by Trish Mercer
The next day was the day before Holy Day, when the visiting families were scheduled to leave for their homes. But no one wanted to go.
Perrin didn’t wake up easily that morning. His breathing was quick and shallow when Boskos arrived.
“He slept all right,” Mahrree told him fretfully as she watched Boskos taking his pulse. “A little bit of thrashing, but that’s just the way he always sleeps.”
“His pulse is getting faster,” Boskos said with a sigh. He looked up as his father came into the bedroom.
“How is he, Bos?”
Boskos looked at Mahrree then back to Shem, as if unable to face her with the news. “I think he’s getting worse.”
Mahrree sat down limply on the bed next to her husband. “No, no, no . . .”
Shem knelt in front of her. “Mahrree, all of Salem is fasting today. He’s in the Creator’s hands.”
“I know, Shem. And so does he. We talked last night. But I’m just not ready . . .”
Shem took her hands and kissed them. “Keep faith, Mahrree. I still need my big brother as well. I keep telling the Creator that.”
It was a very long day. Mahrree rarely left his side, waiting for him to wake up and notice her, to give her some hope. But whenever his eyes opened, it was to look vaguely around before closing again.
At dinner time he finally awoke, just as all of Salem was offering their final prayers for him before eating their first meal that day.
He looked at Mahrree and smiled. “Sorry I haven’t been around too much today.”
“That’s all right,” she said, kissing his cheek. “You’re here now, and you’re going to get better.”
He took her hand and slowly lifted it to his lips. “Of course, my darling wife.” He kissed her hand.
That evening a visitor came to the house, and while Mahrree had been sending all of them away, this one she let into their bedroom, because Perrin had sent for him.
He opened his eyes slowly and tried to smile at his guest.
“Now this is when I should challenge you to a wrestling match!” Jothan Hifadhi announced. “I could beat you with one arm tied behind me.”
Perrin could barely chuckle at the man who, while a couple years older than him, was still just as strapping as he’d always been. The only thing that had changed on Jothan was that his curly black hair had gone gray. Perrin was frequently amazed how much he now resembled his grandfather Guide Tuma Hifadhi.
“You always could’ve beaten me with only one arm,” Perrin said. He nodded to Mahrree to close the door, and she nodded back as she left. She didn’t ask why, but Perrin had told her he needed to speak to Jothan alone.
Gingerly he sat down on the bed next to Perrin and touched his forehead. “What’s going on with you? Trying to heat up the house? It’s already a hot Weeding Day outside. Time to stop this nonsense.”
But Perrin could see through Jothan’s attempt to be jovial. He wasn’t normally so chatty about nothing.
“How’s Asrar?” Perrin asked.
“She’s ill, too, or she would’ve come. She’s afraid you’d catch her cough on top of whatever’s ailing you.”
“Very conscientious,” Perrin whispered.
Jothan startled him by grabbing his hand. “Fight it, Perrin. Please, fight it,” he whispered earnestly.
“Trying to,” he told him. “It’s tough.”
“Yes, you are. Always were.” Jothan’s brown eyes flooded with tears. “We’re going to start having shared descendants in a year or so. I’m eager to see how that great-grandson of ours will shape up.”
“So am I,” Perrin murmured. “You train him well—”
“We’ll train him well,” Jothan said, tears dribbling down his face. “Come on, Perrin. You can beat this. This is nothing compared to what you’ve faced before!”
“Trying to,” he repeated. “Until then, Jothan, do something for me?”
“Of course.”
Perrin shifted his thumb to be on top of the faint scar on Jothan’s hand, a thin pale line that still remained on his dark skin from when Perrin tried to stab a Guarder behind him, but instead stabbed Jothan who had come to his rescue.
“A few years ago I spoke with you and Guide Gleace about some impressions I had,” Perrin began vaguely.
“You mean a very vivid dream you had,” Jothan said. “Seven years ago, shortly before Shem became the next guide. I remember it, every last detail.”
