by Trish Mercer
Mahrree woke up with a start, immediately recalling every horrible moment that had transpired the endless night before.
She looked around, a bit disoriented, before remembering she was on the sofa. Jaytsy was curled up on one side and Peto was on the other. Their faces were still blotchy from weeping. At what time they finally succumbed to the brief respite sleep offered, she didn’t know. But all the pain was back again, in full pounding force.
She sighed and slouched back on the sofa. Through Peto’s open door she spied Major Karna asleep on Peto’s bed, with his sword on the floor and at the ready. Mahrree remembered her mother had gone to Jaytsy’s bed to lie down in the middle of the night.
She looked over to see Jaytsy’s door open, but heard a soft shuffling in the kitchen behind her. For a moment, Mahrree’s heart leaped in hope, until she identified the sounds as her mother trying quietly to cook breakfast.
Mahrree rubbed her temples with her fingers and muttered the same prayer she’d been saying all night. “Please, dear Creator—help Shem find Perrin. Let them both come home safely. And please, somehow, help our hearts heal.”
---
“Where is he?” Mal demanded as Brisack came into his office.
“Someone just spotted him coming to the Administration Building. But there won’t be any time to interrogate him before the meeting.” Brisack sat heavily in a chair. “But don’t worry—I have three men that will be waiting at his office, and four more to tail him should he leave to go elsewhere. We’ll pin down Gadiman and find out what else he’s ordered.”
Mal shook his head. “Unbelievable,” he whispered and glanced quickly around his large office. Since they weren’t in his library—the unexpected events of the past day and night hadn’t allowed for any private meetings—Nicko Mal felt just a little anxious. Never did they discuss such matters outside the privacy of the former throne room, but the urgency of the crisis meant they had to figure out something, and fast. “I can’t believe the weasel finally pulled it off.”
“About twelve or thirteen years too late,” Brisack murmured back. “But he did it. Relf and Joriana Shin are dead. I saw their bodies myself and still it’s . . . unbelievable. That’s the only word.” He shook his head, still numb and incredulous. “So, given any thought as to who will replace Shin?”
“There’s only one choice,” Mal whispered, also immensely distracted. “The only one with the access and connections we need right now.”
Brisack nodded once. “And his assistant?”
“Also already chosen. He’ll be the highest man we’ll ever have had placed. Great potential, now.”
“Potential to do what, though?” Brisack sighed and gestured lamely. “Who’s left to challenge?”
Mal’s eyebrows went up. “Who’s left? You seriously asked that? Perrin’s left! You think he’s just going to roll over and accept this? He might even come for the burial.”
Brisack shook his head. “Surely not. Perrin will be on his knees, ruined. Slag!” the good doctor swore and stared out a window filling with early light. “I wanted to be the one who did it! I wanted to crush him, but that stupid weasel beat me to it.”
“What did you have planned?” Mal asked with a hint of a smile.
“Nothing firm,” his companion admitted. “But I had several options.”
“Keep those options, Doctor. Perrin won’t crumble that easily. Just watch. He’ll be here, in grand fashion like a raging bear, and certainly not on his knees.”
Brisack folded his arms. “Then I speculate against you. Perrin’s a sobbing mess somewhere, broken.”
“Remember, he has ways of surprising us.”
“No,” Brisack said, “he always has a way of surprising you.”
“Have you already forgotten how much he surprised you while he was here? But don’t worry, my good doctor; you’ll still get your opportunity. Trust me.”
---
Instead of appreciating the massive buildings, houses, and shops of Idumea, Shem kept glancing over at Perrin, trying to read his face. He was very practiced at it, and what he saw there wrenched his heart.
Perrin regarded everything as if it were betraying him. All the snow was melted in Idumea, revealing vibrant green grasses and an almost obscene amount of flowers; life, bursting out everywhere. But all there was in Perrin’s eyes was death and pain as even Nature seemed to mock him.
As he rode, Shem looked furtively around at the people dressed in fashions and finery far more ridiculous than anything in Edge, and noticed they were all staring back at him, alarmed. He glanced down and saw for the first time how much muck, straw, and dried blood dirtied his uniform.
Perrin was just as deplorable, but on him it worked, making him all the more terrifying.
“Which route do you usually take through the city?” Perrin asked as they turned down another road. The horses were slowed to maneuver around a tipped wagon and the carriages stalled behind it.
“I don’t. My first time here,” Shem confessed.
“But you grew up south of here. You go home every year.”
“But I always avoid Idumea,” Shem explained. “My father made me promise never to come here, so I take the long way around.”
That was one of his conditions Papa had required before he agreed to sign Shem’s form verifying he was of age to join the army. “Don’t ever go to Idumea. You know how I feel about that place.”
