The Wheel of Time

by Robert Jordan

  “I’ve come to see something lately,” Perrin said. “Men are made up of a lot of different pieces. Who they are depends on what situation you put them in. I had a hand in killing those two men. But to understand, you have to see the pieces of me.”

  He met Galad’s eyes. The young Whitecloak captain stood with a straight back, hands clasped behind his back. Perrin wished he could catch the man’s scent.

  Perrin turned back to Morgase. “I can speak with wolves. I hear their voices in my mind. I know that sounds like the admission of a madman, but I suspect that many in my camp who hear it won’t be surprised. Given time, I could prove it to you, with the cooperation of some local wolves.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Morgase said. She smelled of fear. The whispers from the armies grew louder. He caught Faile’s scent. Worry.

  “This thing I can do,” Perrin said. “It’s a piece of me, just as forging iron is. Just as leading men is. If you’re going to pass judgment on me because of it, you should understand it.”

  “You dig your own grave, Aybara,” Bornhald said, rising and pointing. “Our Lord Captain Commander said he could not prove you were a Darkfriend, and yet here you make the case for us!”

  “This doesn’t make me a Darkfriend,” Perrin said.

  “The purpose of this court,” Morgase said firmly, “is not to judge that allegation. We will determine Aybara’s culpability for the deaths of those two men, and nothing else. You may sit, Child Bornhald.”

  Bornhald sat angrily.

  “I have yet to hear your defense, Lord Aybara,” Morgase said.

  “The reason I told you what I am—what I do—is to show you that the wolves were my friends.” He took a deep breath. “That night in Andor…it was terrible, as Byar said. We were scared, all of us. The Whitecloaks were scared of the wolves, the wolves were scared of the fire and the threatening motions the men made, and I was plain scared of the world around me. I’d never been out of the Two Rivers before, and didn’t understand why I heard wolves in my head.

  “Well, none of that is an excuse, and I don’t mean it to be one. I killed those men, but they attacked my friends. When the men went hunting for wolf pelts, the wolves fought back.” He stopped. They needed the whole truth. “To be honest, Your Grace, I wasn’t in control of myself. I was ready to surrender. But with the wolves in my head…. I felt their pain. Then the Whitecloaks killed a dear friend of mine, and I had to fight. I’d do the same thing to protect a farmer being harassed by soldiers.”

  “You’re a creature of the Shadow!” Bornhald said, rising again. “Your lies insult the dead!”

  Perrin turned toward the man, holding his eyes. The tent fell silent, and Perrin could smell the tension hanging in the air. “Have you never realized that some men are different from you, Bornhald?” Perrin asked. “Have you ever tried to think what it must be like to be someone else? If you could see through these golden eyes of mine, you’d find the world a different place.”

  Bornhald opened his mouth as if to spit out another insult, but licked his lips, as if they had grown dry. “You murdered my father,” he finally said.

  “The Horn of Valere had been blown,” Perrin said, “the Dragon Reborn fought Ishamael in the sky. Artur Hawkwing’s armies had returned to these shores to dominate. Yes, I was in Falme. I rode to battle alongside the heroes of the Horn, alongside Hawkwing himself, fighting against the Seanchan. I fought on the same side as your father, Bornhald. I’ve said that he was a good man, and he was. He charged bravely. He died bravely.”

  The audience was so still they seemed statues. Not a one moved. Bornhald opened his mouth to object again, but then closed it.

  “I swear to you,” Perrin said, “under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, that I did not kill your father. Nor had I anything to do with his death.”

  Bornhald searched Perrin’s eyes, and looked troubled.

  “Don’t listen to him, Dain,” Byar said. The scent of him was strong, stronger than any other in the pavilion. Frenzied, like rotten meat. “He did kill your father.”

  Galad still stood, watching the exchange. “I’ve never understood how you know this, Child Byar. What did you see? Perhaps this should be the trial we hold.”

  “It is not what I saw, Lord Captain,” Byar said. “But what I know. How else can you explain how he survived, yet the legion did not! Your father was a valiant warrior, Bornhald. He would never have fallen to the Seanchan!”