“Do you also remember,” Perrin said, “Shem’s response to my dream about him?”
Jothan smiled sadly. “I do. He didn’t want to think about it, at all.”
“I shared it not only with him, but with you and Guide Gleace, because I knew that someday one of us would need to press him to do his duty.”
“And we will.”
Perrin fingered his scar apologetically. “No, my dear friend: you will. You’ll be the only one left—”
Jothan’s chin bobbled. “Stop talking like that. Stop—”
“I saw you there, Jothan. In that dream, I saw you there. He’s going to need you that day, whenever that is. I don’t know if it’s the Last Day, or a day long before it, but he’ll hesitate. He’s going to need reminding, and you will say the words that’ll get him remembering his duty.”
“Because you’ll be busy with some other important task,” Jothan said easily. “Because I’ll be sitting around, doing nothing of consequence, and will have all the time in the world. So to speak.”
Perrin winked pitifully at him, and Jothan squeezed his hand back so tightly that Perrin was sure that something cracked.
“Promise me you’ll watch out for Shem,” Perrin asked.
“You know I will. I’ve been watching out for him even before you were. But only for about a week or so,” Jothan decided. “Only until you’re back on your feet again.”
But Dr. Toon had a different diagnosis when he came by that night to check the wound again. He sent Mahrree to go get some dinner while he examined Perrin alone. His eyes said it all.
“Just let me know, Doctor,” Perrin said quietly when he saw his reaction. “What’s it doing?”
“It’s not healing, General. The discoloration, the striations,” his voice faded. “Honestly I don’t think you’re strong enough to handle an amputation at this point—”
“That’s all I needed to know, Doctor. I’ve known for a while,” Perrin said calmly. “And I’m all right with that. How long do you think I have?”
Dr. Toon sighed heavily. “It could still heal, General. It could surprise us and—”
“I’ve had enough surprises in my life. It’s all right,” he repeated. “How long?”
The doctor shook his head. “I really don’t know. Hours. Weeks. Days. I’m sorry I can’t give you a better idea. Perrin, I’m so sorry,” he said, his eyes growing wet.
“Thank you for being honest.” Perrin offered a small smile. “You’ve done a wonderful job, with Boskos too. Do me a favor, please? Send Mahrree in for me to tell her, but will you let everyone else know? Call the Zenoses over as well. If they are all together it may be easier for them to deal with it. I’ll take care of my wife.”
Dr. Toon smiled sadly at him. “You really are one of the bravest men who ever lived, aren’t you?”
---
The Shin-Briter-Zenos families assembled worriedly about ten minutes later in the Shins’ large gathering room.
A few minutes after that, they collapsed together into a wet huddle of tears and they stayed like that for the next hour, except for one teenage boy who bolted from the room.
Young Pere didn’t need to be around a bunch of weeping weaklings. When Dr. Toon told them the news that General Shin would likely not recover, he ran to his bedroom, took the book from under his bed, and darted out to the barn. He climbed into the loft, sat down in the straw, and skimmed in the growing dark the pages he finished reading last night.
The rescue of Edge. The attack on the caravan. Colonel Shin’s defeat of sixteen Guarder
s, without receiving more than a few nicks himself. The death of Colonel Shin’s parents. His furious ride back to get revenge. His probation. The memorial service for the victims of the land tremor. The thousands of people chanting “General Shin.” Perrin Shin rejecting the idea . . .
He slammed the book shut in disgust and threw it into the straw.
Perrin Shin was giving up. Just when he could triumphantly return to the world, he was quitting.
No wonder he and Shem would have failed.
---
The barn was the only place Deck could think of bringing her. She was too distraught to remain around the children, but needed to weep and wail and beat on his chest before she could return home to comfort their family.
Besides, in the darkening barn she wouldn’t see his tears.
