Soldier at the Door (Forest at the Edge)

by Mercer, Trish

  A most ridiculous, incredible, and brave plan.

  And the timing was absolutely perfect.

  “We have to find the truth ourselves!”

  Jaytsy blinked again and shrugged. “So I hide Peto’s pancakes. If he finds them he eats them?”

  ---

  All day long Mahrree felt like a rebellious child sneaking out of school, but she tried to convince herself there was nothing wrong with what she was going to do. Yes, her plan was daring and risky, but it was also completely legal and didn’t break any rules of the Army, the citizenry, or the village.

  So why was her stomach in constant knots, and why did she keep feeling the need to relieve herself in the washing room every fifteen minutes?

  At midday meal she boldly walked up to the fort, her children in the wagon that she pulled, merely to see what was going on. She stopped about a hundred and fifty paces away from the tree line and gazed at the action across the barren strip of land. Extra soldiers patrolled along the forest’s edge, but the movement back and forth from the fort to the trees wasn’t frantic. While there wasn’t a direct threat, something unusual was happening, that was for sure.

  She heard a familiar voice. “Mrs. Shin!”

  “Zadda!” Jaytsy called back, and Peto began to squirm in his seat to get out.

  Staff Sergeant Gizzada always meant that two little children would be given sweets from a hidden pocket in his uniform. If they noticed the lint stuck to the morsels, they didn’t care.

  Sergeant Gizzada started patting himself down as he approached Mahrree. Every disappointing pocket in his blue uniform etched a deeper line of apology in the large man’s face. He pulled out bits of papers, a long knife, lengths of string, and finally eyed an unusual bulge in his jacket pocket that he didn’t retrieve because he couldn’t immediately identify it. Worried, he bit his lip.

  “I’m so sorry, Small Ones. I wasn’t expecting to see you today, so I’m not prepared. Actually, I’ve been on since late last night.” He looked at Mahrree remorsefully.

  “It’s all right, Gizzada.” Mahrree smiled, but her children hooting at the staff sergeant told them it wasn’t acceptable to be without treats for them. “I didn’t bring them up to steal your sweets again. Or your afternoon snacks.”

  Gizzada bravely fished out the bulge from his jacket—a shriveled piece of aged jerky—and wrinkled his nose at it.

  “A bit tough for the Small Ones,” he said, trying to bend it. “Barker would appreciate it, though. Where is he?”

  Mahrree rolled her eyes. “Probably visiting another small dog to once again further his parentage. Ever since he discovered how to climb over the fence, we can’t contain him.”

  Gizzada smiled. “He followed me to the markets a couple of weeks ago. I think I made him a permanent friend by giving him a sweet roll. Sorry about that.”

  “Next time, let him follow you to the fort and keep him here!” She looked up towards the forest. “I was just wondering what’s going on up here,” she said, trying to keep a careful balance between sounding casual, and not sounding as if she were trying to sound casual. “Perrin left without his breakfast.”

  Gizzada shook his head sadly. “That is a tragedy,” he said in all seriousness. “I’ll see to it that sandwiches are brought up to him.”

  Mahrree squinted at the trees. “Exactly where is he, Gizzada?”

  “Not in the trees, Mrs. Shin,” he promised. “Look down towards the west and you’ll see him on the brown mare. Already tired out the bay gelding. Been riding up and down all morning.”

  “Why?” Mahrree asked, hoping she sounded relaxed enough that he would tell her.

  “Not sure, ma’am.” He shrugged and patted himself down again when he saw the pouty faces of Jaytsy and Peto looking up at him, still hopeful. “Just a great deal of movement deep into the trees. Not wolves, not bears, just . . . odd. We can’t even see up to it, but we’re hearing lots of crashing about.”

  “Maybe some lost livestock?” Mahrree suggested.

  Gizzada shook his head. “We thought that at first, too, since the cattle fence isn’t completed yet. But cattle, pigs, sheep, or goats would all be crying and calling. We don’t hear anything like that.”

  “So,” Mahrree said as nonchalantly as possible. “Guarders then?” She watched the large staff sergeant from the corner of her eye as she pretended to observe the forest.