When Shem was twenty years old he never intended to break that promise.
Actually, until last night he never intended to break that promise. He felt dishonest about letting down his father, but it was for a good reason.
Not like it was the first time he’d ever been dishonest, or betrayed anyone. Certainly wasn’t going to be the last—
Perrin nodded once. “My apologies to Mr. Zenos for making his boy break his promise.”
“He’ll get over it,” Shem said, “but I see why he hates the place. It’s so crowded I wished I could fly out of here.”
As the horses made their way past the wreckage in the road, Perrin leaned over to Shem. “Then let’s get this over with and get out of here.”
He kicked his heels into his horse and Shem joined him, galloping toward the Administrators’ Headquarters.
People scattered out of the way as the two filthy men rode through the crowds. They stopped abruptly at the white steps of the large orange and red stone building, slid off their horses, and handed the reins to a startled page at the hitching post.
Perrin looked up at the white steps and drew his sword. A woman nearby screamed, but he ignored her as he marched up to the doors.
Shem reluctantly drew his sword as well, received another scream for his effort, and followed Perrin.
The pages at the doors glanced uneasily at each other. The usual crowd traveling the stairs parted quickly with cries of surprise as the colonel and the sergeant took the steps two at a time. Colonel Shin scowled at the two young pages, and immediately they pushed open the doors and stepped out of the way.
More gasps and shouts greeted them as Perrin marched unimpeded through the large and polished hallway and down to the right, Shem on his heels. He prayed he didn’t have to use his weapons today, because there was only one person on whom he would, if necessary.
Scattering like turkeys before a farmer with a hatchet, Idumeans made plenty of room for Colonel Shin to blaze straight to the waiting area of the Conference Room. He didn’t even hesitate when he saw the closed doors.
Shem glanced over to the recording desk where two men in short red jackets sat. One of the men raised his brow in astonishment as he caught Shem’s eye.
Shem did his best to quickly communicate there was about to be a bit of a problem. The other man in red leaped to his feet to protest.
“Sir, you don’t have an—” was all he got out before Colonel Shin kicked open the doors and startled the entire body of the Administrators.
“Good,” Shin said as he barged into the room and stepped u
p to the table. “You’re all here.”
Half of the Administrators scrambled to stand up.
Master Sergeant Zenos, who followed Shin, promptly closed the doors behind him and latched them. A tumbling noise on the other side of the doors suggested several men crashed into them: the Administrative Headquarters guards, arriving just a moment too late. There was muffled shouting behind Shem, calling for the guards to find another way in.
“What’s the meaning of this?!” cried an administrator.
“That’s what I came to find out!” Colonel Shin told him. He looked at each of the men in the room and paused when he saw the unanticipated faces of a general and another colonel standing behind the Chairman. “Cush. Thorne.”
The officers nodded once back.
Shem swallowed and stared straight ahead across the immense table, surprised to find himself facing the most powerful man in the world. At least, Mal thought he was.
Perrin’s gaze also shifted to Chairman Mal and he threw his sword on the polished table. Its clattering echoed in the tall room. “It stays right there, until I get some answers,” Shin explained. “If I don’t hear the truth, I get to use it.”
The Chairman hid his surprise well, Shem thought. His relaxed-and-in-control demeanor had vanished as soon as the colonel stormed through the door, and now he leaned forward on the table, his hands clasped so tightly together that his knuckles were white.
The Administrators that were still standing nervously sat back down, as if worried they presented too easy a target.
Mal glanced over momentarily to the man who was the Administrator of Family Life, according to the gold and wood plaque in front of him. Then Mal shifted his gaze past the colonel to Shem. “Master Sergeant, your sword?”
“Is to defend you, sir,” Shem announced, grateful that his voice was so steady, “and the other Administrators. In case the colonel forgets his promise.”
The Chairman nodded once and Shem thought he suddenly seemed paler.
“What happened?” Colonel Shin demanded. “All that wretched little message said was that the house was invaded and they were killed. That’s all you could spare for the High General and his wife? No more ink than that?”
General Cush lumbered hastily around the table. “Perrin, Perrin! We sent another message, just an hour later, with much more information. The first message was brief because we thought you should know immediately. It’s terrible news, no matter what. I’m so very sorry.” He reached Perrin and tried to put a hand on his shoulder.
But Colonel Shin shrugged it off. “Where were the soldiers?” he asked the room. “How many Guarders? Were they the same that attacked our caravan?”
That last question made all of the Administrators change positions. Some sat up, some slunk down in their chairs, and others leaned forward.
