Текст книги "Towers of midnight"

Автор книги: Robert Jordan

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Mills gasped. "What did you do to it?"

"Nothing," Rand said. "You merely opened the wrong sacks. The rest are all good."

"Merely…" Iralin said. "We happened to open the exact number of bad sacks without reaching one of the good ones? That's ridiculous."

"Not ridiculous," Rand said, laying his hand Iralin's shoulder. "Simply implausible. You did well here, Iralin. I'm sorry to have left you in such a predicament. I'm naming you to the Merchant Council."

Irilin gaped.

To the side, Captain Durnham pulled open another sack. "This one's good."

"So's this one," said one of his men.

"Potatoes here," another soldier said from beside a barrel. "Look as good as any I've had. Better than most, actually. Not dried up, like you'd expect from winter leftovers."

"Spread the word," Rand said to the soldiers. "Gather your men to set up distribution in one of the warehouses. I want this grain well guarded; Iralin was wise to worry that the people would rush the docks. Don't give out uncooked grain—that will turn people to hoarding and bartering with it. We'll need cauldrons and fires to cook some of it. Move the rest to stores. Hurry, now."

"Yes, sir!" Captain Durnham said.

"The people I've gathered so far will help," Rand said. "They won't steal the grain; we can trust them. Have them unload the ships and burn the bad grain. There should be thousands of sacks that are still good."

Rand looked to Min. "Come. I need to organize the Aes Sedai for Weaving." He hesitated, looking at the stunned Iralin. "Lord Iralin, you are steward of the city for now, and Durnham is your commander. You will soon have sufficient troops to restore order."

"Steward of the city…" Iralin said. "Can you do that?"

Rand smiled. "Somebody must. Hurry about your work; there is much to do. I can only remain here long enough for you to make things stable. A day or so."

Rand turned to climb up the ladder.

"A day?" Iralin said, still standing in the hold with Min "To get things stable? We can't possibly do it in that time. Can we?"

"I think you'll be surprised by him, Lord Iralin," Min said, gripping the ladder and starting to climb. "I am, each day."

CHAPTER 26

Parley

Perrin rode Stepper out of camp, leading a large army. They didn't fly the wolfhead banner. So far as he knew, his order to burn the things had been followed. He was less certain of that decision now.

There was an odd scent in the air. A staleness. Like the inside of a room that had been left locked up for years. Stepper trotted onto the Jehannah Road. Grady and Neald flanked Perrin directly, and they smelled eager.

"Neald, you sure you're ready?" Perrin asked as he turned the army to the southeast.

"I feel as strong as I ever have, my Lord," Neald answered. "Strong enough to kill some Whitecloaks. I've always wanted a chance to do that."

"Only a fool looks for a chance to kill," Perrin said.

"Br, yes, my Lord," Neald said. "Though, maybe I should mention—"

"No need to speak of that," Grady interrupted.

"What?" Perrin asked.

Grady looked embarrassed. "It's nothing, I'm sure." Say it, Grady," Perrin said.

The older man took a deep breath. "We tried to make a gateway this morning to send refugees back, and it didn't work. One time earlier, it happened, too. Weaves fell apart and unraveled on us."

Perrin frowned. "Other weaves work fine?"

"They do," Neald said quickly.

"Like I said, my Lord," Grady said. "I'm sure it will work when we try again. Just not enough practice."

It wasn't likely that they'd need Traveling to retreat from this battle—not with only two Asha'man and so large a force. But it was still disconcerting to lose the chance. It had better not happen with other weaves. He was depending on Grady and Neald to confuse and disrupt the initial Whitecloak charge.

Maybe we should turn back, Perrin thought, but squelched the thought immediately. He didn't like having to make this decision. It made him sick to think of fighting, man against man, when their real enemy was the Dark One. But his hand had been forced.

They continued on, his hammer in its strap at his side. Hopper had implied it was no different from the axe. To the wolf, one weapon was like another.

Mayener Winged Guards rode beside him, red-painted breastplates gleaming, looking like graceful hawks ready to swoop. Alliandre's soldiers, straightforward and determined, rode behind, like boulders poised to crush. Two Rivers longbowmen, like sapling oaks, were nimble yet sturdy. Aiel, like adders with razor teeth. Wise Ones, reluctantly drawn along, uncertain thunderheads boiling with unpredictable energy. He didn't know if they would fight for him.

