by Trish Mercer
Perrin felt agitated the moment he stepped onto the campus of the University of Idumea and headed toward the buildings devoted to the Command School. He knew he would, though.
When he left over twenty-five years ago, he promised himself he’d never return. There’d been some good moments, true, but there were also many others that he’d shoved to the back of his mind, hoping to never again revisit.
Yet there they all were, flashing in front of him like a manic lightning storm. People and memories and arguments he’d nearly forgotten, all brought to the fore as he gazed at the tall trees, stone and block buildings, and young men in uniform coming and going along the paved walkways.
He took a deep breath, steeled himself, and headed toward the mess hall where most of the cadets would be. He didn’t get very far before it started. The looks. The double takes. The salutes.
They recognized him.
It wasn’t as if he was a perfect double for his father, but there was enough family resemblance than any young soldier who knew the High General also knew his son. Since he was in uniform they had to salute, but it was more than that. They looked at him with some kind of expectation. His stomach twisted at the idea that all these young men thought that someday he would be their High General.
He was the only one there who didn’t.
The ones that held his gaze longer were those pre-commissioned as lieutenants. The top of their classes, the leaders of their peers, the most ambitious—and therefore the most obnoxious—of the future officers. Perrin knew, because he’d been one of them.
One even nodded knowingly at him, as if they shared some secret, but Perrin ignored the sanctimonious effort. It was all such a game, to be the greatest and bravest and most arrogant breed of soldier Command School could produce. All for the hope of being placed in the right fort, with the right possibilities to reach the position of commander, and to be in charge.
Why was that so appealing? Being in charge? It sounds like one is afforded great power, but what one really is given is overwhelming responsibility. People live or die because of your decisions. Why does anyone crave that kind of control?
Perrin certainly didn’t. One time he did, but now? Edge was more than enough responsibility; he didn’t want his father’s. No one was more grateful to see him improving than Perrin, and mostly for the selfish reason that his survival pushed back again the question of who would be the next High General. Certainly not a lowly Lieutenant Colonel, but Perrin suspected that would be changing soon. Maybe it was the way his mother had checked the size of his jacket before she left for the shops with his wife and daughter. A new one was likely being ordered.
Perrin realized he’d stopped walking as he stared at the door of the mess hall with young men streaming into it. Cush’s grandson would be a lieutenant, but beyond that he wasn’t sure who he was looking for—
It didn’t matter. The strapping boy with short blonde hair leaking out from under his cap saw him first and immediately marched over to him. Before he even arrived, Perrin recognized the features of his mother Versula Cush Thorne. He plastered what he hoped was a convincing smile on his face and returned the salute of the young future officer.
“Lieutenant Colonel Shin, I presume?” the boy said confidently. His eyes were determined, his stance self-assured, his demeanor sharp and focused.
Perrin hated him.
There was no reason for it. But it was just like when someone places a new dish of food in front of you, and even if you’ve just come off a long ride and hadn’t eaten for two days, you instantly know there’s no possible way you can swallow that down. You haven’t even tasted it, or even know the ingredients for that matter, but it’s completely unpalatable.
Maybe it was just the effect of Idumea, tainting all that he encountered with the natural repulsion he felt toward anything associated with the city. He knew nothing of the boy. Young man. Except that he was Versula’s son, Cush’s grandson, and his features were so perfectly chiseled that undoubtedly the young women considered him handsome.
As long as one particular young woman didn’t think him handsome. Or even meet him—
Perrin held out his hand. “You presume correctly. Thorne, then is it?”
“Yes sir! Lieutenant Lemuel Thorne, sir.”
As the lieutenant—and Perrin noticed the emphasis on the title—shook his hand, Perrin did his best to hold in his sneer.
“Sir, my grandfather told me to be watching for you. I’m relieved to hear your father’s improving. Gave us all quite a scare there, didn’t he? But he’s a wily old wolf, as my grandfather’s fond of saying, so I was confident he would improve.”
He was talkative, almost rehearsed.
