“Aviendha carries our honor,” Sorilea said.
“Do not be foolish, Rand al’Thor,” Melaine added.
“This is a thing of the women,” Sarinde added. “We will not be satisfied until we are treated equally with the wetlanders.”
“Is this thing too difficult for us?” Amys asked. “Do you insult us by implying we are weaker than the others?”
“You’re all insane!” Rand said. “Do you realize that this would forbid you from fighting one another?”
“Not from fighting,” Aviendha said. “From fighting without cause.”
“War is your purpose,” Rand said.
“If you believe that, Rand al’Thor,” she said, voice cold, “I have trained you poorly indeed.”
“She speaks wisdom,” Rhuarc said, stepping up to the front of the crowd. “Our purpose was to prepare for your need of us at this Last Battle—our purpose was to be strong enough to be preserved. We will need another purpose. I have buried blood feuds for you, Rand al’Thor. I would not take them up again. I have friends now that I would rather not kill.”
“Madness,” Rand said, shaking his head. “All right, I’ll put you in.”
Aviendha seemed satisfied, but something bothered Perrin. He didn’t understand the Aiel—Light, he didn’t understand Gaul, who had
been with him for so long. Still, he’d noticed that the Aiel liked to be doing something. Even when they lounged, they were alert. When other men gamed or diced, the Aiel were often quietly doing something of use.
“Rand,” Perrin said, stepping up, taking him by the arm. “A moment, please?”
Rand hesitated, then nodded to him and waved his hand. “We’re sealed off; they can’t hear us now. What is this about?”
“Well, I just noticed something. The Aiel are like tools.”
“All right…”
“And tools that aren’t used grow rusty,” Perrin said. “Which is why they raid one another,” Rand said, rubbing his temple. “To keep up their skills. That is why I exempted them. Light, Perrin! I think this is going to be a disaster. If we include them in this document…”
“I don’t think you have a choice, now,” Perrin said. “The others will never sign it if the Aiel are left out.”
“I don’t know if they’ll sign it anyway,” Rand said. He looked longingly at the sheet on the table. “It was such a beautiful dream, Perrin. A dream of good for humanity. I thought I had them. Right up until Egwene called my bluff, I thought I had them.”
It was a good thing others couldn’t smell Rand’s emotions, or everyone there would have known that he’d never refuse to go against the Dark One. Rand showed not a hint of it on his face, but inside, Perrin knew he had been as nervous as a boy at his first shearing.
“Rand, don’t you see?” Perrin said. “The solution.”
Rand frowned at him.
“The Aiel,” Perrin said. “The tool that needs to be used. A treaty that needs to be enforced…”
Rand hesitated, then grinned widely. “You’re a genius, Perrin.”
“So long as it’s about blacksmithing, I suppose I know a thing or two.”
“But this… this isn’t about blacksmithing, Perrin…”
“Of course it is,” Perrin said. How could Rand not see that?
Rand turned, no doubt ending his weave. He strode up to the document, then held it up toward one of his clerks in the back of the pavilion. “I want two provisions added. First, this document is void if not signed by either the Seanchan Daughter of the Nine Moons or the Empress. Second… the Aiel—all but the Shaido—are to be written into the document as enforcers of the peace and mediators of disputes between nations. Any nation may call upon them if they feel abused, and the Aiel—not enemy armies—will provide redress. They can hunt criminals across national borders. They are to be subject to the laws of the nations in which they reside at the time, but they are not subjects of that nation.”
He turned to Elayne. “There is your enforcement, Elayne, the way to keep your small pressures from building.”
“The Aiel?” she asked skeptically.