“We have yet to finish discussing the issue of your caravan,” Chairman Mal said coolly.
“You mean the theft!” a man snapped. Shem could just make out the title on the wooden plaque in front of him. Administrator of Loyalty.
“You mean the rescue effort!” countered the Administrator of Security. “Which has brought messages of praise from several villages.”
“A brilliant public relations move, if I do say so myself,” added the Administrator of Culture.
“But a serious violation!” argued another.
The Chairman stood up.
Judging by the stunned looks on the other men’s faces, he never did that. “This discussion will continue another time,” he said loudly.
“Where were the guards, Nicko?” Colonel Shin demanded.
Colonel Thorne came up to the table. “Riplak was, we believe, in the house, and the other four normally stationed around the mansion were there as well,” he reported tonelessly. “Three were killed. One—a corporal—was critically injured. Riplak’s missing.”
Shin squinted. “Missing?”
“Found his jacket.”
“Where?”
Thorne hesitated for the briefest of moments. “In the cook’s bedroom.”
Shin squinted more severely, as if he could see it all if he focused hard enough.
“No one’s seen him since the night before,” said Thorne in a slightly bored tone. “The grounds were thoroughly searched. The cook was seriously injured as well. She’s at the garrison hospital being tended to.”
Cush tried to take Perrin’s arm again, but he flinched at his touch. “Perrin, your parents are there, too. Burial’s not scheduled until this evening. Let me take you there.”
“How’d they get in?” a furious Colonel Shin asked Thorne. “Busy roads, crowded neighborhoods all the way there, and no one saw them? How is that?”
Thorne matched his cold gaze. “They came in the early hours, maybe up to eight of them. From what we can tell they weren’t dressed in their version of uniforms. They looked like farmers. Nothing suspicious about that, is there?”
“In the early morning hours?” Shin challenged.
“Dairy farmers!” Thorne shouted.
“Who saw them? How do you know?”
“The cook gave the description. Ask her yourself!”
“Four Guarders were also captured and brought to Pools,” Shin bellowed at Thorne. “I was told you brought them to the garrison. So what have you learned?”
“Nothing.” Thorne matched Shin’s glare and raised it by several degrees.
“And why not?”
“Because they’re dead!”
Shin threw his hands in the air, ignoring the stunned expressions exchanged between the Administrators. “Oh, now that’s convenient. Come on, Thorne—don’t you know how to deal with Guarders? You’re supposed to check them all over for blades. Didn’t they teach you that in Command School?”
Thorne’s glare was so severe that Shem felt it cutting straight through Perrin and into his own flesh. It was a good thing there was a large table between the two colonels.
That’s when Shem realized he hadn’t taken all of Perrin’s blades, either. While his sword was on the table, he didn’t know where Perrin’s long knife was. Not on his hip, Shem was reasonably sure, but probably in his boot. As long as Perrin didn’t suddenly bend down—
Shem gulped in dread over his own carelessness.
“I took all their blades personally, Shin,” Thorne seethed. “It seems they had a friend who was rather disappointed they allowed themselves to be captured. Sometime during the last evening he entered the garrison prison and killed each one of them.”
Several of the Administrators gasped at the news, but Colonel Shin just slowly shook his head. “What a surprise. How’d you let that happen, Thorne?” He ignored the colonel’s growing sneer. “Thousands of soldiers, and no one notices a Guarder coming in to destroy his associates?”
“Guarders live among us, Colonel,” Thorne said in a dangerous tone, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “That’s quite obvious now. It’s very difficult to know who to trust.”
Shin matched his sneer. “Oh, it most certainly is!”
“Boys, boys!” General Cush said loudly, as if merely breaking up a tussle between two privates. “Everyone’s a bit on edge right now—”
Colonel Shin leaned aggressively on the table, aiming himself at Thorne. “None of this makes sense. Why my father? My mother? Why were your guards so ineffective, Thorne? And why now?”
“Perrin!” Cush said sternly. “We know you’re grieving, but don’t say something you’ll later regret. Come on, let me take you to the mansion—”
“NO!” Perrin shouted, pushing Cush away. “This didn’t have to happen! I know it!”
“Perhaps if you hadn’t left so hastily, Colonel Shin,” the Administrator of Loyalty began in such a smug manner that Shem firmed his grip on his hilt, “you would’ve been there to protect your father and mother.” His tone was like an excited mosquito buzzing around a bleeding gash, delighted to see an easy meal. “Is that what’s bothering you?”
Shem s
hould have anticipated it, but he didn’t.
Colonel Shin exploded onto the table and lunged for his sword. Perhaps that was why the table was so highly polished: it proved to be nearly impossible for him to get traction on his first scrambling attempt.