Perrin hated anything practiced and contrived. “Well, we’re grateful too that he’s growling again. Lieutenant, I don’t want to keep you from your midday meal, now—”
“I don’t need to eat,” Lieutenant Thorne said as if he needed food only once a moon.
Like a snake, Perrin concluded.
“I’d much rather learn about the fort at Edge, sir. If you have a few minutes?”
“I do,” Perrin smiled, and bit his tongue to avoid adding, unfortunately. “I understand it’s your ambition to become a commander of a fort?”
“I intend to be the youngest, sir. Next to you, of course.” His steel blue eyes were as sharp as blades. “Even though my own father is already a colonel—” the smugness oozed from a corner of his mouth—“everyone knows you were the youngest commander, and the youngest captain. That’s why I wanted to meet you. I intend to learn from the best, sir.”
“Of course,” Perrin sighed. He was glad he was missing his midday meal too. He had absolutely no appetite left.
---
Peto licked the last of the sweet roll off his fingers and looked hesitantly at his grandfather. “Grandmother doesn’t know that you’re on to her hiding spot?”
Relf brushed his stubbly chin to make sure no evidence remained. It was time to share some grandfatherly wisdom. “An important key to good soldiering, son, is to never let the enemy know you were there.”
Peto blinked uncertainly.
His grandfather continued. “So remove food from the back of the plate, then subtly rearrange what remains so she doesn’t realize it’s been disturbed.”
Peto grinned. “That’s what Kindiri told me to do.”
Relf squinted worriedly. “So you . . . talked to them? In the kitchen?”
“They weren’t discussing cucumber sandwiches,” Peto assured him. “Just going on and on about the sweet rolls.”
Relf only nodded slowly, grateful for his grandson’s extreme innocence.
“So . . . what’d you want to talk about?”
His grandfather sighed. “I’m not quite sure where to begin. Cush told me this morning he’s disappointed in you because you still don’t want to be an officer.”
Peto looked down at his feet and ground some of the crumbs into powder. “I’m sorry, I don’t. I’m not sure what I want to be. I know you told me once that when I get older I’d—”
“That’s all right, Peto,” his grandfather told him. “You don’t have to join the army.”
Surprised, Peto looked up. “But . . . I’m supposed to be the fourth Shin general,” he said helplessly.
“There will be a fourth Shin general, boy, when your father makes general. My great-grandfather was the first,” he whispered.
Peto had never heard this story before. “Your great-grandfather?”
“In fact,” General Shin continued in a low voice, “he was one of the first generals ever, appointed by King Querul the First during the Great War.” He leaned forward slightly. “There were five generals all together then, and my great-grandfather was to have been appointed the first High General, but he wasn’t. No Shin earned that title until King Querul the Fourth gave that honor to my father nearly eighty years later. I always thought my grandfather Ricolfus who became a lieutenant colonel before he died was the first o
fficer in the army, but the truth is, his father was first!”
Peto shook his head, fascinated. “Why didn’t we know that?”
“Because no one knows, Peto.” Relf’s eyes darted around as if concerned that someone who should have been dismissed from the room was still lurking in a corner. “His name isn’t even recorded in the history books, only the name of the first High General, but none of the other generals at the time.”
“Why not?”
“Because my great-grandfather failed the king in his most important mission. He was made a general and given command over fifty men to track down his own wife’s traitorous family.”
Peto’s eyes widened.
“They left suddenly after the last Guide was killed—my own great-great-grandfather, great-great-grandmother, and their three daughters. Peto,” he whispered, “they were Guarders!”
Peto’s mouth dropped open in shock, and he wondered just how clear his grandfather’s mind was at the moment.
“The only one of that family that remained in Idumea was my great grandmother,” Relf continued in an urgent whisper. “I’m fairly certain the first general never found his in-laws and brought them to justice, otherwise the story would be told over and over again and his name wouldn’t have been lost to history. As it is, there really is no story. My father told me only a couple of times about his grandmother, that general’s wife. I guess she wasn’t a pleasant memory for him, because I remember him saying his grandmother was always sad and lonely.”
