Towers of Midnight (The Wheel of Time #13)

“I should report,” Padra said to Ronam, “that the Seanchan patrol was where we thought. We engaged them.”

There were uncomfortable mumbles about that.

“It is not against the Dragon’s Peace for them to enter Arad Doman,” said Tavalad, clan chief of the Goshien Aiel.

“Nor is it wrong for us to kill them for getting too close, clan chief,” Padra replied. “The Aiel are not bound by the Dragon’s Peace. If the Seanchan wish to risk inspecting our camp, then they need to know that it is a risk.”

Several of the others—more than she would have expected—nodded at that comment. She glanced at Janduin, and he raised an eyebrow. She covertly raised two fingers. Two Seanchan, dead by her spear. She would have liked to take them captive, but the Seanchan did not deserve to become gai’shain. They also made terrible prisoners. Better to spare them the shame and let them die.

“We should speak what we came to say,” said Alalved, chief of the Tomanelle Aiel. Padra did a quick count. All eleven chiefs were accounted for, including those who had blood oaths against one another. A meeting like this hadn’t been seen in years, not since her father had been preparing for the Last Battle.

“And what did we come to say?” asked one of the others.

Alalved shook his head. “The spears grow restless. The Aiel are not meant to grow fat in lush lands, tending crops. We are warriors.”

“The Dragon asked for peace,” Tavalad said.

“The Dragon asked others for peace,” Alalved replied. “He excluded the Aiel.”

“That is true,” said Darvin, chief of the Reyn.

“Do we return to raiding one another after all of these years of holding our blood feuds in abeyance?” Ronam asked softly. He was an excellent clan chief, much as Rhuarc had been. Wise, yet not afraid of battle.

“What would be the point?” asked Shedren, chief of the Daryne Aiel.

Others nodded. But that raised a larger problem, one her mother had often spoken of. What was it to be Aiel, now that their duty to the past had been fulfilled, their toh as a people cleansed?

“How long can we wait,” Alalved said, “knowing that they have Aiel women captive with those bracelets of theirs? It has been years, and they still continue to refuse all offers of payment and barter! They return our civility with rudeness and insults.”

“We are not meant to beg,” said aged Bruan. “The Aiel will soon become milk-fed wetlanders.”

All nodded at his words. Wise Bruan had lived through the Last Battle.

“If only the Seanchan Empress…” Ronam shook his head, and she knew what he was thinking. The old empress, the one who had ruled during the days of the Last Battle, had been considered a woman of honor by Ronam’s father. An understanding had nearly been reached with her, so it was said. But many years had passed since her rule.

“Regardless,” Ronam continued, “the spears clash; our people fight when they meet. It is our nature. If the Seanchan won’t listen to reason, then what cause do we have to leave them be?”

“This peace of the Dragon’s will not last long, anyway,” Alalved said. “Skirmishes between the nations are common, though none speak of them. The Car’a’carn required promises of the monarchs, but there is no enforcement. Many wetlanders cannot be held at their word, and I worry that the Seanchan will devour them while they squabble.”

There were many nods. Only Darvin and Tavalad did not seem convinced.

Padra held her breath. They had known this was coming. The skirmishes with the Seanchan, the restlessness of the clans. She had dreamed of this day, but feared it as well. Her mother had gained great ji in battle. Padra had had few chances to prove herself.

A war with the Seanchan…the prospect invigorated her. But it would also mean much death.

“What say the Dragon’s children?” Ronam asked, looking at the four of them.

It still seemed strange that these elders looked to her. She checked on saidar, comfortable in the back of her mind, and drew strength from it. What would she do without it?

“I say that we must reclaim our own who are held by the Seanchan,” said Marinna. She was training to become a Wise One.

Alarch seemed uncertain, and he glanced at Janduin. Alarch often deferred to his brother.

“The Aiel must have a purpose,” Janduin said, nodding. “We are useless as we are, and we made no promise not to attack. It is a testament to our patience and respect for my father that we have waited this long.”

Eyes turned to Padra. “They are our enemies,” she said.

One by one, the men in the room nodded. It seemed such a simple event to end years of waiting.

“Go to your clans.” Ronam stood up. “Prepare them.”

Padra remained seated as the others said their farewells, some somber, others excited. Seventeen years was too long for the Aiel to be without battle.

Soon, the tent was empty save for Padra. She waited, staring at the rug before her. War. She was excited, but another part of her was somber. She felt as if she had set the clans on a path that would change them forever.

“Padra?” a voice asked.

She turned to see Ronam standing in the entryway to the tent. She blushed and stood. Though he was ten years her senior, he was quite handsome. She’d never give up the spear, of course, but if she did….

“You seem worried,” he said.

“I was simply thinking.”

“About the Seanchan?”

“About my father,” she replied.

“Ah.” Ronam nodded. “I remember when he first came to Cold Rocks Hold. I was very young.”

“What was your impression of him?”

“He was an impressive man,” Ronam said.

“Nothing else?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Padra, but I did not spend much time with him. My path led me elsewhere. I…heard things, from my father, though.”

She cocked her head.

Ronam turned and looked out the open tent flaps, toward the green grass beyond. “My father called Rand al’Thor a clever man and great leader, but one who did not know what to do with the Aiel. I remember him saying that when the Car’a’carn was among us, he did not feel like one of us. As if we made him uncomfortable.” Ronam shook his head. “Everyone else was planned for, but the Aiel