  Any sign . . . any sign at all . . .

  He shrugged helplessly. “But Mrs. Shin,” he lowered his voice and looked around to see no one near, “it’s driving your husband nearly to distraction. He’s just staring into the forest, longingly, as if he sees a . . .” he searched for an appropriate comparison, “a luscious, giant pie just out of reach, and he’s a starving man on his last legs. And the pie is bursting with berries, still steaming from the oven, juices dribbling down the crust—”

  Even Mahrree found herself so distracted from her questioning that she began licking her lips. If only Gizzada were a few years older, she thought to herself, as she had dozens of times, or Mother were a few years younger, they could be very happy together.

  “—and he can’t reach it. It taunts him, beckons him, he smells it, hears it—”

  Mahrree stopped licking her lips and wondered exactly how one hears a pie. But by the faraway look in Gizzada’s mournful black eyes, it was obvious all kinds of foods spoke to him.

  “Staff Sergeant?”

  “And he’s forbidden to touch it,” Gizzada’s arm began to rise, his chubby brown hand making a grasping motion. “He can do nothing but dream and long for it, his heart ready to break—”

  “Gizzada, have you had midday meal yet?”

  “No.” He sighed sadly, the longing in his eyes intensifying to true anguish. Mahrree was sure she heard his great belly rumble.

  She put a comforting hand on his arm. “As the wife of your major, I have special privileges, or so I claim. And, as the woman with the ear of your commander, I order you to the mess hall to make my husband two sandwiches, and take along three for yourself.”

  Gizzada’s mouth turned into the heartfelt smile of a man who had just been rescued from an execution squad.

  “Truly, Mrs. Shin, you are an incredible woman,” he said with great feeling. “Major Shin is lucky to have found such a thoughtful, deep, and compassionate woman as you.”

  Mahrree suppressed her laugh, and it showed up instead as a sweet smile on her face. “Thank you, Gizzada. And thank you in advance for taking care of my husband.”

  He looked down at the children who gave him one last try with their lambs’ eyes. “Next time, Small Ones, I promise I’ll have extra treats, all right?”

  He patted their heads gently, tipped his cap at Mahrree, and took off in a lumbering jog back to the fort.

  Mahrree sighed and looked again towards the forest to distantly see Perrin kick his heels into his mount and head off again towards the east, yelling something. It wasn’t his panicked yell, Mahrree noticed. Only his, I’m-getting-very-frustrated-with-the-situation yell, which meant there wasn’t anything dangerous, just maddening.

  Truly a massive pie just out of his reach.

  “We need to get some berries,” Mahrree decided.

  “Fodder?” Peto asked, pointing at the fort.

  “I’m sorry, sweety. Your father is busy right now. See over there? The horsey? That’s Father. He’s not too happy right now. Let’s make him a pie for later to cheer him up. On to the market.”

  ---

  It was past dinner time and Perrin still hadn’t returned, nor had Shem been by with a message. That was all right.

  In fact, it was better this way.

  Mahrree rubbed her hands nervously as she stared at the lovely blackberry pie with two small slices and one large slice already cut out and eaten for dessert.

  “Fodder!” Peto sang to the back door, as if his voice would bring Perrin.

  “I’m sorry, Peto,” Mahrree said as she picked him up. She pointed out
the thick glassed window towards the back fence. “No Fodder, I mean, Father tonight. He has to work until late.”

  Peto sighed sadly and wriggled to be put back down. “No Fodder,” he moped as he toddled back to the eating room.

  “That means something is still going on,” Mahrree said to herself, wringing her hands. As much as she wanted something to keep going on, a small cowardly part of her didn’t. She had made a deal with herself that morning, and hoped against herself all day. But now as it grew to be evening, she realized she was going to have to—

  No, she was grasping the opportunity to go through with it. She desperately wanted to, but strangely, she almost as urgently hoped someone or something would stop her.

  The evening dragged on at a curiously fast rate as Mahrree bathed her children, dressed them for bed, and told them stories until they dozed off.