Relf paused and looked off into some distant thought.
Peto fought the urge to look in the same direction to see if he saw anything.
“She was already an older woman, around thirty-five, by the time she gave birth to my grandfather Ricolfus, her only child,” Relf continued, as if suddenly remembering his grandson was still there. “She was sixty-six by the time she became a grandmother to my father Pere. Then she died before Pere reached adulthood.”
With a sad smile he said, “My father told me he never remembered his grandmother smiling. He never even told me her name, and I don’t know what happened to her husband the general. But he was gone before my father Pere was born, and he may not have known his grandfather’s name.”
Peto’s mouth couldn’t have fallen open any further. “There were Guarders? In our family? Does Father know?”
Relf shook his head. “Perrin doesn’t know. I didn’t even know until almost two weeks ago. I found some files, in a crate in the cellar storage room dug out in the old garrison—my storage room. I was there bringing down some work. Hate to have piles of paperwork sitting around.”
He gestured in irritation at his desk where several stacks waited.
“I decided to reorganize the place a bit while I was there, to make it easier to find older documents. I emptied out a large cabinet to move it to a better location. It’d been leaning against a wall, and behind it is where I noticed the crate. It was dug into the earthen wall, but it appeared as if the wall had partially collapsed. The crate was half buried by dirt. I don’t think those papers had been touched in over one hundred thirty years. They were rather brittle, but still readable. They were family histories, Peto!” Relf breathed.
Peto stared in astonishment.
“Not all of them, but a lot. I found my family’s near the back in the S section. Actually,” he said wincing in pain as he tried to reposition himself in the bed, “that’s where I was when the tremor hit. I’d gone back early that morning to try to read more history. No one would be there on a Holy Day, so I knew it’d be a safe time to explore the crate. I thought all of the histories had been destroyed in the great fire over a hundred thirty years ago. You know about that, right? The destruction of all of the family lines, Terryp the explorer’s findings, maps, and nearly everything else important that was supposed to be compiled?”
Peto snapped out his astonished reverie long enough to say, “Have you ever met my parents, the lovers of history and all things Terryp?”
Relf’s demeanor softened a moment to let him chuckle. “Sorry. Stupid question. Of course they’ve told you, likely many times.” Immediately his intensity returned. “But Peto, these records never made it to that holding room where the fire destroyed everything. I don’t think anyone knew it was still around, hidden behind that cabinet that stayed in the same position since probably your father was a cadet.”
He sighed sadly and leaned against his propped up pillows.
“Well, now I fear it’s all destroyed, buried again by the tremor. That’s why it took so long for them to find me. No one knew where I went that morning, not even Joriana. I still haven’t told her what I discovered. I only told her I went to rearrange the room.” Relf shifted his gaze to his grandson to gauge his reaction to all that he’d revealed.
Peto leaned forward. “Did you bring back any papers?”
“Not the first time, nor would I have dared the second time, even if I could’ve got to them,” he whispered. “Just consider, Peto, how would it look for the High General of Idumea to have forbidden family lines? To be holding documents written in his great-grandfather’s hand explaining how he was ordered to find his wife’s family? Evidence that some of our ancestors were Guarders?”
Peto pursed his mouth. “Yeah . . . I guess I can see one or two problems with that.”
“So you’re not entirely slow,” Relf winked at him before becoming serious again. “Even if I had just one page, too many questions would be brought back up again, Peto, with people searching in buildings they have no business being in. And our family’s loyalty would be under scrutiny.”
Peto nodded soberly.
“But,” Relf said with surprising mischief in his dark eyes, “I remember two names, Peto.” He took his arm in earnest. “And I want you to remember them as well. The name of the first general Shin, Ricolfus’s father, was Lek Shin. His wife was Lorixania. I wished now I’d paid closer attention to the names of their ancestors, or looked up Lorixania’s maiden name. But I think this is all we need to have.”
Peto frowned. “Lek and Lorixania? It would be hard to forget those names. I’ll remember, Grandfather.”
