Soldier at the Door (Forest at the Edge)

by Mercer, Trish

  People were drawn to him, as she and Perrin had been. And now that he was “one of their own,” Edgers each wanted a few minutes with the corporal. He grinned enormously at each new friend, his sky blue eyes shining happily to receive so much consolation, and the villagers were thrilled to pour it on him. He was almost more charismatic than Perrin, Mahrree thought. While Perrin was a bit threatening, Shem was so utterly approachable. Oddly, she was struck momentarily with an amusing idea—Shem on the “throne” with Perrin as his guard dog.

  But soon Mahrree noticed that women—of a wide variety of ages—were also lined up to speak with Shem, and their eyes were taking in his build. For the first time she realized that his body shape was rather similar to Perrin’s. Same full round shoulders and arms—also glistening, for the benefit of the women who couldn’t get a clear view of Perrin—broad chest, and defined stomach muscles. Perhaps they were alike because Perrin put his soldiers through his training regimen.

  Yet, Mahrree considered, no soldiers were quite as massive as Perrin or Shem. Karna was certainly a bundle of muscle, she noted as the captain worked his way through the crowd to them, but not nearly as bulky.

  Karna asked loudly if anyone in the crowd had seen the expression on Major Shin’s face when he first learned about the pink banner.

  A man standing nearby raised his hand, then with great drama acted out Perrin’s look of shock and fury, followed by a slap to his forehead.

  The crowd—several hundred—exploded in laughter, and even Perrin had to join in.

  Mahrree grinned, then noticed something more. Shem and Perrin even laughed alike. It was hard to pick out their voices in the mass, but their faces contorted in the same ways, and they moved at the same rhythm.

  Perhaps it was because they were becoming friends, Mahrree decided. She’d seen that before—close friends mirroring each other’s laugh.

  But maybe, maybe it was because they shared a common ancestor, one who passed down his massive frame and deep belly laugh that sounded like cheerful bells clanging.

  If only Shem had black hair and eyes like Perrin, instead of light brown hair like hers and those sparkling blue eyes, she would’ve been bold enough to declare they must have been distantly related.

  Mahrree bit her lip in dreadful anticipation as she saw Sareen weave her way through to Shem. The poor girl had been trying so hard to get him to notice her, but he didn’t. He didn’t seem to notice anyone but the Shin family.

  Shem was drying himself off with the dingy rag Karna had left as Sareen reached him. He glanced at her, then looked at Perrin with what seemed like pleading in his eyes.

  Perrin grinned, took one of the thick red cloths from off his chair, and tossed it to his subordinate.

  Shem’s expression told him that wasn’t exactly what he was hoping for, although Mahrree wasn’t sure what he wanted.

  Sareen, beaming and bouncing, with her tunic still embarrassingly low, kneeled in front of Shem in obeisance.

  Mahrree rolled her eyes. The girl was hopeless.

  Shem made quite a business of rubbing his short hair with the red cloth, as if not realizing Sareen was there. Perrin’s loud throat clearing finally made him stop. He set the wide cloth around his shoulders, and Mahrree wondered if he intentionally tried to cover parts of his muscular anatomy to dissuade the eyes of his admirers, some of whom regarded him with less-than-pure appreciation.

  Then he had no choice but to look down at Sareen.

  Mahrree considered the angle, and winced in empathy for Shem. Sareen had made sure she planted herself right where she could make the most of her exposed—

  “Oh honestly, Sareen!” Mahrree murmured in exasperation. “Where’s your cloak?”

  Despite the chill in the air, Sareen seemed determined to show Shem exactly what she had to offer. Not surprisingly, several soldiers had converged around Shem to share in the view.

  “Oh Sareen, this is just becoming sad,” Mahrree muttered, wishing someone would point out to the girl—maybe Sareen’s mother, who didn’t seem to be around—that her displaying behavior was most inappropriate. Mahrree was about to march over there herself when . . .