  “That’s foolishness,” Galad said. “The Seanchan have beaten us over and over again. Even a good man can fall in battle.”

  “I saw Goldeneyes there,” Byar said, gesturing toward Perrin. “Fighting alongside ghostly apparitions! Creatures of evil!”

  “The Heroes of the Horn, Byar,” Perrin said. “Couldn’t you see that we were fighting alongside the Whitecloaks?”

  “You seemed to be,” Byar said wildly. “Just as you seemed to be defending the people in the Two Rivers. But I saw through you, Shadowspawn! I saw through you the moment I met you!”

  “Is that why you told me to escape?” Perrin said softly. “When I was confined in the elder Lord Bornhald’s tent, following my capture. You gave me a sharp rock to cut my bonds and told me that if I ran, nobody would chase me.”

  Byar froze. He seemed to have forgotten that until this moment.

  “You wanted me to try to get away,” Perrin said, “so that you could kill me. You wanted Egwene and me dead very badly.”

  “Is this true, Child Byar?” Galad asked.

  Byar stumbled. “Of course…of course not. I….” Suddenly, he spun and turned to Morgase atop her simple throne of judgment. “This trial is not about me, but him! You have heard both sides. What is your answer? Judge, woman!”

  “You should not speak to my mother so,” Galad said quietly. His face was impassive, but Perrin smelled danger on him. Bornhald, looking very troubled, had sat back down and was holding his head with his hand.

  “No, it is all right,” Morgase said. “He is right. This trial is about Perrin Aybara.” She turned from Byar to regard Perrin. He looked back calmly. She smelled…as if she were curious about something. “Lord Aybara. Do you feel you have spoken adequately for yourself?”

  “I was protecting myself and my friends,” Perrin said. “The Whitecloaks had no authority to do as they did, ordering us out, threatening us. You know their reputation as well as any, I suspect. We had good reason to be wary of them and disobey their orders. It wasn’t murder. I was just defending myself.”

  Morgase nodded. “I will make my decision, then.”

  “What of having others speak for Perrin?” Faile demanded, standing.

  “That won’t be needed, Lady Faile,” Morgase said. “So far as I can tell, the only other person we could interview would be Egwene al’Vere, which doesn’t seem within the reasonable bounds of this trial.”

  “But—”

  “It is enough,” Morgase interrupted, voice growing cold. “We could have a dozen Children name him Darkfriend and two dozen of his followers laud his virtues. Neither would serve this trial. We are speaking of specific events, on a specific day.”

  Faile fell silent, though she smelled furious. She took Perrin’s arm, not sitting back down. Perrin felt…regretful. He had presented the truth. But he wasn’t satisfied.

  He hadn’t wanted to kill those Whitecloaks, but he had. And he’d done it in a frenzy, without control. He could blame the wolves, he could blame the Whitecloaks, but the honest truth was that he had lost control. When he’d awoken, he’d barely remembered what he had done.

  “You know my answer, Perrin,” Morgase said. “I can see it in your eyes.”

  “Do what you must,” Perrin said.

  “Perrin Aybara, I pronounce you guilty.”

  “No!” Faile screamed. “How dare you! He took you in!”

  Perrin put a hand on her shoulder. She’d been reaching for her sleeve by reflex, aiming for the knives there.

  “Th
is has nothing to do with how I personally feel about Perrin,” Morgase said. “This is a trial by Andoran law. Well, the law is very clear. Perrin may feel that the wolves were his friends, but the law states that a man’s hound or livestock is worth a certain price. Slaying them is unlawful, but killing a man in retribution is even more so. I can quote the very statutes to you if you wish.”

  The pavilion was silent. Neald had risen halfway from his chair, but Perrin met his eyes and shook his head. The Aes Sedai and Wise Ones wore faces that betrayed nothing. Berelain looked resigned, and dark-haired Alliandre had one hand to her mouth.

  Dannil and Azi al’Thone moved up to Perrin and Faile, and Perrin did not force them to back down.

  “What does this matter?” Byar demanded. “He’s not going to abide by the judgment!”