Relf firmed his grasp on his grandson. “There’s something more, Peto. I hardly know how to speak it.” He looked hard at him, searching his young, suddenly anxious, face. “Peto, have you ever had . . . a dream?”
Peto looked at him oddly. “Yes, everyone has dreams—”
“No, Peto—I mean, a dream that means something.”
Peto shook his head. “But The Writings talk about them.”
His grandfather nodded. “I had been neglecting those for a while—old Hogal always got on me about that—but I’ve been reading them more closely recently. I wonder if that’s why I was led to the crate,” he added more to himself.
He looked back at his grandson’s bewildered face.
“Before you leave with your Father this afternoon, find my copy for me, will you? Should be by my bed in the west wing. There are some things I need to check. But Peto, I’ve . . . dreamed since the tremor. I’ve had the dream a few times now. Maybe it was a hallucination, brought on by lack of water and food, or maybe it was because it was the first time in years I was actually still enough to listen, and the Creator finally had my attention—”
He stopped and looked at his grandson who was waiting eagerly. No more procrastinating.
“Peto, your father will be a general. But not just any general: the greatest general the world ever saw.”
Even though Relf’s intensity was palpable, his words weren’t anything Peto was expecting. He involuntarily scowled. “Are you sure?”
Relf smiled understandingly and tilted his head. “I know. It’s hard for a son to see his father as anything more than the man who yells at him to help his mother and always ends up with the biggest piece of chicken.”
Peto nodded. “And he never wants to move to Idumea.”
Relf gripped his wrist tighter, and Peto tried not to win
ce. “You may have to help change his mind. I don’t understand it, but Peto, there’ll be a great conflict. Maybe something with the Guarders. Your father will be at the head of that conflict, organizing the battle, fighting it, bringing it to an ultimate end that all the world will see! Ah, Peto!” Relf said with a faraway look on his face as he released his grandson, “How I wished I could be there by his side! He will be great, not some general-for-looks as I am. At times I’m nothing but a glorified law enforcer, sitting in this showy mansion to make the people feel protected and the Administrators look good. We work for peace, but the uncomfortable truth is that peace is a useless time for soldiers.”
His grandson watched him worriedly, not sure what to say.
Relf regarded him with a miserable smile. “Don’t listen to all the ramblings of an old man, son. My purpose in this life has been to prepare your father. I know that now, and I also see how much I’ve neglected that duty. I was gone so much, and I never really talked to him unless I phrased it as an order. These past few days I’ve spent more time listening to my son than I have in forty-three years. I don’t know from where he gets his thoughts, or how he’s learned to think and feel so deeply. Not from me, that’s for sure. He’s become a wonderful man, my boy has!” Relf’s voice became shaky. “I don’t deserve him.”
Peto looked down so as to not see the emotion that rose suddenly in his grandfather’s face.
“Grandfather,” he said quietly, “why don’t you tell him this?”
Relf gripped his wrist again, and for a moment Peto wondered if it were to transfer something of himself into his grandson.
“I will tell him, some of it. But Peto—one other thing about that dream. I’m sure it wasn’t just for me. It was for you. That’s why I was so happy to hear you’d come.”
Peto looked up quickly to see his grandfather’s eyes brimming with tears. Seeing the general this way startled him, as if he could be startled by anything more that morning.
“Why me?”
“I don’t know, Peto. But you’ll live to see your father become something great, something greater than he already is.” Relf’s voice quavered again. “That was made very clear to me. You will see it all! This was all for you. Now, Peto, write it down. All of it!”
Peto raised his eyebrows, the only part of his body he could move.
“There’s parchment—that will last longer—and a quill in the top drawer.” Relf released his wrist and gestured to the desk. “Use the best ink on the side. You need to remember this, and keep it for your children.”
Peto, stunned by his grandfather’s fervor, obediently got up and slipped behind the desk still pushed against the wall. He pulled out the parchment and quill and glanced up at his grandfather.