The rest of his army was less impressive. Thousands of men with a range of experience and age—some mercenaries, some refugees from Maiden, some women who had seen the Maidens and Cha Faile and insisted on being trained alongside the men. Perrin hadn't stopped them. The Last Battle was coming. Who was he to forbid those who wanted to fight?

He had considered forbidding Faile to come today, but he'd known how that would turn out. Instead, he placed her at the back, surrounded by Wise Ones and Cha Faile, accompanied by Aes Sedai.

Perrin gripped his reins tighter, listening to the marching feet. Few of the refugees had armor. Arganda had called them light infantry. Perrin had another term for them: "innocents with blades." Why did they follow him? Couldn't they see that they would fall first?

They trusted him. Light burn them, they all trusted him! He rested his hand on his hammer, smelling the damp air mixed with fear and excitement. The thunder of hooves and footsteps, reminding him of the dark sky. Thunder with no lightning. Lightning with no thunder.

The battlefield was ahead, a broad green grassland lined on the far end by troops in white. That Whitecloak army wore silver breastplates shined to perfection, their tabards and cloaks a pure white. This grassy plain was a good place to have a battle. It would also be a good place to plant crops.

To understand a thing, you must understand its parts and its purpose.

What had been the purpose of his war axe? To kill. That was why it had been made. That was all it had been good for.

But the hammer was different.

Perrin pulled Stepper up sharply. Beside him, the Asha'man stopped, and the entire column of troops started to pull to a halt. Groups bunched up as they slowed; yelled orders replaced the sounds of marching.

The air was still, the sky overhead dreary. He couldn't smell the grass or the distant trees for the dust in the air and the men sweating in their armor. Horses snorted, a number of them nibbling at the grass. Others shuffled, catching the tension of their riders.

"My Lord?" Grady asked. "What is it?"

The Whitecloak army was already in position with a V formation of riders at the front. They waited, lances upright, ready to be lowered to spill blood.

"The axe only kills," Perrin said. "But the hammer can either create or kill. That is the difference."

It made sense to him, suddenly. That was why he'd needed to throw the axe away. He could choose not to kill. He would not be pushed into this.

He turned to Gaul, who stood with several Maidens a short distance away. "I want the Aes Sedai and Wise Ones up here now." Perrin hesitated. "Order the Aes Sedai, but ask the Wise Ones. Order the Two Rivers men up as well."

Gaul nodded and ran to do as asked. Perrin turned back to the Whitecloaks. For all their faults, the Whitecloaks considered themselves honorable. They wouldn't attack until Perrin was in position.

The cluster of Wise Ones and Aes Sedai joined him at the front. Faile, he noticed, rode with them. Well, he had told her to stay with them. He held out a hand to her, inviting her next to him. The Two Rivers men came up on the flank of his force.

"Gaul said you were very polite," Edarra noted to Perrin. "That means you want something from us that we will not want to do."

Perrin smiled. "I want you to help me prevent this battle."

"You do not wish to dance the spears?" Edarra asked. "I have heard some of what these men in white have done in the wetlands. I think they wear white to hide what is dark inside of them."

"They're confused," Perrin said. "Well, they're more than confused. They're Light-cursed frustrating. But we shouldn't be fighting them, not with the Last Battle coming. If we squabble among ourselves, we will lose to the Dark One."

Edarra laughed. "I would like to see someone tell that to the Shaido, Perrin Aybara. Or, rather, I would like to have seen someone suggest that to you when they still held your wife!"

"Well, the Shaido needed killing," he said. "But I don't know if these Whitecloaks do. Maybe they only need a good fright. I want you and the Aes Sedai to blast the ground in front of their army."

"You ask something you should not, Aybara," Seonid said sternly. "We will not take part in your battle. The diminutive Green met his eyes, voice crisp and curt.

"You're not taking part in battle," Perrin said. "You're preventing one."

Seonid frowned. "I'm afraid it would be the same, in this case. If we attack the earth, it would be using the One Power as a weapon. We could hurt those men. I'm sorry."

Perrin ground his teeth, but did not force them. The Wise Ones and Asha'man would probably be enough. He turned to the Two Rivers men. "Tam, tell the men to nock arrows and be ready to launch a volley."

Tam nodded, sending a runner with the order. The Two Rivers men lined up. This was beyond the range of most bows, but a good pull on a Two Rivers longbow could manage it.

Perrin nodded to the Wise Ones, then motioned toward the Asha'man. Before anything else could be said, the ground in front of the Whitecloaks erupted. A rumble shook the meadow, dirt exploding into the air. Grady and Neald moved their horses forward.