“Deck, he can’t go!” Jaytsy sobbed as she pounded on his chest again. She was beginning to lose strength. Maybe the bruising wouldn’t be so bad.
“We’ve fasted for him! I still need him—there are still newborns to nap in his arms, to know their Puggah! Deck, no . . .” She finally collapsed on to the ground, weeping, cradled in her husband’s arms.
“I know, Jayts, I know. He’s become my father, too. I never expected to mourn a father twice in my life.”
---
Young Pere, still in the loft of the barn, looked down at his aunt and uncle crying together in the straw.
“Look what you’re doing to them, General Shin,” he whispered angrily. “If you were just a little stronger, a little braver . . .”
---
In Guide Zenos’s office, the door remained shut long past midnight. On the small sofa, Shem sat with his arms around his wife, quietly telling her all the stories she’d already heard about Shem and his big brother.
If he kept talking, maybe Perrin would keep living.
---
Peto sat on the edge of his bed again late at night, staring dully at his wardrobe, as if his eyes could penetrate the wood and read the thick parchment folded in the envelope under his sweaters.
His mother had sent him to bed, promising she would send for him if she needed him.
His wife sat behind him, waiting for him to move.
He didn’t.
Not even when the four youngest children crowded into bed with Lilla to be comforted.
He stared at the wardrobe all night long.
---
In Perrin and Mahrree’s bedroom, their pillows became wet from their combined tears as they held each other as tightly as they could.
Sometime during the night, before he drifted into an exhausted sleep, Perrin kissed his wife.
“But maybe this is the way it’s supposed to be, Mahrree. The last two generals named Shin died in bed while lying next to their wives. Pere by a heart attack, Relf by a Guarder attack, perhaps me by a thorn attack. Who am I to break the tradition?”
---
The next morning was Holy Day.
Everyone woke with bleary eyes. None of the children in any of the families slept well that night, and many spent the night in the beds of their parents.
If there was competition for who looked worst, Peto would’ve won. He went to check on his father early in the morning, decided he wouldn’t leave his side, and sent Nool to one of his counselors asking that he conduct the congregational services that day.
Then he stood at his father’s bedroom door.
“I refuse to have this conversation with you,” he said, folding his arms.
“Peto,” Perrin’s voice came weakly, but with undeniable firmness, “I don’t have time for—”
“You have plenty of time—”
“No, son, I do not. Now get in here and sit down. Show some respect!”
Peto sighed and sat down reluctantly by his father’s side. “I always respect you.”
“I know you do,” Perrin said dismissively. “Now, you know where all of my papers are in the desk.”
Peto closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears. “You’re not leaving me. Not leaving us. I refuse to let you go. We don’t need to have this conversation—”
“Peto,” Perrin whispered so earnestly that his son had to open his eyes, “I don’t mind going. I’m not afraid, I’m not worried, and I’m not even concerned about Mahrree. I know all of you will take excellent care of her. It’s all right for me to go; I know exactly where I’m headed.”
Peto sniffed and nodded, blinking back tears as he watched the Greatest General the world never saw.
Never would see. The prophecy was dying.
“I know, too, where you’re going.”
“So no more tears,” the general insisted. “At least, not for me. I’m heading off on an amazing adventure.”
Peto chuckled sadly. “I can’t help it,” he said, wiping his nose. “I just never thought that—”
“Well, we should!” Perrin declared with as much energy as he could muster. “We plan for babies coming into the world, we should plan for our exit out of it as well. I don’t know why we avoid talking about the inevitable.”
“Because baby births are joyful events,” Peto pointed out. “But dying—”
“Oh, there’s always someone happy when someone else has died,” Perrin waved feebly, his eyes twinkling. “But truly, son, there will be great joy. There are a few people I’ve missed over the years who I’m rather eager to see again. I suspect they may be happy to see me again, too. Death isn’t an end. You know that. It’s just . . . a promotion. Graduating from this life, moving on to the next one. If anything, you should be feeling rather envious of me. Think of everything I’ll soon see, know, remember, and learn! Any question I’ve ever had, I’m going to know the answer to, very soon. Really, son, can’t you see how exciting all of this is?”