He twisted in his bed to see his grandson, and his face contorted in pain at his awkward position. “Begin with the names I told you. Some day you will want to know them again.”
“I’ll remember, Grandfather.”
“Not good enough! You must write it down, boy! Then write down what I told you. Neater than that, Peto! I can see the scribbles from here.”
Peto wrote as carefully and quickly as he could, the odd combination of words spilling sloppily on the parchment. Peto didn’t know what to think of any of this, so he thought of nothing but obeying his grandfather and his unusual commands.
He brought the parchment to his grandfather for inspection. Relf took the quill and struggled in his slouched position to write a few clarifying words and the day’s date. Then he signed his name to verify it in two places: once by the names of Lek and Lorixania Shin, then at the bottom of the parchment.
He handed the quill back to Peto, but held on to the parchment, running his finger along the side of it. He blew gently on the damp ink and immediately regretted it as his ribs reminded him they were broken. Finally, he looked at his grandson.
“You’re not yet fourteen, son, but you’re old enough to understand. This is important,” he said holding up the parchment. “I don’t know why, and I don’t know when. But it will become important. Guard it with all you have. Keep it hidden, but take it with you if ever you should leave somewhere for a long time. And, this may sound strange to you now, but I feel distinctly that I must tell you: show it to no one, except your wife.”
Peto’s mouth dropped open again. “I’m not planning on getting married anytime soon!”
Relf smiled at him. “Of course not. But your children and grandchildren will come to treasure this parchment. The one written by their father and signed by their great-grandfather. Not only do I know that, but I feel that. Promise me, Peto.”
There was nothing else to say but, “Of course, Grandfather. I promise.” He took the parchment and pressed it to his chest, wondering where to put it. He saw an envelope on his grandfather’s desk and reached for it.
Relf took the parchment back from him, folded it carefully, then gave it back to his grandson who slid it into the envelope.
Relf then put his hand on Peto’s face, effectively paralyzing his grandson. Relf had never held his face before, nor had Peto ever seen such emotion in his eyes.
“We speak of this never again, Peto. By going through those documents and rerecording those names, and not revealing to anyone what I uncovered, I’ve just committed some serious offenses, and now I’ve dragged my grandson into it, too.
“And say nothing of this to your parents,” he added in a low tone as he released Peto’s face. “I’m fairly confident your mother’s going the same direction as your father in regards to him becoming a general. And maybe this is why you must know all of this. Perhaps it’ll be you who finally gets him where he needs to be.”
Peto swallowed. “No pressure there, Grandfather.”
Relf scoffed quietly. “And as for the dream, well, I don’t think the Administrators would like to hear about that conflict. They don’t hold The Writings or dreams in much esteem. They’d consider me a crazed old man. Honestly, I’m not in any condition to be tried by the Administrators. And neither are you.”
Peto smiled uncomfortably at his grandfather. He wasn’t sure if it was a joke or not. Something in the air told him there was nothing funny about what General Shin just said.
Relf gave him a genuine smile to ease his worries.
“I have to break one more regulation. I know it will be painful for you, but it will be far more painful for me. Peto, give the general a hug.”
---
It was one of the longest half hours Perrin had ever endured, and by the time his interview with the young lieutenant was over, he was sure three weeks had past. Thank goodness for afternoon classes.
He saluted away the lieutenant, who was immediately flanked by several other cadets eager to ask him questions about the time he spent sitting on a bench discussing the secrets to running a fort. The boy hadn’t really cared about what Perrin had to say, as much as he cared that Perrin noticed he was asking him questions. Thorne’s purpose had been to be seen, not to learn. That was how all the pre-commissioned lieutenants ran, Perrin knew, and why he felt the urge to run from the campus.
As soon as Perrin’s feet hit the road outside of the university, his chest immediately felt lighter. Only going back to Edge would allow him to breath easily again, but this would have to do. In just a few minutes he’d be back at the mansion, then he and Peto could—
“You must be Lieutenant Colonel Perrin Shin!”
The voice rang over to him, stopping Perrin in his tracks. Reluctantly, he turned and stiffened in surprise.