  Each hour she watched to see if Perrin came home, and each hour that passed upped her heart rate. She was going to have to do it. She had to know, and she’d forever be ashamed of herself if she let this chance pass. There were more secrets in the world than just that of the thirty-three servants held by the Queruls.

  The biggest secrets were held only a couple miles from her house, and those secrets dragged away her husband, threatened her in-laws, and . . . well, she was just tired of it all. Tired of secrets, of unknown variables like her favorite soldier, tired of surprises in the night—it was enough.

  There was only one more way her intentions could have been thwarted, but two hours after sundown, the last part of her plan came to the door.

  “Mrs. Shin!” Sareen giggled. “I can’t tell you how excited I am to tend your children! I realize Corporal Zenos usually watches them—”

  “He won’t be by tonight, Sareen,” Mahrree warned her and put a bracing hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  Sareen’s glow dimmed a bit. “That’s all right. Of course that’s why you asked me to come. But you can tell him that you trusted me!”

  Mahrree didn’t feel like dousing her passionate fire just then. “I will, Sareen. Should be rather easy tonight. They’re already asleep, so feel free to relax and take a nap on the sofa until I come home from my mother’s.”

  “Oh, I won’t sleep on the job, Mrs. Shin! I’ll stay up for as long as it takes—”

  “You know,” Mahrree said with a small smile, “Corporal Zenos naps on our sofa quite frequently. He says that end is the most comfortable for his head. And that over there is his favorite pillow.”

  Sareen flushed red. “Oh, oh!” she eyed the pillow as if it was Shem himself, beckoning her to sit on his lap. “Maybe I will take a little nap, if you’re out too late, that is.”

  “I really don’t know how long I’ll be gone,” Mahrree said. “So make yourself comfortable, and later you can give me a report on how comfortable it was, and I’ll be sure to tell Shem.”

  In a small way she felt guilty for feeding Sareen’s desperate hope, but she really didn’t want her knowing how late Mahrree might be coming home. Sareen fairly danced over to the sofa, picked up the pillow and gave it such a thorough fluffing Mahrree was surprised it didn’t burst open at the top forcing out all the goose down feathers in a white snowstorm.

  “This is a wonderful pillow!” Sareen giggled as she sniffed it.

  Mahrree looked away, unable to watch anymore. She took her cloak from off the hook by the front door and put it on. “Well, Sareen . . . Sareen?”

  Her face was buried in the pillow, and Mahrree thought she may have heard a kissing noise come from it. Sareen’s head popped up, flushed with embarrassment.

  “I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone,”—and Mahrree worried briefly about in what condition the pillow would be when she came back home, “—so keep the doors locked, and if you hear something at the back door, it’s likely Barker.”

  “He’s not here?” Sareen appreciated the smelly beast even less than Mahrree.

  “Yes, his daytime wanderings have turned into nighttime ones as well.”

  “Well, with all the female dogs in the neighborhood,” Sareen giggled.

  Mahrree groaned. “Most of the neighbors don’t mind his presence. They seem to think his size means he’s actually a guard dog. But that litter of puppies down the road?” She shuddered, and so did Sareen. “Tragic.”

  “Maybe as they get bigger they won’t look so much like drowned rabbits,” she offered in a giggle.

  “I hope so. We promised to help find homes for half of them. Anyway, just leave Barker outside. He won’t mind. And don’t open the doors, whatever you do. If it’s me or Major Shin, you’ll know us by our secret knock.”

  Sareen nodded soberly. “And if the major returns before you, I’ll tell him that your mother is ill.”

  “Yes, please do,” Mahrree smiled. Her lie would be better coming from Sareen anyway. “Feel free to read anything in the study, and Sareen, thank you again.”

  She hugged the pillow close to her chest. “No, thank you!”

  ---

  If she were a more honest woman, she would be feeling more guilty about telling Sareen a lie so that she could find out the truth.

  “Yes, Perrin—I know,” Mahrree muttered in resigned annoyance as she walked as quietly as possible down the darkened road. “Sometimes lies are necessary.”

