Towers of Midnight (The Wheel of Time #13)
Page 143Faile sidled her horse up to him. She smelled intrigued.
“What?” Perrin asked.
“Something’s changed about you. I’m trying to figure out what.”
“I’m stalling,” Perrin said. “I haven’t made any decisions yet. But I don’t want to kill these men. Not yet. Not unless I have to.”
“They’re not going to give any ground, husband,” Faile said. “They’ve already judged you.”
“We’ll see,” he said. He looked up at the sky, thinking of the strange scent and the fact that the Asha’man gateways weren’t working. Slayer was prowling this area in the wolf dream and there was that wall of glass. Something felt very wrong on the wind, and his senses itched at him. Be wary. Be prepared.
The hammer could kill or create. He didn’t know which situation this was yet. He didn’t intend to strike until he did.
Galad sat on the grassy plain that should have been a field of battle, looking at the trench torn in the ground, bristling with hundreds of arrows.
He was prepared for Aes Sedai. An Aes Sedai could not hurt someone unless she or her Warder was in danger, and Galad had given very specific orders to his people not to engage—or even go near—Aes Sedai. If the Children saw Aes Sedai, they were to stop and nod their heads, turning their weapons away. If his men showed plainly that they would not harm Aes Sedai, then the sisters should be useless in battle.
Galad’s men moved back into line, muttering. He raised his looking glass, inspecting Aybara’s front line. Men in black coats. Several Aiel women, including one of those who had come with Aybara to their first meetings. A channeler, no doubt. He imagined the ground exploding beneath his charging forces, knocking the cavalry into the air, others falling into the trench while the later lines stalled in confusion, prey to those impressive longbows.
Bornhald rode up to Galad, his face angry. “We aren’t really going to parley, are we?”
Galad lowered his looking glass. “Yes. I think we are.”
“But we already met with him!” Bornhald said. “You said you wanted to see those eyes, as proof he was Shadowspawn, and you saw them. What more do you need?”
Byar nudged his mount closer. He often acted as a guard to Galad, these days. “He can’t be trusted, my Lord Captain Commander.”
Galad nodded at the trench. “He could have destroyed us with that attack.”
“I agree with Byar,” Bornhald said. “He wants to draw you out, then kill you to demoralize us.”
Galad nodded slowly. “That’s possible.” He turned to Lord Captain Harnesh, who rode nearby. “If I die, I want you to take command and charge. Attack without mercy; I repeal my order to avoid Aes Sedai. Kill anyone who seems to be channeling. Make it a priority. It’s possible that we do not understand what is happening here.”
“Yes,” Galad said. He had let Bornhald and Byar goad him into battle, but now he wondered if he’d been too hasty. He had seen those eyes, and had heard the testimonies of both his Children and some of those who had ridden with Aybara. It had seemed clear that attacking was the thing to do.
But Aybara was right. He had come to meet with Galad when asked. Perhaps there was a way to prevent bloodshed. Galad did not believe it, but if there was even a chance, then delaying was the right thing. It was as simple as that.
Bornhald did not seem pleased. His anger at the man who had killed his father was understandable, but it could not be allowed to guide the Children. “You may come with me,” Galad said, nudging his horse forward. “That goes for you as well, Child Byar. The Lords Captain should remain behind, scattered through the men, lest Aybara leave us without leaders.”
Harnesh saluted. Bornhald reluctantly fell into place beside Galad, as did Byar, whose eyes burned with a wild zeal that matched Bornhald’s anger. Both had experienced defeat and indignity at the hands of this Perrin Aybara. Galad also took fifty Children as guards, riding in formation behind him.
A pavilion was set up by the time they arrived. Flat topped and simple, it had four poles stretching the brownish gray canvas. There was a small square table under it, accompanied by two chairs.
Aybara sat on one side of the table. He stood up as Galad approached; today, the large man wore a green coat and brown trousers—both well crafted but plain—and had that hammer slung at his waist. The clothes had an earthy sensibility to them. No, this was not a man of palaces, but a man of fields and forests. A woodsman who had risen to be a lord.
A pair of Two Rivers men stood at the back of the pavilion, holding powerful Two Rivers longbows. They were said to be independent farmers and herdsmen of old, sturdy stock. And they had chosen this Perrin Aybara to lead them.
Galad walked toward the pavilion. Byar and Bornhald joined him, though the other fifty remained mounted outside.
Galad rested his hand casually on the pommel of his sword, looking over the pavilion’s other occupants.
And then he froze. A strikingly beautiful woman stood behind Aybara’s chair. No, not beautiful, gorgeous. Lustrous black hair streamed down past her neck; it seemed to shine. She wore a red gown, thin enough to accentuate her form and deeply cut enough to expose swelling bosom.
And those eyes. So dark, with long beautiful lashes. He seemed…pulled toward them. Why hadn’t this woman come last time?
“You appear surprised,” Aybara said as he sat back down. He had a gruff voice. “The Lady First is here at the Lord Dragon’s command, as I am. Didn’t you notice the flag of Mayene above my forces?”
“I…” Galad snapped his mouth closed, executing a bow to the woman. Berelain sur Paendrag Paeron? She was said to be a marvelous beauty, but those tales did her little justice. Galad tore his eyes from her and forced himself to take the seat opposite Aybara. He had t