Flight of the Wounded Falcon

by Trish Mercer

Deck rode fast with his son Viddrow and nephew Nool toward the Idumean Trail, the southernmost route to the ancient temple site.

  It was a race, after all, but his heart wasn’t in it. No one’s was. He had hoped the speed of the horse would help jar the odd feeling that accompanied him, but so far that hadn’t happened.

  Early that morning, much of the family had met again to say goodbye to the men heading to the routes, but it wasn’t anything like the laughing, teasing departure of less than a season ago.

  First, there were no little ones. Just wives and mothers saying goodbye, and Con and Sam Cadby were too busy helping their father and neighbors with the grape harvest to take two days off.

  Second, they were breaking up into separate groups. It felt wrong for Deck to watch his Cephas go with Peto, Boskos, and Zaddick. They’d be re-marking the Back Door route, which hadn’t seen anyone for six years. While it was the shortest and quickest route, it was also the steepest and most dangerous. That’s why they had newly official Dr. Boskos Zenos, who had recently passed his final exams. They also had to find an emergency storage cavern, so they needed an extra man.

  But splitting up the families?

  Deck knew Peto felt it as well. He had patted Deck on the back before they left and whispered, “I’ll take good care of your Cephas, I promise. Just like you’ll watch my Nool.”

  The rest of the men and teenage boys were divided up to take the other three routes. Cambo Briter led one group, Lek Zenos, who became the father to Perrin Zenos only three days earlier, took another, and Relf Shin led the third.

  Shem wasn’t coming either, but he had seen them off with a prayer that promised those staying at home that each man would return safely this time.

  But Mahrree insisted on tearfully hugging and kissing each one again anyway. That morning she was worse than Grandma Trovato.

  Noticeably missing were two men named Perrin Shin. That was the oddest part of all. These trips had always been led by the general, and as the men mounted their horses, they half expected to hear his deep voice bellowing that it was long past time to go.

  Instead there was only a subdued Shem wishing them well and expecting them home for a family dinner the next evening.

  Deck was rarely a man to show emotion, but as he nudged his horse over to Shem, he felt his chin trembling.

  “Sure you can’t come along, Guide? Doesn’t seem right to be going to the temple site without you.”

  Shem patted Deck’s leg. “I have three ill assistants and we’re a little backed up because of . . . everything.” Then he sighed and added in a whisper. “There are a great many things not right today, Deckett Briter. Thank you for being one of the things that is. I’ve always been able to count on you.”

  Deck cleared his throat, nodded to the guide, and clucked his horse into a gallop before anyone could see the tears in his eyes.

  They were riding light, with only a pack for their food and a bedroll. Peto had tried to lift the mood of the day by suggesting they race to see which route was the fastest from the Eztates.

  Relf’s group, finishing the Norden route, had protested the idea. “We have the farthest to go!” Kew reminded his father.

  “Yes, you do,” Peto acknowledged. “But that route is mostly marked, and you won’t be stopping by your grandmother’s, either. Besides, whoever gets to the site first also has to gather all the firewood for the evening.”

  “So it might be good to come in last?”

  Peto nodded. “That’s the way races in Salem are supposed to work, Kew.”

  Almost everyone had laughed, even though it wasn’t that funny. They just needed something to get them smiling.

  Peto barely twitched his mouth. No one had seen him smile in the nearly two weeks since Young Pere had bolted.

  It wasn’t long before Deck, Viddrow, and Nool reached the southernmost trail. They called it the Idumean trail because it paralleled the canyon Guide Gleace had envisioned would be the route of the army of Idumea. Their route went straight through the forest, up the steep hillside, and followed along the tops of the peaks that curved and split. Taking the right-hand fork of the split led travelers directly to the temple site. Taking the left-hand led them back down into the dead valley.

  The men slowed their horses as they approached the first two marked trees signaling the trailhead, and pulled out their knives.

  Viddrow nodded at his cousin and, leaning from his horse, deepened the slashes on the tree. He and Nool proceeded to ride into the trees, but Deck didn’t continue. He just remained, staring at the forest. A moment later Viddrow and Nool came back out.

  “Papa? Something wrong?” Viddrow asked.

  When Deck didn’t answer, the cousins looked at each other, shrugged, and rode back to Deck.

  He smiled dimly before whispering, “Rector Shin, how look the trees?”

  Nool and Viddrow glanced sadly at each other as they remembered their grandfather’s routine before entering any trail.

