'Galad,' Morgase said. 'Your men may tell their side of the story.'
Galad nodded to Byar. He stood, and another Whitecloak—a young man with a completely bald head— stepped forward to join him. Bornhald remained seated.
'Your Grace,' Byar said, 'it happened about two years ago. During the spring. An unnaturally cold spring, I remember. We were on our way back from important business at the command of the Lord Captain Commander, and we were passing through the wilderness of central Andor. We were going to camp for the night at an abandoned Ogier stedding, at the base of what was once an enormous statue. The kind of place you assume will be safe.'
Perrin remembered that night. A chill east wind blowing across him, ruffling his cloak as he stood by a pool of fresh water. He remembered the sun dying silently in the west. He remembered staring at the pool in the waning light, watching the wind ruffle its surface, holding the axe in his hands.
That blasted axe. He should have thrown it away right then. Elyas had persuaded him to keep it.
'When we arrived,' Byar continued, 'we found that the campsite had been used recently. That concerned us; few people knew of the stedding. We determined, from the single firepit, that there were not many of these mysterious wayfarers.'
His voice was precise, his description methodical. That wasn't how Perrin remembered the night. No, he remembered the hiss of the flames, sparks fluttering angrily into the air as Elyas dumped the teapots contents into firepit. He remembered a hasty sending from the wolves flooding his mind, confusing him. The wolves' wariness had made it hard to separate himself from them. He remembered the smell of fear on Egwene, the way he fumbled with Bela's saddle as he cinched it. And he remembered hundreds of men who smelled wrong. Like the Whitecloaks in the pavilion. They smelled like sick wolves who snapped at anything that got too close. 'The Lord Captain was worried,' Byar continued. He was obviously not mentioning the captain's name, perhaps to spare Bornhald. The young Whitecloak captain sat perfectly still, staring at Byar as if he didn't trust himself to look at Perrin. 'He thought that maybe the camp had been used by brigands. Who else would douse their fire and vanish the moment someone else approached? That's when we saw the first wolf.'
Hiding, breath coming in quick short gasps, Egwene huddled beside him in the dark. The scent of campfire smoke rising from her clothing and from his. Bela breathing in the darkness. The sheltering confines of an enormous stone hand, the hand of Artur Hawkwing's statue, which had broken free long before.
Dapple, angry and worried. Images of men in white with flaming torches. Wind, darting between the trees.
'The Lord Captain thought the wolves were a bad sign. Everyone knows they serve the Dark One. He sent us to scout. My team searched to the east, looking through the rock formations and shards of the enormous broken statue.'
Pain. Men shouting. Perrin? Will you dance with me at Sunday? If we're home by then…
'The wolves started to attack us,' Byar said, voice growing hard. 'It was obvious that they were no ordinary creatures. There was too much coordination to their assaults. There seemed to be dozens of them, moving through the shadows. There were men among them, striking and killing our mounts.'
Perrin had watched it with two sets of eyes. His own, from the vantage of the hand. And the eyes of the wolves, who only wanted to be left alone. They had been wounded earlier by an enormous flock of ravens. They'd tried to drive the men away. Scare them.
So much fear. Both the fear of the men and the fear of the wolves. It had ruled that night, controlling both sides. He could remember fighting to remain himself, bewildered by the sendings.
'That night stretched long,' Byar said, voice growing softer, yet full of anger. 'We passed a hillside with a massive flat rock at the top, and Child Lathin said he thought he saw something in the shadows there. We stopped, holding forward our lights, and saw the legs of a horse beneath the overhang. I gave Lathin a nod, and he stepped forward to order whoever was in there down to identify themselves.
'Well, that man—Aybara—came out of the darkness with a young woman. He was carrying a wicked axe, and he walked calmly right up to Lathin, ignoring the lance pointed at his chest. And then…'
And then the wolves took over. It was the first time it had happened to Perrin. Their sendings had been so strong that Perrin had lost himself. He could remember crushing Lathin's neck with his teeth, the warm blood bursting into his mouth as if he'd bitten into a fruit. That memory had been Hoppers, but Perrin couldn't separate himself from the wolf for the moments of that fight.
'And then?' Morgase prompted.
'And then there was a fight,' Byar said. 'Wolves leaped from the shadow and Aybara attacked us. He didn't move like a man, but like a beast, growling. We subdued him and killed one of the wolves, but not before Aybara had managed to kill two of the Children.'
Byar sat down. Morgase asked no questions. She turned to the other Whitecloak who had stood with Byar.
'I have little to lend,' the man said. 'I was there, and I remember it exactly the same way. I want to point out that when we took Aybara into custody, he was already judged guilty. We were going to—'
'That judgment is of no concern to this trial,' Morgase said coldly.
'Well, then, allow my voice to be the testimony of a second witness. I saw it all, too.' The bald Whitecloak sat down.
Morgase turned to Perrin. 'You may speak.'
Perrin stood up slowly. 'Those two spoke truly, Morgase. That's about how it happened.'
'About?' Morgase asked.
'He's nearly right.'
'Your guilt or innocence hangs on his 'nearly,' Lord Aybara. It is the measure by which you will be judged.'
Perrin nodded. 'That it does. Tell me something, Your Grace. When you judge someone like this, do you try to understand their different pieces?'
She frowned. 'What?'
'My master, the man who trained me as a blacksmith, taught me an important lesson. To create something, you have to understand it. And to understand something, you have to know what it is made of.' A cool breeze blew through the pavilion, ruffling cloaks. That matched the quiet sounds from the plains outside—men shifting in armor and horses stamping, coughs and occasional whispers as his words were passed through the ranks.
'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
