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.

“This 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 a