“Yes, my Lord,” she said.

He’d never asked Aravine why she didn’t join one of the groups that had been sent back to Amadicia. It was probably because of the Seanchan, though. She was obviously noble, but didn’t say much of her past. He was glad to have her. As his camp steward, she was his liaison between the various factions that made up his army.

The Wolf Guard had drawn first lot, so they led the way through the gateway. The large column began to move. Perrin went down the line, giving orders, mostly reinforcing that he didn’t want trouble with the locals or the other armies. He stopped as he met Whitecloaks waiting their turn. Berelain was riding next to Galad again; they seemed very amenably lost in conversation. Light, but the woman had spent pretty much every waking hour with Galad these last few days.

Perrin hadn’t put the Whitecloaks and Mayeners together, yet they seemed to have somehow ended up that way. As they started moving, Galad’s Whitecloaks rode in a perfect line, four across, their white tabards set with sunbursts. Perrin still had a gut reaction akin to panic whenever he saw them, but they’d made surprisingly little trouble since the trial.

Mayene’s Winged Guards rode along the other side, Gallenne just behind Berelain, their lances held high. Red streamers came from the lances, and breastplates and helms were shined to perfection. It seemed they were ready to parade. And maybe they were. If you were going to ride to the Last Battle, you did it with lance held high and armor polished.

Perrin continued on. Alliandre’s army came next, riding in a tight formation of heavy cavalry, eight men across, Arganda at their head. He called orders when he saw Perrin, and the serpentine column of soldiers turned and saluted.

Perrin returned their salute. He’d asked Alliandre, and she’d indicated that was the appropriate response. She rode with Arganda, sidesaddle, in a slim maroon gown with gold trim. An impractical outfit for riding, but they wouldn’t be in the saddle very long. Three hundred paces and as many leagues.

He could see her satisfaction as he saluted her soldiers. She was pleased to see him stepping into his role as leader of the coalition. In fact, many in camp reacted the same way. Perhaps before, they’d been able to sense how much he resented leadership. How did people do that, without being able to smell emotions?

“Lord Perrin,” Alliandre said, riding past him. She gave a bowing sort of sway that was the equivalent of a horseback curtsy. “Should you not be riding?”

“I like my feet,” Perrin said.

“It looks more authoritative when a commander rides.”

“I’ve decided to lead this bunch, Alliandre,” Perrin said gruffly, “but I’ll do it my way. That means walking when I want to.” They were only going a few feet through the gateway. His feet would serve him well enough.

“Of course, my Lord.”

“Once we’re settled, I want you to send some men back to Jehannah. See if you can recruit anyone else, pick up whatever city guard you have. Bring them here. We’re going to need everyone we can get, and I want to train them as much as possible before this war hits.”