“Regardless,” Ronam continued, “the spears clash; our people fight when they meet. It is our nature. If the Seanchan won’t listen to reason, then what cause do we have to leave them be?”

“This peace of the Dragon’s will not last long, anyway,” Alalved said. “Skirmishes between the nations are common, though none speak of them. The Car’a’carn required promises of the monarchs, but there is no enforcement. Many wetlanders cannot be held at their word, and I worry that the Seanchan will devour them while they squabble.”

There were many nods. Only Darvin and Tavalad did not seem convinced.

Padra held her breath. They had known this was coming. The skirmishes with the Seanchan, the restlessness of the clans. She had dreamed of this day, but feared it as well. Her mother had gained great ji in battle. Padra had had few chances to prove herself.

A war with the Seanchan…the prospect invigorated her. But it would also mean much death.

“What say the Dragon’s children?” Ronam asked, looking at the four of them.

It still seemed strange that these elders looked to her. She checked on saidar, comfortable in the back of her mind, and drew strength from it. What would she do without it?

“I say that we must reclaim our own who are held by the Seanchan,” said Marinna. She was training to become a Wise One.

Alarch seemed uncertain, and he glanced at Janduin. Alarch often deferred to his brother.

“The Aiel must have a purpose,” Janduin said, nodding. “We are useless as we are, and we made no promise not to attack. It is a testament to our patience and respect for my father that we have waited this long.”

Eyes turned to Padra. “They are our enemies,” she said.

One by one, the men in the room nodded. It seemed such a simple event to end years of waiting.

“Go to your clans.” Ronam stood up. “Prepare them.”

Padra remained seated as the others said their farewells, some somber, others excited. Seventeen years was too long for the Aiel to be without battle.

Soon, the tent was empty save for Padra. She waited, staring at the rug before her. War. She was excited, but another part of her was somber. She felt as if she had set the clans on a path that would change them forever.

“Padra?” a voice asked.

She turned to see Ronam standing in the entryway to the tent. She blushed and stood. Though he was ten years her senior, he was quite handsome. She’d never give up the spear, of course, but if she did….

“You seem worried,” he said.

“I was simply thinking.”

“About the Seanchan?”

“About my father,” she replied.

“Ah.” Ronam nodded. “I remember when he first came to Cold Rocks Hold. I was very young.”

“What was your impression of him?”

“He was an impressive man,” Ronam said.

“Nothing else?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Padra, but I did not spend much time with him. My path led me elsewhere. I…heard things, from my father, though.”