“NO!” Shem yelled and leaped on the table, tackling the flailing Perrin just as he reached his sword. Shem dropped his own weapon but pinned the colonel to the table.
“Colonel, NO!” Zenos yelled again, wrapping his arm tightly around his throat, his knee firmly in Perrin’s back where he knew there was a growing bruise from their fight hours before.
Colonel Shin, gasping in pain and fury, gripped his sword’s hilt and, despite Shem immobilizing him, managed to aim the tip of the blade just inches away from the Administrator of Loyalty. The terrified man, who was a nauseating shade of gray, didn’t think to push his chair away from the table and out of range.
But two blades were on Shin.
One was Shem’s, who held Grandpy’s long knife to Perrin’s throat with his free hand while keeping him in a choke hold.
The other blade belonged to the sword of Colonel Thorne, who now stood between two ashen Administrators and trained his point just inches away from Perrin’s temple.
“Colonel, please!” Shem whispered into his ear. “Don’t make me do this—”
“How dare you, Gadiman?” Perrin rasped at the Administrator with his last breaths. “Makes me wonder . . . if you didn’t . . . plan this whole thing . . . yourself—”
“Perrin!” Shem snapped.
Gadiman shook as if he would pass out from terror.
Colonel Shin turned purple as the sergeant’s grip tightened. He had only seconds left as his throat gurgled—
“Enough!” Cush cried. “Enough! Off of him! Get his sword, Master Sergeant. Perrin, come on.” The general was doing his best to push his girth between stunned two administrators to reach him. “Enough of this!”
Shem was more than happy to obey the order to release his best friend, and had planned to choke Perrin only until he lost consciousness, which would have happened in another second or two. Gingerly he pulled the sword out of the colonel’s weakened grip and slid off the table as Perrin began to gasp for air.
Cush had a hand on his arm, trying to drag him off the table. “Let’s go to the garrison, Perrin. You need to cool off.”
Colonel Shin’s eyes were glazed and unfocused as he crawled off the table and let General Cush put a supporting arm around him. He was a completely different man, Shem could tell, disconnected from everything around him. It’d been too much, all of it: the news, the long ride, the lack of food and sleep. Perrin could hardly stand as he coughed to refill his lungs.
Another Administrator jumped to his feet. “Let me come with you. I have something—”
“No, Brisack!” the Chairman said abruptly. “Not yet!”
The rest of the Administrators, still stunned by the outburst of Colonel Shin, now turned to look quizzically at either Brisack or Mal.
Brisack raised an inquiring eyebrow himself.
Mal, feeling the stares, swallowed. “I mean that . . . Doctor Brisack, I need a few words with you first, in private. Meet them at the hospital in a little while.”
Doctor Brisack slowly sat down.
Shem, now on the other side of Perrin with an arm around his waist to steady him, remembered the name of Doctor Brisack. He was the one Perrin and Mahrree liked. He might just be their only ally right now.
“Thorne,” Chairman Mal turned to the colonel who still held his sword at the ready, “go with them for now.”
“Yes, sir!” Colonel Thorne said, a little too eagerly, Shem thought.
Thorne quickly moved around the table and unlatched the door. Several men on the other side opened it and fell back quickly as they saw the four soldiers leaving the room: one supported on each side by two others, and the fourth with his sword drawn and trained at the middle man’s neck.
The crowds parted even more rapidly than before as the four men strode—or more precisely, three men strode while one was dragged—through the halls and to the general’s carriage waiting at the back entrance.
Cush carefully pushed Perrin up and into the open carriage where he stared, unseeing and glassy-eyed, at the floor. Shem took the seat next to him as Cush sat across from him. Thorne had a word with the driver, and, with his sword still in hand, sat across from Shem, his focus solely on Colonel Shin.
Shem looked nervously at General Cush, who watched Perrin with fatherly concern. Perrin now stared blankly at the scenery as it passed, not seeing any of it.
Shem cleared his throat politely and Cush shifted his gaze to him.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the master sergeant said. “I should’ve moved faster.” He sent a fleeting look to Colonel Thorne. “I really didn’t think he’d do that.”
General Cush smiled at him kindly. “You did very well, Master Sergeant. I think all of us were surprised. But Perrin’s going to be all right,” he said a bit loudly, as if Perrin had gone deaf. “Aren’t you, son? Just need a little rest, a little time to think. We’ll take care of you.”
Perrin didn’t even blink, but stared vacantly.
Colonel Thorne turned to the sergeant. “It was an impressive move, flattening him like that. You took his breath nearly instantly.”