What caught his eye was the red jacket. It was impossible to miss, with its deep dye and long coat tails in the back. It topped the black pants that were part of the uniform, along with the ridiculously white ruffled shirt.
An administrator.
But this administrator was unusual. He was wearing a broad, genuine grin as he jogged over from a bisecting road.
Perrin put on his practiced smile again. “That’s what I hear, Administrator,
” he said, shaking the man’s hand.
“Yes, yes,” the Administrator said, looking him top to bottom as if inspecting a horse for sale. “Indeed, you do favor your father, but you’re definitely larger.”
Perrin’s shoulder twitched. “So I’ve been told. Been compared to a bear a few times. Not favorably, though.”
“And thunder,” the man mumbled more to himself, still evaluating him with his ready smile. “But I don’t see it. I’m glad I ran into you! I was just on my way to your father’s mansion to check on him—”
The last thing his father needed was an Administrator by his bed. Even one who was now anxiously smoothing down the last of the hair that circled his head as if he was worried that he didn’t look presentable.
“I don’t think he’s up to visitors yet, sir,” said Perrin. “He had Cush and a team of officers by earlier wearing him down, and by the time I reach home, I’m sure he’ll be ready for a nap. He’s already sent away my mother with my daughter and wife to see the city.”
Something in the brightness of the Administrator’s eyes dimmed slightly when Perrin mentioned “wife.”
“Ah. I see. Well good, good!” The brightness tried to return, unconvincingly. “Sounds like he truly is making remarkable progress.”
“He is, Administrator . . . I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
The man chuckled in apology. “Of course you don’t. Forgive me, forgive me—Dr. Brisack, at your service!”
Perrin’s smile warmed a notch. “Nice to finally meet you, Dr. Brisack. I’ve heard good things about you, and my father’s spoken highly of you over the years.”
“Has he now? Why, I’m flattered. To get Relf’s compliments is rare indeed.”
Perrin nodded. “It is. I’ll be sure to let him know you were inquiring after him,” and he took a deliberate step to head home.
“Uh, Lieutenant Colonel, there’s something else,” Brisack said with a slightly different tone.
Perrin stopped. “Is there?”
“I was also on my way to meet you. You see, now that your father’s improving, we at the Administrative Headquarters would like you to pay us a little visit. Been so many years since we’ve seen you, understand. Most of us have never even met one of our greatest officers!” His smile developed a decidedly crisp quality.
Perrin swallowed. “Yes. Well. I intended to come by—”
“Tomorrow, then. Mid-morning,” Brisack insisted. “That’s when we all meet together. Give you the opportunity to report to all of us about the condition of Edge and how things are in the northernmost part of the world.”
Perrin went wooden, trying to let the words penetrate his mind.
All of them.
A report.
Tomorrow, mid-morning.
Sixteen years of avoiding them was about to come to an end. So, too, might many other things, if he didn’t do this correctly. The problem was, he had no idea what the correct thing to do was.
“I . . . suppose I best be there then.”
Brisack patted him on the arm as if they were old friends. “Nothing to worry about, Shin! We just want to see you again. Or for the first time, as the case may be,” he chuckled amiably. “Just a friendly check on our favorite officer.”
“Yes. Of course. Thank you. I’ll be there.”
“You could bring along your wife, too,” Brisack suggested, something lighting again in his eyes. “Let her see the seat of government? Rare opportunity for our citizens, you know.”
That would be very worst idea in the world since the formation of Idumea, is what Perrin wanted to say. Instead, he merely scoffed an easy chuckle. “Oh, I don’t think so. That’s not really her thing.”
Again the light mysteriously dimmed in Brisack’s eyes. “Oh. Well then. Guess it’ll have to be something else,” he said vaguely. He grabbed Perrin’s hand once more and pumped it vigorously. “Again, wonderful to finally meet you, Perrin Shin! You’re almost exactly what I expected.”
Perrin couldn’t help but smile at that evaluation. “I thank you. I think.”
