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！ The Way of the Leaf！ Please； Aram！ Please！〃
Aram danced with her； fending her off clumsily； trying to hold the sword away from her。 〃Why not？〃 he shouted angrily。 〃They killed Mother！ I saw them！ I might have saved her； if I had had a sword。 I could have saved her！〃
The words sliced at Perrin's chest。 A Tinker with a sword seemed an unnatural thing； almost enough to make his hackles stand； but those words。。。 。 His mother。 〃Leave him alone；〃 he said； more roughly than he intended。 〃Any man has a right to defend himself； to defend his。。。 He has a right。〃
Aram pushed the sword toward Perrin。 〃Will you teach me how to use it？〃
〃I don't know how；〃 Perrin told him。 〃You can find someone； though。〃
Tears rolled down Ila's contorted face。 〃The Trollocs took my daughter；〃 she sobbed； her entire body shaking； 〃and all my grandchildren but one； and now you take him。 He is Lost； because of you； Perrin Aybara。 You have bee a wolf in your heart； and now you will make him one； too。〃 Turning； she stumbled back up the steps； still racked with sobs。
〃I could have saved her！〃 Aram called after her。 〃Grandmother！ I could have saved her！〃 She never looked back； and when she vanished around the corner； he slumped against the banister； weeping。 〃I could have saved her； grandmother。 I could have。。。〃
Perrin realized Bode was crying； too； with her face in her hands； and the other women were frowning at him as though he had done something wrong。 No； not all of them。 Alanna studied him from the head of the stairs with that unreadable Aes Sedai calm； and Faile's face was nearly as blank。
Wiping his mouth； he tossed the napkin on the table and got up。 There was still time to tell Aram to put the sword back； to go ask Ila's pardon。 Time to tell him。。。 what？ That maybe next time he would not be there to watch his loved ones die？ That maybe he could just e back to find their graves？
He put a hand on Aram's shoulder； and the man flinched； hunching around the sword as if expecting him to take it。 The Tinker's scent carried a wash of emotions； fear and hate and bone…deep sadness。 Lost； Ila had called him。 His eyes looked lost。 〃Wash your face； Aram。 Then go find Tam al'Thor。 Say I ask him to teach you the sword。〃
Slowly the other man raised his face。 〃Thank you；〃 he stammered； scrubbing at the tears on his cheeks with his sleeve。 〃Thank you。 I will never forget this。 Never。 I swear it。〃 Suddenly he hoisted the sword to kiss the straight blade； the hilt had a brass wolfhead for a pommel。 〃I swear。 Is that not how it is done？〃
〃I suppose it is；〃 Perrin said sadly； wondering why he should feel sad。 The Way of the Leaf was a fine belief； like a dream of peace； but like the dream it could not last where there was violence。 He did not know of a place without that。 A dream for some other man； some other time。 Some other Age perhaps。 〃Go on； Aram。 You have a lot to learn； and there may not be much time。〃 Still bubbling thanks； the Tinker did not wait to wash his tears away； but ran straight out of the inn； carrying the sword upright before him in both hands。
Conscious of Eldrin's scowl and Marin's fists on her hips and Natti's frown； not to mention Bode's weeping； Perrin walked back to his chair。 Alanna had gone from her place at the top of the stairs。 Faile watched him pick up his knife and fork。 〃You disapprove？〃 he said quietly。 〃A man has a right to defend himself； Faile。 Even Aram。 No one can make him follow the Way of the Leaf if he doesn't want to。〃
〃I do not like to see you in pain；〃 she said very softly。
His knife paused in cutting a piece of goose。 Pain？ That dream was not for him。 〃I am just tired；〃 he told her； and smiled。 He did not think she believed him。
Before he had time to take a second mouthful； Bran stuck his head in at the front door。 He wore his round steel cap again。 〃Riders ing from the north； Perrin。 A lot of riders； I think it must be the Whitecloaks。〃
Faile darted away as Perrin rose； and by the time he was outside on Stepper； with the Mayor muttering to himself about what he meant to say to the Whitecloaks； she came riding her black mare around the side of the inn。 More people were running north than stayed at their tasks。 Perrin was in no particular hurry。 The Children of the Light might well be there to arrest him。 They probably were。 He did not mean to go along in chains； but he was not anxious to ask people to fight Whitecloaks for him。 He followed behind Bran； joining the stream of men and women and children crossing the Wagon Bridge across the Winespring Water； Stepper's and Swallow's hooves clattering on the thick planks。 A few tall willows grew here along the water。 The bridge was where the North Road began； than ran to Watch Hill and beyond。 Some of the distant smoke plumes had thinned to wisps as fires burned themselves out。