Shem wasn’t sure how to take that, but the sandy-haired colonel had admiration in his cold blue eyes. “Yes, sir,” seemed to be the safest response. “Thank you.”
Cush leaned over. “Are you by any chance Uncle Shem?”
Shem’s eyes widened. “Uh, yes sir. Master Sergeant Shem Zenos.”
Cush sat back and smiled. “I had a feeling. Heard a lot about you from the Shins. You’re quite the favorite, aren’t you? Ran a few races against our Perrin here? Was even the children’s baby tender when they were younger?”
Shem searched for an appropriate response, and settled on the tried and true, “Yes, sir.”
“The family has a lot of trust in you. So does Perrin, I see,” Cush said. “You’re a good man to have around, Master Sergeant Shem Zenos. You may have preserved a family today.”
The carriage swayed to a halt.
“Oh, what now?” said Thorne crossly. He turned behind him to see an Idumean jam ahead.
“That’s all right.” Cush said. “We’re in no rush, now, are we? Gives us some time to get to know the master sergeant here, and let Perrin have some fresh air. Tell me, Uncle Shem, how long have you been in Edge?”
“Nearly fourteen years, sir. I arrived at the same time as Peto Shin.”
“Are you married?”
“No, sir.”
“Raised near Edge?”
“No, sir. I come from between Flax and Waves. My father owns some land there.”
“So you left home for the other side of the world, did you?” said Cush, surprised.
“Yes, sir. I like the mountains more than I like the sea.”
“That makes you an unusual man, then,” interjected Thorne. “Usually everyone tries to go south.”
Shem looked Colonel Thorne in the eyes and knew what he had to say. He’d been waiting years for the opportunity. “I guess I find the north more appealing, sir.”
Thorne and Cush both smiled at Zenos.
After a silent moment, Thorne said, “Many of us do. Chase many Guarders, Shem Zenos?”
“Yes, sir. More than I care to remember. Sirs, may I ask a question?”
Cush glanced at Perrin, who still stared blankly at the road. “Of course, son.”
“Why are Guarders now living in the city in disguise? Why change the tactics now?”
Thorne cleared his throat slightly, and his father-in-law gave him a brief look. “Go ahead. We have time. And I’m not listening.”
It was times like this that Shem was grateful for his training. While his ears fairly burned at General Cush’s words—and what it seemed he knew and tried to ignore—Shem kept his face completel
y placid as Thorne began to speak.
“When one strategy is no longer satisfying,” Thorne said meaningfully, his gaze focused solely on Shem, “another must be employed, Master Sergeant.”
Shem sighed. “Yes but, why? After all these years, why not make one unified attack—take out the Administrators all at once and set up their own leadership? It certainly seems possible.”
“Yes, but is that what the Guarders want, Zenos?” Thorne said. “Control of the world?”
Shem swallowed. “I’m afraid that right now I don’t know what the Guarders want, sirs.”
Thorne nodded. “That’s understandable, Zenos. But I believe I can help you.”
He sat back, checked that Shin still seemed to be lost in another world, and looked back at the sergeant. “The past several years have demonstrated that the Guarders are a very patient people, Zenos, and they think differently than most. You see, they don’t enjoy the victory, they enjoy the pursuit. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yes,” Shem said slowly. “I believe I do.”
“I believe you do too, Master Sergeant.” Thorne smiled halfway, but his blue eyes remained hard. “Did you ever own a cat, Zenos?”
“We had a couple in the barns,” Shem shrugged, “but I never paid much attention to them.”
“That’s too bad. Cats are highly underrated, Zenos,” Thorne said thoughtfully. “We had an excellent mouser in one of our barns when I was a boy. I would sit and watch her for hours. You see, she was an expert at pursuit and attack. She didn’t need the mice she caught—my mother kept her well-fed—but she caught prey anyway, just for the joy of it. And she always brought what she captured into the barn: moles, squirrels, even large bugs. She’d injure her prey just enough that it couldn’t escape, then she’d watch it struggle for life. She’d stay within a few feet of it, observing it trying to flee, batting it occasionally when it stopped moving. Sometimes she’d leave for a while and let the doomed creature think it could escape.”
Thorne had a chilly smile of appreciation on his face that caused Shem to develop a twitch in his eye.
“Then when the victim least expected it she’d come back and give it a new wound, just to keep herself entertained,” Thorne continued. “And when she tired of it, she’d pounce and kill it, just for something to do. Then she’d leave it to rot and find another victim.
“Once she even caught a falcon. They were after the same prey, and she wounded its wing. She dragged it into the barn and taunted it with the possibility of flying away, but it had no chance. She could jump as high as its injured wing would let it rise, and if it didn’t plummet on its own, she’d smack it down. She studied and tormented that bird for days before it finally began to fail on its own through starvation. Only then did she finish it off.”
