Flight of the Wounded Falcon
Page 32
Corporal Sword Master Thorne Shin mentally reviewed his jacket and checked his sword one more time before he marched out onto the parade field with the rest of his newly-assigned Company of Twenty. He had been looking forward to the Celebration Day, despite the heat of the 52nd Day of Weeding Season.
For more than three seasons he’d heard all about the spectacle of the uniforms, horses, trumpets, and drum corps. So far, he’d not been disappointed. The speech from the overly stuffed colonel had tested each soldier’s ability to sleep while standing up, but Shin thoroughly enjoyed the reenactment of Thorne’s defeat of the rebels.
Once the performance got past the excessively melodramatic part of Mrs. Shin, played ludicrously by the enormous wife of a visiting major, defiantly mocking Thorne while threatening to stab a young soldier, it was solid entertainment.
His grandmother’s exaggeratedly long death by arrows while falling in stages into the crevice was a noteworthy performance.
Former General Shin crying out a long “Nooooo!” while falling in an equally deliberate manner after his wife was also most effective.
Mrs. Briter’s death was a bit pathetic, though; the woman of the captain playing her didn’t even look like she was expecting. And the overly brawny soldier portraying Thorne flailing valiantly but unsuccessfully to save her from the Guarders was almost amusing. But the deaths of Mr. Briter and young Mr. Shin, as they were carried off screaming by Guarders, elicited cheers from the spectators, although Shin wasn’t sure why.
The greatest whoops of appreciation, however, came with the execution of Zenos. Using a dried-up pumpkin from last year as his head, then rolling it out to the soldiers as Zenos was ‘executed’ was, the corporal thought, drama at its best.
Shin wondered if anyone else in the crowd, or any of the stuffed uniforms sitting up on the small hill, knew how inaccurate the portrayal of Shem’s premature death was. Or if anyone else even suspected that his aunt’s ritualistic death by the Guarders in front of a devastated and wounded Thorne was pure dung.
Still, the performance had a powerful effect on the men, something that Shin wholly appreciated. Some even had tears streaming down their faces when the soldier portraying the young Captain Thorne recited his moving soliloquy about the need to sacrifice even one’s fighting arm for order and justice and peace in their land, and to destroy the evil influences that undermine unity.
Corporal Shin couldn’t help but be impressed. It was rubbish, yes, but it was good rubbish. The kind of carefully selected, hand washed, and expertly fermented rubbish that kept the men motivated and attached to their commander.
And that was the key, Corporal Shin well knew: the power of story. Not it’s veracity, but its effect. The soldiers loved their general, primarily because of the stories which were mostly true. True enough. How could Corporal Shin not respect that?
As he watched the troops take their turns before the reviewing stands, he kept his eye on Thorne. Finally—finally—he’d see him face-to-face. Thorne sat astride his bay horse, a picture of strength. For once, Shin could take him in fully. His sandy hair he already knew—longer than regulation, but Thorne was any regulation that he chose. His straight nose came to a point and his eyes penetrated the soldiers, reminding Shin of a hawk looking for a meal. The slight scarring on his face from having the pox as a young man only added to his rugged demeanor. His right arm, always gloved, hung limply by his side, while his left hand rested on the hilt of his sword. His jacket had so many medals that it visibly sagged. The only description that came to Shin’s mind was, Majestic.
Occasionally Shin wondered what his grandfather may have looked like on top of his horse, with sword in hand, reviewing the army. There were times he wondered if the old colonel couldn’t have done things differently. If he had reined in his wife, who ironically had told Young Pere he needed to rein himself in, they wouldn’t have had to leave the world.
Maybe the man on the horse reviewing the parade could have been a real General Shin, not some pretend general of essentially nothing in Salem. And Corporal Shin may have been something more than a mere corporal. Maybe he even could have been a lieutenant by now. A real officer.
Over the past nine moons, Corporal Shin had grown to love army life. The discipline, the purpose, the violence, and even the food at times. He still smiled to himself about the “freedom” part, which, at his first recruiting meal, was the last time he heard that word in conjunction with serving in the army. But that didn’t bother him.
Now he straightened his back and, at the command, marched onto the field with ninety-nine fellow soldiers in view of General Lemuel Thorne. He did his best to make eye contact with him, wanting to see for himself what kind of a man his grandfather could have been had he not been so weak. Even with one arm, Thorne seemed to have more power than the colonel.
Shin thought for a moment that the general caught his eye, but he could only hope. He didn’t plan on staying a corporal forever. Some day he planned to be standing on top of that hill himself, and already decided that he’d be the youngest sergeant major ever. He’d looked it up once, when he had a private moment in the command tower, the age of the youngest sergeant major to date: Shem Zenos. But the name had a star by it, signaling that the man was not to be counted as anything in the army.
Shin glanced at the honored guests standing with and behind the general. Several were in uniforms, and a few were men in formal jackets with only faint smudges of face paint.
But one was a woman, largely decorated but not absurdly. Shin strained to focus on her as his group moved passed, because something was familiar about her. Her long blond hair was capped by a ridiculously large hat, and her white, ruffle-laden dress blew in the breeze and fluffed onto the officer next to her. He did his best to ignore it as they watched the parade, both seeming a bit bored.