  Other Whitecloaks stood, and this time Perrin couldn’t stare down all those on his side who did likewise.

  “I have not passed sentence yet,” Morgase said, voice crisp.

  “What other sentence could there be?” Byar asked. “You said he’s guilty.”

  “Yes,” Morgase said. “Though I believe there are further circumstances relevant to the sentencing.” Her face was still hard, and she smelled determined. What was she doing?

  “The Whitecloaks were an unauthorized military group within the confines of my realm,” Morgase said. “By this light, while I do rule Perrin guilty of killing your men, I rule the incident subject to the Kainec protocol.”

  “Is that the law that governs mercenaries?” Galad asked.

  “Indeed.”

  “What is this?” Perrin asked.

  Galad turned to him. “She has ruled that our altercation was a brawl between unemployed mercenary groups. Essentially, the ruling states there were no innocents in the clash—you are not, therefore, charged with murder. Instead, you have killed illegally.”

  “There’s a difference?” Dannil asked, frowning.

  “One of semantics,” Galad said, hands still clasped behind his back. Perrin caught his scent; it was curious. “Yes, this is a good ruling, Mother. But the punishment is still death, I believe.”

  “It can be,” Morgase said. “The code is much more lenient, depending on the circumstances.”

  “Then what do you rule?” Perrin asked.

  “I do not,” Morgase said. “Galad, you are the one responsible for the men killed, or the closest we have. I will pass sentencing on to you. I have given the ruling and the legal definitions. You decide the punishment.”

  Galad and Perrin locked eyes across the pavilion. “I see,” Galad said. “A strange choice, Your Grace. Aybara, it must be asked again. Will you abide by the decisions of this trial that you yourself suggested? Or must this be settled with conflict?”

  Faile tensed at his side. Perrin could hear his army moving behind him, men loosening swords in their sheaths, muttering. The word passed through them as a low hum. Lord Perrin, named guilty. They’re going to try to take him. We won’t let it happen, will we?

  The bitter scents of fear and anger mixed in the pavilion, both sides glowering at one another. Above it all, Perrin could smell that wrongness to the air.

  Can I continue to run? he thought. Hounded by that day? There were no coincidences with ta’veren. Why had the Pattern brought him here to confront these nightmares from his past?

  “I will abide by it, Damodred,” Perrin said.

  “What?” Faile gasped.

  “But,” Perrin said, raising a finger, “only so long as you promise to delay execution of this punishment until after I have done my duty at the Last Battle.”

  “You’ll accept judgment after the Last Battle?” Bornhald asked, sounding befuddled. “After what may be the end of the world itself? After you’ve had time to escape, perhaps betray us? What kind of promise is that?”

  “The only kind I can make,” Perrin said. “I don’t know what the future will bring, or if we’ll reach it. But we’re fighting for survival. Maybe the world itself. Before that, all other concerns are secondary. This is the only way I can submit.”

  “How do we know you’ll keep your word?” Galad asked. “My men name you Shadowspawn.”

  “I came here, didn’t I?” Perrin asked.

  “Because we had your people captive.”

  “And would Shadowspawn give one hair’s worry about that?” Perrin asked.

  Galad hesitated.

  “I swear it,” Perrin said. “By the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth. By my love of Faile and on the name of my father. You’ll have your chance, Galad Damodred. If you and I both survive until the end of this, I’ll submit to your authority.”

  Galad studied him, then nodded. “Very well.”

  “No!” Byar cried. “This is foolishness!”

  “We leave, Child Byar,” Galad said, walking to the side of the pavilion. “My decision has been made. Mother, will you attend me?”

  “I’m sorry, Galad,” Morgase said. “But no. Aybara is making his way back to Andor, and I must go with him.”

  “Very well.” Galad continued on.

  “Wait,” Perrin called. “You didn’t tell me what my punishment will be, once I submit.”

  “No,” Galad said, still walking. “I didn’t.”

  Chapter 35

  The Right Thing

  “You understand what you are to do?” Egwene asked, walking toward her rooms in the White Tower.

