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