Until she locked eyes with Shin. She leaned forward slightly and then he knew: Amory. Soon she was out of view and Shin tried to recall what the rank of the uniform was next to her. She had told him that she’d always been interested in army officers, and, apparently, she got what she came to the world for.
His unit reformed in the field to allow for the next troops to pass, and a messenger rushed up to Sergeant Onus with a note.
Onus looked up from it. “Shin!”
Shin felt a rush of anticipation and strode to the sergeant.
“Your presence has been requested at the reviewing hill immediately after the parade. You may wait here while the rest of us march back to the barracks.” Onus raised an eyebrow—if in warning or in congratulations, Shin wasn’t sure.
He stood at attention all by himself at the edge of the grounds, wondering and worrying about the message for the next half hour.
Finally the parade finished and he dutifully marched up the hill to the reviewing stands. The sight of so many officers was nerve-wracking from a distance, and up close many regarded him severely, wondering why an enlisted man was invading their borders.
But he knew how to withstand a glare. He stopped, stood at attention several paces away from the nearest uniforms, and waited.
He saw the big floppy hat make its way through the press, and yes, it was Amory. She must have sent the message and Shin’s heart both sank and jumped at that.
She hurried over to him, a small smile on her face, and stopped a few feet away.
He maintained his stance and focused just past her, noticing that the general was watching from a distance.
Amory let out a sigh. “Perrin Shin, come back from the dead!” she whispered. “Creet, you must look just like him now. So smart in that uniform. I wasn’t sure at first, but . . . Oh, it’s so good to see you, Pere! At ease—it’s only me.”
The corporal relaxed his stance only slightly and allowed himself to look at her. He wasn’t prepared for the changes he saw. She appeared much older and her face was tense, even under the light brown face paint she wore. Her smile wasn’t genuine, but she wanted it to be. Her eyes, rimmed by vibrant
blue pigment, alternated between vacant and shielded. She was still beautiful, but with a dry, toughened look that reminded Shin of bread having been in the oven too long. She wasn’t the same woman he snuck into Edge with, that was clear. He wondered if he had changed as much as well.
“It’s good to see you too, Miss . . . ma’am,” and he realized he didn’t know what to call her.
“Amory,” she supplied. “Just Amory.”
The corporal nodded. “I didn’t know if you had chosen a new name or not.”
She shrugged. “I did, but it didn’t stick.”
Shin was aware that the general had turned and was facing their direction, his left hand resting on his sword, but Shin was too far away to see the look in his eyes.
“So are you happy in your new life, Amory?” he asked officially.
Amory nodded slowly. “Yes, I suppose you could say I am. I have to admit, I have a great view of the parades.”
He struggled to know exactly how to phrase the next question. “I take it then that you have a . . . companion here?”
Amory smiled broadly. “Indeed I do! I accompany Thorne everywhere.”
The news hit him like a plank upside the head. Thorne’s latest woman, who the soldiers sniggered and speculated about, was Amory?! She reached Thorne quicker than he had? He didn’t even realize he’d been her target. Maybe he wasn’t, but she just somehow got lucky.
Slag.
“Then you and the general are . . .” He regretted the beginning of that sentence because he didn’t know how to finish it.
“I am his consort, yes.” She tried to say it proudly, but something uncomfortable flickered in her eyes.
The corporal wasn’t sure what a consort was, so he nodded a quick approval. “Does the general know what you are?” When Amory squinted harshly at him, he added, “I mean, that you’re from the valley?”
Her face instantly relaxed. “No, of course not. I told him I came from Coast. He thinks I used to sell dresses.”
She took a step closer to him, and Shin remembered their few minutes in the shed on their first day in Province 8. The raw, gaping hole in his chest he’d ignored for so long gnawed at him again. He’d tried many times to block out those first few days in the world, choosing not to remember any of those mistakes and deciding his life didn’t begin until he enlisted.
Usually he was successful, until he had moments like this that reminded him nothing was really completely forgotten.
“Are you happy, Pere?” she asked intently. It felt odd to hear that name again.
“I am, thank you for asking,” he said formally and resumed his in-the-distance gaze.
“Because I’ve been worrying about you,” Amory continued and took yet another step closer. “I’ve regretted leaving you that first night. I’ve worried about where you slept and what you ate. I shouldn’t have left you. I’m sorry about that.”
“I was not inconvenienced, ma’am. I am perfectly well.”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw General Thorne making his way through the uniforms toward Amory and him. His walk was hurried but he kept being stopped by men who wanted to shake his left hand.
As much as the corporal wanted to meet the general, he didn’t want to meet him like this, talking to Amory, his consort! The spot on the right side of his mind told him he needed to leave, NOW.
He cleared his throat and asked curtly, “Is there anything else you need from me, ma’am? My sergeant will be expecting me.”
Amory’s shoulders drooped. “No, no Pere. I just wanted to see that you’re all right. I suppose you are. Listen, if you ever need anything, please let me know. I’ve got connections—”
Shin grew more nervous as the general made his way closer, moving past one overstuffed man only to run into another. Thorne’s hawkish eye was keenly on the corporal, and, feeling like a mouse, Shin knew that if he were to escape, he needed to move now.