The colonel sat back in satisfaction.
“And that’s how Guarders see the world, Master Sergeant Zenos. They are the cats, the world is their barn, and whomever they want is their prey. Just to give them something to do.”
“For entertainment,” Shem clarified.
Thorne tipped his head. “And perhaps a bit of research and gold.”
“A fascinating metaphor, Colonel,” Shem answered, hoping the colonel couldn’t see that his skin had developed goose bumps. “And a disturbingly insightful one as well.”
Thorne smiled more broadly. “I’m glad you appreciate it.”
Shem wasn’t about to contradict his evaluation. This was, after all, a man who as a child enjoyed watching a cat torture a falcon to death. Shem may not have known a lot about the ways of Idumea, but some things are pretty easy to figure out. You don’t disagree with some kinds of men.
Cush leaned forward, apparently hearing the conversation again. “I wouldn’t ask his theory on women if I were you, unless you want to hear ‘fascinatingly disturbing metaphors’ about every barnyard animal that exists. Had I heard those before he married my daughter, I might have changed my mind about giving approval!” He laughed.
Shem tried to smile at him, while Thorne gave a tired and obliging nod to his father-in-law who nudged him.
“Ah, here we are,” Cush said as they pulled into the garrison.
Perrin still showed no awareness of his surroundings as the carriage drove up to the hospital. But as the carriage came to a stop, Perrin slowly looked over at his friend.
Shem shivered. He’d never seen a dead man staring at him before. He helped Perrin out of the carriage and Perrin mumbled, “I want to see my parents now.”
“Perrin, I need to warn you,” Cush said as they assisted him, weakened and clumsy, up the steps and into the main hallway. “The attack was brutal. I’m not sure this is such a good idea, considering your state of mind.”
The surgeon spotted them from down the hall and jogged over to greet them. “Colonel Shin,” he said extending his hand, but Perrin didn’t take it. “I’m so very sorry.” He let his hand drop. “There was nothing I could do, and I was there very quickly.”
“I just want to see them,” Perrin whispered.
The surgeon started to shake his head but then reluctantly nodded. He led the men, Perrin stumbling a bit, downstairs to the holding cellar. Cush and Thorne stayed outside, but Perrin grabbed Shem’s arm.
“I don’t need you to look at them. I just want you to stay with me,” he whispered, his eyes still not focusing on anything clearly.
Shem nodded and put a bracing arm around his waist as they followed the surgeon into the dark and cool cellar. The surgeon lit a lantern and held it before the two covered bodies. Once he gingerly pulled back the cloth covering them, Perrin needed only a moment to verify they were his parents.
He collapsed in Shem’s grip.
“I knew this was a bad idea,” the surgeon said as he caught Perrin’s other arm. “How much sleep has he had?”
“Maybe two or three hours.”
“Food?” the surgeon grunted as Perrin’s weight slowly dragged him down.
“None that I know of, sir,” Shem said as he hefted his friend off the surgeon. “I also sort of choked him recently,” he felt he should add.
“The man needs rest,” the surgeon decided, struggling with Shem to support Perrin between them. “I have just the thing upstairs.”
Shem thought Perrin needed to eat and drink, and maybe be checked over by the surgeon to make sure Shem didn’t cause any lasting damage.
The two men strained to heave him up the stairs, Perrin oblivious and half dead himself. They were followed by Cush and Thorne, who didn’t offer to help with moving the colonel, Shem noted with some irritation. The senior officers posted themselves at the door of the first unoccupied room they found, while Shem and the surgeon laid Perrin down on one of two narrow beds. The surgeon left to speak to his aids while Shem sat helplessly next to his friend.
Perrin just stared blankly at some indistinct spot above the open doorway where the Cush and Thorne stood on guard. It seemed to Shem that only one of them looked concerned. The other kept a finger twitching on the hilt of his sheathed sword.
The surgeon returned soon with his aids and the officers stepped out of his way to let them in. In the surgeon’s gloved hands he held a small brown bottle and a thick cloth.
“Colonel Shin,” he said louder than necessary as he doused the cloth with the something from the bottle, “I want you to breathe this.”
Perrin put a hand awkwardly in front of his face.
Cush and Thorne were now joined at the door by Doctor Brisack. He was slightly winded, having rushed over from the Administrators’ Headquarters. Brisack, seeing what was in the surgeon’s hands, pushed between the two officers and crouched in front of Shin.
“Colonel, this will help. Trust me,” he said.
“No,” Perrin said listlessly. “Just leave me alone.”