  Shem was remarkable, Mahrree realized. While he appeared so young, he possessed a maturity and strength far beyond his age. His gaze had never wavered from Sareen’s face, Mahrree noted, even though only inches below it was a sight to make any infant thirsty and any man forget how to blink. It seemed, from Mahrree’s angle, that he wasn’t even looking at her eyes, but likely her forehead. And while Sareen displayed nearly all her full and heaving wares before him, he wasn’t shopping.

  Instead he was suddenly taken with a fit of coughing that sounded to Mahrree a bit contrived, but most convenient. He even fell off his little chair as he doubled over to control his convulsing.

  A moment later someone rushed a flask of water to him, which he readily accepted.

  Another moment later the coughing fit ceased, Shem stood up, and immediately began a conversation with his rescuer, Mrs. Reed, who had also brought him a box of her cookies.

  Sareen, forgotten and still kneeling in front of the wobbly chair, grumpily stood up and stormed away.

  Two dozen soldiers followed closely after her. They were shopping, and were not interested in her forehead.

  “Well done, Shem Zenos,” Mahrree smiled in approval.

  To her surprise, Shem looked deliberately in her direction, as if he heard her. But she knew the distance was too great. He nodded once at her before beginning a conversation with another older, safer villager.

  Sareen, now with her own little audience, spoke loudly about something silly, Mahrree was sure, likely hoping Shem would notice and become jealous. For the moment, Sareen was happy for the attention that, someday, she’d realize she didn’t really want.

  Mahrree understood Sareen, she hated to admit to herself. She’d come to a difficult realization some time ago: if there had never been a Perrin Shin, and had the age gap been a bit smaller, she too would have hoped for the attention of Shem Zenos. Maybe it was his presence, and his sweetness, and his boyish handsomeness, and his impressive build—

  But for Mahrree, there was a Perrin Shin, and he’d absolutely spoiled her for any other man, thank the Creator. While she saw the appeal of Shem—gentle and even adorable—she found more alluring the raw power of Perrin, the massive guard dog. She realized that occasionally she may find other men attractive, but she’d always remember that her own husband was far superior.

  Mahrree chuckled softly as that husband teasingly commanded Corporal Zenos to sit back down. His head was now higher than Perrin’s, and that wasn’t appropriate, he announced loudly.

  Shem crouched obligingly, to the laughter of the villagers, but Perrin shook his head slowly, pointed to the little chair, then raised a menacing eyebrow.

  More laughter.

  Shem slunk dejectedly to the demeaning seat, sat down with a loud sigh of resignation, and blinked sadly at the cluster of little boys—Poe Hili among them—that now stood in front of him as his new adoring fan club.

  The crowd cheered loudly, and Perrin threw another red cloth at Shem, covering his head completely.

  Mahrree laughed out loud, caught her husband’s eye, and winked.

  He winked back and raised his eyebrows briefly in suggestion. He had an idea for an argument that night.

  She shook her head and chuckled.

  Oh, those women might ogle him with eyes too full of their own desire—and it was a good thing he hadn’t run in only his shorts, Mahrree decided, because seeing his calves and thighs would have sent some of those women into such fits of swooning that their husbands would have had no choice but to preserve their honor by challenging the major, which would have sent him into fits of laughter—but that afternoon Major Perrin Shin would be going home with her.

  And tonight, she’d help him undress, probably help him bathe, get that magnificent man into bed . . . and then listen to him whimper and complain about his aching
muscles all night long.

  Chapter 19 ~ “A little over-excited about towers and flags, are we?”

  “Lieutenant!” Corporal Zenos said, grinning widely. He sat down across the table from Walickiah, grimacing in pain, just as the lieutenant was finishing his dinner in the mess hall. “I didn’t get to thank you yet for your assistance today, nor apologize about jabbing you in the ribs.”

  Walickiah leaned back and analyzed the corporal. His forwardness and friendliness were, again, not what he was expecting.

  “Not a problem,” he answered casually. “I understand the race was very close.”

  “Oh, it was,” Zenos nodded. “I’ve never run so hard in my life. Right now I’m feeling every muscle, and each is complaining loudly!” He chuckled pitifully. “Fortunately Shin scheduled me to have the next few days off so I can recover. I should’ve won that race, Walickiah. A few things slowed me down, though. The first was an unexpected kiss at the village green.”