Peto chuckled with new tears. “This is what I’ll miss. You and Mother have always seen things from odd angles, and I need those reminders that things aren’t always as they seem.” His voice cracked, and he paused to try to compose himself. “I just can’t get over how much I’m going to miss everything about you,” he choked out. “And I do believe I’m allowed to be sorrowful about missing your companionship. It’s not a sin to be sad, you know!”
Perrin smiled faintly, then let it fade. “There’s only one thing I don’t know, son. Get The Writings,” he nodded to the book on the bed table. “Hew Gleace’s prophecy. You know the one.”
Peto pulled the book off the nearby table and opened it to the prophecy a much younger version of him witnessed the guide receiving, along with his father and Shem.
“The Last Day, at the ancient temple site?” Peto guessed.
“Yes. I said it then, and I’ll say it again: Gleace said Idumea would come with about 75,000 soldiers, and one third would be lost to fear.”
Peto nodded as he read the words silently to himself, although he didn’t need to; the entire morning when Gleace saw in vision how the Last Day would play out was so clearly impressed on Peto’s mind that he remembered every detail of it.
“Peto, I still don’t know how to scare them away,” General Shin confided, his voice tinged with desperation. “You and I have done everything else—secured the paths, created emergency shelters, increased the valleys’ storage and resources—but I never figured out how to scare 25,000 men desperate for land and food. I kind of thought I wouldn’t go until I did figure out that mystery, but . . .”
His voice gave out on him, and he cleared his throat gruffly.
“Anyway, son, I’m sorry to leave that burden on your shoulders. It’s been wonderful to have you by my side in all of this. I never could’ve imagined a better life for either of us. Thank you for being with me every step of the way.”
Peto sniffed loudly and wiped his nose on his sleeve like a toddler. Soon he’d be blubbering like one, too. “You just can’t go, Father,” he begged in a whisper. “I can’t do this without you. You’re the general!”
Perrin scoffed lightly. “Just a title, Peto. It mean
t nothing. We still would have done the work without the title.”
“It’s more than just a title, Father,” Peto said earnestly. “It’s your destiny, your—” He stopped. It was useless, and he knew it. Even if he pulled out the words written by Relf Shin so many years ago declaring that his son would become the greatest general the world ever saw, Perrin wouldn’t believe it.
Because he was dying. Peto could smell it in the air.
As a rector, he’d frequently encountered that unique scent which seemed to slip into the house of the dying as a gentle warning that there was nothing left to be done, but to say goodbye.
He’d never expected to encounter it in his own house. Then again, neither did many of those he served as rector.
Perrin smiled weakly at him. “It’s all right, son. My life has been better than I hoped it would be. And this is a very proper and excellent end.”
Peto could only squeeze his hand and said, “Get some rest, Father.”
While no one went to the congregational meeting, the day still had a sacred feel to it. None of the visiting families went home that day, either, but stayed at the Eztates to be near Puggah who drifted in and out of sleep, and back and forth between consciousness and hallucination.
Mahrree never left his side. Except for once, when Calla insisted she get some fresh air, and Lilla took her turn to sit next to Perrin.
He opened his eyes and he looked around.
Lilla saw her father-in-law awake and jumped slightly. “You’re up!”
“In a manner of speaking,” he said slowly. “Where’s Mahrree?”
“She’s been here all morning, but Calla just took her outside for a little walk,” she said apologetically.
Perrin nodded. “Good. I know she’s been here. Fresh air sounds like a good idea.” He sighed and closed his eyes.
“Do you need anything?” Lilla asked gently.
“No, just your company.”
Lilla sagged. “I’m not sure how entertaining I can be.”