“—and it’s just nice to see someone from the valley again.”
“Yes, ma’am. I will remember that, ma’am. Good day to you.”
The general was quickly gaining ground and was only a dozen paces away now.
Corporal Shin saluted promptly, and Thorne absent-mindedly saluted back. The look of frustration on his face made it clear he hadn’t meant to release him so quickly.
Shin tipped his cap at Amory and turned sharply on his heel. He practiced his best quick march down the hill toward his barracks hoping he wouldn’t hear anyone calling him back.
He didn’t.
---
On top of the hill next to Amory, General Thorne watched the young soldier stride away, his long legs ensuring that he was gone in record time. Two thoughts were battling in Lemuel’s mind.
One nagged at him that he should pursue the corporal, spin him around, and look him straight in the eye.
The other, coming from a spot to the right and behind, told him it was just a boy, and that he’d draw even more attention to himself and Amory by pursuing him. Right now, he needed to maintain his dignity on the hill. It was his 26th celebration, after all.
“Do you need something, Lemuel?” Amory’s words interrupted the sparring in his mind.
Thorne tore his eyes away from the retreating figure of the corporal and turned to Amory, who regarded him with deliberate sweetness.
“Who was that? Why are you talking to a mere enlisted man?”
Amory shifted her stance. “I’m not sure what name he’s picked for himself. He’s just someone I knew the first night I came to Province 8. I was to trying to help him find a place to sleep then, since he was new as well. I just wondered how he’d fared since then.”
Thorne stared at her. “No doubt one of many young men you helped make a bed for.”
Amory looked as if he had slapped her in the face.
He took a step toward her and hovered dangerously near. “Do not ever use my messenger again,” he hissed, “and never be caught speaking to anyone lower in rank than a colonel unless I accompany you. Not in private, and certainly not in public and on the parade grounds! Creet, woman, I have a reputation to maintain. It will not do for the general’s woman to be seen cavorting with enlisted men! Understood?”
Amory steeled herself. “I understand, General Thorne. It won’t happen again.” But she quickly withered.
“It’d better not, or you will need to worry about finding yourself a bed,” he snarled.
Amory shrunk a little more.
“Now get back in the mansion. You’ve been seen enough today. Lieutenant!” he called.
A young officer appeared at his side.
“See that Miss Amory returns immediately to the mansion. There’s concern for her safety. Take three men with you. No one is to speak to her or stop your progress. Is that understood?”
“Yes sir,” the lieutenant said. “Ma’am?” He held out his arm.
Amory took his arm obediently, if not reluctantly, and he whisked her down the hill.
Thorne waved over Captain Lick who trotted to his side. “I want you to find out who that corporal was, who Amory was talking to.”
Captain Lick strained to see where the young soldier disappeared to, but in the swirl of hundreds of milling men in blue, it was impossible. “What do you suspect, sir? Do you think he might be one of them?”
Thorne struggled to not roll his eyes. Lick had a tendency to get fixated on the wrong obsessions. “Sure,” he said shortly. “Go speak to the messenger she used. He should be able to supply you with the contact. As soon as you have something for me, let me know.”
The captain saluted and rushed off to find the messenger.
---
Corporal Shin reached his sergeant just as the men were returning to their barracks to change out of their dress uniforms.
“Everything all right, Shin?” Onus stopped him at the door of the barracks. “Thorne finally have a few words with his numbers man?”
“No, sir, it was someone else. Someo
ne on the hill who knew me when I was younger,” he said, hoping the questioning would end so he could go to his bunk.
Onus slowly nodded his head. “Rather beautiful, wasn’t she?”
Shin swallowed. “She was.”
“Thorne doesn’t appreciate anyone looking at his women,” the sergeant warned. “He’ll probably be done with her in a year and look for another ‘companion.’ Just don’t get in the way in the meantime, if you know what I mean.”
“I have no intentions to do anything with her, sir,” Shin said, desperately wishing to be released from the very uncomfortable conversation.
“Of course you don’t. Just be careful, Shin.” Onus dismissed him with a salute and stepped to the side to allow him in. When he walked in to the long, low building, several of the men whistled.
“Corporal’s got someone watching him, men! Stand back—she looked like a real experationist, and Shin’s turning red.”
Shin growled in disgust as he went to his bunk. “I thought all of you were supposed to be back here, not spying on me.”
Several of the men laughed. “We were marching in the field just beyond the hill,” his bunkmate said. “Kind of obvious who came to see you, Shin.”
“You know what Thorne did with the last man who flirted with one of his women?” asked another man with a snigger.
“Don’t know, and don’t care,” Shin answered as he took off his dress jacket and picked up his regular one. “Because I wasn’t flirting, and I’m not interested in her.”
“Ah, don’t worry, Shin,” called out another man. “If she can’t produce a son for him, he’ll send her on her way and find another woman who might. Then she’ll be all yours again.”
Shin sighed heavily and tried not to listen to them.
“How many daughters does he have now anyway?” asked another soldier.
“Last I heard it was eight or nine,” someone answered.
“It can’t be that many,” another said. “It’s not allowed.”