  “Very well,” Nool said quietly, saying his father’s part. He didn’t finish with, “General Shin,” but skipped to the next line. “Guide Zenos, shall we continue?”

  Viddrow wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Of course. It’s a beautiful day to do the Creator’s work.”

  Deck nodded once. “Please tell me there’s not much more to this,” his voice cracked, “because I’m already getting hungry. Let’s get moving.”

  “Let’s get moving,” his son and nephew repeated quietly.

  ---

  Private Shin fell onto his new cot in exhaustion and pain. His ears were blazing, this time because the bits of metal and glass recently imbedded into the tops had been removed.

  “Can’t have the sun glinting off your taggings and giving away your position,” was the explanation why several new recruits spent time flinching in the surgery wing under the indelicate hands of the surgeon’s assistants.

  At first, Shin welcomed the idea of resting on the cots after running in the surprisingly hot Harvest sun, but when he realized there was no Fog to cover the pain, he began to envy those dropping outside from dehydration who were now dragged past him to another part of the surgery.

  Shin had asked if they could numb his ears, but the surgeon shook his head. “Don’t need sedation for just that.”

  “Not sedation, sir,” Pere winced as the assistant pulled out another jagged piece of metal, “just the brown stuff.”

  “What brown stuff?” the surgeon demanded.

  “The numbing agent,” he gasped, “what you use before stitching. Numbs the flesh of the area.”

  “I’ve never heard of anything like that! You grassena boys. You see all kinds of things no one else does. Just bite down and tough it out like a real soldier. You’ll be done in half an hour.”

  He made a mental note to be more careful in the future with what he said. He probably would have learned in Woodson’s training that the numbing agent tragically didn’t exist in the world.

  On his way out of the surgery wing, he stopped and looked at himself in the mirror. The last time he saw himself properly was in Salem. He’d been avoiding this, even after his first bath and fitting for his uniform. But having had his taggings removed, he decided it was time to see what the worldly Private Shin looked like.

  He wasn’t prepared for what greeted him. He couldn’t pull his gaze away from his ears. Even though the taggings had been there for less than two weeks, the rough and now bleeding cuts across the top of his ears would leave scars that would not fade quickly, if ever. He could never go back to unscarred ears, but if he had to choose between the taggings and the scars, he preferred the scars.

  He tried next to look into his eyes but couldn’t focus on himself, as if his eyes refused to acknowledge the person in the mirror.

  Instead he searched his face. It was more worn and rough than he remembered, and he seemed to have lost a little weight. Still, it was a good look for a soldier. And he looked less like Perrin Shin th
e elder. He tried to smile at himself, now wearing the basic blue jacket and trousers, but he gave up as soon as he tried. Wondering fleetingly what Puggah would think of him in a uniform, he felt a flicker of hope. At least here he was safe. He was fed, clothed, and away from girls like Lolo and Amory and temptations to get fogged.

  He stepped out of the building into the hot sunshine. The snugness of his uniform gave him a sense of security, and he could understand why Puggah had liked the army. He was now, entirely and wholly, Private Shin. They’d told him to live, think, believe, and act like army, every moment of every day. There was no more Pere, or Perrin, or especially Young Pere. Only the private. The army was now his salvation.

  He walked to his barracks and lay down on his cot for a few minutes as the surgeon had ordered. For some reason his thoughts were filled with his mother. He thought he could see her weeping as she did when he jumped off the school house roof, but he shook the thought away. She had twelve other children to worry about. She didn’t have room or time to worry about him.

  Having the trouble-maker gone was probably the biggest relief she’d had since he was born.

  ---

  Lilla needed to bake. It was the only activity which soothed her, and she needed a lot of soothing with all of the boys and men gone, again.

  They would be back. Shem had gripped her by the arms as she watched miserably out the window as they rode off, and assured her, over and over, all of them would be back. She stared deep into his blue eyes, but saw no deception. There never was any in his eyes.

  “Bread,” she finally said as she heard the last of the men and boys’ horses leaving the Eztates.

  Shem blinked at her.

  “With dried cranberries. And sugar. Maybe a glaze on the top.”

  “Sounds delicious, Lilla,” Shem told her with a hint of a smile.

  “You have three ill assistants, right?”

  He nodded. “Fevers, chills. I think they accidentally infected each other at our last meeting.”

  “They need sweet cranberry bread,” Lilla decided. “To make them feel better. So does Salema and the boys, with Lek away. And maybe another dozen families.”

