“The Way of the Leaf?” Egwene said. “What is that?”
Aram gestured to the trees, his eyes fastened intently on hers. “The leaf lives its appointed time, and does not struggle against the wind that carries it away. The leaf does no harm, and finally falls to nourish new leaves. So it should be with all men. And women.” Egwene stared back at him, a faint blush rising in her cheeks.
“But what does that mean?” Perrin said. Aram gave him an irritated glance, but it was Raen who answered.
“It means that no man should harm another for any reason whatsoever.” The Seeker's eyes flickered to Elyas. “There is no excuse for violence. None. Not ever.”
“What if somebody attacks you?” Perrin insisted. “What if somebody hits you, or tries to rob you, or kill you?”
Raen sighed, a patient sigh, as if Perrin was just not seeing what was so clear to him. “If a man hit me, I would ask him why he wanted to do such a thing. If he still wanted to hit me, I would run away, as I would if he wanted to rob or kill me. Much better that I let him take what he wanted, even my life, than that I should do violence. And I would hope that he was not harmed too greatly.”
“But you said you wouldn't hurt him,” Perrin said.
“I would not, but violence harms the one who does it as much as the one who receives it.” Perrin looked doubtful. “You could cut down a tree with your axe,” Raen said. “The axe does violence to the tree, and escapes unharmed. Is that how you see it? Wood is soft compared to steel, but the sharp steel is dulled as it chops, and the sap of the tree will rust and pit it. The mighty axe does violence to the helpless tree, and is harmed by it. So it is with men, though the harm is in the spirit.”
“But —”
“Enough,” Elyas growled, cutting Perrin off. “Raen, it's bad enough you trying to convert village younglings to that nonsense — it gets you in trouble almost everywhere you go, doesn't it? — but I didn't bring this lot here for you to work on them. Leave over.”
“And leave them to you?” Ila said, grinding herbs between her palms and letting them trickle into one of the kettles. Her voice was calm, but her hands rubbed the herbs furiously. “Will you teach them your way, to kill or die? Will you lead them to the fate you seek for yourself, dying alone with only the ravens and your ... your friends to squabble over your body?”
“Be at peace, Ila,” Raen said gently, as if he had heard this all and more a hundred times. “He has been welcomed to our fire, my wife.”
Ila subsided, but Perrin noticed that she made no apology. Instead she looked at Elyas and shook her head sadly, then dusted her hands and began taking spoons and pottery bowls from a red chest on the side of the wagon.
Raen turned back to Elyas. “My old friend, how many times must I tell you that we do not try to convert anyone. When village people are curious about our ways, we answer their questions. It is most often the young who ask, true, and sometimes one of them will come with us when we journey on, but it is of their own free will.”
“You try telling that to some farm wife who's just found out her son or daughter has run off with you Tinkers,” Elyas said wryly. “That's why the bigger towns won't even let you camp nearby. Villages put up with you for your mending things, but the cities don't need it, and they don't like you talking their young folks into running off.”
“I would not know what the cities allow.” Raen's patience seemed inexhaustible. He certainly did not appear to be getting angry at all. “There are always violent men in cities. In any case, I do not think the song could be found in a city.”
“I don't mean to offend you, Seeker,” Perrin said slowly, “but ... Well, I don't look for violence. I don't think I've even wrestled anybody in years, except for feastday games. But if somebody hit me, I'd hit him back. If I didn't, I would just be encouraging him to think he could hit me whenever he wanted to. Some people think they can take advantage of others, and if you don't let them know they can't, they'll just go around bullying anybody weaker than they are.”
“Some people,” Aram said with a heavy sadness, “can never overcome their baser instincts.” He said it with a look at Perrin that made it clear he was not talking about the bullies Perrin spoke of.
“I'll bet you get to run away a lot,” Perrin said, and the young Tinker's face tightened in a way that had nothing to do with the Way of the Leaf.
“I think it is interesting,” Egwene said, glaring at Perrin, “to meet someone who doesn't believe his muscles can solve every problem.”
Aram's good spirits returned, and he stood, offering her his hands with a smile. “Let me show you our camp. There is dancing.”
“I would like that.” She smiled back.
Ila straightened from taking loaves of bread from the small iron oven. “But supper is ready, Aram.”
“I'll eat with mother,” Aram said over his shoulder as he drew Egwene away from the wagon by her hand. “We will both eat with mother.” He flashed a triumphant smile at Perrin. Egwene was laughing as they ran.
Perrin got to his feet, then stopped. It was not as if she could come to any harm, not if the camp followed this Way of the Leaf as Raen said. Looking at Raen and Ila, both staring dejectedly after their grandson, he said, “I'm sorry. I am a guest, and I shouldn't have —”
“Don't be foolish,” Ila said soothingly. “It was his fault, not yours. Sit down and eat.”
“Aram is a troubled young man,” Raen added sadly. “He is a good boy, but sometimes I think he finds the Way of the Leaf a hard way. Some do, I fear. Please. My fire is yours. Please?”
Perrin sat back down slowly, still feeling awkward. “What happens to somebody who can't follow the Way?” he asked. “A Tinker, I mean.”
Raen and Ila exchanged a worried look, and Raen said, “They leave us. The Lost go to live in the villages.”
Ila stared in the direction her grandson had gone. “The Lost cannot be happy.” She sighed, but her face was placid again when she handed out the bowls and spoons.