The doctors exchanged looks.
“Colonel Shin,” Brisack said more forcefully. “You will breathe this.”
“Don’t make him,” Shem hel
d up his hands. “I’ll take care of him. Just bring him something to eat—”
“He’s not in his right mind, Master Sergeant,” Brisack cut him off. “This will help get him there.” Brisack turned again to his unwilling patient. “You’ll feel nothing, Colonel Shin.”
Perrin sat up abruptly, forcing Shem off the bed and onto the floor. “I already feel nothing, Doctor!” he yelled. “I want to feel better!”
The garrison surgeon motioned to the two aids. They promptly stepped over to the colonel, pushing Shem aside.
“What are you doing?” Shem cried, scrambling to his feet.
The two aids grabbed Perrin’s shoulders and forced him down while Doctor Brisack threw himself on to Perrin’s thrashing legs. The surgeon shoved the cloth onto his face.
“Stop it!” Shem lunged for the surgeon.
But Thorne was faster. He caught Shem’s arm and yanked him back. “It’s all right, Zenos. It will help. I’ve seen it work before.”
Perrin gagged and choked and flailed for what seemed like five minutes, but Shem, feeling helpless in the firm grip of Colonel Thorne, knew it was much shorter than that.
Finally Perrin went completely still, and the doctors smiled at each other in triumph.
“What did you do to him?” Shem cried, staring at his lifeless friend.
“Put him to sleep!” Doctor Brisack said proudly, brushing off his red jacket and straightening his white ruffles. “Fantastically beneficial concoction. We’ve been experimenting with sulfur, acids, gases—”
“And requiring new workrooms when those experiments go awry,” Colonel Thorne interrupted in a loud aside to General Cush.
Brisack scowled at him before turning back to Shem. “It’s still in the testing stage, and we’re working on the potency to get it consistent, but it’s quite harmless.” He sent another withering glare at Thorne, who didn’t even blink. “Perrin will wake up feeling like a new man.” Brisack turned to one of the aids. “Keep administering as needed for the next six hours.”
“I was thinking eight,” said the surgeon who was already handing the bottle and cloth to an aide.
Brisack shook his head. “We don’t want him groggy for the burial.”
The surgeon nodded and motioned to the aide to follow the orders.
“But he didn’t want it!” Shem said miserably, watching Perrin’s very still chest. “Are you sure he’s all right?”
The surgeon checked Perrin’s pulse and smiled. “Strong and steady, just very slow. We call it sedation.”
“It’s all right, Master Sergeant. Really,” said Doctor Brisack, patting his shoulder. “I used some of it just yesterday on a young boy who got in the way of an agitated bull. Poor little thing had a broken leg and a broken arm. Gave him some sedation and he slept right through the most agonizing pain of setting his bones. He woke up later in splints and in much better spirits.”
“But you forced it on him!” Shem tried again, knowing his protests were useless, but feeling as if he should point that out. What Perrin wanted, no one cared about. What was best for him, no one even discussed. All they wanted was for him to be quiet and out of the way.
“He’ll thank us when he wakes,” Cush assured him. “I tell you what, Zenos: take that second bed there. Get some rest yourself. You look exhausted. Stay close to Perrin, and we’ll talk again when he revives.”
Shem sighed at the unconscious figure splayed haphazardly on the narrow bed.
Doctor Brisack walked over to the window and closed the curtains, the thick dark blue cloth hiding the sunlight. He patted Zenos again comfortingly. “It’s been a terrible night and day for him. We’ll be merciful when it’s time to discuss the repercussions of his behavior. The man’s been forced to his knees. Even lower.”
Something in the manner in which the doctor said those last words made Shem think he was happy about it. But Shem must have been more tired than he realized.
“Rest, Sergeant,” Brisack said kindly. “Then the two of you can prepare for the burial this evening.” He gently pushed Shem onto the other bed next to Perrin, and the men filed out the room.
After they closed the door, Shem got up, checked Perrin’s slow pulse himself, and frowned in apology. He repositioned Perrin’s legs more comfortably, lifted his arm hanging off the bed onto his belly, put a pillow under his heavy head, and carefully placed a gray wool blanket over him.
Still deeply worried, Shem watched him for a moment. Eventually he leaned over and positioned his ear almost next to Perrin’s nose and mouth to hear him breathe. After a minute he was satisfied that Perrin was only in a deep sleep.
Shem considered taking off Perrin’s boots, but the exhaustion of the night and the excitement of the morning began to overwhelm him. He sat on the bunk, just for a moment to rest—
He didn’t notice when he fell over, unconscious.