“Say hello to your father for me, and good day, Perrin Shin!”
Perrin waved at the doctor who turned on his heel and headed in another direction. Perrin exhaled and jogged all the way home before anyone else in a blue uniform or a red jacket felt the need to call out his name.
---
When Perrin returned to the mansion it was to find his son running out from the study and stuffing an envelope down his shirt.
“I’ll be back, Father,” he assured him as he ran down the Grand Hall to his bedroom. “Then we can leave.”
Perrin walked to the study and knocked lightly on the door frame to get his father’s attention.
Although Relf attempted a smile, he cringed in extreme discomfort.
Perrin rushed over to him. “Are you all right? What’d Peto do to you?”
“Nothing, I’m fine, I’m fine. I just don’t remember broken ribs hurting this badly when I was Peto’s age, or your age.”
“Let’s get you lying down,” and Perrin helped him to a more comfortable position. “You’ve already done too much today. Your ribs are probably tired of trying to mend again after all these years. Only so much abuse a body can take.”
“True, true,” the general murmured.
“What was Peto leaving with?” Perrin asked, sitting down on the chair next to him.
“Grandfatherly advice, son. Things he should do for his father when he gets older. I’ve had some time to think about that during the past few days.”
Perrin looked down at his hands. “So have I. I’m sorry I didn’t know what happened sooner. I would’ve come here that first day and joined in the search for you. That would’ve been the right thing to do. My duty is to my family first, not to the government. That’s not what the Creator intended—” He looked suddenly around the room. “Where’s your lieutenant?”
“Probably chatting up the cook,” Relf waved. “They have a thing going.”
Perrin nodded and winced.
“I recommend keeping your children out of the kitchen when they start whispering about sweet rolls. We’re alone, son. No one will hear you spewing your anti-Administrators prattle.” He gave his son a warning glare.
Perrin matched it. “Father, I’m supposed to meet with the Administrators tomorrow morning. One of them caught me on the way back from the university and told me I’ve been expected. Brisack wishes you well, by the way. I have to admit, I’ve been a bit . . . insubordinate in my thoughts about them.”
“Obviously,” Relf said. “I see it in your eyes.”
Instinctively—childishly—Perrin briefly shut his eyes.
“Don’t worry, no one else can see it, I’m sure,” his father assured him. “You’re doing an excellent job in Edge. Everyone knows that. I don’t think they’re looking to confront you. You’ve done nothing insubordinate. In fact, I think they may want to find a way to bring you back to Idumea. Say the right things tomorrow, and you can soon take over my position.”
“I’m not high enough in rank,” Perrin said smugly.
“Easily fixed. You’re well overdue for promotion to full colonel. Be that for a year or so, then become general. In less than two years you’re back here. It’s tradition for the High General in Idumea to be a Shin. Your grandfather, me, next you.”
Agitated, Perrin got to his feet, walked behind the chair and braced himself against it. “I can’t. I just can’t leave Edge.”
“I know,” his father said in a bored tone. “You hate Idumea.”
“It’s more than that, really. From the first time I went to Edge it was like I belonged. As if I’d been looking for that place all my life. It’s where the Creator needs me to be. When I come here, I’m out of sorts. Everything feels off, like I’m riding on a saddle backward. Still getting around, but nothing’s right.”
Relf exhaled. “Is it because Edge is where you met your wife? Where your children were born? Maybe th
e problem is that you’re too comfortable. No one likes change, Perrin. But change is always good.”
“I’ve thought of that. It’s not always good, and I don’t have a problem with change.”
When his father gave him a challenging look, Perrin restated it. “All right, I don’t enjoy change, I’ll admit it. Now what’s that look for? Yes, all right, I fight change! Satisfied?” he grinned mischievously at his father who nodded at him.
Perrin sobered again. “But really, that’s not it. It’s deeper, somehow. Please, Father,” he moved to sit next to him again, “whatever you can do to keep me in Edge, please do it. I must stay!”