  Walickiah smiled half way. “Heard about that. I understand a few soldiers offered to take your place when the rest of your disappointed admirers didn’t get their opportunities with you.”

  Zenos smiled. “The second,” he said, focusing on a mug in front of him and turning it slowly, “was an unexpected man in the forest.” His voice was barely audible above the dull roar of the soldiers around them talking and eating. “I had to tag a tree on the edge of it, and there he was. You know what that man said to me, Lieutenant?” Zenos looked up into Walickiah’s eyes with a piercing glare.

  Walickiah swallowed. “No one else mentioned seeing someone in the forest, Corporal.”

  Zenos nodded slowly. “No one else noticed. Too caught up in the race, I suppose. But that man seemed to be expecting you.”

  Walickiah’s eyes grew large. “This is not the place to speak,” he hissed.

  Zenos looked around at the noisy mess hall and gave Walickiah an easy smile. “No one can hear anything,” he said quietly. “I’ve tested it many times. But I agree. I have a better place for us to speak.”

  He stood up abruptly and walked out of the mess hall.

  Walickiah followed him a moment later. He stepped into the hallway and saw Zenos walking stiffly out of the main reception room and towards the darkening compound. Walickiah maintained his gait several paces behind Zenos as the corporal headed out the quiet and darkening northeast gates.

  The lieutenant glanced around before following. No one paid him any attention.

  Outside the gates Zenos didn’t slow down but continued to head for the forest. Walickiah trotted to catch up to him.

  “Zenos,” he whispered loudly, “where are you going?”

  “Where no one else goes,” he said as Walickiah caught up to him.

  “Because if you saw a Guarder, you should’ve reported it immediately. It didn’t matter if it was a race, the safety of the village is more important—”

  Zenos stopped and spun to face the lieutenant. “No one can hear us. You can drop the act. I know who you are and why you’re here. Now follow me. I know you’re not afraid to.” Zenos took off again in a march, as quickly as his exhausted body would let him, to the fresh spring at the edge of the forest.

  Walickiah glanced around again, saw no patrols nearby, and caught up to Zenos who headed straight into the trees. The lieutenant followed him into the forest without breaking his stride.

  “Look, Corporal, I’ve been hoping for an opportunity to speak with you. I’ve been assigned to help you with—”

  Something clamped onto the lower half of his face. He couldn’t even yank at it, because his arms were pulled roughly behind him, and a thick rope tied his wrists firmly together. The enormous dark brown hand holding his face suddenly let go, only to shove a piece of cloth into his mouth, then secure it with another rope around his head. It wasn’t even possible to kick, because something was wrapping tightly around his lower legs.

  Zenos stood calmly at the edge of the spring watching as six large men in green and brown mottled clothing rendered Lieutenant Walickiah, in a matter of seconds, immobile and silent.

  The corporal nodded once at the lieutenant who lay on the ground stunned, but growing furious.

  “Sorry about this. Really not in my nature. But then again, that’s what I told the last man sent to interfere. Shin’s mine, and I don’t need any assistance. You’re resigning your commission as of tonight.

  “You really are very sloppy,” he said, taking a step closer. “There was no man at the edge of the forest. That you fell for that so easily demonstrates you’re not ready for this assignment. Tell me honestly, has Shin seen your handwriting?”

  Walickiah stared at him for a few moments until what the corporal was saying made sense in his mind. Finally he shook his head.

  “Any messages sent to him? Anything in your permanent file?”

  Again Walickiah shook his head, now baffled. He was resigning?! There had been another man? And who were these men?!

  “But they’ll have a signature on file,” Zenos said, pulling a piece of parchment out of his jacket pocket. He unfolded it to show to Walickiah. “And your signature looks like this?”

  Walickiah’s eyes bulged.