“Oh, you’ve always been entertaining,” Perrin whispered. “From the first day.”
“Perrin, can I tell you something?”
He opened his eyes to see that she looked very concerned. “Well, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Perrin, I need to tell you that, well, from the very first day . . . how do I put this?” She paused, then blurted, “You’ve always terrified me!”
“Me?”
“Oh, yes! When you came to Norden and I saw Peto . . . Well, I’d seen him at Shem and Calla’s wedding, but he was so odd, just sitting in the grasses, staring at me. I immediately decided he was far too serious for me. Can you imagine? But then when you and Shem and Peto came to our place before that first marking trip of yours . . . I saw him and I knew . . . You know how it is, when you see someone and you just know? Like you did with Mahrree, you just knew? Anyway,” she rushed on not waiting for his response, but taking his smile as his answer. “When I saw Peto, oh! I just had to be near him! It was as if he came all that way just to find me. But he was your son. Yes, even though I called you the captain or something like that, I always knew you were the general. How could I not? Remember, I grew up listening to Calla’s stories every night. Most girls hear tales about handsome young farmers, but Calla told me the tales of the Army of Idumea. But I had to go with you on that trip, I knew it. So,” she paused to take a breath before continuing to plow on.
Perrin couldn’t have stopped her even if he wasn’t ill.
“When I saw that bear, on the trail that second day, I knew I had to make an impression on you. I couldn’t fall in love with Peto and fear you. So I thought, I am going to impress him and scare off that bear. So I did. Oh, I was terrified, but I was more frightened of you. I mean, what if you didn’t like me? What if you wanted someone more delicate, or prettier, or not so ‘healthy’ for your only son?” Lilla looked at him with pained eyes. “Yes, I know what you mean by ‘healthy’.”
Perrin slowly raised his hand and beckoned for her to take it.
She did so cautiously.
“Lilla, now I have something to tell you. You have always terrified me.”
Lilla pulled back surprised, but Perrin didn’t release her hand. Instead, he did his best to grin. “Truly, who breaks out into song in the middle of the forest, singing about buzzing butterflies and whatever it was?”
Lilla began to blush, then grin.
Perrin continued, “I couldn’t help but think, ‘I’m lost in the woods with a crazy young woman, and my son is falling for her.’ What father wouldn’t be worried? And then,” Perrin tried to sit up but decided against it. “Then, you hugged Shem, after you scared off that bear. At first I thought it was an excuse to get to hug Peto next.”
Lilla nodded guiltily.
“But then you hugged me as well. Now, that’s just not normal. You hug everybody. All the time. Terrifying,” he added again with feigned solemnity.
“It’s normal where I come from!” Lilla laughed softly.
“No,” he whispered. “I’ve been to Norden, and it is not.” He squeezed her hand with the little strength he had.
Lilla squeezed it back.
“And now,” Perrin said softly, “I do want something from you.”
“Anything, Perrin.”
“My darling daughter, because I do think of you that way, why are you suddenly calling me ‘Perrin’? ‘Papa Pere’ kind of grew on me.”
Lilla’s eyes glistened. “You have always been my Papa Pere, and you always will be.”
That afternoon Perrin asked to be brought to the back porch. He wanted to see all of the family together while he still felt strong enough.
Solemnly they assembled, and Peto, remembering years ago his injured grandfather in Idumea, had two of his sons drag the biggest sofa out to the porch. Then four young men carried Perrin outside and laid him on it. He tried to sit, but didn’t have the strength.
Mahrree assured him everyone could still hear if he lay down. She sat on the porch next to the sofa and held his hand as he looked over the collective Shin, Briter, and Zenos families.
His voice was faint as he said, “It’s hard to believe that just one week ago I stood on this porch bellowing at all of you about your assignments in the morning. I know not all of you were listening to me then, but you are now. I see now that the way to get your attention is to speak softly.” He smiled. “I guess it’s never too late to learn something new. And I’ve never seen all of you so quiet! Another miracle.”