The general was thoughtful for a moment. “It’s rare that an officer doesn’t get transferred. Sixteen years you’ve sat out there. I’ve even let you keep Karna all that time. Granted, no one has wanted to go all the way to Edge. Much rather enjoy the beaches at Waves, or the warm Raining Season of Grasses. I’ll do what I can to convince the Command Board you should stay, but I can’t guarantee anything.”
He tried to sit up a little, but settled for resting on his arm.
“Perrin, your mother and I were really hoping to hand this house over to you and your family when I retire. We’d be happy to stay in the guest house in the back. Just consider: your mother could help Mahrree with all the entertaining duties, your son and daughter could attend the best schools—with a general’s pay you could afford those private schools that bribe the Administrator of Education so they can bend a few rules—and I could sit in the corner and tell you what to do, and you could tell me all my ideas are bad ones.”
Perrin leaned forward on his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “Father, I can’t tell you how many elements of what you just said actually sound very appealing to me. But, I just can’t be here,” he said. “Now, you consider: what’s to keep you and mother from coming to Edge when you retire? We could find you a great house, Mahrree might even consider moving from our little place into something closer to you. Her mother keeps begging that anyway. Don’t worry—you wouldn’t have move to the same road as Hycymum Peto and her band of eager widows.”
His father thought for a moment and said, “And there are many elements of what you just said that’s appealing to me as well. Avoiding the lonely widows would be important, however. But Edge is a charming little place, and I think I’m one of the few people in the world who enjoys the mountains. However, there’s one flaw: what’s to keep you in Edge once I’m retired? Who will be here to keep you there?”
Perrin breathed out heavily. “I hadn’t considered that.” He sat back in the chair, dejected. His eyes searched the floor looking for an exit of some sort, but there was none. “Father, I’ll be transferred out of Edge!”
“Is that really so bad, son?”
“Yes! Yes!” He stood up and paced the floor.
“That really bothers you, doesn’t it?” Relf said, surprised.
Perrin stopped. “What if I retire too? Just . . . quit the army when they want to move me?”
“No!” said Relf decisively. “You have to stay!”
“Why?”
Both men saw Peto standing at the door, clutching a copy of The Writings to his chest. Neither man knew how long he’d been there, but his face was white with worry.
“Because you have to be the next general in Idumea, Father,” Peto said quietly. “Besides, what else could you do? Be a rancher? Cows hate you.”
A smile began to spread across Perrin’s face as he saw the anxious expression on his son’s. He knew he had to erase it, quick. “You’re right. Cattle hate me. Never understood why. And Mahrree hates gardening, so there goes farming. I could be a builder. Your room didn’t collapse in the land tremor. Maybe Chief Curglaff will be ready to quit sooner if I put a little more pressure on him. I could be chief law enforcer. I already do most of his job—”
Peto still looked troubled.
“Ah, Peto. Don’t fret about it right now. All of this is years down the road. Much can happen in a few years. Much can happen in just a few days. Two weeks ago would you have imagined yourself standing in your grandparents’ house in Idumea? Well?”
Peto dared a small smile and placed The Writings on his grandfather’s bed.
“And would you have imagined your father about to take you to see the new arena?” his grandfather reminded him.
“That’s right!” Perrin said, eager for a new topic. “Go get something to eat, and send that lieutenant back. The general’s getting feisty and I want to make sure he doesn’t get any ideas while we’re gone and do something foolish.”
“I’m too tired for foolishness, Perrin. And don’t you think for one moment this discussion is over yet.”
“Of course not. I’m already thinking about available houses you and Mother would enjoy in Edge.”
“Perrin!” the general barked his best at his son as he left the study.
“Sorry, General, on my way out. Talk to you later, if I remember.” He waved without turning around.
Relf watched his son put his arm around his grandson as they headed to the kitchen. When Perrin was nearly fourteen he was already as tall as Relf. Peto’s form was much slighter, and he’d never be as tall as his father, but he had the same face.
Relf smiled. It was shocking how good it was to have them here.
Worth almost dying for.
Chapter 9 ~ “Says the most competitive woman in the world.”