  “So you’ll be all right?” Shem asked cautiously as Lilla made her way to the pantry and brought out a bag of flour and a crock of dried cranberries. “I don’t need to send over Calla—”

  “I’m baking, aren’t I?!” she shrieked, and slammed down the crock which, shockingly, didn’t shatter. “I’m making something new, right? I’m going to make EVERYONE feel HAPPY with FOOD!”

  Shem took a protective step backward. While he was used to Lilla’s volume, he’d never seen his sister-in-law so on the edge of madness. “Of course you are. And it’ll be wonderful, as usual.”

  “Of course it will,” she agreed dismissively, heading back to the pantry for the bag of sugar. “Everyone loves my cooking. I needed to use up these cranberries anyway. He always hated cranberries.” She wiped her eyes. “I can clean them out before he returns . . .”

  She sat down on the stepladder, disheartened.

  What was he eating? Where was he sleeping? Was he in danger? Was he starving? He was a large boy, and no one could feed him quite as well as his mama. He always came home for dinner. He loved her cooking. He always raided the pantry late at night. How was he surviving—

  Lilla wasn’t at all surprised to feel her oldest sister’s arms around her, hugging her from behind.

  After ten minutes of sobbing, Calla gently said, “Cranberry sweet bread? Leave it up to you to come up with something that sounds so interesting. How can I help? And let’s not use any knives today . . .”

  ---

  With the men on the mountain, and the university on break for early harvest, Lilla under Calla’s control in the kitchen which would be churning out three dozen loaves of cranberry bread, and Jaytsy spending the day helping Salema and the boys, Mahrree decided it was a good day to go back to the temple. Perrin needed to know they were marking the trails—all of them.

  She found his blue chair, still by the window, and the fat pine tree pushed a little out of the way, but that was all right. She didn’t need privacy. She sat down on the chair, closed her eyes—

  But he didn’t come. Not like last time.

  She meditated, she pondered, she asked the Creator to let him know about the trails—

  Still nothing.

  Come on, she thought. Just for five seconds, that’s all she needed. And then she remembered. She didn’t “need” him, but wanted him. Well, that should have been enough, right? She closed her eyes again, squeezing them tight almost childishly, as if she had to go through some little routine to get her way. After a few minutes, she felt her father.

  No, you don’t need him.

  She murmured softly, “But my heart does.”

  Mahrree, Mahrree . . .

  Her father wasn’t alone. Today, Mahrree felt distinctly that her mother was there, too, and she grinned at the sensation. A handful of times she’d felt her mother, and she knew Hycymum was there as support. She and her father were there together, forever. She’d known before in her heart that her parents had accepted the agreement she and Perrin had done for them in the temple, but moments like this reminded her just how wonderfully binding it could be.

  “But if you can both be here, surely he can, too . . .”

  There were more coming, and Mahrree felt that they were just beyond her range of perception, just slightly out of focus for her soul’s eyes to see. But she felt them, and that awareness was more intense than merely seeing. She smiled as she felt Relf and Joriana, together, and if she could only go a bit further, feel a little deeper, she was sure she’d find their son Perrin . . .

  Two more came to her, and she recognized them, too: Tabbit and Hogal Densal, also together. She nearly opened her arms to embrace everyone, but knew she’d get some looks from others in the temple wondering just what poor, lonely Mrs. Shin was up to now. Instead she grinned, and knew the Densals grinned back.

  But you can go no further.

  It was distinctly Hogal Densal, and her mind felt as if it were hitting a block wall. On either side of her now seemed to be Hycymum and Joriana, as if ready to escort her somewhere.

  “No!” Mahrree whispered urgently. “He’s here . . . just a bit further.”

  No, Mahrree.

  That was distinctly Joriana.

  You have to let him go for now. He can’t come back to you. Not yet.

  “Why not?”

  You know why not.

  That was her father, Cephas.

  We all heard what you made him promise.

  Drat, she thought. “To never leave Young Pere’s side.”

  And he won’t.

  There was another one, definitely Relf.

  Young Pere needs him, especially right now, especially where he is. You don’t need him, Mahrree.

  “Is he in the army?” Mahrree breathed.

  No one answered her. No one needed to.

  “Don’t tell Lilla!”

  She had the impression no one was planning to.

  But he knows what’s going on at home, Mahrree.

  Hogal.

  He’s not alone with Young Pere. I’m his companion, seeing as how I had so much experience with rebellious young men named Perrin.