  Siuan nodded.

  “If they do appear,” Egwene said, “you will not let yourself be drawn into a fight.”

  “We’re not children, Mother,” Siuan said dryly.

  “No, you’re Aes Sedai—nearly as bad at following directions.”

  Siuan gave her a flat look, and Egwene regretted her words. They had been uncalled-for; she was on edge. She calmed herself.

  She had tried several forms of bait to lure Mesaana out, but so far, there hadn’t been any nibbles. Egwene swore she could almost feel the woman watching her in Tel’aran’rhiod. Yukiri and her group were at a standstill.

  Her best hope was the meeting tonight. It had to draw her. Egwene didn’t have any time left—the monarchs she’d persuaded were already beginning to move, and Rand’s forces were gathering.

  Tonight. It must happen tonight.

  “Go,” Egwene said. “Speak with the others. I don’t want there to be any foolish mistakes.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Siuan grumbled, turning away.

  “And Siuan,” Egwene called after her.

  The former Amyrlin hesitated.

  “See to your safety tonight,” Egwene said. “I would not lose you.”

  Siuan often gave such concern a crusty reply, but tonight she smiled. Egwene shook her head and hurried on to her rooms, where she found Silviana waiting.

  “Gawyn?” Egwene asked.

  “There has been no news of him,” Silviana replied. “I sent a messenger for him this afternoon, but the messenger hasn’t returned. I suspect that Gawyn is delaying his reply to be difficult.”

  “He’s nothing if not stubborn,” Egwene said. She felt exposed without him. That was surprising, since she’d pointedly ordered him to stay away from her door. Now she worried about him not being there?

  “Double my guard, and make certain to have soldiers posted nearby. If my wards go off, they will raise a clatter.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Silviana said.

  “And send Gawyn another messenger,” she said. “One with a more politely worded letter. Ask him to return; don’t order him.” Knowing Silviana’s opinion of Gawyn, Egwene was sure the original letter had been brusque.

  With that, Egwene took a deep breath, then went into her rooms, checked on her wards, and prepared to go to sleep.

  I shouldn’t feel so exhausted, Perrin thought as he climbed down from Stepper. I didn’t do anything but talk.

  The trial weighed on him. It seemed to weigh upon the entire army. Perrin looked at them as they rode back into camp. Morgase was there, off on her own.
Faile had watched her the whole way back, smelling of anger, but not speaking a word. Alliandre and Berelain had kept their distance.

  Morgase had condemned him, but in truth, he didn’t much care. He had deflected the Whitecloaks; now he needed to lead his people to safety. Morgase rode through camp, seeking out Lini and Master Gill. They’d arrived safely, together with all the other captives, as Galad Damodred had promised. Surprisingly, he’d sent the supplies and carts with them.

  The trial was a victory, then. Perrin’s men didn’t seem to see it that way. The soldiers split into groups as they slunk back into camp. There was little talking.

  Beside Perrin, Gaul shook his head. “Two silver points.”

  “What’s that?” Perrin asked, handing Stepper to a groom.

  “A saying,” Gaul said, glancing up at the sky. “Two silver points. Twice we have run to battle and found no foe. Once more, and we lose honor.”

  “Better to find no foe, Gaul,” Perrin said. “Better no blood be shed.”

  Gaul laughed. “I do not say I wish to end the dream, Perrin Aybara. But look at your men. They can feel what I say. You should not dance the spears without purpose, but neither should you too often demand that men prepare themselves to kill, then give them nobody to fight.”

  “I’ll do it as often as I like,” Perrin said gruffly, “if it means avoiding a battle. I—”

  A horse’s hooves thumped the ground, and the wind brought him Faile’s scent as he turned to face her.

  “A battle avoided indeed, Perrin Aybara,” Gaul said, “and another invited. May you find water and shade.” He trotted away as Faile dismounted.

  Perrin took a deep breath.

  “All right, husband,” she said, striding up to him. “You will explain to me just what you thought you were doing. You let him pass judgment on you? You promised to deliver yourself to him? I wasn’t under the impression that I’d married a fool!”