“Not allowed for his wife to have that many,” another soldier said. “Besides, with no more marriage laws, it doesn’t matter anymore. No one’s sure what happened to his wife. She’s probably south of Idumea now with her girls.”
“Anyone got a count on how many women he’s had? I can definitely see the advantages to being the general.”
The soldiers laughed and speculated on additional rewards to being the general, while Shin buttoned up his jacket. His stomach felt slightly sick and he had no other desire than to leave the barracks. He wondered if the general knew how disrespectfully his men talked about him, and it made Shin want to tell them all off. But, he reminded himself again, for only a few more days did he have to tolerate these small-minded, shallow thinking oafs.
He put his sword and sheath back on.
“Shin, where’re you going? We have time off until the banquet tonight.”
“I know,” he said. “Just . . . need to take care of some things.”
Several of the men oohed in his direction. “She’s not worth it, Shin. Find someone younger.”
“Careful, Corporal. Don’t bother dueling the general for her. What kind of prize is a used-up sow?”
Shin ignored their snickers as he marched out of the barracks. He headed out the northeast gates and straight for the forest where he could think, could listen to the ‘haunted breathings’ in the woods, and watch the bubbling mud from the safety of the edge.
No one thought too much of his walking along the forest’s edge. There were always soldiers patrolling it, keeping the village idiots from running into it and out again on a dare. Sometimes he encountered teachers and scientists interested in observing the changes just beyond the tree line. They always seemed grateful to see a soldier pacing along the border, as if he could keep out the unquiet spirits of the dead that still sought revenge, especially since their observations suggested the forest had become even more angry and noisy in the past year.
But he wasn’t there to see if the mud volcano was shooting further again, but to walk out his thoughts. Seeing her again had awakened all kinds of feelings, none of them pleasant. Sometimes he could go for a week without thinking about his first days in Province 8, without remembering Salem or anyone else.
Then there were days like this where the pain, frustration, and anger of what he thought about Amory, then what he did with Lolo and that other girl, and probably another one, he wasn’t sure—well, the memory of what happened consumed him with guilt and remorse. Just when he thought he was past it, the past came back to chew at him again like a starving rat.
Deciding to never again be involved with women didn’t eliminate the feelings, it just made them all the more acute when they arose yet again. He didn’t need these thoughts clouding his judgment. There was too much coming that he needed to concentrate on.
Focus on the future, that’s what he needed to do. It was coming up, within days was his guess. No one in the fort knew it, but Shin had figured it out. Each week the supply calculations were sent to him, via Sergeant Onus’s office, and each week he went through the lists for Thorne’s forts to make sure all was correct.
For the past few weeks there’d been a buildup of supplies at Province 2, at the southern edge of Thorne’s land. Thorne even had to acquire new suppliers to fill his requests. The mass of goods quietly being stored in enormous barns was far more than the five thousand men already stationed there required. In fact, there was enough in reserve to keep nearly twenty thousand men supplied for half a season, with additional shipments still going in.
Shin could see what must be coming: the offensive on Idumea. It made perfect sense. The forts in the south knew of Thorne’s celebration week, and that nothing occurred for days before, and that the soldiers were often listless and lazy for days after. Several times the south had tried to attack the north during Celebration week, but were repulsed by the battle-hardened soldiers of Province 2. And making a successful incursion all the way to Province 8 in the far north was impossible, especially with six thousand additional soldiers camping around the fort for the celebration.
But the south would not anticipate an attack right after Celebration week, or especially during it. And that’s when Shin thought Thorne would make his move—in the next few days. All of the forts had been compliant to Thorne’s rule for the past few weeks, so they were ready. Instead of sending the visiting soldiers home, Thorne could just as easily lead them south on an invasion.
And Shin planned to be with them. No more of this waiting around until his first year was completed. He was only weeks away from being qualified for action, and he wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass him by. Sergeant Onus had said he was the greatest with a sword he’d ever seen, and Shin was tired of using that sword only to threaten stubborn mules in the roadways. Nothing in Province 8 was worthy of his abilities.
There were plenty of men happy to guard around the arena and watch the daily fights between men and animals, keeping the citizens—including children who were obviously skipping school—from jumping into the fray. He got a little more challenge at night, when the fights at the arena were far more intense. Soldiers were then stationed throughout the arena to restrain audience members who were overly excited from watching former soldiers looking for more glory days, or criminals hoping to be freed, dying to prove their toughness; sometimes quite literally. The crowds, angered that ‘their’ animal or man lost, causing them to lose slips of gold and silver in their bets, almost became raucous enough to be worthy of Shin’s skills.
The goings on at the amphitheater, however, were generally milder and didn’t need more than a dozen soldiers to help move the crowds or keep them from pawing their favorite actors. And although Shin found the entertainments predictable and even monotonous, he was grateful for his time standing around doing nothing. He learned a great deal about the world by discovering what it considered entertaining.
This was the world: it was obsessed with violence, mating, and p
ower. So, invariably, each play included characters losing their lives, clothing, or status. The most popular ones incorporated all three.