  Mahrree could almost feel his eyebrows waggling, and she nearly giggled.

  He knows about the men marking all the trails, he knows about the new baby’s arrival, he knows . . . everything.

  “And he knows how much I miss him.”

  That goes without saying, Mahrree. Let him do his job, and you do yours.

  “And what’s that?” she whispered despondently. “Saying the wrong words to my grandchildren to chase them away?”

  Mahrree.

  That was her mother, she was sure of it.

  How many times did I say the wrong things to you, yet I didn’t chase you away?

  That time Mahrree did chuckle softly. “Th
ank you,” she whispered to them all. “For coming. For tolerating my loneliness. My childishness.”

  There was loving chuckling in return.

  You still have a great work to do.

  That was Tabbit.

  I tried to tell you the night after Perrin joined us.

  “I know. Calla told me.”

  And, as Perrin said, all of this is only temporary.

  “It feels like a lifetime, already.”

  When you’re on our side, you’ll realize just how brief a lifetime is. Just wait . . .

  “What’s the work I have to do? How will I know it when I’ve done it?”

  Her father answered.

  You’ll know. Everyone will know.

  ---

  Deck’s group was the second to the ancient temple site that afternoon. His son Cambo’s group had, as expected, arrived first, taking the route which started just beyond Deck’s pasture lands.

  Relf and Kew Shin, with Holling Briter, arrived a few minutes after Deck. Kew was thrilled that they hadn’t lost, and that his brother Hogal and cousins Cambo and Bubba had already gathered enough firewood for the night. Now some of them walked around the ancient temple ruins waiting for Peto and Lek’s groups, while others lay down in the grass and enjoyed the warm sunshine.

  Deck walked to the edge of the large tableland and looked down at the lush, green, silent valley in front of him. He sat down and wondered when he would be back again, and why they wouldn’t be coming for “a time,” as Guide Zenos put it.

  While the air was usually dry in Salem, here it always felt heavier and humid; today, it was saturated. Deck found it difficult to fully fill his lungs and it made him nervous. He didn’t like sitting around, staring into that peaceful valley which waited for bloodshed. Even though Shem had promised no one would be injured, Deck felt the need to go find the other seven men.

  A voice in the distance caught his attention. “And the next winner is, although we don’t have winners, Lek Zenos and company!”

  Deck turned around to see Lek, Wes Hifadhi, and Barnos Shin arrive through a break in the trees, smiling and waving.

  Deck jogged over to them. “Any news of Peto? Sometimes you can see the Back Door from the Upper Middle Route.”

  Barnos nodded. “We spied Papa not too long ago. They should be here soon.”

  Deck breathed a little easier. “Good, good. I’ll just . . .” He didn’t finish but headed over to a forested area where the Back Door route would finish. He walked through the trees up the incline about twenty paces where the upper ridge of the bowl of the mountains dipped a little. He reached the top of the ridge and looked down the other side.

  The last two hundred or so paces up that section were grueling. It was a climb up a steep rock face. Sure-footed children and healthy adults could handle it, but the elderly, expecting women, and little children would struggle. Deck sighed in relief when he saw four horses on long tethers for the night at the bottom of the slope a few hundred paces below, and four men climbing their way up the face.

  “Everyone doing well?” Deck called down.

  Peto looked up. “Yes. Everyone else get in all right?” He placed his hand carefully on another jagged rock and pulled himself up.

  Deck nodded. “You’re the last ones in.”

  “All the firewood collected?” called Zaddick Zenos from the bottom of the rock face.

  “Sure is.”

  “Then we win!”

  Deck smiled and sat down on top of the ridge to watch their progress.

  “Come on down, Papa,” Cephas called up. “You can jump from there, roll down that steep grassy area, and join us in climbing back up.”

  “As tempting as that sounds, son,” Deck said, making sure his sarcasm was obvious, “I don’t think Boskos needs to practice stitching my flesh or binding my bones today.”

  Zaddick chuckled. “No, he’s already had a bit of doctoring practice.”

  “Zad!” Boskos said with some irritation, crawling upward a few paces ahead of his younger brother.

  Peto reached the top of the ridge and took his brother-in-law’s outstretched hand. He held on to it for a moment.

  “Thanks for not jumping. Cephas and Zaddick plan to go down that way tomorrow to see if they can. It was Young Pere’s theory that he didn’t get to test six years ago. Broken arm. I guess Boskos better be ready. To be honest, Deck, I’ve been feeling uneasy all day,” he said quietly. “When everyone is at the site I might be able to rest my mind.”