The Whitecloaks' horses reared and men shouted in terror. A small group of men at the very front didn't seem disturbed by the explosions, and they kept their horses under control. Those would be the leaders. Indeed, Perrin's eyes could make out the Lord Captain Commander himself sitting there.

Dirt sprayed into the air again, falling to pelt the trench beneath. The Wise Ones wore that look of concentration that came with channeling.

"Can one of you enhance my voice?" Perrin asked.

"I can do it," Grady said. "I saw the M'Hael do it once."

"Good," Perrin said, turning to Tam. "Once the channelers stop, tell the men to give me a couple of long volleys. Try and hit that trench."

A few moments later, the explosions ended. The Two Rivers men drew a volley and loosed it. Thick shafts rose in an arc, and soon the rift bristled with arrows. Perrin watched the Whitecloak army. They had broken ranks, standing in disorder.

A clank of armor matched by hoofbeats announced Arganda's arrival.

The First Captain of Ghealdan wore his plumed helm, his eyes hard beneath it. "What was the point of that, if I may ask, Lord Aybara?" He smelled Faile. "You just gave away our advantage! An ambush could have killed thousands and broken their initial charge."

"Yes," Perrin said. Faile still rode at his other side. "And they know it. Look at their lines, Arganda. They're worried. The Whitecloaks are realizing what they'd have to go through to charge us. If I was willing to give them this as a warning burst, what was I holding back?"

"But that was the extent of what we can do," Faile said.

"They don't know that." Perrin grinned. "It would be stupid of us to commit everything we have in a warning blast like that."

Arganda held his tongue, though he obviously was thinking that very thing. He was a soldier to the bone. An axe. There was nothing wrong with that, but Perrin had to be the hammer. When he pointed, men like Arganda killed.

"Grady," Perrin said. "My voice, please? I wouldn't mind if our army could hear what I say, too."

"I can manage that," Grady said.

Perrin took a deep breath, then spoke. "I am Perrin Aybara!" his voice boomed across the plain. "I am friend to the Dragon Reborn, and I serve here at his command. I am marching to the Last Battle. Lord Captain Commander, you demanded I meet with you on your terms before, and I came. I ask you to return the honor here, and meet as I request. If you are determined to kill me before I ride against the Shadow, at least do me the service of giving me one last chance to prevent spilling blood this day!"

He nodded to Grady, and the man released his weave. "Do we have a pavilion we could set up for parley?"

"Back at the camp," Faile said.

"I can try a gateway," Neald said, knuckling his mustache—or, at least, the thin bit of fur on his face that he called a mustache, waxed to points.

"Try it."

He concentrated. Nothing happened. The young man blushed furiously. "Doesn't work. Not Traveling or Skimming."

"I see," Perrin said. "Well, let's send a rider back. We should be able to have the tent set up here in minutes. I don't know if they'll agree to meet, but I want to get ready, in case they do. Bring Berelain and Alliandre back as well, and perhaps someone with drinks and the chairs and table from my tent."

The proper orders were given, and a Two Rivers man—Robb Solter—rode off, Maidens trailing after him. The Whitecloaks seemed to be considering his proposition. Good.

Arganda and most of the others spread out to pass the word about what was happening, though they couldn't possibly have missed Perrin's announcement. Everyone seemed to be doing what they should, so Perrin sat back in his saddle to wait.

Faile 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.

Many of the Children did not believe this. They called the stories of the Three Oaths deliberate fabrications. They hadn't lived in the White Tower. Galad didn't like most Aes Sedai, and he certainly didn't trust them, but he knew that the oaths did hold.

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 said, nudging 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."

"But you're still going?" Bornhald asked.

"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.

Unlike their last meeting, there were Aes Sedai here, three whom he could spot. A short Cairhienin woman; a slim, pleasant-looking woman in a simple dress; a stocky woman whose numerous braids meant she was likely from Tarabon. They stood with the group of Aiel women in shawls, guarded by a handful of Maidens of the Spear. Well, those Aiel did give credence to the claim that Aybara had been sent by the Dragon Reborn.

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 to concentrate on his foe.

Those golden eyes were as unsettling as he remembered. So strange to look into. Yes, this man couldn't be anything other than Shadowspawn.

Why would so many follow such a creature? Why would she follow such a creature?

