He turned toward her, the black flecks of saa swimming across his eyes. “You know why I have summoned you.” Not a question.

“I do.”

“Aran’gar is dead, lost to us—and after the Great Lord transmigrated her soul the last time. One might think you are making a habit of this sort of thing, Graendal.”

“I live to serve, Nae’blis,” she said. Confidence! She had to seem confident.

He hesitated just briefly. Good. “Surely you do not imply that Aran’gar had turned traitor.”

“What?” Graendal said. “No, of course not.”

“Then how is what you did a service?”

Graendal pasted a look of concerned confusion on her face. “Why, I was following the command I was given. Am I not here to receive an accolade?”

“Far from it,” Moridin said dryly. “Your feigned confusion will not work on me, woman.”

“It is not feigned,” Graendal said, preparing her lie. “While I did not expect the Great Lord to be pleased to lose one of the Chosen, the gain was obviously worth the cost.”

“What gain?” Moridin snarled. “You allowed yourself to be caught unaware, and foolishly lost the life of one of the Chosen! We should have been able to rely on you, of all people, to avoid stumbling over al’Thor.”

He didn’t know that she’d bound Aran’gar and left her to die; he thought this was a mistake. Good. “Caught unaware?” she said, sounding mortified. “I never…Moridin, how could you think that I’d let him find me by accident!”

“You did this intentionally?”

“Of course,” Graendal said. “I practically had to lead him by the hand to Natrin’s Barrow. Lews Therin never was good at seeing facts directly in front of his nose. Moridin, don’t you see? How will Lews Therin react to what he has done? Destroying an entire fortress, a miniature city of its own, with hundreds of occupants? Killing innocents to reach his goal? Will that sit easily within him?”

Moridin hesitated. No, he had not considered that. She smiled inwardly. To him, al’Thor’s actions would have made perfect sense. They were the most logical, and therefore most sensible, means of accomplishing a goal.

But al’Thor himself…his mind was full of daydreams about honor and virtue. This event would not sit easily within him, and speaking of him as Lews Therin to Moridin would reinforce that. These actions would tear at al’Thor, rip at his soul, lash his heart raw and bleeding. He would have nightmares, wear his guilt on his shoulders like the yoke of a heavily laden cart.

She could vaguely remember what it had been like, taking those first few steps toward the Shadow. Had she ever felt that foolish pain? Yes, unfortunately. Not all of the Chosen had. Semirhage had been corrupt to the bone from the start. But others of them had taken different paths to the Shadow, including Ishamael.

She could see the memories, so distant, in Moridin’s eyes. Once, she’d not been sure who this man was, but now she was. The face was different, but the soul the same. Yes, he knew exactly what al’Thor was feeling.