The family chuckled sadly, trying to match his smile.
“I’ve had some time to do some thinking recently, when I didn’t think I was in a snowstorm in Idumea. And since none of you went to the congregational meeting this morning, I decided it’s my turn to deliver the day’s sermon. If that’s all right with our rector and the guide.”
Peto and Shem nodded at him with forced smiles.
“There’s much on my mind, but I can’t seem to organize it well. Forgive me if my words seem confused. And on that, I hope you all can forgive a great many things. I’ve been thinking about answers. About listening. I didn’t always listen well, especially when I was young. I had my own ideas, my own plans. What I needed to know was to recognize when the Creator told me no. As important as it is to know when He tells us ‘yes,’ I think it’s more important to know when He’s trying to tell us ‘no.’ I often ignored Him when I didn’t get the answer I wanted. But when I listened to Him, everything worked out so much better.”
He tried to focus on Young Pere, but his grandson wasn’t focusing on him.
“I’ve also been thinking about . . . hidden help.” His words were slowing and labored; but, ploddingly, he got out each one. “No, I’m not hallucinating. Shem knows what I’m talking about. I know it’s not the anniversary of our coming to Salem, but I want to tell you a bit about the Moorland offensive. I spent days working on a plan to root out the Guarders. I had every detail planned out perfectly. And Shem kn
ew everything I was going to do. It was a fantastic success. I was praised on every front. But a few years later I learned it wasn’t all my doing. In the forest just beyond my sight were masses of Salemites, and they were the ones who made the attack a success. They intercepted a traitor named Beneff on his way to the Guarders, and they made sure that the vast majority of Guarders who ran into the forest never ran back out.
“Some of your relatives were there. Ivy, your great uncle was one of them. So was a cousin of Sam and Con’s mother. And Wes, well, there’s nothing more I can say about your great-grandfather Jothan that I haven’t already said a dozen times before. He did as much for us as Shem. Here I thought it was all my success. But it wasn’t. The Creator sent others to help me, and I never knew they were there.
“But that wasn’t the only time He’s done that. He does it all the time, every day. We are always surrounded by help that we can’t see and don’t realize are there. But they are. I promise you that.
“I have felt them, your ancestors, many times. Paradise isn’t some far off place. Paradise is here. Dying doesn’t mean leaving your family. It just means moving to the other side of the forest, to fight the battles, unseen, from over there. Dying isn’t the end. It’s just a promotion. I’m not afraid to go. After doing this for so long, I’m eager to see what my new rank will be,” he said with a smile as faint as his voice.
The family members who weren’t quietly sobbing tried to give him brave smiles back. Very few were successful.
“I see it’s useless to tell you to not be sad. I suppose it’s all right to be a little sad about someone leaving. But it’s only for a short time. Our lives are only a temporary condition. The Writings tell us we existed long before this Test, and we will continue to exist for long after it. This separation will be but for a brief moment. And we can handle anything temporarily, right?”
Only a few nodded.
He tried to smile again but felt his energy sapping away. His voice would give out soon, but there was one more thing he wanted to say. “You are the greatest army I could’ve ever imagined. I am proud of each and every one of you, and I love you more than I could ever express. I’ve often wondered what my legacy would be. Now I know. Thank you for being my legacy.”
It was probably good that was all he could say, because Jaytsy broke ranks and rushed up to him, sobbing. She kneeled down in front of him and laid her head lightly on his chest. She wasn’t alone; several of her family followed her, waiting for their turns. She kissed her father gently on the lips.
“Just don’t say goodbye, Jayts,” Perrin whispered to her.
She nodded, then reluctantly moved back to let Salema smooth his white hair and kiss his forehead. She would have stayed next to him, except Lilla was waiting.