"Thank you for coming," Aybara said. "Our last meeting was hasty. We'll do it proper, this time. You should be made aware that this woman beside me is Alliandre Maritha Kigarin, Queen of Ghealdan, Blessed of the Light, Defender of Garen's Wall." So, that stately, dark-haired woman was the current Queen of Ghealdan. Of course, with the unrest here lately, there were probably a half-dozen people trying to claim the throne. She was pretty, but completely overshadowed by Berelain.

Perrin nodded toward a third woman. "This is Faile ni Bashere t'Aybara, my wife and cousin to the Queen of Saldaea." Aybara's wife regarded Galad with suspicion. Yes, she was obviously Saldaean, by that nose. Bornhald and Byar hadn't known of her royal connections.

Two monarchs in the tent, and both behind Aybara. Galad rose from his seat and gave a bow to Alliandre to match the one he'd given Berelain. "Your Majesty."

"You're very polite, Lord Captain Commander," Berelain said. "And those were elegant bows. Tell me, where did you receive such training?"

Her voice was like music. "In the court of Andor, my Lady. I am Galad Damodred, stepson of the departed Queen Morgase and half-brother of Elayne Trakand, the rightful Queen."

"Ah," Perrin said. "About time I put a name to you. Wish you'd said that last time."

Berelain stared into his eyes, and she smiled, looking as if she wanted to step forward. She caught herself, however. "Galad Damodred. Yes, I thought I recognized something in your face. How is your sister?"

"I hope she is well," Galad said. "I have not seen her in some time."

"Elayne's fine," Perrin said gruffly. "Last I heard—which was only a few days back—she'd secured her claim to the throne. I wouldn't be surprised if she's looking to marry Rand by now. If she can pull him away from whatever realm he's conquering."

Behind Galad, Byar hissed softly. Had Aybara intended insult by indicating a relationship between Elayne and the Dragon Reborn? Unfortunately, Galad knew his sister all too well. She was impulsive, and she had shown an unseemly fascination with young al'Thor.

"My sister may do as she wishes," Galad said, surprised at how easily he contained his annoyance at both her and the Dragon Reborn. "We are here to discuss you, Perrin Aybara, and your army."

Aybara leaned forward, laying two hands on the table. "We both know this isn't about my army."

"What is it about, then?" Galad asked.

Aybara met his gaze with those unnatural eyes of his. "It's about a pair of Children of the Light I killed two years back. Now every time I turn around, it seems that there is a group of you snapping at my heels."

It wasn't often that a murderer was so open about what he had done. Galad heard the rasp of a sword being drawn behind him, and raised a hand. "Child Bornhald! You will control yourself!"

"Two Children of the Light, Shadowspawn?" Bornhald spat. "And what of my father?"

"I had nothing to do with his death, Bornhald," Aybara said. "Geofram was killed by the Seanchan, unfortunately. For a Whitecloak, he seemed like a reasonable man, though he was planning to hang me."

"He was to hang you for the murders you just confessed to," Galad said calmly, shooting a glance at Bornhald. The man snapped his sword back in its sheath, but his face was red.

"They weren't murders," Aybara said. "They attacked me. I fought back."

"That is not what I have heard," Galad said. What game was this man playing? "I have sworn testimony that you were hiding underneath a cleft in the rock. When the men asked you to come out, you jumped out screaming and attacked them without provocation."

"Oh, there was provocation," Aybara said. "Your Whitecloaks killed a friend of mine."

"The woman who was with you?" Galad asked. "From what I hear, she escaped safely." He'd been shocked when Bornhald had mentioned that name. Egwene al'Vere. Another woman who seemed to prefer dangerous company.

"Not her," Perrin said. "A friend named Hopper. And after him, a companion of his. They were wolves."

The man was condemning himself further! "You make friends of wolves, known to be creatures of the Shadow?"

"Wolves aren't of the Shadow," Aybara said. "They hate Shadowspawn as much as any man I've known."

"And how do you know this?"

Aybara said nothing further. There was more there. Byar said this man seemed able to command wolves, run with them, like a wolf himself. That testimony was part of what had persuaded Galad that battle was the only recourse. It seemed that Byar's words had not been exaggeration.

But there was no need, yet, to dwell on that. Aybara had admitted to murder. "I don't accept the killing of wolves as something to exonerate you," Galad said. "Many hunters slay wolves who attack their flocks or threaten their lives. The Children did nothing wrong. Your attack on them, therefore, was unprovoked murder."

"There was far more to it than that," Aybara said. "But I doubt I'll convince you of that."

