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 at the Last Battle."
"You'll accept judgment after the Last Battle?" Bornhald asked, sounding befuddled. "After what may be the end of the world itself? After you've had time to escape, perhaps betray us? What kind of promise is that?"
"The only kind I can make," Perrin said. "I don't know what the future will bring, or if we'll reach it. But we're fighting for survival. Maybe the world itself. Before that, all other concerns are secondary. This is the only way I can submit."
"How do we know you'll keep your word?" Galad asked. "My men name you Shadowspawn."
"I came here, didn't I?" Perrin asked.
"Because we had your people captive."
"And would Shadowspawn give one hair's worry about that?" Perrin asked.
Galad hesitated.
"I swear it," Perrin said. "By the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth. By my love of Faile and on the name of my father. You'll have your chance, Galad Damodred. If you and I both survive until the end of this, I'll submit to your authority."
Galad studied him, then nodded. "Very well."
"No!" Byar cried. "This is foolishness!"
"We leave, Child Byar," Galad said, walking to the side of the pavilion. "My decision has been made. Mother, will you attend me?"
"I'm sorry, Galad," Morgase said. "But no. Aybara is making his way back to Andor, and I must go with him."
"Very well." Galad continued on.
"Wait," Perrin called. "You didn't tell me what my punishment will be, once I submit."
"No," Galad said, still walking. "I didn't."
CHAPTER 35
The Right Thing