  “Why do you think I’m up here watching for you?” Deck slapped Peto on the back. “I haven’t been able to keep a clear head either.”

  “I think Boskos had the same problem,” Peto said, watching as Cephas reached the top. “He took a bit of a spill earlier.”

  “Is he all right?”

  “Yes, as long as you don’t talk to him about it.”

  Boskos reached the top a moment later, with fresh cuts and scrapes on his face and arms that Deck ignored, with Zaddick close behind.

  The five men jogged through the forest and came out at the ancient temple ruin to be greeted by cheers of welcome. Half an hour later the men and boys sat around the fire eating their dinner and talking about the condition of the routes.

  Lek kept eyeing Boskos as they ate, and finally asked, “So, Bos—the scratches?”

  Zaddick grinned at Cephas and elbowed him, but Cephas shook his head in warning.

  Everyone watched for Boskos’ response. He groaned before he answered. “I slipped.”

  Lek tried not to smirk. “Slipped on what, Bos?”

  “Unsure,” he said, taking a bite of his dinner.

  “Oh, I saw what it was,” Zaddick offered, too eagerly.

  “What was it, Zad?” Lek asked his youngest brother.

  “A flower,” Zaddick snorted.

  Cephas tried to keep his face straight for Boskos’ benefit, but nearly everyone else burst into laughter.

  Even Peto smiled.

  Nool noticed and nodded to Relf to look at their father. Relf elbowed Barnos and the two of them smiled at their father’s briefly lighter mood.

  “A flower?” Deck asked carefully.

  Boskos sighed. “Not an average flower. Barely fit the definition. Some big, smelly, slimy thing on the rock up the trail. After we tethered the horses.”

  “He stepped on it,” Zaddick announced, “and the next thing we know, he’s rolling down the hill back to the horses!”

  Lek tried to stifle his snort as his brother and cousins laughed. “I’m sorry, Bos, but . . . a flower? That is funny. Anything permanently injured?”

  Boskos finally looked up from his dinner with a reluctant smile. “Only my dignity. Papa’s still a true guide.”

  The men chuckled and Peto’s smile remained. After a moment he quietly said, “Father hated that route.”

  Everyone stopped laughing to listen.

  “Boskos knows why now. That last climb? Try taking that in the Snowing Season.”

  Relf’s eyebrows rose. “Papa, you did it in the snow?”

  “I was so eager to see if it could be another route,” Peto explained, “when we first started scouting for paths, that I didn’t want to wait for the snow to melt. Besides, I reasoned we should try the routes in all kinds of weather. I was around eighteen and a bit heartsick over a girl with a loud laugh who didn’t notice me at a wedding some time before. I needed a distraction.”

  “Was she at our papa’s wedding? Maybe our mama’s youngest sister?” Lek asked with a knowing smile.

  Peto nodded. “My father was so eager for me to find a way to feel needed in Salem our first year here that he agreed to do just about anything, even explore the Back Door. I didn’t realize it at the time, but he was worried about avalanches. Apparently Shem had told him a few stories, and when he saw large swaths of forests that were wiped out by snow slides, he was even less thrilled about going. But he did. He knew it was important to me, so he went.” Peto stopped for
a moment and stared at the fire.

  Deck broke the silence. “Tell them what happened, Peto.”

  Peto’s dim smiled returned. “We left the horses down by the river, as we did today. Then we climbed all the way to the top to see where it came out. That’s when Father tried to sit down to rest, and slipped instead.” Peto looked up at Boskos. “But he tumbled more than a couple paces, Bos. He slid, and boy, did he slide on that snow!” Peto began to grin, for the first time in weeks. “All the way down the entire slope!”

  The men began to smile and the teenage boys laughed.

  “And did he stop when he reached the horses?” Peto continued. “Nope. He kept on sliding, right past them. They even turned and watched him zip on by!”

  Now everyone was laughing.

  Peto almost did. “The only thing that stopped him was the river. One big crash! I could hear the ice breaking from where I was at the summit.”

  “He must have been freezing!” Hogal said in awe.