"I cannot be convinced of something that isn't true," Galad said.

"And you won't leave me alone, either," Aybara said.

"We are at an impasse, then," Galad said. "You have confessed to crimes that I, as a servant of justice, must see righted. I cannot walk away. You see why I felt further parley was useless?"

"What if I were willing to stand trial?" Perrin asked.

Aybara's bold-nosed wife rested a hand on his shoulder. He reached up and laid his hand on it, but did not turn away from Galad.

"If you will come and accept punishment from us for what you've done…" Galad said. It would mean execution. Surely the creature wouldn't give himself up.

At the back of the pavilion, a group of servants had arrived and were preparing tea. Tea. At a war parley. Obviously Aybara had little experience with this kind of thing.

"Not punishment," Aybara said sharply. "A trial. If I am proven innocent, I go free and you—the Lord Captain Commander—instruct your men to stop hounding me. Especially Bornhald and that one behind you who growls like a pup seeing his first leopard."

"And if you are proven guilty?"

"That depends."

"Don't listen to him, my Lord Captain Commander!" Byar said. "He promised to give himself to us once before, then betrayed his word!"

"I did not!" Aybara said. "You did not fulfill your part of the bargain!"

Galad slapped the table. "This is useless. There will be no trial."

"Why not?" Aybara demanded. "You talk of justice, but won't offer me a trial?"

"And who would judge it?" Galad asked. "Would you trust me to do so?"

"Of course not," Perrin said. "But Alliandre can. She's a queen."

"And your companion," Galad said. "I mean her no insult, but I fear she would acquit you without hearing evidence. Even the Lady First would not be adequate—though I would, of course, trust her word, I fear that my men would not."

Light, but that woman was beautiful! He glanced at her for a moment, and found her blushing as she regarded him. It was faint, but he was sure he saw it. He found himself blushing as well.

"The Aes Sedai, then," Aybara said.

Galad tore his eyes away from Berelain and looked at Aybara, giving him a flat stare. "If you think that a judgment by one from the White Tower would satisfy my men, you know little of the Children of the Ligh Perrin Aybara."

Aybara's eyes grew hard. Yes, he knew that. It was too bad. A trial would have been a tidy end to this. A serving woman approached the table with two cups of tea, but there was no need. This second parley was over.

"You're right, then," Aybara said, looking frustrated. "This meeting was pointless."

"No," Galad said, stealing another glance at Berelain. "Not pointless for me." He knew more of Aybara's strength; that would help him in battle. Beyond that, it had been right to delay fighting for a short time to make certain it was needed. There was still plenty of light in the day for the fighting to proceed.

But… what of that woman… the Lady First? He forced himself to look away. It was difficult.

Galad stood, and bowed to Alliandre, then to Berelain. He moved to leave.

Then he heard a gasp. Oddly, it came from the serving woman who had brought the tea. Galad glanced at her.

It was Morgase.

Galad froze, completely still. He'd been trained by swordmaster after swordmaster never to let his surprise overwhelm him, but at that moment, their careful training was for naught. That was his stepmother. That red-gold hair he had tugged as a child. That face, so beautiful and strong. Those eyes. Those were her eyes.

A ghost? He had heard the stories. Manifestations of the Dark One's evil returning the dead to life. But nobody else in the pavilion seemed uneasy, and this woman was too real. Hesitantly, Galad reached out and touched the apparition on the cheek. The skin was warm.

"Galad?" she said. "What are you doing here? How—"

She cut off as he seized her in an embrace, causing those around him on both sides to jump in surprise. She jumped, too. She lived! How?

I killed Valda, Galad thought immediately. Killed him for the death of my mother. Who is not dead. I have done evil.

No. Valda had deserved to die for the assault on Morgase. Or was that part true? He had spoken to Children sure that it was, but they'd also been sure she was dead.

He would sort that out later. Right now, he needed to stop embarrassing himself in front of his men. He released his stepmother, but she kept hold of his arm. She looked dazed. He had rarely seen her that way.

Perrin Aybara had stood up and was watching them with a frown. "You know Maighdin?"

"Maighdin?" Galad asked. She wore a simple dress and no jewelry. Was she trying to hide as a servant? "Aybara, this is Morgase Trakand, Defender of the Realm, Protector of the People, High Seat of House Trakand. She is your queen!"

That brought a stillness to the pavilion. Aybara scratched at his beard thoughtfully. His wife watched Morgase with eyes wide, either shocked or angry.