  She glanced up at the tower as she passed it, purposely waving to the guards so that they knew she was a villager and not something worse. She couldn’t tell if they noticed her, but the towers remained dark and bannerless. Even with the activity in the forest, no warning banners had gone up anywhere in the village. Only those with farms adjoining the barren strip of land left before the forest knew anything was happening, and even then it looked more like a full exercise rather than a possible threat.

  Mahrree headed east, away from the body of the soldiers that were in the west. Should anyone see her she could say that she was on her way to her mother’s, but she had put up her hood hoping no one would recognize her.

  The roads were quiet, as they usually were for this time of night. She didn’t feel her stomach knot until she had passed the turn off for going to her mother’s. Now she really did feel like a teenager skipping out on school, sure that at any moment she was about to get caught. But she wasn’t doing anything wrong, not breaking any rules, and she was even doing Sareen a favor, who was undoubtedly hugging Shem’s pillow with a passion no one should be around to witness. Everything was just fine.

  So why did she feel so dreadful?

  “I need to stop the secrets and find out the truth,” she whispered to herself. “Just to know that at least I tried! I’m the brave wife of the major, after all.”

  She cut between two houses without fences and headed north towards the darkness. Passing the last road on the rings that surrounded Edge, she made her way across a farm and slipped between the still-standing dried corn stalks. The cold wind coming down from the mountains rustled the crinkly leaves, making a surprisingly loud and disquieting noise. She picked up her pace to get through the corn field as quickly as possible. Seeing the end of the row, she ran to reach it, stopping only once she was several paces beyond the stalks. Then she paused and oriented herself.

  She was gripped with a sudden panic that nearly dropped her to her knees. To her left, further to the west than she anticipated, was the fort, brightly lit with torches to illuminate the activity. And directly in front of her, across the canal, was the forest. She took several deep breaths, creating little clouds in front of her, and calmed her pounding heart.

  Still doing nothing wrong, she reminded herself. Still legal. Still safe. She took a few steps back to conceal herself in the rows of corn stalks and watched the perimeter of the forest.

  The soldiers rode so silently she was impressed, but of course, they’d been trained to do that. Even the horses’ bridles and saddles were muffled with bits of rabbit fur so as to not rattle or jingle. The soldiers rode in twos, threes, fours, and occasionally as a lone soldier alon
g the border.

  She hadn’t anticipated seeing so many—the patrols seemed to be tripled, probably because of the action in the forest—and she hadn’t considered how to avoid them. She watched for a moment to see a pattern before remembering that Perrin purposely devised irregular distances and times for their movement.

  “Very clever, Major Shin,” she whispered. “Not only can Guarders not get in, villagers can’t get near. I’m just going to have to chance it,” she decided, looking up at the sky that was cloudy. “Rather dark tonight—”

  She groaned as the clouds quickly passed, revealing two half moons and more than adequate light.

  “Thanks,” she muttered. “Thanks a lot. Now if a soldier sees me, he might recognize me and not believe I was a relative from Scrub who got lost trying to find her aunt’s house again.”

  But she also knew if she just stood there, she’d likely wet her drawers like Jaytsy did when she was nervous. Mahrree exhaled and started walking directly towards the canal.

  Act like you belong there, she thought to herself, and they might believe you do. Behave as if you’re trying to get away with something, everyone will suspect you.

  She glanced up and down the canal looking for one of the many footbridges that led across it. She found one further to the east and started for it, keeping her hood well over her head. Only once she dared to look up for any nearing soldiers. She saw one that rode past her a few dozen paces away, but his eyes were solely focused on the forest, not the fields behind him.

  Mahrree smiled confidently, stepped quietly across the footbridge even though she could’ve walked through the canal since it was dry this time of year, and took one last look at the patrols. She had a clear shot for perhaps ten seconds . . .

  “Do it!” she told herself, and took off in a dead run across the barren field. The trees loomed larger as she neared them until suddenly she was at the very edge. She took one last look either way, then . . .

  . . . stepped in.

  “I’m in the forest,” she panted and slumped down to the ground.