the stables, returned with arms full of straw, then made a second trip, and finally went to fetch a blanket. One blanket, she knew enough to take orders literally, but at least Shaidar Haran had not said they couldn't have a decent pile of straw. Even though it had taken Verin some time to make the three trips to the stables, gathering the straw while trying to protect those fingers that were still the most painful, Graendal was still rooted in place. Verin tossed the blanket onto the pile.
"It was the cleanest I could find," she said. "It smells like horse, but no worse than that. You can wash it tomorrow and it'll dry in front of the fire before evening."
Graendal still looked as if she could not believe what was happening. She stared at the blanket, then finally turned to Verin and slowly shook her head.
"I can't sleep on that," the Forsaken said.
Verin gave her a cold look.
"You will be glad when you get to sleep on that," she said. "Believe me, it is better than the alternative."
She tried to sound indifferent but her voice shook a little at those last words. Shaidar Haran had summoned her three of the nights she had been here, and she could not think of his cold touch without a shudder. She knew the touch of even a regular Myrddraal could drive a woman insane, had once seen a victim who had been raped by a Fade whose mind was completely broken, but Shaidar Haran wanted her alive and fully aware of her situation. Verin reasoned he must shield her somehow against his influence, but what she felt was still bad enough, worse perhaps since she could not even hope to escape into madness.
Graendal looked blank for a moment, then the meaning of Verin's words dawned on her. Her eyes grew even larger, and her breathing came in short, audible gasps. "Oh!" she managed.
At that, Verin turned away, looked around the kitchen. "We'll worry about that later, it's not like we can stop him. Sit down -or stand if that's easier," she said, remembering Graendal's scalded skin, "and cut that meat for the stew. I will draw water and get the fire started in the stove."
Shaidar Haran had said Graendal's work started tonight, and strictly speaking it was still afternoon, but Graendal's arrival and getting her clothing and bedding had taken some time. If she still wanted to be done on time with supper all by herself, she would have to work at a speed that would hurt her hands badly. She hoped Graendal was too overwhelmed to notice this small discrepancy, and indeed, the woman picked up a cutting board and knife and set to work without a word, looking dazed. Verin grabbed the large iron kettle and started to pump water.