He couldn’t decide at first which was more uncomfortable to watch—the dramas of the amphitheater or the bloodshed of the arena. The first few times Shin witnessed the fights and plays he was shocked, then intrigued, but then grew bored. It was the same thing, every day, just like the drumming and dancing at the grassy arena. The same monotonous beat, again and again. And nothing different ever came to the province, or any province for that matter.
He knew years ago there used to be more variety—musicians, singing, debates, acrobats, and animals trained to do tricks. There was a lot of that over on the other side of the mountain, along with storytelling, and plays whose sole intent was to make people laugh—
But no one here was interested in anything else besides blood and violence and mating and power. Adults and children flocked to the entertainments often provided free of charge by General Thorne. A gesture, Shin realized, which caused the villagers to adore their general.
Occasionally he even came to the arena to watch the battles. On those evenings, the announcer turned his main duties of introducing the fighters over to the general. Thorne always received the standing applause of his citizens.
And Shin noticed something else—the amount of free entertainment increased just before another increase in taxes, or the army took another portion of crops and livestock. And because they were entertained, the citizens didn’t seem to notice—or maybe they didn’t care. He’d discovered over the past year that villagers demanded only a few things: food, security, and entertainment. As long as they had plenty of the last, they could pretty much dismiss the scarcity of the previous two.
It was often as Shin watched the villagers and on-duty soldiers cheering and shouting at the fights that he felt a nagging that he was wasting his time. It often seemed so fruitless standing there, waiting for an animal or person to give up, pass out, or die so he could make sure everyone left in an orderly fashion.
At times he thought, Surely there’s something better you could be doing. Something he could be learning, or building, or making, or fixing, or curing.
It was also at those times he cursed the manipulation that his mind underwent for the first eighteen years of his life. It was because of them that he couldn’t enjoy what was before him. It was their fault he still felt a need to accomplish something necessary and useful each day. No one else in the world seemed to be burdened by high aspirations. How much happier could he be if he were just as ambivalent as everyone else!
To keep his mind free from such frustrating thoughts while he waited—sometimes for hours—at the arena, Shin usually took his post on the outside, or offered to trade duties with another corporal over Twenty stuck with defending the trash heaps from beggars making a mess in the alleys looking for a meal.
He hadn’t understood that when he first arrived in the world and, half-starved, kneeled before a pile behind an inn. He’d thought the soldiers who chased him away were heartless.
But now he understood: a community can’t function in filth and chaos. Order must be maintained, roads and alleys cleared, and those who won’t earn their own wages like everyone else in the Province needed to go somewhere else. Shin didn’t care where they went, just as long as it wasn’t on his assigned roads for the evening.
He had little sympathy for such people who failed to see the importance of order. Sure, he was without food once, but that was only because he’d been robbed and had no connections. But he’d fixed that in just a few days. There was no good reason why these people couldn’t pick themselves up and take care of themselves as well as Shin did.
Often he chased away children scavenging for food, which meant their parents were now raising another generation of equally lazy incompetents. And sometimes he didn’t even see any adults accompanying the children. Where they were, well, that wasn’t his concern. His duty was to keep the roads clear.
That General Thorne didn’t do something more drastic about the beggars perplexed Shin. Then again, most of those begging seemed to be women. Perhaps the men at the trash heaps became soldiers later on, so it was a feeding grounds of sorts for new enlistees.
In any case, patrolling was a waste of Shin’s talents, and he couldn’t wait for it to end. It’d be after the banquet, Shin was quite sure, when Thorne would march out of the fort with seven thousand of his strongest men. Seven thousand and one.
But leaving his post to join with the bulk of the army? That was the part he had yet to figure out, and Shin considered options as he paced along the edge of the forest. He could fake an injury to be in the surgery wing when the soldiers left, and have a better chance of slipping in with them. Perhaps he could stage a fall, something with vague aches and pains but with no visible damage.
Come to think of it, wasn’t it one year ago that he stood on top of a schoolhouse and—
“Young Pere!”
Shin stumbled in his pacing and slowed down when he heard the voice. He was at the fresh spring. The haunted Zenos spring.
He held his breath as he crept along, suddenly worried about unquiet spirits. Something had said his name, hadn’t it? Didn’t he—
“Young Pere!”
It was quiet, urgent, and definitely from the trees.
He froze in his tracks, swallowed hard, but saw no one.
A pinecone sailed dangerously close past his head.
“Show yourself!” Shin hissed to the forest, drawing his sword.
“Young Pere, come into the trees,” a low voice called to him.
The voice was familiar, but Shin couldn’t imagine complying. That was . . . that was ludicrous. Willingly going into the forest?
Another pinecone flew and hit him in the chest.
“Oh, Creet!” Shin swore as a memory from nearly a year ago hit him as well. A pinecone, hitting Uncle Shem in the chest as they hiked to the ancient site—
“Slagging Creet!
“Ah, Young Pere, not you too. Not you abusing the Creator’s name so casually,” the quiet voice came closer. From behind a thick shrub, the body emerged.
Shin dropped his sword in shock.
“Pick that up, Young Pere. We don’t drop rubbish in the forest. The way is clear now. No one will see you. Now take seven large steps into here behind the bush,” said the man dressed in green and brown mottled clothing.
