He suddenly remembered his vision from the wolf dream. Sheep running in front of wolves. He’d thought himself one of the wolves. But could he have been wrong?
Light! He had been wrong about that. He knew what it meant, now. “I can feel it on the wind,” he said. “The problem with gateways, it’s related to something happening in the wolf dream. Somebody wants us to be unable to escape this place.”
A cold breeze, odd in the noonday heat, washed over them. “Are you certain?” Faile asked.
“Yes,” Perrin said. “Oddly, I am.”
“That’s where the Maidens are? Scouting?”
“Someone wants to trap us and attack. Makes most sense to let us clash with the Whitecloaks, then kill whoever survives. But that would require an army, of which there is no sign. Just us and the Whitecloaks. I have Elyas hunting out signs of a Waygate in the area, but he hasn’t found anything yet. So maybe there’s nothing, and I’m just jumping at shadows.”
“Lately, husband, it’s become likely that those shadows can bite. I trust your instincts.”
He looked to her, then smiled deeply. “Thank you.”
“So what do we do?”
“We ride to this trial,” Perrin said. “And do whatever we can to keep from going to battle with the Whitecloaks. Then tonight, I see if I can stop the thing that is preventing the gateways. We can’t just ride far enough away to escape it; the thing can be moved. I saw it in two places. I’ll have to destroy it, somehow. After that, we escape.”
She nodded, and Perrin gave the call to march. Though the force behind still seemed chaotic—like a rope that had been tangled—the army began to move. The various groups sorted themselves out, unraveling.
They made the short trip down the Jehannah Road, approaching the field with the pavilion. The Whitecloaks had already arrived; they were in formation. It looked as if they’d brought their entire army as well.
This was going to be a tense afternoon.
Gaul ran beside Perrin’s horse, and he didn’t seem worried, nor did he have his face veiled. Faile knew he thought it honorable for Perrin to go to trial. Perrin either had to defend himself or admit toh and accept judgment. Aiel had walked freely to their own executions to meet toh.
They rode down to the pavilion. A chair had been set on a low platform at the northern end, its back to the distant forest of leatherleaf. Morgase sat in the elevated chair, looking every inch a monarch, wearing a gown of red and gold that Galad must have found for her. How had Faile ever mistaken this woman for a simple lady’s maid?
Chairs had been placed in front of Morgase, and Whitecloaks filled half of them. Galad stood beside her makeshift throne of judgment. His every lock of hair was in place, his uniform without blemish, his cloak falling behind him. Faile glanced to the side and caught Berelain staring at Galad and blushing, looking almost hungry. She had not given up on her attempts to persuade Perrin to let her go make peace with the Whitecloaks.
“Galad Damodred,” Perrin called, dismounting before the pavilion. Faile dismounted and walked beside him. “I want you to promise me something before this begins.”
“And what would that be?” the young commander called from the open-sided tent.
“Vow not to let this turn to battle,” Perrin said.
“I could promise that,” Galad said. “But, of course, you’d have to promise me that you’re not going to run if the judgment falls against you.”
Perrin fell silent. Then he rested his hand upon his hammer.
“Not willing to promise it, I see,” Galad said. “I give you this chance because my mother has persuaded me that you should be allowed to speak in your defense. But I would sooner die than allow a man who has murdered Children to walk away unchallenged. If you do not wish this to turn to battle, Perrin Aybara, then present your defense well. Either that, or accept punishment.”
Faile glanced at her husband; he was frowning. He looked as if he wanted to speak the requested promise. She laid a hand on his arm.
“I should do it,” he said quietly. “How can any man be above the law, Faile? I killed those men in Andor when Morgase was Queen. I should abide by her judgment.”
“And your duty to the people of your army?” she asked. “Your duty to Rand, and to the Last Battle?” And to me?
Perrin hesitated, then nodded. “You’re right.” Then, louder, he continued, “Let’s be on with this.”
Perrin strode into the pavilion, joined immediately by Neald, Dannil and Grady. Their presence made Perrin feel like a coward; the way they stood made it obvious that they had no intention of letting Perrin be taken.
What was a trial, if Perrin would not abide by its determination? Nothing more than a sham.
The Whitecloaks watched tensely, their officers standing in the shade of the pavilion, their army at parade rest. They looked as if they had no intention of standing down during the proceedings. Perrin’s own forces—larger, but less orderly—responded by standing at the ready opposite the Whitecloaks.
Perrin nodded, and Rowan Hurn moved off to make certain Galad had released the captives. Perrin walked to the front of the pavilion, stopping just before Morgase’s elevated seat. Faile stayed by his side. There were chairs for him here, and he sat. Several steps to his left was Morgase’s stand. To his right, the people sat to watch the trial. His back was toward his army.
Faile—smelling wary—sat next to him. Others filed in. Berelain and Alliandre sat with their guards near him; the Aes Sedai and Wise Ones stood at the back, refusing seats. The last few seats were taken by a few of the Two Rivers men and some of the senior former refugees.
The Whitecloak officers sat down opposite them, facing Faile and Perrin. Bornhald and Byar at the front. There were about thirty chairs, likely taken from Perrin’s supplies that the Whitecloaks had appropriated.
“Perrin,” Morgase said from her seat. “Are you certain you want to go through with this?”
“I am,” he said.
“Very well,” she said, her face impassive, though she smelled hesitant. “I formally begin this trial. The accused is Perrin Aybara, known as Perrin Goldeneyes.” She hesitated. “Lord of the Two Rivers,” she added. “Galad, you will present the charges.”
“There are three,” Galad said, standing. “The first two are the unlawful murder of Child Lathin and the unlawful murder of Child Yamwick. Aybara is also accused of being a Darkfriend and of bringing Trollocs in