  Zenos nodded in satisfaction. “So obviously I forged it well enough. So sorry to hear you’ve decided the army just isn’t for you,” he said, reading Lieutenant Walickiah’s resignation. “All that training and education, wasted. Oh well.” He folded it again and slipped it back into his pocket. “That’s all right, sir. I’m sure your new life will be far more interesting than you could’ve imagined. I’ll make sure your things are sent to you.” Zenos nodded to the six brawny men standing around their captive.

  Without a word they effortlessly hoisted the squirming Walickiah and hustled him deeper into the forest.

  Zenos kneeled down by the spring—forgetting for the moment that his muscles weren’t going to be happy about that—and groaned as he scooped up a drink of water in his hands. “Best water in the world,” he said to no one in particular. “At least, in this world.”

  With a pained grunt he stood up and walked out of the forest.

  ---

  Barker lifted his head as he heard the quiet footsteps in the back alley. This late at night he knew what it was. He eagerly hauled himself up and lumbered to the back fence where a piece of bacon was waiting for him.

  “Well done, well done,” the man in the black jacket said, scratching the giant dog around the ears as he gulped down the bacon. “Up, up, up.”

  ---

  Mrs. Yung opened the back door hesitantly. In the middle of the night, one is never quite sure what to expect, even when one is married to the rector. Not everyone knocking at the door is wanting only advice.

  She sighed loudly. “Thank the Creator you’re back!” and she grabbed Dormin’s arm to pull him into the dark house. “We expected you back two days ago. I was ready to make my way down to find you myself!”

  Dormin hugged her in the dark kitchen. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you, but it took longer to find him than I thought it would.”

  “But you found him again? Remarkable, Dormin! Truly.”

  “No progress with him though, as you might imagine,” Dormin muttered. “But I did say good-bye.”

  “Oh, I hope you did so carefully,” Mrs. Yung fretted. “We don’t encourage that, you know. People start asking questions—”

  “He wasn’t interested in questions, Mrs. Yung. Instead, he was more worried about giving himself away. He’s up to something, and I need to find someone to tell. I was hoping the rector—”

  The door to the gathering room opened, and the shadow that came in was the size of Rector Yung.

  “Dormin! My prayers are answered!”

  “Rector Yung,” Dormin paused to accept his embrace, “I think I’ve discovered a problem, but I don’t know who to tell.”

  The door opened again, and Dormin held his breath as two more dark shadows, much larger than the small rector, ca
me into the small kitchen.

  “You tell us, Dormin, son of King Oren,” one of them said.

  Dormin didn’t dare exhale until Mrs. Yung patted his back. “It’s all right, Dormin. We’ve been expecting them. You can trust them.”

  “Try us right now, Dormin,” said the other large man. “What’s your news?”

  “It’s . . . it’s my brother,” he stammered. “He’s a guard—a lieutenant—in Chairman Mal’s mansion, but I don’t think he’ll be staying there.”

  In the dark Dormin could barely make out the two men looking at each other. “Where do you think he’s going?” one asked.

  “He has his heart set on taking back our mansion. The High General’s mansion,” he whispered.

  The men seemed to nod to each other. “What name is he using?”

  “Lieutenant Heth. I’m afraid I don’t have anything else to give you.”

  “It’s enough, Dormin,” said the other man. “We have our own connections. We’ll be watching for Lieutenant Heth. And now, it’s time to go.”

  Dormin swallowed hard. “Tonight?!”

  “It must be tonight,” Mrs. Yung said gently, squeezing his arm. “It’s not just about us, you know. There are others with more pressing needs.”

  Dormin sighed. “Of course. I’m ready to leave Winds. And everything else.”

  ---

  Two men sat in the dark office of an unlit building.

  “‘I’m the Unk, good to meet you’? That’s not in the codes!” Mal said, perplexed.

  Brisack shrugged half-heartedly. “No, it’s not. Then again, they were in public.”

  Mal shook his head. “Doesn’t matter! There’s nothing revealing about the response, ‘I think we might have met before.’ He didn’t even give a proper response considering he was addressing an officer!”

  “Lieutenant Walickiah assumed the response was intended to reveal who he is and the nature of his work there,” Brisack explained flatly.