For the next half hour, the descendants of Perrin Shin each took their turns with him, but no one said goodbye, per his request. Instead they told him they loved him, then halfheartedly moved away to let the next person squeeze his hand, or kiss his cheek, or ruffle up his hair.
---
Mahrree sat next to him, silently weeping as she watched each of their children and grandchildren have the opportunity to not say goodbye.
It was another tender mercy from the Creator, Mahrree decided. She considered how many times he could’ve abruptly been taken from them over the decades. But he was granted the opportunity to touch them all one last time.
When Deck, the last one to make it to Perrin, bent down to kiss his forehead and thank him for being his second father, Perrin was visibly weakened, not only from his fever but from the outpouring that overwhelmed him.
Mahrree leaned over to him. “Let’s get you inside. Boskos suggested that the afternoon heat might make you feel worse.”
“No,” Perrin whispered. “It’s a perfect day. Let’s enjoy it on the bench by the orchard. We can sit in the shade and watch our grandchildren catch grasshoppers.”
“That sounds like a perfect afternoon to me.”
A few minutes later four of Perrin’s grandsons carried him over to the bench, padded by several thick blankets provided by his granddaughters, and gently laid him down.
“Let me go get your pillow,” Mahrree said.
“Your lap will be the best pillow I could ask for,” he mumbled. Mahrree sat down at the end of the bench and let her husband rest his head. “See? Perfect again.”
She smiled and ran her fingers through his thick hair. “Have I told you today that you are the most wonderful man in the world, and that I love and adore you more than words can say?”
Perrin closed his eyes. “Actually, I can’t think of a day when you didn’t,” he said slowly. “But that’s because you were always the most perfect woman in the world. Thank you for marrying me.”
“Thank you for asking.” But then she realized, “Actually, now that I think about it, you never really did ask me to marry you. You said something like, ‘Can we continue our debates forever,’ but you didn’t actually ask me to marry you.”
Wearily, he opened his eyes. “I’m not going to debate that right now, woman,” he whispered.
“Then just tell me you love me.”
“I love you. I always have.”
“I love you, too. I always will.”
Perrin smiled as he closed his eyes.
Mahrree sat on the bench with her husband’s head on her lap for the balance of the afternoon. The little ones brought them flowering weeds and laid them on the ground below Perrin. He smiled once as he heard some of his granddaughters offer to bring Mahrree a pillow which she declined.
She sat soaking in the warmth of the day, deliberately not thinking about tomorrow, or any days after that, as she slowly ran her fingers through Perrin’s shaggy white hair, damp with sweat, and kept her other hand on his broad chest to feel his heart continue to beat, albeit erratically. This was the only day in their lives that mattered.
At one point he opened his eyes.
“Ready to go inside?” she asked.
“That’s not where I want to be,” he whispered.
“Have to go in again some time.”
“Not planning on it.”
“What do you mean, Perrin?”
“I refuse to die in our bed,” he said quietly. “I won’t let you go back to that every night, knowing that’s where I was when I went.”
Tears filled her eyes again. She didn’t know she had any more. “But . . . what about the General Shin tradition?”
Slowly he whispered, “Since when am I one to foolishly follow the traditions of my ancestors? We should be like Hogal and Tabbit instead. Outside, resting on your lap. Just need a bonfire.”
Mahrree wiped away her tears that had splashed on her husband’s face. “Oh Perrin, what will I do without you?”
“Who says you’ll be without me—”
Suddenly his face contorted, his breathing quickened, and his body tensed and shuddered.
Mahrree put her hand on his chest again and felt his heart racing.
“You’re right, Perrin, as always. I won’t be alone,” she said hurriedly, frantically, unable to bear seeing him suffer. “You can go. Remember, I’ll always love you.” She bent over and kissed his lips.
He stopped thrashing. His body went still. A quiet gasp slipped through his lips.
Mahrree patted his chest for his heartbeat.
But Perrin was gone.
Chapter 14--“Show me the miracle now!”