  “Just about,” Peto told his twelve-year-old son. “But he was also furious, and that kept him warm. I came down to help him, but I don’t think I ever quit laughing, and he could hear me. That canyon echoes, if you haven’t noticed. You see, it wasn’t a gentle slide. No, not General Shin. He fought it all the way down, flailing and kicking and tumbling. He even took out some innocent little evergreens. I was sure I heard a few army words echo through the canyon. I don’t think these mountains ever heard such language before!”

  Even Deck was laughing.

  Peto finally chuckled.

  “I remember when they came home,” Deck said. “They were a day early and Perrin was still chilled to the bone, including his hair. Mahrree had wanted him to cut some of those longer locks, but he had refused. Since he and Shem had left the army, they hadn’t cut their hair at all. They were both looking rather scruffy by then. He had to let Mahrree cut it when he came home, though, because when Peto fished him out of the river, some of Perrin’s hair was already freezing and Peto broke off a lock just to see if he could.”

  Peto finally laughed, along with everyone else.

  His sons watched him in delight, reveling in the sound.

  “He was all lopsided in the back,” Peto chuckled. “My mother thanked me later for making him have to get a trim.” Peto watched the fire and laughed again at the memory. “This was his idea, you know,” he said softly, “Finding the emergency storage cavern today.”

  Everyone fell silent as they watched Peto.

  “I was going through his desk a few weeks ago and found his last notes. One thing he wrote was for us to find an emergency storage spot on the Back Door route. Knowing him, Boskos, he had that ugly flower grow there just to get you to slip, just to get me to remember our first trip.” His chin began to tremble but he looked up at his nephew. “Thanks for tumbling.”

  Boskos nodded back. “Anytime. It looked like the kind of flower Uncle Perrin would design. Not really his talent.”

  “Uncle Peto,” Cephas said, “I’ve never seen anything like it in these mountains or in the books. Maybe we could name it the One-of-a-Kind Ugly?”

  “Agreed,” Peto grinned.

  Boskos looked up to the stars beginning to appear. “But Uncle Perrin,” he called, “couldn’t you have put that hideous thing a little lower on the trail?”

  Everyone burst out laughing again, and Peto nodded and wiped at his eyes.

  As they set up their bedrolls around the fire, Deck felt a bit more at ease. At their family prayer before bed, his son Bubba prayed that they would all reach home safely again, especially the one who was farthest from home.

  No one had said his name that day besides Peto, but it was clear Young Pere was on everyone’s minds. Even after they began to lie down for the night, Peto continued to sit by the fire, poking it with a long stick.

  Deck sat next to him. “I have to confess, I couldn’t enter the forest until we did the little routine.”

  Peto glanced at him and smiled. “You too? Your Cephas started it for us.”

  “Cambo told me he and Bubba and Hogal made it to the second set of trees before they realized something felt wrong,” Deck said. “They rode back out to the forest and asked Rector Shin how the trees looked before they continued on.”

  Peto poked the fire again. “Lek, Barnos, and Wes had a little argument as to who’d start it. They voted that Lek should begin since he was the oldest. And Relf told me that he and Kew and your Holling had already planned to do it before they ever arrived at the Norden route. Maybe that’s why they made such good time.”

  Deck sighed. “I always thought it was a silly tradition, but today it meant so much to me. Somehow it invoked his permission.”

  Peto nodded, not caring about the tear that slid down his cheek.

  “Have you felt him recently?” Deck whispered.

  Peto shook his head. “No. He left when Young Pere did.”

  “That’s what Jaytsy and I thought. That’s all right. That’s who needs him most now. We all have each other, but . . .”

  “That’s the only thing that keeps me going, Deck,” Peto confessed. “What I keep telling Lilla. We know he’s watching him. That’s why he had to die, Deck. I’m sure of it. The Creator already planned out Young Pere’s protection before he even made his escape.”

  Deck put an arm around his brother-in-law. “Then He has a plan for him to come home as well.”

  Peto’s shoulders sagged. “If only he will. He’s already rejected so many other plans, he can still reject this one.”

  Deck didn’t know what to say to that. He just awkwardly hugged his brother-in-law and stared into the fire with him.

  ---

  When Mahrree arrived home that evening, she was greeted by three cheerful girls: Ester Zenos, Sewzi Briter, and Kanthi Shin. The fifteen-and-sixteen-year-olds were holding pages, expectantly.

  “There you are, Aunt Mahrree!” Ester said. “We’ve been waiting for you. We finished our Punny Poetry entry for the rectory recital at the end of the week, but we need some critiquing.”

  “Yes,” Sewzi said, sounding slightly disappointed, “our mothers all say ‘It’s wonderful, girls!’”