Shin glanced around him, saw no one, and, without really wanting to, but used to obeying those in authority, he stumbled in a few steps.
“That’s it. Keep coming. You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here,” the man smiled as Shin reached the bush.
Shin was speechless.
“I’m concerned about your welfare. Little brother, we need to talk,” said Relf.
---
Thorne was alone in the command tower, struggling to adjust his dress uniform jacket, when his captain returned.
“Sir, I have two messages.”
“Yes?” Thorne said distractedly as he tried to fix his left sleeve. It was caught on his long-sleeved formal undershirt and wouldn’t slide down.
“May I, sir?” Lick didn’t wait for a response but pulled down the sleeve and straightened the cuff. “There. Most impressive.”
“Thank you, Lick,” General Thorne said through clenched teeth. “Usually Syl—I mean, Amory adjusts it but—”
“But nothing, sir,” the captain said quickly. “She’s one of my two messages. She’s ready and waiting to be presented at the outer room for the banquet. Apparently she’s a little excited, this being her first one and all.”
Thorne sighed. “She all ‘fropped’ up?”
The captain smiled slightly. “Yes, sir. She looks very appropriate to hang on your arm.”
“Second message?” he said, adjusting some of the shined-up medals on his dress uniform.
“I found the identity of the corporal she was speaking to.”
“Excellent. And? Is he one of your men from the land that doesn’t exist?” he scoffed with a cold smile.
The captain sighed in frustration. “Sir, I promise you—Salem exists!” he whispered earnestly. “And no,” he admitted. “No sign that he’s from there. But you may find this interesting—you already know him, in a way.”
Thorne looked up from his adjustments. “Who is he?”
“Sword Master Thorne Shin.”
Thorne’s eyebrows went up. “My mysterious numbers man? Creet! I missed meeting him again?”
Lick smiled briefly. “I’m not sure I understand why you didn’t demand an introduction on the hill.”
“I don’t need your smugness right now,” Thorne spat.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the captain stood taller as he sobered. “I didn’t realize I was being smug.”
The general squinted as he remembered. “He was tall . . . and dark, I think. His cap was pulled down so low I didn’t see his hair coloring. His eyes were dark, though. Briter was fairer, as I recall.” Thorne’s voice trailed off.
“Sir?” Lick said carefully. “The guests are waiting, and Miss Amory is—”
Thorne sighed impatiently as he reattached a large, glinting piece of medal on his chest. “Yes, yes, I know. Lick, understand this: there’s nothing wrong with letting one’s guests and lover wait a few minutes. It heightens the anticipation.”
“True, everyone is most eager for your appearance,” Lick nodded. “Everyone looks forward to your most excellent celebration. The soldiers enjoy the meal, the parade—”
Thorne nodded sharply to get him to be quiet, and briefly wondered if any other commander had been so plagued by such a transparent flatterer.
“It’s proving to be an excellent diversion to our efforts in the south,” Thorne acknowledged to his young battle advisor. “It’s just this blasted dress uniform! Waste of cloth,” Thorne grumbled, expertly buttoning the jacket with one hand. “Lick, I want you at the entrance tonight, watching the soldiers come in. Bring me any Shins who match the description. It’s high time I met this boy. Then after the dinner, keep an eye on her and whomever she talks to. She’s far too easy with everyone. She’s becoming an embarrassment.”
“Of course, sir. I agree. Whoever is fortunate enough to be by your side should understand the importance of that position.”
Thorne glanced at him. “As well as you do, Lick?”
Lick readjusted his stance. “Should I be allowed to ride next to you, sir, at the offensive, I guarantee you’d never be disappointed.”
Thorne gave him a weary smile as he walked over to his desk to retrieve the rest of his uniform.
“Sir?” Lick ventured, “You mentioned the other day you were working on a plan to discover the route to Salem?”
“I did,” Thorne said casually, picking up his sheath.
Lick shifted ever so slightly. “Might I be allowed to know it, sir? I may be able to help. I know a few things . . .”
Thorne hooked the buckle of his sheath on to a button to hold it in place, then pulled the other side of the belt around his body and buckled it expertly with his left hand.
“Lick, you asked me some moons ago why I keep on Kroop. I told you it was because he talks too much. Being around him for so many years has taught me that I should keep most things to myself.” He picked up his sword.
The captain took a nervous step back. “Sir, are you suggesting I’m not to be trusted?”
Thorne looked into his eyes with a piercing glare and firmed his grip on the hilt. “How much did Yordin trust you, my dear Captain?”
Lick squinted under the general’s scrutiny. “Enough to see his demise, sir.”
Thorne nodded once with a cold smile and slipped his sword into the sheath. “He was an old man. I still have many years ahead of me. I’m not ready to meet my demise yet.”
Lick’s eyebrows rose. “Sir, I am completely loyal to you! Why do you think I confided in you about Salem? You’re the only commander alive who knows about it, who has the potential to find and conquer it. I’d do nothing to betray you. All I’ve done is so that I can serve you.”