Where the road left the village； he found a pair of wagons blocking the road and men gathered behind pointed； slanting stakes with their bows and spears and such； smelling of excitement； murmuring to each other and all jammed together to watch what was ing down the road： a long double column of white…cloaked horsemen trailing a cloud of dust； conical helmets and burnished plate…and…mail shining in the afternoon sun； steel…tipped lances all at the same angle。 At their head rode a youngish man； stiff…backed and stern…faced； who looked vaguely familiar to Perrin。 With the arrival of the Mayor； the murmurs hushed expectantly。 Or maybe it was Perrin's arrival that quieted them。
Two hundred paces or so from the stakes； the stern…faced man raised a hand； and the column halted with sharp orders echoing down the files。 He came on with just half a dozen Whitecloaks for pany； running his eyes over the wagons and sharp stakes and the men behind。 His manner would have named him a man of importance even without the knots of rank beneath the flaring sunburst on his cloak。
Luc had appeared from somewhere； resplendent on his shiny black stallion in rich red wool and golden embroidery。 Perhaps it was natural enough that the Whitecloak officer chose to address himself to Luc； though his dark eyes continued to probe。 〃I am Dain Bornhald；〃 he announced； reining in； 〃Captain of the Children of the Light。 You have done this for us？ I have heard that Emond's Field is closed to the Children； yes？ Truly a village of the Shadow if it is closed to the Children of the Light。〃
Dain Bornhald； not Geofram。 A son； perhaps。 Not that it made any difference。 Perrin supposed one would try to arrest him as soon as another。 Sure enough； Bornhald's gaze swept past him； then jerked back。 A convulsion seemed to seize the man； one gauntleted hand darted to his sword； his lips peeled back in a silent snarl； and for a moment Perrin was sure the man was about to charge； fling his horse onto the spiky barrier； to reach him。 The man looked as if he bore Perrin a personal hatred。 Up close； that hard face had a touch of slackness to it； a shine in those eyes that Perrin was used to seeing in Bili Congar's。 He thought he could smell brandy fumes。
The hollow…cheeked man beside Bornhald was more than familiar。 Perrin would never forget those deep…set eyes； like dark burning coals。 Tall and gaunt and hard as an anvil； Jaret Byar truly did look at him with hate。 Whether or not Bornhald was a zealot； Byar surely was。
Luc apparently had the sense not to try usurping Bran's place … indeed； he appeared intent on examining the white…cloaked column as the dust settled； revealing more Children stretching up the road … to Perrin's disgust； though Bran looked to him … to the blacksmith's apprentice … waited for his nod before answering。 He was the Mayor！ Bornhald and Byar plainly took note of the silent exchange。
〃Emond's Field is not precisely closed to you；〃 Bran said； standing up straight with his spear propped out to one side。 〃We have decided to defend ourselves； and have this very morning。 If you want to see our work； look there。〃 He pointed toward the smoke rising from the Trollocs' pyres。 A sickly…sweet smell of burning flesh drifted in the air； but no one except Perrin seemed to notice。
〃You have killed a few Trollocs？〃 Bornhald said contemptuously。 〃Your luck and skill amaze me。〃
〃More than a few！〃 somebody called out of the Two Rivers crowd。 〃Hundreds！〃
〃We had a battle！〃 another voice cried； and dozens more shouted angrily on top of one another。
〃We fought them and won！〃
〃Where were you？〃
〃We can defend ourselves without any Whitecloaks！〃
〃The Two Rivers！〃
〃The Two Rivers and Perrin Goldeneyes！〃
〃Goldeneyes！〃
〃Goldeneyes！〃
Leof； who should have been over guarding the woodsmen； started waving that crimson wolfhead banner。
Bornhald's hot…eyed hate took them all in； but Byar danced his bay gelding forward with a snarl。 〃Do you farmers think you know battle？〃 he roared。 〃Last night one of your villages was all but wiped out by Trollocs！ Wait until they e at you in numbers； and you will wish your mother had never kissed your father！〃 He fell silent at a weary gesture from Bornhald； a fierce…trained dog o