---
No one really ate their breakfast, but just sat at the table staring past the beautiful spread Hycymum created. She wasn’t eating either, just pushing around bits of dried berries in the last of the syrup.
“She was always so kind about the fashions we had here in Edge,” she said quietly, continuing the reminiscing they began last night. Hycymum had said that before, but Mahrree knew her mother needed to talk it out. And talk. And talk.
Someone might as well talk.
“I knew that what we had in our market would never match Idumea, but Joriana always helped me find the best items. She never told me they had silk sheets.”
Mahrree felt a pang of regret she didn’t bring back her gray gown, just for her mother to play with.
“Imagine . . . silk sheets.”
Jaytsy sniffed repeatedly as she rested her head on her hand, and Peto stared glumly at his plate. Mahrree took a few tentative bites of breakfast, but oddly it all tasted of ash.
The only one who ate anything was Major Karna, who stood at the front windows with his plate of pancakes and berries, wolfing them down and squinting out the thick wavy windows.
“Really need to replace these with something thinner and clearer,” he murmured to himself, but in the dreadful silence of the house his words carried to the eating table. “I can barely make out who are soldiers and who aren’t. Serious security concern. Then again, I can’t see anything clearly out of this eye.” He closed his good eye experimentally, shook his head in disappointment, and swallowed down the last bite of food.
Hycymum smiled dismally at him. At least someone still had a working stomach, but it seemed to Mahrree that Brillen ate more because of nerves than hunger.
He returned the plate to the table and nodded once to Hycymum. “Thank you, Mrs. Peto. I should visit the Inn more often—once it opens again—if everything tastes as good as that.” He turned to Mahrree. “I’m going to get an update from the soldiers. The sergeant we sent out after Perrin and Shem should’ve returned with word by now.” His shoulder twitched.
Actually, the sergeant should have returned last night, but he, just like the colonel and the master sergeant, was missing.
Mahrree smiled feebly. “Thank you, Brillen. I’m sure we’ll be fine for the day. We have enough guards.”
“I’ll be back,” he promised her as he picked up his cap. “I’ll stay the night again. Just in case.”
Mahrree nodded, conflicted. It was good to have an experienced officer in the house, but his presence also reminded her as to why he had to be there.
He sent a strained smile to the children, who didn’t notice, before he headed out the back door and slammed it just like Perrin did.
Mahrree’s heart would have broken at the sound, if it weren’t already in too many little pieces.
“Guess I should clean up,” Hycymum said quietly and took up Karna’s plate. “Nice man. Even with his thinning hairline and whatever happened to his eye—” she diplomatically referred to the swelling and bruising caused by Perrin, “—he’s a pleasant looking fellow. Needs to find himself a woman.”
Saying her husband’s name sent her thoughts in a completely different direction, and she couldn’t finish the sentence.
Hycymum nodded in understanding. “Need to clean up,” was all she could say as she took the dishes to the kitchen.
“So what do we do today?” Jaytsy whispered to her plate.
“I just want to go back to bed,” mumbled Peto.
“I know,” Mahrree sighed. “But I fear just staying around here will make us all feel worse.”
“So what do we do?” Jaytsy asked again.
“Everything. There’s rubble to move, logs to drag, people to comfort—”
“Like us,” said Peto dismally. “Why haven’t they come back yet?”
Mahrree swallowed. “I don’t know. Maybe . . . maybe they’re sleeping somewhere. Your father will be feeling as low and depressed as you are, I’m sure. Shem’s likely just letting him rest, and then they’ll be back.” She couldn’t make any of that sound convincing, because she was wondering the same thing: Why haven’t they come back?
Unless . . .
Unless something more horrible than her in-laws murder was happening—
She stood abruptly from the table. “I have to do something, and so do you two. Up! If we’re busy, we can’t think, right?”
Her children half-heartedly pushed back their chairs and followed her to the shed to retrieve the shovels.
---
Hew Gleace stared, disbelieving, at the man in green and brown mottled clothing. For a minute he couldn’t say a word, and the man in front of his desk licked his lips nervously, waiting for some kind of response.
“He’s really gone?”
The man nodded. “Your brother-in-law visited the Shins himself. They were devastated.”
“Naturally, naturally,” Gleace said, not focusing on anything as his eyes darted around his desk. “Unbelievable. I didn’t expect this—I mean, there was always talk and plans and . . . But they actually killed both the High General and his wife. Unbelievable,” he whispered again. “How did I not see this coming?” he murmured. “There was no . . . Someone just . . . And now Shem’s gone after him?”
He covered his mouth with his hand as he pondered this latest development.
Eventually he said, “This will change everything.”
Chapter 24 ~ “Can you help him see reason?”