Thorne continued his smile, which grew stiffer every moment. “Very good. Sounds like you practiced that on Yordin, who likely didn’t put much credence in your claims about a secret society, so then you served him a death sentence.” Thorne stepped to the door and held it open for his flabbergasted captain. “I have many men completely loyal to me, Lick. Right now, you are by my side. But that can change, as you well know. I thank you for the help with my sleeve, and I understand dinner is waiting. After you, Captain.”
---
“Wha-what are you doing here?” Shin stammered at his oldest brother. “How did you get here? Why you?”
Relf smiled. “It’s great to see you too, little brother. I’m so relieved you’re still alive!” He tried to give Young Pere a hug, but Shin sidestepped it.
“What do you want from me?”
“So which question do you want me to answer first?” Relf said, his grin refusing to leave even though his brother scowled at him.
“All of them!” Shin demanded.
“Why me? Because I look the least like a Shin or a Briter or a Zenos. I’m as Trovato as anyone can be.” He ran a hand through his blond hair, purposely dirtied with charcoal to blend in with the shadows. “How did I get here? The same way you did. And no, I didn’t sneak down on my own. I’m here with a dozen men who are watching us right now, so don’t even consider exposing me. What do I want from you? I want you to listen. I’m here to tell you it’s time to come home.”
Shin took a hard step backward. “What? I am home!”
“This isn’t your home. This just happens to be where you live. You belong somewhere else. Deep down you know that. Young Pere, there isn’t much time left. Uncle Shem has foreseen great trials that are to come, and you need to come back with me now, tonight.”
Tonight?! But the offensive on Idumea—
Shin took another step away. “Zenos is a fool and an idiot. Everyone knows that! And you still listen to him? But of course—you’re family,” he sneered. “No wonder he chose you.”
Relf frowned. “What are you talking about? I was chosen because I volunteered, and because we suspected so much had changed about you that only someone who’s known you your whole life would recognize you. Honestly, Young Pere, you have changed. It was only in the past few days I realized the soldier who paces the forest’s edge alone is my brother. Young Pere, I’m worried about you. What happened to your ears? Your face is so clouded, your eyes look practically dead. We can help you—”
“I don’t need help! I don’t need any of you, especially Zenos!” Shin whispered fiercely. “Just leave me alone. I’m on the verge of doing something great, and now you’re here to ruin that? Zenos knows. Somehow he just knows. That’s all he’s ever wanted to do, mess up my life and ruin Thorne’s life!”
Relf grabbed his arm. “Young Pere, I don’t understand half of what you’re saying. Look, can you please tell me why you want to stay? Help me understand who you are now.”
Shin tensed under his brother’s touch. “No, you can’t understand. I don’t want you here, can’t you see that? I don’t want anything to do with any of you!” He wrenched his arm out of Relf’s grip.
“You can’t mean that, Young Pere. Mrs. Yordin said you intended to be gone for six moons, then return. Yes, she told us. Your time here is up. It’s been nine moons now. We thought maybe you got lost, or were hurt and couldn’t return. I’m your escort. Young Pere, don’t you ever wonder what’s happened at home? Don’t you want to know how your family is, how much they’ve missed you?”
“Why, because you think I miss them?” he gestured with the sword still in his hands. “I don’t! I’ve done quite well on my own here, and I don’t need anyone else.”
Relf shook his head, dismayed. “Young Pere, I really didn’t think that—”
“What, let me guess,” Shin glowered.
“You thought you’d show up, that I’d fall weeping into your arms grateful to see family, and hike back up the forest with you. Well that’s not what’s going to happen. I’m fine here. I’ve got plans!”
“No, you’re not all right,” Relf said, his eyebrows knitted. “I can see it in your face. I’ve never known you to be so . . . lifeless, Young Pere. There’s no spark in your eyes.”
“So you came all this way to criticize how I look?” Shin spat.
Relf groaned. “No, no, no, Young Pere. I came all this way because I miss you and love you. Everyone does. Mama cries every day, Papa stares out the window to the mountains, Muggah—”
Shin shut his eyes and held up his free hand. “Stop! I don’t need to hear it. I don’t want to hear it.”
“Why is that?” Relf squinted at him. “Ask yourself, why you don’t want to know. Don’t you want to hear about the new babies? The new romances?”
“No! Nothing! Just . . . leave.”
“Do you want to know what Guide Zenos saw?” Relf said hurriedly, as if time was running out. “Young Pere, the pox that struck Muggah and Uncle Deck years ago—it’s rising up again. Already in the place over the mountain we’ve seen a few cases. The doctors are fairly certain that the Shins and Zenoses are immune because Papa and Shem never fell ill the last time around, nor did any Trovatos. But we’re worried about the Briters, because—”
“I DON’T CARE ABOUT THAT PLACE!” It wasn’t a scream, but the whisper was so loud that Relf flinched.
“Please, Young Pere,” Relf implored. “There’s more coming, but we’re not sure what. Uncle Shem has been impressed that there will be some kind of disaster, and it’s going to change everything. A massive cloud, but we don’t know what it means. Time’s running out. Please come home with me!” He gripped Young Pere’s arm as if wanting to drag him away. “Don’t make me return to Mama empty-handed. This is your last chance. After this . . . Young Pere, please believe me. Everyone from Salem is getting out. The scouts, the suppliers, the midwives, the rectors—everyone. Have I ever lied to you? Have I ever deceived you?”
