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 Dark-friend, 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 heard wolves in my head.
"Well, none of that is an excuse, and I don't mean it to be one. I killed those men, but they attacked my friends. When the men went hunting for wolf pelts, the wolves fought back." He stopped. They needed the whole truth. "To be honest, Your Grace, I wasn't in control of myself. I was ready to surrender. But with the wolves in my head. ... I felt their pain. Then the Whitecloaks killed a dear friend of mine, and I had to fight. I'd do the same thing to protect a farmer being harassed by soldiers."
"You're a creature of the Shadow!" Bornhald said, rising again. "Your lies insult the dead!"
Perrin turned toward the man, holding his eyes. The tent fell silent, and Perrin could smell the tension hanging in the air. "Have you never realized that some men are different from you, Bornhald?" Perrin asked. "Have you ever tried to think what it must be like to be someone else? If you could see through these golden eyes of mine, you'd find the world a different place."
Bornhald opened his mouth as if to spit out another insult, but licked his lips, as if they had grown dry. "You murdered my father," he finally said.
"The Horn of Valere had been blown," Perrin said, "the Dragon Reborn fought Ishamael in the sky. Artur Hawkwing's armies had returned to these shores to dominate. Yes, I was in Falme. I rode to battle alongside the heroes of the Horn, alongside Hawkwing himself, fighting against the Seanchan. I fought on the same side as your father, Bornhald. I've said that he was a good man, and he was. He charged bravely. He died bravely."
The audience was so still they seemed statues. Not a one moved. Bornhald opened his mouth to object again, but then closed it.
"I swear to you," Perrin said, "under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, that I did not kill your father. Nor had I anything to do with his death."
Bornhald searched Perrin's eyes, and looked troubled.
"Don't listen to him, Dain," Byar said. The scent of him was strong, stronger than any other in the pavilion. Frenzied, like rotten meat. "He did kill your father."
Galad still stood, watching the exchange. "I've never understood how you know this, Child Byar. What did you see? Perhaps this should be the trial we hold."
"It is not what I saw, Lord Captain," Byar said. "But what I know. How else can you explain how he survived, yet the legion did not! Your father was a valiant warrior, Bornhald. He would never have fallen to the Seanchan!"
"That's foolishness," Galad said. "The Seanchan have beaten us over and over again. Even a good man can fall in battle."
"I saw Goldeneyes there," Byar said, gesturing toward Perrin. "Fighting alongside ghostly apparitions! Creatures of evil!"
"The Heroes of the Horn, Byar," Perrin said. "Couldn't you see that w
e were fighting alongside the Whitecloaks?"
"You seemed to be," Byar said wildly. "Just as you seemed to be defending the people in the Two Rivers. But I saw through you, Shadowspawn! I saw through you the moment I met you!"
"Is that why you told me to escape?" Perrin said softly. "When I was confined in the elder Lord Bornhald's tent, following my capture. You gave me a sharp rock to cut my bonds and told me that if I ran, nobody would chase me."