  “But we know that our Muggah,” Kanthi nodded to her, “would actually give us some real advice.”

  Mahrree smiled. “Well, then, let’s see what you’ve created,” and she led them back to her wing of the house. After she made herself comfortable on the sofa, the three girls launched into their creation.

  It was a charming tale of three bickering crows, although what constitutes bickering in Salem is merely a difference of opinions in the world, and Mahrree could think of a dozen ways to really heat up their argument. Then there was the rhyme which really wasn’t a rhyme, and the cadence was off in one section, and it would have been better if they had memorized it, but Kanthi—the budding writer—could never remember exactly how words were phrased because she kept rewriting as she went, and that joke fell a bit flat, but if they—

  She stopped with her mental list because suddenly all she could see before her was the memory of Young Pere, scowling after he’d experienced Mahrree Shin, Critic at Large.

  And how it had chased him away.

  Oh, sure, her mother reminded Mahrree that nothing Hycymum had ever said chased Mahrree away, but Hycymum had been a sweet, silly, shallow woman, incapable of chasing away even a squirrel with a broom. She’d had nothing of Mahrree’s caustic nature which, even after twenty-five years in Salem, she still struggled to keep from bubbling over.

  Her heart sank to her knees as she watched the three darling girls who she loved so much do their best, their eyes darting over to her as they read their lines, anxious for her approval, and likely fearing her criticism.

  They had done their best. Who was Mahrree to point out anything more? What if one of these dear girls was silently at the edge of some breaking point, like Young Pere, and the very next words that would come out of Mahrree’s mouth might be the ones that
shoved her over?

  No, she couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t be responsible for sending another grandchild away to prove some point to Muggah.

  The girls were finished, clutching their pages earnestly and waiting for her judgement.

  Mahrree beamed as brightly as she could. “That was wonderful, girls. Very charming! I agree with your mothers.”

  Ester grinned, as if having passed some test, and Sewzi nodded in relief. But Kanthi tipped her head.

  “Muggah, didn’t that line where the crows were analyzing the carcass feel a little off? Like the rhyming scheme lacked something?”

  Mahrree pretended to ponder that. “Well, perhaps it did, now that I think back on it. But your delivery was so delightful I didn’t even notice. You have a few days to work on that line, if you really feel you must.”

  “Yes, we should probably look at it,” Ester said, making a note next to it. “Well, if that’s it then?”

  “That’s it,” Mahrree said firmly.

  “I think we should memorize it,” Sewzi said, casting an apologetic glance to Kanthi. “That way we won’t be holding the pages.”

  Kanthi bobbed her head. “I’ll try, I’ll try.”

  Mahrree smiled sadly to herself. See? They didn’t even need her anymore. They spotted the main problems themselves, and she didn’t have to make any of them feel the worse for it.

  “You’re coming, right?” Sewzi asked Mahrree. “To the performance?”

  Mahrree produced The Dinner smile. “Of course! Wouldn’t want to miss it.”

  ---

  Private Shin lay in his cot, tired but not as exhausted as the other new recruits. There was something to say for having been raised on an orchard and cattle ranch. He knew how to work and it showed. He completed every physical requirement in near record time while the other flabbier, weaker young men stumbled and flailed.

  Just minutes ago the men had grumbled at the news that they would be rising at dawn to continue their training, but Private Shin merely smiled. That meant he got to sleep in an extra hour than he would have if he still lived over the mountain.

  ---

  A few days later, Mahrree didn’t go to the girls’ performance of the squabbling crows. She claimed to be suffering from a headache: a worldly lie, but a convenient one. She also didn’t attend the concert that several of the children were in the next day, claiming she was tired, and when Viddrow brought her a paper to review for his class, she suggested that his mother Jaytsy critique it instead.

  Soon she realized that she had to vary her excuses, because after her third “headache,” Lilla insisted that Boskos examine her for something more serious. So over the next couple of weeks, Mahrree developed minor joint pains, or needed to work on something for her classes, then discovered that being a baby tender was the best thing she could do with her evenings, letting her adult grandchildren have a night out. It wasn’t as if anything she said to toddlers would push any of them into the world.

  And if anyone came to her door, she turned them away—with a reassuring smile and saying only that she was busy at the moment, but maybe later—because she was determined to never, ever say the wrong thing to any of them again.

  Chapter 26 --“So General Thorne is the most reasonable person in the world?”