“It’s not you I don’t trust,” Shin said coldly. “It’s him. It’s Zenos. And you’re just stupid enough to follow him like an idiot lamb. I’m sorry for you, Relf. You should stay here with me instead.”
Relf scoffed in disbelief. “I’m not staying with you. I have no idea who you are anymore, Young Pere. I have a family who loves me and needs me, and I haven’t been blinded by the world.”
“I’m not blind—you are!” Shin shouted in a whisper.
Relf sighed as if in pain. “This is going nowhere,” he murmured. More distinctly he said, “Young Pere, when a man is as defensive as you are, it’s only because he’s trying to deny the truth. No matter how far down you bury it, it still has a way of coming back up, doesn’t it? There are a great many things wrong with your soul right now. I can see it in your eyes. You’re hiding nothing very well. But we can fix everything. Come home and talk to Papa. Let him guide you. You can ignore those problems as much as you want, but they will still keep coming back to haunt you. As frightened as those poor soldiers out there are of the forest, the state of your soul frightens you even more, doesn’t it?”
Shin gripped his sword hilt tighter.
Relf stepped closer. “I love you, Young Pere. That’s why I risked coming after you. This is our last night. I’ll wait here for you until midnight. Slip out after dark and no one will see you. If they do, we can take care of that. Please, Young Pere, think about it for the next few hours. Then come home with me tonight!”
Shin yanked his arm out of his brother’s grip, turned, and strode out of the forest.
“Young Pere!”
---
“So,” Amory batted her eyelashes, “how do I look?” She spun in place as General Thorne entered the anteroom off the main reception hall. Her body-hugging peach silk dress was so close to flesh colored it was almost as if she wore nothing at all. Her golden hair hung in tight ringlets all around her artfully painted face.
“It’s fine,” he said dismissively.
Amory stopped in mid-twirl. “‘It’s fine’? That’s all you can come up with? The seamstress was working on this for weeks! I think ‘stunning,’ or ‘breath-taking,’ or ‘fantastic’ are more fitting than even this gown.”
“Seems you already have all the descriptions in mind, so why do I need to bother repeating any of them? Are you ready?”
Amory’s bare shoulders wilted in disappointment. “Been ready for a while, actually. I could have been out there for the past half hour, getting to know the officers, meeting the other wives—”
“Don’t think too much of yourself, Amory,” Thorne said, as if already bored. “And there are no more ‘wives’—”
She stepped up quickly to him, gripped his jacket, and pulled him in to a passionate kiss. When she released him she said, “You’re right, Lemuel. Would a mere ‘wife’ do that to you? And more?”
A small smile surfaced on Thorne’s mouth. “Sometimes I wonder why I keep you around,” he glanced briefly at her very flat middle that promised no son anytime soon, “then you remind me.” But his face hardened as he pointed at her. “But you mind your place tonight! You speak only to whom you are introduced and only answer questions. Do not attempt to draw attention to yourself, and remember your position.”
“Which one?” she asked saucily.
“And none of THAT! No flirtation with anyone! Is that understood? Creet, woman, don’t you dare try to undermine my authority. You can be replaced, you know.”
Amory let go of his jacket. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’ll behave myself. I promise.”
“You better,” he snarled. Grabbing her arm, he twisted her roughly to the door and escorted her out to meet their two hundred assembled guests.
---
Captain Lick stood at the back doors of the Main Building watching the soldiers file in to pick up their meals from the banquet. General Thorne was seated with Miss Amory who was quiet and sullen for now, but the guests were already taking bets as to how long it’d be before the general’s latest conquered territory started making eyes for a new commander. Sergeant Major Hili had been coerced out of the command tower to come take a plate of food, which he ate politely and hastily, then slipped away because he despised anything formal.
But Major Kroop was unwittingly making a fool of himself by trying to hit on every woman in a gown he met, not realizing that each had been invited by another man for the evening. The officers simply sniggered at his pathetic efforts, and placed additional bets as to which woman he’d try to convince next to head to his room for a sample of mead from his private stash, and how quickly he’d move to the next glowering female.
While Thorne and his guests sat at the large table in the hall, the soldiers enjoyed their elaborate meal in the warm evening outdoors. Lick looked for two people: first, a tall, dark-haired young man with the label of Shin. So far no one matched the description. The other two Shins he saw that evening were twin brothers who were spindly, pasty little things that shrank when Lick’s eyes silently interrogated them. He gazed down the long line of soldiers waiting to take their brimming plates, his eyes pausing only at the ones who stood taller than General Thorne. He had a feeling Sword Master Thorne Shin was not going to be there. He’d be wise not to be.
When he reached the end of the lines, not having seen who he was looking for, Lick continued on out to the northeast entrance. He was sure he wasn’t going to see the second person he was looking for either, and that was also a good thing. He surveyed the tree line for any activity. Only faintly could he hear the deep belching sounds of a steaming cavern. Not another soul could be seen anywhere.
Lick looked toward the east and wondered briefly, but still saw nothing as the sun began to lower.
He was likely on his way out and north.
Chapter 32--“You’re bringing back hope.”